CHAPTER 29

“Tactical Arts And Crafts: Grunt Edition”

     

September 1st, 2040: Somewhere in The Kerei Mountains, Between The Greater North and The Ruppriecht Kingdom

 

Cruising at just under 8,000 ft, two Sky Wardens, Bush and Caveman, armed with one GAU-19 and two AGM-114 Hellfire racks each (eight missiles each) gently weaved between the snowy mountain ranges around them. Far below, the valley was a lush green boreal forest. 

“Passing waypoint Lima. No activity on the radar yet, Bush.” Behind Bush, his co-pilot, Chappy, looked around to see Caveman was just behind them. “Anything interesting on your end Disco?”

“Other than the fact that I think this is a waste of time? Nothing.” 

“Ah c'mon Disco, lighten up a little!” With an enthusiastic tone, Caveman rolled the aircraft slightly left. “It’s not like we get to see views like this every day.”  

“Fair enough, though this place just reminds me of the Rocky Mountains.” Taking a map from a side pocket, Disco slid his right index finger across their route through the mountain range. “Caveman, Bush, we’re three waypoints out until we reach the anomaly.”

“Roger Disco, keep those eyes on that radar.” Recalling their mission briefing when all four were shown various images from satellites, each one showing the same area but with a sizable chunk of the valley seeming to shift with each new image. 

“Ah shit, Caveman, my overlay is glitching out on me. Chappy, Anything on your end?” Now greatly concerned, Disco switched one of his screens to a remote camera outside his aircraft. Scanning the skies, the only other flying object was the second Sky Warden. 

“Roger Disco, switching to camera.”  

“~And~ my compass just started freaking out.” Watching as it spun wildly, Caveman rocked in his seat realizing how bizarre that was. “Wait, isn’t magic supposed to interfere with just radar?”

“Roger Caveman. Hit the deck (1).”

 

At practically the same time, both Sky Wardens dived toward the valley below. Pulling up only when a few hundred feet from the tree tops. With Chappy and Disco using their remote cameras they continued to scan their surroundings. Only for Chappy to snap his camera forward.  

“Woah! Bearing zero-two-two, massive red line just a shoutout from behind that mountain!” In the distance, everyone looked to see a near-solid stream of red dots being sprayed ahead. 

“Those are tracers. Puzzle Palace (2) didn’t say crap about our own being here! Disco, what's on frequency?” Caveman asked.

“Uhh--nothing. All standard channels are clear.”

“That’s because it’s not us, genius. Time to firewall (3) Caveman.” Punching the throttle all the way, Bush and Chappy felt their aircraft give a sudden burst of power. “Caveman, move to my eight-o-clock, gain 2000 ft and provide cover.” 

“Wilco (4), executing maneuver.” 

 

With the two Sky Wardens moving into a defensive posture and coming ever closer to the tracer fire, they made a wide turn around the mountain and were met with a sight they never expected. A few miles out from them four dark-colored wyverns were circling around an airship. As the Sky Wardens closed the distance more scattered tracer fire filled the air around the airship as one wyvern doing a close swipe of the airship was nailed with multiple rounds.

“Weapons hot Bush?” Caveman questioned. “Rather this airship takes more of the punishment than us.” 

“Roger. Weapons hot, fangs out (5)!” Releasing the safety from his gatling gun Bush lined up on one of the wyverns furthest from the airship. “You’ve got a tone, Chappy?”

“Solid tone Bush!”

“Bush, fox two!” Firing a single hellfire, it raced towards the wyvern. Though by now the noise from their propeller engines had reached the once one on four dogfight it did not leave nearly enough time to react and the hellfire slammed into the wyvern center mass. However, as the warhead was a High-Explosive-Anti-Tank Shaped Charge, the molten copper penetrated all the way through like a knife through already half-melted butter, leaving the wyvern to flap its wings a few times more before gravity overcame its strength and it dropped to the valley below. 

 

There was a brief pause over the battlefield as it seemed everyone tried to understand what had just happened. Only for the radio to go from dead silent, to a staticy transmission.

“And here I thought we were as lost as a fart in a fan factory!” A clear, Southern American accent cheered over the radio. In response, Chappy opened up his radio.

“Sky Warden Chappy to unknown brother in arms. Let’s deal with these ancient reptiles before we go celebrating anything, how copy?” 

“Loud and clear Chappy, give’em hell!” 

