Snowblind Aces
C.E.J. Pacian
airplane conversation cover art eyepatch flight romance snow TADS TADS 3 TIGSource war
Two aces shelter from a snowstorm under the wing of a biplane. They've duelled and played in the air for years. Love is inevitable. But what kind of relationship will they end up in?
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It only takes a moment of inattention. The snowstorm draws thicker and the faint grey silhouette of the reconnaissance plane fades away completely. You bank hard, yanking on the control column with mild panic, but it's too late. Your paths have diverged, unlikely to cross again as long as this lethal weather continues.

The lumbering two-seater plane you were supposed to be escorting is alone and unprotected. And she is out there: lightning fast, deadly accurate and cold as ice. You'd consider turning back to the airbase right away.

If, that is, you even knew where you were.

[Type 'About' if this is your first time playing.
Type 'Credits' to learn who's responsible for this drivel.]

Biplane Cockpit (sitting in the pilot's seat)
You're seated in the cockpit of your Swordfish biplane, exposed to the elements. The small windscreen ahead does little to keep the harsh, icy wind from cutting right through you, and you're surrounded on all sides by blinding white mist.

The plane's control column juts up in front of you.
Examine column
Your Swordfish's trusty joystick features a tempting red button on the top. Pushing or pulling the column will adjust your pitch.

You suppress a shiver.
You pull the joystick
The control column moves loosely, clearly having no effect on the plane's ailerons.

The control column twitches spasmodically.
You check your inventory
You are carrying a revolver, and you're wearing a pair of goggles, a parachute pack, a white scarf, a fur-lined jacket, some breeches, and some sheepskin boots.

The propeller flickers in its motion, struggling to keep turning.
You shoot yourself
You miss.

You glance over your shoulder in time to see something go flying backwards from beneath the plane. Hopefully nothing too important...
Examine column
Your Swordfish's trusty joystick features a tempting red button on the top. Pushing or pulling the column will adjust your pitch.

You glance over your shoulder in time to see something go flying backwards from beneath the plane. Hopefully nothing too important...
You look at the seat
You are sitting in the pilot's seat.

You glance over your shoulder in time to see something go flying backwards from beneath the plane. Hopefully nothing too important...
You stand
You check your parachute and climb up onto your seat. After you throw your leg over the side, it's surprisingly easy to push yourself away from the plane and leap into the mist.

Not quite as aerodynamic as your Swordfish, you drop like a stone, plummeting into the murky white void below. Ice and fog crowd close around you, obscuring every direction. The only reason you know you're falling is because of the way your stomach seems to still be a hundred metres above you somewhere. Remembering the single parachute jump you performed in basic training, you fumble with the chord and yank hard, the harness suddenly seeming to pull you upwards.

You're hanging from a parachute, descending slowly into a blank white void. Without the sound of your plane's engine, everything seems shockingly silent.
You wait for a while
Time passes...

Your plane will have hit the ground by now, shattering into pieces, bursting into flames.
You wait a while
Time passes...

But you're okay. You made it.
You wait awhile
Time passes...

The hard part is over.
You wait
Time passes...

The mist beneath you parts. Below you are thick, evergreen trees, garnished with snow, clinging to sharp black rocks.

Now you have a frame of reference, you realise just how fast you're falling.

You open your eyes. You feel remarkably well given the circumstances. The air is fresh and invigorating, the sound of birdsong and rustling leaves is like soothing music. Time to get moving - for all you know, you might be behind enemy lines.

Forest Clearing (lying on the ground)
Snow-coated evergreen trees surround you on all sides, their roots tangling into rugged black rocks. Snow falls from the bright white sky above.

The canopy of your parachute is suspended in the branches of a tree, like a giant, tattered spider's web.
You remove the chute
You just cheated death. If you wanted to commit suicide, you missed your chance.

The mist beneath you parts. Below you are thick, evergreen trees, garnished with snow, clinging to sharp black rocks.

Now you have a frame of reference, you realise just how fast you're falling.

You open your eyes. You feel remarkably well given the circumstances. The air is fresh and invigorating, the sound of birdsong and rustling leaves is like soothing music. Time to get moving - for all you know, you might be behind enemy lines.

Forest Clearing (lying on the ground)
Snow-coated evergreen trees surround you on all sides, their roots tangling into rugged black rocks. Snow falls from the bright white sky above.

The canopy of your parachute is suspended in the branches of a tree, like a giant, tattered spider's web.
You get the chute
You are already carrying the parachute pack.
You check your inventory
You are carrying a revolver, and you're wearing a pair of goggles, a parachute pack, a white scarf, a fur-lined jacket, some breeches, and some sheepskin boots.

An icy breeze passes through the clearing, the soft rustling of leaves following in its wake.
You examine the trees
The trees seem unperturbed by the cold. You envy them.
Describe the surroundings
Forest Clearing (lying on the ground)
Snow-coated evergreen trees surround you on all sides, their roots tangling into rugged black rocks. Snow falls from the bright white sky above.

The canopy of your parachute is suspended in the branches of a tree, like a giant, tattered spider's web.

A bird chirrups melodically.
You stand
You sit up, feeling a lot weaker than you thought you were. As you start to shift your legs, something inside your left calf moves. White lightning bolts of pain jolt across your vision and you collapse back with a scream of pain.

You've broken your leg. You're lying in the freezing snow, and you're not going anywhere.
You examine the tree
The trees seem unperturbed by the cold. You envy them.

You hear something rustling among the trees.
You examine the leg
It doesn't look like that would achieve much.

A feral icekin blunders into the clearing, looking around with its empty black eyes. Probably attracted by your scream of pain. Nice going, Lucas.

Your left leg looks normal enough, but something feels very wrong inside it. The slightest movement is agony.

The icekin looks around, breathing heavily through its sharp, uneven teeth.
You listen
You hear the icekin's rasping breaths.

