Thursday, April 4, 1946
Château Saint-Ulrich, Gallia

The tower at the north end of Château Saint-Ulrich had been the first part of the structure repaired when Allied Command chose the ruined castle as the 501st JFW's new base. With its commanding view of the countryside atop which the castle sat, it was the obvious place to put the base's command center.

On the roof above that command center, Erica Hartmann stood silently gazing off across the rolling green hills to the east, a gently steaming mug of coffee in her hand.

"I wouldn't get up this early in the morning for just anyone, you know," she said.

At her side, her twin sister Ursula smiled slightly. "I know," she agreed.

Erica took a sip of her coffee, then said, "So that's what you were doing in Gryph's room."

Ursula gave her a sidelong glance. "What did you think I was doing?" she asked.

Erica shrugged. "I dunno, Usch, when I found you in there, I thought maybe you just got lonely." With a mildly sly grin, she added, "It does get chilly in those north rooms at night."

"Did it really look like that?" Ursula wondered.

"You'll be able to judge for yourself once I get the pictures developed," replied Erica with a wink.

Ursula blushed, giggling a little, then said almost abstractly, "He is nice and warm."

"He is," Erica agreed. Putting her coffee mug down on the parapet, she placed her hand on Ursula's shoulder and said solemnly, "Welcome, little sister. Now you understand."

"Stop it," Ursula giggled, brushing off her hand. Then, sobering, she said, "Please try to be serious for a second. I have to leave soon, and I need to know what you think."

Erica nodded. "Right. Sorry." She picked up her coffee again, took another sip, and added wryly, "How sure are you of this?"

"Erica, I built it myself," Ursula replied with a trace of asperity. "I'm reasonably sure I know what it can do."

"No, I know that," said Erica. "I mean about what it's for."

"Well, it's not in the project specifications," said Ursula wryly, "but logically speaking, what else could it be for?"

"Mm," conceded Erica with another nod. "What did Gryph think?"

"He agrees with me. Whatever the ultimate purpose of Projekt Salamander is, steps have to be taken before someone is killed."

Erica stood looking off to the east for a few more sips of coffee, then turned to Ursula and said, "OK, what do you need from me?"

"First, your opinion," Ursula replied. "You know your wingmates far better than I do. Should we involve Brigadier Wilcke?"

Erica opened her mouth to reply, but before she could do so, another voice nearly startled both sisters out of their skins, inquiring sweetly from behind them, "Involve me in what?"

Thursday, April 4
Château Saint-Ulrich

"You all know I've been reassigned to KG 200, right?" Ursula asked the assembled members of the 501st.

At the head of the briefing table, Brigadier Minna-Dietlinde Wilcke nodded. She'd seen the notice in the Karlsland Luftwaffe's internal newspaper (imaginatively entitled Die Luftwaffe) some time ago. Kampfgeschwader 200, despite its name, was not a bomber wing; it was Karlsland's premier experimental flight test squadron, tasked with developing and refining the Reich's most advanced aerial weapons. It was the natural place for someone like Ursula, with her engineering talents, to be assigned, and Minna remembered thinking that the assignment suited the younger Hartmann very well when she'd read about it.

"You're still working on refining the jet Striker, aren't you?" asked Perrine Clostermann. "I remember reading that the Me 262 is in limited production now thanks to your team." Folding her arms, she added, "Not that I'd ever agree to fly one. I saw what the prototype nearly did to Trude. We all did." Across the table, Francesca Lucchini nodded vigorous agreement.

Ursula shook her head. "The 262's development has mostly been handed back to Messerschmitt's own engineers now. I've been tasked with the development of a new weapon - one of the Wunderwaffe the Reich Air Ministry like to brag about."

"Uh... should we be talking about this?" Shirley wondered. "Aren't the Wunderwaffe projects, like, above top secret?"

