"Spitfire Summer" - 3/6
Oct. 18th, 2010 08:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amine_eyesMasterpost :)
Part 2/6
Ayel sat up from his position on the ground and looked out at the pilots and technicians all lazing about, enjoying the dawn as it started to warm their uniforms. Some were busy putting bags of ice inside the Messerschmitts so that they’d be cooler for the raid later on; others were playing cards and betting on ever more unlikely scenarios. He flopped back down and placed his cap over his eyes so that he could enjoy a precious moment of sleep before the adrenaline rush that would ensue. He sighed, and then felt a weight hit his chest.
“Damn you – Sir,” he swallowed the insult he had been going to say and went for glowering at the man who had just dumped his boots on his chest. Nero flopped down next to him and smiled briefly, twisting the scar on his face as he lit a cigarette.
“You looked far too comfortable there Ayel, especially if we’re off killing in a moment,” Nero said abruptly, and Ayel sighed, looking at his commanding officer who was staring at the huddle of men in front of them now starting to do checks on the aircraft, eyes narrowed and the red tip of the cigarette glowing as he inhaled while frowning. Ayel cleared his throat, and Nero looked at him.
“Sir, you do remember the Führer’s instruction? We’re to try avoiding killing too many British, after all, we’re supposed to become Allies after this …” his voice trailed off as Nero turned to face him, disgust in his eyes.
“We will go up there, Ayel, we will kill as many as possible, and only when the British come begging on their knees for forgiveness, will we give it to them. Only that way, will we be safe. Only that way,” he said quietly, danger laced into his sentence, “will they regret killing my family.”
“Now go, make sure the aircraft are in optimum condition,” he barked out, and Ayel got up, looking at Nero who was still staring at the smudge of grey on the horizon making it known past the dawn fog that covered the English Channel. As he walked away, he ran a hand through his hair, speaking under his breath.
“Only thing is Nero, will the forgiveness come on the end of a bullet?”
-x-x-x-x-
Jim frowned as he looked up at the brightening sky, sipping his coffee thoughtfully as he watched the clouds lose the tint of grey and become as white as before. He turned and went back in the control room where Pike, Hugh and Spock were sitting along with the rest of the pilots. He looked around the room, noticing the empty seat next to Uhura and thanked God that Gaila was off duty today, and visiting relatives on the Isle of Sheppey. Something was up, and he had no idea what was going to happen.
“Sir?”
Uhura’s voice broke his reverie, and he noticed Spock’s head whip round to where Uhura was sitting, a frown upon her face as she continued to listen. The chief controller came over and looked at her screen, frowning too. Pike focused his gaze on their hushed conversation, and Jim heard Hugh mutter under his breath.
“This does not look good …”
“Squadron Leader Pike? Are there any scheduled sorties from your squadron?”
Pike shook his head. “Not that I know of … what’s on the screen?”
The chief controller gestured to Uhura and she cleared her throat.
“Nothing, sir … that’s the worrying thing. I’m not picking up any signals.”
Jim lowered his coffee mug and watched the rest of the fighter controllers switch between frequencies as they tried to sort out the problem.
“It’s like … like everything’s been knocked out …” he heard Uhura mutter and Jim’s eyes widened.
“Is that possible, Flight Sergeant?”
Spock shot him a look but Hugh shot him one back. Uhura continued listening and eventually sat back.
“I wouldn’t think it so, sir … but … is it possible to try and get the radio broadcast? We might be able to pick up more information if it’s able to be heard by everyone sir.”
The chief controller nodded, gesturing to the WAAFs by the main system who started flicking switches. Static came out of the speakers, and everyone strained their ears, trying to pick something out.
“Hugh, Spock, get the squadron ready to scramble, this isn’t looking good,” Pike said, and Hugh and Spock nodded, heading out the door. Spock turned to Pike as he got to the door.
“Is Mr Kirk coming with us sir?”
Pike looked at Jim, who had the good grace to look slightly abashed.
“Why are you here, Mr Kirk?”
“Sounded important sir.”
Pike shook his head, gesturing to the door.
“Go on, Mr Kirk, get to the squadron and help make sure that everyone is ready to go.”
Jim nodded, turning to walk towards Spock and Hugh, when Nyota held up a hand.
“Quiet! I can hear something!”
Silence fell, and scratches of conversation came out of the speakers, muffled, barely able to be heard.
“Raid … can’t … every – thing … knocked out … huge … raids … please … help …”
A giant crash and rumble came over the speakers, and it went back to static. Nyota let her hand fall from the air, and looked at the chief controller.
He swallowed, and looked at Pike. Pike nodded.
“Get everyone up there now - I want planes up in less than three minutes.”
The chief controller signalled and one of the WAAFs hit the siren, Jim, Hugh, Spock and Pike already racing out of the room and across the airfield. Jim dodged a truck careening towards the main hangers, full of techies hanging on as it roared across the roads. In front of them pilots were racing and getting in aircraft while techies hurried the bowsers out of the way of the aircraft getting ready to take off. Jim ran to his Spitfire and flung himself in his seat, rapidly running through the checks as he looked at the teddy bear already stuffed into its usual place that morning before heading to the control room. His mind flashed to Bones, and he crossed himself even as he signalled for the techie to shut the canopy.