The icekin fixes its lifeless black eyes on you, emitting a low growl.
You look at the icekin
A lumbering, bipedal creature, its shaggy white coat stained with blood. It clutches a long, rusted blade.

The icekin lumbers towards you.
You shoot the icekin
You level your revolver at the icekin and squeeze the trigger. It grunts, and takes a few shuffling steps towards you, as if it hasn't even noticed what's happened.

After the third step, blood begins to drip from its mouth, and it collapses face-down into the snow.

A dark figure strides into the clearing, a flare gun in her hand. She slips it into her belt and rests a hand on her hip, surveying you with her one good eye. "I heard a scream," she says wryly, "But it seems you can handle yourself." She looks disapprovingly at your gun."You don't need to point that thing at me, Lucas. They pay us to shoot planes and we're both grounded after our little airborne contretemps, aren't we?"

You smile in spite of the pain. "The Scarlet Baroness."

She allows herself a carnivorous grin. "Yes. The two great aces, face to face at last."

(You could tell her it feels like you already know her, or play it cool.)
You look at Baroness
The Scarlet Baroness is a tall, imposing woman with long, fiery red hair and an eyepatch. She's clad in black leather and a thick fur coat. You have her full attention.

An awkward silence hangs between the two of you.
You tell her it feels like i already know her
"Yes," you say. "It doesn't feel like an introduction. You and I, we know one another better than many friends. Than many lovers, even."

"Exactly," she says with a crooked grin. "I know I've consumed every snippet of information that might give me an advantage over you, I've learnt your flying style, your weaknesses and quirks. I expect no less from you. And we're certainly dance partners of the most intimate kind. There's no-one else I'd be happier to have shoot me out of the sky."

Your eyes meet. Her's is icy green, studying you in a way you find difficult to fathom - catlike, perhaps, or aloof.

"Imelda," she says suddenly. "Maybe you just know me as the Scarlet Baroness, but my name's Imelda von Strassenbach."

"Come on," she adds, "I think it's going to really get snowing soon.
We need to get to shelter."
You describe your surroundings
Forest Clearing (lying on the ground)
Snow-coated evergreen trees surround you on all sides, their roots tangling into rugged black rocks. Snow falls from the bright white sky above.

The canopy of your parachute is suspended in the branches of a tree, like a giant, tattered spider's web.

A dead icekin lies in the snow, steam rising from its pooling blood.

Imelda watches you intently.

Imelda looks down at your leg. "Are you okay? Can you walk?"

"I think it's broken."

She kneels down by your side. "Let me take a look."

"Be sure to look twice as long," you advise her, "since you just have the one eye."

She purses her lips. "You're right. I'll do that."

"Ow!"

"Yeah, it's broken alright."

"Thanks, doctor."

"I'll have to see about making a splint. And then I guess you'll have to lean on me, if you don't mind."

"Anything to help you feel useful."

Downed Triplane (lying on the ground)
A scarlet triplane lies half-buried in the snow, leaning to one side. You're huddled beneath its slanting wing, mostly sheltered from the freezing wind and falling snow.

Imelda is huddled close by your side.

"It's getting dark," Imelda says. "We'll have to stay here at least for tonight, and then move on tomorrow morning if the weather lets up."
About yourself
You're Lucas Thane: daredevil fighter ace, knight of the air.

"By the way," Imelda says, "why exactly did you feel the need to fly into me?"

"That's funny," you reply. "I thought that you were the one who flew into me."

The triplane rocks slightly in the wind.
Kiss imelda
You're not about to kiss the enemy without at least a hint that she'd like you to.

Imelda sighs, her breath hanging in front of her like a delicate cloud.
You ask Imelda about the splint
You meet Imelda's eye and she looks at you expectantly.

You chat briefly with Imelda, but find out nothing important.
You ask Imelda about the leg
"Is my leg going to be okay, do you think?"

Imelda affects nervousness. "Well, I was trying not to let you know, but I think it's going to be fatal. If you have any last minute confessions of love to tell to someone, you should probably do it sooner rather than later."

You shrug. "No, nothing like that."

She folds her arms. "Oh. I see."

Your breath leaves little clouds in the air.
You ask Imelda about the love
You clear your throat. "So, Imelda, how are things with the men in your life?"

"Do you mean my male friends among the Sky Mercenaries? Or are you sneakily trying to ask about us?"

Snow continues to drift down from above.
You ask Imelda about us
"Imelda, about us..."

She looks down at her feet. "What about us?"

"Well, what's your take on it? Why do we keep circling around one another? In the air or otherwise."

Still without looking at you, she says, "I can't really remember how we first met, except that I suddenly realised this plane from the 5th Imperial Air Squadron kept seeking me out to duel with me, probably because I'm an obvious target in my scarlet plane. I usually brought down every enemy plane I came across, but you always managed to escape. I only shot you down that once. I started to research you, found out who you were, started to learn your flying style, had a chance to kill you, but didn't take it, and then flew into you in the middle of a snowstorm. And now here we are."

There's a pause, and then she adds, "But that's not what you asked, really, is it? That's just the story of us - I didn't mention my feelings at all." She smiles apologetically.

A chill wind passes under the wing, making you both shiver.
You ask Imelda about the feelings
"So what are your feelings for me?"

Imelda remains strangely silent, just looks at you with an ambiguous expression. If you want to press the matter, perhaps you should tell her about your feelings.
You tell Imelda about your feelings
You cough. "Imelda, I just wanted to say that..."

(You could tell her you're in love with her, or tell her she's like your best friend.)
You tell Imelda about the feelings
You cough. "Imelda, I just wanted to say that..."
You tell Imelda about the love
You chat briefly with Imelda, but find out nothing important.

You rub your hands together to try to keep them warm.
You tell Imelda you're in the love
The story doesn't understand that command. Please use ASK ACTOR ABOUT TOPIC (or just A TOPIC).

"By the way," Imelda says, "you're not really dying."

"I know," you reply.

"Just thought I'd check."

