Feathered Hearts - Eros

Sensually snared between two equally exquisite tiercels, his bulb locking him to Chris just as Giraldi’s was doing to him, Fortrakt felt himself floating, lost in a deep pink haze of lingering and quite tingling pleasure.

He knew he was stuck where he was at that moment, unable to move unless he wanted to potentially cause injury to himself or Chris. But he found himself glad for it, part of him wanting to remain attached to them forever. And judging by his passionate sounds, Chris was the same, though he was surprised when he tried to shift himself slightly only to find that he could not.

“Wait… what?” He finally called out in some confusion to realize he couldn’t move. “You guys have knots?”

“Knots? You mean you tie your mates like dogs?” Tara asked incredulously from beside Gilda, who was still milking a moaning Marco with his beak. “You didn’t do that with me, Galen.” She almost sounded disappointed to Fortrakt’s ears.

“Yeah. Don’t know why it didn’t happen to you, Tara, but I’m stuck now,” Chris replied, settling back down against Fortrakt with a soft sigh of contentment. “Not that I mind. Gods, being knotted by griffon guys is every fantasy I’ve ever had come true…”

“Not knots, Christopher McLain. Bulbs,” Giraldi corrected him slightly breathlessly. “And we call it ‘damming’, not tying, like a water dam. You will understand that as a rule, we greatly prefer not to be referred to by canine terms.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Chris said distractedly, leaving Fortrakt glad that Giraldi was able to explain it when he still couldn’t. He found himself disinclined to speak and still otherwise unable to, savoring the afterglow of the unheard-of tiercel-tucking act. “Does this always happen when you mate?”

“In truth, it does not, which makes this even more remarkable. Do not be offended, Tara Fields—it normally only happens with an eagless in estrus, though there is some argument among arcane theorists as to whether it is a magical effect, or simply a sensual reflex triggered by the spoor of a fertile female,” he explained in a tone of wonder. “I have never heard of it happening during tiercel-tucking. And yet, it happened with ease here.”

“And it feels so good…” Fortrakt finally found his voice. “Ancestors, I didn’t know my bulb could get that big!”

“Or that my sphincter could be spread like that. God, I feel so warm and full…” Chris reached his hand between himself and Fortrak’s talons to rub his belly.

The latter earned a smile and a set of talons grasping his own. He might have said more until he heard a moan from his right, where Gilda’s maw was still poised over Marco’s crotch, taking his spear in her beak.

At least until he held up his hands. “No more, Gilds. I’m too sensitive now…” he begged her, to which she relented and pulled her beak back with a line of male essence connecting her to the seed-slickened tip of Marco’s organ, which still twitched happily before her.

“Fine, dweeb. Guess I’ve had enough, too. Sweet and spicy…” she pronounced as she licked her beak. “Crows take it. I even like your taste!”

“That’s our Marco. No matter how mad he makes you, he manages to make you love him, too,” Tara said in amusement, recording the end of the act on Marco’s laptop.

“Love me? Wow, thanks, Tara…” As Fortrakt watched, Marco reached back for her hand. “Didn’t know you cared.”

“As much as I sometimes wish I didn’t, I really do,” she admitted somewhat ruefully, squeezing his soft talons with hers before going back to Gilda’s side. “You really make it hard sometimes, though.”

“Tell me about it…” Gilda said, rubbing her wing across the human female’s back before pulling her close, this time resting her talons on Tara’s shoulder. “So now that everycreature’s sated for a bit, mind if we resume the movie? Crows know I’m ready for more battle action!”

“I’m game. Though maybe we should shower and get some water before we do?” Chris suggested from where he was still locked to Fortrakt. “We’re all a bit cum-covered and crusty by now, and I’m also starting to get a headache. Could use some more cider. Is there any left, Marco?”

“Some…” Marco said as he stood to pick up the cider barrel and experimentally shook it, to which Fortrakt heard only a shallow sloshing sound. “But not much at this point. Maybe enough for one or two more mugs each. Or bowls for you guys.”

“It will do,” Giraldi said amicably. “As much as I would love for the scent of the Second Spear to remain on me, I believe I would like a shower as well.”

“That’s fine, but we’re out of towels, guys,” Chris reminded them.

“But not clothes,” Tara replied as she tossed Marco’s soaked shirt away, picking up her own top and shorts instead to clean up Chris next. “I’m sure we can sacrifice a few shirts and blouses to the cause—hell, what do we care about being naked now? I’m with Galen, then. I say we shower, and we don’t have to do so singly. Our suite’s bathroom tubs are generally big enough for two, after all.”

“Fine, but I’m showering with you, Tara,” Gilda said with a warning look at Marco when he went crestfallen. “Don’t argue, dweeb. Not after I got you off like that.”

“Sold. How about you, Chris?” Tara said as Marco fell back in defeat, too spent to protest.

“Me? I’d like to shower with Fortrakt,” he immediately said as Fortrakt finally felt his bulb subside and Chris slip off him with a very wet slurp. “Aww…”

“Ancestors…” Fortrakt said almost despondently to feel not only that, but Giraldi softening as well. “I would be honored to bathe and groom with you, Chris. If you like, I’ll even show you how to properly preen our feathers.”

“You got it, buddy. Well, Marco—I guess you’ll be going with Giraldi, then?” Chris said with a grin, causing Marco’s eyes to go wide where he lay, his spear suddenly standing back to rigid attention again. “I’d hate for you to stray too far from being gay.”

“Indeed he will,” Giraldi said with a rumble as the three of them finally separated fully. “And since the only tail that went unfilled these past few minutes was mine…” He stood up and turned his rear towards Marco while lowering his hindquarters, raising his tail high and curling it over his back, making a rolling motion towards the human male with the tip. “Come, Marco Lakan. Bury yourself within me. And for your magnificent movies and undeniable courage, know that you are the only tiercel I would allow to make me an eagless outside of a mating round.”

Marco gave another strangled sound at the sight and offer. “F-fuck…” he said weakly as his spear instantly surged back to attention, pointing almost directly at the earth griffon’s tail like it was drawn to it by an irresistible attractive force. With what Fortrakt was gratified to find was some only mild mental encouragement, he began to slowly move towards the waiting First Spear; each involuntary thrust of his hips pulling him forward fractionally towards the big earth griffon, causing him to slowly close the distance. “C-can’t stop myself… why d-do I so badly want to…”

“Don’t fight it, Marco,” Tara said evilly as she turned the camera back on him. “You know you’re gay for him.”

“Not helping!” he barely croaked out, continuing to move forward uncia by uncia until his hands were in range of Giraldi’s rear. Unable to stop himself and with only minimal urging from an equally rapt Fortrakt, he put his hands on the First Spear’s flanks and spread his sphincter wide with his thumb talons.

The final few thrusts of his hips took him far enough forward that the head of his organ was positioned perfectly before the anal opening, leaving Fortrakt marveling again at how the ‘big guy’ was at the perfect height to take Marco’s spear within it.

“Oh God! I can’t hold back! I’m gonna do him again!” he announced shrilly as he finally made contact and almost instantly pushed inside, earning a round of whistles and applause from his human friends accompanied by a mocking trill from Gilda. They only intensified as Marco began to thrust harder and shortly sank himself to the hilt in the already-loosened orifice despite his large stature, leaving his balls slapping hard against the back of Giraldi’s.

“Perfect!” Tara said in glee as she got a spectacular view of the male-on-male action, projecting it on the wall where a delighted Giraldi and equally gaping Marco could witness it. “See that, Marco? That is what our friends back home are going to see!”

“Putang Ina…” Momentarily disconcerted, Marco tried briefly to pull back only for his own body to betray him again, forcing him forward. Fortrakt was both immensely excited and satisfied to note that he did so without any mental prodding, unable to fight the overwhelming urge to take his fellow tiercel. In the end, the human male could only watch the projected ‘video’ of the act helplessly as he rutted Giraldi’s rear and eventually came explosively within him, who pushed back hard and repeatedly milked his human lover’s member using his powerful flank muscles.

Though he possessed no bulb of his own, Marco remained locked fast to his griffon mount even after collapsing atop him, panting hard with his human phallus still deeply embedded within the First Spear’s tail.

“Excellent, Marco Lakan!” Giraldi praised, having come hard onto the floor beneath him. “Such powerful passions! Such copious and sensuous seed! In my new harem, you alone may claim my tail anytime you wish. But for now…”

He simply hefted Marco’s fallen form on his back and began walking with him towards his room, taking the limp and moaning human male along for the ride—his entire body was limp except for his human spear, that was, which was still stiff and throbbing. It remained deeply embedded in the First Spear’s rear, plugging him so effectively with its girth alone that only a trickle of white oozed out around the edges.

“Let us leave this scene to shower together. And I will not object if you wish to mount me again!”

Marco could only moan, beginning to piston his suspended hips anew as the others cheered and laughed.

Half an hour later, they had settled back into their places around the living area, in two piles of freshly cleaned bodies. One consisted of Giraldi, Fortrakt and Chris while to the annoyance of Gilda and Tara, Marco happily slipped himself between them as they began to sit down so he could cuddle both of them at once, pulling them against him as his hands quickly found and fondled their chest and belly breasts.

“You really do have a death wish, dweeb,” Gilda warned him as Tara looked like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss or kill him. But neither made an immediate move to stop him—especially not after he expertly tweaked their teats again, eliciting some bit-off gasps and trills.

“What did I say about taking liberties, Marco?” the latter asked in strained tones even as she allowed him to fondle her. “And why aren’t you over there with Giraldi and the other boys?”

