The Flying JerobahPart 1: Ten
The small port city of Yeshlayren came into view through the humid, morning fog that flaunted featherly above the water. It’s small port dysfunctionally bustling with troops, many of different nationalities and a few Ahkabnilian. Muire felt most relieved when the transport ship pulled into dock, as there had been rumors of intensive torpedo attacks of supply lines to Ahkabnil when they left Lodja to Alba Karinya.
She had no clue why she was in Ahkabnil, a country whom’s name she could hardly pronounce in her native dialect. A place that was apparently alien to her when she stepped off the plank and into the bustling, hysterical city. Firstly she noted the beautiful architecture, of which she assumed was heavily religious, but also noted the bombed out, empty streets of places that seemed they would be bustling with life. Yet, in the distance, upon a hill that overlooked the town, was a factory that appeared all too familiar to home, spitting bellows of black smoke. Many of the people were nice, though reserved and seemingly unimpressed,
This country has been at war for over a decade, she reminded herself.
Admittedly, Muire wasn’t here because she devoutly attained anti-imperialist ideals, though there was a negative view of the Ardians back home, she just wanted to put herself to the test and prove what grit she had as a pilot. When she heard Ahkabnil was offering up that opportunity to any foreign pilots, she came running. However, her identity as a truthsayer had to remain minute, and her faith undercover. Several other truthsayers had come along with her, pilots themselves, unorthodox for them but the first of their kind. Muire wasn’t much of an infantrywoman, but a hell of a pilot in her mind, alongside the other renegade pilot truthsayers she stood with.
She didn’t even know what they were flying, but she hardly cared, she just wanted to get back up in the air already. Her close friend, Alyson, wanted the same but her anxious demeanor was more apparent as they waited at the cramped train stop. Another friend, and fellow truthsayer, Zara, kept a cold steel face, mostly shocked at the busy state of the city and the array of people there. Muire was perhaps somewhere in the middle. All three certainly looked out of place in some way, but in this state of war no one seemed to bat an eye. There was a group of fresh soldiers behind them, looking curiously as if they wanted to ask questions.
Suddenly, the train swept in and made a screeching, ear-piercing halt. People stood back, waiting for those on the train to step off. The crowd fell quiet, and people backed away, Muire couldn’t see much through the foggy smoke from the tracks.
Bustling out the train were hundreds of soldiers, still dressed in their rugged, torn combat gear, even with their faulty rifles in hand. Many were injured, some still with apparent scars and fresh wounds, limping, crawling, being carried, most seemed without limbs, eyes and more. Most of them were Ahkabnilian, though there were few apparently asiatic troops, presumably Himeyamans among the disenchanted mob. It was with a sudden uproar that the crowd greeted them, kneeling toward them barbarically and hailing them as worthy warriors. Some seemed like family, joining somberly, while other soldiers, sat alone or were surrounded with praise. They were all exhausted and dead-eyed, seemingly annoyed with the praise.
Muire stepped on the train, hanging her head out the window to observe the spectacle further until they were too far off. On the train itself were dozens of sugged soldiers, who stared at the ten truthsayers, the only women, that sat before them, acting like they had never seen one before. They had kept to themselves however, only gawking from a distance. “How many injured you reckon back there?” Alyson asked Muire. “Chanal must be tough.”
“I don’t know.” Muire said coldly, she just wanted to stare out the window and focus on the trials ahead. Then, right in front of her sat a finely dressed officer, with the unique formal uniform that all Ahkabnilian airmen wore, a colorful assortment of condor feathers and animals skins, draped over their shoulders in elaborate garments. Many had the colors of their families or region they were from, some, even had warpaint. Most of the soldiers in fact displayed an array of warpaint on their bodies and face, in the camouflage fashion, that had been distorted by the rigors of combat, they all still looked fierce however in their dead-eye mannerism. The man who had sat in front of Muire, was moreso finely dressed. He spoke in accent heavy, broken english, hoping them being foreigners they could communicate back to him.
“I am Awexok, 16th pursuit squadron” he bowed his elegantly, with a small grin on his face. Zara was the first to extend her hand. Awexok, getting use to the foreign fighters bring their customs to Ahkabnil, gladly shook her hand, despite it being a very personal reservation to any Ahkabnilians in most circumstances. “I’m Zara, this is Muire and Alyson.” she then went around, pointing to other truthsayers seated in other booths, sounding off their names. “Megan, Phoebe, Rose, Augeline, Ella, Saige and Tate.” she finished.
“What are you nice ladies doing in a warzone such as this?” Awexok asked, lighting his cannabis pipe ablaze, puffing plumes of smoke.
Muire, spoke up, feeling insulted somewhat. She wouldn’t have ventured out like this if she was anything but unconventional. “Fighting your war.” she grinned.
“Oh?” the pilot said, intrigued. “Field nurses? Mothers? Entertainment? uh-”
“Pilots.” Zara interrupted, hiding an exciteful smile under her skin. She kept their identity silent however, as agreed collectively by all the Truthsayers on the transport ship.
“What country are you all from?” he asked curiously.
They all glanced at eachother and remained quiet. Awexok wasn’t offended but shocked. It wasn’t the first combat women he had seen, in fact he had seen many more women infantry, but there was something strange about these ones. “Sorry if i’m trying to get to know you all.” he sighed, offering his pipe to each of them. “I believe you may be in the 16th. I haven’t seen much combat, only one hair trigger encounter, but my Pepen got me home.”
“Pepen?” Muire asked, curiously.
“You don’t know your machine? That is what we fly here, the Pepen, or Flying Pepen rather. Beautiful machine, can do anything if you push her hard enough.” he chuckled, reminiscing.
