Thread: Ivory Wings

This is something that's been whirling in my head for quite a while. I decided I should post it and see how long I can keep it up.

Prologue

Bleep... bleep... bleep... bleep... bleep... bleep...

Such was the sound heard inside the cockpit of a heavily damaged aircraft as it flew over an ocean. Its right wing was broken off at the base, causing the entire structure to lean to the right as it flew. Smoke and sparked drifted off of cannons mounted under the base of each wing, suggesting that they weren't currently in working condition. Smoke was billowing from the exhaust, intermixing with the red exhaust flame that already existed. Arcs of electricity occasionally danced over the surface of the craft, emphasizing the need for repairs.

Bleep... bleep... bleep... bleep... bleep... bleep...

"Ugh... I know already. Just please last long enough to get back to base."The weary voice of the pilot groaned out. The pilot was clad in black flight gear, the only thing visible being weary blue eyes.

"Figures that of all things to malfunction, the damn low shield warning system wasn't on the list. Luckily, all the enemy fighters were handled." Immediately after this sentence was uttered, fate decided to prove the poor pilot wrong and have two fighters pop out from behind nearby clouds and approach the damaged ship.

"Damn! Figures God would have a since of humor! Ah, well." The pilot clicked a button on top of the flight stick, clearly expecting something to happen. Oddly enough, the only result was a rapid beeping and an orange idiot light flashing on the control console that read 'Twin Laser Malfunction'.

"Ah, dammit!" The pilot pressed a button on the control console, then hit the weapon button again. A 'Missile Launcher Empty' light flashed to life for a brief moment.

"Damn! Now weapons to fight with! Guess all I can do is out run 'em." Another button was pressed, and the craft's engine let out a plaintive whine as the power output increased, blasting forward and away from the pursuing fighters at top speed.

Had the ship's radar been working, it would have become apparent that the craft was still being pursued. Since this was not the case, the pilot was alerted only by the craft shaking upon a shot hitting home, and the subsequent sirens that followed.

Wee-wee-wee-wee!

Bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep-bleep!

"Ahh! Damn it all!" The pilot cursed, maneuvering the craft away from several more shots, then through a wall of clouds. The intention was to lose the enemy fighters, since they couldn't be fought properly. By doing it this way, the pilot hoped to preserve what little shielding the ship had remaining, although the shrill bleeping sound was breaking her concentration. After what felt like a mere minute, the pilot directed the ship downward out of the cloud, discovering that it was raining.

"Tch. Figures it's rain. It kind of fits, after all that's happened today." The pilot maneuvered the ship leftward to counter the rightward lean as land appeared on the horizon.

"Finally! Salvation, here I come!" Sadly, fate had other ideas, and a bolt of lightning came down from the cloud, striking the ship directly on the left wing. The impact blew off the left wing, restoring symmetry in the ship. In addition, the lightning strike overloaded all of the ship's remaining online systems, rendering a crash inevitable as the ship started falling, with only its forward momentum keeping it going.

"This is not my day!" The pilot shouted in dismay, hitting several buttons in an attempt to restore some function. Sadly, nothing happened, save for the ship continuing on its crash course with a town on the mainland.

Meanwhile, in said mainland town, people were going about their daily business. That is, until someone looked up and saw a strange aircraft with smoke and flames billowing from its rear end falling right towards them.

"Oh my God! Someone's plane is going to crash into the town!" The man cried out, triggering a panic. Everyone scattered as the doomed aircraft approached, apparently on a crash course with the castle that lay in the heart of the town. The craft skimmed over one building, scraped over the next, then crashed the wall off the castle, skidding to a stop approximately 100 feet away from the wall through which it crashed. It was a miracle that the ship didn't mow down any of the numerous people in the room.

"What is the meaning of this outrage!" A man shouted, staring aghast at the wrecked fighter that had dropped in unannounced. Its state was even worse then before, as the nose was crumpled in from the impact with the wall, and the glass covering the cockpit was shattered. A few moments passed, and the pilot crawled out of the cockpit. The pilot started to jump down, but ended up falling off. Upon impact, the headgear fell off, exposing a head of long blonde hair and a feminine face.

