Operation Highwire (Closed, Excalibur Only)

[The balkens]

Joshua stepped in right after smythe. "good work, sergeant. Flight Lieutanant, orders?"

[The Tiger Kingdom]

"Ta." Said Charlie after Alix had hauled him into the plane. "Though those gunshots probably alerted the rest of the buggers..."

A shrug in reply, then a grimace as her whole midsection twinged in pain.
"No other option looked very good, unfortunately."

Stepping in, he offered a nod to Alix, "Thank you, ma'am." He offered as he turned to give his companion a hand in, "Good trip, not too eventful?" He said, continuing as he drew one of his pair of Enfield #2 revolvers.

"Nearly as painful as it was terrifying, Colour Serjeant. But at least we made it."

Eyeballing the hatch, the doomed SS trooper had been nice enough to shut it behind him. There were almost certainly more SS behind the door, but what exactly to do about them was anyone's guess.
"...Anyone got any bright ideas, short of storming in there head-on?"

[Morrdh]

"Well as crazy as it sounds mam," Charlie replied. "We could try knocking."

"I mean it's probably the last thing they'll be expecting."

[Kouralia]

Smythe nodded, "Yes... If we make them think the SS trooper lived and we died... Can anyone speak German? Just something like, 'lads get in here and have a look at this'. As soon as the door is opened, we slot the first man through, then shove past him and kill any other SS troops on board."

He shrugged, "It should at least guarantee a single less soldier before we go through the door, and maybe even more depending on how close they are to the door, and if we can simply fire through and shoot them all relatively simultaneously."

[The Tiger Kingdom]

Smythe nodded, "Yes... If we make them think the SS trooper lived and we died... Can anyone speak German? Just something like, 'lads get in here and have a look at this'. As soon as the door is opened, we slot the first man through, then shove past him and kill any other SS troops on board."

He shrugged, "It should at least guarantee a single less soldier before we go through the door, and maybe even more depending on how close they are to the door, and if we can simply fire through and shoot them all relatively simultaneously."

Alix laughed raggedly. "I like it. But speaking's going to be a problem I can speak German pretty well, if I do say so myself...but somehow, I don't think they're going to be convinced if I give it a go. I'm guessing you can't, Smythe..."
She turned her gaze to Joshua, clearly expecting him to volunteer any relevant expertise he had, being Central European and all.

[The balkens]

Joshua thought for moment. Snapping his fingers to indicate that he had an idea.
"Well ma'am, I can speak German fluently and with an East Prussian accent.....what exactly do you want me to say?

[Kouralia]

"This is good..." Smythe said, turning to Noble. "Ma'am, if Sir," He motioned to Zilorski, "could call them in, you grab the door and yank it open as soon as he starts entering. I'm in wait, and shoot him as soon as possible. Sir," He gestured to Charlie, "Can then pull the German's body through and out of the way, and deal with him if he remains alive, while I push through the door and keep up momentum to fight along the plane. Naturally sir," He gestured to Zilorski, "Would come next after me, then you, then Charlie."

He nodded, "And I don't know what exactly to say, but I'd suggest something along the lines of 'Hey, you guys have to see what the stupid Britishers did this time. I can't believe they're this stupid.', to put them at ease."

[Goram]

They're inside Skip!

A almost uncannily calm voice said across the Wellington's intercom.

"Roger. Cut the lines"

Stanford replied.

The voice, presumably the navigators, then confirmed that the lines had been detached and that the Wellington was now free to manoeuvre again. Stanford wasted no time in opening the throttles and easing back on the control column. As the bomber climbed gently away, a second voice floated over the air.

"Front gunner to pilot, bandits, a lot of them. Perhaps 20. 10 o'clock high and closing."

Stanford scanned the sky for a second, before spotting the swarm of approaching aircraft. Behind his mask, he swallowed hard. He didn't like the look of this. He shuffled around in his chair, intending to tell someone to alert the fighters. However, it seemed that he had been pre-empted. He could see the shattered body of the wireless operator, lying in the fuselage. Perhaps not the dignity that the dead Sergeant deserved, but there would be time to lay him to rest when they got home.

"When we get home"

Stanford thought

"You mean if we get home."

