“I am ready to fly solo,” Sam beamed. “Hassaway said I can fly solo tomorrow. Isn’t it marvellous?”
“It certainly is. Congratulations. How many solo hours do you need before you get your license?”
Sam quietened and reflected for a moment. “The total minimum flying time’s twenty hours. I can do those next week, as long as the weather holds. After I accumulate those hours, if I pass my practical test, I’ll have my sports license. Then I’ll go flying every day—I want to fly four or five hours a day, at least. We’ve already passed the theory exams for our licenses, although Freddie needs to catch up with his flying.”
“You’re very ambitious, Sam.” Charles was leaning on the solid door post of his shed, entertained by the enthusiasm of the young Rat.
“No, not really, Uncle Charles. It’s just that I think flying is in our DNA. In fact, I’m sure of it. I think New Rats should grow wings.”
“Now, that’s the most alarming concept I’ve encountered, ever. Stick with flying aircraft, please. Perhaps we can arrange for Freddie to have some extra hours flying in the school holidays.”
The following weekend they all visited the airfield to see Sam complete his final practical test for his sports license. Hassaway introduced them to a different senior instructor. Fortunately, he had no problem with younger or shorter students.
“Come along, Sam,” the new senior instructor directed, after he was introduced. “Your father and friends can either sit in the lobby or watch from the front of the hangar while we go for a short flight with you as pilot in command.”
Freddie was both anxious and envious. He wanted Sam to pass, and at the same time realized he would find it difficult to catch up with his friend’s flying progress.
Cedric 33rd noticed the conflicting emotions on Freddie’s face. “Don’t worry, Freddie. You’ll catch up in the school holidays. I think the flying school will give you a discount, because they’re about to commence training our first intake of pilots, starting next month. I’ve seen how you and Sam have progressed and it’ll be interesting if our young candidates can match the pace set by you both.”
The small audience watched Sam prepare for his flight and then taxi the small sports aircraft down the short runway. His take-off was flawless, and they watched him circle the airfield and carry out manoeuvres requested by the senior instructor. He then made his landing run and settled the small aircraft down without a bounce. He taxied back to the hangar and stopped the aircraft just outside the hangar doors. After what seemed like hours, Sam and the senior instructor exited the small sports aircraft, and Sam had an extremely happy expression on his face.
“He said I did an excellent job,” he exclaimed. “And I have my license now. I know, it’s only for sports aircraft. However, it’s the beginning of our Rat Air Force!”
There was mayhem for a few moments as everyone congratulated the young pilot. The senior instructor stood beside Sam and waited for everyone to quieten. “Yes, he did an excellent job. He’s a natural flyer.”
Sam and his father had a long discussion when they returned to Freddie’s home, and Freddie listened with growing dismay.
“Sam,” said Cedric 33rd, “I agree we should form a small air force, otherwise I wouldn’t be funding the construction of five Spitfires in the workshop next door. However, you’re not going to be able to do everything from Freddie’s home. I know, Freddie’s a tremendous help, and so is Charles. They are good people. However, you need to recruit and train your team. You need mechanics as well. We can rent some empty hangar space, and I’ll lend you some people to get you started.”
“I could spend the weekends here, at least?”
“Yes, that’s possible. Of course, you can visit any time you want.”
“Freddie’ll be able to help me train beginners.”
Charles spoke up. “Sam, Freddie’s most important objective is to complete his school year with the highest marks possible so he can go to University next year. The end of the school year is only two months away.”
“I can help Sam, Uncle Charles.”
“I don’t mind you providing a modest amount of assistance, it will help you both. But I emphasize—a ‘modest’ amount. You have your flying and your school work. Helping Sam train an intake of fifteen is not going to happen.”
Freddie looked rebellious for a moment and then realized the validity of his uncle’s statement. “I understand. As long as Sam can visit weekends and I can do my flying.”