"Yes," said Ursula matter-of-factly. "The one I'm working on right now, in particular, is so highly classified I've had to work alone. I haven't even been allowed to tell my closest colleague, Captain Schiller, about it."

"Then why -" Trude began, but Ursula held up her hand.

"Please, Major Barkhorn," she said. "This is hard enough without interruptions. Once I've told you what it is, you'll understand - both why it's such a serious crime for me to tell you all about it... and why I have to."

She paused, gathering her thoughts, then took a deep breath and went on, "The project I'm working on now is on the books as another jet Striker development effort, this one under the name of the Heinkel works, though it really has nothing to do with them. On paper, it's the He 162, a lightweight, high-speed ætherjet Striker Unit, intended to be cheaper to produce and easier to operate than the Me 262. The project's code name is Salamander."

Ursula stood looking down at the table for a moment, then raised her head and made eye contact with Minna, saying, "It's really a new attempt to copy Gryphon's rocket pack, in order to create a force of non-magic-using air infantry."

There was a brief but profound silence.

Then: "That's crazy," said Shirley, and everyone started talking at once. "No, no, no," Shirley declared after a few seconds' babel, her voice rising above the clamor and stilling it. "I don't mean Ursula's crazy, I mean the idea's crazy. Never mind the engineering challenges, never mind that nobody's ever gotten a non-magical jet engine anywhere near that small to work - it's a jetpack, by the way, not a rocket -"

"Stick to the point, Shirley," Trude put in.

" - right, sorry - look, I flew his old pack, remember? And it damn near killed me! If not for my magic, it would have. So even if you built a flawless replica, one that worked perfectly - you strap it to a normal man, that man's gonna end up dead. Period. End of story. Even if the engine works non-magically, you can't control something like that without magic. Or whatever it is Gryph has."

Gryphon nodded. "Not with the technology you have available here," he agreed. "The X-15A-2 I had in '43 was damaged - most of the advanced flight controls were destroyed in the process of crossing over, and they were based on technologies your world isn't going to have for... quite a while. I was only able to fly it in that condition because I have a lot of rocketeering experience... and I have the Force." He shook his head. "Without that, or magic, there's no way."

"I know," Ursula said. "I've tried to explain the problem to my superiors several times now, but I've gotten nowhere." Her face grave, she went on, "In the meantime, the prototype has hurt seven people, four of them seriously. Two of its victims have been witches, brought on in hopes that someone could make it work, and even that hasn't convinced the general that the project is a fool's errand."

"So... what do you need from us?" Mio wondered.

"I need you to come and take it away before it kills someone," said Ursula flatly. "I won't have that on my conscience. The near-miss with the Me 262 Captain Clostermann spoke of was close enough for me."

"Won't whoever's in charge just make you build another one?" Yoshika wondered - and in response, to her surprise, Ursula smiled for the first time, if only very slightly.

"Not if we do it right," she said.

Saturday, April 6, 1946
Château Saint-Ulrich

Just after lunch on Saturday, the 501st's clandestine preparations were thrown into disarray by the arrival of an unexpected visitor. While their colleagues hustled to hide various incriminating items (such as Gryphon), a small group of the witches assembled on one of the upper galleries to watch as the ground crew rushed out to take their guest in hand.

"Ew, it's one of those gwaaaa things," said Lucchini, wrinkling her nose in distaste at the sight of the visitor's Me 262 jet Striker. Like the test unit they had seen in Romagna a couple of years before, the one that had just arrived was painted a bright red color, but lacked the orange stripes. It also lacked the square cross that was the modern-day Karlsland's standard insignia for aircraft, sporting instead an older-fashioned version with arms that spread out toward the ends.

Like the Striker's markings, its pilot's clothes were distinctly archaic: she had on a heavy, old-fashioned leather flying jacket with a fur collar, and a soft leather helmet with goggles, its crown slotted to accommodate her grey wolf familiar's ears. As the ground crew set about securing her Striker to a spare launch stage, she methodically pulled off her cavalry gauntlets, stuck them in one of her bulky jacket's several large pockets, then removed her helmet and raked her fingers through short, dark-brown hair.