His mind momentarily wandered to the letter that he'd left propped up against the alarm clock on the dresser next to his bed. It had been his custom at Hornchurch to leave his final correspondence on his bedside table. In his first mission with Excalibur, he had changed his routine by entrusting the letter to Kaya and he had almost been killed during the operation. In Stanford's mind, it was bad luck to change his habits and had gone back to the way it always had been. On the downside, it would mean that his squadron mates would see the letter - though in the back of his mind, Stanford was sure they would all have something similar as a contingency should the worst happen.

Stanford was snapped out of his musings, after no more than a second or two, by a familiar female voice on the air.

"Whimpey calling all. Bandits, 20 plus, 10 o'clock high and closing."

Kaya, temporarily abandoning her F/E position had taken over the radio. Stanford would never know how the diminutive Australian had managed to move the weight of the dead wireless operator from his chair, but that seemed irrelevant.

Out of the corner of his eye, Stanford spotted another aircraft several hundred feet above everyone else. From the wing shape alone, it was clearly a Spitfire and from the way it was flying, the pilot had clearly seen the incoming Germans.

"Good of him to call them out"

Stanford thought grimly. He didn't know who it was, but in his mind it had to be one of the rookies - surely no veteran would keep such information to him or herself.

Concurrently

What the fuck are Tommy's doing so far South?

The second crew member of the Bf.110 said.

And the briefing mentioned nothing about a convoy in the area.

"Must be something secret, SS maybe. Either that or the goddamn Luftwaffe forgot to tell us about it."

Bauers replied. The crew had a right to be angry, or so they thought. This was supposed to be a test flight, hell they weren't even on standby until 5 PM. The only reason that the guns were even loaded was that the Staffelkapitän insisted that all aircraft under his command were ready to fight at all times. By now, Bauers could see what he assumed was the British in the distance. On the plus side, he could see at least 20 aircraft - he was absolutely positive that they were 109s - a few hundred feet below him. Even now, the other man in the cockpit was beginning to establish communication with the force below them.

[Kassaran]

Jonah looked on at the oncoming swarm of Bf-109's. Knowing the impressively dangerous armament they had, he'd not be able to risk a head on attack. However, something else had caught his attention, a lone heavy fighter by the looks of it. Definitely larger and only a few hundred feet above the oncoming bf-109 front. It was without a doubt a hostile and Jonah knowing he'd have to act soon weighed the odds of his next few actions.

The inbound bf-109's were definitely unaware of him, and, with his location between Excalibur and the inbound Krauts, he could buy them a few moments extra to brace and engage a safe distance away. Jonah however knew that without a full amount of armament of armor-piercing cannon rounds, and a slightly more generous amount of .303 caliber rounds, he'd not be able to inflict the maximum amount of punishment. He would however have the element of surprise seeing as how they were seemingly entirely focused on the flight of British aircraft below and he might be able to give 'em a good bushwhacking and effectively scatter them in the wind.

Then there was the lone fighter, what Jonah could only presume to be a bf-110. While definitely in a lesser amount, the plane was meant to sack British bombers and the like. With guns that would be incapable of destroying the plane significantly enough, quickly enough, Jonah would have to time the shots perfectly and have them hit their mark. A serious amount of guesswork without even basic knowledge of external environmental factors. The bf-110 was the bigger threat if it went unnoticed and would represent the biggest hazard to Excalibur's heavy aircraft if it made it's way through. Knowing this, Jonah made his decision, against his better judgement.

Pulling back on the stick and banking gently right, he climbed in altitude to gain the advantage on the inbound heavy fighter. If he could do any sort of damage with whatever he had left in the chambers, he'd make sure it was damage done well and for a specific cause. He had, so far, been the only one to sit up high. Now, reaching for his mic, he pushed the transmit button and attempted to call out his intentions.

"Sword Eleven to Excalibur, I am moving to engage German heavy fighter, presumably a Bf-110, several hundred feet above an inbound Luftwaffe Bf-109 detachment moving to intercept your formation, do you copy?" It was at this time Jonah got a chill, an unearthly, unholy chill that wracked his spine and it was here he looked back in an expression of utter horror. He didn't know how he had known, but his sixth sense in a sort had been acting up for a while, keeping him silent he felt, for no good reason. 'It wouldn't of mattered' he thought in despair as he looked balefully out of the back of his cockpit, and at the cusp of the edge, he could see it, the little wisps of smoke and the holes that had slammed into his radio in some pass he had never noted during the first engagement. Some lucky Kraut bastard had knocked out his radio. Jonah was now truly alone as he looked back at his squadron, noting them pulling away from the transport.