Muire grinned, with Alyson reiterating her thoughts aloud. “I can’t wait then.”
“So, what kind of pilots were you uh… before?”
“Aerobatic mostly, me transport.” Zara answered. “About the only one with combat experience” she nodded toward Alyson.
“Not as bad as before.” Awexok commented. “They’re taking almost anyone for the air war, the fresh blood have never even flown before and get on average, three months of actual flight training, before it’s interrupted by unprecedented encounters with the pinkskins. We’ve lost too many, many foreign pilots too, who come unprepared. Half a squadron from East Ardia gone within a week, the rest, within the month. LIke I said I haven’t seen much myself yet. I’m here on furlow, luckily.”
The rest of the train ride fell silent, with Awexok trying to put his finger as to this mysterious groups of women’s origin. They all seemed different, but carried commonality among eachother. He was too close-minded to make a worldly guess anyway, so he had left it, though his curiosity still peaked every once and awhile.
Tisina Airbase, Northern AhkabnilThe ten truhsayers had arrived at the seemingly quiet and tranquil base by truck, a stark contrast between the the bustling streets and crowded smoke choked train cars. It was a breath of fresh air and Muire had received a sudden boost of energy, hearing the droning vibrato of plane engines sound off overhead. She looked up, thinking she was seeing a UFO zip overhead and do a breaking turn. “And that.” Awexok said cheekily from behind. “Is the
Flying Pepen.”
“What the hell?” Alyson muttered right next to Muire, with a disappointed look strewn upon her expression. Yet she was somewhat surprised how quick the thing moved, thought Muire couldn’t tell if she was more disgusted or curious. Muire, was personally more curious as a few came in for landings, wanted to get her hands inside the cockpit of one those roaring beast. The rest just took it in, observing the clean, well kept airfield and it’s alerted personnel as they counted the fighters coming in. The ten women did the same, watching each aircraft touch down and quickly pull over for others. Pilots lazily slumped out, dizzied from being back on the ground. A few Flying Pepens came in flying disorderly with sputtering engines leaking fluids, but all landed safely with no dramatic event. Somehow, the reality of the war had not hit Muire yet, despite seeing the wimpering Ahkabnilian planes come in, despite seeing their fragile structure poked with cannon holes all over from Ardian planes.
“Men! ….and women.” a strong, deep voice rang out, a flight officer walked over, greeting all of them with an assuring nod. He spoke rough, but understandable english. Up until not, Muire hadn’t noticed that every pilot beside Awexok from the train was foreign of some sort, but men. “I’d like you welcome you all to Tisina, if you follow me I’ll show around.” he gestured, somewhat loose from typical military stature, as everyone was on the base it seemed. They passed the parked planes, cooling down from their flight, some pilots standing around or still clamoring from their deathtraps. The truthsayers were still taking the strange machine in, but they had no choice to commit at this point. Upon rudely staring at each pilot, as nonchalantly as she could, Muire noticed most the present pilots seemed foreign as well, many were Himeyaman, Ardian, East Ardian, Albionite, from almost anywhere on the map she imagined.
I’m going to flap a Jerobah on the tail, she thought to herself with a grin, as she passed the final, parked Flying Pepen.
Finally, while avoiding the rushing ground crews, they reached where they would staying. “No dirty barracks like I expected.” Zara joked, upon witnessing the large Ahkabnilian mansion that laid before them, enclosed by thick tropical brush. It had a somewhat pyramidal design with multiple steps, an intense smell of incense hit the group fast, however Muire thought it smelled pleasant and relaxing. Outside were several Ahkabnilian priest, dressed in their elaborate garbs, tending to the small patches of garden shrines that dotted to premises. “This is your quarters offered by the local temple, there are several private rooms you can get yourself acquainted with and choose.”
The ten truthsayers stayed together throughout their observation of the religious site, taking in the temple’s intricate venerability. “Women.” the base guide approached. “We have organized a separate part of the temple for you to stay on on the east corridor. It’s best you stay on that side with the Priestess, we wouldn’t want demoralization. Many of the veterans haven’t seen a free women in a long time so there’s no telling how they’ll act.” Muire in the moment felt like raising her opinion, but had stopped herself and Zara from speaking out. She simply ignored it and along her way.
Despite it, the view was astonishing, overlooking a deep rising valley within the mountains, erected along the orange skyline. Alyson had found a bottle of local wine that tasted of something awful and strong, it looked like milk which she thought of at first. But for their first night there, she enjoyed themselves in comfort next to a bonfire they organized outside, accompanied by several Shamans and Priestesses, drinking heavily and laughing under the stars.
What those ten women didn’t know awaited them in the skies over Ardia…
Letters To Home
Yoche,
I have not been candid to you in my experiences here, despite you asking consistently about
what our home has turned into. I think we have, together experienced enough to where I don’t
need to protect you anymore. You ask, how Chanal is now since we evacuated, and how the
neighborhood is. Well, dear sister, it is not the same. I can’t even recognize streets, let alone
homes anymore. My world is full of death and destruction, my friends and cousins have all been
killed like my brother’s before them, and the city causeways are the color of blood and smell of
decay. There are no canoes that float happily down the canals, but the bodies of my fellow man.
I have not eaten in days, and for more weeks I have not eaten more than rice. It has been more
than year since I even had a lentil or bean. I am tired and dying, war is not glorious as we were
told, i am no brave warrior, my warpaint is faded and gone. Do not inform papa or mama of my
Words, this letter is between us, because you deserve to know sister, my final thoughts before I
may die.