“Please get to the shelter, Bones,” he whispered, and then lost himself to the final checks even as the techies removed the chocks and got out of the way, letting Jim rumble forward as he quickly ran through the instruments, watching out of the other aircraft taking off around him, and surging into the sky, starting to look for whatever enemy might be out there.
-x-x-x-x-x-
Nero looked down and saw the White Cliffs pass underneath his wings, plumes of smoke already rising up from where the radar masts had been. Tracers still fell through the air, and he easily yawed his plane as he avoided any damage to his aircraft. He carried on, seeing bursts of fire from various crashed planes even from the height they were at, and he laughed down the radio.
“See what fight we are given gentlemen!”
Answering laughter came from the horde of planes surrounding him, and Nero grinned, looking ahead.
“Not long now Mandana, not long till the British regret killing you and our child …” he whispered, watching the countless planes around him follow his lead, and laughed even louder.
-x-x-x-x-
Leonard stood up and stretched, signalling to the nurse walking over.
“Sister Chapel, I’m just heading out for a quick moment, I’ll be back in a moment,” he said, and Chapel nodded, carrying on to the patient in the bed and sitting down next to him.
“So, Corporal, how do we feel this morning?”
Leonard walked outside and stood in the sunshine, looking out at the deserted airfield and the deserted sky. He looked at the quiet airfield and frowned, thinking back to Jim’s words the night before.
“Chapel … how close is the nearest shelter?” He called back, and Chapel’s voice drifted out of the open door.
“Fifteen feet, sir. Why?”
Leonard looked up at the clear sky, only marked by the streams of white the leaving aircraft must have left, and he bit his lip.
“A hunch … start getting the patients that can walk to it please.”
“On it, sir.”
Chapel’s voice could be heard cajoling patients up and out of the Med-centre and Leonard continued to look up at the sky, and he whispered quietly.
“You better be wrong, Jim …”
He looked, and saw black dots appear in the sky, and a droning filled the air. One of the patients walking past stopped and looked up, eyes widening.
“Those aren’t Spitfires, sir!”
The black dots grew larger, the droning grew louder, and from the shapes, black shapes started falling.
“Shit!” Leonard swore, running inside.
“Everyone, get down!”
The sirens of the airfield whined into life just as the shapes turned into bombers and the dots started to hit the ground, the crump of the air growing closer as plumes of smoke and fire and earth flung into the air. People started running, and the buildings started shaking as Leonard threw himself on the ground by the corner of the building just as the first bombs hit the station itself.
Screams, roars of engines overhead, all combined with the thumps and sound of flying debris, and Leonard worked his way closer to the patients on the floor, yelling that they were going to be alright, but no one could hear him over the pandemonium.
-x-x-x-x-x-
“Shit shit shit shit shit!!!” Jim screamed as he spun his aircraft into a desperate dive, head thumping as he tried frantically to escape the Messerschmitt on his tail. A thud and a bang, and it carried on past him, while Hugh’s plane flew past with a deafening roar.
“Come on Jim! Try to stay alive!” Hugh yelled down the mike and Jim rolled his eyes as he reached for the comms button.
“I can’t help it if someone’s trying to kill me!”
“Well, if you -” a flash of tracer, and flames appeared on Hugh’s Spitfire, the nose dropping as it spiralled down and down.
“No!!” Jim flew down as fast as he could, hoping that at any moment Hugh would appear, would jump out of the aircraft and drift to safety on his parachute.
“Jim! On your left!” screamed Dawson, and Jim spun round, Hugh forgotten as he shot at the plane going past, one eye still on Hugh’s plane as it grew closer to the ground, and no parachute came out.
“No …” he whispered, and something crashed into the back of him and sent him flying forward, hitting his head on the cockpit glass.
“Fuck!” He blinked as his head thudded back into his seat, climbing high as he quickly put a hand to his forehead, feeling wetness on his fingers. He took them away and swore again, seeing the red against his skin and seeing the splash of red on the cockpit instruments. He threw his Spitfire up and into the blue, looking for the rest of his squadron, anyone. The teddy bear fell out of the gap between the instruments and cockpit, and Jim’s blood run cold, noticing the blood that had got onto it as it fell onto the floor.
“No, it’s not my time to die!” he yelled, and flung his aircraft round so that he could join in the fight raging below him. He swooped down, firing at the enemy and swinging round after his squadron pilots who had various planes stuck on their tail, thumbing the fire button with fierce concentration and hoping that the next bit of tracer flying around wouldn’t signal the bullet with his name on.
Cries and yells for aid filled the airwaves, and the sky was full of blurs even as Spock ordered everyone to fall back, even as the Luftwaffe peeled off and started heading east towards safety. Jim forced his hands to stop shaking as he swung round and headed for home, counting the planes in front and behind, feeling his head start to ache as he noted the small number of planes flying around him.
“Red squadron, Alpha Charlie, Alpha Charlie,” called Spock over the radio, and Jim reflexively answered, his mind starting to wonder why Pike hadn’t been the one calling them to retreat, calling them to check in. He scanned the sky, and noticed that Pike’s plane wasn’t there.
They came to Hugh and Jim swallowed, barely recognising his own voice as he spoke.
“He got shot down; I didn’t see him bale out before it hit the ground.”
He heard Spock swear down the mike and restrained asking Spock if he was alright. Jim spoke again.
