A Perverted Path to Victory

Tinvel

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“Alena, get back in formation! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The Fulleye he’d been watching from on high shifted right, increasing the gap between itself and the rest of the close-knit planes. Tinvel swore, kicking his plane over to follow, pressing the radio crystal to his lips.

“Alena, get back in formation! Alena! Acknowledge message receipt!”

Alena’s plane wiggled its wings to show he’d been heard, yet the separation continued to grow until several hundred meters separated her craft from the rest of the formation. She was fully on her own, wingmate abandoned, turning what had been a four-craft flight into an uneven trio.

“Idiot!” Tinvel hissed, shoving the crystal back into its pouch. “Chona, keep your eye on the main formation. I’m going to watch Alena get torn to shreds.”

“Got it.”

The practice flight was falling apart. Flying at the very apex of safe altitude, Tinvel had a crystal-clear view of the unfolding battle. He already knew what was going to happen.

They were in the midst of a recently devised training scenario’s third repetition, following a plan that he and Affe had cooked up to give Tulian’s freshest pilots the best chance possible against the coming wyverns. With the advent of aerial rockets, the planes no longer required mages to pack an offensive punch, and that meant they had a rash of new and inexperienced pilots to get up to speed. He and Affe were commanding opposing sides of a four-vs-four engagement, one side tasked with reaching the safety of a distant objective, the other with forcing them out of the fight through simulated spellfire and faux rocket attacks.

Thanks to Alena’s idiocy, the skirmish was already decided. Affe ordered two of his planes to hold back, sending the other pair of wingmen diving down onto Alena. Tinvel knew that she thought she was being clever, or maybe heroically brave. Knowing she had a better grasp of combat flying than most, she used those skills to pull a hard turn at just the right moment, dodging the first plane’s slicing dive with ease, then flipping back around to dodge the second an instant later.

But those hard turns drained her speed. She was left low, slow, and vulnerable. When she tried to bring her plane around into a dogfighting circle to engage her passing attackers, the pair who’d attacked her simply pulled up and away, refusing to take the bait.

Then the second pair dove.

Left without options, a bright flash of spell-light illuminated the flank of Alena’s plane, representing the engulfing flames of a passing mage’s attack. Not bothering to hide the disgust in his voice, Tinvel sneered into the radio crystal.

“Alena, you’re dead. Return to base.”

He didn’t bother watching her wingwaved acknowledgement, instead turning to the remaining trio. The third plane, the one who was supposed to be Alena’s wingmate, had shuffled closer to their comrades, seeking the mutual protection they now lacked.

The moment the first pair of Affe’s wingmates finished regaining their altitude, they were back into a dive, targeting Alena’s abandoned ally. The first missed, but the second struck true, turning a four vs four into two against two.

The last pair lasted the longest, of course. They implemented a mostly-competent thatch weave in response to their diving attackers, but the alternating attacks meant that Affe’s planes had maintained the speed advantage all the way through, allowing them to engage and disengage at will. Two flashes soon marked the end of the exercise.

“Four dead for no kills,” Tinvel announced over the crystal. “Aggressor team, good work. Defensive team, most of you did your best.” He grit his teeth. “Alena, you’re going to wait for me at base. Everyone else, practice formation flying on the way back.”

He jerked his Fulleye around, turning toward the airfield. Alena’s plane was a few kilometers ahead, already descending toward the makeshift airfield of leveled dirt that had been created a few dozen kilometers beyond Tulian’s furthest farms.

“She definitely was in range of your last transmission,” Chona said. “You think she’s going to listen?”

Tinvel’s leg bounced on the cockpit floorboard. “If she doesn’t, I swear to the gods that I’m throwing her out of the program.”

“At this point, I don’t think Voth would blame you.”

For better or worse, the sole credit he could give to Alena was her guts. She didn’t just wait for Tinvel at the base. She was standing at his Fulleye’s usual parking space, arms crossed, a frown on her face as she watched his plane roll into place. Notably, her backseater was nowhere to be seen. Tinvel didn’t even know who she was flying with currently; her constant screwing around had Tulian’s precious few combat mages refusing to fly with her one after the other. He and Chona had barely cut the engines before she stomped up to the side of the plane.

“I got all four of their planes out of position! If you’d ordered the attack, we would’ve taken them all out!”

