Dragon Squadron (An RAF Dragon Corps story) - 10. Above the Earth
n an alternate 1939 where dragons are Britain's aerial defenders, an admiral's son defies his naval heritage to join the RAF Dragon Corps...
Morning fog clung to the training grounds, blurring the edges of buildings, and turning the distant treeline into grey smudges. Jim stood among the remaining recruits at the flight line, shoulders squared despite the tension knotting his stomach.
After three days of ground training and bonding exercises with their dragons, today they would fly.
Twenty dragons lined the flight line, each wearing leather saddles secured with reinforced straps and gleaming metal buckles. Their wings remained folded against their bodies, but occasional adjustments sent ripples through the powerful muscles beneath scaled skin.
The beasts seemed to sense what was coming, shifting their weight from foot to foot, nostrils flaring as they caught the scents from their riders.
Aether stood fifth in line, his midnight-blue scales dulled by the grey morning light. He watched Jim approach, golden eyes unblinking. The dragon had accepted Jim’s touch, allowed him to mount briefly during bonding exercises, but actual flight was different.
Once airborne, there would be nothing between Jim and a fatal fall but Aether’s cooperation.
Sergeant Redfern paced before the assembled recruits, his boots crunching on gravel. “Today, gentlemen, you become dragon riders. Or you wash out. There is no middle ground.”
The recruits exchanged glances. Ronnie caught Jim’s eye and gave a tight smile that looked more like a grimace.
“You will mount your dragons,” Redfern said. “You will take off in formation. You will complete three circuits of the training grounds, and you will land where you began. Simple enough for even you lot to manage.”
No one moved when he finished speaking. Despite days of preparation, the enormity of the moment seemed to paralyse them all.
Dragons were not machines. They could not be controlled absolutely. Every recruit knew the stories of riders thrown from the saddle mid-flight, their dragons refusing commands
“What are you waiting for?” Redfern glared down the line. “Christmas?”
Marcus strode forward with easy confidence. His black dragon—Shadow, he’d named it—lowered its head in greeting as he approached. In one fluid motion, Marcus gripped the mounting strap and swung himself into the saddle, connecting the safety harness with practiced ease.
Marcus caught Jim’s eye and smirked. The challenge was clear.
Jim drew a deep breath and stepped towards Aether. He couldn’t let Marcus show him up again. The blue dragon watched Jim’s approach, head slightly tilted, assessing.
As Jim reached for the mounting strap, Aether shifted, muscles tensing beneath his scales.
For a moment, Jim feared the dragonwould pull away, rejecting him despite their progress. But he kept his movement smooth, not hesitating as he gripped the thick leather strap and pulled himself up. His left foot found the stirrup, right leg swinging over.
The world looked different from a dragon’s back. Higher, more precarious. The saddle felt solid enough beneath him, but Aether was alive, breathing, thinking.
Jim could feel the dragon’s muscles shift, the steady rhythm of his breathing. He adjusted his grip on the reins—leather straps attached to the bridle that encircled Aether’s head.
Around the flight line, other recruits were mounting with varying degrees of success. Ronnie struggled, his shorter frame making the climb more difficult. Brutus wasn’t helping, shifting restlessly as Ronnie fumbled with the mounting strap. Finally, a handler stepped in to steady the beast while Ronnie hauled himself up.
Others weren’t so fortunate. A recruit named Smith was immediately thrown off as he attempted to mount, his dragon twisting the moment his weight settled in the saddle. Smith hit the ground with a thud that made Jim wince. The rejected recruit limped away.
Jim kept his focus on Aether, feeling the dragon’s muscles tense beneath him. Not all the dragons wanted riders. Some tolerated humans only because they had to. Jim needed Aether to accept him completely—their lives would depend on it.
“Steady,” he murmured, though he wasn’t sure if he was reassuring the dragon or himself.
Redfern strode down the line, checking each mounted pair. He stopped before Jim, eyes narrowed as he assessed the bond between dragon and rider. “Harness secure, Ashford?”
“Yes, sir.” Jim had triple-checked the safety straps that ran from his flight suit to the saddle rings.
Redfern nodded once and moved on. When he reached the end of the line, he turned to face them all. “On my command, take flight!”
This was it—the moment he’d dreamed of since he first saw RAF dragon riders soaring above Portsmouth harbour.
