Salim Shahid wasn't entirely surprised by Forenian's failings. "If only they'd listened to me..." he thought. The ethnic Moskburg engineer had collaborated on several designs which saw production, but none of his personal prototypes were ever adopted.
As the Capital erupted in chaos, Salim found his way to the test airfield. "Ah, my Shepard. How much dear Tereshkova would've loved you," he remarked aloud. A Reckless Effect military transport to be rebuilt as a command and control bird, he'd just succeeded in pressurizing the full cabin before the project was cut. Knowing this day would come, he had secretly continued to work on the prototype for his own ends.
"Today is the day I leave Forenia," he thought to himself.
Salim would flee this god forsaken archipelago and found his own engineering firm abroad. Ideally he would settle in a liberal and decadent country, full of blackjack and hookers.
The funny thing about unadopted prototypes was that they're so quickly forgotten, the Inspector General didn't even bother to cross-check with accounting that budgeted systems were even built. The radar and next gen commo suite on the Shepard? Only a mockup and never actually purchased. The mangalloy frame and plating on the HuMAAR 4x4 prototype? A salvaged AS-MV21-AL frame and plating that certainly wasn't modern mangalloy. The Baby Bjorn? The war ended before the parts were even delivered.
Shahid had embezzled quite the nest egg over the last two years, more than enough to seed his entrepreneurial dreams abroad. A small cache of gold ingots were concealed in the Shepard's cockpit, a few still stamped with Reichsadlers.
Alas, Shahid lacked two final components of his getaway: a pilot and in-flight entertainment.
Under the blaring alarm sirens, the test pilot barracks were empty, except for one bunk. An one-armed pilot sloppily weeped to himself, apparently intoxicated on what Shahid hoped was just alcohol. The man clutched an old insignia pin of the 7th Ground Attack Squadron in his tear-drenched hand. The ex-Haast pilot would have to do.
As Shahid led the shattered man to the hangar, he heard a distinct chuckle as the Shepard came into view. The Shepard had been painted in fluorescent orange and black diagonal stripes, marking the plane as a protected ambulance. The fellow Moskburg pilot probably appreciated the passing resemblance to tiger stripes.
"Today is the day we leave Forenia, my friend. Fuel and prep the plane for departure, and I'll be back shortly."
As for in-flight entertainment, the test airfield was largely abandoned at the beginning of the armistice. With the sudden coup underway, Civil Defense officers had since been broadcasting for civilians to take to bomb shelters for their own safety. Which was likely the best, as Salim also knew other engineers had their own side prototypes they'd soon unleash upon the capital city. At least the nearest civilian shelter wasn't too far a walk from the test airfield.
As gunfire erupted in the distance, Salim was comforted that he still carried his father's old Five Shooter pistol on his belt. The so-called "Greatest Generation" had wielded this hunk of Moskburg steel for years in the war against Arstozka. It was a hero's gun. Salim could only wonder if his own generation would be so fondly venerated.
With the grade school cellar door in view, Salim fantasized the next few steps of his plan. Kicking the door open like a badass, he would announce himself as a secret police agent (which of course he wasn't). Striking a dashing pose in the backlit doorway, he would announce he'd come to rescue all willing women to a fantastic life abroad, full of champagne wishes and caviar dreams. "Of course this flying harem would be *very grateful*, if you know what I mean," he snickered to himself. Even then, refugees, a plane in the middle of the ocean, a Five Shooter... "The implication," he muttered with a mischievous grin.
Salim was immediately thwarted when he found the cellar door was hinged to swing outward. Flinging the door open as a show of alpha machismo, Salim stood aghast. The grade school cellar was full of terrified children. Even in the low light of the cellar, the purple star lapel pins most wore were plainly visible. The supposed "award" was granted to a child who had lost at least one parent in combat. The huddled masses crowded around a handful of female teachers and other caretakers who were trying the best to comfort them.
Salim's stupor was broken by the utterance of the bespectacled school Head Mistress standing guard inside the cellar, "Get in or shut the damn door! Today is not the day for this!"
Indeed, today was not the day.
Resigned, Salim explained to her about the Shepard at the test airfield down the road. He handed her his military ID, "Give this to the pilot and tell him I won't be coming. Inshallah, he'll be able to get all of you out of here."
She looked at him gratefully yet still with a bit of skepticism, "Inshallah... and thank you."
With the Head Mistress leading her ragged parade towards evacuation at the airfield, Salim climbed the grade school stairs onto the roof of the building. Numerous heavy black smoke trails were visible along the horizon, surely a few of which were wrecked Salamander IFVs. One of Salim's first team projects was as a junior engineer on the Salamander Pattern F, a Salamander re-engineered to spit napalm at anything within a hundred meters. In the distance, he heard the distinct whistle of an Artemis rocket, another project he worked on. Still, Salim was best known among the Engineering Department for the dubious honor of naming the "Pegleg" aerial munition. After years of dreaming and building increasingly horrifying ways to take lives, it was comforting to think his engineering would be saving lives for once.
As Salim Shahid watched the Forenian capital burn before him, his father's old Five Shooter weighed heavily on his hip. That was the thing about traditional Moskburg design. From the Stallion, to the Horsekiller, to the modern Horsekiller II, all were oversized but hard hitting weapons. Salim had never seen combat personally, but knew the common adage. "Enough to kill a man in a single shot," he mused to himself.
"Perhaps today is the day I leave Forenia afterall."
UFAF-MTA-45 Shepard Airliner
Once an incomplete revision of the Reckless Effect into a pressurized flying command and control center, the Shepard prototype has been completed as a pressurized airliner. The "Captain's Cabin," originally an office for the commanding officer, has a relatively large bed installed in it along with a polished vertical brass pole of no discernible function. The bedding is surprisingly luxurious, apparently made from Trustfall parachute silk. The RADAR station has been replaced with an apparent bar counter intended to be stocked with liquor. The rest of the cargo bay has been less opulently renovated with rows of basic wooden chairs bolted to the floor. The exterior of the plane is largely unchanged from the fundamentally solid Reckless Effect airframe, barring the intentionally striking orange and black striped paint scheme to designate the aircraft as a protected vehicle.
The sole Shepard is to be piloted by a one-armed psychologically traumatized ex-Haast pilot who may or may not have substance abuse issues. The aircraft will be carrying two to five adult civilians who may or may not be capable of assisting with operating the aircraft. The cargo bay will be occupied by twenty to fifty children. A small cache of gold ingots, of both German and other provenance, is hidden in a compartment in the cockpit which may or may not be discovered by its occupants. The pilot has been given relatively open-ended orders to evacuate its passengers out of Forenia.
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Topic: Intercontinental Arms Race: Finale (Read 601915 times)