White and blue, hues of yellow and gray.
An endless embrace of freedom and grace.
It beckons me, to come into her arms.
The sky.
Prologue
France. Verdun. An iconic place, and yet an ironic place. The skies of Verdun pay witness once more to an aerial battle. Unlike the battles of before however, neither the town nor beautiful countryside was turned into a forsaken landscape of bloodied and desolate earth. And the only sounds ringing in the air were the roar of the propeller engines and gunfire exchanged by the combatants; unlike how it was once before.
Two warplanes; canard delta wing in design, raced above the river in the clouds as they evaded the fire from two other warplanes.
“This is Sparrow! We’ve engaged two Cloud Runners! I repeat! Two Cloud Runners!” The pilot of the left plane declared. He suddenly heard a scream in his radio. “Damn! Raccoon’s hit! I repeat, Raccoon is down! His R-wing’s crashing into the river!” Looking behind him, the pilot saw the two pursuers lining up behind.
Damn it! Quickly slamming down the throttle and then pulling the joystick back hard, he tried to quickly get himself into a loop. As his propeller plane’s engine roared, he could see the tracers of the fire of one of the Cloud Runners firing past his cockpit. His worst fear was realized when he heard the impact of metal on his wings.
Damn it! Even so, he managed to get his plane into a loop. As he did, he managed to get a look at the planes through the top of his cockpit. His beak opened up as he saw the markings on one of the fighters. “It’s the Wolf! Oh God! IT’S THE WOLF!!”
The pilot of the R-wing was referring to the Cloud Runner that had nose and wing markings of a feral snarling wolf. The pilot of this fighter looked up to see his target. Quickly, he tilted his plane to the left side and pulled a tight 360 turn, getting himself in line with his target as it comes out of the loop. Then, with the opportunity, he opened fired. His four gun ports on his wings blazed to life as they ripped through the fighter. Once the plane exploded, the pilot spoke up, in a slightly old American west accent. “This is Wolf. Confirmed kill.” He soon heard a reply from his wing mate.
“This is Warhog. Looks like someone’s treating us to beer tonight, eh Diego?”
The pilot Diego took off his oxygen mask and smiled. He then replied, smirking. “Might as well. Wonder when HE will show up in the same skies.” He and his wingman raised their altitude as they flew away from the battlefield.
“You’re still looking for the day when you challenge their ace?”
“It’s natural. Right now, they call me our ace. Come now, last one to base buys the first round.” Quickly, Diego punched the throttle; a smile forming on his gray wolf muzzle.
“Hey O’Donnell! You cheat! Wait up!”
The clouds covering the noontime skies over Verdun gave way to the first downed aircraft. It screamed out as it made its rapid descent into the river Meuse. As the plane neared the river, the roar of its engines deafened the skies, like the cries of agony of a once mighty beast finally succumbing to its wounds. Spectators watched the plane go down into the river. The closest, a little girl and her father, watched as the plane splashed down. The girl, a civet cat, looked at her father.
“That was a Cornelian fighter, right daddy?”
Her father, a lynx, looked at her, smoking from a pipe. “Yes, it was.”
A wide grin came over her face as she gleamed in joy. “Yay! Now Angie has to come to our house and play!”
Her dad placed his hand on her head, ruffling the hair and ears of his daughter. “Now now sweetie. You shouldn’t be making bets like that.”
“But didn’t you wager with Uncle Stuart that it would be a win for Venom today?”
The man smiled as he picked her daughter up. “Which is exactly why we’re going to the candy store right now.”
“Yay!” The little girl wagged her tail behind her, which was poking out of the tail hole behind her pink dress. As the two walked away, the second fighter came crashing down behind them, creating a large splash. This once again made her laugh in joy. “Venom won!”
Paris, France. In a small yet refined coffee shop, a male badger in what could be called a statesman’s attire was sipping his coffee, seated on one of the comfy chairs dotted around the shop. He was reading a textbook when the TV that was mounted on the corner in front of him showed the news. He looked up at the TV monitor as the black and white broadcast played.
“In the latest news of the warfront, Venom once again scored a victory over Cornelia as they waged a battle over the Verdun. Venom has not suffered any losses in contrast to Cornelia’s loss of ten fighters, including two aces. This victory is credited, according to Venom, to their ace squadron Wolf Squadron which was the sole participants in this engagement. Cornelia has not released any comments in respect to the recent engagement. This last skirmish now puts the Cornelian losing streak of four skirmishes, with the loss of forty-six fighters and seven aces. This has been a West European News broadcast.”
