NationStates Jolt Archive


Red Ace's First Flight (WW1 Tech Story)

Soviet Steam
07-03-2009, 10:22
The wooden boards of the wall were barely hanging tight, weathered by the decades that have passed since it was one of the buildings of an aerodrome for the People's Airfleet, the closest one to the Badlands, a no man's land which once meant nearly certain death for those who dared to fly in its skies above their trenches and scorched earth, which infamous name has been etched in the history of the Soviets. The small building had files and desks filled with annotations, registers of flight and reports, while its wooden windows let the outside appear: a large paved field, and beyond the marshy and plain lands of southern Soviet Steam, notorious for how they would become during the muddy seasons. Inside the building, Olaf Tarnachev sat next to the commander of the air base, as he did his best to swallow the anxiety. He has worked hard and the time was coming for him to prove himself.

"Very well, comrade Olaf," the commander said, taking a form from his desk, "as I know you are completely aware of the responsibility piloting a prototype for one of the greatest inventions of our revolutionary geniuses convey, I hereby order you to perform your first reconaissance mission for the 79th Red Cavaliers."

The commander then interrupted his words as he began to fill the form. The 79th Red Cavaliers is the first squadron formed for testing the still experimental heavy-than-air aircrafts that have been developed after the invention of the first of them, the first airplane of history, two years ago, which was a clumsy quadriplane powered by a high-efficiency steam engine, a difficult start for a concept which may eventually change human transportation and warfare, forever. After a few minutes of wait, which Olaf spent quietly, the commander continued:

"Your recon plane have a camera attached which will allow you to take survey photos of the nearby badlands. We have gathered intelligence that the Yagans may be mobilizing their forces there, and we must know the location of their forward barracks if such information is true. Likewise, as you may have heard, the Theocracy of Perun is currently attempting to break against the trenches of Novaya Russia to the far west of our continent, and with my experience, I can say that such wouldn't be unrelated attacks. We may be next to another Great Patriotic War like that we once fought as our people arrived at this new world, thus your mission is not another recon. I hope you realize the importance of gathering precise and reliable information. So stay alert while Ilyushin pilots the plane."

"I understand, comrade. I will not fail at my duty to the people!" Olaf answered back demonstration an excess of assuredness that perhaps could be a facade to inner fears. The young airman's anxiety was growing, for there something never tried before would happen. It would be the first military use of a heavier-than-air aircraft in the history of Pangaea, and the chances of a problem happening in it weren't small, regardless of how many times the prototype was tested. And thus, Olaf saluted Ilyushin, who in his usual silence, simply motioned for him to follow as both walked towards the plain compacted dirt airfield, heading towards their goal.

Man and machine were face to face, a bird of steel with two parallel wings which spanned as much as a line of five men laid down, and as long as a line six men laid down, with two large wheels touching the ground, and a ladder already placed next to each of its seats. Both pilot and co-pilot then climbed, while Olaf also prepared his camera. The plane wasn't particularly comfortable, but as a man of the people, he couldn't bother at all, and thus, two aides moved the ladders away from the plane, while another stood next to its front, and with a gloved hand pushed its propeller down.

The blades simply began to twist slowly, while Ilyushin was pulling a lever up on the panel across his seat, and soon the engines roared in activity, as the steam began to slowly leave a pair of exhausts built close to its tail, and the blades began to gain momentum, their flapping making a loud noise. Olaf then putted his aviator helmet, and with his camera ready, he began to observe attentiously how the pilot was controlling the recon plane prototype.

Ilyushin pulled a control stick up while he moved a hand lever up, and it began to accelerate, no longer it was possible to feel the solid touch of ground and its bumps, as the uncomfortable take off would soon finish, and for the first time, Olaf was to experiment the speed and mobility of such invention, the air blowing over his face and the realization of how everything became distant on the surface, an impressive experience he could soon get acquainted with, for somehow he felt driven to fly, like if such invention was made for what he truly was gifted to do for the revolution. The aerodrome was now as large as an anthill, and looking down, he suddenly held himself tightly as the biplane began to slightly dive, following the commands of its pilot, until it finally reached an altitude where a man could be spotted down the land through the naked eyes, something important for reconaissance missions. A long travel through the west would then occur, for piloting was as well an exercise of patience. With both concentrated in happenings and thoughts, they couldn't spend time talking, and time soon passed fast in their perceptions, although Olaf could perceive clearly everything despite how the biplane flew much faster than any airship he ever crewed..