“Where’s Pike?”
Silence fell, and Spock’s voice came back over the mike, thick with emotion.
“He was shot down … he may have survived, it cannot be made certain. For now, let us get back to Biggin Hill and ascertain the rest of the damage caused today.”
The rest of the squadron spoke their acceptance and the airwaves fell silent, letting Jim look in the rear-view mirror that was installed. He ran a hand over his head and bit his lip, looking at the long scratch on his forehead, blood already crusting around the edges. He run a hand over his helmet, and cleaned the instruments so he could actually read them.
“Shit … look at Biggin Hill …” came over the radio and Jim looked forward at the plumes of smoke disguising the distinctive pattern of the runways.
“Bones …” Jim whispered and flew on, praying silently that he was okay.
-x-x-x-x-x-
Jim leaned back with a sigh as he unbuckled himself, the techie outside opening the canopy. He levered himself out, and swore as he looked out at the devastation.
“Fuck …”
“Pretty much, sir,” replied the techie, and he jumped down. Jim followed him and swallowed. All around one could hear the crackle of flames and the sound of screeching tyres of the fire engines making their way to the fires closer to the fuel and ammunition dumps. People ran to and fro, and Jim started walking forward, picking up speed when he saw the white coat of one of the medical staff trying to lift an injured member of the station onto the stretcher. Jim got there and placed his hands underneath the man, recoiling at the feeling of blood on his fingertips and the medic smiled gratefully, getting him up onto the stretcher and signalling to Jim to grab the other end. Jim did so, ignoring the protest of his muscles as he helped carry the guy over to the waiting truck. As the guy was pushed on the truck, the medic clambered up and Jim grabbed his arm.
“Is Doctor McCoy okay?”
The medic wiped his brow and looked down at Jim.
“He was alive earlier, I honestly don’t know now. Get to the med-centre yourself!”
He banged on the side of the truck and it rumbled off, the medic bending down to comfort the injured. Jim turned and looked out at the station and the number of injured personnel and tore off his jacket, running to put it into an empty truck along with the teddy bear.
“Keep it safe,” he told the driver, and then started jogging towards the other injured personnel, hoping that there was something he could do.
-x-x-x-x-x-
Leonard leaned up and cracked his back, and wiping his brow with his hand as he started walking to the next patient. He got halfway across when Chapel waylaid him with a look in her eye that meant business.
“Doctor, you told me to tell you when Jim came in.”
Leonard blinked and stepped closer.
“Where is he?”
“In your office, he had a scratch on his head but otherwise he’s fine …” Chapel’s voice trailed off as Leonard spun round and went to his office. She sighed, and turned around to visit the patient that Leonard had been on his way to.
Leonard quickly walked to his office and opened the door, letting out a deep breath when Jim grinned at him
“Told you I’d get back, Bones.”
“You couldn’t have come back earlier?” said Leonard even as he stepped forward and lifted Jim’s head so that he could see the scrape on his head. Jim raised his eyebrow in response and winced at the pull on the scrape.
“I would have, but you were in surgery with Pike … how is he?”
Leonard twisted his lip and looked at Jim. Satisfied that Jim wasn’t going to collapse straight away, he sat down and rubbed at his eyes.
“He’s alive … for now. He won’t be flying again though, his back is literally shot to pieces, and it’s touch and go whether he makes it through the night. As for the rest of the station … I don’t even know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”
Jim sighed in relief and came to sit next to Leonard.
“At least he’s still alive; I thought he had died, along with Hugh, Richard, Michael … and Gaila.”
Leonard looked up.
“Gaila? But she was -”
“I know, but they were near the Dockyard, and the Germans bombed it. Apparently she died instantly …” Jim’s voice trailed off, and Leonard didn’t even think of it, he gathered Jim into his arms, ignoring the little voice in his head that told him how this would look to the outside world. There are more important things than facing the disgust again, he told himself.
“Hey, it’s not your fault …”
Even with Jim’s head turned away, Leonard knew there was a determined look on his face.
“I know, but that doesn’t make it right.”
He sighed heavily, and rested his weight on Leonard’s shoulder.
“I just need to rest for a moment …” he said quietly, and Leonard didn’t move, let Jim’s breathing settle slightly as his own heart pounded at the closeness.
“Just promise you’ll come back,” he whispered, and he felt Jim’s hand pat his leg in acknowledgement of Leonard’s voiced fear.
“I promise, Bones … I promise.”
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Jim looked out the window at the uproar outside and turned back to where Spock was standing with his arms folded, still looking out the other window at what had happened to the station. The rest of the squadron looked at each other, counting the various injuries that everyone had collected from the fight and the relief effort on the station. Jim’s eyelids drooped as his body reminded him that he had been going since four 'o' clock that morning, but Jim blinked furiously. They still had a long way to go yet before he could sleep. Blinking furiously, Dawson looked at them and spoke – a hint of fear in his voice.
“So what happens now? Sir?” He looked at Spock, the highest ranked officer in the room. Spock jerked back, eyes drifting over the few that had managed to survive. He drew in a breath, and Jim stepped forward, concern in his eyes.
“Squadron Leader Pike is under observation, but is unlikely to fly again due to the extent of his injuries. Flight Lieutenant Douglas was killed in action, along with many other fine members of this squadron …” his voice trailed off, and the room fell into silence as everyone remembered all the ones who had died in that day’s raid.