Some recruits jumped the gun, urging their dragons forward before Redfern had fully lowered his arm. Their mounts responded with confused lurches, wings half-spreading, uncertain of the command. One dragon reared up, nearly unseating its rider.
Jim waited for the proper signal, hands steady on the reins despite his hammering heart. When Redfern’s arm dropped, he leaned forward, pressed his knees into Aether’s sides, and called the take-off command they’d practiced on the ground.
“Up!”
Aether’s wings snapped outwards with a sound like sails catching wind. The dragon crouched, muscles coiling, then launched into the air with a single, powerful thrust.
The ground fell away faster than Jim had expected, his stomach lurching as they shot skyward.
Wind whipped past Jim’s face despite the leather flying helmet and goggles.
The force of their ascent pushed him back in the saddle, and for a terrifying moment, he thought he might slide off.
His hands tightened on the reins, pulling back harder than he’d intended.
Aether faltered, wings missing a beat, their ascent wobbling.
Jim realized his mistake—he was fighting the dragon’s natural rhythm. The instructors’ words came back to him: “Don’t overthink it. Feel the dragon’s movements.”
Jim forced himself to loosen his grip slightly, to stop trying to control every motion.
Instead, he focused on matching Aether’s rhythm, adjusting his posture to move with the dragon rather than against him.
Aether stabilised, his powerful wings finding a steady beat that carried them higher with each stroke. The training ground spread out below them—buildings turned to miniatures, people to specks.
For the first time since mounting, Jim felt a flicker of control, of partnership with the great beast beneath him.
Not everyone was adjusting as well. Jim glanced around. Two recruits were spinning uncontrollably, unable to correct their flight paths as their dragons fought against contradictory commands. Another had veered far off course, his dragon seemingly ignoring all attempts to steer.
Instructors on their own dragons had taken to the air, circling below to monitor the chaos, but they did not intervene.
This was a test, after all.
Those who couldn’t manage would wash out.
Jim focused on perfecting his technique, making micro-adjustments to his posture and grip. He was starting to understand Aether now—how a slight lean could signal a turn, how the dragon responded to the subtlest shift in weight.
But he kept one eye on Ronnie, who was wobbling atop Brutus. The stocky brown dragon seemed frustrated with its rider’s jerky commands, wings beating out of sync as Ronnie overcorrected.
Brutus dipped sharply to the left. One of his wings folded awkwardly, disturbing the airflow over his body. Ronnie pulled hard on the right rein, but the movement only confused the dragon more.
“No, Ronnie!” Jim shouted.
Brutus began to spiral downward, wings struggling to find their rhythm again. Ronnie’s face was a mask of panic, his knuckles white on the reins as he pulled in every direction at once.
Either Ronnie fixed it, or he failed.
Jim knew that shouting specific commands might only confuse Brutus more. Besides, every dragon responded to different cues.
“Shift your weight! Open the right wing! Let the wind catch!”
Ronnie’s head snapped up, his eyes finding Jim’s. Understanding flashed across his face. He immediately stopped yanking on the reins and instead leaned right, pressing his leg firmly against Brutus’s side.
Brutus’s right wing extended fully, catching the air, and breaking their downward spiral. The dragon flapped hard, wings beating to regain lost altitude. They wobbled, steadied, then climbed slowly back towards the formation.
Ronnie looked shaken but managed a weak thumbs-up in Jim’s direction.
“If you need your mates to hold your hand, you shouldn’t be in the bloody air!” Redfern’s voice carried upward, cutting through the wind. “This isn’t a joyride, Blake. It’s war training!”
Jim didn’t regret stepping in—Ronnie might have crashed otherwise—but now he knew Redfern was watching him even closer than before. He turned his attention back to Aether, focusing on keeping the dragon in the proper position.
“Form up!” Redfern bellowed from below. “Standard arrow formation!”
The recruits scrambled to comply, urging their dragons into the familiar V-shape they’d practiced on the ground. Marcus was already positioning himself at the front right position, his black dragon moving with perfect precision through the air.
Jim guided Aether towards the left flank position, carefully adjusting his weight to signal the direction he wanted. The dragon’s wings shifted to bank left, then right, finding his place in the formation.
Jim was beginning to understand a fundamental truth about dragon riding. It wasn’t about dominating the beast or forcing it to obey. It was about partnership—communicating intent and trusting the dragon’s instincts in return.