"Oww! Ungh..." The pilot groaned, rolling onto her back and panting raggedly. She slowly opened her eyes and saw several people standing over her.

"What in God's name happened? Are you alright?" A woman asked.

"Get... General... Sinclair..." The pilot gasped out before everything went black.

Let's take things back to a month or so before that fateful day. This will begin the story of Camille O'Brien, 18-year-old was has been accepted into a flight academy. She dreams of becoming an ace pilot like her father, who commands his own small unit in the Air Force. Today is Camille's first day at the flight academy, and by this time, she should be up ready to go. Instead, we find her in bed, fast asleep. Eventually, her cell phone, which is on her nightstand, starts ringing. She lazily reaches an arm over and smacks it, accidentally turning on the speaker phone.

“Damned loud alarm clock...” She mumbles, rolling over.

“Sleepyhead! Get out of the bed and get out here!” The voice on the other end shouts, startling Camille out her bed and onto the floor.

“What the hell...? Alex?” She groans, standing up and rubbing her eyes. “What time is it?”

“It's 0745, Camille! Hurry up and get dressed and get out here! We have to be there by 0800!” Alex shouts.

“...Oh, crap! I'll be right out” Camille shouts, hurriedly changing into a black military outfit she'd gotten from her father. Once she's done changing, she quickly fixes her hair, and spares a quick look in the mirror. Her golden brown hair is a bit sloppy, but she doesn't have time to fix it. Her hazel eyes show sleepiness, but nothing could be done about it. Except for her height, her athletic figure is obscured by her uniform. She doesn't care much about it, because there isn't much to see on her. All the better, since she wouldn't be as good of a fighter as she is if she had big breasts getting in her way.

Once she's done, she runs out the door, grabbing an apple, her bag, and her keys. After closing and locking the door, she puts her bag over her shoulder and tucks her keys in her pocket. She turns and sees a tall girl with short black hair and brown eyes wearing a Russian military uniform. This is Aleksandra Chekov, better known as Alex, Camille's best friend.

“Took you long enough. We've got ten minutes!” Alex says, showing off her rather thick Russian accent, grabbing Camille by her wrist and taking off down the street.

“I'm sorry about this, Alex! I really meant to wake up at the normal time!” Camille says, effortlessly keeping with Alex.

“Meaning to do something and actually doing it are two different things.” Alex replies. “And besides, I've gotten used to it. Someone has to make sure that you don't oversleep too much, am I right?”

“I resent that.” Camille whines, grimacing in disapproval at Alex's remark.

“You're not allowed to resent it, because it's true.” Alex counters, winking. “Although technically, you're allowed to resent the truth, you just have to accept it.”

“Whatever.” Camille mutters, rolling her eyes. After a few blocks, they finally reach a large school building. “Oh, look! We made it!”


“With 5 minutes left. We need to hurry and find our class.” Alex adds, pulling Camille into the building and stopping at an intersection. She puts down her bag and opens it, to pull out a card with a number on it. After looking around for a moment, she puts her card away and picks up her bag. “This way.” She grabs Camille arm and drags her down several hallways, finding and entering their classroom as the bell began to ring.

As they begin to catch their breath, they become aware of several pairs of eyes upon them. Camille looks up first, seeing no fewer than 15 males in the room, not counting the teacher. Alex looks up a few seconds later, and tenses up.

“Right on time.” The teacher said, studying both girls. “Welcome to the flight academy. Would the two of you introduce yourselves?”

“Right. I am Camille O'Brien.” Camille says, giving an uninterested wave to the boys.

“Privet. I am Aleksandra Chekov. Call me Alex.” Alex says, giving a half-hearted salute to the boys.

“Oh, Russian. Pleasure to have the two of you.” The teacher says.

“Guess they weren't kidding. We do have girls here.” One male chuckles, surveying two like a lion surveys a herd of wildebeest.

“That's just rich, man. Who'd have thought that one girl, let alone two, would even think of coming to this flight academy?” Another boy asks, looking at the two with a humorous expression.

“For your information, we were invited.” Camille says standing up and glaring. “I suggest you get the facts straight, or I'll straighten those teeth of yours.”

