Aurorian Skies [Closed]

Mjölby, Prydania

Captain Jaki Klósen pulled up to his house. He had a lot on his mind, which made coming home something of a daunting prospect. Usually it was a relief. He'd see his wife and boy, and he'd unwind, but now... he had things to discuss. He sighed and grabbed his briefcase and his KPFH* officer's jacket as he got out of the car.

"Captain," his neighbour Olief said with a smile as he tended to some yard work. Jaki smiled back and waved. Thankfully Olief wasn't in a chatty mood this afternoon.

"Love, I'm..." he didn't even get to fully announce himself as he stepped in the front door.

"PABBI!" his two year old son Styrkollr proclaimed, running up to hug him.

"Hey, buddy!" he said happily as he knelt down, hugging him.
"How are you?"

The two year old laughed.
"Good! Ulfrik and I played pirates!"

"Oh pirates! You two up to no good?"

"Já!" his son chuckled.

"Styrkollr Emmanuel," his mother said, with a smile.
"Give your pabbi room to breath."

"Go on, listen to mama," Jaki said, as he stood.

"Hey love."

"Hey honey," Rosalie Iris Klósen replied, smiling as she leaned into her husband, kissing him softly.
"You... look like you have some news."

"Am I that obvious?"

"You are, flyboy," Rosalie joked.

"God, your Santonian accent is so..." he was gonna say "sexy," but he saw his son standing there, and just shifted.
"...cute."

"Don't change the subject," she smirked.
"Styr, finish your Spilvel tower. Mama and pabbi need to talk."

Jaki and Rosaline followed their son from the front door to the living room. Styr began to play with his Spilvel blocks again, happily, and Jaki took a seat at the table in the kitchen where he could still see his boy, setting his briefcase down on the floor and draping his jacket over his chair.

"Dinner smells good."

"It’s from Ms. Sayfansinn," Rosaline joked, referring to the grocery store chain Sayfansinn, known for their ready to go pre-made meals.

"Well it still smells good," Jaki replied as his wife sat down across from him.

"Are you still trying to change the subject? What's up?"

Jaki could sense some apprehension in his wife's voice, hidden under her upbeat demeanour. He remembered that her father back in Saintonge was a carrier officer in the navy. So she knew how these sorts of conversations could go. He shook his head insistently to reassure her.

"It’s a good problem, trust me."

"A good problem?"

"They want me to teach air combat at the new airforce academy they're building next to the base. I’d get a promotion."

"Oh my God that's wonderful!" Rosaline remarked, taking her husband's hand before she raised an eyebrow.
"Wait… it's wonderful. So why is this a problem."

"Well… I said it was a good problem."

"It's not a problem at all, Jaki."

Jaki sighed.
"I don't know how to teach."

Rosaline wrinkled her nose and whacked his arm.

"Owe!"

"You’re married to a teacher!"

"Ok but… no offense… you teach high schoolers. I’d be teaching fighter pilots."

"So my job would be harder. Got it," his wife remarked dryly, and Jaki chuckled.

"I mean… I don't know how to teach, and so I’m unsure."

"You teach fighter pilots already."

"That's just a few drills here and there. This is a full time academy. I’d be in the classroom more than I’d be in a plane."

Rosaline sighed and rolled her eyes.
"Saintonge, Prydania, it doesn't matter. Military men are all the same."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jaki asked, shifting a bit uncomfortably in his chair at the kitchen table.

"You saw combat so at least you should have it out of your system. We have a son. Come on Jaki. A promotion? More money? A safer posting? What part of this is bad? You want to chase that rush you get flying into your 50s when you could get a nice post where you'd provide for your family? Come on!" she insisted, some of her own frustrations from earlier in her life shining through.

It was Jaki’s turn to sigh, because he had an answer for her, and it was why he was hesitant about all of this.
"You lucked out because you married the one fighter jock with more brains than balls," he said softly so his kid didn't hear him.
"This isn't about me being terrified of a desk. But I don't know how to teach, not like I'd need to for this promotion. So if I accept… they're going to send me somewhere so I can learn how to be a military instructor."

"Somewhere?" Rosaline asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Where?"

