NationStates Jolt Archive

~ I miss the United States. I remember when you could drive from state to state … before the Atlantic Republic seceded from the Union and when the U.S. was whole …

But America no longer exists: the influenza epidemic, the lawlessness spawned by the Prohibition, and, of course, the Crash eroded the core of the Union. So now, she’s split into regional nation-states, and the militias and militaries that formed to defend each nation haven’t stopped fighting each other since. As they isolate themselves from their neighbors by demolishing roads, railways, and bridges the airplane and the zeppelin have replaced the car and the train as the only reliable way to move passengers and cargo from one nation to another.

As the nations make war in the air, so too have air militias and air pirates taken to the skies to seek (and steal) their fortunes. There is no federal law anymore; Whoever can protect themselves wins. We’re slipping deeper and deeper into chaos and anarchy, and I couldn’t be happier.

Ever since my little stint with the Nueve Italia City Air Militia, I’ve been hailed as a hero by my countrymen and a menace by my enemies. Still, some people, like Mr. James Deverosa, the owner of the biggest banking firm in the whole damn Republic, have their wealth and comfort without any of the effort, and I don’t. I make my living by flying circles around enemy militias and sky pirates every day to make sure I live as well as him, and with all the luxuries that go with it to boot. And I don’t regret my lifestyle one bit.

This is the world now: this is what America’s fate has been resigned to. The skies turn crimson with each day’s passing as the entire world becomes even more like Darwin’s theory, but as long as I’m still alive, I’ve got no worries: Just give me my plane and that wild blue yonder …

“ Ciro!”

The call startled the mercenary from his nap, causing him to nearly fall backwards from the chair. The small hangar he was in was atop a rather large skyscraper, and sitting on the edge had caused him a touch of vertigo when his eyes finally took in the city streets far below. Collapsing back into his seat and standing quickly to get away from the building’s guard rail, Ciro Aerinaio, the Atlantic Republic’s single most popular (and skilled) Ace allowed his head to sweep back and forth over the roof to spy who had wanted him. When he saw the person walking up, his grin could not have been more apparent.

“ Ambra? Ambra Faccina, is that really you?”

The dark-haired beauty, once she strode into the sunlight, stopped and gave the pilot a curt nod. Obviously, she was above taking another step further, so Ciro dashed towards her instead. It was a cool morning, even colder for the fact that the winds were strong on top of the edifice, and the knee-length, red dress that Ambra was wearing was whipping about, and yet she gave not the slightest hint of a chill.

“ Well, Ciro …”

Ciro didn’t know what to expect: with Ambra, you could never really tell. She was like a fox: one minute, cute and cuddly, the next she was striking at your Achilles’ Heel, leaving you for the vultures. The pilot braced himself for the worst, knowing full well that he had not seen his childhood friend ever since the End of the Union.

“ How have you been? A famous pilot now, I hear?”

The pleasantry was not what Ciro Aerinaio thought he would hear, but nevertheless it helped to settle his mind and lessen the tension he felt gripping him. Ambra smiled brightly, her teeth as gleaming as snow reflected by the sunrise, and the pilot answered in kind,

“ ‘Famous pilot’? I knew some people had heard of me …”

Playing up his reputation as any debonair man would, he and Ambra laughed together, and it seemed like the worries of a dying America were behind them. Suddenly, however, encompassed a very business-like manner, fixed her dress (which Ciro thought was useless with the wind …), and let her blue eyes bore into Ciro’s.

“ Ciro, I need a favor.”

“ Anything for you Ambra, you know you can always ask of me for whatever you need.”

She smiled slightly, knowing that her faith in Ciro was well placed, and then continued on,

“ I need an escort. I’m leaving on a personal airship for Albany in an hour, and I just want a little extra protection. I heard sky pirates seized another personal Air Yacht only two days ago …”

Knowing full well that air travel up the Hudson river was certainly something to dread nowadays, the pilot held up his hand and gave it a slight shake.

“ Say no more. Ambra, I’d be more than happy to escort your airship.”

The woman’s smile grew wider, and for a second it seemed that she was about to throw her arms around Ciro. In truth, Ciro wanted that moment, but it never came. Instead, a plain white envelope was placed into the hand he had held out.

“ This is two hundred dollars: it’s the first part of your pay. You’ll get another four hundred when we get to Albany, alright?”

Unable to voice any kind of objection, all Ciro mustered was, “ I’ll get my plane ready …”
_____

The next day’s headlines …


The Atlantic Post

Ace Pilot Thwarts Air Pirates

Albany, NY- Yesterday, Ace Pilot and celebrity Ciro Aerinaio: the Atlantic Republic’s most celebrated fighter pilot, downed three pirate aircraft while defending a small airship en route to Albany.

While Mr. Aerinaio and the airship’s passengers and crew were unavailable for comment, onlookers watched with horror and exhilaration to see an air battle so close to urban areas.

“ You normally don’t see those things anymore,” quipped Thomas Lonnicci, a window-washer for one of the skyscrapers in view of the dogfight, “ It’s been a few years since I saw an air battle in general.”

Such an event is in contrast to High Senator Andollinni’s recently-passed legislation to continue to crack down on Air Crime, including Sky Piracy. The High Senator was also unavailable for comment about the event.

Due to security issues in the aftermath of the encounter, the Albany Air Militia is currently rotating its members to provide a 24-hour air patrol around the city. Citizens are advised to head for the nearest underground cover in the instance of another dogfight.

In other news, High Senator Andollinni’s attempts to promote peaceful trading and coexistence among the former New England and Mid-Atlantic states are still in debate, and, due to the rise in Sky Piracy, many speculate that some of the Atlantic Republic’s neighbors may be providing local pirates with aircraft and weaponry. Only time will tell if such rumors are true.

In the meantime, we can only hope for the best, trust in the wisdom and guidance of the High Senator, and continue to look up to great pilots such as Ciro Aerinaio.

Article by Gregorio Anggeli

OOC:w00t! So is this thread primarily for new headlines and such?

6:00am Radio News


in news today a bitter Battle was fought in the sky over Annapolis between Sky pirates and our own KKL fighter squadron Clan Wolf lasting over three hours with the lost of Six of our fighters and one zeppelins all man are safe and sound
Sky pirates lose were Twenty of theirs and both of their zeppelins more news after these commercials

Breaking News!

ZEPPELIN HIJACKING

Earlier today, Air Pirates attacked and hijacked a corporate zeppelin carrying oil and other supplies to Angermanland as it flew over the former South Dakota between the two nations. This is the latest in a series of zeppelin hijackings believed to be the work of the notorious air pirate, Frank Fengsworthe. According to sources within the administration, the government has hired a highly skilled mercenary to get to the bottom of this. This is highly important, as many of Loneque's food supplies come from Angermanland as part of a trade deal in exchange for industrial resources such as fuel and oil. Especially considering a new government program to ration such supplies, a program that is under fire from several notable politicians for being mysteriously baseless, this cannot be accepted as it places strain on both the local and foreign markets.

en rout from Cherokee, Cherokee holding, Angermanland, where it had formed up, to Black Rose in the The Central Provincial Republic of Loneque, where it would make it's delivery, the Northern Grain Convoy made it's ponderous way across the northern skies.

with sky piracy as common as it was, and no central authority in the areas between the two nations, it was a dangerous rout. not in the normal sense, as there would be few, if any, militia raids upon the convoy by other nations seeking advantage, but from some of the worst pirates around.

in this area, for the moment, the pirates and other such bandit gangs were the only authorities. the only powers who could extend their reach further than the distance a horseman could ride. the only ones who could feild aircraft in the numbers needed for a raid.

this made them dangerous.

twenty Inspiration class cargo ships packed full of grains, vegetables, and other foodstuffs made very tempting targets, though admittedly not so much so as the oil convoys that followed the rout in the opposite direction. as a result, the convoy was well protected. two Mother class carriers, with their accompanying Hummingbird light fighters, five Hells Teeth class airships, and five wings of five Blue Jay escorts. every single ship carrying the sword and crown roundel, though there was a mix of ownership roundels to be seen.

five of them, on a wing of modified Blue Jays, the red sword and white scale of the county of Lancaster.

"Lancaster Knight, this is Grain Lead. Athena's Blessing reports possible hostiles inbound from the rear of the convoy. take your wing and check it out."

Chargone lent forward and hit the radio switch "Copy Grain Lead. proceeding as ordered." shifting frequency, then "Athena's Blessing reports possible hostiles inbound from the rear. we're checking it out. come about and form claw."

as the pilots in his wing acknowledged then pealed off into their assigned position starting from the rear of their currently angled line, he glanced around to be sure of the rest of the convoy.

hummingbirds launching from their Mothers were dropping into position to protect the rear, while the heavier ships were repositioning around the center for uninterrupted fields of fire, and the other Blue Jay squadrons mostly shifting forward for the moment to compensate.

then it was his turn to turn off to the right, arcing around to take his place in the center of the claw formation, slightly behind the other four planes. while it's real effectiveness was felt when hitting airships rather than fighters, this formation worked to the squadron's strengths regardless of target. Chargone's Blue Jay had had it's MGs stripped out and instead mounted an additional pair of cannon, while the other four had had their central cannon removed and replaced their MGs with heavier models. this was actually a rather common modification to Blue Jays that flew almost exclusively in the same wing, but the downside was sufficient that few who didn't regularly fly with the same wing adopted it. the plane with the cannon was more vulnerable to fighters, especially light, agile planes, than usual, while the other four no longer had the punch needed to rip apart larger targets.

however, when one is a knight and ones wing mates are ones own retainers, it is quite rare for one to find ones self in a situation where such would be a problem.

"all right. tanks are good, morning report indicates plenty of fuel and ammunition left on the carriers. wing status?"

"one, tanks are good, sir. no problems" Joseph Michals, Chargone's second in command, made his response brief and to the point.