“Good Tone Caveman!” Disco cleared.

“Roger. Caveman, fox two!” Letting lose a hellfire of their own it slammed into the second wyvern which at this point was flying towards the Sky Wardens. Nailing a perfect headshot, the wyvern's body quickly tumbled toward the ground. 

“Enemy fire, two o'clock Bush!” Chappy alerted Bush who snapped his head over to see a fireball flying towards them. Quickly pulling up on the yoke, Bush performed a tight barrel roll before turning in on the third wyvern.

“Good tone!” Chappy declared.

“Affirm. Bush, fox two!” Releasing his second hellfire, it detonated center mass on the wyvern's chest, sending it roaring into the valley. Though the victory was short-lived as Bush glanced around the front of his Sky Warden and realized a very big problem.

“Shit, anyone got eyes on the fourth bandit?” 

“Bush, break, break! It’s above you!” Caveman shouted.

 

Feeling his heart sink into his seat and practically out his rear, Bush instinctively slammed his left index finger into the button that released their drop tanks and felt the aircraft become lighter. With both hands, he yanked back on the yoke and pulled hard right. 

“Holy fuck!” Hearing Chappy yelp a few octaves above his normal voice, Bush glanced in his rear-facing mirror to see the fourth wyvern had only just missed with its talons. Leveling out his aircraft, Bush then slammed it into a hard left as the wyvern immediately turned and came round with its talons outstretched once more.

“Flares!” 

“Wilco, launching flares!” Not having time to question, Chappy released a stream of flares. Pushing their aircraft into an aileron roll, the flares were sent flying all around them. Spooked by the sudden bright objects, the wyvern veered from its attack. Maneuvering their aircraft to gain distance from the wyvern Bush and Chappy heard a fourth and final explosion behind them.

“Splash one bandit. All bandits down. You good Bush?” Circling above them, Caveman pulled back on his throttle.

“Apart from having a brown pants moment there, we’re still alive. Though we do now have a new problem… I dropped my bags (6).” 

“Ahh shit.” Hearing a tone of frustration from Caveman as the radio lit up again. “Caveman to airship. Please tell me you’ve got a runway nearby?” 

“As a matter of fact, we do but allowing you in is another story. Wait one, I need to talk with the CO.” Forming a holding pattern above the airship, both Sky Wardens waited for some time before the radio came to life again. “Texas to Chappy?”

“Go ahead Texas.”

“Spoken with the CO, you are cleared to follow us into the city. Uhhh-- other Sky Warden I didn’t catch the name of”

“Bush.” 

“Affirmative, Bush. You will be guided to land, you’ve got at least an hour of fuel left, right?” 

“Roger, I’ve got a loiter time of… two hours left.” Checking his fuel gauge, Bush did some quick calculations then paused for a moment as he did a double-take of what Texas had said just a few moments before.

“Wait, Texas, confirm that you said there is a city nearby?”

“Solid copy, Bush. A dwarf fortress if you want to split hairs, but it’s technically a city, how copy?” 

“Roger. We’ll follow you in. Bush out.” Flicking his radio back to only the Sky Wardens, a smirk formed on his face. “Caveman. Fifty bucks says those anomalies are the effects of the city inside a cloaking device.” 

“Oh you're on! Ain’t no way this world has something that advanced.”   

 

Continuing to circle above the airship the unlikely trio moved slowly through the valley. As they moved it became apparent to both Sky Wardens that their path was nearly identical to their charted flight course as they approached the final waypoint. 

“Bush to Texas?”

“Go ahead, Bush.”

“What’s the bearing on this fortress?” Seeing that his compass had stabilized Bush, and by extension Caveman, raised an eyebrow to the idea that a city would be all the way out here. 

“We have arrived. Maintain altitude unless you want to smash into a tower.” 

“Repeat last, Tex--oh good lord that’s what you meant!” 

 

In a split-second, the terrain in front of Bush sharply and violently shifted from the valley and mountain range to a massive city that spanned across the whole valley. Stone brick walls stretching from mountain to mountain.

“By gosh, what is this place?” Caveman’s bewildered voice echoed.

“Welcome to Ngakau-Kohatu-Maunga, gentlemen. Roughly translates to Stone Heart Mountain. If you look to your left you will see the airport. Bush, you can land on that open stretch of road that's been cleared for you.”  To his left, Bush could see four towers with bridges connecting to docked airships.