"Easy Wind, Scalvia."

Rosaline blinked twice.
"Where's that?"

"Some place called 'Gichigan,' apparently. I don't know geography."

"Wait," Rosaline replied, standing up and heading over to the other end of the kitchen, next to the phone and a stack of papers, and pulled out a magazine. It had Hermaðurmaki* written across it in red letters, a magazine that catered to Royal Prydanian Armed Forces personnel’s wives. Rosaline thumbed through the pages.

"It says here that Prydania signed an agreement to send some officers to Saintonge for training. You could go there. My family would love to help you."

"I did bring that up to the brass when they ran this by me," Jaki replied with a shrug.
"They say they have agreements like this with Saintonge, Goyanes, Andrenne, Norsia, and Scalvia. They want to 'foster a comprehensive understanding of different outlooks.' I pulled the Scalvian card."

"So… how long?"

Jaki looked over at his son.
"A year. More or less. And… that's what's holding me up. It's not Scalvia. You know I love your folks, but Saintonge would be hard too. I don't know if I want to leave you two."

Rosaline signed and set the magazine down before going back over to her husband to massage his shoulders.

"I knew what I was getting into marrying a military man," she said softly as Jaki reached back to his shoulder to gently stroke her hand.
"You’ll miss us… but he's two. Best to miss a year now, then when he’ll actually remember it."

"So you want me to go…"

"I want you to do what's best for your family, and yourself. You saw combat. You can teach the cadets who will come through the new academy so much," she said as she kissed his cheek.

He nodded.
"I'll go if you promise to chat with me every night. And make sure the little guy is there."

"Of course."

"You say that but," Jaki chuckled, "you're going to get so tired of me."

"You said that when I agreed to marry you. It hasn't happened yet," Rosaline said, giving her husband another kiss on the cheek.
"Are you going to accept the offer?"

"First thing tomorrow."

"Then I’ll check out an atlas from the school library. And you and I and Styr will learn all about Gichigan."

---

*KPFH- Royal Prydanian Air Force
*Hermaðurmaki- Soldier’s Spouse

Mjölby, Prydania
the next day

Lt Karl Feldurlangt looked over the stark interior of the partially completed Royal Prydanian Air Force Academy, his thick arms crossed across his chest, which was proudly puffed out.
"It's coming along nicely."

Captain Jaki Klósen, however, just raised an eyebrow.
"It looks like a Polykor store threw up all over."

Karl laughed and shook his head.
"It's modern. Come on."

"The Army and Navy get stately buildings and they construct this place to look like... well... like I said, a Polykor store."

"Well unlike those buildings, this one is being built in this century."

"I didn't take you for a 'it's the current year' type, Lieutenant," Jaki said, with a smirk to needle his wingman.

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?" Karl asked dryly, clearly not amused.

"Granted," Jaki replied as he casually twirled around, a huge grin across his face.

"Get fokked... Sir."

Jaki's smile grew even larger and the two friends cracked up laughing before they left the under construction building to head back to base.

"You know I'm going to recommend you to replace me as squadron leader once they chain my ass to a teacher's desk."

"Já," Karl said wistfully.
"But it won't be the same Reginleif Squadron without you in charge."

"No, it won't," Jaki said plainly, nodding.
"But that's ok. It'll be the Reginleif Squadron you're leading."

"I guess I don't like change," Karl grunted.

"You're doubting if you can do this?" Jaki asked softly.
"You can. You're..."

"...a better pilot then you? Oh I know... Sir," Karl smirked. Jaki laughed. The fact was they complimented each other perfectly as wingmen. To say either was truly better then the other was to display a shocking lack of knowledge about the art of flying war planes and how they complimented each other.

"I guess," Karl mused, "you always had the knack for leadership. I'm worried I'll have the job for a week and I'll get wrung out after I punch a superior officer out for being a moron."

"Kala hasn't quite tamed you then?" Jaki chuckled.

"More than she thinks, less than she'd like," Karl replied.

"Look, Lieutenant. Karl." The two stopped and Jaki looked off into the distance.
"I wouldn't trust anyone else with Reginleif. It's as much yours as it is mine anyway. Take it, push the kids hard. Make someone else earn the right to call Reginleif theirs when it's your turn to join me in the desk jockey club."