Spock coughed, and brought everyone to attention.
“As the XO, I shall remain in charge of the squadron until Squadron Leader Pike recovers to take over my duties. I shall also promote Flying Officer Dawson and Flying Office Kirk to the IC posts of A and B Flight, your ranks will change to Flight Lieutenant once the Station Commander has time to award you your new ranks. As the Officer Mess has been destroyed, if …” Spock shuddered slightly, and then continued, “if you have anyone in the village you are able to billet with, I would highly suggest you do so, otherwise you’ll be sleeping in a tent until it is able to rebuilt. With priorities being the damaged runways, hangers and medical centre, focus shall remain on repairing them. All I have to say is …” Spock looked around the room, and Jim noticed a small twitch in his hand.
“If you are able to help with the recovery effort then do so, otherwise, it would be sensible for you to sleep so that we are able to fly properly tomorrow. That is all, gentlemen.”
The room came to attention and started to file out, Dawson nodding at Jim as they passed each other, in acknowledgement of their change in status. Jim watched the rest of the squadron file out, and walked over to where Spock was, watching the trucks rumble along the roads.
“Spock?”
“Flight Lieutenant Kirk.”
Jim took a step closer, and watched Spock’s face.
“Are … are you okay, sir?”
“About you becoming a flight lieutenant? I would prefer,” Spock turned to face Jim, his face rigid, “that you remained a flying officer until you learnt the correct respect for the rank structure and the RAF itself, but … we cannot have what we want. You are the best flyer; it is only natural that in these times, you should lead your flight. However, Flight Lieutenant Kirk,”
Spock looked at Jim, and he felt a shiver go up his spine. Spock continued.
“However Flight Lieutenant Kirk, if you question my orders in public again, the consequences will be severe.”
Spock turned back to the window, resting his hands upon the ledge.
Jim swallowed, and spoke.
“Fair enough, sir, but … I was asking whether you were okay after today.”
Spock didn’t turn to face Jim.
“I am well enough to continue … things could have been worse, some of my friends are not injured -”
“Like Flight Sergeant Uhura?”
Spock turned his head sharply and Jim made a placating gesture with his hands.
“You two are friends, aren’t you?”
Spock relaxed a tiny amount, and nodded.
“Yes … she,” he turned back to the window and Jim saw his hands relax slightly so that the knuckles weren’t as white as before, “she is in an acceptable condition …” he whispered.
“That’s good … are your family okay?”
“It is none of your concern, Mr Kirk, though I thank you for it. Now … perhaps you should make sure you have somewhere to sleep for the coming nights.”
“Spock, if something’s happened then -”
“Good bye, Mr Kirk.”
Jim sighed and headed off, looking at Spock’s still-white knuckles. He hesitated, and spoke quietly.
“If … if you wanna talk …”
“I am fine, Flight Lieutenant … please leave.”
Jim nodded slowly, and headed out of the door. Spock stayed rigid, his knuckles still white against the blue of the windowsill, and he blinked, looking out at the planes being towed past the window.
“I am … I’m so sorry, Mother …” he whispered, staring out the window, watching the planes with un-seeing eyes.
-x-x-x-x-
“Jim? I thought I sent you to the Mess?”
Jim shrugged as he walked over, sitting on the edge of Leonard’s desk, wincing slightly at the action as he did.
“Yeah, about that … we don’t actually have a Mess at the moment, got bombed to bits …”
Leonard blinked and looked at him.
“Oh …”
Jim shuffled on the desk, and Leonard rolled his eyes without thinking, poking him in the side.
“Hey! Bones, that hurt!”
“That’ll teach you for sitting on my desk, now … do you have somewhere to sleep?”
“Well, no. That’s kinda what I came to ask … could … I … well …”
“I have a spare room, you could borrow, if you want,” Leonard said, and Jim smiled a small smile, blinking as he did so.
“Yeah … can I? I’ll pay for food and the various bills don’t worry about that, but I kinda -”
Leonard waved him off and Jim fell silent. He pointed a finger at Jim’s chest and looked stern.
“No stealing all the food.”
Jim’s smile grew as he drew a cross over his heart.
“Promise, Bones.”
“Well … that’s … that’s okay, then.”
“Good … in that case, I’ll grab my bag from outside, and we can go to yours and we can,” Jim covered his mouth with his hand as he yawned, Leonard reflexively doing the same, “both get some sleep.”
Leonard nodded, and then realised what Jim had said.
“Hang on, what?”
Jim stood up and narrowed his eyes at him, swaying slightly from exhaustion.
“Bones … you’ve been on surgeries and such all day, you need to rest. Chapel’s already told me to get you out of here. Now, you can come the easy way, or the hard way.”
“Do I get to choose?” Leonard replied with a raised eyebrow.
“Nope – we’re doing it the easy way, namely, that you get up and grab your coat, and walk out that door until we reach your house, where you’ll point me in the direction of the bathroom and bed, and go to sleep yourself.” “Now …” Jim held out his hand, “are you coming with me Bones?”
“Not like I have a choice …” Leonard muttered, but he took Jim’s hand and hauled himself up, both of them walking out slowly, unable to move any faster.
