The guys next to me are talking in low voices about the war and what lies ahead of us but I cannot help but think of the past and Stephen...
His brown, curly hair and his smile, his lithe build and caring personality... Stephen has to be protected and if his troop doesn't protect him he won't have a chance. I used to be there to protect him when we were young and the Blacksummers meant swimming in the river behind his cottage...

"Come on, Alex!" Stephen shouted, grabbing my hand.
I'm sure Vivia was watching us from the cottage, her twelve year old twin and me, his boyfriend, running down the bank to the river. Vivia always was watchful over Stephen but it wasn't necessary today because Stephen and I both knew how to swim because of Blacksummer Training School where all boys went starting at age four to learn everything necessary for war.
Stephen splashed into the water first and turned around to pull me in but I kissed him instead. He seemed a little taken aback but it wasn't like we'd never kissed before.
Stephen tried to pull me into the water and so I let him but we ended up falling over in the waist-deep water.
I stood up right away of course because Stephen was beneath me and I didn't want to crush him and we were completely underwater when we fell.
I waited for him to surface but he didn't come up so I dove under to find him.
Stephen was a deadweight, unconscious from the fall because he hit his head on a rock. I found him a few metres down the stream being pulled by the semi-strong current and I dragged him onto the shore.
Vivia was already jogging toward us-- she'd seen me drag Stephen onto the bank-- and their mum-- pre-cancer at this point in time-- was right behind her.
"Good lord, Alex! Can't you keep your damn lips off of my son for a second?! You're going to be the death of him I swear!" she scolded me. I knew she didn't really mean to hurt me with her words but I'm a little offended.
Vivia gave Stephen CPR after forcing all the water out of his lungs and their mum called the hospital to let them know Stephen would be coming in.
Stephen himself was still passed out with a huge bruise on the back of his head and Vivia and I had to lug him to their mum's car for the ride to the hospital.
Vivia had school the next day and their mum had work so after a few hours of x-rays and cat scans, knowing Stephen had no permanent damage but he was still out like a light, they headed home. I didn't care if I had training the next day and I fell asleep on the hospital couch next to Stephen's bed.
He didn't come around until about 02:00 hours when I was out on the couch but I guess I woke up when he said my name. I blinked awake and went to his bedside.
"Don't try to pull me into the water again, Stephen," I whispered to him.
"Alex..." Stephen whimpered.
"Somebody's got to take care of you and that somebody's going to be me," I told him firmly. "You've got a concussion and you need some sleep." I glanced around the room for a morphine drip and I attach one to his IV.
We learned how to perform a successful open heart surgery by age ten in training so simple medical stuff like putting a morphine drip on an IV was simple stuff.
Stephen smiled weakly at me and wet his chapped lips. I watched the morphine kick into his system and his face softened. All the pain he was in instantly subsided and he fell back into what Alex assumed was a dreamless oblivion.

The hovercraft makes a jarring tremor in the sky and I'm ripped out of my train of thought. I grip the arms of the seat, grateful I buckled in before we took off. Several soldiers around me are yanking their seatbelts across their chests and into the slots as the craft quakes.
A deep man's voice comes from overhead. "This is your pilot speaking. We have entered Daemons Territory and we are experiencing some turbulence. Please buckle in of you haven't already done so. Seat suction is being turned on for your safety. Please standby for further announcements. Thank you."
Suddenly, suction jets are sucking in the air and my uniform from my seat. The armrests are sucking the air and keeping my arms from moving. My entire body is immobile.
"This is your pilot speaking again," the man's voice cracks over the loud speakers. "Due to turbulence levels and Daemon Base location we must land for your safety. Please stay in your seats until the all-clear is given. Thank you."
It's not like I could move if I wanted to but I close my eyes and let my mind wander. I wonder if Stephen's hovercraft is safe.