'At least the operatives made it on' Jonah thought bitterly, his nose now being mockingly filled with the aroma of burnt out electronics and radio parts. Completely reparable if he landed at an airfield, but not in any other stance. Oh how poor was Jonah's luck, if he hadn't of gone for the poor German bastard earlier, he would've made his way back to the squadron and they would've pointed it out. He also wouldn't be in the position now to attack the threat that was the inbound heavy. Peering back out of his cockpit and towards the inbound krauts, he noted the bf-110 holding position overhead, like a hawk over a chicken pen.

"DAMN IT!" Jonah called out inside of his own little coffin that was the cockpit of his spit. A mute pilot was almost as bad as a blind-folded pilot, and if there was something Jonah now felt obligated to do, it was to not return home, in spit of the seemingly overpowering urge to survive these next few minutes. He had failed to obtain ace status, even though this was only his first sortie. He had hoped to become like those men he had heard tales of inside the pubs that hosted the propellers of old "Great-War" era aircraft. Now he was simply to become some other pilot's victory, some other pilot's kill.

"Damn you Germany! I'll kill every last one of your men who dare face me in the air! This is not where I die, this is where I will survive and learn to hunt. I will live!" and with that Jonah flipped his Spitfire all the way over and tilted it into an inverted dive towards the inbound bf-110. He'd be visible, but only if they were looking for him, and Jonah would know when they had spotted him, oh he'd know. Approaching the aircraft from about two hundred above its ten o'clock, he would intercept the aircraft and engage it, killing it regardless of what it took and he would leave victorious. A snarl on his face, he righted the aircraft and lined up his crosshairs into a tiny place just in front of, and above, the rather plainly-visible cockpit and prepared to pull the trigger.

[The balkens]

"while that is a good plan, I feel that I may provide another." he cleared his throat. don't fuck up "flight Lieutenant, I may require your...cooperation for this."

[The Tiger Kingdom]

(Co-credit to Tiger and Balk)

"while that is a good plan, I feel that I may provide another." he cleared his throat. don't fuck up "flight Lieutenant, I may require your...cooperation for this."

Alix braced herself.
"And what for, Zilorski?"

Joshua grinned a bit. “how good of an actress are you? its relevant.”

“Probably good enough for whatever you’ve got planned, LT. Now what is it? We don’t exactly have a lot of time.”

“well……” joshua began. “you play prisoner while the sergeant and...charlie hide in the cockpit. i draw the scumbags that are guarding the precious cargo out and we ambush them. simple.”

Alix thought about it. Despite the fact she’d had no formal acting experience, the few times she’d tried it as part of Excalibur (or just in general) had gone fairly well. Her diplomatic training definitely played a part in this – it was perfect preparation to camouflage your true feelings and string along the people you were trying to get something out of. And on a more basic level, she just felt an affinity for it. Maybe I was an actress in some sort of past life?
So this looked simple enough. She’d probably just need to use her voice anyways.
‘Sounds like the best idea we’ve got. Start us off.”

“ok then.” joshua called upon his time growing up in Konigsberg for this performance.
he grabbed Noble by the arm. “your side arm, please? or one of them anyway.”

Alix extricated her spare Colt and handed it over.

“thank you.” he walked her over to the door, using the handle of his Colt and banged on it.
<open this door! we have been boarded!>

---

While the Unterscharfuhrer had gone out on his little recon mission, the other members of the SS guard squad had waited with bated breath to hear what he had found. They could hear the side-door opening, the rush of the wind…and then two shots, causing them to once again quickly ready their weapons.
“That didn’t sound like one of our guns,” one of them mumbled before being shushed by the Sturmscharfuhrer.
The seconds slowly ticked by as they waited for some kind of response…anything. They could hear footsteps in the cargo antechamber – what was going on in there?

“open this door! we have been boarded!”

