Minna-Dietlinde Wilcke was in her office, diligently applying herself to the mildly Sisyphean goal of getting far enough ahead on the routine work of running the First Joint Special Air Fleet that she wouldn't be completely consumed by guilt when she took a few days' leave at the end of the week. After all, it wouldn't do to spend the whole time fretting about things she was leaving unfinished while she was away on...

... her honeymoon.

She paused, as she always did when that thought flickered back across her mind. Though her love affair with Mio Sakamoto had been an acknowledged thing for months, and their wedding date set for weeks, there was still a faint feeling of unreality about the idea when Minna caught herself reflecting on it in odd moments.

"I know, right?" said Mio's voice, and Minna looked up to see her leaning in the open doorway, arms folded, giving her a slightly roguish smile.

Now she levered herself away from the doorjamb and entered the office fully, adding, "Sometimes I feel like I need to call Fleet Headquarters to confirm it's really happening."

"How did you know?" Minna wondered.

"Elementary, my dear general," Mio declared, perching herself on the corner of Minna's desk. "You were writing in the upper right, where the date goes," she said, tapping the document Minna was working on, "and then you stopped and glanced at the picture of me on your desk," she continued, nodding toward the framed photo propped by the inkstand. The Fusōnese witch grinned. "What could be more natural than to conclude that you paused to think about what we're going to be doing this Friday?"

"Why, Holmes, it seems the very essence of simplicity once you've explained yourself," said Minna in an exaggeratedly blustery Britannian accent.

"I know, Watson. That's why I rarely explain myself," Mio replied. Then, back in her normal voice, she went on, "Anyway, I just came down from the control tower. Letzi and her crew are about 10 minutes out. Hannelore is warming up the briefing room."

"Ah, excellent," said Minna. She finished the document, blotted it, then returned her quill to its stand and rose to go.

--G.
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Benjamin D. Hutchins, Co-Founder, Editor-in-Chief, & Forum Mod
Eyrie Productions, Unlimited http://www.eyrie-productions.com/
zgryphon at that email service Google has
Ceterum censeo Carthaginem esse delendam.

Hrm. Randomly: Did anything come of Gryph's lightning rifle? After LeMay made such a big deal of barging about over the MAJIC papers I've got to wonder what's happened to it. Got left by the wayside as 'world is not yet ready for particle beam weaponry with 1940's tech'?

--G.
-><-
Benjamin D. Hutchins, Co-Founder, Editor-in-Chief, & Forum Mod
Eyrie Productions, Unlimited http://www.eyrie-productions.com/
zgryphon at that email service Google has
Ceterum censeo Carthaginem esse delendam.

One last little piece in the meantime:

Gryphon was in his bedroom, sitting at his desk with the Gallian doors onto the balcony open for the afternoon breezes while he wrote up some notes on the lightning rifle for its upcoming trials before the Allied Ordnance Board. Apart from the one-off Mogami system he and Shizuka had developed for the Imperial Fusōnese Navy, it was the first time one of his experimental weapons had made it as far as an official adoption trial, and the very first to be considered for series production, so he wanted to make certain that everything was documented as thoroughly as possible.

A flicker of motion caught his eye; he looked up to see Marisa's yellow cat, whom he had last seen loitering around the living room, entering from the hallway. He'd been asleep that morning after breakfast, and Marisa had let him lie rather than wake him and take him up to the shrine with her.

"Hello, Mr. Murgatroyd," said Gryphon with mild surprise. "What brings you by?"

The cat didn't reply, naturally enough. He looked preoccupied, as if on some kind of mission, as he crossed the room, went out the Gallian door, and jumped up onto the balcony table. Intrigued, and slightly concerned lest he try to get anywhere from out there—it was a long drop from the balcony to the ground far below the castle's hilltop perch—Gryphon put his notes aside and went out to join him.

"What's up?" he asked, sitting down at the table. The cat ignored him, gazing intently upward, his head cocked as if hearing something out of the range of Gryphon's ears—and a moment later, Mr. Murgatroyd began to glow, emitting the distinctive shimmery sound of released magic.

--G.
-><-
Benjamin D. Hutchins, Co-Founder, Editor-in-Chief, & Forum Mod
Eyrie Productions, Unlimited http://www.eyrie-productions.com/
zgryphon at that email service Google has
Ceterum censeo Carthaginem esse delendam.