|In Development| Steel and Scales

Chapter 3: Jade Squadron

Qibli
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5008 A.S.
Scorpion Den - Southern Outpost

Qibli sat up groggily as a wailing klaxon reverberated through the sandstone walls. He shook his head in confusion, trying to clear his hazy mind. Absentmidedly, he realized that someone was pounding at the door.

"Qibli, you up? We gotta scramble!" Qibli recognised the voice, belonging to Parch. Like Qibli, Parch was a mercenary pilot who was also a member of the Outclaw Syndicate. He was Qibli's wingman, and also one of his closest friends.

"Yeah, I'm coming." Qibli groaned. He stood up, stretching, and padded over to the water basin on his makeshift desk, splashing it over his face. After a minute, he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, where he was met by a large, scruffy SandWing who was eyeing him with uncharacteristic concern.

"What is it? Another raid?" Qibli asked, frowning at the worried look on Parch's muzzle.

"Could be. OASIS-3 picked up a group of contacts heading South, probably from Burn's stronghold. SDHQ believes it's a strike package heading to attack the city." Parch replied as they hurried through the hallway. "They're scrambling fighters to intercept. That means us." With that, they exited the compound and made their way towards the makeshift airstrip where two aircraft sat on the tarmac, engines hot. Climbing into his delta-wing Mirage 2000, Parch gave Qibli a wry grin. "Who knows. Maybe Thorn will have another MiG killer."

Within minutes they were airborne, soaring over the desert and streaking towards the blurry shape of the Scorpion Den. They flew in tandem, with Parch in the lead and Qibli trailing close beside him. Qibli let out a breath, trying to calm his nerves. He'd flown plenty of missions with the goal of eliminating Burn's forces before they could attack the Scorpion Den's unsuspecting population. More often than naught, they were already long gone, or dust, by the time he'd arrived. Still, as they approached the outskirts of the city, Qibli struggled to quell the spine-tingling anticipation that prickled along his scales.

"SDHQ to unidentified aircraft, request ID." A garbled voice called out to them, startling Qibli.

"This is Mojave Flight to SDHQ." Parch replied, his solemn tone just failing to conceal a note of characteristic cockiness. "On course to intercept targets of interest. You gonna let us loose?"

"Roger that, Mojave. We have multiple contacts bearing triple-zero from your position. Speed and signature suggests possible MiGs. "

"Copy that." Parch replied. He dipped his wing towards Qibli, beckoning. "Let's give them our warmest welcome, shall we?" Qibli obliged, rolling his bird to the left to follow Parch as he extended to the west.

As they buzzed the rooftops of the sprawling city, Qibli inverted his aircraft to catch a glimpse of the streets below. Usually they were flooded with activity; dragons bustling through the open streets, moving in and out of buildings and wandering between various vendors. Now, however, they remained eerily vacant, as if the city itself knew something was amiss.

"Awfully quiet down there." Qibli observed, scanning the sky uneasily as he righted his aircraft. "I don't like this. You think we'll run into any trouble?"

"From Burn's fighters? I doubt it. Those loyalist-types are all cowards; they'll turn tail. No reason to get their claws dirty for some half-assed hit-and-run." Parch huffed indignantly. His confident attitude always had a contagious effect on other dragons, and despite the seriousness of the situation, Qibli could feel his weariness slowly begin to subside. Then, with comically impeccable timing, a frantic voice suddenly cried out to them.