“Eh, we had a chat while showering. He said that he likes seeing me enjoy your company and being so ‘clever and impressively good’ at it, telling me I’d taught him a lot about proper pleasuring of eagless teats. He also said that he understands I’m not strictly a tiercel-tucker—sorry, Chris—and that I’m basically gay only for him.”

“For which I am highly flattered, but as you clearly enjoy the company of females, I would not force you to limit your interests to that alone, Marco Lakan,” Giraldi added as he settled in with Chris and Fortrakt, with the latter noting happily that they simply took the same three-male configuration they had before, with the First Spear lying on his back against the floor and sofa with cushions propping his lower back.

The slightly smaller but considerably lighter Fortrakt then retook his place atop him, settling happily onto his spear while Chris did the same with Fortrakt himself. It left them able to lie comfortably while being able to see the screen over each other’s head, though Marco helpfully raised the projected image on the wall a bit higher for them so they wouldn’t have to crane their necks.

But not before he’d given his two eaglesses a great deal of attention, Fortrakt noted appreciatively, finding himself admiring Marco anew for his confidence and fearlessness.

“Tell me to stop, and I will,” he told each eagless easily with a kiss to each of their heads even as he continued to grope them both. But to Fortrakt’s great satisfaction, neither of them could seem to muster up enough resolve to do so as the human tiercel proved again how good he was at pleasuring them, the pair slowly relenting and finally allowing him to molest them to his heart’s content.

“Crows take it…” Gilda only mildly groused as she settled in against him, partially sprawled out on the floor beside him to the left as Tara did the same to his right.

“Goddammit. I hate that you’re so good at this, Marco…” Tara told him as well, to which Marco only grinned and slipped his soft talons lower on her and Gilda to rub the nubs that sat at the top of their slits. And this time, he didn’t stop until they both came with a soft cry, leaving them in a state of sensual surrender.

Once they were ready, Chris reached down to the laptop on the floor beside him to start the movie playing again. To their surprise, it concluded the earlier raid on the Japanese-held base—the ‘Marshall Islands’, Fortrakt remembered they were called? With the planes returning to the carrier from where they had launched.

But even as the pilots reunited, alarms sounded, indicating an incoming attack. Five large enemy ‘bombers’ then appeared overhead and attempted to hit the ship with air-dropped ordnance; they peppered the area around its frantically maneuvering hull with falling bombs that caused great gouts of water to erupt around it.

And worse, they did so while the ship’s anti-air defenses returned fire but kept missing. “Goddammit, don’t those gunners know that they gotta lead those planes!” One of the pilots protested as Fortrakt instantly knew what they meant from crossbow training, where you had to be able to hit targets on the move—it wasn’t enough to fire where they were, given the bolt’s transit time, you had to shoot at the point they would be.

“Crows take it. With our training and raptor eyes, we would aim a lot better,” Gilda echoed his thoughts, and this time, she didn’t appear as enamored of the action as the bombs missed the ship but drenched it with water while the return fire likewise kept chasing the planes but missing. “Can nocreature actually hit something here?”

“Just wait,” Chris said from atop Fortrakt with a grin the latter could hear. He glanced at Marco, who gave a knowing grin back; Fortrakt felt his talons snake down to grasp the human’s rigid spear as he spoke, nibbling gently on an ear.

It soon became clear what he meant as one of the enemy bombers was finally damaged and peeled off from its retreating formation. Trailing smoke and flame from its damaged engine, it began to circle around and then seemingly took direct aim at the American carrier.

“By the Ancestors…” Fortrakt instantly sensed as the humans in the movie did that the stricken plane was going to attempt to crash itself directly into the ship, in essence turning itself into a giant bomb. “He’s about to—”

But one of the lower-ranked blue-shirted humans ran for one of the parked planes and hopped in the back. Quickly deploying its twin cannons, he took aim at the diving plane which was heading right for him and opened up on it with a hail of incendiary bolts, targeting an engine as a brief shot of the bomber’s cockpit showed its crew ready and willing to die with wild-eyed fanatical zeal.

But as it closed in, the cursing blue-shirted gunner stood his ground against the oncoming bomber and continued to fire until he finally scored a fatal hit, knocking out the remaining engine and sending the plane careening out of control. It hit the deck hard and pinwheeled once, just missing him even as a passing wing sliced his plane in two, the impact threatening to throw him overboard with the rest of his mangled metal mount.

“Crows take it…” Fortrakt heard Gilda whisper softly, glancing over to see that she was clutched onto Marco, watching the near-miss wide-eyed and panting softly to see the incredible act of heroism.

With the remains of the bomber sliding off the deck into the ocean with only minor damage to the carrier, the gunner’s comrades rushed up to him and began cheering.

“Damn, Bruno!” One of the awestruck pilots told him.

“Aren’t they paying us to kill Japs?” he responded flippantly as if it was nothing, accepting the acclaim as his comrades clapped him on the back and shoulders repeatedly in what for griffons would be very untoward areas. Though tempted to imagine it was sexual, Fortrakt reminded himself that it wasn’t as the hero blue-shirted soldier—sailor? —was invited to meet Admiral Halsey.

Brought before the much older human with grizzled features, he stood to rigid attention and saluted crisply in the human manner. And when the Admiral returned the honor, he told the young crewhuman that his actions were “the bravest damn thing” he’d ever seen, and Fortrakt had to agree. “What’s your name, son?” He then asked in a fatherly manner.

“Bruno Gaido, sir! Aviation Machinist Mate Third Class!”

Halsey’s response was instant. “Well, Bruno, you are now an Aviation Machinist Mate First Class.” The Admiral then saluted him!

“So your fleet master instantly awards him an increased rank? I approve. Promotion is the perfect reward.” Giraldi nodded, but Tara seemed suspicious.

“Almost seems too perfect. So did this really happen, or is it just a movie embellishment, Chris?” she wondered aloud as she leaned against Marco’s right side.

“It’s real. He’s real. And yes, all this actually happened,” Chris confirmed proudly. “The real Bruno Gaido did exactly what you saw, jumping into a parked plane to shoot down a damaged bomber that was attempting to crash into the carrier, very possibly saving it from destruction. And word for word, that’s supposed to be exactly what Admiral Halsey said to him after.”

“Ancestors…” Fortrakt felt his passions rise at the confirmation, starting to both push back against Giraldi and forward into Chris, feeling them respond in kind. “He would make a good griffon.”

“As you say, Second Spear. In fact, for their bravery and surprising aerial skill, many of these humans would.” Giraldi’s tone was no less awed as he reached over Fortrakt’s stiff wings to hug both him and Chris, resting his head on top of Fortrakt’s.

“A magnificently unflinching battlefield performance. Do you not agree, Decurion?” he then asked Gilda, only to not receive a reply because she was now frantically self-pleasuring with her talons dipped between her legs as Tara and Marco looked on in amusement.

Chris again paused the movie as she frantically worked her own nest, with everycreature watching in rapt attention as she finally came with a shrill cry. “Crows take it… this movie just got me off again!” she announced in mingled amazement and disgust once she’d recovered her senses, staring at her slick and dripping digits, which Tara then grasped and suckled noisily on.

“We’d never have guessed,” Marco teased, earning a glare as he began molesting her flight muscles again, which remained hypersensitive in the wake of her latest orgasm given her sudden gasp and the renewed stiffening of the pinions. “You know, if you’re going to get off to every battle scene, we’re going to be here a while, Gilds.”

“I don’t mind,” Fortrakt spoke up from where he was sandwiched between Chris and Giraldi. “After all the times she’s insulted or pulled rank on me, seeing her like that is almost as good as the movie.”

“You’ll pay for that, cub,” she growled despite Marco’s left hand continuing to roam her, finally settling happily back on a belly breast. “I’d tell the First Spear to take your tail again, but crows take it… he already is!”

“Indeed I am. And such a wonderfully warm and tight tail it is…” Fortrakt felt him start giving a series of grooming nibbles to his headcrest, making him feel like an eagless all the more. “From here on out, I will consider it a prerogative of rank to fill it with my phallus whenever I wish, Second Spear. Even in front of our Turma standing in formation.”

Fortrakt shivered and licked his beak hard at the image. “Yes…” he murmured as he began to move rhythmically forward and back again. “Take me in front of everygriffon…”

“Don’t worry, Fortrakt. Once we get back and post these videos, you’ll be seen by millions…” Tara promised him in amusement as she pushed away from Marco just long enough to reposition the laptop to look at them again, causing him to be filled with fantasies of being seen. “Smile for the camera, boys! And give us a good show.”

“Show…?” By the time Fortrakt reopened his eyes, he saw that the movie had been replaced with a moving picture of them again, showing clearly how they were perfectly arranged for rutting from the smallest of them in front with Chris to the largest in back with Giraldi. “Ancestors…”

He licked his beak at the lurid scene of three-way tiercel tucking between males of multiple races before them, willing his two tiercel lovers to spread their legs and show their massive sacs with orbs the size of large oranges almost stacked on top of each other. It left the bulbed base of their equally impressive spears just visible, showing how deeply they were embedded in each other’s tails. Except for that of Chris, of course, whose smooth and un-bulbed human phallus hung high in the air over his belly.

“Holy shit…” Chris added his own invocation. “Look at us! Look at me!” he started stroking himself and Fortrakt could feel his human muscles begin clamping down, trying to milk the tiercel spear within him. Fortrakt found himself doing the same to the First Spear, who clutched him harder to the sight and began making thrusting motions, rocking both him and Chris upwards.

“Don’t stop now, big guy!” Chris begged as multiple sets of griffon talons were placed on him, with Giraldi gently rubbing his nipples between two sets of digits while Fortrakt’s talons found and fondled his human balls with one set and stroked him with the other.