“That wasn’t the mission profile!” Tinvel tore his flight cap off, crouching to step out onto the Fulleye’s wing. “You weren’t there to dogfight! You were there to simulate enemy gliders for the other pilots to practice attacking. Do you think an unpowered glider hitched to a wyvern is going to try and get in a turn fight with a Fulleye? Do you?”

Alena was a thin woman. Girl, really. Younger than Tinvel, plucked out of the University for flight training at seventeen years old. She’d been training for alchemy, but hadn’t found any talent in it, as evidenced by the chemical scars that no healer had yet managed to purge from her hands. She stuck her chin out at Tinvel.

“The enemy is going to try things we don’t expect. Why should I be any different?”

Tinvel blinked rapidly, baffled. He knew he’d been away for a few weeks, but he’d thought Affe’s reports had kept him well enough appraised of the trainees. Not Alena. His descriptions, dire as they were, weren’t half the story.

“Because that’s not what you were told to do! Can you not calm down for the fifteen minutes it would have taken for your flight to get some damn practice?”

“I need practice, too, and I’m better than them.”

“Oh, you have got to be fucking—”

Tinvel’s spluttering disbelief was drowned out by the growing roar of clanking aircraft landing behind him. The makeshift airfield was briefly filled with the roar of engines and clouds of dust as the rest of the flight came in, wheels bouncing and squeaking as they landed in rapid succession, turning off into their parking spots nearby. The brief break was fortunate, because it gave him time to calm his temper by a few degrees.

“What about your wingmate?” He tried, changing tactics. “They got left out on their own. No one to cover their six! They got shot down because of that! Because of what you did!”

She shrugged. “I signaled to him that I was going to break off. It’s not my fault if he decided to stick with the others instead of following his wingmate.”

Tinvel grit his teeth, taking deep, measured breaths. “He was doing what he was supposed to do.”

Finished with her post-flight work on the Fulleye, Chona joined Tinvel, wiping her greasy hands on a cloth.

“We told you that if you disobeyed orders again you’d be out of the damn program.” Chona tossed the rag at her feet. “Y’know what you just did today?”

Alena scoffed. “That was a bluff. We need every pilot we can get, and I’m one of the best trainees you have.”

Tinvel’s head swirled, rocked by a disbelief so intense it was dizzying. “That— that doesn’t mean you get to do whatever you want!”

“No, but it means you’re not going to toss me out of the program because of this.”

He lunged forward, grabbing the girl by both shoulders, fingernails digging into her flight jacket, his chest swelling as he brought his face right into hers.

“You DIED!” He screamed, spittle flying. “Dead! You’re fucking DEAD! If that had been real you’d be a fucking smear in the grass! Do you have any idea what that means?!”

Tinvel had thought he was under control. That he was going to clench his jaw and grind his way through this argument. But the emotion that swept up in him was so sudden and so overwhelming that he had no time to react. He was the most surprised of anyone at his own actions, yet he couldn’t stop himself.

“Tin-” Chona started, reaching for his shoulder. He shook her off.

“Dead!” He screamed. “Eight fucking people dead because of you! You couldn’t follow orders for ten fucking minutes and you got a whole flight killed! YOU killed them!”

Alena’s eyes were wide as saucers as she tried to pull back, but Tinvel’s fingers were already digging deep into her.

“Tin, stop-” Chona said, trying to drag him off Alena. For once she wasn’t strong enough.

“I’ve seen it!” He screamed. “I’ve seen what happens when a griffon takes a fucking plane down! They eat you! Did you know that?! You fucking should! I’ve told you that! I’ve seen people get ripped in fucking half! I’ve heard them scream, I’ve seen their blood spray across twenty fucking paces, and you think this is a game?!”

Tinvel heard Affe leap from his plane, calling his name. He ignored that, too.

“You know how long pilots like us lasted in the Champion’s world? How long we had to live when we went into combat?! Ten! Fucking! Days! I’m trying to train you for everything I fucking can, and this is what you do? What the fuck is wrong with you?! What is it?!”

He was shaking her, he realized. Throwing her around in a blind fury, his hands aching from how hard they were clamping down. She wasn’t trying to respond anymore, instead shoving and pushing at him as she tried to break free. Chona had both arms wrapped around his waist in an attempt to drag him off the girl, but all that achieved was dragging them both back.