A chill wind passes under the wing, making you both shiver.
You tell Imelda you're in the love with her
The story doesn't understand that command. Please use ASK ACTOR ABOUT TOPIC (or just A TOPIC).
You ask Imelda about the love
You clear your throat. "So, Imelda, how are things with the men in your life?"

"Do you mean my male friends among the Sky Mercenaries? Or are you sneakily trying to ask about us?"
You tell Imelda about your feelings
You cough. "Imelda, I just wanted to say that..."

The triplane rocks slightly in the wind.

(You could tell her you're in love with her, or tell her she's like your best friend.)
You tell Imelda you're in love with her
The story doesn't understand that command. Please use ASK ACTOR ABOUT TOPIC (or just A TOPIC).

You rub your hands together to try to keep them warm.
You ask Imelda about the icekin
"You know, I'd never seen an icekin up close before today."

Imelda laughs. "Count yourself lucky. Icekin come in all shapes and sizes, but they all have pointy teeth and empty stomachs. Just be glad this was a feral with a blunt knife. It'd gut you and eat you, and that's it. The Ice Queen's trained icekin soldiers, on the other hand, now you really don't want them to take you prisoner."

Your breath leaves little clouds in the air.
You tell Imelda about the feelings
You cough. "Imelda, I just wanted to say that..."

(You could tell her you're in love with her, or tell her she's like your best friend.)
You tell her you're in the love with her
You decide to just say it. You don't even look at her. "Imelda, I'm in love with you."

She refrains from looking at you either. "I'm in love with you too," she states, matter-of-factly. "It makes perfect sense, I think. We're young, we're forced to deal with one another repeatedly in intense, passionate, but graceful and playful circumstances, we understand the stresses, the fears we each experience, we both love flying... and so we grow attracted to one another."

The two of you lean closer as she speaks, your lips brushing together. "My lips are numb," you complain.

She shushes you. "Let me warm them up."

After a while, you lean back, faces flushed, sitting perhaps a little closer than before.

Imelda straightens her hair and exhales slowly. "That was almost as satisfying as shooting you down."
Kiss imelda
You lean over to Imelda and kiss her on the lips. She kisses you back, forcefully.
Inventory
You are carrying a revolver, and you're wearing a pair of goggles, a white scarf, a fur-lined jacket, some breeches, some sheepskin boots, and a makeshift splint.
You remove the jacket
The risk of hypothermia is too great.
You remove breeches
It's extremely cold. You don't really have much to show off right now.
You screw imelda
You see no way to screw Imelda.

Imelda's attention drifts away from you.
Shoot jacket
It doesn't look like that would achieve much.

Imelda meets your eye briefly.
You ask Imelda about the eyepatch
You meet Imelda's eye and she looks at you expectantly.

You meet Imelda's single eye. "Um..." you say, "so how did you...?"

"How did I what, Lucas?" she replies innocently.

You clear your throat. "You know... the eye patch..."

"What about it, Lucas?"

"Well, I was just wondering what happened to your eye."

"I was shot," she says simply. "It's an occupational hazard when you're around planes with machineguns strapped to them."

"Yes, I've noticed."
You ask Imelda about the ice queen
"So, as the Ice Queen's pet fighter pilot I bet you've had tea with her and everything?"

Imelda raises her chin. "She did personally present a medal to me.
Her hands were really cold... But I'm hardly her pet. The Sky Mercenaries always retain full autonomy. We're merely under contract to her and the Northern Territories."
You ask Imelda about Sky Mercenaries
"What exactly are you Sky Pirates all about then?"

Imelda looks at you with her good eye and sighs theatrically.

"Sky Mercenaries," you correct yourself, "whatever."

"We're the children of Aerocity, born in the skies, at home there, understanding wind, gravity and inertia the way most people understand walking."

"You're not afraid of heights then?"

She smiles. "No, Lucas, not really." After a moment she adds, "Look, I know we get a bad rap in the southern newspapers, but we're people just like anyone else. I couldn't wish for better friends than those I have on the zeppelin."
You ask Imelda about the predicament
"This is quite a situation we're in," you say.

"Yep," Imelda agrees.

"Any idea what to do?"

Imelda tips her head to one side. "Maybe."

"Care to share?"

"Well, as I see it, we have two main problems. We need to get to safety tomorrow, and we need to keep warm."

Snow continues to drift down from above.
You ask Imelda about the zeppelin
"So you guys are based on a zeppelin?" you ask Imelda.

"Of course," she says smugly. "There's no quicker way to get your planes in the air than to have them in the air already."
You get the eyepatch
Taken.
You ask Imelda about the safety
"I was thinking," you tell Imelda.

"Did it hurt?" she asks.

"A little. Mostly it was just an unfamiliar sensation. What I was thinking was that we should head south from here. We'll probably reach the Imperial lines in no time. After that, a hot bath, some steaming soup..."

Imelda seems unconvinced. "Or we could head north. We'll probably reach the Northern lines in no time, after which etcetera, etcetera."

"Hang on," you say, "Weren't you telling me I didn't ever want to end up a prisoner of the Ice Queen's icekin soldiers?"

"You won't be a prisoner of the icekin soldiers. You'll be my prisoner."

"Sounds a bit kinky for my tastes."

Imelda smiles slyly. "You have no idea."

"Maybe we should just split up," you suggest. "I bet we could both make it by ourselves. Then no-one has to be anyone's prisoner."

Imelda shrugs. "Look, I'm heading north. I'd love it if you'd come with me, but..."

(You could agree to go north with her, ask her to go south with you, tell her you should split up, or tell her you can't decide.)
You wear the eyepatch
Okay, you're now wearing the eye patch.

You rub your hands together to try to keep them warm.
You ask Imelda about Ice Queen
"So, as the Ice Queen's pet fighter pilot I bet you've had tea with her and everything?"