Once the ground crew had finished securing the Striker, its pilot climbed out, unbuckled her pistol belt, and divested herself of her jacket, draping it over one of the launch stage's handrails. Underneath it, she wore a similarly archaic uniform tunic - green like the modern Karlsland Luftwaffe officer's jacket, but trimmed in red piping and with a high, squared-off collar. The flap of her top left pocket sported the instantly recognizable shape of an Iron Cross First Class, and at her throat, on a black and silver ribbon, she wore another cruciform medal, this one in the shape of a Maltese cross in blue.

It was the last, along with the woman's face - thin, handsome but a bit severe-looking, with a narrow scar running vertically down her left cheek - that tipped off Erica Hartmann; going slightly pale, she said, "Oh crap, Trude, that's Hannelore von Hammer."

Blinking, Trude looked more closely. "You're right. What's she doing here?"

"I have no idea," said Erica.

"Who is it?" Yoshika wondered.

"You've never heard of Hannelore Hellhammer?" asked Erica incredulously. "She's a frickin' legend. The only witch from the First War who's still flying."

Yoshika looked astonished. "The First War?!"

Trude nodded and said, "See that blue medal she's wearing around her neck?" Yoshika took a closer look, squinting slightly, then nodded, and the elder witch went on, "That's the Croix pour le Mérite - despite its Gallic name, it's the medal of an old Prussian order of merit. Before Kaiser Friedrich IV created the Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross in '39, the Pour le Mérite was the highest decoration a Karlsländer could earn."

"Von Hammer won hers for shooting down 25 Neuroi, which was basically unheard of," Erica put in. "Before the Miyafuji Engine, killing a flying Neuroi was way harder than it is now."

"Wow," said Yoshika. "If she really fought in the First War, then... she must be over 40!"

Erica nodded. "Yeah, I think she was born around the turn of the century, so she'd be forty-five or -six now."

"How is that even possible?" Lucchini wondered. "Is she like Major Sakamoto?"

Trude shook her head. "I don't know," she said. "Maybe. I don't really understand Mio's explanation of how she got her powers back, but... well, some say Baroness von Hammer has held onto hers by sheer force of will. We've never met, but she's got a pretty fearsome reputation."

"They say back in the First One she challenged her commanding officer to a duel over some point of military protocol and killed him," Erica said dramatically. "She comes from an old Prussian military family. Super-traditional. They used to do stuff like that all the time - that's where the scar on her face came from. And I hear she has no patience for, y'know, personal stuff."

Barkhorn nodded gravely. "She would undoubtedly disapprove of the way we do things around here."

"So... for your own safety... just be cool until she leaves, OK, Miyafuji?" Erica put in.

Yoshika looked a little miffed. "Why are you singling me out?!"

Before Erica could answer, Lucchini's hand shot into the air as if she were a schoolgirl in class. "Ooh! I know!"

Her miffed look deepening, Yoshika folded her arms. "You guys are mean," she said; then, her dudgeon clearing, she pointed and said, "Look, she's coming this way."

Indeed, by this time von Hammer had finished supervising the squaring-away of her Striker, buckled her pistol belt back on, and otherwise composed herself for visiting. Like many traveling air witches, she'd been carrying a spare set of footwear for out-of-Striker use in one of the capacious pockets of her overcoat, and from another she'd produced a battered officer's peaked cap, as archaic as the rest of her outfit, which she had just finished punching more or less into shape and settled on her head. Thus configured, she was now approaching the doors that led from the hangar into the main body of the castle.

"Oh man," said Erica. "I guess we ought to go say hi. It'd look weird if we hid."

Trude rolled her eyes. "Of course we're not going to hide," she said. "Come on, you three." Shooting a sharp glance at the Romagnan, she added, "You behave yourself too, Lucchini."