“Agreed. Sam and indeed you, Cedric, are welcome visitors here, anytime. Now I believe Freddie’s Mum has a celebration planned, she’s been cooking up a storm in her new kitchen. Come on inside.” Charles led the way.
~~~
Sam discovered the task of building a team was not an easy one. After some research, he rented a hangar at the same airfield where the flying school was located and accepted his father’s offer of support staff. Cedric allowed Sam to borrow two sergeants from his Royal Guard, while Sam seconded a major, a captain and two lieutenants, two privates who would make very good messengers, and three drivers and vehicles, all from his own regiment. Then he sat with Freddie and started reading applications from 325 Rats, all of whom wanted to join and attend the first RAF training course, although many were not sure what the course covered or even why they wanted to attend.
He complained to Freddie, who was not at all sympathetic. “You wanted to establish your RAF,” Freddie pointed out, “so you need to organize it. Then delegate, that’s why you have those officers.”
“Hmm. You’re right as usual. First I’ll get Major Dane 193 to send the sergeants to make sure the hangar is ready. If it needs cleaning I’m sure they can find some idle hands from my regiment to do some work. Then he can read these applications and make recommendations. When he’s finished, he can start to think about how we get some flight mechanics. I’ll ask Captain Light 11 to talk to the build team in the workshop and produce a progress report for me. He needs to learn all about the team’s building activities and he can report every week. Dane and Light can utilize the two lieutenants however they see fit. See, all done. Now we can go fly, it’s Saturday after all.”
Freddie laughed and shook his head. “Not quite what I meant. However, if it means we can do some flying, I approve.”
Formation of Sam’s RAF progressed very efficiently after he delegated various tasks to his new team. Fifteen suitable candidates were identified for the first training intake, interviewed, and recruited; and they threw themselves enthusiastically into studying the flying school’s training material. Sam’s time was spent checking on the trainees, monitoring the construction of the Spitfires, and ensuring everyone had enough work to do. However, he delegated most of the tasks to Major Dane and ensured nothing interfered with his flying.
After another week, Charles spoke to Sam and Freddie. “Well, boys, our model’s ready to be assembled and glued, and then it’ll be ready for the engine to be installed. I want to do the final assembly at the airfield and would like to borrow some space in your hangar, Sam. Can your father arrange transport? Or can you? I know you have lots of helpers.”
Sam’s eyes glowed. “I can arrange it. Now? Or tomorrow?”
“No, not now. Tomorrow or later, depending on when you can arrange transport. See if your build team wants to join us. They’re close to completing their first aircraft, and assisting us will help their understanding.”
Sam wanted to call everyone he could think of to help Charles, and Freddie had to stop him from including the local television channel. He thought his friend was overexcited and calmed him down.
“Sam, just your father, an e-car-with a trailer if you have access to one, and enough Rats to assist. Plus the build team. But no more.”
“All right. Major Dane 193 can organize the details. The trainees will help. We can get as many other Rats as necessary. I’ll call His Highness, he’ll want to be here. Uncle Charles can supervise.”
“That’s better. Schedule
the transport for the weekend.”
Sam smiled and thanked Freddie. His calls were quickly made and he soon had everything organized for the following Saturday.
A small convoy of vehicles moved slowly away from Freddie’s home. A squad of enthusiastic Rats had carefully loaded the finished components for Charles’s replica Spitfire onto a trailer and then very carefully strapped them down. Immediately the load was secured, Rats and humans had bundled themselves into the waiting vehicles, eager to reach the airfield. The front and rear vehicles were occupied by members of the Royal Guard, there to protect Cedric 33rd and his son Sam. Other vehicles carried trainees, team members from the garage, and of course Charles, Cedric 33rd, Sam, and Freddie.
They were halfway to the airfield when, with sirens blaring, a dozen or more vehicles sped past the smaller convoy. Some minutes later, Cedric 33rd, who was listening to a communications device, cautioned his fellow passengers as their convoy halted.
