UCT Ch 17

Diana watched the man’s hands, observing the movement of his thick knuckles and long fingers.

Seeing those rough, strong hands move delicately as if handling a fragile creature, she felt an indescribable emotion, one she didn’t want to delve into further.

Diana quickly turned her head away, muttering to herself.

‘He must be the type who treats his fighter like a lover.’

And then, the man, who had been deeply engaged in his inspection, unexpectedly answered a question that wasn’t even asked.

“It’s an Exton-6b. They doubled the machine guns from the previous model.”

“Pardon?”

“You kept looking, so I thought you were curious. Is there a problem with me telling you?”

How had he noticed her sideways glances? She felt embarrassed as if caught stealing. Feeling her cheeks warm up, Diana tried to make up a story she didn’t believe in.

“…Thank you for telling me, Lieutenant. It’s a really nice plane.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie. Richard Ashwood’s fighter looked ‘cool’ in the colloquial sense.

Its body was slimmer than a frigate, with sleek, streamlined wings. Even Diana, who wasn’t familiar with modern fighters, could tell it was a well-crafted piece.

However, there was one thing more noticeable than the fighter itself, and that was the color of the aircraft.

Richard’s fighter, the Exton-6b, was as white as snow.

Although there were dark smudges here and there, it was entirely painted in pure white from nose to tail.

And on that white background, numerous black lines were drawn, likely kill marks indicating the number of enemy fighters shot down. It was both chilling and imposing.

Incidentally, painting a fighter entirely white…

White was the symbol of Fernan Lowell. Even during his lifetime, many pilots painted their fighters white, wanting to emulate the “White Hawk.” It seemed this man also respected the “White Hawk.”

Even this arrogant lieutenant had some human qualities.

Diana asked Richard tentatively.

“It seems you respect the White Hawk.”

At the same time, the man’s hand, which had been examining the fighter, stopped. His expression was hidden by the aircraft.

“Why would you think that?”

“……?”

Why would she think that? Was he genuinely asking this out of ignorance? Diana awkwardly smiled as she answered.

“Because you painted it white, I thought perhaps…”

“Ah, I see. You could think that.”

Only then, as if just realizing the color of his own fighter, the man nodded in understanding. He chuckled with a low, impatient laugh.

“Usually, the fools who volunteer here…”

“……”

“Are often drawn by the fame of the White Hawk like moths to a flame.”

“But I have no intention of burning to death in that fire. I’m not so weak as to worship someone as an idol.”

The smile faded from Diana’s lips.

Clearly, there was nothing wrong with what the man had said.

There was no law that all pilots had to respect Fernan Lowell, nor was there one stating only those who respected him could paint their planes white.

So, she could just let it go.

But while she thought this rationally, she couldn’t help but ask herself inwardly.

‘Aren’t you an idol too? Bringerton’s new idol.’

Isn’t it contradictory to despise and find idol worship repulsive when you’re an idol yourself? Such a question flashed through Diana’s mind, only to be quickly erased by the sound of a nearby siren.

— 3rd Battalion, prepare for takeoff!

It was the hellish bell signaling the first launch.

🌷🌷🌷

{ The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling,

Calling for you, not for me.

From the British Royal Air Force song of World War I, <The Bells of Hell Go Ting-a-ling-a-ling> }

It seemed like only a few minutes had passed since the launch order was given, yet when she came to her senses, they were already flying at 5,000 meters above. Everything felt like a dream, with the oxygen and sense of reality both being scarce.

Through the front glass of the cockpit, she could see the formation of fighters slicing through the sky ahead.

Lieutenant Ashwood was leading at the front, with Owen and Bryce’s fighters flanking him on either side. Diana was following behind Bryce, so from above, it would look like a triangle with one side longer than the others.

The radio was silent. The only sounds were occasional reports from the base radar controller about the incoming enemy, while the pilots maintained silence, focusing only on flying.

No one had much to say.