"I'm not gonna touch her!" Lucchini insisted. "She looks scary."

They went downstairs and met the new arrival in the main corridor as she entered the castle. Up close, Hannelore von Hammer was even more intimidating: not a terribly big woman, but she radiated a palpable energy, a powerful sense of purpose and situational awareness that reminded the younger witches a bit of Mio Sakamoto. She looked younger than she had to be - little, if any, older than Trude, who was all of twenty - but somehow, at the same time, the look in her sharp blue eyes was somehow much older than 45. They swept her surroundings, missing nothing, as if constantly updating an internal map of, well, everything. Even in a pair of soft carpet slippers (evidently her non-flying footwear of choice, which struck her observers as a trifle strange), she looked serious and put-together in that ineffably Karlslandic way.

Yoshika didn't recognize the badge on von Hammer's collar tabs, which presumably indicated her rank, but Trude and Erica were acting as though she outranked them. As she approached, they both came to attention (to Yoshika's slight surprise; she could count the times she'd seen Erica Hartmann at attention on one hand) and saluted crisply.

"Rittmeister von Hammer," said Trude. "Major Gertrud Barkhorn, JG 52, 501st JFW. Welcome to Château Saint-Ulrich."

Von Hammer paused, looking coolly intrigued, and returned the salute. "Thank you, Major," she said. Her voice didn't really go with the rest of her, Yoshika thought; it was kind of... mellow and sweet, a little like Minna's. The kind of voice that would make you feel better, on sort of an instinctive level, if you heard it on the radio in the middle of a fight.

"May I present my wingmates," Trude went on formally, indicating the others. "Dr. Miyafuji Yoshika-chūi of the Imperial Fusō Navy, our flight surgeon. Lt. Francesca Lucchini of the Romagnan Royal Air Force -" (a millisecond look of caution) "- one of our best fighters. And of course, my colleague Captain Erica Hartmann, holder of the Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross with Oak Leaves, Swords, and Diamonds."

Von Hammer stood looking from Trude to Erica for a couple of seconds, her face utterly unreadable...

... and then threw back her head and laughed in what Yoshika and the others could only think of as a very Sakamoto-ish way, her mouth open so far as to show all her teeth, face transformed in an instant from a grim, purposeful mask to a much merrier, much prettier countenance.

"Listen to you!" she said, clouting a stunned Trude on the shoulder so as to all but knock her into Erica's arms. "'My colleague Captain Erica Hartmann,'" she intoned mock-solemnly. "If I were you, I'd feel a little bit snubbed by that, Mrs. Barkhorn," she added, giving Erica a grinning wink.

"Uh -" said Erica.

"That's -" said Trude, her face going bright red.

Von Hammer laughed again. "You two should see your faces!" she declared. "Oh, I wish I had my camera." She resumed her course for the interior of the base, hooking one arm over Trude's shoulders and the other over Erica's to drag them both along with her, and went on cheerfully, "Relax, Barkhorns, it's all good as far as I'm concerned. It's like I was telling Fritzchen a while back - you've got to take these things where they find you in wartime. A soldier can't be picky. You know?"

"Um..." Yoshika put hesitantly in as she and Lucchini trotted to keep up. "Who's Fritzchen?"

Von Hammer turned Erica and Trude loose and glanced back over her shoulder at the Fusō witch. "Fritz der Vierte. The Kaiser."

Yoshika blinked. "You call Kaiser Friedrich IV 'Fritzchen'?!"

"That's awesome!" Lucchini declared.

Grinning, von Hammer shrugged. "He was my mechanic back in the First One," she said. "That was back when he was still just Prince Fritz, of course. Good kid, little high-strung, but he could keep it together when it mattered. We've kept in touch."

