I rose to my feet at the top of the spectator stands as the jets began a low pass over the runway. The deafening scream of their engines tore through the air as they flew by, drowning out the cheering crowd. The lead jet of the three peeled off vertically, doubling back toward the runway and flipping its belly back toward the ground. Its partners turned wide and circled back with it, trailing behind.
As the flight of three crossed the runway a second time, the lead plane’s nose flipped upward. The fighter pitched up, leading with its belly and bleeding off its speed. Its wingmates overshot it as its nose lowered back down into normal flight. This time, the crowd’s cheers drowned out the sound of the planes’ engines. Their excitement filled the air. The cheers and clapping persisted as the fighters returned, descending to land.
Their airbrakes deployed. Their flaps extended. Their landing gear swung down into place. Smoke and dust kicked up from their wheels as they touched down. The three fell into a line as they exited the runway. The taxiway back to their hangar brought them right past the patch of grass where the stands that held the crowd my father and I were in stood. The lead pilot opened his canopy as he taxied, waving to the crowd, blowing kisses, giving thumbs up.
His visor was down. I couldn’t see his face, but I felt he was looking straight at me. He made a “V” with his fingers. Entranced, I did the same. The pilot nodded, giving a small informal salute with his two fingers before putting his eyes back on the taxiway ahead.
My father had told me about these people. He told me that a very long time ago, kings entrusted knights with the protection of their lands and people. Knights were defenders of the realm, responsible for beating back marauders and keeping rival militaries at bay.
And back in those old times, during times of peace, the knights would hold tournaments. They would test their strength and skill against other knights, to see who the better warrior was.
He told me that these pilots are like distant descendents of those knights. They protect our people from pirates. And when they’re not doing that, they compete against each other to see who the best pilot is. They’re celebrities. Companies had started broadcasting their impromptu airshows and mock dogfights on the internet. That’s how I got obsessed.
As my father and I got ready to leave, I looked over toward the hangars. The three jets had come to a stop. As their engines spun down, I could see the ground crew pour out of their hangars. As we turned to leave, all I knew was that I wanted to get back home to my simulator and try my best to recreate what I saw.
I wanted to be a knight.
I held the fuel tester up to the sunlight. Pale blue fluid sloshed around in the plastic vial. “Nice and clear.” Standing up, I unscrewed the fuel cap on the top of the wing and poured the fuel inside. I turned around and leaned against the wing, looking off toward the taxiway and tracing the path my father and I watched those fighters take to the hangars ten years ago. The spectator stands had been well-maintained. They were still clean and sturdy, though there hadn’t been an airshow here in years. The territory had expanded further south. As a result, fighter pilots seldom landed here anymore. Every now and again, a cargo plane would visit, carrying supplies, but most of the traffic since had been civilians on personal travel, like myself.
As I continued going down my checklist, I saw a woman approach me from behind one of the other planes on the ramp. With her, she carried a black bag, slung over her shoulder. Like me, she wore a regular olive flight suit. As she approached, I bounded around to the front of the left wing. “Perfect timing! There’s a little tab under the leading edge of the wing here. Put your finger right under it for me.” She hesitated. I squatted down and pointed straight at a small metal rectangle, protruding from underneath the wing. “Right here.”
She hesitantly put her finger under the metal tab as I quickly ran over to the canopy and put my face up against the left side window. “Now lift the tab up!” A red light illuminated on the left side of the instrument panel inside the cockpit. “Cool! Thank you!” I turned toward her and put my hand out. “You must be Miss Shizuka Abe.”
She shook my hand and smiled. She was slightly taller than me, with a head of azure hair that arranged itself seemingly at random until terminating atop her shoulders. “And you must be Miss Camillia Ryder. Thanks again for letting me fly with you.”
“Don’t mention it,” I replied as we started walking around to the plane’s door. “Lucky thing you and I share the same home airport. We’ve probably passed each other on the tarmac at some point and never realized it.” We circled around the far side of the right wing. As we approached the door, she handed me her bag. I opened the door and rested her bag on the rear bench before climbing inside and settling into the left seat. Shizuka sat in the right seat as I began my checklist.
“Let’s see… Seatbelts on. Fuel selector, brakes set, master on, beacon light. Fuel pressure, mixture rich, throttle idle…” I looked around outside the canopy before placing my mouth near an open hole in the window. “Clear prop!” I took the key from atop the instrument panel and put it in the ignition, turning it to start the engine.
The propeller shuddered before coming to life in a steady spin. I put my headset on and helped Shizuka with hers before flipping the radio switch on.
“Okay… How’re you hearing me?” My voice came in through my own headset loud and clear, muffling the rumble of the plane’s engine.