"two, slight vibration in the left engine, mechies say it's no worry, hasn't been a problem so far but i don't want to push it if i don't have to. tanks are good." Sarah Michelle Cunningham was an anomaly in the wing. in charge of the wing's finances, and the only woman, none the less she was good at what she did.

"three, no problems so far, tanks are good, sir." Chargone's squire, one Matthias of Lancaster, third son of the Count of Lancaster. a fair pilot by the squadron's standards, and at least above average by anyone else's.

"four, i been sitting in this cockpit so long i can't feel my arse, but the plane's fine. fuels good. confirm two's engine issue shouldn't be an issue. won't guarantee it past ninety percent though." Richard Williams, Lancaster Four for this mission and the wing's mechanic.


Chargone grinned "right then. throttle two thirds. lets go see what we got."
affirmative responses came with an increase in the engine pitch of the planes around him, as the small formation sped back the way it had come.


what they had was a scout wing from one of the local pirate bands. upon the request that they identify themselves, they attempted to run. however, the wing expanded it's claw formation, allowing the outer four members to use their guns to force the pirates to stay in a very small box as they fled, allowing Chargone's triple auto cannons to do their deadly work. one after another the pirate planes took a round to each wing and the center from behind, and few took more than two such to hit something vital and bring the plane down. the last couple attempted to peel off out of the box in spite of the claw's outer members, and promptly had their wings shot completely off by streams of fire from the heavier machine guns those Blue Jays were mounting.

"all right guys, we're done here. let's turn around." frequency shift again, "Grain Lead, Lancaster Knight reporting. possible hostiles confirmed as five pirate scouts, irregular light planes, probably custom jobs. all targets down. request refuel and rearm instructions."

"Knight, Grain Lead. your wing is to dock with Mother Goose upon return for requested replenishment. wing credit for five light pirate scouts, type Ugly confirmed."

the knight grinned. Ugly, from the U for unknown or undefined, and the fact that most of them, simply put, Were. "acknowledged" "wing, Knight. we dock with Mother Goose for resupply. half credit for one kill each, formation credit for the other three. you know the drill. "

"hah. if we keep getting this kinda thing all the way to Black Rose we'll've made a fine profit, even after the ammo and fuel costs" Williams responded

"more than that, Richard" this from Cunningham "on This run, the Prince pays the bills, provided there's no losses to the convoy."

"all right, enough chatter. dock by the numbers"

"aye, sir."
"two confirms"
"three in line"
"four awaiting instructions."



meanwhile, the convoy had dropped back into it's more regular cruising formation and was continuing on it's way.

"Captain! He's on my six!" screamed the young Liutenant into the radio. An enemy Bf. 109 unleashed its fury on the pilot, rittling the canopy wnad fuselage with rounds. "I'm hit! Mayday! Ma..." Sherman listened to the radio cut out in static as he saw his wingman's plane explode in a fireball of feul and ammunition. Now two enemies were on the Sherman's tail, both lining up for a shot.

"Fuck!" he cursed as tracers started raking across the air around the plane. Sherman pulled back on the stick and slammed the left aerilon pitching his Kestrel into a roll, then hitting the brake and streaking behind the enemies. He unleashed a burst of 20mm rounds at an enemy, nailing his right wing and sending him into a death roll. Two more enemies came into the picture from above. They racketed off at him, nailing his plane with a hail of 13mm rounds. Sherman ducked down as he saw the canopy showered with sparks from the hits on the fuselage. He pulled up, causing the two diving planes to overshoot and fly by.

With a three on one fight going on, he decided that it was time to bug out. Heading for the clouds, he began a rapid ascent to safety. The first Bf. 109 was on his tail and began firing, it's rounds blowing holes all over. His plane began to shudder as it lost control. "What the hell is this!" yelled Sherman as he looked back. Just as he dreaded, the elevators were nailed. As he started losing altitude, he saw the other two Bf. 109s coming up at him, lining up their sights. "Oh, damnit." he cursed as they began firing. He ducked as the rounds hit the plane, shredding the props and pecking at the fuselage. Looking for one last bit of revenge, he slammed the tail into a left turn, swinging the end of the doomed plane into the front of the right Bf. 109, destroying the tail but killing the enemy pilot in the collision whos plane spun into the one behind him.

The third Bf. 109, in complete disbelief of what just happened, broke off and tried to come around to see Sherman go down once and for all. His plane, now without a working prop, elevator and tail was plunging down, hundreds of feet towards the ground. "Come on...open!" he yelled as he shook the canopy. Drawing his Colt, he fired off the clip into the canopy and began whacking it with his pistol, breaking a hole open in the glass. Unclipping his harness, he jumped out of the hole and into the cold winter air. His chute deployed, but he was too low. He was going in for a hard landing in the woods, streaking through the treetops. He was about to hit the ground when...

"Sherman, are you going to eat the rest of your eggs?" It was Marcus, his older brother.

"What?" asked Sherman, not too aware of what was going on.

Sherman was a well built man, sculpted by long hours at the Ripley AFB Rec Center. It was another flashback of that damned night when he lost his very good friend, Liutenant Charlie Walsh to Air Pirates from the Southern Lands. The day replayed in his head frequently, reminding him that even the best can be caught off guard.

"You've been staring at them for at least five minutes," laughed Marcus. "Dad even finished his before you did!"

Marcus was a beast of a man, his large muscular build showing through his Navy Shirt. A Rear Admiral in the Fleet, he was in an exceptionally good modd today with the news of his new ship being nearing completion on the Michigan Drydock. A heavy FlaK Ship, it was to be the pride of the ISANC, even admired by the Fleet Admiral himself.

"Well, Marc," said sherman taking a large bite of one of his eggs. "I guess I could let you have one." Marcus began reaching for the plate wth his fork when Sherman stabbed the egg and flung it at his brother with utmost accuracy, hitting him square in the face, the yolk splattering in a yellow ooze all over him.

Sherman started laughing heartily as Marcus used his hand to swipe off the yolk that was over his eyes which immediately turned to Sherman. Marcus let out a growl and flung himself at Sherman knocking him out of his chair onto the floor. The two began brawling, kicking each other off of one another while flinging more food including bacon, eggs, grapefruit and oatmeal at each other. Both were laughing until the booming voice from the door rang out.

"What in the hell is wrong with you two!" it was their father, president Andrew Fitzgerald, the leader and idol of the Americans within his great industrial nation. "You two make a mess of this place every morning you're actually home! Now clean it up!"

The two brothers looked at each other, then at their father, then at their food. They smirked as they grabbed two eggs and flung them at their dad wh ducked in time to miss the first egg which splat on the wall behind him. The second nailed him in the chest, covering his suit with the runny yolk. The two brotherss rushed past their dad and out the door, waving bye as they jumped into Marcus' car, an old Deusenburg, and waved goodbye to their dad who was shaking his fist at them from the door as they sped down the street.

"And next time clean up the god damned mess!" Yelled the president from the door. He sighed and smiled. "I love those kids..." he said as he walked back inside to get a maid to clean it up.

Aviana Corp underground R&D facility, Ozark Holding, Angermanland

"yo, Ma'am Cesque, we got the test drum up and running!"
Ma'am Cesque de Aviana, (pronounced Sehs-Q, as she so often had to clarify for people who had only read it in newspapers and such. it didn't help that the radio kept getting it wrong, either) looked up from where she was going over the designs for a powerful electro-magnetic clamp. the next step in the current project once the drum in question was compleated. "ahh. Pi. yes, very good. I'll be down shortly and we can begin the tests. if it meets the specs, we can move on to the clamp. if this works..."

"yeah, yeah, if it works the next Aviana Corp combat airship will be the bain of large targets everywhere, i know. you only tell me as much almost every time i make a report, you know."

as they spoke, Cesque rolled up the plans and returned them to their proper cubby

Cesque laughed slightly at this "yes, i suppose i do. not that that makes it any less true. and you forget it's other potential applications. the land forces of the various holdings will be just as pleased, possibly more so."

with this, they left the room, Cesque very careful to make sure she locked it behind them and informed the two guardsmen, both corporate retainers with very high security clearance from the corporation and the Royal Intelligence Service, of where they were going. even in supposedly secure facilities like this one, things could go wrong, after all.

three levels down was a large chamber, in which currently stood a rather unusual steam engine, which, as could be seen when they rounded it, was attached to an unusual ring. the equipment was not exactly small either.

"heat's good, pressure's good, test equipment's in place. every thing's good to go whenever you're ready, ma'am."
"well then, Pi, give the order. lets see how it goes."
"right"
Pi turned away then called out across the room to the ... well, they were technicians, but working this machine they looked more like train crew. her voice, while distinctly feminine, carried well enough. actually, previous.. incidents.. had shown that she could do better than most sergeants in the company's guard when it came to authority, clarity, being heard through gunfire, and carrying distance when giving orders.
"Fire it up, James!"
"Aye, Mistress."

a string of commands, levers pulled, steam hissed, and then the... Cesque could only see four of them from their current position, but knew there were at least twice that on the test model... large pistons on the upper sides of the ring began moving. slowly at first, but rapidly building speed. shortly there after, the inner layer of the ring, now revealed as being several parts, began to spin. slowly at first, but rapidly building speed.

"Mister James, the speed by the percentage of required dial, if you please."
"aye Ma'am. one half and climbing already, Ma'am, but the gain is slowing."
"very good."

it took the engine a good quarter hour, in the end, to reach required speed. an hour after that, it reached one and three quarters of the speed required, before first topping out, then beginning to vibrate alarmingly. it was quickly shut down at that point, but had proved more than satisfactory.

"Right. Mister James, install the dummy load then run it again. if it still meets specs, set the safety limiter at one tenth bellow the point at which the excessive vibration begins, and begin construction of the drum for the presentation unit."

"aye Ma'am"

"Pi, come with me. we get to go set about initiating construction and testing of the clamp. the pressure chamber is, so my brother tells me, already completed."

"yes Ma'am, it is."

'very well, come along then"

with that, they left.