Imelda raises her chin. "She did personally present a medal to me.
Her hands were really cold... But I'm hardly her pet. The Sky Mercenaries always retain full autonomy. We're merely under contract to her and the Northern Territories."
You ask Imelda about keeping warm
"I've got an idea to keep us warm," you tell Imelda.

She takes a break from breathing into her hands. "Sounds great to me. What is it?"

(You could suggest thinking warm thoughts, suggest sharing body heat, or suggest making a fire.)
You suggest thinking the warm thoughts
"Well," you begin uncertainly, "we could think warm thoughts."

Imelda offers you a very condescending look. "So even as our bodies freeze to death, we'll be warm in our minds?"

"Exactly. We just need to picture ourselves sitting in front of a roaring fire, or lying on a sunny beach, or... uh, inside the stomach of a feral icekin..."

Imelda pats you on your unbroken leg. "It's a good thing you have looks," is all she says.
You suggest sharing body heat
"I was just thinking how we're both so cold, and yet we're both full of red hot blood..."

Imelda raises an eyebrow. "Cannibalism?"

You grimace. "Hugging?"

Imelda smiles evilly. "Oh, I see. Can't bear to keep your hands to yourself for much longer?"

"It would take an iron will."

She slips her arms around your waist and presses herself against you. "Still, it's a small price to pay to avoid freezing to death."

You wrap your arms around her in turn. "Yes," you say austerely, "we must be brave."
You ask Imelda about keeping warm
"I've got an idea to keep us warm," you tell Imelda.

She takes a break from breathing into her hands. "Sounds great to me. What is it?"

The triplane rocks slightly in the wind.

(You could suggest thinking warm thoughts, suggest sharing body heat, or suggest making a fire.)
You ask Imelda to go south
Imelda refuses your request.
You ask Imelda about the safety
"About where we're headed..." you begin.

"Have you reached a decision yet?" Imelda asks you.

(You could agree to go north with her, ask her to go south with you, tell her you should split up, or tell her you can't decide.)
Agree to go north
"Okay," you say. "I'll go north with you."
You tell the imedla about the empire
Imelda squeezes you around the waist. "I'm glad. And... I know what a sacrifice this must be for you. Thank you."

The word "imedla" is not necessary in this story.
You ask Imelda about newspapers
"Have you read any newspapers recently?" you ask Imelda.

"You mean like the Northern Financial Times?"

"I mean like the Weekly Mirror or the Mail News."

"I thought as much. A shocking amount of those papers is about us, isn't it? According to one, I'm irresponsible for continuing to fly into combat while blatantly pregnant with your love child."

"I wonder what they'd make of all this..." You wave your hand around at your cosy little love nest in the freezing snow.

"If we don't make it," Imelda says, "they'll turn it into our lovers' suicide pact."

"Headline: They couldn't bring themselves to fight any more!"
Look around
Downed Triplane (lying on the ground)
A scarlet triplane lies half-buried in the snow, leaning to one side. You're huddled beneath its slanting wing, mostly sheltered from the freezing wind and falling snow.

Imelda is huddled close by your side, watching you intently.

A chill wind passes under the wing, making you both shiver.
You ask Imelda about the safety
"About where we're headed..." you begin.

"Have you changed your mind?" Imelda asks you. "We were both going to head north."

(You could ask her to go south with you, tell her you should split up, or tell her you haven't changed your mind.)
You ask Imelda about the Aerocity
"I've heard of Aerocity, but I'm not sure I believe in it. It's supposed to be a city suspended from balloons?"

Imelda bursts out with laughter. It's nice to see her be so familiar with you, but you can't help but feel a bit embarrassed. "That's a good one, I'll have to remember that. No, Lucas, Aerocity is not a city suspended from balloons, but it is high up in a mountain range. We're quite familiar with the concept of falling, and our efforts to avoid it have made us the best in the world at flying."
You go to the north
The slanting triplane wing is in the way.

Imelda laughs suddenly. "A city suspended from balloons. That's brilliant."
You look at the plane
A plane with three wings, one on top of the other. Bit extravagant, really.
You ask Imelda about northern Territories
You look around at the thick snowfall. "The climate's nice in the Northern Territories this year."

"I guess this is why they call her the Ice Queen."
You ask Imelda about herself
"So..." you begin, "why not tell me a little about yourself, Imelda?"

Imelda looks thoughtful. "I suppose... it's a bit of a broad topic. Tell you what, why don't we start with you telling me about myself."

"You want me to tell you about yourself?" you repeat. "Don't you already know yourself quite well?"

"I'm interested to know what you think of me. Come on, tell me."
You tell Imelda about herself
You take a deep breath. "Okay. You're the notorious ace Sky Mercenary known as the Scarlet Baroness, real name Imelda von Strassa- von Strassenba-"

"Von Strassenbach."

"Who's telling this story? Imelda von Strassenbach. A fiery redhead with an ice cold temperament."

"More than my temperament is ice cold at the moment."

"You've racked up over seventy confirmed kills-"

"Seventy-six."

"You're an outstanding pilot, who can best even the most elite southern pilots, and you're hopelessly in love, according to the scandal sheets, with one Lucas Thane, the Benevolent Empire's ace of aces."

Imelda seems happy with your little report. "Is that so," she purrs. "Although: hopelessly in love, pursuing in a predatory fashion... it's a thin line, I think."
You ask Imelda about benevolent Empire
"You're surely a fan of the Benevolent Empire and its attempts to civilise the world?"

Imelda scoffs. "It's hard to consider an empire benevolent when it thinks that rearranging the world to suit its own economic needs is 'civilising' it."

"You don't think the people of the Northern Territories would benefit from giving us all their noxious petroleum?"

"I think they've benefited best by giving it to us Sky Mercenaries."
You ask Imelda about yourself
"Do you know much about me?" you ask Imelda.

"All the important stuff," she says. "Your flying style, your weaknesses."

You study her carefully. "My weaknesses?"

