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It was a quiet summer night at Burpelson Air Force Base. Some would deem it suspiscious. Quiet and peace at a military base. In times of tension between the two states,when presidents of both were holding their dirty fingers on the red button. And who will press it first was a question of time, not possibility. But most just held their breath afraid that it might disturb the fragile peace. Locusts were screaming, vying in the grass, like a surprisingly talantless military orchestra. And the sky was coated in stars, bright despite the light pollution. Suddenly a stream of wind and a long whistle broke in this scenery and made the wave of locusts cover the pavement. It was a Spitfire that flashed by. Small in comparison to other planes at the base, but maneuverable and deadly. After her a flying fortress B-17 followed. This time with only one member of the plane crew. Usually, their training flights were held differently. They were held responsibly. But for Ripper it was much more than just a training flight tonight. Much less of an aerial mock dogfight, than an attempt to prove that smart-ass from RAF, that it's too soon for him to turn up his nose under Ripper's command. Not only Jackie the old dog knows a few new tricks, he has tricks of his own to be taught. And a light, teasingly maneuvring, barely-a-plane before him - taunted that viscious dog in him. Jack blindly started the engine and it made propelers rotate faster.
His teeth tightened around the cigar and he felt ash falling on his collar. His palms,that gripped the lever and pulled it on were getting sweaty. His isolated fortress moved faster. It seemed like the Boeing's nose was ready to thrust in the Spitfire's tail. But to his surprise the Spitfire dived down. She hid behind her bigger opponent and dissapeared from sight. Jack started turning his head in panic, still holding on to the controls, until a metal carcass glinted above his head. That mad mad englishman! Mandrake's plane dropped on her back in air under a dangerous angle and sailed right over Jack. Ripper was ready to swear that the captain waved him before going for a second roll and dissapearing in the clouds. Normally he'd get shot down by the gunners(for this show-off atleast), but Ripper was alone! He started looking back, tilting to the right in synch with his Boeing.His back was fully open for attack and it scared him! Being under such a wimpy man and his wimply plane - wasn't in his style. He had to end up on top whatever it takes. So Ripper also dived down. Mandrake on the other side felt his heart beating faster in time with engine. Ripper's stubborn confidence made hair on the back of his head stand on end.Goosebumps rained down his skin from the thought of a strong plane that was circling below him to take advantage,being able shoot him down. Even if it was just a training flight. Mandrake trailed his palm along the controls gently, with no force raising the plane's nose. It was breathtaking. Maybe from his own maneuvers, maybe from being preyed on. His plane ascended and hid in clouds again, standing aloft. Ripper's followed. Holding her nose almost vertically his plane thrusted through clouds. Until they both ended up on the same level. Both planes now circled in a rhythmic dance. In this moment Mandrake felt like he could feel Ripper's pulse inside his veins. And Ripper could feel his. Their planes made rounds one after another as if trying to sink their "teeth" into their tails. Just as one tried to shorten the distance, his opponent maneuvred closer, making him retreat back. It felt like waltz. As if it meant: "Look, don't touch." The iron birds roared with their engines like mad dogs. And this inaccessibility, this untouchability, only made Jack try and get closer. Just a little closer. Lionel followed every change of position in the wind flow with his eyes. But he couldn't help but drop his dark gaze on the city covered with street lights under them. And somewhere there, perhaps, a sea is...Their wings almost touched making Mandrake wuss out from danger. He broke the distance,so Ripper rushed after his plane as if wanting to ram into her. The Boeing moved slower, yes, but inevitably. For a second it seemed like the Spitfire was going to fall nose-first to the ground. But swayed by the wind the plane lost her speed going for lazy full stalls. Like a falling leaf. Ripper's massive plane lowered too. Jack even half-rised from his seat and spat out his cigar right on the controls panel. Did he just gave up?Or is he just pretending? Does he want to deceive Jack? His target started falling down rapidly again. Jack muttured something against his breath and followed Mandrake again. It looked like both of them were going to crash. They were falling like two birds hit by a bullet. Ripper felt sweat dribbling down his nose and decided: "To hell with it!". He was squeezed into his seat from the sheer speed. His fingers went numb and he pulled on the control yoke with all his might. His muscles pulled taut just like the Boeing's mechanisms. B-17 nose jerked up high and the enginges roared again. The plane leveled out in the air. Ripper coughed out the last clouds of smoke from his lungs still not letting go of the controls. Mandrake meanwhile was calmly spinning around his axis making general grind his teeth nervously. Gracefully whistling the Spitfire smoothly went from from vertical to horizontal position. No wonder this daredevil(both plane and her pilot)used to give germans hell in the best years. Usually after such dive the bombs dropped. Jack jerked his head till the kaleidoscope from green and blue focused into a clear image of a plane. He squinted and saw the lowered undercarriage. Like a dog would lower it's tail on a sign of submission to it's owner. It would be hard to imagine a clearer white flag raised. As if assuring him in honesty of the signal, Mandrake lowered his height even more. His plane landed on the runway like a feather. He drove a bit more, giving Jack more space to land. As soon as Mandrake got out of the cockpit, made some steps on the wing and touch the ground with just a tip of his toe – he was knocked down.
«Oh!» - his dark disheveled hair fell on his face. He found himself pressed under the weight of a bigger man. Ripper loomed over him with mad sparkles in his eyes. He smelled surprisingly sweet of sweat and unsurprisingly bitter of cigarette smoke.
«Uh?» – Mandrake asked fully perplexed trying to read the general's face and read his motifs. Ripper kept pressing on him with his well-fed american body then gently headbutted him and touched Mandrake's nose with a tip of his own.
«Oh!» – the captain exclaimed. Not out of pain, but out of surprise. Their palms entwined.
« Don't you ever do this again» – Jack whispered a bit resentful while pressing Mandrake to himself.
« Why are we whisperin—?» His question was cut off by a kiss of chapped lips. Not quite there yet. Just a kiss on his cheekbone. Mandrake turned his head without thinking and their lips touched. Ripper jerked, feeling like dark moustache tickled his upper lip. But instead of pulling away and feigning disgust(because it's just not right to kiss your captain!) - he only froze in place. He let Mandrake fill his lips with his. Their legs got tangled up and Mandrake's were slightly trembling. Jack pulled away, touching his cracked lips as if checking, wether the kiss was real. Lionel was nervously grabbing himself on the collar as if some...non-gentleman discomfiture happened. Though there was not a single lady.
«And don't you tell anyone about this» — Jack added,–«Or both of us will have problems. Do you understand, Mandrake?
«O-of course...» – Mandrake murmured still fidgeting with his collar.
«Tell no one. Ok?» – Said Ripper, more to himself than the man under him.
«Can you get up from me, please?» – Asked Lionel, finally coming to his senses. They'd just sit under the plane's wing snug like a bug in a rug. It smelled with fuel and night air. Suddenly Jack jumped up almost hitting his shoulder on the Spitfire. Mandrake slowly raised his gaze, as if asking him "where are you going?"
«You know, it's Friday. The end of the week and all...» ‐ The general started from afar, stretching and crunching his whole body, then continued: – «Maybe we could spend this time together?»
«Yes.» – Mandrake agreed, before Ripper could finish his offer. He realised that he was brushing back his deshieveled hair, with his "on duty" comb from his uniform pocket.
«Great.» – Jack brushed himself off and took off his shoes. And simply went almost barefoot by heated asphalt. Mandrake carefully got up, picked up Jack's worn shoes and ran after him like a loyal dog.