Albany, New York: A Territory of the Atlantic Republic of Nueve Italia

~ Last afternoon's pirate raid was, though suspected, still a bit of a shock. Sky Pirates usually never struck close to urban areas, lest they face the wrath of a city's militia and AA turrets.

High Senator Andollinni has immediately announced the formation of an elite Anti-Piracy unit being created in Nueve Italia City to sweep the Hudson River for possible pirate bases. Though Antonio Andollinni had not announced any other details of the squadron, many people had heard rumors of an experimental plane that was going to be used by a group of Aces ...

Still, as in all things, life carried on.

Ciro, content with his $600 pay from a simple escort mission, was spending his time under his plane, checking and re-checking it over, making sure there was absolutely nothing wrong with it. It had become an obsession of his, as of late: his plane was his life. Without the custom-made E2G Aguila, Ciro had no way of making money, getting around, or living. He was a privateer: a pilot for hire that was also legally able to engage enemies of the Atlantic Republic. For profit, of course.

The air around Albany was a-buzz with various planes and zeppelins traversing its airways. Neon-green sky-cabs were dotted all over the place, and the large cargo-Zeppelins bringing foodstuffs from Western New York, Oil from New Jersey, and machinery goods from Connecticut docked themselves by the river, giving them enough room to land and unload their supplies.

The city was running its normal day-to-day, and Ciro thought it was going to be another ho-hum experience for him too until he happened to look up and see Ambra again.

What had first caught his attention was a slight *thud* from the right side of his plane. When Ciro looked over to see a smooth, tan leg pull a white heel up on top of his Royal Blue aircraft, he nearly hit his head on the underside as he stood up with all haste to see what exactly was going on: he really didn't like his machine tampered with.

" I've got another job lined up for you."

The thought of more pay was enough to pique Ciro's interests, but after the last mission, he was wondering just how far he would have to go this time.

" Where to?" was all he asked.

" Baltimore, in the Shakal Empire."

The Shakal Empire, a nation-state that had sprung up to the direct South of the Atlantic Republic of Nueve Italia, so far had unknown relations and intentions towards the Nitalian people, but still: no nation was exactly friendly with eachother nowadays, especially when they had such close borders. You never know ...

" May I ask just why you're leaving the Republic?"

Ambra, still sitting atop Ciro's custom plane, looking stunning in a sky-blue skirt and white top, looked off towards a Zeppelin anchored to a skyscraper's roof.

" I haven't told you what I do, have I?"

Ciro was flabbergasted: he actually didn't know why Ambra had to arrive in Albany, much less what she did for a living. He shook his head slowly, to which he received a small grin.

" I'm actually an Ambassador of the Atlantic Republic. I'm heading towards Shakal to try and establish diplomatic relations and a trade arrangement."

That explains the pirate attack: must've known they'd get a hefty ransom off of her ...

Now aware of the duty he was actually doing to Nueve Italia in protecting Ambra Faccina, Ciro had to wonder something.

" If you're so important, why is the Republic trusting just me to protect you? If things go wrong, I can't fight off all of the Shakal Empire. Lord knows I'll take a few of the bastards with me though ..."

Still with his cocky-attitude, Ambra could not help but laugh at Ciro. They had been friends ever since they grew up together in Brooklyn, and had even dated for awhile. After Ciro's father committed suicide, however, the pilot ran. He ran from his home, from his job, and from the love of his life ... Yet now, she had placed herself so forcefully back into his lap, and Ciro could not help wonder if it was coincedence or fate.

Deciding not to bring up the past, Ciro finished by saying.

" If you're heading to Shakal, I'll give you escort once again."

" Thank you Ciro, but you aren't going alone: eight Difensores from the Sons of Sicily will be backing you up, not to mention that this time, my Zep' is armed."

Aware of the seriousness of the situation if Ciro was to be protecting an armed airship with two squadrons of planes, Ciro had no choice but to accept. He was responsible for the well-keeping of the Atlantic Republic, and it was also a more ... personal matter.

By next day, Ciro's plane was ready, the 2 squadrons of A3s had arrived, and the Zeppelin was prepared for take-off as well. A telegram had been sent to alert Kristina Schraepl, the leader of the Empire, of the presence of the group, their intentions, and stating that recent Sky Piracy attacks in New Jersey and Southern New York were the reason behind their heavy armament.

All Ciro had to do now was ensure that the mission went smoothly ...
_____

New Jersey, near the Atlantic-Shakal border territory of Delaware

" Eagle One, this is Red Lead, Eagle One respond."

The skies couldn't have been clearer, and so far the operation had gone of without a hitch. Ciro quickly responded to his squad mate's radio call, however: short and brief transmissions usually brought bad news.

" This is Eagle One, how do you read, Red Lead?"

" Amber Home is reporting unidentified aircraft approaching from the coastline. Orders?"

Amber Home, the callsign for the Zeppelin, was indeed correct as Ciro took a quick glance at his surroundings and saw several black dots coming out of the Atlantic.

" Red Lead, take your squadron and form a tight-knit perimeter around Amber Home. Green Lead?"

" Go ahead, Eagle One."

" Fly on my tail, we'll check this out."

" Copy that, Eagle One, Green Flight falling in."

The five planes made their way away from the Zeppelin, taking up a flying-V formation as they came nearer to the unidentified aircraft. As Ciro got closer, he spotted each plane sported a pair of stacked wings.

Aeh-two Guerrieros ... only militia and pilots use them anymore.

Indeed, the sighting of an A2, such an outdated aircraft, usually meant trouble. When Ciro was close enough, he began to hail the all-metal Bi-planes.

" Unidentified aircraft: you are entering the presence of a diplomatic Zeppelin. State your name and purpose, or we will fire."

The silence that Ciro, the 2 squads of A3s, and Amber Home received in response was deafening. Switching to a secure channel, Ciro Aerinaio's fighter-pilot instincts kicked in.

" Green Lead, take your Wing and get on their left. Green Two, Green Four: you're with me. Get high and prepare to dive on my mark."

As the formation split off to carry out its orders, the approaching A2s fanned out to display 5 fighters closing fast.

" Shit ..."

The ensuing air battle didn't last longer than five minutes. Ciro had dived, drawing two planes away from the formation, at which point he ordered the two pilots he had sent above to dive on his pursuers. As those A2s were shot to ribbons, Ciro pulled up in time to see Green Lead and Green Three on the tails of the other three planes.

Punching his throttle, Ciro managed to catch up to them, fired a burst of .50 cal which caused the formation to split in an every-man-for-himself chaotic fashion, at which point they were picked off easily enough.

The excitement over winning the air engagement vanished quickly as another call came in.

" Eagle One, this is Amber Home: multiple unidentified aircraft approaching, bearing the same path the last squadron took!"

Indeed, coming from the ocean was a swarm of fighters: twelve or fourteen at least. Not even with the guns on the Zep' could they hope to hold them off.

" Goddamnit, Green Flight, Red Flight, with me: we'll try and draw them off the Zep'. Amber Home, contact anyone in the area: we need assistance."

The radio operator on Amber Home tried anything in New Jersey first, but the nearest militia was twenty minutes away: too long.

Thinking fast, he knew that they were more in Shakal territory than they were in New Jersey, so he set a wide-frequency into Delaware, hoping for the best.

" Attention! Attention this is the Zeppelin Amber Home bearing a diplomatic Representative into Shakal from the Atlantic Republic! We've come under Pirate attack and are outnumbered, we need assistance! I repeat, this is the diplomatic Zeppelin Amber Home, we are under Pirate attack, someone please respond!"~

Somewhere Between Loneque and Angermanland

Duncan Deangelo Dimetrios surveyed the land beneath his plane. He wasn't sure whether he had crossed the border yet, but he didn't really care. At the moment he was safe, nothing threatening out here, but soon he would reach the area of the attacks, and he had no idea what he'd find there.

It turned out what he did find was a fleet of zeppelins with Angermanland markings. He thought that it was most likely one of the grain flights that were sent to Loneque in exchange for the oil he was tracking down.

Duncan noticed several carriers in the fleet, and he sent over a radio message.

"This is DDD, requesting permission to land, over. I'm the pilot Loneque's sent to find the missing oil."

"DDD, this is Grain Lead, stand by for confirmation and escort."

shortly there after, a pair of hummingbirds flew past his plane, then looped around and dropped into formation to either side of him

"DDD, H escort 1. you're cleared to dock with Mother May I. follow me." the plane on his right wobbled it's wings before accelerating towards one of the carrier ships. "be advised, when I say dock, i mean dock. the Mother's don't have runways."


aboard the carrier in question, waiting in the small flight deck observation room, actually, were a number of notable persons, at least so far as the Northern Grain Convoy went.
Capitalia Air Fleet Admiral Marcus Peel, Grain Lead in person, on this run, Sir Chargone Forsyth, surprisingly the highest ranking member of the nobility to be found and carrying his halberd as was his right, lieutenant M.J. Cooper of the Air Marshals, who provided most of the security for the convoy and represented the Law Enforcement Division in it's entirety, and Jim Baker, the captain of the Mother May I.
the loss of oil convoys, even single ships, was always a major issue for the principality, and as such warranted such attention.

St. Paul, Minnesota, Industrial States of America

The St. Paul Cathedral loomed above the city on it's bluff, the patena roof glinting in the dawn light. Below it, the Capital building stood, more of a military compound than what it was before. The white domed building still stood and acted as the main government building housing all three branches of gov't. Around it was a large stone wall, one like a kind ou would see at Stillwater Penitentiary. Guarg Towers, Search Lights and Triple-A lined the top of the wall with the larger Md. 38 FlaK guns sitting in the perfectly colored green grass lawn of the massive area. The entire structure sat under the shadow of a huge 54m tall FlaK Tower, bustling 12 powerful 12.8cm FlaK cannons and 8 quad mounted 2cm FlaK cannons. Draped from the West end of the structure was the Iron Fist of Industry and the Flag of the Industrial States, set perfectly above the capitol dome.