"You always underestimate your ability to fly in a crosswind, you're too afraid of stalling, and you've balked at two separate opportunities to shoot me down because the bullets would probably have passed through my body."

"I see."

Snow continues to drift down from above.
You ask Imelda about keeping warm
"I've got an idea to keep us warm," you tell Imelda.

She takes a break from breathing into her hands. "Sounds great to me. What is it?"

(You could suggest thinking warm thoughts, suggest sharing body heat, or suggest making a fire.)
You suggest making a the fire
You look around. "I think we could build a fire. If we put it right there it should be close enough to warm us up, but the wind will blow the smoke away from us."

Imelda crawls out from under the wing and stands up, snow crunching beneath her feet. "Okay, I'll go find some wood, or anything else that looks like it'll burn. Give me your gun. I'd hate to have to face down a feral icekin with nothing but a couple of pine branches."

"Don't you still have that flare gun?" you ask her.

"Yeah, but I'd rather save its one shot for summoning help. Come on, hand it over."

(You could agree, or politely refuse.)
You ask Imelda for the flare gun
"We can talk after I get back," Imelda says. "In the meantime, just tell me: are you going to give me your gun?"
You tell her you can do better
You shift your broken leg so that you can grab a couple of sticks from the pile. "I think the Boy Scouts need to take over here," you tell Imelda.

She gives you a very doubtful look. "Excuse me? The Sky Guides are more than capable of rubbing two sticks together. Unless you can think of a way an all-male group might have gained extra practice in that regard?"

"Clearly you don't have enough confidence in your abilities to just get on with it."

"I'm just trying to get you to save your energy."

You both tend to the sticks in intense silence from then on. But the fire doesn't suddenly spark to life, it forms slowly from a wisp of smoke, and it's hard to tell which of you is more responsible for it. When it's crackling away nicely, you both sit back, shoulder-to-shoulder.

"I told you to save your energy," Imelda says. "That was clearly my spark that lit it."

You shake your head. "My sparks were much more vibrant. You could tell they had the Lucas Thane never-give-up attitude."

"Fine, keep lying to yourself. We both know the truth."

"I agree that one of us is in denial, but I don't think it's me."

Imelda holds out her hands to the fire. "It's nice that we got it done, though."

You hold out your own hands. "I don't dispute that."
You ask Imelda about the newspaper
"Have you read any newspapers recently?" you ask Imelda.

"You mean like the Northern Financial Times?"

"I mean like the Weekly Mirror or the Mail News."

"I thought as much. A shocking amount of those papers is about us, isn't it? According to one, I'm irresponsible for continuing to fly into combat while blatantly pregnant with your love child."

"I wonder what they'd make of all this..." You wave your hand around at your cosy little love nest in the freezing snow.

"If we don't make it," Imelda says, "they'll turn it into our lovers' suicide pact."

"Headline: They couldn't bring themselves to fight any more!"
You ask Imelda about northern Territories
You look around at the thick snowfall. "The climate's nice in the Northern Territories this year."

"I guess this is why they call her the Ice Queen."
You ask Imelda about the hair
"Your hair is the most striking colour," you tell Imelda.

She runs her fingers through her curls. "Thank you."

"Is it natural?"

She suddenly glares at you. "You might maintain the most fleeting hope of one day finding out for sure."
You ask her about the the chance to kill yourself
"That one time you came out of the sun..." you begin. "It was perfect. You had me."

"Yes," Imelda says. "I had you. Not just your plane, but you. I couldn't take the shot. You've done the same yourself."

You lightly touch her arm. "Well, we're the only ones who know."
You ask Imelda about the kill count
"What was that number again?"

"I've downed seventy six aircraft," she says.

You sniff. "A lot of balloons and two-seaters, though..."
You hug her
You wrap your arms around Imelda and squeeze her tightly.

"Why Lucas," she says wryly, hugging you back, "you must contain your obvious desire for me."

"I'm just trying to keep warm," you reply.

"Yes, keep telling yourself that."
You ask Imelda about the ace of Aces
You look around the snowy environs. "It's interesting when you think about it... here we both are, two aces of aces..."

"Aces of aces? There's the ace of aces, which is myself. And then there are a few regional titles like southern ace of aces, like this fellow who's all looks and no brains. You'd like him. But it's not really a concept that makes sense when you pluralise it."

"Sure it does," you insist. "There's room for more than one at the top."

"Not much room. It'd be pretty cramped."

"You have some sort of objection to being physically close to me?"

She reaches over to toussle your hair. "Only in the abstract."
Sleep
You let your head rest on Imelda's shoulder, and sleep descends like a dark blanket.

The night is cold, and the two of you cling to one another for warmth, but the snow has finally stopped falling and the fire burns until morning.

Then the two of you struggle to your feet, Imelda just contending with aches and cramps while you have to worry about your broken leg.
Looking around at the pristine forest, everything covered in thick sheets of snow, you begin to make your way north, Imelda encouraging you to lean on her as much as you can. Eventually, the bright scarlet wingtip of her triplane has disappeared from view.

Not long after that...

You sit by the window, looking down on the clouds, feeling the throbbing of the zeppelin's engine. The door opens and Imelda enters.

"Is this a conjugal visit?" you ask her.

She looks puzzled. "Have I ever made any other kind of visit?"

She walks across your improbably luxurious cabin - not that you're allowed to leave it - and sits on the window sill next to you.

"Are you okay?" she asks. "I thought they'd be a little more lenient with you, but it seems you're going to be in here til the war ends."

You shrug. "The view's nice. The company's great. I've caught up on my reading."

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable lying on the bed?" she asks.

You look at her with mock naivety. "Why do you ask?"

Years later...

Imelda rolls off of you and sparks up a cigarette, the sheets around her hips. You study her silhouette in the twilight.

"The air race tomorrow," she says.

"Everyone will be there," you say proudly. "Everyone wants to see the world's most famous aces competing against one another."