They arrived at the door to the base commander's office, and von Hammer turned to bow in a very correct and Prussian sort of way to her four unwitting escorts. At that gesture, she became serious, but the undiminished sparkle in her eye kept her from becoming forbidding again, and Yoshika suddenly realized that it was all a game to the elder witch. She was playing on the fearsome reputation engendered by her medals, her age, and her lofty accomplishments, letting her younger colleagues intimidate themselves without her having to do anything, and she clearly got a kick out of it - but more of one out of dropping the pretense and enjoying the shock her true face caused.

Yoshika found herself unable to keep from smiling at the thought, and as von Hammer made eye contact with her, the elder noticed, divined the reason for it, and winked again, making Yoshika blush slightly.

"Well, ladies, thank you for your help," said von Hammer formally. "I won't keep you from your duties any longer. Dismissed!"

Trude was still completely at a loss, saluting more or less by rote while she fumbled silently for something to say, but Erica had completely recovered her aplomb by that point. With a grin, she sprang onto Trude's back, arms around her neck, legs locked around her waist, and grinned over her shoulder at von Hammer.

"Well, c'mon, you heard the lady, Mrs. Hartmann," she said. "Back to work with us."

"Uh... right," said Trude, too flustered to even object to being peremptorily piggybacked in such a cavalier fashion. A bit awkwardly, she bowed, then turned and headed toward the hangar. Just before they turned the corner, Erica looked back and waved gaily.

"They're such cute kids," von Hammer observed, watching them go. Then, turning back, she saw that Lucchini and Yoshika were still standing there gazing at her, the former blankly dumbfounded, the latter with that increasingly sly little smile. "Well, go on," the senior witch declared with a little grin of her own, and made a shooing gesture. "As you were."

"Aye aye, ma'am," said Yoshika, saluting, and then she about-faced smartly and, darting out a hand, dragged Lucchini away by the wrist. With a chuckle, Von Hammer rapped shave-and-a-haircut on General Wilcke's door, and let herself in.

"She's really cool," Lucchini observed, then frown-pouted. "I should've tried her out after all."

"There'll be other chances," said Yoshika philosophically.

Minna looked up at the rhythmic rap on her door, wondering who it could be. Shirley might knock like that, but then again Shirley didn't generally bother knocking at all. A moment later, the door opened and she had her answer.

"Baroness von Hammer," she said, sounding faintly surprised, and put down her quill as she rose to her feet. "I wasn't expecting you. Welcome to Château St-Ulrich."

"Good to see you again, Brigadier Wilcke," said von Hammer, giving her nominal superior a proper salute. "Sorry to barge in unannounced, but under the circumstances, I thought it best to stop by in person."

"Not at all," said Minna, coming out from behind her desk. With a gesture toward the little grouping of table and chairs off in one corner of the office, she said, "Won't you sit down? Would you care for something to drink?"

"Nothing hard, alas, I'm flying back to Juvincourt tonight," said von Hammer. She took one of the chairs and waited while Minna got a couple of glass bottles out of a refrigerator in the corner, then handed her one and sat down opposite.

"... What's this?" the elder witch wondered, turning the curiously-shaped bottle over in her hands. It had what looked like East Asian writing on it, and a picture that appeared to depict some sort of fruit, but it was not immediately obvious what it was or how to open it.

"It's called Ramune," Minna explained. "It's a soft drink from Fusō. Mio - Lieutenant Colonel Sakamoto has a source of it someplace in the supply chain. I've never asked for details."

"Ah, still 'Lieutenant Colonel Sakamoto', is it?" von Hammer asked, tilting her head. "Hnh. Fusō witches, ja? I've worked with a few myself. Good girls, generally, but you've got to beat them with a stick to get them to commit to anything."

Minna reddened, then covered her embarrassment by demonstrating how to open the bottle, smacking the plunger atop it with the palm of her hand so that the marble sealing the top would be driven down into the neck.

Von Hammer followed suit, took a drink, and then regarded the bottle thoughtfully, remarking, "That's not bad. Anyway, Minna, I didn't come here to harass you, that was only a side benefit. I actually came to let you know in person what I found out. Your informant was right on. There is, indeed, something strange going on in the Pas-de-Calais - and knowing who's in command of the operation, I'm not surprised."