“Ooooohhhhhh!” The boys in the room laughed, stepping back. “Girlie's got a temper.”

“You think that just because I'm a girl, that I can't become a pilot?” Camille asks, stepping forward. “It runs in my family. My father commands his own squadron of the Air Force, and is widely regarded as one of the best pilots to ever grace the skies. I am doing to do the same, and no one is going to stop me.”

“Very nice speech. Very inspirational.” One boy says as they all start clapping. “However, there's one thing you don't seem to notice.”

“Really? Enlighten me.” Camille challenges, crossing her arms in a manner that straightens her back and rolls her shoulders back, as well as raising her chin in defiance.

“You-neither of you, really- have the balls to be a pilot.” The boy replies, triggering a laughing fit.

“Oh, and I suppose you pointing out our literal lack of balls is supposed to make your own bigger?” Alex demands, standing tall. “Commenting on one's lack of balls could be seen as a compensation for a similar lacking on the part of the commenter.”

“Oooooohhhhhh!” The boys in the room are now in shock at Alex's fiery stab at the boy's pride.

“Alright, that's it! I'm not gonna have some girl insult my manhood.” The boy shouts, stepping towards them in anger.

“One cannot insult what does not exist.” Alex replies, unable to suppress a smile.

“Oh, she got you, dude!” Another boy shouts out.

“Grr... you should have stayed in the kitchen.” The boys growls standing over Alex.

“Did he just...” Camille and Alex both ask in disbelief, exchanging shocked looks. The shock quickly turns into anger, and they both glare at him venomously.

“Alright, that's enough.” The teacher says, getting between them. “You stop being a sexist prick, and you two stop snarking the ever-loving crap of the boys.”

“Pfeh. Shame the man who starts the entire thing doesn't have the balls to finish it.” Alex huffs, rolling her eyes.

“What did I say?” The teacher asks, scowling at Alex.

“You want us to stop snarking. But he started this whole affair.” Alex replies. “If he cannot handle the repercussions, then he should not have started it in the first place. I am perfectly willing to drop it as soon as he apologizes.”

“I'm not apologizing to anyone!” The boy shouts, glaring at Alex.

“Because you lack the balls to admit your wrongdoings.” Alex chuckles.

“Enough!” The teacher shouts. “Brian, you will apologize.”

“It's okay, sir. I will just beat it out of him if he refuses to cooperate.” Alex says with a smirk.

“Bring it on, bitch! I'm gonna kick your ass!” Brian shouts, getting in Alex's face.

“You have just sealed your fate.” Alex replies, smiling evilly. “Camille, if you would kindly step back.”

“Gladly.” Camille replies, stepping away.

“Hey! Stop it, both of you.” The teacher shouts, pushing Brian away. “There will be no fighting in here!”

“I have no desire to fight.” Alex replies with a shrug and a creepy smile. “However, if he touches me, there's no guarantee he will get the hand back. I can only imagine the wonderful sound of your bones breaking.”

“I can vouch for that, sir.” Camille offers. “I've seen every fight she's had. As a rule, we never start a fight that we weren't commanded to start, but we will finish it. And she likes breaking bones.” She shudders at the last part.

“Sheesh, where do women get the idea of fighting?” Brian asks.

“Newsflash, we aren't in the pre-1920s era.” Camille snaps. “Get it through your testosterone-saturated brain!”

“Who asked you, bitch?” Brian shouts back.

“Hey! Do not talk to her that way!” Alex shouts. “Sir, can you please remove him from our vicinity? I fear I may break my rule if this sexist tirade continues.”

“Brian, go outside and cool off.” The teacher says, glaring at him.

“Get these women out of here. They don't belong here.” Brian scoffed.

“NOW, dammit! Go!” The teacher shouts. “Or I'll kick your ass!”

“Whatever, damn.” Brian huffs, leaving the room. Almost immediately, the girls relax.

“Spasibo, sir. We are relaxing now.” Alex says, grabbing her bag and going to an empty seat.

“Thank you.” Camille says, partially translating for Alex as she follows her.

“Alright then, now that that's resolved...” The teacher says, going to the front of the classroom. “I am Mr. Beilschmidt, and welcome to Flight 101.”