She takes a deep drag and lets the smoke curl slowly from her lips before speaking. "I just want to make sure you know I won't hold back, just because it's you."

You laugh. "You're not going to get a chance to. You'll have to be flat out just to be able to spot me on the horizon."

She holds out her hand and you take it. "May the best woman win," she says.

"May she come second, after me," you counter.

There's a moment's pause. The quiet sounds of evening drift in through an open window.

"Lucas..." Imelda takes a deep breath. "There's something I need to ask you. After the race, what... what's going to happen?"

"Easy," you say. "I go where you go. As always."

She smiles. "That's going to be difficult. I'll be going where you're going. We'll be chasing one another in circles."

"Like dogfighting all over again."

She kisses the corner of your mouth. "I love you."

You kiss her back, passionately. "I love you too."

Many years later...

The champagne cork pops explosively and you both jump.

"Careful," Imelda says, "you'll have someone's eye out."

You pour out two glasses. "Yes, you have to be careful in that regard."

"Thank you," Imelda says, taking a glass and bringing it to her lips.

"Hold on, we haven't had a toast yet."

"That's easy," she says, raising her glass. "To us. And another twenty years of fucking, flying and friendship."

"To the three 'F's," you agree, tapping your glass against hers.

"The three 'F's."

You take a deep breath of mountain air. The precarious buildings of Aerocity surround you, glistening with frost. "It's quite a view," you say, looking across the world from up high.

"As good as flying," Imelda says. "Almost as good as love."

You lean together and kiss, the setting sun glinting on snow-topped mountains.
Xyzzy
The word "xyzzy" is not necessary in this story. Honest.

You suppress a shiver.

(If you'd prefer not to be notified about score changes in the future, type NOTIFY OFF.)
Sleep
Paragon of irresponsibility, you decide to rest your weary eyes while at the controls of your plane. You never find out just what it was that you hit in mid-air, in the midst of this intense snowstorm, but by the time you hit the ground you're wide awake.
Sleep
That isn't one of the options.

Would you like to RESTORE a saved position, RESTART the story, UNDO the last move, see your FULL SCORE, or QUIT?
Xyzzy
The word "xyzzy" is not necessary in this story. Honest.

The propeller catches and restarts.
You remove the parachute
Not that you expect to bail out, but you never know...

The engine judders briefly.
Inventory
You are carrying a revolver, and you're wearing a pair of goggles, a parachute pack, a white scarf, a fur-lined jacket, some breeches, and some sheepskin boots.

The engine wheezes mechanically.
You remove the breeches
It's extremely cold. You don't really have much to show off right now.

A strong gust of wind rocks the plane.
You eat them
Lucas not chew on pants. Lucas officer and gentleman, not hungry orc.
You look at the goggles
The goggles allow you to keep your eyes open when travelling at high speed through subzero skies.

You feel the buffeting of the wind against your plane subtly changing its heading.
You jump
You're not going to abandon a perfectly good plane in mid-air!

A faint shadow flickers in the corner of your eye, but when you look, there's nothing in that direction but mist.
You look around
Biplane Cockpit (sitting in the pilot's seat)
You're seated in the cockpit of your Swordfish biplane, exposed to the elements. The small windscreen ahead does little to keep the harsh, icy wind from cutting right through you, and you're surrounded on all sides by blinding white mist.

The plane's control column juts up in front of you.

The engine stalls for a second before lurching back to life, something loose and metallic grating inside it.
You pull the stick
The control column moves loosely, clearly having no effect on the plane's ailerons.

The control column twitches spasmodically.
Wait
Time passes...

You feel the plane's nose dropping as your airspeed slows.

Time passes...

Your altimeter reads 200m. You should seriously consider bailing out.

Time passes...

Your altimeter reads 100m. You should seriously consider bailing out.

Time passes...

The mists below part, and you see the ground for the first time in hours, sharp black rocks breaking through the snow. Thankfully, you don't even feel it when you hit.
Xyzzy
The word "xyzzy" is not necessary in this story. Honest.

Your plane will have hit the ground by now, shattering into pieces, bursting into flames.
You shoot yourself
You miss.

But you're okay. You made it.
Sleep
You don't think it would be a good idea to sleep right now.

Your plane will have hit the ground by now, shattering into pieces, bursting into flames.
You jump
Just as soon as you're standing on the ground.

But you're okay. You made it.
You shoot yourself
You miss.

The hard part is over.
Canopy
The parachute canopy is too far away.

The mist beneath you parts. Below you are thick, evergreen trees, garnished with snow, clinging to sharp black rocks.

Now you have a frame of reference, you realise just how fast you're falling.

You open your eyes. You feel remarkably well given the circumstances. The air is fresh and invigorating, the sound of birdsong and rustling leaves is like soothing music. Time to get moving - for all you know, you might be behind enemy lines.

Forest Clearing (lying on the ground)
Snow-coated evergreen trees surround you on all sides, their roots tangling into rugged black rocks. Snow falls from the bright white sky above.

The canopy of your parachute is suspended in the branches of a tree, like a giant, tattered spider's web.
Examine pack
A bulky backpack that will let you descend gracefully to the ground.

A bird chirrups melodically.
You search it
There's nothing unusual in the parachute pack.

You hear snow crunching nearby. Probably nothing.
You open it
That is not something you can open.

An icy breeze passes through the clearing, the soft rustling of leaves following in its wake.
You remove it
Okay, you're no longer wearing the parachute pack.

You hear snow crunching nearby. Probably nothing.
About yourself
You're Lucas Thane: daredevil fighter ace, knight of the air.

An icy breeze passes through the clearing, the soft rustling of leaves following in its wake.
You look at leg
Yep, one functional left leg. Good for standing on and walking with.
You jump
Just as soon as you're standing on the ground.
You stand
You sit up, feeling a lot weaker than you thought you were. As you start to shift your legs, something inside your left calf moves. White lightning bolts of pain jolt across your vision and you collapse back with a scream of pain.

