Dogfight and Familiar Voices
To dodge the Battlewings hurtling straight at them, Lamien yanked the control yoke hard. The ship tilted sharply to one side, vision blurring as the Battlewings streaked past above and below. Dol Jumeok tumbled sideways, rolling with a crash. Jin-cheol had to grip the co-pilot seat to keep from flying off.
Right after, the entire hull shuddered with a deep drdrdr vibration, red lights and warning alarms blaring from the instrument panel.
"Damn it! We took a hit to the hull!" Lamien growled through gritted teeth, throwing her whole body into wrenching the yoke again. Vision, which had nearly tilted to ninety degrees, twisted violently back toward level. Dol Jumeok, jammed into one corner, rolled clear across to the opposite side.
The forward view steadied at last, but the panel kept spewing alarms. And in that view, far ahead, the Battlewings were banking wide for another pass.
Lights flashed from the head of one Battlewing, unleashing a barrage of bullets straight at the airship's nose. Lamien twisted the yoke for evasive maneuvers, and Dol Jumeok rolled again. Even as he tumbled, he bellowed,
"We gotta shoot back!"
Lamien, teeth clenched on the controls, flicked her eyes at the shout, then slammed up the co-pilot yoke in front of Jin-cheol and hit a button. A periscope like the one she'd been using clanged down over his head.
Jin-cheol jammed his face into it, and the outside world filled the sight. An enemy Battlewing loomed immediately in view; he squeezed the trigger on the yoke. A heavy tung-tung-tung-tung echoed as tracer flames streaked forward in the sight below. The Battlewing jinked wildly, dodging bullets.
"Wh-what the hell is going on?!"
Maro and Snow appeared at the cockpit door then, bracing against the wall from the shaking ship.
"Enemies!" Dol Jumeok's blunt, clear shout cut through. Maro's fur bristled; Snow slapped on her owl mask in an instant.
Jin-cheol stood, saying,
"Can't get a bead."
"Wh-what? What do you mean..."
"Calibrated for Lavito eyes. Doesn't line up for mine."
With that, Jin-cheol snatched the rifle from the corner. Sitting and cramming his face into the periscope felt awkward as hell. Plus, the sight's perspective felt off somehow. Better to head to the cargo bay and shoot from there.
The Battlewings finished their turn and charged again. Lamien's evasions shook the ship. Dol Jumeok and Maro rolled; Jin-cheol and Snow braced low and held firm. Alarms grew louder.
"I-I'll do it! My eyes are Lavito!"
Maro—unhurt, thanks to Dol Jumeok's cushioning—scrambled up and beat it to the co-pilot seat. Without waiting for the adults, he yanked down the periscope and opened fire with the cannons.
Dol Jumeok crawled up beside him.
"Don't just spray! Control your breathing, fire when you've got a sure lock! Wasting ammo's stupid!"
"Y-yeah!"
Jin-cheol smirked at the duo, then turned and bolted from the cockpit. Snow, owl mask on, followed. Amid the wild shaking, one moved on superhuman enhancements, the other on a lifetime of balance training. Neither faltered.
They burst into the cargo bay, pocked with gunports whistling wind. Easy to see the alarm's cause: steam and oil hissed from punched-through hull panels.
Jin-cheol passed Dol Jumeok's secured truck and bike, yanked a lever. With a whiiine, the bay ramp began opening below. He looped a line around himself, tied the other end to the hull, and handed it to Snow.
"Ease it out slow till I say stop."
"..."
She stared, holding the line—understanding or not, no reply. Jin-cheol took a short breath, leaned slowly out the ramp. The line went taut. Snow spread her legs wide, leaned back to brace his weight. She'd gotten it.
"Stop!"
She locked it tight at his call. Jin-cheol, lashed by one line, stood on the airship's hull, protruding outside. Bracing feet on both sides of the ramp, he hung inverted beneath the ship, rifle raised at distant Battlewings.
The Urata Battlewings looped dives and turns, harassing the brigantine. One dove right now. Incoming bullets whined past Jin-cheol. Some thudded into the hull. Legs trembled instinctively, but his stance held rock-steady. Inverted below the ship, he calmly aimed.
The Battlewing pilot slipping underneath spotted the upside-down Jin-cheol. Shock hit; he reflexively triggered his guns. Amid the cockpit vibrations, Jin-cheol's muzzle flashed like a trick shot. The canopy shattered with a crack; a hole punched through the headrest.