“Not bad, but given how gay he is, it seems wrong not to have Marco in there…” Tara mused as she watched the scene with keen interest, lightly pinching one of her own teats to the sight as Marco looked down in surprise. “I think he should be in the middle of those three. Don’t you agree, Gilda?”

“A dweeb like him? Definitely.” Gilda grinned back as Marco gaped. “Little too late now, though, unless he wants to climb on Chris there.”

“No time!” Fortrakt only dimly heard Chris shout before Marco could answer, lost in his own sensations and the constant pressure on his ‘pleasure button’ driving him quickly to orgasm again.. “Oh gods! Oh fuck! I’m gonna… gonna!” he didn’t finish before Fortrakt’s vision flashed a brilliant pink and he erupted deep within Chris.

Trilling loudly, he exquisitely felt the sensations of not just his spurts, but his rear bulb inflating deep in the male’s belly for a second time, joining them together like griffons of old as Giraldi’s spear gave him the same treatment from behind.

“Ancestors above! This is what I want! This is what I am! A lover of tiercels and a mounter of males! By the Ancestors themselves, I will have a harem! Of which you two are but the first!” the First Spear announced loudly as Fortrakt felt his tail being pried open further by the expanding dam of his bulb and hot fluid flooding him, making him feel well and truly claimed by the magnificent male.

“I like that…” he finally said as his orgasmic high only slowly receded. “My tail belongs to you, First Spear.”

“Mine too…” Chris proclaimed through panting breaths as he collapsed into Fortrakt’s arms, his chest and face matted with fresh seed that also dripped off his chest as Fortrakt felt fresh seed oozing out around his anal opening.

It was quickly confirmed by the picture on the wall, which once again showed a close up of their intimate areas. “I got it all, Chris,” Tara confirmed, to which he grinned and gave an odd gesture consisting of a closed fist with an upturned thumb talon. “Oh, and is there room in your harem for me, Galen?” she asked with a wink.

“Of course, Tara Fields…” he rumbled happily. “I may prefer males now, but I would never reject an eagless as exquisite as you. Or one so strong, beautiful and supremely sensual as the Decurion,” he told Gilda in turn.

Gilda looked stunned by the statement, which Fortrakt knew was the second time the First Spear had called her desirable. “You mean… you like me?” She seemed to not know how to react.

“I do. I have watched your growth as a griffon and soldier over time and found it impressive. In truth, you remind me rather fondly of an eagless I once knew…” his voice trailed off not wistfully, but almost sadly for a moment. “But that is a story for later. I would not take you or your ‘nest’ without permission or a mating round if that is what you wish, but Marco Lakan is not the only one who would enjoy it.”

“You hear that, Gilda?” Tara grinned at her speechless mate, nudging her slightly. “I said you were perfect.”

“Seconded!” Marco agreed, kissing her head and caressing her chest. “But I want her nest first, big guy…”

“We can settle that question later, Marco Lakan. But for now, as I find myself at least briefly sated… may we continue the movie?” He asked them both with a bared throat, though Fortrakt found his spear belying his words as his bulb never slackened enough to leave him, quickly and quite pleasurably inflating within Chris again. “Much like the Decurion, I am immensely enjoying it, if for different reasons than her.”

“By all means, Galen.” She rolled off Marco again to lie flat on the ground facing the laptop, with her legs spread wide and furless human nest fully displayed facing Fortrakt and the other two males.

“T-Tara…” Chris called out in strained tones as Fortrakt took a ragged breath and felt Giraldi’s hips buck once. “Please d-don’t…” Despite his words, his spear stiffened and began drooling onto his upper belly again.

“See something you like, Chris?” she suggested, bending her knees back to hold her lower legs over her thighs in a very provocative display.

“Tara…” It was Marco’s voice that had a warning tone in it again. “Don’t. Not with him.”

“Fine.” Though she gave him an odd look, she obeyed, starting the movie playing and then sitting up, snuggling back against him. “Rolling…” she announced as the picture shifted to show a multistory building beside a bay at dusk, lit up from the inside with odd human lights.

“Great. More bucking talk and less battle,” Gilda groused as she watched the scene unfold from against Marco’s side. “Music is dweeby, too. And those dresses are not anything a griffon would ever wear.”

“It’s a break from combat,” Chris said, finally refocusing himself, though he kept glancing repeatedly at Tara; Fortrakt almost felt he might be envious to see her snuggled up with Marco and Gilda. “They returned to Hawaii after a successful raid and needed some down time.”

“I do not begrudge it,” Giraldi shrugged. “Though I have not fought in a war, the border with the Ibexian Ascendancy is never far from one. When you are in constant danger, it is very important to take respites. Doubly so when you are far from home. Just like with your Bruno Gaido, it demonstrates the realism and attention to detail of the moviemakers.”

“I guess. At least the uniforms are less lame.” Gilda nodded at the brown officer uniforms with black shoulder boards adorned with bright gold stripes.

“They’re called Service Dress Khakis,” Chris noted. “They’re best described as semi-formal attire. Sadly, for as sharp-looking as they are, they’re not around any longer. The basic Khakis you see the officers wearing remain as working naval uniforms since the fabric is tough and easy to clean, but more formal Naval uniforms are now white or dark blue depending on the season.”

“Figures you’d retire your one decent outfit,” Gilda groused. “And seriously—singing and dancing? What is this place, Equestria?”

“Aw, come on, Gilda. They’re just having a little down time. Don’t you guys have dinner parties?” Marco asked, giving her side a squeeze.

“That we get invited to? No,” she said shortly with what Fortrakt found to be a surprisingly pony-like snort; it left him wondering if that was a mannerism she’d picked up from Rainbow Dash.

Still can’t believe she knows her—I wonder if I could help them reconcile? Maybe if I take her to a Wonderbolts show the next time they’re touring the Kingdom… he began to imagine their meeting but lost his train of thought as Gilda went on.

“You need to at least hold the rank of Tribune before the local nobles deign to notice you and invite you to their affairs. But even if I had that rank, why, by all the crows of the Kingdom, would I want to ‘hang out’ with them?” She rolled her eyes. “Bunch of bucking peacocks in love with their own importance.”

“Bucking?” Marco blinked, glancing down at her. “That’s twice you’ve used a pony curse. Did you spend time in Equestria, Gilds?”

“Never mind,” she said, her voice suddenly short. “The point is, I’d much rather enjoy a round of rum and some barbecued flying boar in a seedy pub than have to wear a formal uniform. Or even a ‘semi-formal’ one, whatever the crows that is.”

“You would?” Fortrakt stared at her. “We’ve been partners for six months, Decurion, and I’ve never seen you do that. You never went with me or the rest of our decade for drinks when released from duty.”

She gave him a look. “Because given our cramped quarters in the barracks and being forced to deal with various dweebs all week, I’d rather be off somewhere by myself to do it,” she added in annoyance.

“When we were off-duty, I typically went somewhere I could be alone for a bit. That usually was in some lower-level Caleponian pub, or if I needed to ‘blow off steam’—yes, that’s another pony expression before anycreature asks—I’d take off my uniform and go to some back-alley griffon bar I could get into a brawl in. No offense, cub.”

“Oh,” Fortrakt was surprised to feel a little hurt that she didn’t want to ‘hang out’ with him.

Gilda seemed to notice, studying him for a moment from Marco’s embrace. “You know what, Second Spear? Maybe I was wrong to not let you tag along. Given how good you are with your tongue and talons, I might like having you around now.”

“I know I would,” Tara confirmed with a wink at Fortrakt, whose heart leapt as she raised a creamy leg enough to give him another glimpse of her bare nest. “Just so long as I get you all to myself sometimes, girlfriend. And preferably without Marco in the middle.” She gave him another annoyed look, to which he grinned and gave them both a squeeze, taking pains to start molesting their breasts again.

Despite the erotic enticement, Fortrakt looked up in surprise. He found himself fantasizing vividly about getting to be with not just Tara but Gilda, imagining all the things they might do. “You mean it, Decurion?”

“Ancestors help me, I do,” she admitted with a disbelieving shake of her head. “So I’ll tell you what, cub. Behave and perform well during the week, and you can tag along when I go out drinking on our days off. Satisfy me with your tongue, and maybe I’ll even let you take my teats again. Though if this boring part goes much longer, then I might even let you do it now.” She motioned at the screen as the dinner party continued.

“No problem!” Fortrakt agreed eagerly, already intensely visualizing it, wondering how long it would take him to weaken her will enough that he could claim her nest and tail.

“Well, I, for one, do not mind seeing how humans interact socially away from battle,” an enrapt Giraldi said as the latest scene unfolded. “If the food and drink are good, I can tolerate the ceremony that goes with it. One thing I am curious about, though: what is that strange habit I see most of the human soldiers and civilians engaging in with the odd paper-wrapped tubes that are then ignited and inhaled from? They appear to be imbibing the vapors as Saddle Arabians and griffons sometimes do through hookahs.”

His question earned a series of winces. “Those tubes are called ‘cigarettes’. And believe me, Galen, it’s nothing to be admired,” Tara said with a distasteful look from where she was snuggled up against Marco, idly stroking his thigh while occasionally stretching her head to exchange a kiss with Gilda across the human tiercel’s chest.

“It’s simply called ‘smoking’, and everyone did it back then. Cigarettes are basically a small roll of dried tobacco that’s spiked with something called nicotine. You light the white end on fire with a match or lighter, and then inhale the smoke, which I’m told acts as a relaxant and stimulant all at once.”