I could see Shizuka nodding and her mouth moving, but her voice was faint. I pointed to my headset’s microphone. “Have this thing almost right up against your mouth.”
She adjusted her microphone. “L-like this?”
“Perfect, you’re coming through loud and clear. Now just give me a second to get the weather and our taxi clearance.” I listened carefully, noting information on my kneeboard before switching frequencies and keying my radio. “MIM-one-five-two-six ground, Cherokee one-one-zero-two-niner is at the center ramp, with Yankee, ready to taxi for departure.”
The response came quickly. “One-one-zero-two-niner, taxi runway five via Charlie.”
“Runway five via Charlie, one-one-zero-two-niner.” I turned to Shizuka. “And off we go.”
I stopped the plane short of the runway and keyed the radio. “MIM-one-five-two-six tower, Cherokee one-one-zero-two-niner is holding short runway five, ready for takeoff, departure north.”
“One-one-zero-two-niner, cleared for takeoff, left turn north.”
“Clear for takeoff, left turn north, one-one-zero-two-niner.” I advanced the throttle and took the runway. As I turned down the runway, I pushed the throttle to its limit. The acceleration pushedShizuka and me back in our seats as the plane gained speed. With a gentle pull on the yoke, the wheels left the runway. Our seats pushed up into us as lift overcame gravity. A subtle turn of the yoke put us in a gently bank left as we climbed.
“First time sitting up front?”
Shizuka nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been in little planes a few times, mostly when I was a kid. But since then I’ve mostly flown commercial.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Really? Even with air pirates out there? You ever been intercepted?”
“Once. We got diverted for a few minutes, but some mercenaries came and chased them off before we got too far off course. It was scary, though. I didn’t know what was gonna happen to us.”
“Yeah, I remember seeing on the news a while back that some pirates had taken a whole airliner hostage and held all the passengers ransom for a week or so at some random airfield before a PMC came and rescued them.”
“I saw that. I keep telling myself that that kind of thing doesn’t happen to most flights.”
“That’s why I just fly myself in a small plane like this. They never go after the little planes unless they know there’s somebody important onboard.”
“Maybe it’s weird, but I’ve always felt safer on an airliner, even with the risk of pirates.”
“Prefer the smoother ride?” I jokingly rocked the wings a bit.
Shizuka giggled. “No, no, I can handle it just fine. I just… I don’t know anyone who owns a plane, and it feels awkward getting in someone’s plane who I don’t know, y’know? At least you and I work for the same company.”
“Makes sense. Speaking of which, what’s your story, anyway? The company guys told me you’re a singer?”
“Yep! I’m Kisaragi’s guinea pig for their talent management branch. I guess you’d consider me an idol singer.”
“Oooh! You didn’t tell me I was transporting royalty! Maybe we’ll get intercepted after all!”
Shizuka gave me a playful shove. “Stop it! I’m not famous yet. I’ve really only just passed the audition and some of the training and rehearsal. They want me to make my debut at Fox One.”
“An idol concert at an airshow? I guess it works. I do kinda wonder why a media company’s getting involved in mock air combat, though. Usually it’s PMCs facing off, like the Dunemar Agency or High Beat Industries.”
“I had the same question! The way they explained it to me was that, since everyone’s eyes are on Fox One whenever it’s happening, it’s an excellent marketing opportunity.”
“That makes sense. They gotta be marketing something big, though. ‘Cause participating would mean buying jets and equipment and hiring ground crews and all that.”
Shizuka shrugged. “I figure they have a plan.”
“Yeah, and part of it probably involves you making it big, huh? You ever been in front of that many people before?”
“Nope!”
“You don’t seem that nervous about it.”
“Oh, if you put me in front of that big an audience right now I’d probably pee my pants, but I figure I’ll be able to at least fake like I can handle it by the time the big show comes. Besides, it’s not like what I’m doing is dangerous, like trying to shoot people in a jet.”
“It’s not really that dangerous. It isn’t war. If you’re careful, you’ll be fine.”
“It just seems like so much to keep track of at once. All these screens and gauges. I’d be scared of flying too low and running into the ground.”
As I opened my mouth to respond, an airplane passed us by on the left. I watched as it slowly lost speed and drifted from side to side as we caught up to it. As it came alongside my Cherokee, I surveyed its design. “A Tucano.” The two pilots in the straight-winged turboprop looked right at me. I could see them talking to one another. I studied the plane some more. “Machineguns, at least two Sidewinders.”
Shizuka avoided making eye contact with them. “Are we in danger?”