“My apologies, Charles. We need to stop for a few minutes. There’s a minor disturbance ahead. We need to wait until it settles down.”
Freddie looked at Sam who frowned and shook his head. “I don’t know,” Sam whispered. “It might be a human problem.”
“No, Sam, not this time. It’s our problem. Cats were setting up an ambush. However, they were detected by scouts from your battalion who called out my Royals. I suspect Cat scouts have observed you travelling to the airfield for your lessons. We need to schedule more patrols out this way.”
“Cats?” Charles and Freddie spoke in unison.
Cedric 33rd looked at Charles for a moment and then he said. “Yes. New Cats—they continue to be our enemies. We’ve tried all kind of peace efforts, but without success; their attitudes are very similar to the terrorist groups who attack human Western civilization. Cats have evolved over the last hundred years, although not as far or as fast as we have, and their evolutionary path is different. Normal cats have very strong killer instincts, and New Cats even more so. They attack us whenever they see an opportunity. We think they are being supported by sympathetic humans; the traditional human-cat bond, which has existed for thousands of years, has a significant influence on both groups. Of course, we’re rodents, and therefore seen as scavengers. Some humans do not comprehend either the scope or reality of our evolution.” Cedric’s tone was factual.
“Wow,” exclaimed Freddie. “That’s why Sam is so concerned about cats.”
“We don’t mind house cats,” advised Sam. “Your Tabby’s a nice guy. He’s very friendly and his purring puts me to sleep.”
Charles looked thoughtful. “I have, of course, noted your evolutionary advancement. It seems to be widespread. Yesterday I watched as a crow very thoughtfully used a screwdriver to open a container. Oddly, these changes receive very little publicity.”
“Mainly because we have agreements with the networks. Well, we are major shareholders in two of them. Our lobby team works very closely with human politicians. Also, where possible, we make an effort to avoid publicity. Often humans don’t even see us. It seems if something happens which is too unbelievable, humans subconsciously pretend it didn’t happen. When we have attacks like this, my Rats take care of it without involving humans, as long as only Cats and Rats are involved.” He listened again to the communication device. “It seems our problem has been resolved.”
The convoy resumed its modest cruising speed, the drivers still careful of the trailer contents. Sam and Freddie kept careful watch, and after a mile or so they saw the vehicles which earlier had sped past them, parked on the side of the road. Whatever action had been required was now over, and neither humans nor Cats were visible to passers-by.
The convoy reached the airfield without further adventure and drove to the hangar which was to be the home of the Rat Air Force. Other vehicles were already parked around the building and Freddie noted the presence of a large contingent of uniformed and armed Rats. He nudged Sam.
“Guards?”
“Yes. This is now a military area, and half my regiment’s on duty here. We need to protect the aircraft. They think I need protection as well—and you.”
“Me?” squeaked Freddie in surprise. “But I’m not a Rat.”
“You associate with Rats,” advised Cedric 33rd, overhearing their exchange. “More importantly, you, your mother, and your Uncle Charles are our friends, and we will not allow anyone or anything to harm our friends.”
“Our guards have been all around your home for months,” advised Sam, “and the shed, and the workshop next door. They’ve been guarding you on your way to school and back. At first I protested, I didn’t want guards in place. His Highness pointed out too many Cats were prowling around. We couldn’t take risks.”
***
Chapter 12
Charles, with the Rats, worked long hours through the remainder of the weekend to assemble his Spitfire model, and gradually, the aircraft took its final shape. The aircraft would sit in the hangar for a week while the final assemblies set and cured. The remaining tasks were scheduled for the following weekend. Charles had decided on the paint and colour scheme and was ready to install the engine and radio control equipment. The time for the test flight was getting closer.
Two weeks later, Charles was ready to roll out his new model aircraft. He was exhausted and exhilarated. Young Sam and Freddie matched him with their excitement. Cedric and a large number of Rats were in attendance, either to assist or to watch. The replica Spitfire, painted an azure blue instead of traditional camouflage, glistened in the sun.