“She’s not wrong. I did it as a teen before I left the Philippines just to fit in with some friends,” Marco admitted in a rueful air, giving her and Gilda another squeeze as Fortrakt watched. “It gives you a mild high that doesn’t last that long. You end up having to light up even more of them to keep the effect, getting withdrawal symptoms if you don’t smoke at least a couple dozen of them a day—which is how the companies that created them make money. It’s very addictive and nasty with all sorts of long-term health risks. Makes your breath and clothes stink, too.”

“Then why are they doing it?” Fortrakt asked earnestly to see the hazy air around the human actors, still immensely enjoying the feeling of being sandwiched between the spears and tails of two tiercels. “Why would anycreature?”

“Because like he said, it’s very addictive, and that nicotine they spiked it with made it even more so,” Chris explained as he moved his hands over Fortrakt’s talons, shifting them to grasp his human spear. “Nobody knew about the dangers back then; it was just something that everybody did. I give the movie credit for not shying away from it since it was so commonplace. Thankfully, only a few people do it today, and they’re generally not allowed to do it indoors.”

“Good. Because unless you’re a dragon, you’d better not blow smoke in my face. And even then, we’re gonna have words if you do it deliberately,” Gilda warned.

“Really, Gilda? You’d challenge an adolescent dragon?” Tara asked her with a lopsided grin. “Brave and beautiful girl. I’ve never met one.”

“I have,” she replied somewhat shortly despite the compliment, then made a face. “Though he wasn’t an adolescent. Just a dweeby and really mouthy baby.”

Fortrakt instantly guessed who she was talking about—Spike, the scribe and adopted son of Princess Twilight Sparkle, who had been friends with Rainbow Dash even before her alicorn ascension. He’s said to be very smart and have excellent talonwriting, and he even has hero status in the Crystal Kingdom for reasons I’m not clear on… he recalled before Marco dispelled his thoughts.

“Wait—baby dragons can talk?” The human male looked bemused, to which Gilda gave him another look.

“He was thirteen years old at the time,” she told him, which only made Marco more confused.

“Weren’t you paying attention during our Equestrian race and culture classes before leaving Earth, Marco? Dragons have very long lifespans and an extended adolescence,” Chris reminded him. “They’re considered babies, or at least toddlers, until they gain wings during their first molt at around age sixteen.”

“Correct, Christopher McLain. And their adolescence itself can last centuries until they finally amass a large enough hoard that they may ascend to adult size and status, at which point they can live for a millennium or more. Much like us, they fight for the right to mate and gain status. But unlike us, they only mate once a decade and raise their young communally,” Giraldi confirmed.

“Once a decade?” Marco made a face. “How awful. Are there any dragons near you?” he wanted to know.

“Just the clan of Dragon Lord Vesuvius,” Fortrakt answered, not certain why the name earned some startled looks from their human guests. “They live on a series of volcanic islands in the Servalian Sea off the southwest coast of the Italon peninsula. They’re about a thousand strong with around forty adults, I think, but keep mostly to themselves. You’ll occasionally see an adolescent visit the Kingdom to gain gems and gold for his hoard, usually by selling smoke or rarely by offering to forge arms.”

“Vesuvius…” Chris chuckled and shook his head, though Fortrakt wasn’t sure why. “And that means he lives in what we would call Sicily. Considering what I heard of your history with the dragons, I’m surprised the Kingdom allows a clan to live so near to you,” he offered cautiously.

“This clan is there because they assisted us in the war against Dragon Lord Diabla, who drove them from their original home and hoards. Though before that, they assisted Equestria in the war against the Gryphon Empire,” Giraldi explained.

“Dragon Lord Vesuvius himself fought against Diabla as an adolescent when his then-Lord allied with the Kingdom, so he and his clan are afforded honor, even if we don’t talk or trade with them much. For aiding us in our hour of need, they were ceded the island and its many gem mines as a reward, and the Kingdom still pays him an annual but token tribute of rare rocks and crystals to this day.”

“Interesting…” Chris said as the scene continued to play out, though they weren’t paying much attention to it. “Do you get anything back from them?”

“Dragon-forged weapons and armor are quite powerful and valuable, though they rarely give those up. Like the First Spear said, they will occasionally consent to having their smoke collected if you offer them enough gems and gold, which is popular in Saddle Arabian circles to inhale through hookahs,” Fortrakt explained, feeling very much in his element as he recited things he’d learned while trying to help his sire run the family’s trade business.

“The effect is not unlike what you described with those ‘cigarettes’, though longer-lasting and not as noxious. You’ll find some griffons who like it as well.”

“Huh,” Marco said as they returned their attention to the movie as the scene in the “officers’ club” concluded to show the primary human pilot of the story visiting his cub, cuddling and kissing her before his wife asked him in quiet tones to come to bed with her. He did so almost reluctantly, giving his cub a lingering look of love and worry as he left.

“He seeks to spend as much time as possible with her, because he knows not if he will ever return from war,” Giraldi said solemnly. “I can understand that perfectly well. It is a terrible burden to bear.”

Nobody answered as the scene again changed, this time to show a cramped room back inside the carrier with pilot gear stacked on the walls and some kind of chalkboard in front. The front seats were filled with fresh-faced humans, many of whom looked nervous as Lieutenant Best walked in and welcomed them, announcing that he was their new “X-O” and responsible for making sure that they were able to fly and fight.

“X-O?” Fortrakt echoed.

“Executive officer,” Chris said as another pilot burst in and told Lieutenant Best that he ‘had to see this’. “Basically, second in command.”

When they rushed out into the rain and stood on the carrier deck, which was pitching in the storm-tossed seas, they beheld a second carrier. But its rear third was filled with oversized planes that looked far too big for its deck.

“Ancestors… what are those?” Fortrakt asked to see the absurdly large twin-tailed planes taking up nearly half the carrier’s deck, noting that the navy pilots seemed no less incredulous to see them on the other carrier.

“Those, my fertile feathered friend, are B-25 medium bombers. They were nicknamed the ‘Mitchell’ after Brigadier General William Mitchell, who founded American military aviation just thirty years earlier,” Chris said happily. “Like the guy says, they’re Army, not Navy. And definitely not designed to be flown off carriers.”

“They do look too big to be there,” Giraldi observed as the human Admiral explained that they were there to attack Japan, only to be informed that enemy ‘pickets’ were ahead.

Fortrakt inferred that to mean there was a danger of detection, which Admiral Halsey confirmed by saying he couldn’t risk the carriers by bringing them any closer. The room then fell silent as the ‘Army’ leader of the exotic planes—Colonel James Dolittle, the Admiral had said his name was—explained the situation to his jacket-wearing air crews in the wind and pouring rain.

“How far away are we?” the ‘Colonel’ was asked by one of the other officers, leaving Fortrakt a bit bewildered by all the various human ranks.

“Too far,” came the blunt response. “We’ll probably go down somewhere over the Sea of Japan.”

“Go down?” Fortrakt echoed as he caressed Chris’s spear with one set of talons and cupped his sac with the other gently from below, fondling him happily. “Does that mean…?”

“Run out of fuel and crash into the ocean, where even if they bail out—you’ll see what I mean by that later—It’s unlikely they’ll survive,” Chris confirmed grimly, gently pushing back against him.

“Remember that these planes run on special fuels, and even with a full tank of them, they only have a certain range they can fly before they have to land. In this case, they could take off from the navy carriers—just barely with a strong enough headwind—but they were way too big to land there. So once they took flight, there was no turning back and no friendly airfield they could reach. They knew it was a suicide mission at that point, but as you can see, even when offered the chance to back out, they went.”

“An incredibly brave and honorable act. But still, why use them at all?” Giraldi mused aloud as he held both Chris and Fortrakt to him, his spear happily nestled in the latter’s tail. “Why not simply attack the Japanese homeland with the carrier ‘fighters’ themselves?”

“Because being smaller, their range was way too short and the amount of bombs they could carry was too little. You’d also have to sail the carriers dangerously close to Japan at a point you can’t afford to lose them,” Chris told him, earning a thoughtful nod.

“Since a naval attack was out, Lieutenant Colonel James Dolittle came up with this insane scheme to fly long range Army bombers off Navy carriers, which could strike from a safer distance and with a heavier bombload. They eventually figured out that takeoff for such large planes was possible from a carrier as long as the headwind was strong enough and they weren’t overweighted. So the bombers were placed on the carrier deck with cranes and then lashed down, since they were too big to be stored in the hangers below. They sailed with them up on deck the whole way there.”

“Remarkable…” Giraldi said, staring at the screen as the large lead plane took flight, with the watching naval officers making a bet on whether the Army ‘bombers’ would be able to take off. “A daring and dangerous scheme, given it was clearly not without great risk.”

“You said it, big guy. The attack plan relied on surprise, since if they were spotted they’d be swarmed by enemy fighters and killed before they got anywhere close, and then the Japanese would go after the carriers they launched from,” he said as he wriggled himself happily against Fortrakt’s member, pausing long enough to settle to himself more firmly on top of it while Fortrakt did the same with Giraldi’s spear.

“The attack plan called for them to sneak closer under the cover of weather so they could strike the Japanese capital from extended range. They would then head across a small sea for mainland China, eventually landing in areas the Japanese Army didn’t control.

“But since they couldn’t get close enough before they would be spotted thanks to the appearance of enemy pickets—most likely meaning small patrolling surface vessels—there was no chance of making it that far. Meaning they were likely to go down in the sea between China and Japan where there would be no rescue, or worse, on occupied land where the Japanese could find them and be very vengeful. Either way, the odds were high that they would die making this attack.”

“Ancestors…” Fortrakt marveled despite the feel of Chris’s human spear inside of him, filling and stimulating so much of him from within that he was finding it hard to focus. “So they went anyway even knowing they would likely perish? Such incredible honor and bravery!” He felt himself getting harder and bigger from just the thought of it.