-x-x-x-x-x-
Part 4/6
Part 2/6
Ayel sat up from his position on the ground and looked out at the pilots and technicians all lazing about, enjoying the dawn as it started to warm their uniforms. Some were busy putting bags of ice inside the Messerschmitts so that they’d be cooler for the raid later on; others were playing cards and betting on ever more unlikely scenarios. He flopped back down and placed his cap over his eyes so that he could enjoy a precious moment of sleep before the adrenaline rush that would ensue. He sighed, and then felt a weight hit his chest.
“Damn you – Sir,” he swallowed the insult he had been going to say and went for glowering at the man who had just dumped his boots on his chest. Nero flopped down next to him and smiled briefly, twisting the scar on his face as he lit a cigarette.
“You looked far too comfortable there Ayel, especially if we’re off killing in a moment,” Nero said abruptly, and Ayel sighed, looking at his commanding officer who was staring at the huddle of men in front of them now starting to do checks on the aircraft, eyes narrowed and the red tip of the cigarette glowing as he inhaled while frowning. Ayel cleared his throat, and Nero looked at him.
“Sir, you do remember the Führer’s instruction? We’re to try avoiding killing too many British, after all, we’re supposed to become Allies after this …” his voice trailed off as Nero turned to face him, disgust in his eyes.
“We will go up there, Ayel, we will kill as many as possible, and only when the British come begging on their knees for forgiveness, will we give it to them. Only that way, will we be safe. Only that way,” he said quietly, danger laced into his sentence, “will they regret killing my family.”
“Now go, make sure the aircraft are in optimum condition,” he barked out, and Ayel got up, looking at Nero who was still staring at the smudge of grey on the horizon making it known past the dawn fog that covered the English Channel. As he walked away, he ran a hand through his hair, speaking under his breath.
“Only thing is Nero, will the forgiveness come on the end of a bullet?”
-x-x-x-x-
Jim frowned as he looked up at the brightening sky, sipping his coffee thoughtfully as he watched the clouds lose the tint of grey and become as white as before. He turned and went back in the control room where Pike, Hugh and Spock were sitting along with the rest of the pilots. He looked around the room, noticing the empty seat next to Uhura and thanked God that Gaila was off duty today, and visiting relatives on the Isle of Sheppey. Something was up, and he had no idea what was going to happen.
“Sir?”
Uhura’s voice broke his reverie, and he noticed Spock’s head whip round to where Uhura was sitting, a frown upon her face as she continued to listen. The chief controller came over and looked at her screen, frowning too. Pike focused his gaze on their hushed conversation, and Jim heard Hugh mutter under his breath.
“This does not look good …”
“Squadron Leader Pike? Are there any scheduled sorties from your squadron?”
Pike shook his head. “Not that I know of … what’s on the screen?”
The chief controller gestured to Uhura and she cleared her throat.
“Nothing, sir … that’s the worrying thing. I’m not picking up any signals.”
Jim lowered his coffee mug and watched the rest of the fighter controllers switch between frequencies as they tried to sort out the problem.
“It’s like … like everything’s been knocked out …” he heard Uhura mutter and Jim’s eyes widened.
“Is that possible, Flight Sergeant?”
Spock shot him a look but Hugh shot him one back. Uhura continued listening and eventually sat back.
“I wouldn’t think it so, sir … but … is it possible to try and get the radio broadcast? We might be able to pick up more information if it’s able to be heard by everyone sir.”
The chief controller nodded, gesturing to the WAAFs by the main system who started flicking switches. Static came out of the speakers, and everyone strained their ears, trying to pick something out.
“Hugh, Spock, get the squadron ready to scramble, this isn’t looking good,” Pike said, and Hugh and Spock nodded, heading out the door. Spock turned to Pike as he got to the door.
“Is Mr Kirk coming with us sir?”
Pike looked at Jim, who had the good grace to look slightly abashed.
“Why are you here, Mr Kirk?”
“Sounded important sir.”
Pike shook his head, gesturing to the door.
“Go on, Mr Kirk, get to the squadron and help make sure that everyone is ready to go.”
Jim nodded, turning to walk towards Spock and Hugh, when Nyota held up a hand.
“Quiet! I can hear something!”
Silence fell, and scratches of conversation came out of the speakers, muffled, barely able to be heard.
“Raid … can’t … every – thing … knocked out … huge … raids … please … help …”
A giant crash and rumble came over the speakers, and it went back to static. Nyota let her hand fall from the air, and looked at the chief controller.
He swallowed, and looked at Pike. Pike nodded.
“Get everyone up there now - I want planes up in less than three minutes.”
The chief controller signalled and one of the WAAFs hit the siren, Jim, Hugh, Spock and Pike already racing out of the room and across the airfield. Jim dodged a truck careening towards the main hangers, full of techies hanging on as it roared across the roads. In front of them pilots were racing and getting in aircraft while techies hurried the bowsers out of the way of the aircraft getting ready to take off. Jim ran to his Spitfire and flung himself in his seat, rapidly running through the checks as he looked at the teddy bear already stuffed into its usual place that morning before heading to the control room. His mind flashed to Bones, and he crossed himself even as he signalled for the techie to shut the canopy.