“I don’t think so. They’re probably looking to sucker-punch actual PMC pilots passing through the area.” I kept my eyes locked on the Tucano. It slowed and dipped its right wing as it descended. “It’s passing underneath us.” I leaned forward to keep the plane in sight as it emerged beyond our right wing. The pilots were still talking to each other. The one in the rear seat glanced at Shizuka. He spoke at his partner in the front seat, who looked at her as well.
Shizuka pressed herself back in her seat nervously. “Are you sure we’re not in danger?”
“They can’t shoot us from this angle. And I don’t think we’re on any hit-lists.” The Tucano descended and dipped its left wing. My gaze met it as it leveled off to our left. They were still talking. The pilot in the back was yelling at his partner in front and shaking his head. He looked left and behind, scanning the sky. I took the opportunity to look at the plane’s tail. It had an insignia: A coiled snake in front of a setting sun. I looked back to the pilots to see them both scanning the sky. “Either they see something or they know they’ve spent too long looking.”
As I finished my sentence, the Tucano flipped onto its left side and banked away hard. I made sure to watch it leave until it was out of sight. “There we go. It’s gone. An actual fighter will probably shoot it down at some point. Tucanos that get greedy like that don’t last very long.”
Shizuka breathed a sigh of relief. “A Tucano’s a kind of plane?”
“Yeah. Small-scale bandits fly them a lot because they’re pretty cheap and can carry weapons. Some people even call the bandits themselves ‘Tucanos.’”
“How do you know so much about sky pirates?”
“When I was a kid, I wanted to be an air mercenary. I still kinda do, but I figure maybe I can make a name for myself flying for Kisaragi.”
I kept the numbers “30” just above the cowling in my view as I descended toward the runway. As our plane passed over the tarmac, I leveled out and pulled the throttle back, letting the plane fly down the runway until the main gear touched down. I pressed my toes into the brakes and pushed gently with my left foot to turn off the runway. “Whew. We’re on the deck.” I keyed the radio. “Tower, one-one-zero-two-niner is clear runway three-zero.”
The controller responded swiftly. “One-one-zero-two-niner, taxi to the ramp via Alpha.”
“Taxi via Alpha, zero-two-niner.” I grabbed the throttle by its base, slowly advancing it while letting my left hand rest in my lap. As the plane started to move, my feet steered it down the yellow center line of the taxiway. I looked around. We and the equipment spinning atop the control tower were the only moving things at the airport. The fuel trucks looked about a decade out of date. Grass had begun to crack through parts of the taxiway and some of the hangars were missing doors and sections of roof. “This place looks dead,” I commented.
Shizuka nodded. “It looks like it hasn’t been used in a long time.”
I swung the airplane around and stopped at a parking spot before setting the parking brake and shutting the plane down. As I pulled the mixture lever back, the propeller lost power and sputtered to a dead stop.
Shizuka grabbed her bag and opened the door as I noted our flight in my logbook. As I took my bag and exited the plane, the first thing that hit me was the heat. After that was the quiet. Wind, the creaking of a chain-link fence, and the intermittent pop of the cooling engine were the only things to hear.
Shizuka waited patiently as I walked around my airplane to tie it down. As I tightened the strap on the tail, I heard a voice call out, “Miss Ryder! Miss Abe!”
I stood. A woman in business attire was waving as she walked toward us, coming from one of the better-looking hangars. She seemed immune to the heat, wearing a navy blue skirted suit and jacket. She looked somewhere between “secretary” and “flight attendant.” Shizuka and I walked up to meet her.
She smiled as we approached. “We’ve been expecting you. I’m Yuzuki Takahashi. I’m with the company. Let’s get out of this heat, shall we?”
We followed her toward the hangar. She walked quicker than I expected, especially in heels. She was either very used to walking in heels, or really wanted to get out of the sweltering heat radiating off of the tarmac. She had an impressive figure: Tall and hourglass-shaped. Her hips naturally swayed side to side as she walked. Her jet black hair was cut no longer than the bottom of her head.
As we approached the hangar, she held the door open for us. Relief hit me as I passed into the climate-controlled environment of the hangar. I dropped my bag and let my arms hang at my sides, taking in the cool air. Shizuka dropped to the floor and laid back on the cool concrete.
Hearing Miss Takahashi shut the door snapped me back to reality. I opened my eyes and looked around the hangar.
Then I saw it.
Two of them, in fact. Fighters. Not museum pieces or scale models. Not a simulation or a video game. Real fighters. MiG-29s.
With an excited gasp, as if the nine-year-old me who wanted to become a knight had been waiting these ten years for that moment, I screamed, “MiGs! Real life MiGs!”
TE Anubis