“Get the fuck out!” Tinvel screamed. “Get the FUCK out! Get out of this fucking place! You’re never getting in a fucking plane again! What the fuck is wrong with you?! You should be grateful! You were going to die! Fucking die! Why don’t you fucking people get it?!”

A burst of spell-powered wind hit Tinvel’s arms from below, throwing them upward. His fingernails peeled up as they were wrenched out of Alena’s jacket, leaving a bloody streak on the leather. He was still screaming at her as Affe’s tackle hit him in the ribs, driving him away from the woman.

“Calm down!” Affe yelled. “Tinvel, Tinvel man, calm down!”

“She’s gonna get people killed!” He struck at Affe’s head with an elbow, trying to get free. “I’m not gonna let her do that shit again!”

“She’s gone, Tin!” Chona’s tail wrapped around his arms, securing them against his chest. “She left, alright? It’s okay! She’s gone!”

He could barely breathe. His chest was heaving so hard it hurt, but it felt like no air was getting into his lungs. He spun and jerked in their grip, searching for Alena. She really was gone. The eruption of anger still didn’t leave him. It crystallized, holding its shape rather than continuing its raging growth.

“Fine!” He snapped. “Fine, I’m fine.”

“No you’re not, man,” Affe said, though he did loosen his grip. “Which hell was that from?”

“What do you think?” He shoved Affe off him, then grabbed at Chona’s tail, trying to peel it off his waist. The furred limb didn’t budge.

“It’s okay, Tin.” She shifted her tail lower and tighter on his waist, making sure he couldn’t get a good grip on it. “You’re good now. Just breathe for a minute, okay?”

“No! No, we’ve got shit to do! We’ve gotta get another sortie up! Without that fucking moron!” He tried to step toward the Fulleye, but Chona jerked him back.

“Just breathe, Tin.”

He wanted to spit a curse at her, but his throat was so swollen it couldn’t come out. Given no other choice, he straightened, not trying to fight her anymore.

Affe took a step back, shaking his head. Then, realizing that a crowd of ground crews and pilots had gathered, he turned around and began shooing them away.

“Hey! Back at it! You’ve got work to do! I know you haven’t finished your post-flight work yet, damnit! Go!”

Reluctantly, the audience dispersed. Tinvel was left in shameful silence, the crimson slowly fading from his face. He sniffed, looking around, and felt the wind hit drops of spittle sitting on his face. He wiped his chin.

“Are you good now?” Chona asked cautiously.

“Yeah.” He swallowed. “Yeah, I think I’m good.”

“Okay.”

Her tail slowly uncurled, both her and Affe watching him like hawks, as if he was about to snag a pistol and sprint off after Alena. A part of him might have wanted to, but he knew better.

Instead he snatched his tool bag and stomped over to the Fulleye, dropping to the ground and shuffling beneath the wing. Chona followed, laying down on the ground beside him, with Affe kneeling beside the wing nearby.

“Think I heard something crack when we landed.” Tinvel said. The statement was emotionless.

“Tin…” Chona whispered.

“Might’ve been the bracing. Wooden landing gear is damn fragile.”

“Tin,” she said again, even quieter.

“What?” He snapped. “You think I shouldn’t have kicked her out?”

“Not like that.”

“You freaked out, man,” Affe added. “I thought you were going to try and kill her.”

“As if,” he spat. “What would be the point? The wyverns were going to do that for me.”

Chona and Affe shared a look. Tinvel didn’t join in.

“I can take over training for a bit longer, y’know,” Affe said. “Alena’s outta the program. We can agree on that. But you’ve gotta get the Foresight done, right?”

“I can do both.” He peeled back the landing gear’s aerodynamic cowling. His bloodied fingers left red smears on the wood. “Most of my time is spent waiting for the carpenters to get the design changes made. I’ve got time to train the pilots.”

“There’s more work to do in the capital, too,” Chona said. “Voth’s still trying to find recruits, and there’s weapons development programs-”

“You don’t think I’m needed out here?” He tossed the cowling aside, pulling a light crystal from his breast pocket to help inspect the bracing. “I’m the best pilot Tulian has. You know what Professor Brown said: keeping the good pilots alive so they can train new pilots is how we win the war. Otherwise everyone’s going to be dying before they can figure out how to fly.”