"I'd make a worse teacher than a Captain," Karl said with a soft smile.

"You'll make a damn fine Captain. So you should make an alright teacher."

Karl nodded, and looked around. He remembered when he and Jaki were launching Harriers out of hidden FRE hideaways in the woods. And now... a proper Air Force Academy. He felt himself choke up. It was a powerful thing for a guy who hid his emotions behind snark and toxic masculinity.
Still, he was able to calm himself.

"Thank you... Sir."

They'd known they wouldn't have long for this meeting.

"I'll see you in a year, Lieutenant."

"Sir," Karl saluted his commanding officer and his best friend. Jaki saluted back, and the two embraced, just before Jaki headed off. His wife and kid would be in the car to
pick him up. He had a drive to Haland Airport and more goodbyes ahead of him.

In the air over the Great Eastern Ocean, between Prydania and Scalvia

Jaki loved to fly, but he hated to fly over water. It was an innate fear that if something went wrong- and he was well versed in every way a plane could malfunction- he'd have one of the worst ways to die to look forward to. At least if something went wrong over land he could eject and land safely, or at the very least be comforted by a quick, fiery death. But the ocean? Even if he did survive... he'd only be postponing the inevitable. Drowning.

So to say he was nervous as his Prydanian Airlines flight transversed the Great Eastern Ocean was an understatement. He was a wreck. It was made worse by the light rain in the dead of night as they made their way to Auroria. It was a good thing he had an aisle seat too. The last thing he needed was a clear view of the wing where he could obsess over every detail that could be a sign of a larger issue.

The plane rocked a bit and he squeezed the armrest.

"Can I get you anything, sir?"

Jaki looked up. A pleasant looking woman in a flight attendant uniform had approached him.
"No, thank you very much," he said as he looked down, opting to read from a book he'd brought with him on the history of the Scalvian Air Force.

The flight attendant, however, noticed the way he was tense, and clutched the book, which had until now been held in a death grip against his thigh.

"You know, if you do try to get some sleep, the flight will go a lot faster."

Jaki looked up, cocking his head for a moment. The idea was... well... it was strangely foreign to him. Flying for him was either exhilarating, terrifying, or both. He knew that people slept on flights all the time... he just never considered he'd ever do that.

"Oh," he said with a soft chuckle.
"I can never sleep on a plane. Turbulence."

"Pardon?" the flight attendant asked. She was a bit taken aback. Of all the people she'd expect to see bothered by turbulence, an air force officer was not one of them.

Jaki, however, didn't really catch the irony of that. And just found her questioning "pardon?" a bit odd.

"Turbulence. Solar radiation heats Eras' crust, warm air rises, cool air descends. Turbulence," he chuckled nervously.
"I don't like that."

The flight attendant raised an eyebrow at that. Both at the idea that someone felt the need to explain turbulence to her, and that an air force pilot- evident by Jaki's wings badge- was bothered by it.

"Well," she began, switching from shocked confusion to pleasant stewardess mode, "try to get some sleep anyway."

Jaki smiled as she pat his arm and moved on, only for his attention to be drawn to the slight shaking of his plastic cup of mostly finished Tóki's Cola on the tray table.

The book he'd brought with him wouldn't give him much of any sort of heads up on his year ahead. Still, he prided himself on being informed. The man next to him had a blindfold on as he rested. It meant Jaki could keep the light overhead on as he thumbed through the pages of the book.
The Scalvians, like the Prydanians, had a preference for Andrennian planes. So that was good. Still, it wasn't why he was reading. He wanted a feel for the Scalvian Air Force's culture. The notable names. Names he was sure would be plastered on the buildings he'd be studying in for upcoming year. Names on plaques adoring the bases of statues.

Knowing who these people were beforehand would just make the experience less overwhelming. Besides, he found it interesting. He was both a military officer and a father. Military history was a siren call he couldn't avoid for long. Besides, he would be a guest for a year. It seemed proper, and indeed in keeping with his own well engrained sense of Prydanian hospitality, to familiarize himself with his hosts.