You've broken your leg. You're lying in the freezing snow, and you're not going anywhere.
You look at the pack
A worthless piece of crap that couldn't slow down a feather in an updraft.

You hear something rustling among the trees.
You shoot yourself
You miss.

A feral icekin blunders into the clearing, looking around with its empty black eyes. Probably attracted by your scream of pain. Nice going, Lucas.
Wait
Time passes...

The icekin looks around, breathing heavily through its sharp, uneven teeth.

Time passes...

The icekin fixes its lifeless black eyes on you, emitting a low growl.

Time passes...

The icekin lumbers towards you.
You wait awhile
Time passes...

The icekin raises its furry white paw. The jagged edge of the rusty blade is brought into sharp relief against the white mists above.
You wait a while
Time passes...

A loud report shatters the quiet, resounding through the forest.
Flocks of black birds rise in flurries from the trees. The icekin sways slightly on the spot, its blank expression shifting to one of vague confusion. And then it slumps to the ground, almost as if falling suddenly asleep.

A dark figure strides into the clearing, a smoking flare gun in her hand. She lets it fall to the snow and rests a hand on her hip, surveying you with her one good eye. "So," she says. "It's you. I imagine your plane fared as badly as mine."

You smile in spite of the pain. "And it's you. Aiding and abetting the enemy. What a poor example of patriotism."

"I'm a mercenary, Lucas, and you're not really one to talk yourself, are you?" She pauses and sighs. "After all this time," she says softly, "here we are. Face to face on the ground. It's..." She trails off.

(You could tell her it feels like you already know her, or play it cool.)
You shoot imelda
You could never! Well, if you were both in planes, certainly. Quite frequently in fact. But not face to face!

An awkward silence hangs between the two of you.
You play it cool
You offer her a cordial smiles. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Baroness."

She laughs. "Imelda. Just call me Imelda. Come on, we need to get to shelter."
You ask Imelda about the shelter
Imelda looks around apprehensively. "Actually, I think we should get moving rather than hang around chatting. The snowfall's getting thicker all the time."

"I'm not going anywhere," you say. "I think my leg's broken."

She kneels down by your side. "Let me take a look."

"Be sure to look twice as long," you advise her, "since you just have the one eye."

She purses her lips. "You're right. I'll do that."

"Ow!"

"Yeah, it's broken alright."

"Thanks, doctor."

"I'll have to see about making a splint. And then I guess you'll have to lean on me, if you don't mind."

"Anything to help you feel useful."

Downed Triplane (lying on the ground)
A scarlet triplane lies half-buried in the snow, leaning to one side. You're huddled beneath its slanting wing, mostly sheltered from the freezing wind and falling snow.

Imelda is huddled close by your side.

"It's getting dark," Imelda says. "We'll have to stay here at least for tonight, and then move on tomorrow morning if the weather lets up."
You ask Imelda about the fire
You meet Imelda's eye and she looks at you expectantly.

You chat briefly with Imelda, but find out nothing important.

Your breath leaves little clouds in the air.
You ask Imelda about the warmth
You chat briefly with Imelda, but find out nothing important.

You rub your hands together to try to keep them warm.
You ask Imelda about Imelda
"So..." you begin, "why not tell me a little about yourself, Imelda?"

Imelda looks thoughtful. "I suppose... it's a bit of a broad topic. Tell you what, why don't we start with you telling me about myself."

"You want me to tell you about yourself?" you repeat. "Don't you already know yourself quite well?"

"I'm interested to know what you think of me. Come on, tell me."
You ask Imelda about the thunderbolt
You look over your shoulder at the fuselage of Imelda's plane. "So, you think you're too good for just two wings, then?"

"Rate of climb," she says assuredly. "Gaining and losing height will win and lose dogfights for you. Three wings give you the capability to climb at an incredible rate. And when you roll, that translates to maneuvrability in any direction. I know there's pilots who like durability or speed, but to me, nothing beats being able to turn to constantly keep your guns on an opponent, especially if they're also struggling to keep their nose up."

You make an ambiguous noise. "Sounds like it might be alright for some, I suppose."

Imelda looks at you, fixedly. "After the war, I'll put you in the pilot's seat of one of these things, and you'll see just what I mean."
You ask Imelda about Swordfish
"I hear the Swordfish has a pretty good reputation on the other side of the lines."

Imelda suppresses a smile. "It kick-started development of the Thunderbolt triplane, I'll give it credit for that."
You ask Imelda about the predicament
"This is quite a situation we're in," you say.

"Yep," Imelda agrees.

"Any idea what to do?"

Imelda tips her head to one side. "Maybe."

"Care to share?"

"Well, as I see it, we have two main problems. We need to get to safety tomorrow, and we need to keep warm."
You ask Imelda about safety
"I was thinking," you tell Imelda.

"Did it hurt?" she asks.

"A little. Mostly it was just an unfamiliar sensation. What I was thinking was that we should head south from here. We'll probably reach the Imperial lines in no time. After that, a hot bath, some steaming soup..."

Imelda seems unconvinced. "Or we could head north. We'll probably reach the Northern lines in no time, after which etcetera, etcetera."

You draw a breath through your teeth. "I'm not sure I want to end up a prisoner of those icekin soldiers."

"You won't be a prisoner of the icekin soldiers. You'll be my prisoner."

"Sounds a bit kinky for my tastes."

Imelda smiles slyly. "You have no idea."

"Maybe we should just split up," you suggest. "I bet we could both make it by ourselves. Then no-one has to be anyone's prisoner."

Imelda bites her lip. "I think we should stay together. At the least you need someone to lean on. If you aggravate your broken leg you might end up severing an artery or something..."

(You could agree to go north with her, ask her to go south with you, tell her you should split up, or tell her you can't decide.)
You ask Imelda to go south
Imelda refuses your request.

Snow continues to drift down from above.
You ask Imelda about benevolent Empire
"You're surely a fan of the Benevolent Empire and its attempts to civilise the world?"