Minna arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Taking another swig of her Ramune, von Hammer put the bottle down on the table (the marble clinking merrily within the neck). "Hartmann Minor's CO needs to be more careful about who she lends her talent to. The man at the top of Projekt Salamander is Generalleutnant Wilhelm von Reichenberg."

"I don't believe I know him," Minna said, looking intrigued.

"Lucky you," said von Hammer dryly. "I, on the other hand, know him far better than I want to. Back in War One, he was Major von Reichenberg. A cavalry officer-turned-aviator, like me. He was the last male commander of JG 1."

Minna nodded, comprehension coming onto her face. "When it was just becoming obvious that men in regular airplanes and Striker-equipped witches shouldn't be given the same missions."

"Exactly," said von Hammer. "Reichenberg... didn't adapt well to that development. In fact, he was one of the loudest voices behind the so-called 'Alternativist' movement. He coined their catchphrase. You may have heard it."

Minna's face bore a look of distaste as she said, "'Küchenhexen, nicht Kämpfenhexen.'"

"Mm-hmm," said von Hammer, taking another swig of her Ramune. "A youngster like you may find it hard to believe that kind of thinking was in the mainstream a mere 30 years ago, but I assure you it was. The Alternativists nearly convinced Fritzchen's father to make it national policy, before the second slaughter at Ypres made it obvious even to a stubborn old goat like Wilhelm that the war would be lost without us."

Her blue eyes focused miles away, she sat back and went on, "When the order came down reassigning Reichenberg to one of the new 'conventional' squadrons and naming me as his replacement, it... didn't sit well. He said I wasn't fit to command and challenged me to a duel. When I told him that wasn't proper grounds for dueling and refused him, he called me a coward."

Despite her obvious lack of amusement, Minna couldn't suppress a cold little smile as she said, "Which was."

"Quite," von Hammer agreed with a matching micro-smile. "We went up at dawn. All highly unauthorized, of course, we could both have been shot for it, but - the impetuosity of youth, eh? I shot him down. He still walks with a limp. He claimed it was a training accident, but... well, word got out."

With a nod, Minna said, "I had heard the story - that you fought a duel of honor against your commanding officer once - but in the version I heard, you killed him."

Von Hammer chuckled darkly. "Hardly. That would have been difficult to gloss over, even in those wilder days." She sighed. "I haven't seen or spoken with him since, but I hear word of him now and then, and what I hear is never encouraging. A real gentleman would have accepted that the matter was settled with his defeat, but... I fear he's never forgiven me, or witchkind in general, for eclipsing his precious 'knights of the air' back then. Which makes it all the more worrisome that he's responsible for whatever is going on over there."

Leaning forward, she put her elbows on her knees and looked Minna in the face, continuing, "Which brings us to the real meat of the matter, and I'm sorry to say that there isn't much of it. I know where the project's headquarters is - its official name is 'Fortress Mimoyecques', but the men of the 19th Construction Brigade, who built it, call it 'Reichenberg's Farm' - and I was able to get hold of a rough plan of the place." She partly unbuttoned her tunic, withdrew a folded sheaf of documents from within it, and put it on the table.

"As for what they're actually doing in there... well, I can only guess, but knowing General Reichenberg as I do, none of my guesses are good," she went on. "I can tell you this much: It's a much more elaborate facility than Hartmann's project alone calls for. Reichenberg clearly has bigger plans for his farm than just research into alternative air infantry technologies."

Minna chewed thoughtfully at the edge of her thumbnail for a moment, then finished her soda to buy herself a little more time before saying, "Thank you. I can't say this is good news... but it's information worth having."

Von Hammer nodded. "Happy to help," she said. She polished off the last of her own Ramune and put the bottle next to Minna's. "What the heck fruit is that, anyway? It's tasty, but I can't place it."

