The Story of One Continent Chapter 18

Cornelius took out his binoculars. He glared at the target.

Circling the riverbank was an amphibious craft, a biplane s.h.i.+ning a loud silver.

“Hah hah!” Cornelius guffawed, pressing the call b.u.t.ton.

Four of the crafts from the former Teruto Base were surveillance seaplanes. They had been picked out of the planes left in the hangars, quickly made usable again after being refueled and repaired.

They were small biplanes with two floats each, once a mainstay of the sou Be-Il military but now slowly being phased out of use.

Though the model was theoretically intended for surveillance, it was also equipped with two 7.7mm machine guns, allowing it to engage in dogfights in a limited capacity. It was no slouch in speed, either, which was why the men had chosen this model. The crafts were painted in green-tone camouflage. They were two-seaters but carried only one man each, their aviator hats and goggles sticking out of their open c.o.c.kpits.

The last plane was a brown liaison craft. It was long and thin like a fish stripped to the bone, with landing gear sticking out from its underside. The craft was unarmed.

Although it was an outdated model, it still boasted top-notch short-distance landing and takeoff capabilities. It could even land and take off on rough terrain.

In the past, when this model was still considered new, Benedict had flown the same craft—albeit with a different seat configuration—and landed in a square in Kunst with Fiona.

Cornelius sat in the back, wearing his camouflage gear. He ordered the pilot to bank to the right and break formation. Then he contacted the rest of his men.

The men responded with enthusiasm.

Benedict’s plane and the four Western crafts pa.s.sed one another by in the middle of the Lutoni.

If a plane were to turn to escape at this point, it would make itself completely vulnerable to enemy fire. Benedict climbed at maximum speed, lunging into the midst of the formation. His four opponents also accelerated to pa.s.s him by. This strategy had the downside of potentially leading to a midair collision, but it also opened up a chance for fly-by fire.

Benedict remarked casually. In the back seat, Major Travas was loading a full magazine into the a.s.sault rifle he had kept in a bag.

There were 10 seconds before the crafts pa.s.sed each other.

“All right,” Benedict said, changing channels. he cried in Bezelese.

“Huh?” “What?” “Hm?” “Oh?”

The other pilots fell into a sudden panic.

In that moment of confusion, the crafts pa.s.sed one another by without firing a shot.

“Those are some ancient surveillance models. Where did they dredge them up?” Benedict wondered, banking. he said, catching up to the other planes and entering formation next to them. He positioned himself on the right side of the plane on the far right.

Benedict’s eyes met those of the man on the plane at the end. He grinned and gave a wave.

asked the man. Major Travas could hear his voice as well.

said Benedict.

Several seconds later, the man replied with stunning honesty.

Benedict said, flas.h.i.+ng the sides of his craft to prove his point. At the same time, he discreetly pushed the craft closer to the man’s.

“I knew it!” Benedict cried triumphantly from his seat, sliding in even closer. He switched to Major Travas.

An a.s.sault rifle roared over the Lutoni River.

Major Travas unfolded the stock, raised the gun, chambered the first round, and took precise aim. Then he opened fire.

It was one shot on semi-automatic mode. Blood gushed from the head of the pilot.

The man died instantly, his right hand going limp with the control stick still in it. The craft slowly ascended, but lost speed and balance—then it flipped over into a spiral before cras.h.i.+ng into the Lutoni.

Benedict ordered, sliding in closer to the next seaplane.

Major Travas switched the a.s.sault rifle to automatic mode and took aim.

He fired without a second’s hesitation. The pilot was still staring in a daze when the bullets came down on him like hail.

About five shots later, Major Travas turned to the engine and continued pulling the trigger.

Sparks flew from the engine near the nose. Then came a puff of white smoke.

Major Travas did not stop. He fought the recoil from the automatic fire with the strength he built up while in the hospital. Sh.e.l.l casings leapt from the right side of the gun and scattered in the wind.

Thirty spent casings later, the seaplane began spewing fire from the engine. And it fell to the ground in a trail of black smoke, carrying its fatally wounded pilot.

Benedict gave Major Travas two seconds to put away his gun before diving hard to the right to escape.

Only then did the two remaining seaplanes notice that something was amiss.

“d.a.m.ned maggots!” Cornelius roared, watching two crafts falling into the river. His craft was hanging back—putting its low-speed cruising capabilities to good use—and had just found the wreckage.

The liaison craft landed on the Roxche side, about 300 meters from the river. Taking off in the mud was not difficult for this model.

Cornelius slid the hatch open and stepped out, grabbing a Sou Be-Il military-issue submachine gun from behind his seat.

