I wake up on the ground and in pain. The radius of my wing arm has been shattered. Next to me is Josef. I hear the sounds of many people become clear as I slowly gain full awareness. I look at Josef in shock. “Werde ich wiederfliegen? ¹” I mumble.

“Yes, but never as well, my love. He shattered one of the bones in your wing.” Josef sniffs. He looks up and chuckles, “I think he’s about to get his just desserts.”

I look up and see five flights of Volantis Corps fliers as they head out toward the ocean. “Where’re Jamie and the kids? I need to see them. I need to make sure they’re ok.”

“They’re fine, Nick. I had Jamie lead them to your parents’ house. Also, was that the only flight of dragons you saw, Nick? They didn’t even look like they were in uniform.”

“They’re rogues, Josef. Drakon Thunder forty-one X-V went off the map a few years back and now they’re here ready to attack America. Did you bring the sniper?”

“Unnecessary equipment was left behind at the house. I’m sorry; I thought this was going to be purely dogfighting. Apparently I was wrong.”

RDML Adler lands a small distance away from me and says, “All flights, protect the civvies, Make sure not one dragon makes landfall,” before he walks over to me, “Damn, do you want me to have to tell Rafe that his dad’s an idiot and got himself killed?”

I laugh a little and stand up. “No, not really. I’d rather be able to go home and say I was an idiot and nearly got killed. Well, Goldilocks, what’s there for me to do?”

He shoves an AUG into my hand and says, “The M4 is at the bottom of the ocean. Take this and kill the scaly bastards.”

Both he and Josef take off and leave me there with the AUG. I check the magazine to see how much ammunition there is, a full thirty round clip. I shoulder the Austrian bull pup rifle and look through its built-in, one-and-a-half-times scope. It’s not much of a zoom, but it doesn’t need it; the rifle is designed as a close-to-midrange combat weapon. I was being used as a last line of defense. Hence, the CQC weapon with which I was left.

I wait and wait. I want to get back at the bastard who stole my agility away from me. However, the more I wait, the more I begin to realize that one fifty-dragon thunder against five full flights of highly trained Volantis Corps operatives isn’t going to stand a chance in hell. I hate that I can’t do anything and I start to sit down when I hear a thump behind me.

I stand back to full height and swing my AUG around. It gets caught by a golden brown dragon whose wing should barely hold weight because of the amount of holes in it and he rips it from my grasp. He’s about to turn it back on me, when an arrow—a fucking arrow—goes straight through his unarmored chest. I look to see whom I shall thank for saving me the trouble of dispatching the scaled assailant by my own hands. It’s a beautiful human girl. She has blonde hair and as she walks up to me I notice she has the strangest green eyes. I don’t mean strange as in the hue but as in the shape of the pupil. They look like the eyes of a cat: slit vertically. It’s only after she’s up really close that what I thought was a head band with a large bow on it, are actually two very large cat ears. “You should keep a better grip on your weapon, Captain.” She says after leaning down and grabbing my rifle off the ground and returning it to me.

“Firstly, what in the fucking hell are you doing with full hunting gear in Point Loma? Secondly, thanks for saving me some trouble in dispatching this fucker. Thirdly, how the fuck did you know that I was a captain? I am not in my uniform.”

“I can see your FOF** tag.” She answers simply.

“Huh, How the hell?” I ask, dumbfounded.

“Navy Captain Nicholas Coulter; Born fifth of October, 1992; blood type: canine, O positive…Shall I go on?”

“Who the hell are you?”

“Tech Sergeant Jamie Withers, Air Force.” She said and promptly saluted.

“Well you know me already, Ni Gozi hafos wu!” I replied and saluted back, “At ease, Tech Sergeant.”

“Thank you, sir. By the way, what the hell happened to your wing?”

“You can guess, Withers.”

“Shot. By the looks of the wing’s condition, broken avian radial bone. Average heal time: four weeks.”

“Medic?”

“Yes and no. I’ve not trained to be a field medic, but I’m a doctor.”

“I hate not being able to fly. It reminds me of my life before the ‘Event’.”

***

We continue talking for another half hour until we see the five flights returning to shore. I watch the large fleet’s six as I wait for Goldilocks. With the presence of an NCO, I want to impress. I spot the admiral spiraling down to meet us. As soon as he touches down, I snap to and shout, “Admiral on deck!”

Withers and I both salute and await the ‘At ease’ or return salute. Adler chooses to return salute. As we relax, the eagle turns his head ninety degrees roll. I chuckled, “Admiral Adler, sir, meet Technical Sergeant Jamie Withers. If it weren’t for her, well I’d be a bit more bruised and battered.”

“How so?” he replies.

I pointed to the dead dragon, with an arrow sticking out of its chest.

“An arrow?”

“Sir, I’m part of a tactical training school with the Air Force’s special operations unit. I teach how archery, whilst not as accurate or powerful as a firearm, is silent but deadly. I saw the Volantis flights head this direction on the television and by the time I got to the site, the captain here almost had himself another dose of lead.” Withers replies dutifully.

“I see. Tell me, Sergeant, why did you leave your post?”

“I left my post, because my CO told me to go. If you want, I’ll call Lt. Col. Nelson, I’m sure he’d love to skewer your ass for reprimanding one of his charges.”

“I’m sorry what was that rank? A Lt. Col.? Gonna have to do better than that honey.”

“What the fuck, Adler? Respect the woman. She just saved my life.”

“I’m giving her a hard time, Nick. I do this with every Airhead I meet. You know that they give us the same shit. Relax.”

“Fuck off, man.”

“That a request?”

“If I could fly…” I mumble angrily and turn around to head home.

Josef lands behind me and lifts me over his shoulder. I laugh and he takes me back to the shops at Point Loma. “Sie wurden alle getötet.²”

“Mhmm, tell me something I didn’t already know.”

“They said that if they failed, that the ‘Father’ would send more after us.”

“Interesting, I thought that Russians referred to Russia as the motherland…So I don’t think they’re saying another Drakon flight.”

“We’ll just have to wait and see…”

***

1. Will I fly again?

2. They were all killed.