The badger looked away from the TV as it turned to show an ad for an automobile. He resumed his reading of his textbook as an abyssinian waked towards him in a typical university student’s garb.
“Hello Professor Artemis.” The feline boy said as he sat down in front of him.
“Ah, young Lawson. I was wondering if my watch had decided to be slower than usual.”
The cat bowed his head. “My apologies professor. The clock at the dorm had stopped, and I when I realized it, I rushed here as fast as I could, sir.”
“Ah yes.” The badger chuckled as he sipped his coffee. “By the way, Venom had won again.”
“They have?”
“Yes, yes. So today, I’ll treat you to coffee, as promised. A latte, perhaps?”
“Are you sure about this professor? This is the fourth time you would be giving me a free taste of a learned man’s brew.”
“That is fine, young Lawson. Mark my words; in the coming days, you may be the one who would have to treat me, when Cornelia wins.”
“Yes, as we have agreed, kind sir.” The cat had made a gesture to the waitress and was placing his order with her as the badger skimmed the textbook again. When the cat was done, the badger looked at him. He had been assisting the lad who had decided to make an essay on the matter at had, something that stroke his fancy ever since the lad walked into his office and asked.
“So, are you ready to learn more about this unnatural state of the world?”
“Yes, sir.”
“A good passage is in this book, Immanuel Kant’s ‘Perpetual Peace’. On page four, there is something that satires it so eloquently.”
“How so?” The badger turned the book around for his pupil to see.
“Read.”
The abyssinian looked at the book and started reading. “…for the barbarian, war is the rule; peace the exception. His gods, like those of Greece, are war-like gods; his spirit, at death, flees to some Valhalla. For him life is one long battle; his arms go with him even to the grave. Food and mean of existence he seeks through plunder and violence.” He looked at his mentor. “What is this all leading to?”
“You don’t realize it? Next page. The war is established, so that ‘if there needs must be war, it may not yet be against all men, nor yet without some helps’.”
“So?”
“War is the natural state of man, and not peace. So let me ask you now…why do we enjoy peace?”
The lad pondered on a bit as the waitress served his latte. He then looked at his coffee mug, and then at the professor. “Sir…is it because…we have an artificial war that satiates the primal need of war?”
“You catch on quickly. That is exactly the reason why. We can appreciate and adhere to this unnatural state of peace because we have created for ourselves war…a war that reminds us constantly why we must maintain the state of the world, which is peace.”
“But sir, isn’t it in the past, we have had peace, without this artificial war?”
“Yes, yes, a good question young Lawson. If you continue reading the book, you would realize that the peace we enjoyed then was an uneasy and transient peace. The constant threat of war loomed over man as men quickly grew wary of fellow, and the primal desire fueling the embers of hostilities. The times when peace had been established, it was only temporary as the primal desires arose in the people once again. The fall of Rome, the fall of the Mongolians, the rise and fall of the monarchies of yore. ”
“So you mean to say, that in order for us to have a permanent peace…we need to have a controlled war that sustains the desire and need of peace?”
“And that is what we have right now, dear Lawson. That is what we have right now.”
Berlin, Germany. Situated in the city is the Cornelian Industries Headquarters, the company eternally at war. Inside the walls, the logistics and planning of the war front are done, not to mention running the company for profit.
In the War Administration, the secretary shook his head.
Another loss. It seems I’ll have to pressure the R&D department more, not to mention of aviation academy. The sheep massaged her scalp, golden hair contrasting the white dow that she had left on her neck and wrists. The calloused fingertips did not help her relieve her stress, but it was the psychological effect that mattered. As she set aside the newspaper she was reading, a knock was heard on her door. “Come in.”
The door opened, revealing a tiger. As quickly as he opened the door, he entered the room. The pocketwatch dangling on his right pocket told her how long she has been working. The time had read 5:45…which told her exactly what the man was here for. “Madam Secretary, our President has called for a conference at 6:00.”
“I see. I’ll be at his office prior.” As the tiger left, she shook her head. Without a doubt, she knew what was going to happen.
I am not going to like this. She fixed up the papers on her desk, and readied her briefcase. The papers on her desk were pilot assignments to each base. One name was circled in particular: Alex McCloud.
