Goyle thinks for a moment and seems to come up with an idea.
"How does this sound, sir. I was about to order a flock, er, I mean, unit out to scout ahead, keep an eye for any advancing enemy. How would you like to join them? That'll give you the opportunity to see if you can pilot one of the single-man gliders without trouble."
"Sounds like a plan." He checked his flight goggles, polishing them one last time as he goes through a quick mental inventory. He should have everything he needed. Sure, he was dressed a bit more lightly than most likely would be with flight in mind. But feathers were designed with more than just flight in mind after all. "When do we take off."
He felt a thrill course through him as he spoke the words, feeling almost giddy at the prospect of getting up in the air.
"I'll see if the gliders are ready for final prep," Goyle states to his King. "I'll give you the green light, sir." He throws a hasty salute and turns to head off further into the floating airship.
"I really hate heights." The deep, raspy voice gargles from behind and above Rick. Turning, he sees a paler than usual Swilla, swallowing hard.
"I'll be waiting for it." The salute is returned after a instant of indecisive hesitation. He was not at all used to either saluting or being saluted.
Then he turns as he hears the beast's voice. And there are several moments of stunned silence as he looks from a glider to Swilla. From a lightweight streamlined glider, to the hulking form of Swilla. From the delicate craft designed to float on air, to the largest changeling he'd ever met. "You're taking part in the aerial battle?"
"Fuck no!" Swilla responds before pointing to the mounted repeater crossbows mounted upon the Zeppelin's side rail. "I'm here for target practice and when this thing gets over the top, Shhhhhhh-booom!" he says, mimicing plummeting to the ground with his hand and then smiling. "I'm one of the parachute commandos, apparently. Something to do with my size and shock factor. How rude, right?"
Sarcasm was as thick as the big man's hoarfrost-covered beard. The bone spurs that punctured through various parts of his body seemed to crack with each movement he made and as he smiled, a row of very sharp teeth glinted in the morning sun.
Rick chuckled, flexing lightning-armored fingers. "I don't know, I've never thought of anything having to do with shock value as bad." The mention of fun sobers his expression almost instantly, the sights of his durance playing through his mind's eye. "I'm looking forward to getting up in the air." The thought of battle on this scale, on the other hand...would always be something that would haunt his nightmares. But he didn't need to tell Swilla that.
"Rather you than me," Swilla says. Somewhere overhead, a siren begins to wail. The huge Beast looks around, neck cracking. "Looks like they're singing your song."
As if on cue, Lieutenant Goyle jogs over and salutes Rick once again. "All ready for you to take flight, sir. Your unit will be right behind you when you take to the sky." Goyle holds out to Rick what appears to be a very worn looking walkie-talkie. "Its not exactly top notch, but it should work this high. Yet another wonder from Mr. Tickle."
Swilla rolled his eyes. Rick was certain he heard the sockets crack.
Rick's head swivelsnaps around look at the nearest siren. "Yeah, sounds like it."
He accepts the walkie talkie from from Garth, though he seems to be about as enthusiastic about the device as Swilla. "I might be more impressed by his wonders if one of them wasn't out there trying to kill us all..."
Nevertheless he slides it into place as he climbs into the glider, offering the other two Changelings one last wave/salute before departure. "See you on the other side."
Then he takes off, feels the ground drop off beneath him and feels the freedom of the open sky once more. He felt the wind in his face, unobstructed by any of the obstacles present at ground level, and the openness of the sky as he left the zeppelin behind him. He felt the freedom, the exhilaration, of flight fill him with an intense joy that had become a part of his very being.
A joy he had left behind long ago, and nearly forgotten.
And for several seconds that seemed to stretch practically to eternity, he simply exalts in the feeling. Then his eyes snap open with crystal clarity, and he's entirely in the here and now, alert in the face of the conflict to come. His head twisted about to take stock of his surroundings; the ground far below, the open sky all around him, and most importantly the endless expanse of sky above him. The phrase "Death from Above" had come into prominence for a reason after all, virtually all aerial ambushes came from that direction.
He also shifted in his seat, mindful of what Garth had said about the rudder. He'd certainly rather get a feel for the capabilities and maneuverability of the craft now than when life and death hinged upon fractions of a second.
In Rick's hand, the rudder only gives slight movement and actually turning the glider involves him leaning his body left or right. Pushing or pulling the stick changes the angle of the wings and allows for a change of altitude. It wasn't pretty but it was flying, and that was the main thing. Dropping from the zeppelin and RIck glides gracefully over the forming army, led by General Etalon. There was no sign of the Storm's forces.
The radio crakled next Rick and a voice echoed, ghostly and distant, an effect of the Hedge interference, yet at least it was something.
"Autumn Leader, this is Autumn One, forming up beside. Confirm sight, over." Looking over to the right, and Rick can see another glider join him, piloted by a clockwork solider looking his way. Beside them were both were another 4 pairs of gliders.
The thought briefly crosses his mind that using the truncated "Fall" in lieu of "Autumn" would probably lead to quicker communication when things got dicey. But then, that would hardly be an auspicious name for an aerial squad.
"This is Autumn Lead, I see you One." Odd, how that brought back memories of watching Red Squadron prepare for their Death Star Run. "Looks like the Storm's forces are back hiding somewhere, ready to go find them?"
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