“Not if that’s how you’re gonna be training them,” Affe said. “You can’t be doing that. Hells, Tinvel, that was reportable. You know what the Governess said: none of that Old Tulian Royal Army training crap. Even the army’s drill sergeants aren’t allowed to rough up the recruits.”

“Report me, then. What’re they going to do about it?” Finding no signs of cracks in the left landing gear, he scooted over, prying open the cowling on the right side. “They going to put me in prison like they did Lieutenant Shale? Sketching out design drawings from inside a cell? That’s basically what you two are already saying I should do.”

“No, we’re not going to report you.”

“I mean-” Affe began.

“Shut the fuck up, Affe.” Chona swatted his shin with her tail, then took a breath. “Tin. Look. There’s… people are going to die. In the war. The people under your command are going to die. Are you going to be… okay with that?”

“No.”

“Then-”

“That’s why it’s gotta be me.” He found the crack. A tiny hair-width split in the frame, small enough that it should’ve been impossible for him to spot, much less feel on landing. “I don’t want someone in charge who’s okay with people dying. I don’t think any of the pilots do, either. So it’s gotta be me.”

Chona bit her lip. Affe, still kneeling, looked at her with a shrug, as if to say, He’s got a point, doesn’t he?

“That’s…” She trailed off, thinking. Then she scooted a bit closer, so their shoulders were touching. “What if you visited the Temple of Amarat? I know the Governess has been telling them to turn themselves into something a bit less, uh, extreme. They’re supposed to be able to help people with stuff.”

Tinvel started applying an alchemist-fortified wood glue to the crack. It wasn’t a severe piece of damage, but it might become a problem if it spread.

“What are they going to say? That I shouldn’t be pissed when people put everyone else in danger? That I’m not going to treat them like the pieces of shit they are? What do you want from me?”

“Your fingernails are still bleeding,” Affe said. He met Tinvel’s eye for a brief second before looking away, clearing his throat. “Just… pointing that out. You’re bleeding all over the landing gear.”

Tinvel turned his hands over, inspecting them. The middle finger of his right hand had no nail at all, just a fleshy, bloody bed, while most of the others were lifted up or partially torn. All at once, the throbbing pain made itself known. A drop of blood pattered against his chest.

He cursed, pulling himself out from under the plane.

“Fine,” he grunted. “I’m not gonna let myself do that again. But we’ve got shit to do, alright?” He found a clean rag, wiping away the blood as best he could, then reached inside his jacket and took a sip of healing potion. The heat of pain and ice of alchemical healing went to war in the tips of his fingers. “We’ve got a week until it all goes to shit. A week at best. That’s how long we have to train them.”

“A week’s better than a day.” Chona crawled out from under the Fulleye, using her tail to pull herself up by the Fulleye’s bracing. “We’ve got new tactics, new supplies. If the Governess pulls through, we’ll have new allies. We can come up with something.”

“Something to minimize casualties,” Affe quickly added. “Not eliminate them. You get that, right?”

“Of course.” He dropped the bloody rag into a bucket of grimy water. Red swirled to the top, floating alongside black oils. “People are going to die. Nothing I can do about it.”

“Okay.” Affe clapped him on the shoulder. “Just… stay strong, man. You’re doing your best. We need that. I don’t care if you’re out here or in the city, but… we need that.”

“Alright.”

“Your best. Not perfect, just your best. That’s all we need.” Affe squeezed his shoulder, then dropped it. After an uncomfortable moment of the three of them simply standing there, he nodded quickly, beating a hasty retreat. Chona and Tinvel were left alone.

“There was actually a crack in the landing gear, by the way.” He wiped his nose. “Not a big one. But I put some glue on it.”

“Huh. Good ear, I guess.”

“Yeah. Let’s get the plane ready for the next sortie.”

She gave him a worried look, but nodded. “Alright.”

Chona stayed close to him as they worked. Touching and bumping shoulders, a hand or tail finding any excuse to use him as a way for her to balance. Once upon a time, that had been one of the things he found most irritating about her. Now it was comforting. Exactly like she probably meant it to be.

Still, Tinvel couldn’t help thinking about what Affe had said. About people dying. Pilots dying. The ones under his command, and how it was going to happen no matter what. He grit his teeth.

Doesn’t mean I’m not going to try. I have to try.

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