“You got it, buddy,” Chris said, shifting himself slightly, sighing happily and patting his belly as if trying to feel the phallus deep within him.

“But did it work?” Giraldi wondered aloud.

“Just wait and see,” Chris said simply with a smile on his face, falling silent again as the scene shifted to what seemed like another seagoing warship, but this one was smaller and oddly shaped

What’s a ‘submarine’? Fortrakt wondered to read the red text, but he wasn’t given a chance to ask before the image shifted to show what he guessed was the inside of the ship. The interior was cramped and the all-male crew were listening to some voice broadcast over a human ‘radio’ by ‘Tokyo Rose’.

She proceeded to brag about the continuing Japanese conquest of the “Philippines”, to a curled lip and briefly clenched fists from Marco, who detached his hands from the bodies of Tara and Gilda long enough to do so.

He was relieved to see that though Tara and Gilda instantly noted his change of demeanor, neither asked him about it. Instead, Tara grasped his hand to clasp it between two of hers, while Gilda moved his other hand from her chest back to a belly breast in an attempt to settle him. He smiled briefly at her actions, but the previously Equish broadcast suddenly devolved into a muffled siren sound and a series of Neighponese shouts.

“What’s going on, Captain?” One of the blue-shirted enlisted crewhumans asked in confusion.

“Sounds like air raid sirens to me,” the khaki-wearing Captain replied.

“This is probably the movie taking artistic license, but that broadcast was from the city that’s being hit—the Japanese capital of Tokyo. To make a long story short, First Spear, the raid worked—it took them completely by surprise. For the first time in history, the Japanese homeland was bombed by a foreign power,” Chris explained.

As Fortrakt watched, the scene cut to an image of what looked like a very opulent palace almost on the same level as Queen Molyneux. In it, a single bespectacled figure in a suit sat and ate a meal only to be ushered away. “Who’s that?”

“Emperor Hirohito. The hereditary ruler of Japan, revered as a living god with an entire nation programmed to die in his name,” Chris said.

“An Emperor?” Gilda echoed disbelievingly, squinting at the screen as the building shook repeatedly with distant explosions. “That dweeb? He doesn’t look like a warrior or leader at all.”

“He wasn’t. Once again, the depiction is accurate—he was a short, bookish man whose appearance didn’t inspire anyone, but he had all this mythos built up around him from the military clique that controlled the country. They made him out to be a deity, but the truth is that he was a figurehead ruler more interested in science than military affairs. His hobby and one true passion was Marine biology of all things—which basically means he enjoyed studying ocean life.”

“Dweeb,” Gilda pronounced again as the all-too-brief attack passed and the scene again shifted back to Hawaii, showing the intelligence officer refusing to go to bed despite his Uxor taking his glasses ‘hostage’ to force him to stop working. “No griffon would follow him if that’s all he did.”

“Oh? And does your Queen have an ability to fight?” Marco asked, his temper slowly cooling again after hearing the name of his home country mentioned.

“Of course, Marco Lakan,” Giraldi said patiently while Gilda looked insulted at the question. “Unlike far too many nobles, our rulers are fully trained in combat and military affairs. As the Decurion says, griffons would not follow our King or Queen otherwise. In Imperial times, it was not uncommon for our royal line to fight duels to maintain their crown—or at least, keep their proper order of ascendancy—from the challenges of lesser members of their line. And given they were for control of the Empire, now or in the future, many of those duels were to the death.”

“But no longer,” Fortrakt added, “because we lost far too many important nobles and military commanders that way, just when their skills and experience were needed the most. For that reason, one of the first decrees Queen Jeyenne issued on the founding of the Kingdom was to forbid such duels, though at the time, she was accused of protecting her own rule. But she was proven right to do so during the Dragon Lord Diabla conflict, and thus, death duels are almost unheard of in the Kingdom now.”

“Almost. But not entirely,” Gilda corrected, but before their human guests could ask about that, the movie again shifted, this time to show the ‘Mitchell’ bombers in another storm, running out of ‘fuel’ and increasingly frantic to find land. Discovering that a tailwind had taken them far enough to be flying low over unknown mountains, they watched as both their ‘engines’ died from lack of fuel and the propellers stopped turning.

Though he was afraid the American bomber might immediately fall out of the sky, it didn’t, continuing to at least glide forward as the plane’s crew readied to abandon their metal mount. Fortrakt inwardly cringed as they simply jumped out of an open hatch on the bomber’s belly into the wind and rain, crossing their arms and plunging through the opening before being caught by the hurricane rush of air from the plane’s passage.

Unable to restrain himself from uttering a prayer for the wingless humans, Fortrakt was sure they were dead until he saw their packs open up and an umbrella-like canopy deploy over their heads, slowing their descent to a safe rate.

His jaw fell open to see it, at least momentarily forgetting about Chris and Giraldi. “Ancestors—so that’s how humans escape from their crippled aerial machines without wings!” he marveled, pointing at the screen.

“You got it, Second Spear. They’re called parachutes, and all military pilots, even today, are equipped with them,” Chris confirmed with a grin.

“Not just military. People jump from planes with parachutes nowadays as a thrill ride so they can freefall safely for a few minutes—God knows why.” Tara rolled her eyes from where she lay against Marco, causing Fortrakt to blink and exchange startled glances with Gilda.

“And not just pilots. We’ve even got a certain class of infantry that’s designed to be deployed using them, called ‘paratroops’,” Marco added. “They jump from large transports and can float to the ground far behind enemy lines to seize critical points or destroy targets. Probably wouldn’t be a good idea against griffons, though. You’re very vulnerable while you’re hanging in the air like that.”

Gilda nodded slowly at the statement, studying the screen carefully as the last of the humans bailed out; Fortrakt couldn’t help but nod in satisfaction as the ‘Colonel’ left his powerless plane last only after all his lower-ranked crew were gone.

“If all you’re doing is floating slowly downward like that, then yeah… we could massacre you with crossbows and steel talons if we caught you in the air. Good to hear we’d have some advantages over you if it came to a war,” she said with a grin, but then her brow furrowed. “Come to think of it, I’ll have to report that to Tribune Narada tomorrow.”

“Our reports!” Fortrakt abruptly recalled in a near-panic, sitting up suddenly from where he was lying against Giraldi, forcing Chris to rise in turn as Tara slapped at the laptop to pause the playback. “Ancestors above, I completely forgot about that! We have to write our daily reports, Decurion! What are we going to tell the Tribune about all this?” he suddenly fretted, earning an annoyed look from Gilda and a questioning one from their human friends.

“I do believe he is correct, Decurion,” Giraldi spoke up, gently but insistently pulling him back down. “The hour is getting late, and our reports will be due at the usual time—I, too, am submitting them regarding my interactions with the outside human sentries. And after this night, there is a very great deal that we will have to convey. Both about human sensuality and warfighting.”

Gilda thought about that, then sighed. “Crows take it. For once, you’re right, cub. We’ll have to write reports on all this for the Council of Crows. In fact, since I can’t seem to remember much from early in the night, maybe we should start now.” She looked around for some parchment and a pen.

“The Council of what?” Chris echoed as Fortrakt slowly settled back down into Giraldi’s embrace.

“Council of Crows. Our Kingdom’s intelligence service,” Giraldi said matter-of-factly as he casually munched on a leftover fried egg from dinner. “They’re having us spy on you, you know.”

“Oh, really?” Marco gave a lopsided grin as Fortrakt found he didn’t care at all about spilling that secret. “So, they’re like the CIA?”

“The who?” Fortrakt asked.

“Central Intelligence Agency. Our nation’s spy service.” Fortrakt could tell from the movement of his facial muscles that Chris rolled his eyes. “Idiots, ideologues, and incompetents more interested in implementing an agenda than protecting the nation from outside enemies. Not worth talking about.”

“Really? They sound just like Talia Tarseus,” Fortrakt mused, finding himself suppressing a sudden image of the annoying eagless on her back before him, obeying his mental commands to surrender herself sexually as she presented a teat with one set of talons and her nest with the other. But the sudden fantasy of compelling her submission wouldn’t go away, leaving him fantasizing about making her spread her legs and glistening lips wide before him, helplessly aroused and begging him to avail himself of her eagless body to his heart’s content.

“You said it, cub,” Gilda agreed, seemingly forgetting about the reports as quickly as she’d been reminded of them. “Ancestors know I was about ready to kill her when we met her this past morning.”

“Oh? And who’s she?” Marco asked as he picked up the cider keg from the table beside him—it was light enough now that he could do so with one hand. He poured some fresh and still-steaming liquid into her bowl; whatever the ponies used as a mulling crystal was clearly very long-lasting. “Some spook?”

“Spook?” Gilda echoed as she waited for the bowl to fill fully, nodding sharply when Chris said the word was a slang term for spy.

“Oh. In that case, yeah. And she’s not somegriffon I want to talk about right now.” She upended her latest bowl of spiked cider into her muzzle, then exhaled happily and licked her muzzle, watching with satisfaction as her teats plumped again; she gave them a caress and then offered the bowl to Tara.

“Ah, much better. Even my headache just went away. Now can you stop groping me and Tara long enough to start the movie back up, dweeb?” she asked him as Marco immediately availed himself of her latest enhancement. “I want more battle and I want it soon.”

“You got it, girlfriend!” Marco nodded over to Tara, who reached over to once more tap something on his larger ‘laptop’ portal device. The movie immediately began to play again, and this time, it resumed with an aerial view of an oddly named bay where dozens of human warships sat at anchor, including a massive ‘battleship’ in the center with insanely large cannons.