Aether knew how to fly far better than Jim ever would. The rider’s job was guidance, not control.
Jim relaxed fractionally, allowing Aether more freedom to adjust his flight. The dragon seemed to sense the change, his movements becoming more fluid, more confident.
They completed the first circuit of the training grounds without further incident. Ronnie had managed to stabilise Brutus, though he still gripped the reins too tightly, his shoulders rigid with tension.
Three recruits had already been said to land, their erratic flying deemed too dangerous to continue.
As they began the second circuit, Redfern raised a hand. “Controlled dive manoeuvre! On my mark!”
Jim’s stomach tightened. The dive was one of the most challenging manoeuvres they’d studied—a rapid descent followed by a level glide, then a smooth ascent.
“Mark!”
Aether didn’t wait for Jim’s command. The dragon seemed to anticipate the manoeuvre, wings tucking closer to his body as he angled downward.
The sudden drop made Jim’s stomach lurch into his throat, his instincts screaming to pull up, to stop the plummet towards the rapidly approaching ground.
But something deeper told him to trust Aether.
Instead of fighting the descent, Jim leaned into it, adjusting his body to reduce drag, giving Aether the freedom to find the optimal angle.
The wind roared past his ears as they accelerated, the ground rushing up to meet them.
Just when Jim thought they’d left it too late, Aether’s wings snapped outward, catching the air, and converting their downward momentum into forward speed.
They levelled out just thirty feet above the training field, racing forward in a glide.
Then, with a powerful downbeat of his wings, Aether began to climb again, the transition from dive to ascent executed with such precision that Jim barely felt the g-forces.
For the first time since taking to the air, Jim grinned behind his goggles. This—this was flying!
Ronnie and Brutus pulled out of their dive too early, losing the potential energy that should have translated into forward speed. Their subsequent climb was laboured, the dragon struggling to regain altitude.
Marcus executed the dive perfectly, Shadow moving through the air like an arrow.
But Jim didn’t care anymore. He and Aether had found their rhythm, their understanding. They weren’t the most graceful pair in the sky, but they were learning each other’s movements, each other’s limits.
They completed the third circuit without further commands from Redfern, the formation holding steady despite fatigue beginning to show in some of the dragons’ wing beats.
“Return to flight line! In sequence!”
Aether began his descent, wings extending to their full span to create drag, slowing their forward momentum..
Jim watched as Marcus landed first, Shadow folding his wings at precisely the right moment, feet touching down with barely a sound. The black dragon took three measured steps to absorb the remaining momentum, then stopped at their starting position.
When Jim’s turn came, he tried to mirror Aether’s movements, to anticipate the moment of touchdown. But he misjudged, his posture too rigid as Aether’s feet hit the ground.
The impact jarred through Jim’s body, rattling his teeth, and sending a shock through his knees.
They stumbled forward several steps before Aether regained his balance, stopping a few feet from their assigned position.
Not a disaster, but far from the smooth landing Marcus had demonstrated.
Brutus came in too fast, nearly tumbling head over tail as his front legs caught the ground.
Only the dragon’s natural agility prevented a complete crash, though Ronnie was nearly thrown from the saddle in the process.
When all the remaining recruits had landed—three more had been said to remain airborne with instructor supervision until they could demonstrate basic control.
Sweat stained the recruits’ flight suits, faces flushed with exertion and adrenaline.
“Some of you,” Redfern said, “might actually survive this training.” He stopped in front of Marcus, eyes assessing. “Strong control, Canning.”
Marcus nodded. “Thank you, Sergeant.”
Redfern moved on to Ronnie. “You should’ve crashed, Blake. A dragon responds to confidence, not panic. You’re still on borrowed time.”
Ronnie swallowed hard but said nothing.
When Redfern reached Jim, he paused. “You’ve got instincts, Ashford. But instincts without discipline are useless.” The sergeant’s eyes narrowed. “Your dragon’s carrying you, not following you.”
Jim nodded, accepting the criticism. Redfern was right—Aether had guided their flight more than Jim had. He’d responded to the dragon’s movements rather than directing them.
Redfern continued down the line, offering assessments to each recruit. Some received grudging approval, others withering criticism. By the time he finished, even those who had performed well looked sobered by the experience.
“Dismount and see to your dragons,” Redfern said. “Feeding, watering, scale check. The handlers will supervise, but the work is yours. A dragon rider is responsible for his mount’s well-being.”