Inside the basement, seven men stood around a huge table with a glass map of the Great Lakes region on it. Several small metal pieces were moving around on it slowly, propelled by magnets under the glass which was connected to the controls from the Command Center. They represented the ISAF Zeppelin, Naval and Armored Train movements through out the nation. A small red piece was currently their focus. It represented the pride of the current Naval Zepellin Fleet, the ISS Superior. It was slowly moving across the board towards a little black piece.

"What is the situation?" asked President Fitzgerald.

"Pirates, sir." answered Air Marshal Paul Jameson. "They were reported to have been harassing our ore shipping tankers off the coast of Isle Royale. They have been fended off so far, but it is an unnessecary waste of resources to stand idly by and allow them to ransack our fleets further. The Superior along with two Walleye-Class MRLS are moving in to solve the problem."

The President shrugged. "Anything else?"

"Yes, sir." replied the Marshal. "There has been a request from Commander Pershing to have Captain Fitzgerald transferred to his airship to assist in the assault."

The President smiled. It was about time Sherman got in on an assault mission. There hadn't been one in two years since the River City Raid which turned out to be a disaster for both sides, with the Pirates being totally annhialated at the price of a Battlezeppelin exploding and destroying the entire city along with most of the surface combatants. "He'd be honored to, Marshal." said the President.

"Good," he replied, "That's what i like to hear."

_______________________


Six Hours Later, Skies above Lake Superior

The Jet Black Ge-110 Vulture flew through the night skies towards the green lights flashing in the sky. Sherman took a sip out of his coffee mug and picked up his radio.

"Olaf, I caught me a big one." he said. There was a puase for about twenty seconds, then another voice replied back.

"Aye, lad." it said. "A muskie?"

"58-incher," said Sherman glancing at the post-it on his canopy. "Barred."

"Roger that, Captain Fitzgerald. Maintain current course to meet up with the Superior." the voice quickly asnwered. "Pershing will be happy to see you, sir."

"I'm glad to hear it. Fitzgerald, out." he nudged his plain to a slightly slower speed and turned on the high-beam landing lights, revealing a massive dark colored airship. He followed the green lights in and hit the deck at a slow speed, catching the wire and coming to a halt. As the landing slab was cranked up to the plane bay, Sherman opened the canopy to hear a cheerful voice from above him.

"Fitz!" yelled the man above him clad in a black Commander's Uniform. "How's my favorite ace doing?"

Sherman smiled as he removed his cap and set it on the controls. "Fantastic, Alec." he said, looking up. "Quite a fat one you're flying here. What happened to Alexandra?"

"At home in Minneapolis," He said with a big smile on her face. "This is my one chance to cheat, my boy. I always liked bigger girls anyways!"

Duncan docked gracefully. He had been forced to land on airships numerous times, and in fact his first landing was on a zeppelin. It was nothing new to him.

He got out of his plane and thoroughly secured it. It wasn't that he didn't trust the people here, but he had plenty of enemies and you never knew where they would turn up, so he always played it safe.

Duncan was escorted to the observation deck, where he was met by several men obviously of great importance in Angermanland.

"Greetings gentlemen. I'm here to find our missing oil."

Cooper was the first to respond "huh. tell us what you know. maybe we can help."

"it was odd that we came across those scouts then never heard anything else, few days back" Chargone added "perhaps they had something to do with it."

"we'll offer what assistance we can without exposing the convoy." Peel added. "loosing oil tankers is Not something the principality can afford. for now, however, food, drink, and introductions are in order. the crew will refuel your plane in the mean time."

"Sir Peel, my wing and i would be happy to be the ones to assist. we have the proper clearance and such for access to sensitive material. and don't try and claim i don't have the authority, Cooper, this is as much a military and political matter as it is a legal one, and i more than outrank you in both instances." it had been apparent the LED officer was going to object, "it's not like the convoy can spare your wings any more than it can mine."

ooc: well, that was awkwardly written. heh. feel free to control characters as much as necessary [Chargone Will get his way ] to get back off the ship and on with the mission, with added blue jays.

" Attention! Attention this is the Zeppelin Amber Home bearing a diplomatic Representative into Shakal from the Atlantic Republic! We've come under Pirate attack and are outnumbered, we need assistance! I repeat, this is the diplomatic Zeppelin Amber Home, we are under Pirate attack, someone please respond!"~

Shakal Border Airfield, Shakal Empire

The Radio transmission came in and the aibase CO ordered a squad of fighters scrambled. He replied to the distress call,

"This is Shakal Airbase Sanctuary. Recieved distress call from Diplomatic Zepplin Amber Home. Squad of 6 Bn-IV Aircraft coming to assist. Hold tight."

As he spoke the planes were taking off armed with 3 20mm cannon to help take down the enemy pirates with little effort.

Skies above Delaware, Diplomatic Zeppelin Amber Home

~ The response from Airbase Sanctuary was nothing short of a miracle: for a second, Amber Faccina didn't expect any help to be given at all. All the while, her eyes were intently scanning the ensuing air battle. Her concentration was never broken, even as her Zeppelin's .30 cal guns started to roar at the onslaught.

" Eagle One, this is Amber Home, help is on the way, give a few minutes for arrival."

Ever since the new pirate threat had been seen, only one thing had been on Ciro's mind: Where is the Zep' these planes are launching from? There was no explanation for them coming out of the ocean, and the only conclusion Ciro could reach was that there was a Zeppelin(s) deploying the A2s. The real $64,000 question was why were these planes being deployed anyway? It was one Zeppelin already announced as a diplomat's ship: not much of a catch for any pirate, let alone one that could afford to send a scout wave of 5 planes, and then another wave of 18 fighters (Ciro's first guess at 14 had been horribly, horribly wrong).

Still, as these ideas buzzed through his consciousness, Ciro had been busy: his body had been put under extreme G-Forces within the past few minutes, and he had had to bear an unwilling witness to the deaths of 3 of the 8 pilots that were with him. Nevertheless, thankfully the A3 Difensore that the milita had the fortune to be flying was quite superior to the pirates' A2s, giving the smaller group a major advantage. The real advantage, however, became more apparent as Ciro downed his third enemy plane.

Ciro's natural talent, experience, honed abilities, and his unique fighter all combined together to make a tiger in the sky: its claws striking down any who tried to reach Ambra's zeppelin.

He had put his E2G in a steep climb, and had baited a pirate into following him. Knowing that his ceiling limit was a lot higher than the bi-plane, Ciro punched his throttle forward, his altimeter racing upwards, until finally, the moment he was planning for happened.

The A2 following him lurched, shuddered, and then flipped over itself and began to fall back to Earth. Not knowing whether the pilot would be able to get out of an uncontrolled stall, the mercenary immediately dived on him. The Bi-plane flipped and spiraled through the air crying out as the wind's powers stressed the airframe, and Ciro, the merciful pilot, obliged to the plane's call for death. The six .50 cal guns flashed for a brief moment, and then the Aguila pulled up and rolled away from the flaming carcass of the pirate's aircraft.

Thankful that aid was on the way, Ciro knew that he and the 5 remaining members of his squad, though still outnumbered by the 2-1 by the pirate planes, would have to trust in their technological advantage until the Bn-IVs of Shakal could arrive ...~

Shakal Empire Canadian Border Ride on Pirate base

four McDonnell S2B Kestrel sitting on the runway go up in flames as 50cal rounds eat into them as a Desert Fox MK2 fighter strafe the runway as others drop 1000kg bombs or fired their Min-rockets on the base

"take those dam Flak guns out before they do more damage to us"said Stone as he gets a hole in his left wing

"bandits six o'clock high and caming in fast"

"right going after them"said Stone as he pulls his fighter into a climb to greet them

OCC: im almost done, can i be accepted?

The Shakal squadron flew in high above the battle utilizing there small agile profiles. As soon as they drew close enough the squad dove down on the pirates from above firing as soon as they had clear shots. The odds were now in the favor of the former defenders. The Shakal pilots picked targets of high profile, such as those tailing allied aircraft or any heading towards the Zepplin.

Royal Military Testing Facility, south of Columbus, Capitalia Holding, Angermanland

royal air patrols flew constantly a fair distance out. no one was going to get a good view, if any, of what took place here unless they were officially authorized to do so. in fact, for extra security, the test unit had been assembled in a concrete bunker built into the side of a small hill.

"Load the first round" Cesque's soft voice ordered.
"aye, Ma'am!" Pi turned "load round. engage primary clamp unit!"
"primary clamp unit engaged."
a railed crane built into the ceiling trundled across the room, selected a ten meter long steel shaft, returned, then extended so as to fit the shaft into the test unit's mussel, before slowly pushing it's length in until the clamp gripped it, and releasing. the rest of the shaft's length disappeared quickly under the grip of the magnetic clamp.
"first round loaded!"
"engage secondary and tertiary clamps."
"secondary clamp engaged."
"tertiary clamp engaged!"
"set clamps to single release mode"
"clamp one set. two, set. three set. all clamps set to single release mode."

"round loaded, Ma'am."
"very good, Pi. target mock enemy position downrange."
another stream of orders and confirmations adjusted the aim.
"target locked, Ma'am."
"begin firing procedure."
"Aye Ma'am!"
"release chamber intake pressure valves, activate pumps."
a flurry of activity, a hiss of steam...
"pumps activated"
"valves released. chamber pressure at one tenth and rising"
"engage drum pistons"
"drum pistons engaged. speed at one half tenth. rising."
and now began a short wait.

'his highness should be most pleased with this' Cesque thought to herself, 'father too, come to think of it. the airships we'll mount this on should be worth something and no mistake'

"Drum Speed at optimal"
"chamber pressure at optimal"
"shut down the chamber pumps, close valves. reduce drum piston pressure. "
"valves closed"
"pumps disengaged"
"drum running on momentum and maintainence power."

"Ready on your order, Ma'am."

"right then." Cesque paused a moment. this was ... significant... "you may fire when ready."