Though he expected another explanation from Chris of the location or its significance, the three humans fell strangely silent when the name flashed across the screen; Chris even stopped wriggling against him and his spear seemed to momentarily slacken.

Giraldi noticed, too. “Is something wrong, Christopher McLain?” he asked softly, caressing his chest and gently rubbing one of his odd tiercel teats again.

“That name is—” Chris started to say, only to stop and shake his head after Marco reached out and squeezed his arm, shaking his head at him sharply. “Sorry, big guy, but I can’t say. Even after all this, there are certain things I’d rather not mention,” he said with a sigh, to knowing nods from Marco and Tara.

“It’s not important to the story,” Marco added somewhat shortly, sounding uncharacteristically terse as the camera showed a small boat heading to the big ship. A dark-blue uniformed Japanese officer then rapped his knuckles on a door, then a second time when his knock was not answered.

Opening it, Admiral Yamamoto was found kneeling on the floor inside, his head bowed in shame. He said that he felt responsible for allowing the attack on Tokyo even after his aide said it was ‘just a few bombers’ and the damage was minimal.

“We swore to keep the homeland safe,” the Admiral explained, only to perk up when the aide then said that the attack had caused a dramatic shift in attitude among the Army—they now agreed that the American carriers had to be destroyed, and thus, the ‘Midway’ operation was now approved.

The news caused the Admiral to suddenly stand up and take a steely expression. “We have work to do,” he announced in Neighponese just before the scene shifted again to show a tropical setting with humans wearing odd straw hats shaped like a pyramid. The camera then panned to show Colonel Doolittle surrounded by what Fortrakt guessed were armed and very suspicious local civilians who looked far different from him, though he wasn’t sure what the wood-wrapped tubes they held were.

“Rifles of the era,” Chris explained at his question. “In your own terms, they’re small handheld cannons, for lack of a better term. Their rate of fire is poor but hitting power and range is actually superior to most modern weapons. I actually prefer them to much of what we have now.”

“Speak for yourself,” Marco said with a smirk. “I’ll keep my little Armalite, thank you very much.”

“Only because you don’t appreciate the classics, Marco,” Chris retorted, but then they fell silent again as the locals brought forth a bespectacled civilian who spoke halting Equish, asking the stranger if he was American. When he said he was and confirmed that he bombed Japan, the locals instantly turned friendly.

“The Japanese had invaded China some ten years earlier, but after conquering roughly a third of it, they were now bogged down in the center and south of the country,” Chris said before anygriffon could ask. “It was that invasion that set the stage for war in the Pacific. The Japanese home islands were resource-poor and thus, they needed to be supplied by foreign sources in order to continue the conquest,” he began.

“But the United States then sanctioned them for what was labeled an unjust military operation, cutting off critical resources for their war effort. They couldn’t sustain their new Empire without them, so backed into a corner, they attacked Pearl to cripple the American fleet and then attempted to seize most of the Pacific, all to gain direct control of those resources from various lands as well as establishing outlying air and naval bases that would make their nation unassailable.”

“I see. I would have to know more of the backstory to understand their grievances and rationale, but in fairness, that does sound like a casus belli for war if sorely needed supplies were being deliberately withheld.” Giraldi nodded thoughtfully. “You will forgive me if I do not know a succinct Equish equivalent for that phrase.”

“We know it,” Tara said before Chris did as Doolittle was escorted away, now an honored guest instead of a prisoner. “Certain phrases of your language survive in our own.”

“They do?” Fortrakt blinked. “But why would that be when our Kingdom doesn’t exist in your world?”

Chris squirmed against him, not sensually, but uncomfortably for a moment. “I’ll, uh, explain later, buddy. Just keep watching for now,” Chris requested, perhaps sensing Gilda’s glare. “I guess I should also mention that the raid was successful. Even though it was only a pinprick in the overall scheme of things, its effect on the course of the war was far-reaching. The damage it inflicted was minimal, but the boost to American morale was huge while the loss of face to the Imperial Japanese military was enormous,” he detailed.

“As Yamamoto said, they promised to keep the homeland safe, and for as big as they were on honor, this meant that they had to respond. It was this attack more than any other that set the stage for the climactic battle of Midway.”

“Okay. We’ve heard that name over and over. So by all the crows, what exactly is Midway?” Fortrakt asked as he slowly stroked Chris, finding he couldn’t get enough of feeling up the human male’s body, to say nothing of his spear and sac.

Huh. Maybe I’m actually as big a tiercel-tucker as Giraldi? He only idly wondered, finding that the idea wasn’t bad to him at all, imagining them working together to convert human and griffon males alike. “I mean, it’s the title of this thing, and I gather it’s the name of a coming battle. But where does the name come from? What does it represent?”

Chris grinned, exhaling happily as he drank the touch of multiple sets of talons in. “Sorry, lover bird. Guess we should have explained up front that Midway is the name of a small island—or actually, three. They’re part of a remote volcanic atoll almost dead center of the Pacific Ocean, hence the name,” he explained as Fortrakt squeezed his spear to release some clear fluid from it, lubricating his organ with it. “No idea if the same islands exist here. Hell, I don’t even know if the Hawaiian Islands exist on Tellus.”

“To judge by their location on the maps we’ve seen, I believe that they do, Christopher Lakan,” Giraldi answered, watching over their shoulders, though he seemed to take particular interest in tugging and tweaking the human tiercel’s curious male teats. “But few have visited them here, because they are inhabited by an isolated dragon clan led by a rather volatile drakina whose great power is only rivaled by her fierce temper. For her internal furnace is not only magma-hot, but she is said to quickly anger and have the ability to make the volcanoes of the island erupt at will.”

“Really?” Chris blinked, turning his head fractionally to look back at Giraldi.

“Really,” Fortrakt confirmed, continuing to grope and stroke him. It left him marveling at how easily the amorous act came to him now, openly reveling at the sight and feel of a tiercel spear inside him while his own throbbed happily inside a second male; their spears, sacs and tails freely shared like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Ancestors above, it would be selfish not to share these passions and pleasures! I must undo the Kingdom’s tiercel-tucking taboo and teach this to other griffons! He silently swore, resolving that he would use his new power to help it happen. But here and now… he decided he wasn’t yet done indulging it himself.

“My clan trades all over the world, and over the past half-century, we’ve hired some south seas Harpies to take us there a few times,” he told Chris. “My grandsire went once and had some incredible stories to share, even meeting their dragon lord directly. His journals said that although she’s actually not that large for an adult dragon, she’s quite striking and surprisingly well-informed about the outside world. She’s also quite the connoisseur of good food and drink, valuing rare gems and high-end liquors which she drinks by the barrel. She also enjoys exotic fruits and meats that aren’t found there, like pony-grown watermelons and our slow-cooked flying boar,” he recalled.

“If she likes your offerings and finds you properly respectful, she will reward you with volcanic riches right out of her enormous hoard and even allow you to collect some of her smoke to take back. Given its great rarity and phenomenal potency, it sells for a very high price in Saddle Arabia and the Kingdom, since it can be imbibed through hookahs and is said to be incredibly invigorating and magic-boosting. Even foreign dragon clans prize her breath, since it somehow enhances the power of their flame.”

“Wow…” Marco said simply. “A real dragon lady.”

“I guess. But if you offend her or take anything from her isles without her explicit permission, whether a rock from the slopes or even a fish from the surrounding seas…” Fortrakt trailed off ominously, waiting until all eyes were on him before continuing.

“Well, given she commands a large clan and can even somehow influence the islands’ volcanoes to erupt—before you ask, that is not a normal dragon power—you and your escort probably won’t live to regret it. Though not interested in leaving her idyllic isles or conquering other lands, she’s fiercely independent and supremely powerful; not even Dragon Lord Diabla dared challenge her back in the day.”

“As you say, Second Spear. It is rumored—but not known for certain—that Diabla’s even more ruthless father, Dragon Lord Kalator, once proposed an alliance with her,” Giraldi added. “But she killed one of his emissaries for being disrespectful and sent back the other wounded with a warning to leave her isles alone, telling him in no uncertain terms to keep her clan out of his wars.”

“Sounds like my kind of girl,” Tara said with a toothy smile, and Fortrakt noticed that even Gilda was grinning at the story.

“Mine too…” she agreed. “Takes no crap and makes dweebs die who do things she doesn’t like? Sometimes I wish I was more like that,” she added with a halfhearted glare at Marco.

Fortrakt gave her a lopsided grin. “I’m sure you do, Decurion. But she can do far worse to non-dragons, so only the most courageous captains brave the storm-tossed skies of the Sea of Serenity to reach those isles and trade with her. And they’ll only take you there after they make sure that you’re offering something she’ll like, and that you understand the protocols for meeting her.”

“Whoa. She sounds like a real piece of work. So, what’s her name?” Chris asked.

“I believe she is called… Dragon Lord Pele,” Giraldi said, his expression thoughtful. “The sovereign ruler of what are known here as the Pelesian islands.”

Chris started and blinked hard, exchanging a startled look with Tara and Marco. He then laughed, reaching up to rub his eyes. “What the hell… why am I even surprised anymore?”

“Surprised? You recognize that name?” Fortrakt prompted after exchanging a glance of his own with Gilda, unable to turn enough to see Giraldi as he was.

“Yep. In our world, Pele is the name given by the native inhabitants of Hawaii to the supernatural being that their mythology says created the islands—the literal goddess of fire,” Chris replied, settling back into Fortrakt’s embrace.

“According to them, she’s no dragon but a hot-tempered woman with enormous power and an equally large appetite for sex and strong spirits, who will make the island volcanoes erupt in fits of rage to kill anyone who crosses her. And woe to those who take so much as a rock from her isles as bad luck will endlessly befall them, though that was a more recent claim designed to discourage people from taking souvenirs from sensitive areas.”

