Ryan Lungfirst was aware that at least one of the dog fighters below him could probably reach his altitude, even if they wouldn’t have much maneuverability once they reached it.  They were customized planes.  He had half expected the group to break formation before he broke radio silence.  Unfortunately, they not only held their relatively low altitude formation but their leader ordered him to join it.

“…He didn’t get to see my plane…” Lungfirst mumbled to himself, silently cursing the headwind that had made him late.  He didn’t dare explain his craft’s specialized features over the open airwaves.  He just had to hope that his temporary comrades were observant enough to detect how vulnerable he was at low altitude.  Then he had an idea of how to fix that.

He clicked his radio to transmit.  “10-4.  Out.”  His muffled voice was flat and unenthused but a discerning ear might have noticed an edge of worry under the professionalism.

He pushed the nose of his XB-35-M4 into a measured descent, pacing it so that he would match altitude and pass the formation 200 feet in front of the Iron Jackson.  Then he would drop back behind and rise to join the formation smoothly from beneath.  He didn’t like fancy flying but these other pilots needed to know how different his plane was from theirs without discussing it over the radio in uncertain airspace.  This way, they could all get a good view from below and then from above.  Hopefully that would answer questions without them having to be asked.  And, if one of them was a scanner, they’d have a perfect opportunity to get an accurate and detailed readout on the Long-Dive.

There was one other matter too.  He couldn’t fit on the Iron Jackson’s six unless the other two moved. His wingspan was almost as wide as their entire formation at present.  He could come in at the back, and that would be his target location, if the other two pilots didn’t loosen up the formation, since he had no intention of ramming them.