The recruits slid from their saddles.
Jim’s thighs burned from gripping the saddle, and his back ached from maintaining proper posture against the buffeting winds. He stroked Aether’s neck as he dismounted, murmuring words of thanks.
The dragon turned his great head, regarding Jim with an unreadable golden gaze.
He bumped his snout against Jim’s shoulder—the closest thing to affection the beast had shown him yet.
“He’s impressed,” said Mitchell, Aether’s handler, as he approached with water buckets. “Didn’t expect you to trust him in the dive.”
“I nearly didn’t,” Jim said, accepting a brush to begin cleaning Aether’s scales. “But it felt right.”
Mitchell nodded. “That’s the beginning of a true bond. Most riders try to force their will on the dragon. The great ones learn to think together.”
As Jim worked, removing dirt, and sweat from Aether’s scales, Ronnie approached, limping from what must have been a painful landing.
“Thanks,” he said. “For the shout. Thought I was done for.”
“Anyone would’ve done the same.”
“No, they wouldn’t have.” Ronnie glanced towards Marcus, who was tending to Shadow with the same precision he did everything else. “Some would’ve been happy to see me wash out. One less competition.”
Jim couldn’t disagree. The dragon corps was highly selective—only the best would advance to combat training. Every failure improved the odds for those remaining.
“How’s Brutus taking it?” Jim asked.
Ronnie grimaced. “Handler says he’s frustrated. Doesn’t like feeling unbalanced.” He lowered his voice. “I’m not sure we’re a good match after all.”
“You’ll get better, mate. First flight’s the hardest.”
By the time they were dismissed to the mess hall for lunch, exhaustion had set in. The combination of physical strain, mental focus, and adrenaline crash left them all stumbling with fatigue.
Jim ate ravenously, his body demanding fuel after the morning’s exertions.
“I feel like I’ve been beaten with a cricket bat,” Ronnie said between mouthfuls of stew. “Every muscle hurts.”
“Gets better,” Wilson said, the veteran recruit showing fewer signs of strain after his own flight. “Your body adapts. After a few weeks, you’ll have flying muscles.”
Jim hoped so. Right now, he wasn’t sure he could climb back into the saddle, let alone control a dragon through combat manoeuvres. Yet there was an undeniable thrill beneath the exhaustion—he had flown. Actually flown on dragonback, something he’d dreamed of since childhood.
The afternoon brought classroom instruction—aerial tactics, weather considerations, emergency procedures.
Jim struggled to stay awake as the instructor droned on about wind patterns and their effect on dragon stamina. His mind kept drifting back to the feeling of Aether’s powerful wings beating beneath him, the rush of wind, the momentary harmony they’d found during the dive.
Evening mess came and went. The recruits were granted three hours of free time—supposedly for rest and writing letters home, though most collapsed onto their bunks, too exhausted to do more than stare at the ceiling.
Jim had just begun a letter to his mother when Redfern entered the barracks.
“At attention!”
The recruits scrambled to their feet, forming a ragged line between the bunks.
Redfern stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable in the dim light. “Midnight drill tonight.”
A collective groan rose from the exhausted recruits, quickly stifled as Redfern’s gaze hardened.
“The enemy won’t send polite invitations for daylight engagements. They strike when you’re tired, when you’re unprepared, when visibility is poor.” He looked from face to face. “Be at the flight line at midnight. Full gear. Anyone late washes out.”
The door closed behind him.
“Bloody hell,” Ronnie whispered. “I can barely stand, let alone fly.”
Jim said nothing, but silently agreed. His arms felt like lead, his back a single knot of pain. The thought of climbing back onto Aether in such condition seemed impossible.
“It’s deliberate,” Wilson said from across the room. “They want to push you past your limits now, in training, so you know you can handle it in combat.”
“Or they want to kill us before the Germans get a chance,” someone muttered.
They tried to rest in the hours before midnight, but true sleep proved elusive with the drill looming. Jim drifted in and out of consciousness, his dreams filled with falling, with dragons spiralling out of control.
At 2330, they dressed in silence, donning flight gear with mechanical movements.
No one spoke as they trudged towards the flight line, each lost in their own thoughts, their own fears.
The night air bit through Jim’s flight suit, unusually cold for summer.
Low clouds obscured the stars, turning the training ground into a landscape of shadows.