“This is the first flight,” cautioned Charles as he stood next to the aircraft while everyone took photos. “I won’t be doing anything fancy. I’ll use the radio controls to taxi the model along the runway, in both directions. If the weather remains favourable, I may take off and land, as well. Now please stand back, I don’t want to visit anyone in hospital.”
Charles had spent the previous day calibrating and testing the aircraft’s remote radio controls. Rat engineers had installed and tested the new electric motor, everything was ready. When he was certain everyone was safely out of the way, Charles used his remote controls to start the motor. It started effortlessly, the propeller disappearing into a spinning blur. He signalled, and two Rats removed the wheel chocks. He used the radio controls again, and after a moment the small Spitfire gradually moved forward and then slowly accelerated. Charles tested all the aircraft’s controls, moving ailerons and rudder, setting and releasing brakes, accelerating and decelerating the motor, until at last he was satisfied.
He contacted the small traffic control centre and obtained permission to use the runway. He directed the Spitfire onto the runway and it trundled along without apparent effort. He gradually increased the throttle setting and the aircraft accelerated until it was travelling at 40 mph. The design parameters indicated the scale aircraft would lift off once its speed reached 50 mph. He then reduced power to the motor and gradually applied the brakes until he was able to turn the aircraft 180 degrees and set it on course back along the runway. The aircraft behaved impeccably, slowing, turning, and then accelerating as directed.
Freddie and Sam watched wide-eyed; they were impressed with the flawless performance of the brand new replica Spitfire. “I want one,” breathed young Sam. “The engineering team is going to be under so much pressure.”
“Uncle Charles, now increase its speed, make it take off,” said Freddie.
Charles agreed with Freddie; it was time to see if the Spitfire would take off and fly. However, he wanted to make sure everything was functioning correctly and guided the plane back to the hangar. He directed the Rat engineers to check all the fittings, control, surfaces, and the condition of the motor.
At last, Charles and the aircraft were ready for their next test. He contacted the flight control centre who gave permission for a take-off test. He directed his helpers to turn the aircraft around and once everyone had moved well away, fired up the motor. The aircraft followed his direct
ions flawlessly as though it, too, wanted to try its wings. Again Charles directed the model onto the runway, pointing it into the wind.
Charles extended the flaps using the radio controls and increased power to the motor. The Spitfire accelerated and gradually lifted off the runway. Charles dropped the engine speed and the aircraft flared and dropped slowly and gently back down. He applied the brakes and slowed the aircraft, eventually turning it back towards the hangar. He was as excited as Sam and Freddie.
“Very good. Boys, so ends our first flight test,” he said, “and I want to check everything; things like wear on the brakes, all the controls, the engine oil, all the surfaces—just like a real aircraft. Then, tomorrow if the weather’s still fine, I’ll fly her again and do some basic flight manoeuvres.”
“Congratulations, Charles,” said Cedric 33rd. “I’m very impressed. If my—sorry—Sam’s team can do as well, we’ll have the basis for his RAF. Well done. Sam—assist Charles, consider it part of your training.”
“Yes, sir. Uncle Charles, just give my team instructions. You can sit and watch. It’s called delegation, you know.”
Freddie collapsed with mirth. “Delegation does not mean sit and watch, you idiot.”
“No? It works for me,” protested Sam.
Sam’s team worked diligently, following Charles’ directions. They checked all moving parts, all surfaces, and all the controls. Sam helped. He drained the oil and checked for discolouration and possible abraded fragments of metal. Rat engineers checked the brake pads for wear. Finally everyone was satisfied that the scale aircraft was in perfect condition.
“Well, it seems we can fly again,” affirmed Charles. “Everything checks out. The Spitfire is in excellent condition. Shall we say mid-morning tomorrow for our next flight?” The consensus was both noisy and enthusiastic.
Shen Ark: Departure Page 9