The Sturmscharfuhrer’s ears pricked up at the sound. It might have just been the engines, but the voice of the SS man sounded slightly different than he remembered it sounding…It might have just been due to the engine noise, though.
The claim of the SS trooper was corroborated by the screams of what sounded like a woman in considerable distress.
“You bastard, let go of me! You’re crushing my arm!”
The SS Sturmscharfuhrer motioned another one of his troopers over to open the door, not willing to take chances with whatever was going on on the other side.
Slowly, the trooper opened the compartment door…
as the door opened, joshua whispered into nobles ear. “for what its worth, miss noble. im sorry” the door opened fully and joshua raised his arm, aiming for the SS trooper, pulling the trigger as it leveled.

[Morrdh]

Charlie was ready with his Webley revolver, fitted with a shoulder stock, and crouched down to the side of the door. He certainly wasn't no fan of Zilorski's plan, truth be told Charlie was hoping that they'd get through this without having to kill anyone and thus far that seemed wishful thinking. Though as the door opened, Charlie slowly leaned forwards and fired off a couple of aimed shots through the door before ducking back in case of any return fire.

[Goram]

Bauers flipped the aircraft's safety catches from "safe" to "armed". The heavy fighter was well armed, with a pair of twenty millimetre cannon and four rifle calibre machine guns in the nose. Something told the crew of the night fighter that they would probably be needing all the firepower they could get.

As a dedicated night fighter, Bauers aircraft (as with all NJG.1 aircraft) was painted up as such. The airframe was almost completely in a very dark grey that bordered on black, as to better blend into the night sky. The only hints of colour were the white letters, along with the outline of the crosses on the wings and fuselage. The aircraft also carried a shark's mouth motive, painted blood red, on the nose. This was certainly a striking paint scheme, making the machine look every inch the nocturnal hunter on the ground and making it virtually invisible in the night sky. During the day, however, it was worse than useless. The once concealing colours of the Messerschmitt were now the precise opposite as they made the fighter stick out like a sore thumb. This probably had something to do with why they were spotted so quickly by the swarming RAF fighters.

The cry of

"Achtung, Spitfire!"

was the first of that Bauers knew of the fighter that was steaming in from ten o'clock high. The experienced night fighter yanked hard on the controls and practically stepped on the rudder, slipping the heavy fighter away from the incoming aircraft. The instinctive move was fortunate, as the Spitfire opened fire less than half a second later. Rather than obliterating the Messerschmitt's lengthy cockpit, the .303 rounds simply cut through mid air. However, the fight was only just beginning. Despite that, Bauers knew he had an advantage or two up his sleeve. If the Spitfire came in from in front again, Bauers would unleash the monumental firepower that his aircraft carried. More over, there was a significant number of friendly aircraft in the area, in the shape of the nimble 109's several hundred feet below.

Even as Bauers made his first evasive move, was the radio operator calling for help from the shark like fighters below. As the 110 jinked and turned, trying to throw off the Spitfire's aim as Bauers was sure that the RAF man would certainly return for another pass, two 109's were climbing quickly towards the skirmish with the intent of helping the overmatched night fighter.

[Kassaran]

-snip-

Jonah cursed again into his mask as his fighter whipped past the tail of the Bf-110. Now obviously identifiable, the colouring of the fighter was unique. it was a night fighter, Jonah snarled, this was going to be a duel to the death. Flipping hard right to put himself behind the now wildly maneuvering heavy fighter, he pulled on the stick using his elevator to tighten his turn and brought the nose of his craft to bear once more, but noting the gunner at the back of the cockpit of the other craft, he dropped some altitude by dipping his nose and gained some speed to close the distance. Doing so he notices two Messerschmitts breaking off from the main squadron to help their ailing friend.

"Alright, you wanna play like that Jerry? Let''s play!" Jonah responded almost devilishly, whipping his nose around wildly too trying to pull a bead on the night fighter and even more so trying to predict the fighter's next movements. The strain of the G-Forces he had pulled in those last few maneuvers though had tired him and so his movements weren't as erratic as he also attempted to retain breath control. His feet and arms straining against the wake of the larger craft head of him, Jonah began to bank in a gentle "scissor" movement. If the heavy wanted to fight horizontally, Jonah would simply come in at him on the side. Flipping his craft's wings side to side in the slight banking maneuver of a scissor-roll, Jonah notes the inbound fighters as they now are only a few hundred feet off.

Bracing himself behind his armor plate and inside the spacious cockpit of the Spit, he pulled lead and opened again with a slight pull of his guns aimed just a little above the fuselage of the night-fighter. Jonah knows his best chance to render the craft harmless is to simply drop a few rounds into the main canopy or into the tail assembly to make maneuvering all that much harder, then, with his remaining ammo, he could take on the two lighter, more nimble fighters inbound for him...