Names like Major General Kipras Bielinis and Major General Karl Milpak stood out to him. Of course the Fascist Wars section of his book wasn't the entire thing, but it did seem to be the crucible that the Scalvian Air Force as a modern fighting force was forged in. It wasn't shocking. The skies over Khastenia were where the Royal Prydanian Air Force- its planes ablaze with white saltires and Social Commonwealth boars- danced with dragon-adorned Khastenian foes.

Prydania and Scalvia were technically on separate sides of that War... not that it mattered. The two were merely enemies-in-law. They never directly faced each other and had no reason to.

No, what worried Jaki was that, just as he was doing some reading on the Scalvians, he was sure they were doing theirs on him. The Scalvians had made a principled stand in 2013 when they recognized the FRE as the legitimate government of Prydania. And Jaki was... a former Syndicalist. A former Syndicalist fighter pilot at that, Yellow Squadron. He could still remember it... he was number thirteen...

He'd defected to the FRE because of what had happened to his sister. A memory he'd rather bury. And his service to the FRE- and later the Royal Prydanian Air Force- had earned him acceptance despite his past. Still... would who he'd deal with in Scalvia have reservations? Scalvians most certainly had nothing but disdain for the Syndicalist regime.

If it made it any better, so did he. He thought of his sister. He smiled because he remembered how she was. Not how she ended up. He took it as an article of faith that she was in a better place, and proud of him, for what he'd done to make amends...

He continued to read.
There were four fokken languages in this country, and he had no idea how to speak three of them. Thankfully it seemed like Mercanti was the language of business, so he'd be able to manage. Well... there were more languages if you counted the Native languages.
That was something he was totally confused by. The Bayardi predated the Nords in Prydania, but the Bayardi nobility had survived Vortgyn's conquest and Jórvík was a Bayardi majority province. Jaki was a Nordic Prydanian, but he'd grown up less than an hour from the Jórvík border. He'd spoken both Prydanian and Bayardi most of his life. The Thanes of Jórvík to this day remained one of the most influential families in the country, and multiple Bayardi politicians had been elected Prime Minister, across multiple parties.
And it seemed abundantly clear that the Natives in Scalvia had a far less peaceful history. It was something he didn't fully understand, but it wasn't his country. He wasn't going to interrogate his hosts.

He sighed as he continued reading. The book calmed him. He nodded along and sipped some remaining Tóki's, engrossed by the section on the post-Fascist War Cold War section. Scalvians with the Arianese and the Imperium. Prydania had Szlavia. That was a point of mutual understanding. Nothing like an ever-present threat to spur on bonding. Though, God willing, he'd be from the last generation of Prydanian fighter pilots who actually had to see combat.

Though that raised another issue. He'd probably have more combat experience than the Scalvian officers he was going to be training under.
Not that it mattered. He wasn't going to learn how to be a fighter pilot, he'd figured that out years ago. He was going to learn how to be a teacher.

He remembered his own schooling at the Syndicalist-run military academy. A portrait of Thomas Nielsen in every room. The fokker's eyes followed you anywhere you stood...

He yawned a bit, and looked down at the book. He skipped ahead to some slick, glossy pages with pictures. It really was uncanny. It seemed like Scalvian and Prydanian jets from the 1960s were the same models more or less, just with different markings. What took him back, however, were the landscapes under the jets in those pictures.

Prydania was a land of farms, rolling fields of grain and livestock, and thick northern forests. Of fjords, lakes, and coastlines. The Scalvian countryside, however, looked so... flat. So totally flat and never ending. He knew not all of Scalvia was like this, but the state of Gichigan was. And that was where he was heading. The way the west Scalvian terrain seemed to be flat prairies with towering mountains in the distance was alien, but strangely beautiful.

"The view should be nice, once I get up in the air," he thought to himself.

The plane shook again. More turbulence. Jaki looked out the window. Night... but they were flying east. Soon they'd be flying into sunrise.

Jaki began to hum an old Prydanian folk song to himself, that caught the mood of that fact.

Home is behind
The world ahead
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadows
to the edge of night
Until the stars are all alight

Like the book, it was calming. And it would get him through the rest of this flight. At least until they were over solid ground again, and he could relax.