“Remarkable…” Giraldi sounded intrigued. “The parallels between our worlds are uncanny, as to take even a single gem from a dragon hoard uninvited would be to invite a fiery death—especially hers. Though I do not believe I have heard of this world’s Pele having sex with visitors, Second Spear?”

“Not to my knowledge!” Fortrakt tried to visualize what it would be like for a massive dragon lord, whether drake or drakina, to have sex with much smaller creatures. “Not that I’ve ever been there, but I’d doubt it—pity. Dragons don’t generally mate with non-dragons as a rule given how dangerous it is to the latter. Then again, they probably wouldn’t mention it even if she did! But now that I think about it, it might be the reason some of those courageous airship captains risk their lives to return to her over and over…?”

“Whoa…” Marco’s expression got distant as he seemed to visualize it, his hands suddenly kneading one of Gilda’s upper belly breasts along with the rightmost chest-mounted mammary of Tara, who gave him a look of tolerant amusement while Gilda could only stare down at the hand groping her in mingled annoyance and resignation. To her delight and disgust, her teats responded to the stimulation again, betraying her enjoyment by swelling further in his grasp.

“So now you want to screw a dragon, Marco? You realize that as reptiles, they don’t have boobs, right?” Tara reminded him as he continued to happily knead hers, causing her to repeatedly bite off cries of pleasure; she had to swallow one before she continued. “And never mind the fact that they breathe fire, they could also cook your cock in their cunts.” She seemed to take relish in telling him that.

“Now that I wouldn’t mind watching.” A breathless Gilda grinned as Marco’s expression fell and his hands stilled; even his shaft started to soften at the image. “Would serve you right for turning my teats and wings into your tuck-toys, Lakan.”

He glanced at her and grinned, taking pains to molest her form further by giving her wingbase attention while shifting enough to press his shaft into one of her breasts. “Hey, you know you love it, Gilds. And yeah, the lack of boobs is tragic, but I was thinking more in terms of exploring a giant dragon slit.” He closed his eyes and acquired a dreamy look at the image, which caused Fortrakt to blink as Marco went on.

“And come to think of it, why should I have all the fun? You two could join in. Just imagine giving her giant clit a boob job. Or sucking it like a cock while the lower half of you is inside her. In fact, I could be there with you taking you from behind. That way I get to be inside two girls at once.” He clutched both girls to him as his cock spurted clear fluid once onto Gilda’s nearest two teats.

Tara gave a startled glance as Gilda stared at him in disbelief and started to squirm, her expression going distant. But she covered up what Fortrakt could tell were her suddenly heady thoughts with more insults, even as Marco took advantage of her state to reach his soft digits down far enough to explore her nest with his fingers. “Crows take it. So I was right all along—you really are a pervert, Lakan!” she said as she stared down at his hand working her in disbelief, making no effort to stop him.

“And proud of it, Decurion. So how about you, Tara? Want to do it in a dragon nest?” He reached down her body to slip his fingers between her legs as well, and this time he did elicit a startled cry of pleasure, followed by her turning slightly towards him to allow easier access.

Despite her pleasured groan, Tara answered. “Not a bad idea. I’d love to make out with Gilda chest-deep in a dragon slit. It’d be the ultimate all-girl threesome, and yeah, I’d happily give her giant clit a boob job. But sorry, Marco—you’re not invited. Because I’d much rather see you pleasuring a giant dragon cock,” she suggested slyly as she reached down to begin rolling and kneading his balls, causing his eyes to go wide at the image.

“Aw, man… now I would love that!” Chris offered eagerly. “I hear dragons have bifurcated cocks that can climax independently. That means both of us could go down on them at once, buddy!”

“Wha—?” Marco started to say as this time, he began to squirm at the image, his hands stilling inside of his two eaglesses.

“Oh, I think he likes that, Gilda,” Tara teased as she began to stroke his spear. “He might even get off on the idea of that alone.”

“A tiercel-tucker to the end,” Gilda agreed with a grin, reaching down to stroke his spear just as Fortrakt was doing to Chris. “Just imagine him covered with steaming dragon spunk. Oh, and I hear their smoke is a potent aphrodisiac during their migration and mating seasons. One breath, and you’ll be so hard or in heat that you’ll rut anything that moves.”

“It’s true…” Fortrakt confirmed, watching the scene with the three intently from between his two tiercel friends. “Smoke from their mating seasons is very hard to get and very illegal to imbibe in the Kingdom. But if you know the right griffons or especially Saddle Arabians, it sells for princely sums in the underground markets.”

“Really? Sounds like fun. So why is it illegal?” Chris asked in somewhat strained tones as he began to piston his hips lightly at the description.

“Because its effects can be dangerously unpredictable, both mentally and physically,” Giraldi explained in an increasingly breathless air, continuing to thrust lightly into Fortrakt’s body, who felt fresh waves of pleasure radiating from his rear. “As it imparts both severe sexual cravings and dragon inclinations towards dominance, and given they fight for the right to mate even harder than griffons do, it’s been known to cause rapes or… untoward urges, such as between siblings. Or even between parents and cubs when the former smoked it in the latter’s presence…”

He paused long enough to shiver and take a shuddering breath at what Fortrakt thought might be thoughts of his own family. Finding he liked the idea himself, he encouraged the First Spear to think even harder about it, causing him to start pawing at Chris more urgently and thrusting himself more quickly into Fortrakt’s rear.

“You seem to like that idea. Imagining it happening to your family, Galen?” Tara asked with a teasing grin, to which he rumbled happily.

“Indeed I am, Tara Fields, as I find myself fantasizing about my twin teenage tiercels and even my two younger daughters. But the aphrodisiac effects of dragon smoke do not end there. In rare instances, it can cause an overproduction of hormones that don’t ebb for many weeks, lasting as long as the dragon mating season. Or even months in extreme cases, leaving tiercels with endless erections and an eagless in seemingly permanent heat… none of which seems even remotely wrong right now,” he admitted, closing his eyes in fantasy.

“Oh? Do tell, big guy,” Marco invited, his mind clearly turning. “What would you do with it?”

“If I could somehow get hold of it, Marco Lakan? Then I might see fit to release some of that smoke among your male Marines so I could seduce them. Or even in my own abode, if it would allow not just me, but my wife and cubs to know these passions and pleasures as well.”

“Holy shit…” Chris said as he visualized it, and Fortrakt found himself doing so vividly as well. “Just so long as I could be there. Especially with the Marines.”

“I’d love to watch, too. Dragon smoke: the new Viagra. After whatever this stuff is, anyway…” Tara took another hard swallow of cider from her mug and exhaled happily; her boobs growing another inch in Marco’s hand. “Seriously, are those the only issues? If they are, they’d be plenty popular with us, too.”

“Unfortunately no, Tara Fields. As fun as the fantasy is, I would be remiss to omit that there are also some accounts of too much dragon smoke causing debilitating withdrawal symptoms. And even anatomical changes after imbibing too much of it, such as altered vision—dragons see not just light, but heat—and even a near-total tolerance to extremely hot temperatures. Supposedly, a pony arcane theorist trying to surreptitiously observe a dragon clan during their rut was able to take a swim through a lava lake to escape some drakes who spotted him. Needless to say, I would not volunteer to try that. Even if I find the idea of laying with drakes… intriguing.”

He took another drink out of his own bowl as he spoke, causing Fortrakt to arch his back and groan as he distinctly felt the stature of Giraldi’s griffon member swell within him, wondering if even a Saddle Arabian could fill him so fully.

To his surprise, his own spear then expanded further into the rear of Chris even without taking a drink, leaving him guessing that he just got injected with more cider from behind. Whatever the answer, the effect then passed to Chris in turn, whose spear grew in Giraldi’s grasp and immediately began to drool harder.

“You hear that, Marco?” Tara asked as he stared at them raptly to see Chris enhanced further, looking for a moment like she was considering reaching for it. “You should definitely go next time the dragons have their rut. I’m sure their adolescents who can’t win a slit would find taking your tail a good consolation prize. If you’re lucky, you might even find one or two who are as subby as you!”

“Just so long as we can watch,” Gilda piled on gleefully, biting lightly at one of Marco’s odd male nipples, which was noticeably larger and harder than it had originally been. “Never mind the adults; just being turned into a tuck toy for adolescent drakes would serve you right after all this. Or better yet, being forced to pleasure an adult’s giant ‘cock’.”

“Drakes? Take my tail? But… that’s…” Marco shuddered, groaned, and then his spear erupted in Tara’s grasp to shower his chest and face with fresh seed, spattering Gilda as well.

“Oops. Sorry, Marco. Guess you can’t chase the gay away so easily,” Tara said with an evil grin as she offered her fingers to Gilda to lick clean. “Now how about we resume the movie before Marco has any more flights of same-sex fancy? Hate to say it, but I’m actually starting to enjoy having his hands on me.”

“Aw. But it’s fun watching him cream himself! And I wanna hear more about Dragon Lord Pele! And her army of giant double-cocked dragons!” Chris went crestfallen from where Fortrakt held him.

“And I, too, wish to hear more of these ‘flights of fancy’, which I admit finding some interest in myself. For I agree that to pleasure an adult drake would be the ultimate tiercel-tucking experience,” Giraldi said wistfully, to which Gilda gave him a look.

“Yeah, yeah, you like the idea of doing giant dragon spears as much as some dweeby drakina in the middle of nowhere likes our booze as well as being boned. It’s all really interesting but also a crow-damned distraction. Now by my order, how about you three shut the ‘hell’ up? I want to get back to battle!” she told them, then looked up at Marco. “Did I say that right?”

