Morrdun, 1947
The King’s Head public house on Connaught Road, located in the Blacknell borough of southern Morrdun, had somehow managed to avoid anything worse than minor damage from Mokan bombs during the war. The rest of the borough wasn’t as lucky, attested by the burnt shells of former factories and rubble that was once streets full of houses. Connaught Road itself had received hits during the bombing raids, bombed-out shops and homes lined as least part of the road. Here and there were sappers from the Royal Morridane Engineers, a few were part of bomb disposal teams making safe the UXBs that still lingered in the area whilst the rest had been tasked with clearing the rubble and restoring basic utilities were needed.
But for Royal Morridane Engineers officer Colonel Edmund Hayworth it wasn’t the sapper’s work that had brought him to Blacknell, or more accurately the King’s Head pub. He’d received a letter from an old friend asking if he could make it here to catch-up on things over a few drinks. With the cessations of hostilities his duties had declined sharply as the Morridane Army adjusted to a post-war state and began the slow process of demobilization, despite the end of fighting the paperwork on Hayworth’s desk had increased but he was able to pass it onto his aides. He was able to make good his escape from the office and agreed to meet at the pub, wearing beret and a Battledress uniform with officer’s markings to avoid unwanted attention. His plan worked and he was able to get about with very little trouble, only really having to return salutes from the Other Ranks and junior officers. Eventually he arrived at the pub, noticing the still taped windows and the ones that had been boarded up after being smashed by a nearby blast as he walked in. There were a few people in here at this time of day, mostly civilians with a handful of military types in uniform, and the air was hazy with cigarette smoke. A Royal Morridane Air Force officer, marked out by his RMAF blue uniform, called out as Hayworth entered. “Edmund ya old dog, you made it!”
“Christopher,” Hayworth nodded. “Congratulations on the promotion, Air Commodore now eh?”
“Something like that, just another bally excuse to lumber me with more paperwork if you ask me.”
“Know the feeling, getting desk-bound seems like an effective death sentence for all intents and purpose.”
“Couldn’t agree more old boy,” Christopher chuckled. “Air Commodore Wright still sounds blasted odd. Though, take a seat.”
“Of course.” Nodded Hayworth as he seated himself down at the table and pulled out a pipe along with a tobacco pouch. “Guess that’s you effectively grounded as you flyboys would say.”
“Not by a long shot, least I hope.” Wright answered and sipped his pint. “Hows your little pet project going?”
“War Ministry’s suspended it, citing that it needs to reassess its various research projects now that the war’s over.” Hayworth said bitterly as he lit his pipe. “They’re expecting budget cuts and so want to stick with proven designs. Bastards.”
“You should get a transfer to the Air Ministry, I’m being serious.”
“Don’t think blue suits me.” Chuckled Hayworth. “But thanks all the same for the suggestion.”
“Rockets,” Wright said which caused Hayworth to pause with his pipe just short of his lips. Wright smiled and said. “Ah, thought that would get your attention.”
“Now what’s your interested in those bally firecrackers?”
“The Army sees them as useless lumps of metal, the RMAF on the other hand sees the potential in them. Hell, that jet powered fighter is proof of the Air Ministry’s interest.”
“So where exactly do you fit into the scheme of things then?”
“Back when I was still a young fighter pilot I got separated from the rest of my squadron during a dogfight, I’d taken my fighter up to its top altitude and the sky darkened. For the first time I was high enough to see the curve of the world and I could marvel at the hugeness of what was above me. Course I didn’t pay attention to my airspeed and the bally crate stalled and dived, I had to glide the old gal back down from the roof of the world. I’ll do anything to get back up there, have nothing between me and space.”
“You’re mad, you know that right?” Grunted Hayworth after he’d taken a few puffs on his pipe. “Well madder than most who don’t want to keep their feet quite firmly planted on terra firma.”
“Perhaps I am, perhaps not.” Wright conceded. “But the Commonwealth needs something to drag itself back onto its feet after the battering it took during the war, otherwise it’ll be years if not decades of austerity. I believe space is the answered, untold potential just beyond our grasp.”
“Hm, you are being bally serious here aren’t you?” Hayworth sighed. “You’re actually going to bally try.”
“Indeed, I have an appointment with the Prime Minister in a couple of weeks.”
“Crikey...” Exclaimed Hayworth before he sat back to take a puff on his pipe. “Suppose you want me to join this mad scheme of yours don’t you?”
“It’s why I invited you here, I need your expertise gleamed from all your rocket tests.”
“Right,” Muttered Hayworth as he thought for a moment. “We’re gonna need funding and I doubt the government will cough up more than a handful of pennies.”
“I’ve...got it all covered. “Replied Wright. “Fancy another drink?”