Minna looked at the label. "It's an Asian fruit called a 'lychee'," she said. "We get canned ones in from Fusō sometimes. Mio's fond of them."

"Mm. Well, I can see why," said von Hammer. She got to her feet. "Anyway. Shall we go and pretend I came for the Sechser tour of your base, Brigadier Wilcke? I understand you have a lovely bath facility here, which I'm eager to investigate further."

"By all means," said Minna, rising.

"Before we go," von Hammer said, her face going serious again. "Be very careful, Minna. Don't underestimate Reichenberg. He's an unreconstructed troglodyte and a buffoon - but he believes very strongly in his buffoonery, and that makes him dangerous."

Minna nodded. "I understand," she said. "We'll be wary."

It took Minna about an hour to give von Hammer the tour, during which time the elder witch pretended very convincingly not to notice any of the suddenly halted conversations, unseemly scrambles to conceal documents, and hastily closed doors that happened while she was being shown around.

Afterward, she and the brigadier retired to the hot spring, where several of the 501st's other members were lurking around the periphery and trying to pretend they weren't eavesdropping.

"Oh, here's something you might find interesting," said von Hammer suddenly. "You didn't hear this from me, you understand, but it so happens that - at long last - His Majesty the Kaiser has deigned to visit the front. He'll be arriving in Calais next week. As I'm coordinating his escort once he arrives, I expect I'll be keeping most of the Luftwaffe fairly busy for a few days." Leaning back with her hands behind her head, she smiled abstractly at the ceiling and went on, "I do hope no one gets up to anything... underhanded while all that's going on."

"That would be terrible," Minna agreed.

(On the other side of the spring, Yoshika noticed Lucchini's mischievous, covetous expression - and instinctively cupped hands - and said quietly, "Not now. General Minna would kill you." With a wink, she added sagely, "Patience, my young apprentice."

"You two are awful," Lynne grumbled.

"What, just because we're patrons of the arts?" Lucchini wanted to know.)

"Well, I could happily lounge around here all afternoon, but I'm sure you and your people have things to do, Brigadier," said von Hammer abruptly, rising.

Once again she played her role magnificently, somehow contriving not to notice the entourage she'd gathered as, dried off and dressed, she made her way back to the hangar and started climbing back into her full flying kit.

Having donned jacket, helmet, heavy leather gauntlets, and Striker, von Hammer drew herself up and saluted Minna smartly. "Thank you for your hospitality, Brigadier. Tell Sakamoto I'm sorry I missed her - I have a message for her from Adolfine Galland, but it'll keep."

Minna returned the salute with a wry little smile of her own and replied, "Have a safe flight back, Hannelore."

"Heh, the only dangerous thing between here and Juvincourt is that rookie training area south of Reims," said von Hammer. "Watch yourself, Minna. I'll be in touch."

She forestalled any further conversation by firing up her jet Striker, its rising scream drowning out all other sounds in the vicinity. Then, with a nod for the other 501st witches who had gathered to see her off, she opened her borrowed launch stage's retention clamps and shot away, vanishing into the blue afternoon sky in moments.

"Well," said Shirley once she could hear again, "I guess we got away with it."

"Only because she let us," Erica put in.

"True."

"Does this mean I'm not allowed to hope she comes back?" Lucchini wondered.

"Is it scary being a test pilot? It seems like a dangerous job."

Major Kuroe nodded. "It can be dangerous, that's true. We're working with experimental aircraft, after all. Sometimes things go wrong. To be a successful test pilot, though, you have to be able to focus past that and concentrate on the job. When things go wrong, you don't have time to be afraid. You're too busy trying to figure out what went wrong and how you can fix it."

Then, her face suddenly lighting up with a wry grin, the major added, "A test pilot doesn't think, 'I'm gonna be dead in ten seconds.' A test pilot thinks, 'Hell, I got ten whole seconds!'"