“Please get to the shelter, Bones,” he whispered, and then lost himself to the final checks even as the techies removed the chocks and got out of the way, letting Jim rumble forward as he quickly ran through the instruments, watching out of the other aircraft taking off around him, and surging into the sky, starting to look for whatever enemy might be out there.
-x-x-x-x-x-
Nero looked down and saw the White Cliffs pass underneath his wings, plumes of smoke already rising up from where the radar masts had been. Tracers still fell through the air, and he easily yawed his plane as he avoided any damage to his aircraft. He carried on, seeing bursts of fire from various crashed planes even from the height they were at, and he laughed down the radio.
“See what fight we are given gentlemen!”
Answering laughter came from the horde of planes surrounding him, and Nero grinned, looking ahead.
“Not long now Mandana, not long till the British regret killing you and our child …” he whispered, watching the countless planes around him follow his lead, and laughed even louder.
-x-x-x-x-
Leonard stood up and stretched, signalling to the nurse walking over.
“Sister Chapel, I’m just heading out for a quick moment, I’ll be back in a moment,” he said, and Chapel nodded, carrying on to the patient in the bed and sitting down next to him.
“So, Corporal, how do we feel this morning?”
Leonard walked outside and stood in the sunshine, looking out at the deserted airfield and the deserted sky. He looked at the quiet airfield and frowned, thinking back to Jim’s words the night before.
“Chapel … how close is the nearest shelter?” He called back, and Chapel’s voice drifted out of the open door.
“Fifteen feet, sir. Why?”
Leonard looked up at the clear sky, only marked by the streams of white the leaving aircraft must have left, and he bit his lip.
“A hunch … start getting the patients that can walk to it please.”
“On it, sir.”
Chapel’s voice could be heard cajoling patients up and out of the Med-centre and Leonard continued to look up at the sky, and he whispered quietly.
“You better be wrong, Jim …”
He looked, and saw black dots appear in the sky, and a droning filled the air. One of the patients walking past stopped and looked up, eyes widening.
“Those aren’t Spitfires, sir!”
The black dots grew larger, the droning grew louder, and from the shapes, black shapes started falling.
“Shit!” Leonard swore, running inside.
“Everyone, get down!”
The sirens of the airfield whined into life just as the shapes turned into bombers and the dots started to hit the ground, the crump of the air growing closer as plumes of smoke and fire and earth flung into the air. People started running, and the buildings started shaking as Leonard threw himself on the ground by the corner of the building just as the first bombs hit the station itself.
Screams, roars of engines overhead, all combined with the thumps and sound of flying debris, and Leonard worked his way closer to the patients on the floor, yelling that they were going to be alright, but no one could hear him over the pandemonium.
-x-x-x-x-x-
“Shit shit shit shit shit!!!” Jim screamed as he spun his aircraft into a desperate dive, head thumping as he tried frantically to escape the Messerschmitt on his tail. A thud and a bang, and it carried on past him, while Hugh’s plane flew past with a deafening roar.
“Come on Jim! Try to stay alive!” Hugh yelled down the mike and Jim rolled his eyes as he reached for the comms button.
“I can’t help it if someone’s trying to kill me!”
“Well, if you -” a flash of tracer, and flames appeared on Hugh’s Spitfire, the nose dropping as it spiralled down and down.
“No!!” Jim flew down as fast as he could, hoping that at any moment Hugh would appear, would jump out of the aircraft and drift to safety on his parachute.
“Jim! On your left!” screamed Dawson, and Jim spun round, Hugh forgotten as he shot at the plane going past, one eye still on Hugh’s plane as it grew closer to the ground, and no parachute came out.
“No …” he whispered, and something crashed into the back of him and sent him flying forward, hitting his head on the cockpit glass.
“Fuck!” He blinked as his head thudded back into his seat, climbing high as he quickly put a hand to his forehead, feeling wetness on his fingers. He took them away and swore again, seeing the red against his skin and seeing the splash of red on the cockpit instruments. He threw his Spitfire up and into the blue, looking for the rest of his squadron, anyone. The teddy bear fell out of the gap between the instruments and cockpit, and Jim’s blood run cold, noticing the blood that had got onto it as it fell onto the floor.
“No, it’s not my time to die!” he yelled, and flung his aircraft round so that he could join in the fight raging below him. He swooped down, firing at the enemy and swinging round after his squadron pilots who had various planes stuck on their tail, thumbing the fire button with fierce concentration and hoping that the next bit of tracer flying around wouldn’t signal the bullet with his name on.
Cries and yells for aid filled the airwaves, and the sky was full of blurs even as Spock ordered everyone to fall back, even as the Luftwaffe peeled off and started heading east towards safety. Jim forced his hands to stop shaking as he swung round and headed for home, counting the planes in front and behind, feeling his head start to ache as he noted the small number of planes flying around him.
“Red squadron, Alpha Charlie, Alpha Charlie,” called Spock over the radio, and Jim reflexively answered, his mind starting to wonder why Pike hadn’t been the one calling them to retreat, calling them to check in. He scanned the sky, and noticed that Pike’s plane wasn’t there.
They came to Hugh and Jim swallowed, barely recognising his own voice as he spoke.
“He got shot down; I didn’t see him bale out before it hit the ground.”
He heard Spock swear down the mike and restrained asking Spock if he was alright. Jim spoke again.
“Where’s Pike?”
Silence fell, and Spock’s voice came back over the mike, thick with emotion.