"aye ma'am!" Pi turned an yelled out "activate clamp release... NOW!"

a great whoosh of pressure, nothing like as damaging as the explosion in a typical gun and causing no noticeable recoil, and the steel rod sailed from the muzzle of the test model. those who could were watching the target through binoculars. for a moment it seemed the round would not arrive, or had missed. then there was a flash of motion, a dust could... and when it cleared, the rod had not only buried it's self in the concrete and steel target to a depth of 9 meters, it had created an appreciable crater around its self as well.

Cesque observed this for a moment, before ordering "report!"

"ma'am! mussel velocity as predicted. accuracy within anticipated perimeters. fuel usage slightly higher than expected. target damage appears to excead specifications, however additional examination will be required."

"right. get on it then. this afternoon we begin the speed trials. this thing's got to be loaded and ready again as quickly as possible. then we need to see how many rounds we can fire at that speed before it begins to succumb to pressure damages. then we let the artillery crews at it to stress test it to the point of destruction. then we build another one in an airship and do it all again." she noticed something dripping down her face, and reached up to wipe it away. "and someone get me a towel. 'cursed steam condensed and blew back in through the firing port." others suddenly noticed they were dripping wet as well, no longer caught in the moment of excitement.

Pi simply grinned "i love this job!"

Raid

"Hack the skys are free of bandits so your are free to go in and level their base boys"said Stone over the Radio as he and his wing circles above the Pirate base

"ok wing commander we are heading in now"

20 DF Mk2 fly in from south loaded with bombes fly and drop their load

"Dog one to command misson over returning to base" said Hack

#right'o Dog one good job#
#command to Baker one return to base for rearming and fueling and new mission#

"Baker one copy that retuning to base now"said Stone as he banks his plane

"Well, we suspect a infamous Loneque air pirate is behind this. The planes reportedly used are known to be used by his forces, and he has always had strange methods. I'm on my way to his last know area of operation, and I'll gladly accept your help."

With that, Duncan, now followed by a squadron of Blue Jay pilots. They all launched shortly, and Duncan proceeded to continue his original path north. After several hours they flew over a small town with an airstrip. The town looked like it had been abandoned for months. Regardless, Duncan chose to land and investigate on foot. He requested that some of the Blue Jays stay in the air in case it was a trap.

------------------------

Somewhere in the Mountains, Loneque

The town was very modern looking. It had been built specifically for Project: Charlemagne, and as such had only existed for a few years. It had all the modern conveniences, designed to support the extensive team working on the project. Speaking of which, the project was nowhere to be seen. Materials entered the town, and went into a small hangar, but nothing ever came out, save the transports. Aerial recon would reveal nothing, even if you could get there considering the anti-air defenses installed. Something was up, and it was big.

Aboard the ISS Superior, 18nm away from Isle Royale

Sherman and Alec stood in the Control Room of the massive Zeppelin looking our the huge window in front of them at the waves of the lake travelling across the water. Outlined by the light of the early morning sunrise was a large island with a few lights on at its far eastern tip.

"That's the one," said Alec pointing to the lights. "Kor keeps up shop there. He's been harassing the tankers to the last month and a hlaf now with his boats. They also went after and hijacked a small Zepellin belonging to a somewhat wealthy Milwaukee guy, and now they're using it to ship the stolen iron ore to this place."

"What happened to the rich guy?" asked Sherman.

"They tossed him and his wife out into the lake." replied Alec. "Hypothermia got 'em."

"So what are the mission perameters?" Sherman said in a dull voice.

Alec smiled. "Think of it like River City." he laughed. "Except this time we don't need to worry about any stolen 256's. And this time, we have actual ground attack Zeppelins, not an Ant-Zep ship that is forced to fire on the ground with FlaK guns."

Sherman walked over to a coffee maker in the room and poured himself a cup. "So basically," he said while he filled his brew. "destroy everything and eave no survivors."

"I'd say that's a good way of putting it." aughed Alec. Just as he said that, an ensign on a control panel below them turned to the Commander.

"Commander Pershing! We have ten contacts moving in from vector three-five-niner!"

"Roger that, Ensign." replied Alec in a more serious tone. "You better get going, Sherman." he said as he moved over to the comm system.

"Affirmative," said Sherman as he ran out of the room towards his plane. As he ran he heard Alec's voice over the announcement system.

"Attention all personell. This is Flotilla Commander Pershing. All combat personell are to man their battle stations immediately. This is not a drill. Ten enemy contacts are coming in on our position at high speed. All pilots are to take off immediately and enter defensive formation. All artillery crews are to immediately arm the first salvos and prepare to fire and target Alpha-five, Sigma-niner. We have five more miles to move before our artillery crews can begin the saturation stage of the mission, and all Zepelins are to move to full-ahead speed. Remember, we brake for no one. I repeat, this is not a drill. Pershing, out.

Around the ship, crews rushed to their stations in organized chaos. Pilots hurriedly moved to their planes and jumped in, quickly checking their instruments and preparing for drop takeoff. Triple-A crews jumped in their gunnery seats and readied themselves for defense. The artillerymen, probably the most important part of the mission, jumped into the rocket stations on the two Multiple Rocket Launch Ships and primed the first salvo of the dangerous 3.5" HE UGL's in each of the six pods on the craft and set their sights on the designated attack vector, Alpha-five Sigma-niner.

Sherman hopped into his Black Vulture and checked the systems, and positive that he was ready for combat, signalled to the engineers on the Control Platform with a thumbs up. The controllers showed him the signal back and and began pulling down on a few levers. The Vultures wheels were secured and Sherman gunned the engine. He sat in full power, the plane held in place by the powerful hydraulic clamps on the wheels. The platform he was on tilted down to a 45 degree angle. He radioed in the all clear and the clamps suddenly snapped off of the wheels. His plane slammed out of the Carrier, zooming downwards at high speed. Sherman pulled up and moved into formation with the other 20 planes in a holding pattern in front of the Zeppelin Flotilla awaiting the attack. Off in the distance, ten small black shadows were seen, a blur above some small clouds moving in on the group.

"All Pilots, check in please." came the voice of female combat controller on the Carrier.

"Wardog Squadron, check." came the voice of Wardog 1.

"Badger Squadron, check."

"Mobius Squadron, check."

"Timber Squadron, check."

"Iron Suadron, check."

"Black Angel 1, checking in." said Sherman.

There was a murmur over the radio, then the controller's voice came back over.

"Roger that. All squadrons, prepare for battle."

(Heh, Wardog and Mobius, and me listening to Ace Combat music.)

Duncan crept stealthily through the semi-ruins of the town. This had once been a decent town that was famed for a bar that pilots of any kind could come to. Now it was a smoking ruin.

Suddenly, Duncan heard footsteps and he drew his revolver, turning the corner quietly. He saw a dark figure standing there. Duncan did a rapid turn and aimed his pistol.

"Freeze!" he shouted. Of course, the other man didn't freeze, instead they ran off and Duncan chased after them.

ooc: you Would post again before i got back after the one where i could do something.... *sigh*

IC:

with Michals and Cunningham flying top cover, and Williams making sure of the planes on the ground, Chargone and Matthias were accompanying Duncan on the ground.

while each carried a pair of pistols, those were not the weapon of choice for either man. if they had to shoot, rifles were preferable, and if not... well... there was a reason knights and their squires still trained in melee weapons.

when Duncan set off after the unknown, these two decided to try something a bit different. the rooftops in the area were rather readily accessible, and it did not take long for the pair to ascend.

from their vantage points, on opposite sides of the street they had been walking, they could see much more of the town without obstruction. including, Chargone quickly noticed, the man running from Duncan.

unslinging his rifle, he aimed and fired quickly, kicking up dust just in front of the fleeing figure.

"HALT, or the next one goes through your leg!" he called out.

Southern News Radio
Soviet Council Overturns Voting Law


Nelson Hicks, President of the Southern United States, passed an act repealing an act placing poll taxes for voting in Alabama and Mississippi. These taxes were primarily aimed at denying the Negro people the right to vote. This new act was wildly praised within the Communist Party, however many racists protested this act. These protests turned violent, with 15 killed by police and 113 people were arrested today. President Hicks said,

"The Communist Party promised to give equal rights to the Negro race, and now this promise will start to become fulfilled. Segregation in the Southern States will stop as long as I am president."

Military buildup is beginning as many racists are planned to protest further acts.

"We will purchase other nations weaponry, in order to keep civil rights in the Southern States.", President Hicks said.

Holding Pattern, 17nm from Isle Roayle Vector Alpha-five Sigma-niner

As the five squadrons and Captain Fitzgerald sat in their defensive pattern, a bad message came out from the Combat Controller.

"Be advised," she said in a somewhat worried voice. "The incoming objects look too small on radar to be planes. The intel crew is crunching the data right now, so keep yourselves on high alert."

About thirty seconds passed, then everyone's worst fears were a reality.

"This is Wardog 1! I have a confirmed sighting of ten aerial torpedos inbound on the Flotilla!"

"All fighters break off!" came in the Controller's frantic voice. "FlaK defenses are opening up!"

The 21 planes all broke off in different directions just as a hail of lead screamed by them from the Zeppelins. The Triple-A teams were blasting away at the torpedos to knock them out before they hit, and so far it was working okay.

"This is Iron 4! I count seven Streakers down, three active!"

The three active torpedos hurdled towards the Flotilla, two of them hitting into the carrier and the third falling into the lake below. The one torp penetrated and exploded inside the Carrier, rupturing a gas bag and causing it to lurch slightly. The second torp glanced off the side and exploded in the air, slightly rocking the structure.

The radio buzzed for a few seconds, then came back online. "All pilots!" came the controller's voice again over the blare of klaxons and emergency announcements. "You are to move ahead of the Flotilla and secure a firing zone at A5S9+12! We need to keep these MRLS safe from any more strikes! Captain Fitzgerald, you have been granted command of the five squadrons by Commander Pershing."

"Roger that, Control." said Sherman. "All squadrons, form up on me. We're heading in."