[Morrdh]

"Beer Flight, you heard the lass." Flight Lieutenant Morgan called out over the radio to the remaining Beaufighters. "Peel off and drop in on Jerry, Ace Flight will cover the transports."

"Copy that Ace Leader," Crackled the reply of Beer Flight's leader. "Try to resist the urge to hang out for Jerry."

"Ha, funny."

"You're welcome Ace Leader." Beer Leader replied as the Beaufighters in his flight broke formation and turned for the clouds, the idea being to mask their approach and use their AI radars to effectively ambush the German planes. Stealth would be their greatest asset, even more so if the Spitfires kept the Hun fighters busy.

[Kouralia]

As soon as Charlie ducked back, Smythe stepped up and launched himself through the doorway, hoping to maintain the element of surprise even as the tumbling bodies of already-dead SS men got in the way of the aim of their fellows. His .38 drawn, and his Browning in his other hand, he raised the automatic as he moved through at a crouched run, firing rapidly into the group of SS men, and trying to keep momentum to knock them off of their feet.

[Goram]

The radio operator threw his hands up in front of his face, shielding himself as bullets passed through the plexiglass cockpit and impacted the cockpit floor, passing within inches of hitting the man.

Jesus Christ!

The man exclaimied

You better do something Willi, it's getting draughty back here!

Bauers did not take much persuading, it was time to get rid of the British fighter and leave him to the 109s. This was their game, not his and Bauers wasn't overly keen on getting himself killed in such a pointless fashion. It seemed the Englishman wanted to get into a flat fight, perhaps trying to lure the night fighter into a flat scissor. This was not a trap the German was going to fall into. He'd not been involved in the Battle of Britain, but he knew well enough that the heavy 110 couldn't fight with a Spitfire on equal terms. The British machine held virtually every advantage and getting into a fight with him would be suicide.

The Messerschmitt banked away hard, diving as he did so, towards a particularly inviting bank of cloud. If Bauers had one advantage, it was in the dive. He had heard from other pilots, veterans of the battle over England that you could get away from RAF fighters in the dive. Apparently, something about their engines meant they couldn't dive so well as German aircraft. Bauers had never seen this done, nor had he done it himself. It was entirely possible that the move wouldn't work - perhaps the Englanders had fixed the problem by now. Either way, it seemed his best bet.

Inside the angular and cramped cockpit of the lead 109, the pilot stared through his gunsight. The Spitfire had to know he was there, he simply had to. The 109s were too close now for him not have been spotted and yet, the Spitfire made no effort to defend itself, rather he continued in his dogged pursuit of the 110. Thus, the Messerschmitts found it relatively easy to manoeuvre onto the tail of the RAF fighter, making their attack from almost directly astern. The pilot of the lead machine wasted no time in lining up a hurried shot and squeezing off a burst of roughly a second and a half from the Bf.109E's impressive offensive array.

[United Kingdom of Poland]

" He's out of his mind" Polanski said to himself. He'd just seen one of the new pilots rush in on the German formation 20 to 1. "Come on white flight lets go help him out before he gets himself in trouble." White flight started to climb to engage the German fighters. "Ace flight, this is white lead, we'll fly in first and scatter their formation. You guys fly in behind us and start picking off the stragglers. Hopefully we can shock them enough that they forget that there's only 8 of us." White flight split off, Matt focused on the two 109's following Jonah. Coming underneath he opened up on the number two plane. the 1 second burst shredded the right wing and fuselage. one down.......19 to go.

[Kassaran]

PA-TINK-KA-TINK-KA-TINK!

The loud reports of the cannon rounds from the bf-109's behind Jonah's Spitfire rattled into the fuselage, one of the rounds detonating just behind the seat and sending a piece of shrapnel through the flimsy metal skin of the back of the seat. The shard ripped through outside of the leather flying jacket Jonah was wearing and embedded itself into Jonah's right arm. Jonah groaned, but pushed through the pain and gave chase after the diving heavy fighter. Only a few more rounds and then the bf-110 would of had it and would be forced to return home.

