A/N: This is my first fan fiction, so please tell me what you all think.
Chapter 1: A New Dawn
With the morning sky and the quickness of the wind whipping across my canopy, I felt better than ever! But, truth be told, I was scared out of my mind. This war (The newspapers have been calling it World War 2 for quite a while now) has been the most technologically advanced, with better tanks, airplanes making their glorious debut onto the world stage. I lucky lived a high-life, with my father being a triple ace in the Great War. He took his time and taught me everything a lass like me needed to know about airplanes from combat maneuvers to maintenance of the engine and control systems.
"Ah, I truly miss those days," I said to myself "and if only father hadn't broken his leg that night, he would've taken me to the school dance when I was younger." I stopped myself there, because reminiscing on unfortunate events won't help me survive the coming battles to be fought and the blood that will have to be shed to end this unforgiving and hellish madness.
Back before I became a pilot for the RAF, I was just a young teenage girl, living in Manchester, with a dream of finding that special kind of guy to settle down with. But that changed when Hitler and his Nazi friends decided to invade Poland for kicks. Oh no, we wouldn't let a Jerry try and take over again, not after the last time.
So with the British blood coursing in me boiling like a kettle of tea, I had my father write a recommendation and send it in to Fighter Command headquarters, with my father and I wanting to see how I did in actual combat, though my mother was none too pleased after she found out I signed up. But it didn't matter at the time, because I was going to defend our home and way of living with my life, if needed.
As I winged over to start my journey back to my base, RAF Biggen Hill to be exact, I switched on my headset and started to listen idly to the radio chatter. Most of it was just general talk and procedures by the other patrolling aircraft in the sky and the radar towers and spotters on the ground. This combination proved to be a solid line of defense when the Battle of Britain was raging just three years ago, which I was apart of and scored 9 kills verses the Luftwaffe, bringing the total to fourteen and making me a double ace!
"Biggen Hill, this is Manchester Lead, I'm commin' back to base, over." I called to my base.
"Copy that, Manchester Lead, this is Biggen Hill, we'll leave the light on and will be expecting your report when you get back." joked the radio operator.
"Roger that, Biggen Hill, I'll see you on the ground" I said, and turned off my mask's transmitter.
"Oh, there better be a light on when I get back, or they'll be hell to raise." I mumbled.
I also was secretly hoping that my boyfriend, James, would be waiting for me. He was a most wonderful guy, with that golden smile, and beautiful blue eyes, I'm surprised that he didn't pick someone else. Unfortunately, due to a leg wound after a dogfight with a couple 110s, the only thing he can pilot now is the Swordfish torpedo-planes that Coastal Command uses to attack Jerry shipping. I was surprised when my father actually approved of James, but I guess that doesn't really matter when I'm twenty years old and have a crappy apartment of my own in downtown London, which unfortunately is twenty-two kilometers away from where I was stationed.
The runway was outlined by the twilight-filled ocean of blue we call the sky, which was lucky for me because my Spitfire had no landing lights (only the night-fighter version had those), so I flipped the landing gear switch to "down" and lowered the flaps. After a perfect landing, and with my aircraft rolling into the parking space, I saw my base commander, Merlin Reynolds, chatting with two men in dark suits with the one on the left carrying an attache bound to him with a pair of handcuffs standing by on the tarmac. After I came to a bumpy halt in the space, the trio started towards me as I stepped off the wing of my fighter.
"Great," I said sarcastically, "I guess you guys aren't the welcoming committee then?"
"No, sorry Major Pendleton or was it Squadron Leader Pendleton?" answered one of the dark suited men, with a small, confused look on his face.
"Squadron Leader is the Royal Air Force equivalent to the Army rank of Major, so you use Squadron Leader since I'm not in the Army." I said politely to the pair of men in suits, because the base commander already knew that.
"My apologies, ma'am" said the one who responded first.
"Apology accepted, now what can I do for you chaps today?" said I in a cheery voice.
I was guessing to who these two men were affiliated with, maybe Fighter Command or the U.S Army Air Corps (USAAC), or better yet, they could secret government spies! (A bit far-fetched, huh?) Yet, it could be anyone's guess as to who these men, all decked out in black, could be.
My base commander decided it was time speak up, "Squadron Leader, these men are from an undisclosed government laboratory (Darn, I wasn't even close), and they want you, and only you to do a job for them."
"What's the job, if I may ask." I questioned.
"Sorry, we can't disclose that information at this time." answered the one with the attache blandly.
I was thinking that this might be risky, but I said to my self "Oh, what the hell, it might be worth it in the long run!"
So my answer was: "Well, even with that extremely limited information you just gave me, I accept your job, just tell me where I need to do."
The men looked pleased, by my point of view if I do say so my self. So with this mysterious job in hand, I set off to the local greasy spoon for a bite to eat and to set my mind on the work ahead of me. After a short drive into the near-by town, aptly named Biggin Hill. I stepped into the dimly lit shite-hole they call a "cafe", where upon taking a seat at an empty table in the corner, I ordered some fish and chips and a pint of pale ale. I was just savoring my first bites out of my fish, when all of a sudden James rushed in and came up to me.
"'ello Dawn, the guv said I could find you here," James gasped out as he bent down to take a breath, "I heard you took some kind of job from the government."
