Low Gravity World – World 2
Read from the beginning
Back in number four slot of Yellow Flight, Tristan winged forward with the other scouts. His heart was pounding, and he was having trouble keeping up. Nerves, it must be. He took some deep breaths and felt sweat running down him even in the cool air. His instructors had talked about this. What was he supposed to do? Oh, yes. He slowed the rhythm of his wing beats and matched it with his breathing. He needed to stay calm. Anxiety would steal energy, distract, and kill him.
Ahead and to his right, he saw other scouts also struggling with an attack of nerves. They were trained for this, yes, but now that it was actually happening… His fellow scouts had been fired on, and now, it was his turn. Of course, the enemy had good reason to shoot at him.
The special weapons he carried felt unfamiliar and burdened him with more than their physical weight. The power of these weapons was demonstrated at the academy, and Tristan knew what attacking with them meant. However, the lives of his shipmates were in peril, and they were counting on him to protect them.
“They are counting on all of us,” he thought as he looked around again. Everyone had their nerves under control by now. As his gaze drifted over the squadron, the thrill and wonder of flight flowed through him, interrupting his dark thoughts. A full squadron formation is an incredible thing to see. Many parts moving as one, flowing through the air they rest on. Even this terrible mission could not completely erase such joy.
By now, the enemy ships had closed the distance, so the squadron reached them quickly. Squadron Leader Wakechai gave the signal to prepare for attack, and the squadron formation spread out as each flight leader picked a separate target. Tristan suddenly remembered he was supposed to be scanning the sky for potential enemies. There seemed to be only the ships, and, as far as he knew, these people did not have any flyers. But he took a quick glance anyway to confirm the sky was clear. Then, he gave in to the impulse to glue his eyes on Squadron Leader Wakechai.
It was almost time. Just as he thought this, the Squadron Leader dove heading for the lead ship. Tristan watched as his wingman trailed two seconds behind him. One by one, Blue Flight fell from the sky in a screaming dive. After Blue, Red Flight attacked its target. As the last of Red Flight entered a dive, Tristan saw Squadron Leader Wakechai pass over the lead ship, dodge the enemy missiles, and begin making his way out of range. Yellow Leader began his dive followed by his wingman. The lead ship was burning furiously now.
In front of Tristan, Devadas locked his wings and dove. His turn was next. One second. Lock wings open. Two seconds.
GO! He pitched down into a dive just as he had in training thousands of times before. Just as he had on predators attacking the schools. He pulled the firebombs from his belt. These ships were made with wood. He knew what he was about to do. Then thought was swept aside as adrenaline, the thrill of speed, and survival instinct came together in razor focus on one thing. Hit the target without getting killed.
Yellow Leader was over their target, and two small objects sparkled down towards it before he pulled up. His wingman followed through the storm of arrows and dropped his firebombs, but did not pull up to evade the ship. His firebombs went wide as he struck the deck of the ship, staining it red. Devadas followed, dropping one into the rigging and missing with his other. The flight leader’s firebombs had started a decent fire by now and smoke was drifting over the deck. Tristan could see the crew desperately trying to put out the fires as the ship filled his entire vision.
Now! He dropped his bombs, rolled right, and pulled up just enough to avoid the ship. Using the speed from his dive, he quickly pulled himself out of range of the enemy missiles. Once safe, he began to climb in preparation for another attack. Ahead of him, the other two surviving members of Yellow Flight reformed and waited for him to join up.
Tristan looked up and saw other flights preparing for the second attack as well. Looking back, he saw the lead ship and the one his flight attacked burning out of control. Two of the others had fires on board, but they were under control. However, one had lost a couple of sails and was falling behind the others.
Laboriously, he hurried to catch up to the rest of his flight, and finally got back into formation just as it reached the jump-off point for their second attack. Four ships remained, and one of them was partially crippled. Tristan Saw two flyers preparing to attack it while the other three flights concentrated on the three ships still in formation. Once again, the flight leader dove, then Devadas, then the countdown, and his own dive. The site of Ben crashing into the deck of the ship jumped in front of his eyes, but he quickly pushed it away.
“Again, just like last time,” he told himself. Pulling out the last two firebombs, he pushed in close and released. A quick dodge, and he was speeding away from the ship. Safe. He was safe.
Time to go back, rearm, and regroup. As he looked back, smoke covered the combat area. Had they done it? Were all the ships crippled or destroyed? Smoke hid the answers. They would have to wait and see if any enemy vessels emerged.
He felt drained in a way he never had before but sped up to catch his flight anyways. Settling in formation behind Devadas, he flew with his companions back to the ship. They had done their best. He could only hope it was enough.