Flipping violently to the right, Jonah slammed his foot down on the right rudder pedal to quickly drop speed and to allow him time to invert and pursue the now fleeing heavy fighter. Jonah wasn't letting this Kraut getting away, even at the price of his own life. However, the fighter had gained a considerable distance advantage and so, noting its heading, Jonah broke off and moved to move into position to drop in behind the main Messerschmitt formation. They were now almost on top of Excalibur and a full assault on any of the bombers would be catastrophic.

Opening the throttle up to full and holding an inverted position (a trick Jonah had improvised to allow for a lesser chance of choking/flooding the engine), he quickly gained on the formation of bf-109's, and, with only a few seconds having transpired between Jonah having been shot at and his falling in behind the main bf-109 formation, he pulled lead on the lead fighter, righted himself, and squeezed the trigger while gently gently banked down and right, strafing the the entirety of the right side of the Messerschmitt squadron in less than two seconds before peeling off and looping up and around in a high yo-yo to bleed off his extra speed and gain sights on the situation, noticing the two Messerschmitt fighters still glued to his tail.

"Shit! These damn Jerry pilots don't know when to give up!" Jonah mumbled under his breath as suddenly a loud pop resounded through the craft and Jonah looked out at his wing, and noted the lack of an aileron, or moreover, the lack of most of his aileron. Struggling to right his plane and pull out of the dive, Jonah leaned hard left and began to make his move to attack the German's below before they could flee. Then the cavalry arrived as Excalibur's Spitfires engaged the bf-109's. Jonah watched as one dropped in behind the number two Messerschmitt on his tail and dropped a well-aimed burst of gunfire into its fuselage and wing. Cheering on his squadron-mate, he lined up for his next pass, but not before sighting the heavy fighter that had fled moving among the clouds a fair distance off.

[Goram]

The pilot of the leading 109 pursed his lips with grim satisfaction as he saw the strikes of his cannon shells, as they went off upon impact with the Spitfire. Judging by the cautious way the Spitfire was now flying, the explosive power of the 20mm shells seemed to have done some quite serious damage to the machine, though not enough to destroy the Englander. The Messerschmitt closed in on his wounded prey, intending to end the suicidally crazy pilot then and there. It was simply the RAF man's luck that saved him as the trailing 109 caught a burst of fire from a second Spitfire from roughly 6 o'clock low, leaving the boxy aircraft leaking a thin stream of black smoke, emanating from underneath the cowling of the Daimler Benz engine.

For the relatively experienced pilot inside the damaged 109, enough was enough. Most of his instruments were dead, the controls felt very sloppy indeed and the smoke from the engine massively obscured his forward vision. If any more incentive was needed, a distinctive burning smell filled the cockpit. He unstrapped his harness and grasped the canopy release lever, ducking low in his seat as he did so. When he pulled the lever, explosive bolts in the canopy were triggered and the boxy plexiglass structure and it's steel frame was blown up and thrown backwards by the slipstream. In the seconds before he left the doomed Messerschmitt, it occurred to the pilot that the jettisoned canopy might hit the Spitfire that claimed him. It was a long shot, a very long shot, but the thought was comforting. The pilot rolled the fighter upside down and simply fell away from the aircraft, before deploying his parachute when he was well clear of the fighting.

The leading pilot was then forced to disengage from the damage Spitfire and defend himself from second machine that was probably going to engage him now. He whipped around and prepared to fight and kill the aircraft that had just brought his wing man down.

The two RAF pilots that had engaged were doubtlessly talented, but the odds were still stacked against them. No two pilots could fight against 19 modern fighters, mostly with veteran pilots, and win. That, however, didn't stop them from trying as the damaged Spitfire opened wheeled around and opened fire in the general direction of the right side of the formation. As the Messerschmitts broke apart, six more Spitfires charged into the quickly developing brawl. With odds of 19 against 8, the advantage was certainly with the 109's but this battle was certain to be fierce and bloody.

Concurrently

With the Germans closing in, Stanford pulled his goggles down over his eyes in order to protect them from any shrapnel that might end up flying around in any potential combat. From out of nowhere, the Wellington shook violently and lurched to port. From out of the left hand side of the cockpit, Stanford could see the flames that now enveloped the number two engine and the gaping holes in the wings, which exposed the internal structure. Glancing upwards, he saw a massive cloud of black smoke and flaming wreckage falling away. Stanford had never seen a fighter, never heard gun fire nor bullet strikes. The only reasonable explanation was that, in a freak occurrence, the Wellington had been struck by pieces of burning wreckage from what had presumably been the Catalina.