"Affirmative, Captain Fitzgerald." came in the replies of the squadron leaders. The 16 Kestrels and 4 Condors formed on his tail, making a large 'V' formation. They sped up towards designated area and prepared for a patrol run.

On the way there, another bad report came in. "Control, this is Mobius 1. There is a hostile Zeppelin sitting just before the designated vector. Please advise."

"Commander Pershing has ordered you to eliminate any threats to the Flotilla." came Control's voice.

"Roger, Control." said Sherman. "All squadrons, prepare for anti-Zeppelin combat. Iron squadron, take the lead. All others, fly cover."

The Condor Squadron pulled up besides Fitzgerald, readied for the attack.

Stones and his man were back in the air heading to back up Squad of 6 Bn-IV Aircraft that were in battle with pirate that where attacking a Diplomatic Zeppelin

"watch your line of sight" said Stone as they near the battle and dropping their drop tanks

Buffalo, New York: Franco Manufacturers' Personal Hangar

~ They were beautiful. No one had expected such fantastic results, but there they were: 8 F7A Folgores. They were the newest prototype fighter to be built by Aldo Franco's company, and now they would have their first chance to really show what they could do. The fighters sat on the tarmac, broken up into two squadrons of 4, the engines buzzing with impatience as they whined to greet the sky.

" This is Lightning Squadron Leader, we have a go, waiting for clearance."

This test was the final exam for these planes: if they passed, Franco Manufacturers would be coming into a lot of money as this fighter surpassed the A2, A3, and A4 of rival Gervasio Air Works, and became the new mainstay fighter of the Atlantic Republic. A few select reporters (ones that knew when to keep their mouths shut), Aldo himself, the design team that had created the F7A, and a few other key people, including the mayor of Buffalo, had come out to see the demonstration.

" This is Tower, Lightning Squadron, you have clearance. Good luck out there."

One by one, the planes cruised down the runway, and finally tore off into the clouds. After a wait that seemed to take the rest of the day, Thunder Squadron was also up in the air, the 8 fighters gently circling the onlookers below, much to their exhiliration at having finally put the F7A to its last trial.

" Thunder and Lightning, this is Tower. You have your mission objectives: we'll keep in touch. Destroy the Pirate Zeppelin over Lake Erie and then return to base."

Silently, the pilots made a unified, graceful arc, pointing their aerial stallions towards the waters of Lake Erie, where a known small, Pirate Zeppelin was known to be operating, along with a compliment of fighters. The Folgores' last test was to completely wipe them out ...
_____

Meanwhile, The Northern tip of the Delaware Coastline

" Amber Home has reported several fighters from Shakal have arrived, as well as another allied squadron."

The message from Red Leader brought a sigh of relief to Ciro as he tailed and bagged yet another pirate aircraft. However, the news of aid once again quickly stole the privateer's smile as he looked out on the horizon and saw it: the one thing he was dreading but knew had to be true.

He didn't know how, or why, but it didn't matter.

" Amber Home, this is Eagle One: pull as high as you can and put your engines on full power! Get as far into Delaware as possible, head to Baltimore!"

The radio operator didn't have to ask why, and within seconds the Zeppelin was climbing. Unfortunately, so too was the Pirate Zeppelin that had appeared.

She was rather large, carrying a good number of guns and also flanked by yet another wing of A2 Guerrieros.

Does it ever end?! Ciro wanted to shout in his cockpit, but now the situation had taken a turn for the much, much worse: If that Zeppelin got a-hold of Ambra's, it would be a goner, especially since Ciro spied a modification on the pirate craft: a .70 caliber "Goliath" Cannon, meant for destroying other airships. A few rounds from that and Amber Home would be gone in an instant.

" New Squadron, Shakal Pilots, Red Squadron, and Green Squadron! This is Eagle One: begin to pull back towards Amber Home: if we can cover her until Shakal ground defenses open up, we might have a chance of bringing down that Zeppelin without losing another fighter!"

The plan was sound, but Ciro could not help but wonder how the government of the Shakal Empire would feel about having to open up its Anti-Air artillery and Triple-A in order to save a Nitalian Zeppelin. Still, it was the only shot they had: pilots from Shakal were also in danger, and if the motley crew defending the Diplomatic Zeppelin fell, there wasn't much else from preventing the Pirates from striking into New Jersey or Delaware.

The only hope for Ciro, The Sons of Sicily, the Bn-IVs of Shakal, and Stone's pilots was to do as Ciro Aerinaio had commanded: retreat and fight at the same time, luring the pirate Zep' into a trap ...~

Clan Wolf Fighters turn and went head on with Zeppelin firing their Min-rockets and High-Explosive Rockets at it

"my wing go for the engines and aa guns, Hack take you wing and go for the fighters"

"going for fighters"


12 Fighters start to strafe the Zeppelin with AA fire all around them and 12 other Fighters went head to head with Pirate Fighters

Skies over Delaware

~ No! Damnit, that Zep'll tear them to shreds!

Knowing full well that if the Zeppelin called all its planes back, Stone's 6 squadrons would be decimated quite quickly.

Even as the Desert Foxes began to put holes in the Zep', its .20s and .30s opened up. Ciro could tell immediately that these were experienced buccaneers: they would use the airship's AA to force the enemy fighters into the flight path of the pirate A2s, where there would be no escape from the torrential downpour of high-velocity metal around you.

Desperate, Ciro called out on his radio once again,

" Desert Fox squadrons! Fall back! Let the Shakal AA take care of the Zeppelin, God knows how many more of these things they have!"

Worried about the fate of Ambra's saviors, Ciro didn't see the Bi-plane slip in behind his tail. A short burst of gunfire quickly brought him back to his senses, and he snapped his E2G into a hard left, forcing the A2 to follow. The pirate plane couldn't keep up with the Aguila's turning radius, and soon the tables were turned. Leveling out a bit to get a better shot, Ciro loosened his grip on the stick, and gently squeezed the trigger for about a second.

The .50 cal rounds bounced all over the A2, and Ciro saw one strike the cockpit. A splash of red struck the glass, and the plane began to spiral, uncontrolled, towards the ground.

Meanwhile, Red and Green Squadron had formed back up, and were dealing with a few more of the pirates. Of the original 8 members of Ciro's former militia, only half of them remained and had immediately joined together to create one squadron. They, taking the advice of Ciro, flew cover for Amber Home as it retreated deeper into Delaware.

Unsure of what to do, Ciro knew that if the Desert Fox pilots kept up their assault, several of them would be killed. Unwilling to let that happen to a bunch of good samaritans who had showed up out of the blue, Ciro snapped his flight stick right and headed straight for the Pirate Zeppelin, intent on drawing at least some of the fire so Amber Home could finish its escape.

He happened to catch 2 pirates unawares, falling in gently on their six o'clock as they flew above their airship, and let two bursts of his Aguila's guns take them down. One fell right onto the Zeppelin's lower spine and exploded, causing the airship to give a great lurch. It took a few moments more for it to right itself out, but it moved considerably slower when it did: thankfully, Ciro had managed to substantially damage the pirates' base of operations with little effort.~

"you shut the dam hell up"said Stone over the radio as Armor-Piercing-Incendiary-Tracer, M20 rounds rip into a engine making it blow up as other rounds rip into the man maning a AA guns near by

"boys don't fall for their game "said Stone to the man with him

Stone flying under the Zep spot the hangar bay door open to let more fighters out

"got you"said Stone as he pulls his Fighter up firing into the Bay blowing up the Fighters as they drop out of it and sitting the area around the Bay on fire

Duncan kept his revolver aimed at the figure and walked up. Seeing that they were wearing a hood, he used one hand and ripped it off. Realizing what lay underneath, he put down his revolver and motioned for the others to do the same. It was a teenage girl.

"Who the hell are you?" she asked. Duncan smiled and pulled up his gun.

"You've got a mouth, and considering that we're the ones packing heat, you should answer that question. Who are you, and what are you doing here? And what happened to this town?"

The girl looked at him and spoke up roughly.

"My name's Melissa, and I lived here. I'm just trying to survive here."

"You didn't answer my question, what happened to this town?"

The girl fell silent.

"I knew it. You're lying to me. All right, c'mon." He grabbed her by the forearm and pulled her along, back to the airstrip. He was about to walk on it when he noticed something. He suddenly pulled back and motioned for the men on the ground to do the same.

"Listen, do you here the planes flying top cover anymore?"

Everyone listened and it was silent. Duncan then turned and looked up. At first they saw nothing, but then they saw a series of spotlights turn on and they realized they were coming from a massive zeppelin above.

Chargone replied in the negative as he hopped down off the veranda roof of one of the houses along the street. "all things considered, that Should mean that they realized they can't handle it, and didn't want to risk giving anything away. which means they Should be on the ground waiting for us back where we landed. hopefully under cover. and there's really no need to be so rough with the girl. not like anyones shooting at us." then he added as an after thought "yet."

Matthias rejoined them also , and the group set off back to where they left there planes. "if you plan on bringing her with us, i hope you've got a suitable way of doing so. Blue Jays aren't built with passengers in mind."

as they reached their planes, Chargone's original thoughts regarding those flying top cover were confirmed. Michals immediately came up and made his report, "sir, the airship above us bears no recognized markings. given the weight of guns, armor, and so on compared to the size of it's gas bags, though, there's no way it's using helium for lifting gas."

"which means it's using hydrogen." Chargone mused.

"which means it'll explode rather spectacularly if we can put a tracer round into it's gasbags." Matthias grinned at the thought.

"of course, there is the question of who they are and why they're here. which is more important, due process, or surprise?" the Knight looked to Duncan for an answer to this last.

Shakal Industrial Program

Today it was announced that the Shakal Empire is beginning a process of adding greater industrial capacity to the nation by constructing two smelting plants and three manufacturing plants that will employ some 2000 citizens. Alongside these factories a massive supernetwork of roads and railways is being constructed, each rail line will be double tracked for quicker shipment of goods and the roads will be vastly improved. All together these projects will employ some 5000 workers.