Then Olaf finally heard the voice of the man piloting such marvel, as he appointed to him the sudden shift of scenery he noticed. No longer the green, pine tree hills and grasslands were visible, but instead a scorched earth of brown and grey drabs which stretched with the horizon, with nearly insignificant slits sometimes dividing it, the trenches through which the People's Republic held the threats of the Badlands at bay, at the expense of the sacrifice of many. A hazy smog partially covered the sunlight, the result of the machines employed for war in such places, and occasionally white dots could be seem bleaching the land, the remains of those who once were gone in the deathbed of the trenches, left to be eaten by beasts and rot, making the lasting touch to a bleak, desolate landscape where skirmishes have been waged for decades, although it has been a long time since a full-fledged war happened in such hell.

"Comrade Olaf, prepare your camera! I will fly through the reported sightings to see if we can get a visual confirmation. Keep your eyes open."

Nodding, Olaf observed the no man's land below, perhaps more frightening for its complete absence of life as far as the eyes could see than for the wars than once were waged in such place. Minutes passed and the uniformity of the sighting maintained, until, looking at the far southwest of the horizon, Olaf spotted distant, ordered lines and rows grey dots changing the otherwise brown aspect of the landscape.

"Ilyushin! I am almost sure spotted the enemy army at our nine!" Olaf then reported, as immediately the pilot stepped on one of the pedals, turning slowly the biplane towards such direction, and thus it began to head at what could only be the enemy. As they approached, soon it was becoming clearer such were rows of riflemen, artillery and cavalry marching. Immediately Olaf began to click his camera, taking shots of the spotted invasion force, while the pilot tried to maintain his concentration over piloting the plane.

Olaf shuddered and became paralyzed, no longer taking the clicks of his photograph, as he observed the unfolding moves of the Yagan Army. He knew what was at stake at such moment, and immediately shouted:

"They have anti-aircraft artillery comrade! We must turn back!"

The plane then banked left and began to turn. Holding tightly Olaf observed as the first shots were fired, leaving trails of explosives behind them while they attempted to escape. Until a cracking shake came, nearly throwing him off the plane. He struggled to keep his balance as the engine began to falter, realizing how helpless he was now. Ilyushin was nearly yanking out the control stick as he pulled it up, while cautiously compensating for the parts of the wing which were taken off by the fire and staring ahead for a rough, forced landing.

The crash was tough, and Olaf felt as his jaw impacted with the wooden frame of the plane, a pain ameliorated by other sensations of fear, despair and realization that perhaps the first recon flight would have been a disaster. The dried, barren land was now everything they had. Olaf quickly came to his senses and got down from the severely damage biplane, followed by Ilyushin. It was sheer luck the airplane did not explode, although the situation was anything but fortunate. At best, they were little more than a mile away from the marching enemy forces, while their crash smoke would be a perfect signal for artillery strikes that could come off at any time.

They had to seek a refuge amidst the Badlands, which once again would host another Great War in the history of Pangaea. The Kingdom of Yaga was bent on conquest, and once again the defenders of the working class would have to fight. Only this time, there was almost no technological disparity between them and their enemies.

(OOC: I'm transitioning Soviet Steam from fantasy/PT to nearly entirely realistic World War 1 Past-tech with a steampunk theme, and I am quite aware of how PT is mostly "dead". Thus I will be writing some relatively short stories in the hopes of drawing interest to the potentialities of PT. Particularly to the fact air battles will be more enjoyable than "I launch x missiles, post losses" coupled with the fact battleships truly ruled the seas by then. This one will be the introduction to a new character concept, in the epoch magic still existed in Pangaea(its continent), but was steadily dying.)