“Wilco, Texas. Making final approach, standby.” Maneuvering the Sky Warden into a slow descent towards the makeshift runway Caveman pulled up beside them, giving a friendly salute.  

“I would linger Bush, but we need to get this intel back. Expect a search and rescue in the coming weeks.” 

“Roger, Caveman, safe return trip. Bush out.” Returning the salute, he watched for a moment as his wingman sharply banked away. Refocusing on landing, Bush lowered his flaps. Eyeing up the wide street he slowly eased back on the throttle as the inboard computer voice counted off his altitude.

“Five hundred… one hundred… fifty… forty… thirty… twenty--retard, retard.” Hearing that final callout, Bush drew back the throttle to full reverse while tapping on the brakes. The Sky Warden came to a smooth stop. Powering down their aircraft, Bush and Chappy leaped out to find themselves surrounded by a few short men and hybrids dressed in decorated plate armor. 

“Well for a militarized crop duster, I’d say you did fairly well!” Hearing a voice from behind their aircraft, Chappy was the first to see a man dressed in a United States Army multicam uniform. “First Sergeant Burns, welcome to Stone Heart.” Walking up to the airmen, Burns stretched out a hand.

“Lieutenant Colonel, Palmer “Bush”.”

“First Lieutenant, Nixon “Chappy”.” 

“The dwarves will move your aircraft to a secure location. Follow me and I’ll show you where our melting pot of a Brigade is stationed.” They watched for a moment as a pair of dwarves pulled what looked to be mountain goats with harnesses to the front of the Sky Warden then the three Americans started to walk down the stone brick road.

“Soo, care to explain why someone by the callsign Texas was onboard an airship when we found them?” Bush questioned.

“That was Staff Sergeant Thompson. Him and about a Company's worth of servicemen--mostly marines, are enlisted in security for the trade routes in and out of here. As you saw on your way in--the only way out of here is via airship. It also helps pay for our lodging. After whatever-the-fuck caused us to be brought here, a platoon of army rangers were the first to make contact with this fortress… and by contact I mean they immediately picked a fight with an airship. After a short firefight, a ceasefire was called when this airship started to lose altitude. I’ll spare you the details but after negotiations and talks on how to move forward the rangers were brought here and an agreement was made with the dwarves. “Teach us about your technology, and you can use this city like it’s your home away from home.” Needless to say, they jumped on it and, for nearly three months since, every branch apart from the space force has been brought here from the surrounding area. Hence the callsign, “Melting Pot”. Currently we’ve been… contracted, by the city council to help improve the survivability and optimize their airships. Or as we like to call it, Tactical Arts and Crafts.” 

“So, exactly who’s in charge of this brigade?” Raising an eyebrow Chappy was as much in awe as Bush with how complex things here had gotten in as little as three months.

“That would be Colonel Glass for the army section, Lieutenant Colonel Langley for the marines, Lieutenant Colonel Fox for the airforce and Rear Admiral Lower Half Conway for the very few navy and coast guard servicemen and women who were caught in transit. Oh, here we are.” Looking to his right, Burns walked toward an unassuming three-story building in the fachwerk style with multiple tables and chairs outside. Placing his right hand on the door Burns turned back to Bush and Chappy. “Welcome to The Americano.” 

 

Opening the door both pilots were shocked to see a sight neither was expecting. At the center of the ground floor was a bar with four nearly full racks of assorted booze bottles and barrels stacked wherever they could fit. Around the wall were tables where an assorted number of servicemen and women sat drinking and chatting. 

“Bonjour frères. What can I get you three to drink?” An air force serviceman dressed in his blue uniform immediately shouted from behind the bar. “Wait, Palmer is that you? How you been, man!” 

“Holy shit, Lancaster?” Blinking a few times in complete astonishment, Lancaster moved from behind the bar and gave Bush a brotherly hug. “Haven’t seen you since the academy. Why the hell are you here exactly?”

“Recon turned search and rescue. Yourself?”

“Flight got caught mid-training exercise when the transfer happened. Luckily the army rangers picked us up. Now I’m in charge of this bar and keeping anyone from doing anything stupid while inside it.”

“Well glad to see you’re already finding friends here.” Gaining control of the conversation, Burns nodded to Lancaster. “Three emerald ales. The local stuff here is fucking A-class.” 