“Sure did, Gilds,” he said with a grin as Tara mopped him up with the remains of his dress shirt—they’d taken it from his closet to use as a makeshift towel—before tossing it over her shoulder into the increasingly large and seed-soaked pile of their towels and garments. “And by your command. I don’t want to keep my ladies waiting, so let’s restart the show and try not to get distracted again?” This time, instead of his cider, he took a full swig of whiskey and sighed happily. “Damn, even this tastes better now…”

“Then I’ll take some too. And yeah, I think I’m with Gilda, here. Can you three stop geeking out over every little thing for like two minutes?” Tara requested as she snuggled back into Marco’s side, clasping Gilda’s talons across Marco’s crotch.

“No promises,” Chris said with a grin as he reached out to tap the portal device again. This time, the scene with Colonel Doolittle ended to bring the viewer back to Hawaii, showing Admiral Nimitz and the intelligence officer—Lieutenant Commander Layton, Fortrakt remembered his name was, wondering what griffon naval rank it would be equivalent to—examining the latest Japanese moves over a map marked with odd tokens. Noting that the Japanese were sending their carriers into the ‘Coral Sea’, Layton remarked that they were trying to ‘break our lifeline to Australia’.

“Australia?” Fortrakt had to ask despite Gilda’s warning glare at interrupting the movie again. “You mean the isolated and barely contacted continent of Australis Torrida?”

“If I remember correctly, that’s what you call it, yes,” Chris confirmed.

“In other words, where the flying foxes, digger dingos and koalaroos live?” Gilda said derisively. “A bunch of bat-dweebs, diamond dog wannabes and leaf-eating grazers who live in trees and bound between branches? They can have them.”

“Huh. Didn’t know who lived there. In our world, it’s a former Dutch penal colony turned independent nation who was an ally during the war…” Chris began, but trailed off as the movie once again shifted to China to show Colonel Doolittle being led away with a village burning in the distance. His column was soon forced to scatter as Japanese bombers appeared and began dropping explosives all around them, killing several humans along the way.

When the attack passed, Colonel Doolittle stared after the departing bombers incredulously. “There are no installations here. What’s their target?” he demanded to know, only to be given a chilling single-sentence answer:

“People are target!” came the reply from the bespectacled schoolteacher who spoke Equish.

Though Fortrakt had never heard the word ‘people’ before, he guessed the meaning easily enough. And so did Giraldi, to judge by his sudden growl which Fortrakt could feel even in the phallus filling his tail.

“Such dishonorable tactics to deliberately target civilians,” he said darkly to see the indiscriminate bombing followed by a pile of fly-covered human corpses in a corner, as the American officer realized that his attack on the Japanese mainland had only made matters worse for his ill-equipped allies. “Even the Ibexian Ascendency would not do such a thing.”

“Yeah, well, they know you’d retaliate hard if they did. But as you can see from this scene, the Chinese of this day were somewhat backwards,” Chris replied. “They had no modern military and couldn’t really resist one, except through massed infantry attacks and hit-and-run tactics. Their only advantages were having vast amounts of territory to conquer and a numbers advantage.”

“I see. Your description sounds suspiciously like the difficulties the Gryphon Empire encountered early in its invasion of Equestria,” Giraldi noted, “And unfortunately, the Empire did resort to similar means in an effort to cow a restive populace.”

“I’ll, uh, take your word for it since I haven’t studied that war. And unfortunately for us, these kinds of terror tactics were practiced by both sides in World War Two to break the enemy’s morale and will to fight,” Chris replied.

“And yet, it never worked—except arguably once, at the very end. But even that… no.” He turned brooding again, clasping Fortrakt’s talons harder to him as the scene shifted yet again to show what appeared to be the aftermath of a battle, including what appeared to be a burning and sinking carrier. “Sorry, big guy, but I don’t want to say more.”

Giraldi’s only response was to accede by giving Chris’s organ a reassuring squeeze just as Admiral Halsey spoke. “A day too late,” he said in disgust and resignation to his carrier’s commander to witness the sinking ship.

“That leaves us and Hornet as the only carriers in the Pacific,” the Enterprise Captain confirmed grimly.

“As he says, their group got there a day too late from the Doolittle raid to assist in the battle. The sinking carrier is the USS Lexington,” Chris detailed, “while the USS Yorktown in the foreground was badly damaged and forced to seek port in Hawaii, having to make extensive repairs before she’d be able to fight again. That meant our carrier strength was halved just as the Japanese were planning an even bigger operation, putting us at an even worse disadvantage. It would be the equivalent of losing half your capital airships in one go, leaving the Ibexian Ascendancy with a three to one naval supremacy.”

“Ancestors…” Fortrakt shivered at the thought of having to face war with the Ascendancy under such a disparity of numbers, and not from the spear still throbbing deep within him. “Could you make more carriers?” he suddenly wondered aloud.

“Sure, buddy, but given how big they are, building one takes many months to years. Naval expansion was already underway even before the war broke out and new ships were being constructed as fast as we could, but it would be a year or more after the attack on Pearl before they would start appearing in significant numbers,” Chris explained.

“Planes are certainly much quicker to manufacture and easier to replace, but trained and experienced pilots are not. Like you saw earlier, they had to learn on the job, and I’m sure that even you guys aren’t automatically good at air combat when you become soldiers.”

“Definitely not…” a suddenly subdued Giraldi said. “And those who believe they are seldom live long when faced with veteran Harpies. Or even winged ibex who know how to fight them in the air.”

“Ibex? You mean you have winged goats here?”Tara was incredulous.

“Not naturally, Tara Fields. They can grow them with magic using their impressive antlers, though it is not without severe and crippling drawbacks. As it is not their true anatomy and their bodies are not designed for flight, they cannot maintain such an artificial enhancement indefinitely and their performance in the air is generally poor” Giraldi answered, leaving Fortrakt wondering how often he’d faced such ibex before.

“On the other wing, some ibex can temporarily turn themselves into griffons or other flying races like dragons, though the severe drain on their power it imparts means that they cannot maintain such a foreign form for very long, Changelings they are not, as unlike that elusive race, their use of such transformative magic is not only short-lasting but easily detected, so it cannot be used for infiltration. It is also very difficult for them to fly and fight effectively as another race, given it is not instinctive to them. But they have certain well-trained units that specialize in aerial combat and are almost able to go wing to wing with us. They tend to use mass attacks in such instances, relying on numbers and formation flying to maximize their advantage.”

“Changelings…” Tara shook her head. “Still can’t believe that such a race exists. Equestria hates them after Canterlot was attacked. Do you have them, too?” She turned worried, causing Gilda to reach across Marco to grasp her talons.

“It is believed that there is at least one hive present in the Kingdom, but they haven’t been heard from directly in centuries,” Giraldi stated. “Though not particularly liked here even before the hive of Queen Chrysalis attacked Equestria, they have at least proven benign.”

“The Lepidoptes hive,” Fortrakt confirmed. “The Gryphon Empire’s greatest bane. It’s rumored that they’re still living among us now, but we’ve never found them despite centuries of searching.”

“Uh, guys? We’re getting distracted again,” Marco said as he noted Gilda’s growing annoyance; Fortrakt only then noticed that Tara had paused the movie again. “Can we get back to the show, please?”

“Oops! Sorry, Gilda,” Chris quickly said as the movie was resumed, this time showing a discussion between the other Admiral—Nimitz? Such a strange name—and Layton, the intelligence officer, who advised him that Coral Sea was just a ‘warm-up’ to a much bigger operation whose target they did not yet know.

“He’s not wrong. The Battle of Coral Sea was another important prelude to Midway, and I kind of wish they’d spent more time on it in the movie,” Chris had to add. “It was the first carrier-vs-carrier engagement in history, fought strictly through their air wings, and the Japanese did not emerge unscathed.”

“Oh?” Giraldi perked up.

“Nope. Not shown is that they lost a light carrier and took heavy damage to one of their big ones, as well as having its air wing gutted attacking the American fleet. It seemed like a defeat at the time since we lost more than them, but as it turned out, it was a strategic victory for reasons I’ll explain later. I don’t want to give away the game,” he said simply as Admiral Halsey was shown entering a below-deck area.

“Attention on deck!” The call came out as everyhuman inside instantly leapt to attention; Fortrakt noted that it seemed to be something they did whenever a high-ranking officer arrived. The Admiral then dismissed everyone but two officers—the ‘Dauntless’ pilot they’d seen at the start of the movie and his mustachioed commander, promoting them both. The former—his full name was Dick Best? —was made “C-O” of “bombing six” while his superior whose name Fortrakt couldn’t recall was made commander of the entire ‘air group’.

“An interesting decision. I admit I had my doubts about that young pilot, who seemed skilled but far too cocky and reckless for my tastes at the start—especially given he was a father, when he should not be taking such needless risks for the sake of his mate and cub. He seems to be maturing as the movie goes along, though,” Giraldi noted appreciatively. “Responsibility for others does tend to cure overconfidence and arrogance such as he showed, but not always.”

“In this case, it does. He has the biggest and best character arc of the movie,” Tara noted appreciatively, “and deservedly so. He isn’t bad-looking, and I like that he’s a family man, too. The war seems to have reminded him of what’s important in his life. What’s his name again, Chris?”

“Lieutenant Dick Best, while the other is Commander Wade McClusky. Just as before, both are real historical figures with a definite claim to military fame,” Chris answered. “As to what that claim is and why the moviemakers saw fit to tell so much of this story through the character of Dick Best, I can only tell you and Gilda to keep watching, big guy. Because—no pun intended—the best is yet to come…”