jeriendhal | Flyboys, Part Nineteen

Well, more accurately “not crashing.” As the nose rose skyward Rolas pushed the stick forward, remembering the vortex of smoke that appeared when they fanned air over the tiny wings of their test model in the days before they built their glider. Too high of an angle and the wings would stop generating lift and he'd plummet to the ground, marvelous engine or not. Stick forward not too much and back again keep the rudder steady left wing dipping a bit there bring it up don't center the stick just keep it moving! It took several seconds, but he managed to puzzle out the controls. With a greater speed than the glider, every movement was magnified. Light delicate touches were needed, a constant dance for balance. If he stopped paying attention for a moment it would certainly get away from him and he'd roll out of control and crash.

Once he was sure of himself he risked a small bank, bringing the aeroplane around in a lazy circle. As with the glider the easiest turns required a harmony between the ailerons and the rudder. Relying on just the former risked a flat spin, and the latter would result in a roll that would probably end with him going nose down into a field.

Below he could hear wild whooping. Rolas leaned his head out over the cockpit and waved down at his family and Artineth. Rulfen had grabbed Bel by the hands and was swinging her around in a wild dance, while Artineth hopped up and down waving his cap, and they all yelled up at him incomprehensibly. He waved , and Rulfen shouted back up, “Good show, Rollie! It's wonderful!”

“She's a dream, Rulf!” he called back down. Goddess, his ship felt alive. As his confidence at his handling grew, Rolas closed his eyes briefly. Yes, he could almost reach out and feel the wind flowing over the wings, every movement transmitted through the aeroplane's frame and up to him through the control stick and rudder pedals. It's easy, Goddess bless it's easy, he thought. Now, let's see what she can really do. He opened the throttle to full and pointed the nose downward. As the wind began to sing through the support wires, he pushed down on the left rudder pedal and leaned the control stick over, pushing the aeroplane into a snap roll.

That's when the propeller exploded.

Somethings struck Rolas hard in the temple and whizzed past his ear as the suddenly truncated and off balance propeller began shredding itself to pieces while the engine threatened to tear itself loose from its mounting. Hot oil poured from the engine, splattering his goggles and burning his fur, as choking smoke poured out. He reached down and quickly pulled the throttle back, shutting off the engine. Rolas couldn't see a thing but he could feel that the aeroplane was pointing straight at the ground. He hauled the stick back, bringing the nose up as he tore at his goggles, trying to get a clear view. He was maybe five hundred arms in the air and dropping fast as the engine's dead weight drew the ship inevitably towards the ground.

I need to land, fast! Flames were licking around the engine cowling, from spilled oil or a cracked fuel line, there was no telling. At his current rate of descent there was no way in the Goddess's green world that he was going to make it back to the road for a smooth landing, The fields were out, with the spring planting just completed and the rows tilled, making them too bumpy and dangerous . What he needed was a smooth flat spot. Or a wet spot! he thought, glancing to his right and catching sight of a small pond. It was an irrigation reservoir, fed from a well, designed to keep the fields watered even in the hot days of summer. He angled his dying ship to the right, trading off a few precious lengths of speed for maneuverability.

His wheels bumped the rim of the reservoir and he popped a few arms back into the air, before settling down again. Rolas gritted his teeth for the inevitable as the aeroplane sank down. The wheels touched the water and suddenly his craft's speed dropped dramatically. Then without warning it flipped nose forward and plunged into the water, turning onto its back as it sank towards the bottom. Oh, instead of burning up or dying from the crash, I'm going to drown, Rolas thought for a single lucid moment before panic set it. He struggled with the straps of his harness, ducking his head down into the cockpit as the aeroplane hit the muddy bottom. He was trapped.