 

Finding one of the very few empty tables in the corner there was a short silence before Chappy couldn't help himself from smirking.

“So, whose idea was it to strap a GAU-19 to an airship?” 

“That would be the army mechanics. Ripped it off a Blackhawk that got turned into swiss-cheese by a wyvern, along with the hydra rocket pods--which were installed along the walls. Makes for great crowd control.” Hearing that, Bush and Chappy looked at each other, then back at Burns. “Oh right, you guys are new here. As you experienced on your way in, we are constantly under threat from wyvern and even dragon attacks. This fortress has also been under siege for the last however-the-fuck-long from creatures the locals simply call “Demons”. From what we have been able to observe, they range in size from a generic humanoid, to a damn monstrosity of an elephant.” Listening intently, Bush squinted his eyes.

“And I’m guessing us being here has made things a lot easier?” In response, Burns rocked his head back and forth and shrugged.

“I mean, they weren't exactly struggling to survive when we got here, but they certainly weren't going to turn down the opportunity of an alliance for superior weapons.” Before anyone could respond three mugs slid across the table, each containing a lime-green liquid.

“Alright, here's your drinks boys. Oh by the way, Burns, a squad of specialists went out to… S.T.E.A.L (7), some stonetack again.” Hearing that, Buns only returned a low chuckle.

“Of course they did.”

“Let's just hope they--Hey! What gives?” Lancaster suddenly snapped his attention to the front door as a young army soldier walked in with a female fox hybrid in tow. 

“Oh boy, here we go again…” A nearby marine grumbled before burying his face in his mug.                      

“Look man, you know the guidelines. Unless you’ve got express permission from Colonel Glass, she can’t be in here.” Pointing to the woman, Lancaster then motioned outside. “If you wanna hang out outside, fine by me, then it’s no longer my problem. But when you’re in here, everyone follows the guidelines, no exceptions, we have them for a reason.” As the soldier opened his mouth to say something, a nearby table of three marines stood up and glared at him.

“Dude, just fucking don’t. Lance Corporal Gill tried the exact same thing two weeks ago, and Lieutenant Colonel Langley nearly ripped off his head. Just… go outside with your lady friend and we’ll get you something.” 

 

The Americano became dead silent. The young soldier simply raised his arms in defeat, then guided his lady outside. Walking back to his bar, Lancaster leaned against it before taking a deep, frustrated breath.

“We really need to hold another meeting about this. This shit keeps happening.” 

“Wait. Are you insinuating that…” With a confused look, Chappy waved his hand from Lancaster to the front door and back.

“I won’t beat around the bush. It’s getting to the point that some of us are starting to think that The Feds gave up on finding us. So some of us started to integrate into the city itself. We’ve already lost what? Five?

“Six. Private Kemp threw in the towel this morning.” One marine from across the tavern corrected. “Off to live with a dog demi-human last I heard.”

 

Feeling what morale was left quickly stripping away from The Americano, Bush and Chappy finally saw just how low everyone truly was. 

“Well. Let it be known that once my wingman gets the intel we gathered about this back home I can guarantee a full rescue operation will be launched for all of us.” Bush casually announced, even though he himself didn't honestly know how long it would be until that happened.  

“Well you could’ve fucking lead with that when you first came in you damn chairforce!” A voice yelled from across the floor, causing a few laughs. 

“Hey, we need those chairs to have something to rest all our college essays on.” Swinging back, the volume inside The Americano gradually rose as the gears of interservice rivalry started to kick in; and not long after, the front door was once again opened. Though this time two barrels were rolled in.

“Alright! Don’t ask how, but we managed to find more of that goddamn smokey liquor stuff!” Getting multiple cheers and even a few soldiers scrambling out of their seats to reach the bar first, an army specialist smiled with pride and placed one foot on top of a barrel. “Also we… uhh… strategically acquired some proper flatbread. Don’t ask how.”

 

 

GLOSSARY

 

1. Hit the deck - To drop to nearly ground level, usually for protection
2. Puzzle Palace - The Pentagon
3. Firewall - To push the throttle all the way, usually used in piston engine aircraft. There’s also “Balls to the wall” and “Bend the throttles off”
4. Wilco - short form for “Will Comply”
5. Fangs out - To get aggressive/go for the kill 
6. Bags - Drop tanks
7. S.T.E.A.L - Strategically Transfer Equipment to Alternative Locations