The Battlewing, pilot slumped, nosedived straight to the ground. The other two pilots saw, radioed frantically—no reply. Not with a face full of holes.
Jin-cheol racked the bolt blankly. Another Battlewing finished turning, charged the nose. The brigantine shook in evasion. Jin-cheol swayed but held, line taut, feet planted.
The pilot, rattled by his comrade's plunge but still hosing the brigantine, spotted Jin-cheol. He jinked the stick in panic. Canopy cracked, but bullets grazed past his head into the frame. Speed bled off in the hard turn; Maro's cannons caught him. Heavy booms followed. A wing shredded, trailing smoke as it spiraled down.
Cheers erupted from the cockpit—Maro, Dol Jumeok, Lamien. Jin-cheol grinned, racked another round.
But the last pilot learned. No more turns-and-charges; he vanished into a massive cloud. Cockpit and Jin-cheol alike lost him. The gunfire-silenced sky went deathly quiet.
Initiative swung back to them. The damaged brigantine couldn't fly forever with holes everywhere—time to land. But grounded, they'd be sitting ducks for the flying Battlewing. Jin-cheol's rifle shots worked at this range. Lamien knew; she climbed instead, buying time before drop.
Jin-cheol craned up from his perch, scanning clouds. Then—a black shape burst from one. The Battlewing spun wildly, dodging sights. It rocketed past the ship, sun glaring behind.
Sun-backed dive-bomb. Deadliest yet—blind to their aim, cockpit exposed. Lamien knew; she flipped the ship half-over, hiding the cockpit.
Jin-cheol had endured prior shakes, but not this. Snow inside slipped, yanking his line. He swung.
The black Battlewing dove straight, bullets pouring. Evasion or not, some hit. The center hull was riddled like a honeycomb, shredded.
It streaked past into clouds.
"You okay?"
Flattened against the hull, Jin-cheol peered in at Snow. She popped up, looped a line around her waist, drew a spear—from where?—jammed it into the deck, and braced. No more shaking, it said.
"...Good."
Jin-cheol righted—back to inverted. Cold high air slapped his face. Eyes locked on the cloud.
Then—gaze whipped opposite. Another cloudburst: Battlewing. Jin-cheol snapped aim, but it flashed bottom armor, canopy hidden. Wary of shots. No clear shot.
It looped behind to dodge Maro, climbing for another dive.
Then—from that cloud—a black harpoon lanced out. Grazed the tailfin. Enough: the Battlewing wobbled, losing lift.
Jin-cheol's eyes tracked the throw. A ship like theirs—older, battered—tore through clouds.
Memory sharpened; he'd seen it.
"...Air pirates?"
The Baika merchant ship to Siol—attacked by flying pirates from Sandesiya. Repelled, but their ship escaped.
Jin-cheol's gaze snapped back. Damaged Battlewing twisted midair, dropping—then lunged at the brigantine. Through the canopy: gritted Lavito teeth, stick yanked. Kamikaze.
Bullets flew. Jin-cheol raised rifle, still inverted. Strays punched holes, nicked his cheek. Aim unflinching. Sight filled: Battlewing, canopy, pilot. Steady breath; trigger squeeze. Flash—tiny hole in canopy.
The diver veered, scraping past. It glided, then tumbled to earth.
"..."
In the topsy-turvy world, Jin-cheol watched, then tugged the line. Snow hauled him in.
Untying, he scanned: wind howling through holes. Even the truck and bike pocked.
"One hell of a job. Could drop any second."
"..."
Snow sheathed her spear—collapsed rod like his fish-sword, blade and shaft extending.
"Oh, got one like that myself."
"...Seen it."
"Yeah?"
Hand dropping sheepishly from drawing his sword, Jin-cheol scratched his head, pointed forward.
"Let's check cockpit. That new ship radioed, probably."
"...Yeah."
Back in: Maro and Dol Jumeok slumped, half-dazed. No injuries, good. Lamien tweaked blaring alarms while talking into a funnel mic.
"Who? Who is it?"
"Hey, thanks for the help, but tell me your affiliation straight. Not revolutionaries?"
Jin-cheol tapped Lamien's shoulder. She glanced up mid-adjustment and radio, then placed the funnel mic in his outstretched hand.
"Looks like they're asking for me."
Instantly, a joyful voice crackled over.
Static cut, then resumed.
Familiar voices drew a natural smile from Jin-cheol.