“He was shot down … he may have survived, it cannot be made certain. For now, let us get back to Biggin Hill and ascertain the rest of the damage caused today.”
The rest of the squadron spoke their acceptance and the airwaves fell silent, letting Jim look in the rear-view mirror that was installed. He ran a hand over his head and bit his lip, looking at the long scratch on his forehead, blood already crusting around the edges. He run a hand over his helmet, and cleaned the instruments so he could actually read them.
“Shit … look at Biggin Hill …” came over the radio and Jim looked forward at the plumes of smoke disguising the distinctive pattern of the runways.
“Bones …” Jim whispered and flew on, praying silently that he was okay.
-x-x-x-x-x-
Jim leaned back with a sigh as he unbuckled himself, the techie outside opening the canopy. He levered himself out, and swore as he looked out at the devastation.
“Fuck …”
“Pretty much, sir,” replied the techie, and he jumped down. Jim followed him and swallowed. All around one could hear the crackle of flames and the sound of screeching tyres of the fire engines making their way to the fires closer to the fuel and ammunition dumps. People ran to and fro, and Jim started walking forward, picking up speed when he saw the white coat of one of the medical staff trying to lift an injured member of the station onto the stretcher. Jim got there and placed his hands underneath the man, recoiling at the feeling of blood on his fingertips and the medic smiled gratefully, getting him up onto the stretcher and signalling to Jim to grab the other end. Jim did so, ignoring the protest of his muscles as he helped carry the guy over to the waiting truck. As the guy was pushed on the truck, the medic clambered up and Jim grabbed his arm.
“Is Doctor McCoy okay?”
The medic wiped his brow and looked down at Jim.
“He was alive earlier, I honestly don’t know now. Get to the med-centre yourself!”
He banged on the side of the truck and it rumbled off, the medic bending down to comfort the injured. Jim turned and looked out at the station and the number of injured personnel and tore off his jacket, running to put it into an empty truck along with the teddy bear.
“Keep it safe,” he told the driver, and then started jogging towards the other injured personnel, hoping that there was something he could do.
-x-x-x-x-x-
Leonard leaned up and cracked his back, and wiping his brow with his hand as he started walking to the next patient. He got halfway across when Chapel waylaid him with a look in her eye that meant business.
“Doctor, you told me to tell you when Jim came in.”
Leonard blinked and stepped closer.
“Where is he?”
“In your office, he had a scratch on his head but otherwise he’s fine …” Chapel’s voice trailed off as Leonard spun round and went to his office. She sighed, and turned around to visit the patient that Leonard had been on his way to.
Leonard quickly walked to his office and opened the door, letting out a deep breath when Jim grinned at him
“Told you I’d get back, Bones.”
“You couldn’t have come back earlier?” said Leonard even as he stepped forward and lifted Jim’s head so that he could see the scrape on his head. Jim raised his eyebrow in response and winced at the pull on the scrape.
“I would have, but you were in surgery with Pike … how is he?”
Leonard twisted his lip and looked at Jim. Satisfied that Jim wasn’t going to collapse straight away, he sat down and rubbed at his eyes.
“He’s alive … for now. He won’t be flying again though, his back is literally shot to pieces, and it’s touch and go whether he makes it through the night. As for the rest of the station … I don’t even know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”
Jim sighed in relief and came to sit next to Leonard.
“At least he’s still alive; I thought he had died, along with Hugh, Richard, Michael … and Gaila.”
Leonard looked up.
“Gaila? But she was -”
“I know, but they were near the Dockyard, and the Germans bombed it. Apparently she died instantly …” Jim’s voice trailed off, and Leonard didn’t even think of it, he gathered Jim into his arms, ignoring the little voice in his head that told him how this would look to the outside world. There are more important things than facing the disgust again, he told himself.
“Hey, it’s not your fault …”
Even with Jim’s head turned away, Leonard knew there was a determined look on his face.
“I know, but that doesn’t make it right.”
He sighed heavily, and rested his weight on Leonard’s shoulder.
“I just need to rest for a moment …” he said quietly, and Leonard didn’t move, let Jim’s breathing settle slightly as his own heart pounded at the closeness.
“Just promise you’ll come back,” he whispered, and he felt Jim’s hand pat his leg in acknowledgement of Leonard’s voiced fear.
“I promise, Bones … I promise.”
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Jim looked out the window at the uproar outside and turned back to where Spock was standing with his arms folded, still looking out the other window at what had happened to the station. The rest of the squadron looked at each other, counting the various injuries that everyone had collected from the fight and the relief effort on the station. Jim’s eyelids drooped as his body reminded him that he had been going since four 'o' clock that morning, but Jim blinked furiously. They still had a long way to go yet before he could sleep. Blinking furiously, Dawson looked at them and spoke – a hint of fear in his voice.
“So what happens now? Sir?” He looked at Spock, the highest ranked officer in the room. Spock jerked back, eyes drifting over the few that had managed to survive. He drew in a breath, and Jim stepped forward, concern in his eyes.
“Squadron Leader Pike is under observation, but is unlikely to fly again due to the extent of his injuries. Flight Lieutenant Douglas was killed in action, along with many other fine members of this squadron …” his voice trailed off, and the room fell into silence as everyone remembered all the ones who had died in that day’s raid.