This was the same model that Benedict used during the commotion at Ikstova. It had a wooden stock and looked like a sawn-off rifle. The gun took curved magazines that held 30 handgun rounds.

Cornelius put on suspenders and a belt with a pouch containing three spare magazines over his combat uniform. He also wrapped a camouflage-patterned bandana on his head. “Stand by overhead and come back once the coast is clear!”

The pilot nodded.

Once Cornelius had gotten to a safe distance, the liaison craft taxied and took off in the blink of an eye. And it escaped at a low alt.i.tude to avoid the dogfight overhead.

“Now, then…”

Hefting his submachine gun over his shoulder, Cornelius crouched low and grabbed fistfuls of mud. He spread the mud over his face, ears, and neck.

His eyes glinted amidst the perfect camouflage. Cornelius took slow, determined steps towards the wreckage.

The amphibious craft was circling to the right at full throttle. The surface of the Lutoni whipped past Major Travas’s eyes.

Behind them were two hostile seaplanes, hot on their tail and preparing to open fire.

Benedict flew out of the bank and began flying low over the water. He headed due north with the river.

There were less than two meters between the floats and the water’s surface. The altimeter was already pointing at zero.

The surveillance crafts pursuing the plane gave up on flying at the same alt.i.tude and attempted to shoot from above.

“Sorry, but no thanks,” Benedict said, moving slightly to the side. He easily avoided the attack. Bullets. .h.i.t the water and left splashes on the river’s surface.

“Dammit!” the pursuer hissed. Attacking a plane flying low over the water from above and behind was dangerous, as he could easily lose track of his position while firing and crash into the river. This was why his shooting time was limited and his aim easy to predict.

Benedict checked his rear-view mirror as he quickly avoided the shots and resumed his position in quick succession. The mirror was a custom addition of his from the hangar at Ikstova.

The low-alt.i.tude chase continued for about a minute. But soon the two pursuers stopped their attacks, realizing that their efforts were in vain. They simply maintained a constant distance from Benedict as they chased him down.

said Benedict.

asked Major Travas.

Benedict glanced at the fuel gauge.

Major Travas furrowed his brow.

Benedict looked around. “Hah hah!” he laughed, and pulled the control stick.

The amphibious craft entered a rapid ascent. It climbed and slowly began banking to the right.

The pursuers also rose after him, closing the distance.

Major Travas alone was left confused. he asked.

All Travas could do now was do as he was told. He clutched the a.s.sault rifle tightly and bore the weight of gravity upon him.

The amphibious craft was suddenly completely exposed. The pursuers took quick notice.

The men argued over the radio for some time, but finally came to a consensus.

The craft that had been flying closer to Benedict’s banked left, allowing the other pilot to take the kill.

the second pilot hissed, but then muttered to himself. “Gonna shoot me in the back, are you? Not if I shoot you both first!”

Benedict was not even circling at this point. He was simply flying due east.

“All right!”

The pursuer turned and gave chase at full speed. He quickly closed the distance, putting his finger on the trigger lever.

That was when Benedict’s craft suddenly banked left into a dive.

And another craft entered the pursuer’s sights. It was headed right for him.

“Huh?”

The new craft was a green seaplane. A biplane with a wingspan of 11 meters and less than 10 meters from nose to tail, even including the floats. Although it seated two, the back seat was empty. Its pilot sat alone with a finger on the trigger lever.

“HEY! LEAVE MY HUSBAND ALONE!”

The threat never reached the pursuers’ ears. Instead, their eyes spotted two flashes from the new craft’s nose.

“Huh?”

That was the last thing the closer pursuer saw.

The 7.7mm machine gun rounds tore into his propellers, engine, fuselage, and his head, killing him instantly.

The two crafts pa.s.sed each other by. One of them evaded to the left. The other slowly tilted forward, left without a pilot. And it slowly descended with a thin stream of fuel ribboning behind it. Eventually, the craft drove itself into the Lutoni with a splash.

“s.h.i.+t! Reinforcements!” cried the remaining pursuer, who had been planning to shoot his ally in the back. “But if I shoot that one down, I get all the pay for myself, right?” He nodded and tracked the new craft as it disappeared to the right.

Then the pursuer checked his left side. The amphibious craft he had been pursuing was long gone.

His prey decided, the man banked right into a dive.

<…allison. it’s="" you,="" isn’t="" it?=""> said Major Travas.

Benedict spoke up before Allison could get a word in.

Allison said.

Benedict and Major Travas looked in the direction of Allison’s craft.