Skies over Delaware, Shakal Territory

~ Who the Hell does this guy think he is?!

After receiving such a sharp retort from the obvious leader of the Desert Fox squadron, Ciro decided to leave him to his fate, and left the battle around the Zeppelin to go join up with the Nitalian squadron protecting Amber Home.

As Ciro left, the pirate ship began to deploy even more fighters, leaving Ciro Aerinaio to wonder just how many they could fit in that damn airship.

Nonetheless, the Desert Foxes were in the mix now: Though their planes were better than the A2, sheer numbers were coming to the aid of the pirates, and a Zeppelin, injured or not, really made a difference.

The guns of the Zep' began to pour out even more fire, this time not looking to trap the attacking squadron but simply take them out. The sheer volume of machine gun fire and the speed at which it was being pumped out made it almost impossible to dodge. Couple that with the fact that the A2s were in position wherever there was a blind spot on the Zeppelin, and a harrowing battle was beginning to take place ...~

Flame's rip out of the side of Zeppelin as ammo,fuel and planes explosive from the attack by Stone

"it going up like fire works one 4th july get the hell out boy"said Hack as he watch the Fighter from his Squad escape from the wall of flames and wreckage of Zeppelin

Skies over Delaware, Shakal Territory

~ The Zeppelin went down hard, taking several of its own fighters in the explosion. Were it not for the quick thinking of Stone's pilots, the Zep' would've continued its assault, and, most likely, wiped out Amber Home.

The only problem was that the Zeppelin's fighters were still in the area. Ciro, who had regrouped with the Sons of Sicily, had ordered what remained of the militia squadrons to follow him back into the fray before the A2s killed Ambra's winged-angels.

" Desert Fox Squadron Leader, this is Eagle One: nice job on bagging the Zep'. Don't worry, we'll take over from here on mop-up duty. By the way you got a name, pilot?"

As Ciro traded idle banter with Stone, his eyes were intently focused on the scene before him: a flaming hulk of twisted metal, whirring propellers, blazing guns, and torn canvas falling from the white clouds as it spewed dark, thick smoke into the sky, and all around it flew black dots that were waging their own battles.

The 5 planes of the original 9 tore after the pirates, knowing full-well that payback was going to be sweeter than pure cane sugar. The Difensores let their cannon and machine guns trace their marks to the Bi-planes, blowing off wings, tails, even ripping whole fighters in half.

Ciro had a different story: he was tangled in a dogfight with 3 of the pirates, but their underpowered planes were no match for the agile Aguila. As one tried to follow him, a quick loop brought Ciro right behind his opponent. A burst of gunfire, and 1 plane raced down to meet the ground. The other 2 began to bug out, trying to flee the battle but to no avail: within mere seconds, the Royal Blue fighter was right on their six.

Two more pirate aircraft fell to their deaths soon after ...~

Duncan let go of the girl for a second and shrugged.

"This is just as much as a surprise to me as it is to you. But I'm pretty sure I know how I can figure out who it is up there."

With that Duncan grabbed the girl who was starting to creep off and sat her down.

"I get the feeling you know who's in that zeppelin up there. Tell me."

The girl said nothing. Duncan looked up and swore.

"Listen, I can't take off with that thing in the air. If you want to get out of here you'll have to tell me who's up there."

The girl looked up at him and then spoke reluctantly. "Franco Fredirico. He was the one who did this to the town. He was employing cheap labor for something, but then people started asking questions and he had his pirates destroy the town. I know this because my Franco is my father. One of his pirates tried to take advantage of me, but I escaped down to here."

Suddenly, several planes flew out of the zeppelin. Duncan saw they were carrying rockets and were headed for the planes on the ground.

"Get into your planes, they're going to strafe us!"

-----------------------

Project Charlemagne was going well. The President was well aware that by hiring out some of the design to Krupp from Germany that he was taken a risk and that Blackwold Enterprises would get furious, but the results would speak for themselves. The special rail lines had already been set, and it wouldn't be too long now before the train itself was. As for Charlemagne itself, that was also going well. The main barrel had just been delivered, and he had reports that the first rounds were being shipped in.

This would be fun.

" Desert Fox Squadron Leader, this is Eagle One: nice job on bagging the Zep'. Don't worry, we'll take over from here on mop-up duty. By the way you got a name, pilot?"

"Dog one to who ever you are ,you wont get Baker one his Radio shot and we do not use our radios for chatting"said Dog one

Firing Zone, Seven Minutes Later

The burning hulk of the enemy zeppelin sunk beneath the waves, steam coming up as the hot metals touched the cold water. Only two men were lost, and now the MRLS were finally ready.

"MRLS are in range," said the Controller. "All planes go to an altitude above 3,000 feet."

"Roger that," said Sherman, pulling up his plane to a holding pattern around the Flotilla. The MRLS Zep's had stopped and had their sights at the small patch of buildings and lights on the eastern tip of the island 12 miles away.

"First salvo is primed, Commander Pershing." came the voice of an artillery commander.

Pershing's voice came back in a stern tone. "You have the authority to fire on Alpha-five Sigma-niner, Major."

"Roger, that, Commander. Firing first salvo."

From Sherman's position above the Flotilla, he saw numerous flashes on the MRLS followed by long flaming streaks hurtling towards the point. A murmur of an air raid siren could barely be heard, but it was cut out about a minute later by the dull thumps of the rockets exploding on the town. The one-hundred and eighty 3.5" HE UGL's of the first salvo saturated the area, with the yellow light of the explosions forming little orbs on each thud. After one minute it was over and Persing's voice came over Comm again.

"Load second salvo, Major. And I want a Darter over that town ASAP."

About three minutes after the order came, two skinny sleek aircraft dropped out of the MRLS Zeppelins and sped out towards the town. Darters were armed only with one 7.62mm gun, but they could travel faster and than any other plane the ISA had encountered and were used mostly for recon flights. The lead Darter came in on the radio a few minutes later.

"Command, this is Walleye 1 reporting in. I am confirming the destruction of Port Eastwood. Confirmation photographs will be taken shortly."

"Roger that, Walleye 1, proceed with photographing the target."

The two Darters flew over the town for 15 minutes snapping pictures and some video footage of the burning town and its defenses, then flew back to the MRLS. The Flotilla didn't bother to land on the island and merely turned aound and headed back for their base in Milwaukee.

War Room, Capital, St. Paul

The President and some High ranking Military officials sat in comfy chairs watching the slide and video show compiled of the raid. Pictures showed burning cars in cratered streets, half-sunk boats in the small harbor, buildings blown apart and a firestorm raging in the small formerly Pirate-Controlled town. Also, to the delight of the commanders, a number of P40's sat either burning or blown to smithereens on the runway with all takeoff and landing facilities totally destroyed, efficiently ending the threat against the tankers.

Chargone swore as he dashed for his plane, yelling orders to the others. he thanked God, however, that he'd left Williams with the planes. they were all ready to go. as he slammed the cockpit hatch shut, he flicked the radio and started calling checks.

"wing, Knight. combat checks and scramble."

a chorus of positive responses, and the planes, two at a time, launched into the air.

"by threes. those rockets are gonna weigh them down. careful of the airship, don't attack it yet. we'll take the fighters out, then we'll see how it goes."

Chargone smiled as Cunningham and Williams dropped into place on either side and just behind him. the other two took up similar positions relative to Duncan's plane

"whatever happens, there's a lot of credit to be had in this one. staying alive to collect on it is a priority.

Mister Dimetrios, have you anything else to tell us before we do this?"

A tall, well-muscled man in the regalia of a Confederate Air Force Commander sat at a desk in a Zeppelin, smiling as he looked upon a newspaper headline:
Wyoming Confederation Halts All Export Deals, Pending Re-Negotiation!
'Excellent... soon, our great nation's resources will be a great asset, and will allow us to gain riches beyond the wildest dreams of many...' he thought, before standing up and walking out onto the bridge. He strode over to the conn, and said in a quiet, commanding voice, 'Set our course for Bighorn Canyon. It is time we found the remnants of the pirate bands that once ran rampant here in Wyoming, and finished them off.'

'Yes sir, at once, sir!' came the snappy reply, and the conn officer immediately began turning the Zeppelin to the correct heading. Meanwhile, the Commander, stepping up to the observation platform in the bridge, sat in the command chair, and observed the clouds.

Wyoming Confederation Halts All Export Deals, Pending Re-Negotiations!

Earlier today, officials from the Confederate Council confirmed that, as of 0000 hours tomorrow, all export deals with the nation-states of the continent are to be cancelled, pending full re-negotiations. These exports include the sizeable deposits of coal, natural gas, oil & the world's largest confirmed deposit of Trona, used in glass manufacture.

The Council Officials did not state the reasonings for these shocking declarations, but instead, have announced that new coal, natural gas, oil & trona mines are to be opened immediately, to increase the already large stockpiles of these resources.


Confederate Air Force Declares Crackdown On Piracy

In a rare press release, Commander Aramius Hawk, the commanding officer of the Confederate Air Force and leader of Task Force Reaper, has ordered a nation-wide crackdown on piracy, and has called for the support of all the counties; in particular, Big Horn County, due to the use of Bighorn Canyon as an express route for pirate groups entering the Confederation.

However, he did make one cryptic comment during his release: 'The piracy problem of Wyoming will be solved... one way or another...' Despite our best minds working on this comment, no clues have presented themselves.

Duncan took the girl into his cockpit with him, as it was rather large for storage on long flights. There were two seats, she sat in back. Duncan took off paired with one of the Angermanland planes. Hearing the question over the radio Duncan sighed and responded,

"I told you I know nothing about this, over."


With that the planes engaged the pirates. The zeppelin, though visibly armed, did not attack the fighters, instead allowing its own aircraft to do the dirty work. The pirates flew modified Peashooters, while slightly outdated, their were a lot of them.

Duncan soared towards the nearest one and opened fire. Tracers and live ammunition soared by in front and behind him. He got a lucky shot and one of the pirates twisted and spiraled downwards towards the ruined town below.

