An ashen haze hung in the sky as the sun struggled to make itself known. A thick, soupy mixture of grays and golds stirred above as Sydney twisted and stretched to bring some life into her battered body. Once the fighting had stopped, she had wrapped herself in her jacket and sat on the ship’s hull. She untwisted her internal warrior-coil long enough to let the hum of the engine lull her to sleep. Now she yawned; wincing as she tasted the sulfuric remains that hung in the sky that now burned her tongue. Sydney pulled the goggles to the top of her head and rubbed her eyes trying to consider the time. A vast medical ship floated overhead; the smoke from its stacks blasted a small hole though the mirky morning.
Sydney climbed out from under makeshift blanket and threw it over her shoulders as she walked to the edge of the deck. With Radio Tower 15 in front of her, she could see she was still on course. She took the time to review the barge sails in the light to make sure she had accessed their minimal damage correctly. Proudly she patted the rail as she commended herself for once again keeping the GF1993 in the air. It was one of the oldest ships in their fleet, but as she constantly reminded her troops, younger is not always better.
The pack came so fast this time, delivering a shower of hell fire with no warning. By the time the alarms sounded, many people had lost too much. Hagad, the King of the dragons, had led his mighty army of flying terrorists through our village with our demise as his only goal. He had failed. And as long as the GF1993 and Lt. Sydney Skyler both kept humming along, the small village of Avenga would continue to survive.