Kaya, who by this point had returned to the flight engineers spot, worked quickly at her console. She knew what do to, even as Stanford shouted at her to do it.

"Activate extinguishers, cut fuel and feather the propeller on number two!"

He yelled from behind his mask.

Fuel off, prop feathered,

The girl called back,

But the bloody extinguisher isn't responding!

Stanford cursed inwardly. His only decision would be to dive to put out the flames, but the strain of manoeuvre might rip the damaged wing right off. Equally, the fire might not go out before it was too late to pull up.

"Pilot to crew, we're diving to put out the fire unless anyone's got any bright ideas?"

---

Bauers moved the damaged 110 gingerly out of the clouds. To Bauer's mind, the Messerschmitt was handling well, despite the fact that the control surfaces were slightly damaged. It also helped that the Oberleutnant had taken aircraft with much heavier damage home on several occasions before. Bauers glanced down and simply could not believe his luck.

The three aircraft below him were a perfect target and damaged aircraft or not, he wasn't going to let this opportunity go a miss. Bauers winged the heavy fighter over, and dove on the formation. The highest aircraft, a peculiar machine with a parasol wing and twin engines, was to be his target. The night fighter dove in and as Bauers coaxed the aircraft into his gunsight, he was spotted. The British aircraft began to take evasive action, but it was too late. The impressive array of guns the Messerschmitt carried rippled into life, peppering the aircraft with HEI cannon shells and machine gun fire. Bauers would never know exactly what caused the aircraft, confirmed on the ground as a Catalina flying boat by the intelligence officer, to explode in the way it did, but that didn't matter. The machine took virtually every one of the sixty six shells
that the 110's unusual all cannon armament spat out during three second burst. The Catalina simply blew up in midair, affording the crew no chance to evacuate and sending flaming wreckage towards the two aircraft below.

Bauers turned hard to avoid the explosion, but the violence of the manoeuvre put to much strain on the already damaged Messerschmitt. The already compromised tail section buckled before falling away completely, putting the 110 into a fatal spin from which it would never recover. As the machine fell away, Bauers grappled with the canopy release, attempting to open it. The next thing that the Oberleutnant remembered was waking up in the back of the Wehrmacht halftrack, being driven towards a local hospital, with a broken shoulder. He would never know how he got out of the spinning Messerschmitt or how he managed to deploy his parachute, but it seemed that neither of the other two crew members had made it out as their remains were later found in the wreckage, identifiable only by the tags around their necks.

[The Tiger Kingdom]

After a few tense minutes of waiting for something, anything to happen regarding their attackers and their strange demands, Eckert's copilot piped up again, his voice as infuriatingly calm as it had been before.
"You hear that?"

Eckert pricked his ears up. "...What?"
Off in the distance, a familiar engine whine could be heard.
"...Our backup's here, Gottfried. We'll be out of this in a jiffy."

As if on cue, a 110 heavy fighter shot past under them, followed by several 109s.
The copilot almost sounded downright smug here. "See, we never had anything to worry about-"
In a particularly ironic interruption, he was cut off by the sudden eruption of gunfire towards the tail-end of the plane.
"What the hell was-"

The copilot never finished his question.

Eckert, shocked, threw the plane into a swerve as blood spattered the windscreen and bullets perforated it, the glass fortunately not shattering. Looking over, he knew with a sick feeling what he'd see. Indeed, whatever bullets had been fired had somehow blown right through the aircraft and come out...right in the middle of the copilot's seat.
Are they...are they inside the aircraft?

---

Almost as soon as the shooting started, it was over. The SS troopers were thrown off my the sudden outburst of German coming from the tail compartment just long enough, it seemed to Alix, to give the Excalibur assault team a split-second opening to start shooting before the SS did - and it was four against three anyways. With Joshua, Smythe, Charlie, and her all firing as quickly as their weapons would allow, the SS guards quickly fell. Scanning the interior, Alix saw the prisoners -face down, bags over their heads, hands and legs roped together. Thankfully, they'd been out of the line of fire, but their ears were probably ringing pretty fierce.

Just as things were looking secure, however, the plane lurched to port, wing down, throwing them all around. Steadying herself, Alix gestured for the team to move forward.
"All of you, get our people up and ready to go. I'm going to have a word with our pilot up front - make sure he knows the score."