"One down, a hell of a lot more to go!"

11 out of 26 fighters of Clan Wolf form back up then climbed and vanish into the clouds leaving the area of Battle for home some with smoke pouring out from their engines

"Dog one what left of us are returning to base command"said Hack

#right'o Dog one good job#

Southern News Radio
KKK Barred Terrorist organization, Surrender or Die

Nelson Hicks, President of the Federal Soviet Council of the The Democratic People's Republic of Southern America, has approved a resolution making the Ku Klux Klan (KKK) a terrorist organization saying that “The Ku Klux Klan, attacking the foundations of government in the Southern States has caused irreparable harm to all citizens of the the Southern States whether they be Negro, European, Oriental, or otherwise.” the resolution also added that “All current members of the Ku Klux Klan must surrender and be registered with the government of the Southern States within one month of the passing of this resolution. After the one month grace period, all people found to be members of the KKK are charged with sedition and the penalry of this is death.”

Several protests in Birmingham erupted. Racists attacked the police and other members of the Communist Party, several Negroes in the attacked group. Police fired three shots into the riot. It took military units to quell the violence. Many of the rioters were unarmed, however several threw rocks at the military troops. 15 people died, including 6 members of the Communist Party and 3 policemen. 20 people were arrested.

using a variation of the claw tactic that worked for them so well, Chargone's small group of planes caused havoc in the pirate fighters. the outer two planes flew spirals around Chargone's course, slightly behind him and far enough out to allow him to maneuver enough to make targeting him hard, but close enough in that a pirate plane couldn't move completely out of his line of fire without suffering devastating machine gun fire. five pirate planes later, they were out the other side of the wave, turning around, and coming back. the formation wouldn't work so well in an uncontrolled dog-fight, then they'd fall back on ... other tactics.

Chargone grinned as another enemy plane fell burning to the ground, then grimaced as machine gun fire struck sparks off his wing. further out, or heavier weapons might have done some damage, but near the wing base and over the cockpit (though not, unfortunately, the canopy, due to the need to be able to see) the Lancaster Blue Jays had thin steel plating. the seat backs were also armored.

flying through the enemy planes again, another four falling as burning wreckage to the ground, his group formed up in a more typical wedge. the enemy had broken formation and was now flying in wing-pairs in an attempt to nullify the advantage the Blue Jay's had in an organized fight. now the dogfighting would begin in earnest.

Skies over Delaware, Shakal Territory

~ As quick as the Desert Foxes had arrived, they were gone. Ciro was more than puzzled by their appearance, and their sudden escape left the pilot even more in wonder of just who they were.

Crazy bastards ... Wouldn't doubt it if they never made it back to a base, what with all the fuel they spent ...

The pirate threat had been completely wiped out, leaving the defense forces of Amber Home to limp on towards Baltimore, which was reached without further hinderances ...
_____

Baltimore, Shakal

Careful to not just fly right into the city, lest the inhabitants think they were under attack, Amber Home sat right on the boundaries, hailing the Air Port Authorities for permission to land, refuel, and then begin the further trip to Washington D.C. to meet with the Empress of Shakal, whom was Ambra's goal for the entire voyage.

" Attention! Attention Aerial Port Authority of Baltimore: This is the Diplomatic Zeppelin Amber Home of the Atlantic Republic of Nueve Italia. We request to land, refuel our fighter escort, and make preparations for a continued voyage across Shakal territory. Please respond."
_____

Lake Erie, within Nitalian Borders ...

" Thunder Lead, this is Lightning Lead."

" Go ahead Lightning."

" Enemy Zeppelin spotted: I'm counting ... eleven, thirteen escorts."

" Make?"

" Appears to be modified Aeh-four Furias. I'm seeing a lack of the Goliath."

" Confirmed. Thunder Squadron: Attack pattern Bravo. Entering radio silence."

The F7A prototype fighters had reached their target just as the sun was beginning to leave a shadow across the lake, leaving the black-and-gray painted planes almost invisible to their targets.

Four of the 8 fighters immediately broke from formation, climbed high, and then levelled off when they were well up into the clouds. The other 4, Lightning Squadron, continued their low approach to the Pirate Zeppelin. So far, the group had gone undetected.

By now, Thunder Squadron had flown past the Zeppelin by a little bit, and had turned around rather sharply to get into position to dive-bomb the enemy airship.

Within seconds, fire was ripping across the Pirate Flagship: it's spine snapped, and the whole vehicle looked like it was dropped by God's hand right into the lake where the inferno still raged.

" This is Thunder Squadron: Target confirmed destroyed by torpedo attack, proceeding to mop up fighter cover."

" Roger Thunder, Lightning moving to assist."

8 fighters took on what looked to be a swarm of angry hornets, all the more enraged to see their nest crushed by a seemingly invisible assailant. A few more seconds saw bright flashes across the darkened sky, followed by red and orange trails crashing down into the black water.

" What the Hell?!"

" I can't see 'em! I can't see!"

The pirates fought desperately against Aldo Franco's newest creation, but to no avail. Even more A4 Furias fell as the advanced fighters of Thunder and Lightning Squadron tore through their opponents faster than an emaciated lion dove into a fresh kill.

After several more minutes, the 8 black fighters turned away from the Hellish scene they had left behind, back in the direction of Buffalo.

" Tower, this is Lightning Lead: Operation confirmed success, returning now, over."

The Folgore had arrived, and it had done so with a bang ...~

Baltimore, Shakal

Careful to not just fly right into the city, lest the inhabitants think they were under attack, Amber Home sat right on the boundaries, hailing the Air Port Authorities for permission to land, refuel, and then begin the further trip to Washington D.C. to meet with the Empress of Shakal, whom was Ambra's goal for the entire voyage.

" Attention! Attention Aerial Port Authority of Baltimore: This is the Diplomatic Zeppelin Amber Home of the Atlantic Republic of Nueve Italia. We request to land, refuel our fighter escort, and make preparations for a continued voyage across Shakal territory. Please respond."


"Amber Home, You have permission for passage. Have a safe journey from here on." Flight Command said through the mic.

Fargo Times

Mysterious Black Budget Found!

INDE After the annual budget was released to the public, one savvy Fargo Times reader managed to find something hidden in the paper. "You see, its part of my condition, adding up and subtracting things like that," the reader (who shall remain anonymous) said, "so I ended up adding up the entire budget, and then subtracting it from the total that was released with the budget. I had expected to get zero, but I got anything but." Instead, the reader found there to be 1.5 Billion dollars unaccounted for.



At this point, the man reading the newspaper threw it off his desk. "They are on to us. Now that they know we exist, how long will it take them to find out what we're doing?"

"Don't worry about it, Art. They're probably going to have a press conference, deny our existence, and then blame the unaccounted money on a typographical error. Then everything will be back to as it was before this."

Arthur shook his head. He picked up the schematics that lay before him, "We were almost complete. Just a few more months..."

"We may as well hope for the best."

Somewhere in Canada

The winds swept across the airfield. Several hangers, buildings, and outlying towers and bunkers comprised The Iron Falcon's home base. They were a small but rapidly growing band of air pirates who made their living raiding the airways and traderoutes of the sky and other means of travel. They built up a reputation over the past few years as a ruthless pirate group, bent on controlling everything they touched and becoming rich. The flew Focker-Hellhounds for the most part, painted dull colors atop and bluer colors on the bottom to help disguise them in the air. They swooped down from the sun, destroying escorts and using other aircraft to board the airships and take what they could. Ridges of pine lay off on the horizon as a tall man with a trimmed beard and a cap walk through the grass outside the communications tower. He wore a leather long coat which left open revealing a gunbelt with a luger in the holster. The man struck some timber and lit a black pipe which he brought to his lips and breathed in the fine cherry tobbacco flavor and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

A car pulled up and slowed to a halt with two occupants, the driver, a random member of the Iron Falcons and another, more familiar face. The driver was young, too young to see action in the sky but eager to serve nonetheless.
"Sir!" the boy uttered "Herr Strauss is here to see you" he said exhausted. The captain nodded and dismissed the boy. Strauss was in his late forties, shorter and with a blad head, wearing a monacle on his left eye and carried his weight on a cane.
"von Krueger" Strauss began as he hobbled forward. "It is good to see you. I trust the last mission was a success?"
"Indeed, Wilhelm. My men retrieved what you seek and it awaits in Hanger A for transport" Krueger stretched out a hand, pointing to the most distant hanger.
"Excellent!" Strauss clapped his hands together and quickly composed himself.
"What else do you ask for?" Krueger demanded, sensing Strauss came for something more than the one item.
"There is another item I request for the project." Strauss replied, smiling. "It is an important component which two days ago, as our sources claim, was completed and is awaiting transport to an unknown destination."
"Where? What nation?" Krueger asked.
"Nueve Italia" Strauss answered "We have a good idea about the route and request that you seize this item and bring it to us. You will be paid well, as usual."
"Their air force is a formidable opponent. The risk will be great and the reward, hopefully with outweigh the cost" Krueger replied as he turned away and let out another plume of smoke.

Duncan twisted and went after two of the pirates. They were able to dodge him, but were taken out seconds later by the two Angermanland Blue Jays in formation with him. Tactics like this ensued and pretty soon the pirates had lost their initial strength and were falling behind rapidly. Some of them had scored a few lucky shots on his plane, but there was no lasting damage. They were too good.

"All right, I think we should radio over a request for a surrender."

One of the Angermanland pilots sent over a surrender request. At first there was silence and then there was a deafening explosion as the zeppelin opened up with its Flak Cannons. The planes broke formation and soared apart to avoid being hit.

Duncan talked rapidly over the radio, trying to be heard through the crack of Flak fire.

"Listen! LISTEN! Only take out the guns! I repeat, only take out the guns! We need to keep the zep in one piece to find the Franco!"

Duncan didn't wait for a reply and immediately started an attack run. His bullets wouldn't be of much use, but he could at least grab some attention while the Blue Jays carrying torpedoes took aim.