[b]Chake Bay, Pemba[/b] The soft thunder of the waves lapping the shore set a low languid rhythm drumming under neath the rattle of a ceiling mounted fan. The cool ocean breeze blew in through the open windows, filling the office with a lingering sweet smell and subtle salty taste. A cup of tea sat on the corner of the table cooling in the ocean breeze. A cracked, hard-boiled egg floated in the tea broth alongside the wiry string of the tea bag. The pages of a small book turned along side. Dezhi Cao leaning over the pages and reading through the thin contents, studying the mild reports from home. A tickling sensation in the back of his mind batted him about, reminding him that on all accounts, being active at home wasn't much better than standing on the precipice of a war in Africa. A series of large pushes were under way in Russia, and the casualties on both sides were already mounting as the Republic dug in Omsk to hold back the Manchurian based army. He bit nervously as the side of his cheek, raising the cup of tea to his lip. The egg bobbed against his lip as he sipped the tepid water, the herbal bitterness and sweetness of the water bathing his tongue. He sighed deeply as he turned over to the next page, reaching into the cup for the egg. He put the porcelain tea cup down on the table, as he moved the saucer over. He did count a blessing though, the weather here was the most consistent he had the pleasure of experiencing. It was far better than Russia. The egg shell cracked between his fingers. He blindly peeled away the marbled ivory of the shell to produce the brown-stained egg underneath. Raising it to his lips he heard the door knock. “It's open.” he said, looking up. With a creek the solid-faced door groaned open. Sen Zhou stood in the door way, her face flat and tepid as if some weight bore down on her. Her gaze froze her superior mid-bite on the egg. “Communications wants to see you.” she said sternly, “Dao Cheng is also there.” “Cheng? Why'd our aircommander want to be there?” Cao asked, a nervous tensity wrapped through his chest. The tea-soaked egg hung limp between numbing fingers as a cold reality came to. “I'll explain on the way.” Zhou said coldly, “They both want you.” Cao licked his limps, his breath shuddered. He looked at the briefing report from home. With a low cold sigh he closed the pages and stood up, taking a bite from the egg. “Alright, what does he want?” “Communications just received a radio report from mainland Ethiopia.” Zhou said, stepping aside to let her commander through, “The Ethiopian military is abandoning the Suez, Spain has overtaken the defense there.” The two walked through the command building, their boots grinding along the carpeted wood floor of the main command post. Officers stepped aside, saluting Cao as he went. Zhou kept explaining, “Minutes ago we received a radio dispatch over the general military channels echoing through their military bases, through our partner bases we got word that Spain has dispatched what's believed to be several unidentified aircraft from the outlet of the Suez Canal into the Red Sea.” “Are your sure you're not concerned about recon flights?” Cao asked nervously, chewing indecisively on the tea egg. “Hardly.” Zhou sighed, “We heard the hostile aircraft are moving at speeds unknown to Ethiopian forces. There's not a lot of physical description of them, except they were caught heading over Hejaz before their engines died away.” Cao nodded. His breath felt cold in his chest and the typical tropical warmth of Pemba felt nonexistent as he shuddered under his uniform. “Do we know who made the first report?” “Not at all. I was just given a mild briefing before sent to get you.” said Zhou, stepping through the door to the sandy outside of the Chake Bay training base. In the yard soldiers trained by the unit tai chi and their martial arts. The meditative stances of their exercises seemingly blind to the conditions outside their base. The men stared listlessly into space ahead of them as they held out their palms. Their hands and arms craned about their head and shoulders, miming everything from cranes to tigers as they danced on their toes and heels in the African sun. “What does Dao Cheng expect to do?” Cao asked, watching his men and returning the stray salute as he followed his lieutenant around the side of the command structures. “I think he wants to intercept them, I don't know where but he seems like he has an idea. He already put word in to mobilize our pilots.” “I suppose that'll be the action they want.” he laughed nervously. “Dezhi Cao,” Zhou turned, standing beside the comm station's front door, “This is a serious matter. Don't flake.” she stared up at him with stern disapproving eyes, “Don't break like you almost did during the Turkish episode, especially around the Ethiopians. They hardly have the means to defend themselves against the Spanish. Not like the Turks.” The front door to comms groaned open as the spring tightened overhead. Cao followed his lieutenant into the air conditioned building. “Comrade Cao,” a young soldier said, standing up from his front desk. He brushed off his beige uniform as he snapped to salute, “Communications officer Yung Bao is looking for you.” “I heard.” the commander replied, “At ease comrade.” “Yes sir.” The two officers worked through to the heart of the comm station. The clicks and hum of radios buzzed in the air, filling it with a flurry of activity. Somewhere a muted radio sung prerecorded songs and news from China. Elsewhere excited chatter whispered through closed doors. Finally at the end of a narrow hallway they walked through an open door and into a room filled with an array of radio gear. Standing behind a young private the distinctive tall build of Yung Bao leaned over the central communications hub. A heavy arm wrapped around his chest as one held to his ear a headset. Alongside him in his distinctive dark-blue officer's coat stood Dao Cheng, he looked up as Cao entered the room, giving him a cold and silent nod. “CO's