"Yes," I blinked and tilted my head slightly "it's true."
"Well, did you know that I'm now able to fly fighters again?" he said, then he grinned like a hyena.
"That's great!" I squeaked, then jumped up and hugged him tightly.
"Thank you," he replied, embracing me as well, "and I have better news."
"What?" I said, not knowing what could be better than that.
"I got assigned to your squadron!" he said, getting up and embracing me.
I stood there dumbfounded, my brain had just overheated and shut down like my Spitfire sometimes does, but it then snapped all into place. Slowly I got up, I turned to face him and kissed him straight on the lips.
"I'll see you in the briefing room, Flight Lieutenant" I said stone-faced, but then smirked and left the pub with a stunned James sitting where I had originally sat. An older man sitting next to James asked if he could have my meal, and all he could do was a slight nod. I drove back to the base with a couple of the fellas and went to the barracks. I undressed, took a shower, and went to bed because I wasn't on duty that night. As I was laying there and thinking about James and new ability, I thought that this new development is bittersweet.
"Its great that James can be a fighter pilot again and is going to be in my squadron," I thought to myself, "but for my lover to be fighting next to me and the possibility that he or I might die is just..." I couldn't continue, I just couldn't and wouldn't as I felt tears well up in my eyes. I sniffed, pulled the blanket over my head, and whimpered quietly for the rest of the night.
The next day, I met up with James and the rest of the squad and we all headed to the briefing room. We all sat in quietly, with a few of us chatting to one another calmly. I sat there, just having a deep thought about last night's events when the commanding officer came in and began to give us our orders for the day.
"All right men -and women- tomorrows operations are as follows: No. Forty-one Squadron is to escort their Squadron Leader, Squadron Leader Pendleton to be exact, to RAF Gibraltar. Squadron Leader Pendleton will be transporting a vital package with her aircraft and has top-level security clearance until the package has been delivered in a timely manner. The fore mentioned squadron is to defend Major Pendleton and her aircraft with the utmost priority. That is all, dismissed!" The CO said with much rehearsed discipline and procedure. I was a bit stunned, but it soon fell upon me, I was going to be a delivery girl!
This was just great, I was going on a thousand kilometer journey to deliver some special package to a rock in the middle of the Mediterranean! Especially with a small, cramped fighter plane that has a range of not even half that, I was a bit pissed off. My squadron, eight in all including James and I, was starting to gather around me to get their specific orders from me regarding the mission and to ask questions if need be. Oh, and did those questions come.
"Ma'am, what is the "package," one of my men questioned with air-quotes "that you will be transporting today?"
"Frankly, I don't know the answer to that myself." I said.
"If I know Gibraltar, that's a long trip, isn't it?" said another.
"I know mate, but we have been allocated under-wing petrol tanks and we will be making several stops in Spain." I answered.
"But aren't the dagoes neutral?" he questioned again.
"Yes, but the Spanish have secretly allowed us to land there, and we wouldn't be breaking their neutrality as long as we be quick and silent about getting our petrol." I said with the knowledge that was handed to me before the briefing.
"What about enemy fighters?" asked James. I was a bit surprised at the question and the questioner, but again I answered with the information that was given to me.
"Fighters shouldn't be a problem, but if they do become a pain the the rear, then half the squadron will move to engage and blow Jerry's arse out of the sky!" I said with much energy.
"What about the "jet" fighters?" James asked in a serious tone. The room instantly became deathly quiet after the question was asked. I had heard rumors of some type of "propeller-less" airplane that was faster than any other airplane in the world. Still, I had my share of doubts before when I first heard of it a few months ago, but now it had me thinking.
"How could my squadron and I defeat something so superior to our aircraft in almost every way?" I questioned myself.
"Have any of those rumors told you what these "jets" might look like?" I asked James.
"I hear that they are about the size of a large, normal fighter, but with two "tubes" under the wings and no propeller. Those "tubes" in question are it's engines." James said grimly.
"Ok, so at least we know what it looks like, anything else Flight Lieutenant?" I asked him again.
"Other than the fact that its extremely fast and heavily armed and armored." James said again grimly.
"So, with the information given to us, any more questions?" I asked once again.
The room was so silent you could have heard pin drop from the other end the runway, with the room's doors closed. I decided not to pursue the matter anymore on that note.
"If that's all the questions for today, you can all turn in for the trip tomorrow, dismissed!" I said in a military fashion and then saluted. As my fellow squadron mates filed out, James came up and asked if I was ok and I replied that I was fine but was thinking about tomorrow. Even though that wasn't the answer he was looking for, he decided not to ask anymore questions. He left the room, leaving me alone to pack up my belongings.
I walked to the barracks, took a cold shower (I wish they would have left me with some hot water, but beggars can't be choosers), and went to bed because I needed all my strength for tomorrow. I tossed and turned all night, having nightmares of indescribable events, which I don't remember seeing oddly enough. I hoped down to the bottom of my heart that my squadron and I would never, ever meet those "jet-engined hounds from hell."
A/N: So, if you all enjoyed this little snippet of my soon to be grand story, please give me your thoughts on it! Also, historical accuracy is not my top priority, but I will try and make it as accurate as possible, without making it boring and long.