According to the controller, the 3rd Battalion was in a dire situation. They had to stop around a hundred enemy bombers heading toward the capital, a truly dog-like situation.

Judging by the pale faces of the pilots upon hearing the orders, this wasn’t a common occurrence.

…Of course, it shouldn’t be common.

Even if you scraped together all the fighters from the 3rd Battalion, they wouldn’t reach forty.

A 100 vs. 40 fight. It was unknown how many of those were actual fighters, excluding the bombers, but even taking that into account, the numerical disadvantage was too clear. It was like hitting a rock with an egg.

Did the headquarters that gave the deployment order have at least a shred of conscience? They added one more directive:

‘Hold out and engage safely until support forces from the nearest Perseus Squadron arrive.’

To ‘hold out‘ and ‘engage safely.’ Whether that was possible in an air battle where everything can turn into a dogfight after one clash was questionable, but the order was given nonetheless.

Diana gripped the control stick harder, suppressing the laughter that kept rising in her throat.

‘What great luck for my first sortie.’

The number 100 alone was terrifying enough, but they were headed for the capital. If even one Arke bomber got through, the damage would be incalculable.

Of course, she had fought under worse conditions before, but the burden of this being her first sortie against her former homeland, Arke, was overwhelming.

This was far different from a one-on-one duel with a stray fighter.

She was so tense that her hands, despite being in gloves, were dripping with sweat even in the -30-degree cold.

Richard’s voice came through the radio, as calm as a weather forecaster.

“They’ll be out soon. Stand by.”

And shortly after he said that, an unbelievable sight unfolded.

As the thin cloud cover cleared, the enemy appeared, flying in flocks like migratory birds, blackening the sky. Just looking at it made her feel nauseous and dizzy.

The massive bombers, like black whales, were closely escorted by smaller fighters, their wings almost touching each other in formation.

In short, it was a scenario where no strategy seemed feasible.

‘This is just…’

Not just winning, but even surviving seemed difficult.

— Damn it. This isn’t right.

— We need to retreat now.

Bryce and Owen seemed to share the sentiment. Their curses filled the radio. They must have never seen a formation of bombers this large before.

On the other hand, Richard remained silent. Bryce urged the silent flight leader.

— What do we do? This is beyond our capacity. We should retreat for now.

Richard’s voice came through the crackling radio, low and decisive, addressing everyone.

— No. If we retreat, the capital will be hit.

— Lieutenant?

— If you can’t do it, fall back. I’ll attack the two rear escorts and the bombers first.

— …Are you serious?

But Bryce must have known. Richard Ashwood couldn’t be more serious. He was prepared to take down as many as he could even if it meant dying. He gave his orders in a voice devoid of any tension.

“Turn left 45 degrees in 5 seconds. Maintain attack formation.”

“Lieutenant, if we go in here, we’re all dead!”

Click.

The radio went silent.

— Shit.

Bryce let out a rough curse. Owen began reciting some prayer he’d picked up somewhere. And Diana, she stopped thinking.

5 seconds.

Diana’s gaze automatically went to the watch on her wrist.

The second hand ticked off each second. With each tick, her 22 years of life flashed before her eyes.

Click.

[Poor thing. She didn’t even shed a tear when her parents died, must have been a huge shock.]

[It’s a relief that Ben and Gilda are taking her in.]

Click.

[Diana. I know we’ve been friends for a long time… but I still want to date you.]

Click.

[Diana. I should tell you now, Ben and I were really worried about you.]

Click.

[The sergeant’s parents will never forgive me. I encouraged their precious daughter to come to this place where people die every day.]

Click.

[If you came here expecting to be treated like a porcelain doll, you can leave right now.]

The 5 seconds the man had mentioned passed. Immediately, Diana tilted the control stick and stepped on the pedal. She didn’t forget to open the throttle to max out the engine.

All actions were performed with a completely empty mind.

Then, the two fighters simultaneously dove at a steep angle, charging into the swarm of Arke aircraft.

Into the maw of hell.