here.” he said in a low voice, stepping away from the console. He was a moleish sort of person with narrow beady eyes and a long blunted nose. His chin came to an almost curved point. In some strange ways, he almost came off as feminine in an unsettling way. Bao lowered the headset from his ear and turned. He was in strong contrast to the air-force officer. And quickly he stole dominance, “I've been hoping the Ethiopians have been reporting any updates on their boogies position and direction.” he said, “But so far it's been silent on their part. If they're talking about it, they're doing it on specific channels and not the broad national network.” “I hear Spanish airplanes have been seen. Zhou filled me in on the basic details.” Cao said, nodding to his lieutenant. He held back a nervous waiver in his tone of voice as he looked between the two. “Where's the situation headed?” “Well Azima lifted off from Addis just several minutes ago with a flight plan clear to Asia, that much we were able to obtain with our channels to the ambassador and the palace itself. They were heading up towards Socotra last update. “Just moments after we received reports the Spanish Armada had launched something. Airplanes we're guessing.” “Based on the pre-emptive reports on their speed I'm willing to guess jets.” Cheng said, his voice was deep and cold. “The Spanish have jets?” Cao asked, shocked. “Appears so. A lot of everyone in this world is pretty silent on a lot of things. To date we've only confirmed the US to be capable of producing jet technology.” Cheng nodded, “After the Russian Empire collapsed and after we launched our own program we believe the Russians may have started work, a few people in service to the Siberian Republic have thus far come forward to say something but we haven't found any hard evidence, I can only guess their projects got buried like the Emperor's body. “On the suspicion I've ordered our own wing of jets to go on stand-by.” “Well that's good, but where are they going?” Cao asked, stepping in towards his officers. “I may have an idea off the top of my head, a suspicion.” Yung Bao started. He scratched at his blunt egg round chin as he walked over to a small table, “The aircraft were reported as going over to Hejaz, and going down the coast. Unless they intend of taking the war to Persia for whatever reason then the only target I know of his Azima's aircraft, she and the royal family are en'route to China from Persia. I've also been told through no official channel this airplane may also be carrying something other than the family, but intelligence hasn't been able to tell me what; but no wonder, this has been severely short notice.” “They're far enough away though, right?” asked Cao, “If they were in any real danger could they divert?” “Unlikely,” Dao Chen said. This sent a shutter down Cao's spine. The delivery was sure and affirming. His narrow eyes hardly betrayed the absurdness of his own opinion. In them, Azima and the royal family were already in the ocean sinking, or in Spanish escort. “It could take them a few hours if they're going that way. I agree with Bao, this is their highest priority target, given their heading and the haste their moving. Traditional propeller driven aircraft wouldn't hope to catch up or even get that far.” “So what are you suggesting?” “Give me the word, and I'll send the men I have idling now out.” the officer said. He wanted this order to be made. “It'll be the best coarse.” Chen said, “If it's them they're after and they manage and our men get there, you'll be a hero on two continents probably.” “I can already think of the promotion.” Zhou said teasingly from the door. “How long until our pilots can get there?” asked Cao “On full engine speed I imagine we'll intercept Azima's aircraft in under four hours. The Spanish might reach her before hand. So I need this now. Just to take the shot. “Of course, we'll be forced to land in Addis to refuel before coming home. I'll send a carrier there to meet them.” The choice felt clearly presented. It was the only decision, even if mired in some doubt. Full intentions had not been laid out. But the only alternative was to surrender the Emperor's family to the Spanish and loose the war before it could be won. But somehow, it felt difficult to make. A hitch clamped shut around Cao and he could feel the choking restraint. His breathing became tense, he groaned to himself. “M-make the call.” he said, involving himself. ----------------------------------------------------------- A fiery whine engulfed the tarmac as airplanes crawled across the boiled black asphalt. Ground crews cleared the way as hot air roared. The craft, strange, metal and cut with clean lines and rounded edges turned about, lining up on the runway for take off. The planes were jets. Designed from the wrecks salvaged from the US endeavors to reclaim the Philippines in the seventies. Their under-wing engines hummed and roared as they crawled across the tarmac to face the northern skies. The over head African sun shone off the dark green hull. The cabin canopy a knife's blade of silver light. Within the helmeted and visored Chinese pilots went through their flight check lists, the rattling thunder of their horses rattling between their legs. These were fathered by projects in Mongolia. With flying high and fast. Their wings held a subtle angle towards the rear. The metal carefully molded between them and the body until any indication they were separate parts disappeared in organic form. If it weren't for the hidden welds of their metal plates it was if they were cast from the same mold. “Heron wing 1.” the control tower said, the structure little more than a wooden scaffold, the head a bungalow of plexiglas, “Have you completed your preflight check list?” “Hero leader, we have.” one of the three said, “We're ready for take off.” “You are clear for take off. Rendezvous with the Ethiopian royal transport off of Socotra.” “Copy that. Let's down some old bulls.” ([url=http://youtu.be/yK0P1Bk8Cx4]YEEEAAAAAAAH[/url])