Floodlights illuminated the flight line itself, where the dragons waited, their scales gleaming dully in the artificial light.
Aether stood in his usual position, fifth from the left. His golden eyes seemed to glow in the darkness, tracking Jim’s approach. The dragon looked as tired as Jim felt, wings slightly drooped, posture less alert than that morning.
“They pushed the dragons hard today too,” Mitchell said as Jim approached. “Night flying is difficult for everyone. Be extra clear with your commands.”
Jim nodded, patting Aether’s neck before checking the saddle straps. The leather felt cold and stiff under his fingers, less pliable than in daylight.
Redfern appeared, striding towards them with the same energy he’d shown at dawn. Either the man never tired, or he was better at hiding it than anyone Jim had ever met.
“Tonight’s exercise is simple,” Redfern said. “Formation flying, three circuits, standard emergency procedures if visibility drops.” He paused, letting his gaze sweep the line. “And for the love of God, try not to crash into each other. The paperwork is a nightmare.”
No one laughed.
“Mount up.”
Jim approached Aether, movements slower than that morning but more confident. He knew what to expect now. The dragon lowered his shoulder, making the mount easier—a small accommodation that spoke volumes about their developing bond.
Once settled in the saddle, Jim checked his safety harness twice, then ran his hand along Aether’s neck. “Let’s get through this.”
The take-off command came, and they were airborne again.
The sensation was even more disorienting at night, the ground disappearing into blackness as they climbed. Only the floodlights of the base provided reference points, floating like islands in a sea of darkness.
Jim focused entirely on feeling Aether’s movements, relying on the dragon’s superior night vision to navigate. He kept their position in the formation by watching the silhouettes of other dragons against the cloud-reflected light.
The fear was still there, but different now—more focused, more manageable. The unknown aspects of flying had become known, replaced by specific challenges—maintaining formation in low visibility, conserving Aether’s energy through efficient movements, anticipating commands before they came.
Beside him, Ronnie’s posture looked more relaxed, his commands less jerky. Perhaps exhaustion had dampened his overthinking, allowing instinct to take over.
Marcus flew flawlessly. His black dragon was nearly invisible against the night sky, identifiable only by its position in the formation and occasional gleams of light off its scales.
They completed the first circuit without incident, the dragons finding a rhythm despite the challenging conditions. As they began the second, the clouds lowered, tendrils of mist reaching up to envelop the formation.
“Visibility procedures!” Redfern’s voice carried from below. “Double spacing!”
The formation spread out, each dragon maintaining distance from the others to prevent collision in the thickening fog. Jim leaned closer to Aether’s neck, trusting the dragon’s senses more than his own deteriorating vision.
Something flashed in the darkness ahead—a signal lamp from the ground.
Two short, one long.
Jim recalled their briefing: change of elevation. The base was directing them to climb above the cloud layer.
He pressed his knees into Aether’s sides, signalling the need to ascend. The dragon’s powerful wings drove them upward through the greyness.
For disorienting seconds, they were engulfed completely, moisture beading on Jim’s goggles, every reference point lost in the murk.
Then they broke through, emerging into startling clarity.
Above the fog bank, a three-quarter moon illuminated a landscape of cloud tops, rolling away like snow-covered hills.
The other dragons appeared one by one, dark shapes against the silvered clouds.
The beauty of it momentarily stole Jim’s breath. Despite his exhaustion, despite the cold numbing his fingers around the reins, he felt a surge of pure joy.
This was what he had joined for—not just to escape his father’s plans, but for moments like this.
Aether seemed to share the sentiment, his wings spreading wider to catch the clearer air currents, his flight smoothing into an effortless glide.
Jim sensed true harmony between them—dragon and rider moving as one, sharing the sky.
The remainder of the drill passed in a blur of moonlight and shadow. They dived back through the fog bank for the final circuit, relying on signal lamps to guide them home.
The landing was smoother than that morning, Jim having learned to anticipate Aether’s movements better.
As he dismounted, legs trembling with fatigue, Jim caught Redfern watching him.
The sergeant said nothing, but nodded once before moving on.
“Well done,” Mitchell said as he took Aether’s reins. “He’s responding to you better already.”
“It’s still mostly him guiding me,” Jim said.
“As it should be, this early.” Mitchell patted Aether’s neck. “Dragons have been flying for thousands of years. Humans, not so much. Learn from him.”
Jim nodded. “I will.”