Spock coughed, and brought everyone to attention.
“As the XO, I shall remain in charge of the squadron until Squadron Leader Pike recovers to take over my duties. I shall also promote Flying Officer Dawson and Flying Office Kirk to the IC posts of A and B Flight, your ranks will change to Flight Lieutenant once the Station Commander has time to award you your new ranks. As the Officer Mess has been destroyed, if …” Spock shuddered slightly, and then continued, “if you have anyone in the village you are able to billet with, I would highly suggest you do so, otherwise you’ll be sleeping in a tent until it is able to rebuilt. With priorities being the damaged runways, hangers and medical centre, focus shall remain on repairing them. All I have to say is …” Spock looked around the room, and Jim noticed a small twitch in his hand.
“If you are able to help with the recovery effort then do so, otherwise, it would be sensible for you to sleep so that we are able to fly properly tomorrow. That is all, gentlemen.”
The room came to attention and started to file out, Dawson nodding at Jim as they passed each other, in acknowledgement of their change in status. Jim watched the rest of the squadron file out, and walked over to where Spock was, watching the trucks rumble along the roads.
“Spock?”
“Flight Lieutenant Kirk.”
Jim took a step closer, and watched Spock’s face.
“Are … are you okay, sir?”
“About you becoming a flight lieutenant? I would prefer,” Spock turned to face Jim, his face rigid, “that you remained a flying officer until you learnt the correct respect for the rank structure and the RAF itself, but … we cannot have what we want. You are the best flyer; it is only natural that in these times, you should lead your flight. However, Flight Lieutenant Kirk,”
Spock looked at Jim, and he felt a shiver go up his spine. Spock continued.
“However Flight Lieutenant Kirk, if you question my orders in public again, the consequences will be severe.”
Spock turned back to the window, resting his hands upon the ledge.
Jim swallowed, and spoke.
“Fair enough, sir, but … I was asking whether you were okay after today.”
Spock didn’t turn to face Jim.
“I am well enough to continue … things could have been worse, some of my friends are not injured -”
“Like Flight Sergeant Uhura?”
Spock turned his head sharply and Jim made a placating gesture with his hands.
“You two are friends, aren’t you?”
Spock relaxed a tiny amount, and nodded.
“Yes … she,” he turned back to the window and Jim saw his hands relax slightly so that the knuckles weren’t as white as before, “she is in an acceptable condition …” he whispered.
“That’s good … are your family okay?”
“It is none of your concern, Mr Kirk, though I thank you for it. Now … perhaps you should make sure you have somewhere to sleep for the coming nights.”
“Spock, if something’s happened then -”
“Good bye, Mr Kirk.”
Jim sighed and headed off, looking at Spock’s still-white knuckles. He hesitated, and spoke quietly.
“If … if you wanna talk …”
“I am fine, Flight Lieutenant … please leave.”
Jim nodded slowly, and headed out of the door. Spock stayed rigid, his knuckles still white against the blue of the windowsill, and he blinked, looking out at the planes being towed past the window.
“I am … I’m so sorry, Mother …” he whispered, staring out the window, watching the planes with un-seeing eyes.
-x-x-x-x-
“Jim? I thought I sent you to the Mess?”
Jim shrugged as he walked over, sitting on the edge of Leonard’s desk, wincing slightly at the action as he did.
“Yeah, about that … we don’t actually have a Mess at the moment, got bombed to bits …”
Leonard blinked and looked at him.
“Oh …”
Jim shuffled on the desk, and Leonard rolled his eyes without thinking, poking him in the side.
“Hey! Bones, that hurt!”
“That’ll teach you for sitting on my desk, now … do you have somewhere to sleep?”
“Well, no. That’s kinda what I came to ask … could … I … well …”
“I have a spare room, you could borrow, if you want,” Leonard said, and Jim smiled a small smile, blinking as he did so.
“Yeah … can I? I’ll pay for food and the various bills don’t worry about that, but I kinda -”
Leonard waved him off and Jim fell silent. He pointed a finger at Jim’s chest and looked stern.
“No stealing all the food.”
Jim’s smile grew as he drew a cross over his heart.
“Promise, Bones.”
“Well … that’s … that’s okay, then.”
“Good … in that case, I’ll grab my bag from outside, and we can go to yours and we can,” Jim covered his mouth with his hand as he yawned, Leonard reflexively doing the same, “both get some sleep.”
Leonard nodded, and then realised what Jim had said.
“Hang on, what?”
Jim stood up and narrowed his eyes at him, swaying slightly from exhaustion.
“Bones … you’ve been on surgeries and such all day, you need to rest. Chapel’s already told me to get you out of here. Now, you can come the easy way, or the hard way.”
“Do I get to choose?” Leonard replied with a raised eyebrow.
“Nope – we’re doing it the easy way, namely, that you get up and grab your coat, and walk out that door until we reach your house, where you’ll point me in the direction of the bathroom and bed, and go to sleep yourself.” “Now …” Jim held out his hand, “are you coming with me Bones?”
“Not like I have a choice …” Leonard muttered, but he took Jim’s hand and hauled himself up, both of them walking out slowly, unable to move any faster.
-x-x-x-x-x-
Part 4/6
Great topic :)
Date: 2011-04-25 01:57 am (UTC)Anete Kuree
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