Raven Squad

Raven Squad was caught off guard by the high wind warning. Still, Konst’s squad reacted quickly, exchanging glances over the mess table and on their feet. They ran for the hangar. The high wind warning had come out of nowhere, but they would meet it.

Konst reached his own flyer and chugged the sputtering engine into a hissing whirl before the bay doors finished opening. The high gale whistled through the area. Most flyers would be grounded in this wind. Most flyers weren’t Raven Squad.

Konst nodded to his second. She gave him a thumbs-up. Her flyer trundled into gear, training the steam behind it. Konst grinned, following her. She always had to be first into a gale.

His flyer dropped from the bay’s safety and plummeted into the air. The three remaining members of Raven Squad fell in behind them. Their flyers’ reinforced wings cut through the air, slicing into a turn, offering allowed a view of their home station sinking lower into the atmosphere as they cut upward.

Raising his hand, Konst took the lead and signaled for the other four to follow him. They pierced into the heart of the winds, angling up toward Mount Coralwynd and the base at its summit.

Splitting wails screeched through the air, and Konst looked back. His newest member, rookie Davins, flyer shook in the air, rattling as if it hadn’t been built for these winds. Konst waved frantically, signaling Davins to angle off.

The boy didn’t respond beyond a crestfallen look, apparent even through the goggles covering his face. His first mission, a bust, but the boy wisely descended.

No shade on him. Even the best flyers struggled in these winds.

Jules dropped out next. Then Vota, and Ivis.

Konst was alone with the mountain.

This was his fiftieth run. His last run. Next week he’d be reassigned from the station. Sent to a different zone on Tornavell base. A base known for ample but gentle breezes. There he’d train the next crop of rookies. The next who’d attempt to summit Coralwynd. But Konst wouldn’t give up today.

The slightest hum sung through his flyer as he drew even with snow covered stone and the trees receded behind him. Still Konst rose.

The clouds broke, and he saw the base of the summit, the silver and glass facility unlike anything they produced below. Konst pressed his hand against his flyer’s side. “Just a little further.”

The bolts rattled hard.

“Just a little further,” he repeated, locking his eyes on his goal.