“There are sandwiches,” a guy who is sitting next to me in the hovercraft mentions.
I can smell the overpowering scent of tuna coming from the sandwich and I smile. “Yeah thanks,” I reply, standing to go grab one.
“Hey! What’s your name?” he calls out to me.
I grab a sandwich from the table and sit down next to him once again. “Stephen, and yours?” I inquire taking a bite.
“Jeremy,” he answers.
"So do you know what our section's doing?" I ask him. Each hovercraft's section has a different task when they're in combat. Some hovercrafts will fight on the land, some will do secret operations, some will be in the air doing dogfights...
"Water," Jeremy tells me.
I start thinking of the statistics and the probability of getting out of the summer alive.

Back in training we learned what to do for all tasks and we learned the statistics of survival for each section. Water was dead last, literally dead last. Most people died that went into the water section but that did mean Alex was probably not water so he'd have a higher chance of survival.
"Do you know what section hovercraft 700 is?" I query nervously.
"Dogfights," Jeremy replies. "Why?"
"Dogfights," I repeat quietly. "Alex is in the dogfights."
"Who's Alex? You okay, kid? I did the dogfights last summer. I'm nineteen," Jeremy informs me.
I close my eyes and think of the first time Alex and I flew a plane. We were thirteen...

"It's not like we're gonna actually bomb someone, Stephen," Alex whispers when I start to hyperventilate.
We're standing outside of the cockpit while our class is watching, pen and clipboard ready to mark every mistake and every stall in our flight pattern.

(It’s a good thing I was obsessed with planes when I was little or I never would have been able to write anything about the dogfights or planes in general XD by the way, Amelia Earhart and I have the same birthday :D that is the 24th of July)

“You just have to hop in the cockpit, Stephen,” Alex told me, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Remember? We’ve done this before, honey.”
Alex had once again calmed me down. “Right, just like practise. All right let’s go.” We opened up the doors to the cockpit and hopped in. I slid my headset on and buckled in. Alex flipped a few switches before the hum of the bomber engine revved. “Just a little practise flight, Stephen,” he reminded me.
“Right,” I responded, listening to the static in the headset. “This is Bomber Copter 231 (the combo of my two favourite numbers, 2 and 31), taking off from East Tower. I repeat this is Bomber Copter 231 taking off from East Tower. Over.” Alex and I wait for our trainer to come in over the headset before taking off.
“This is East Tower, we accept your request. Take off when ready. Over,” Mr. Hemingway’s deep voice cracked over the headsets.
“Roger that. Over,” Alex answered, pumping the clutch of the Bomber and releasing the throttle to send the plane forward and out onto the runway.
The Bomber rolled out smoothly and I turned up the coolant as the steaming sun beat down on us through the bulletproof glass. I pulled the lever back and the speedometer spiked to 112 km/h, allowing the plane to glide up the runway for take off.
Alex pressed a button and the wheels retracted into the Bomber.
We were flying.
I pulled the wheel upward slightly, careful not to make the plane stall while Alex made the dispatch to Mr. Hemingway in East Tower.
“Bomber Copter 231 is now flying west toward the green landing strip. We will be making our aerial loop and doing our practise shoot out before landing. Over,” he announced into the headset.
“Roger that. Proceed with caution. Over,” Mr. Hemingway responded.
An auto-piloted, target plane flew toward us. “Alex...” I started.
He shook his head. “Not yet. We can take it out faster if we wait a little longer...”
The plane was now just metres away preparing for fire.
“ALEX!!!” I shouted. “We need to loop and fire NOW!!!” I yanked the steering wheel down and we looped up and around carefully, flipping just moments before stalling.
Alex fired the machine guns attached to our plane at the targets on the “enemy” Bomber. Black smoke started rising from the opponent and I pulled the throttle back and pulled the wheel up so we could descend slowly (up and down are flipped on Bombers fyi and some other planes too so up is down and down is up :P) to the green landing strip.
“This is Bomber Copter 231, requesting permission to land on the green strip. Over,” Alex stated into the headset.
“Permission granted. Over,” the intercom cracked.
I lowered us onto the strip and it was over.
We passed our flight test.

“Who’s Alex?” Jeremy asks, bringing me back into the moment.
I blink and look at him. “My significant other,” I reply.