[Morrdh]

"Mam," Charlie began. "Transports typically have a couple of pilots up front, plus two sets of guns are better than one."

"To be frank, I'll take a stroll with ye up front just to make sure the pilot and his chum fully understand the score."

[The Tiger Kingdom]

"Mam," Charlie began. "Transports typically have a couple of pilots up front, plus two sets of guns are better than one."

"To be frank, I'll take a stroll with ye up front just to make sure the pilot and his chum fully understand the score."

Alix was already moving.
"To be frank, negative. I'm well bloody aware of how many pilots are probably up there, and seeing as how this plane is in the process of flying, they're well indisposed. I'm capable of handling them myself. I want the rest of you getting our people ready to go."

[Morrdh]

"...Point taken mam." Replied Charlie. "All the same, good luck."

He turned to help the others free their captive comrades, though he couldn't quite shake the feeling that something could still go wrong.

---

"Beer Lead to Beer Flight." Called the leader of the second flight of Beaufighters. "Jerry's right be low us, lets drop in and give him a warm welcome."

There was a few acknowledgements back over the radio, fewer than Beer Leader would've liked. Still, four 20mm cannons would be enough to ruin anyone's days regardless of the number of aircraft. He pushed the stick forward to enter into a dive and called out as he led the attack. "Tally Ho!"

[The Tiger Kingdom]

The first thing Alix saw as she shoved the cockpit door open was the smear of blood across the windscreen, and one of the pilots slumped forward at his station, two bullet holes clearly visible in the back of his seat. Thankfully, as charlie had so fortuitously warned her, there was another, extremely stressed-looking German pilot keeping the plane in the air, sweat visibly pouring off of his brow.

Alix leveled her pistol at him. He didn't turn to look.
<<I don't think I need to tell you who we are.>>
He still didn't turn. <<No, you don't.>>
<<Well, then I don't need to waste time. Keep this plane on this course - and at full speed. If you deviate from it, I'll shoot you myself and we'll fly the damn plane. You do as you're told, you stay alive. Understood?>>
No response. She raised her voice.
<<Understood?>>

<<Yes, yes, I understand,>> he croaked, moving the throttles forward, <<but I'm a bit preoccupied here, what with your people fighting our people out there. Thanks for that, by the way->>
She'd heard enough. <<Good. And I'd tell you not to call for help, but I get the feeling you've already beaten me to the punch there. Still, I'm going to be back in a second, and if I see you talking to anybody, it won't be fun for you. Got the idea? Excellent, you catch on quickly.>>

Before he could reply, she was out of the cockpit and back into the cargo compartment. It was a bit of a risky move, leaving him to his own devices like that, but he seemed almost too petrified to move, much less do anything to make trouble. And she wanted to make sure they'd played their hunch right (in retrospect, maybe it would have been a good idea to have Charlie cover the cockpit...such were the perils of pride getting the better of you. Too late to back down now, though). Looking back into the cavernous cargo area, the place was indisputably a mess. The four SS troopers lay about in various states of horrific blood loss and catastrophic injury, and amongst them, also strewn about the place from all the contortions the plane had been put through, were four figures with legs and hands bound, with bags pulled over their heads. None of them were making an audible sound over the roar of the engines - their mouths were probably bound as well. It was no great logical leap to deduce that these were the people they were after.

Alix stepped over to the prisoner nearest to her and extracted one of her knives. Her heart was pounding. This was it - the payoff of all these weeks of searching, all this insane risk, all this effort - whether or not they'd found their people was about to be definitively answered, one way or the other. Working as fast as she could without making her hands shake and/or accidentally slitting a vein, she severed the ropes around the figure's heels, then the ones around their hands, then (very, very carefully) cut the knot around the bag tied around their neck, and gently removed it.

For a second, she didn't recognize him. Then, as she matched up the ragged, gaunt face before her with the faces of the people who'd been captured, she knew immediately who it was, and despite the direness of their circumstances, she felt joy welling up inside her.
"It's Michael!" she called out to the rest of the group. "Flight Lieutenant, it's good to have you back with us - oh wait...stupid, I forgot to remove the gag...sorry about that..."
The knife came back out.
"...And there you go. Are you all right? Can you stand up?"