Imelda scoffs. "It's hard to consider an empire benevolent when it thinks that rearranging the world to suit its own economic needs is 'civilising' it."

"You don't think the people of the Northern Territories would benefit from giving us all their noxious petroleum?"

"I think they've benefited best by giving it to us Sky Mercenaries."

A chill wind passes under the wing, making you both shiver.
You ask Imelda about benevolent Empire
"You're surely a fan of the Benevolent Empire and its attempts to civilise the world?"

Imelda scoffs. "It's hard to consider an empire benevolent when it thinks that rearranging the world to suit its own economic needs is 'civilising' it."

"You don't think the people of the Northern Territories would benefit from giving us all their noxious petroleum?"

"I think they've benefited best by giving it to us Sky Mercenaries."
You tell her we should split up
The story doesn't understand that command. Please use ASK ACTOR ABOUT TOPIC (or just A TOPIC).

"By the way," Imelda says, "why exactly did you feel the need to fly into me?"

"That's funny," you reply. "I thought that you were the one who flew into me."

The triplane rocks slightly in the wind.
You ask Imelda about the safety
"About where we're headed..." you begin.

"Have you reached a decision yet?" Imelda asks you.

A chill wind passes under the wing, making you both shiver.

(You could agree to go north with her, ask her to go south with you, tell her you should split up, or tell her you can't decide.)
You tell her we should split up
The story doesn't understand that command. Please use ASK ACTOR ABOUT TOPIC (or just A TOPIC).
You tell her you should split up
"We're still technically enemies," you say. "We'll just have to go our separate ways."

Imelda shakes her head. "No, I can't leave you limping through the snow on a broken leg. Look, if you really want me to, I'll go south with you. But I'd much rather you came north with me."

(You could agree to go north with her, ask her to go south with you, tell her you should split up, or tell her you can't decide.)
You ask Imelda to go south
Imelda refuses your request.

Your breath leaves little clouds in the air.
You ask Imelda about the Tiger Sauce
"Have you ever had Tiger Sauce?" you ask.

Imelda looks puzzled. "You mean sauce made from tigers?"

"I think it's tiger milk, actually."

She turns her nose up. "No thanks."

"Oh, you'd be surprised."
You ask Imelda to go south with you
The story doesn't understand that command. Please use ASK ACTOR ABOUT TOPIC (or just A TOPIC).

Snow continues to drift down from above.
You ask her to go south with you
"I think you should come south with me," you say. "The Benevolent Empire always treats its prisoners well, and I have plenty of clout. We'd be able to spend quite a bit of time together."

Imelda looks a bit conflicted for a moment. And then she nods. "Okay. I've looked after you for a while, now maybe it's your turn. I won't be sorry to leave the war behind, either. So, yes, let's go south."

The triplane rocks slightly in the wind.
You suggest making a the fire
You look around. "I think we could build a fire. If we put it right there it should be close enough to warm us up, but the wind will blow the smoke away from us."

Imelda crawls out from under the wing and stands up, snow crunching beneath her feet. "Okay, I'll go find some wood, or anything else that looks like it'll burn. Give me your gun. I'd hate to have to face down a feral icekin with nothing but a couple of pine branches."

(You could agree, or politely refuse.)
You tell her you can do better
You shift your broken leg so that you can grab a couple of sticks from the pile. "I think the Boy Scouts need to take over here," you tell Imelda.

She gives you a very doubtful look. "Excuse me? The Sky Guides are more than capable of rubbing two sticks together. Unless you can think of a way an all-male group might have gained extra practice in that regard?"

"Clearly you don't have enough confidence in your abilities to just get on with it."

"I'm just trying to get you to save your energy."

You both tend to the sticks in intense silence from then on. But the fire doesn't suddenly spark to life, it forms slowly from a wisp of smoke, and it's hard to tell which of you is more responsible for it. When it's crackling away nicely, you both sit back, shoulder-to-shoulder.

"I told you to save your energy," Imelda says. "That was clearly my spark that lit it."

You shake your head. "My sparks were much more vibrant. You could tell they had the Lucas Thane never-give-up attitude."

"Fine, keep lying to yourself. We both know the truth."

"I agree that one of us is in denial, but I don't think it's me."

Imelda holds out her hands to the fire. "It's nice that we got it done, though."

You hold out your own hands. "I don't dispute that."
Kiss imelda
You're not about to kiss the enemy without at least a hint that she'd like you to.

Snow continues to drift down from above.
You ask Imelda about the love
You clear your throat. "So, Imelda, how are things with the men in your life?"

"Do you mean my male friends among the Sky Mercenaries? Or are you sneakily trying to ask about us?"

You rub your hands together to try to keep them warm.
You ask Imelda about us
"Imelda, about us..."

She looks down at her feet. "What about us?"

"Well, what's your take on it? Why do we keep circling around one another? In the air or otherwise."

Still without looking at you, she says, "I can't really remember how we first met, except that I suddenly realised this plane from the 5th Imperial Air Squadron kept seeking me out to duel with me, probably because I'm an obvious target in my scarlet plane. I usually brought down every enemy plane I came across, but you always managed to escape. I only shot you down that once. I started to research you, found out who you were, started to learn your flying style, had a chance to kill you, but didn't take it, and then flew into you in the middle of a snowstorm. And now here we are."

There's a pause, and then she adds, "But that's not what you asked, really, is it? That's just the story of us - I didn't mention my feelings at all." She smiles apologetically.
You ask Imelda about keeping warm
You hold your hands out to the fire. "This is nice."

"Yes," Imelda agrees, "my fingers don't feel quite ready to snap off anymore."
You hug imelda
You wrap your arms around Imelda and squeeze her tightly.

"Why Lucas," she says wryly, hugging you back, "you must contain your obvious desire for me."

"I'm just trying to keep warm," you reply.

"Yes, keep telling yourself that."

A chill wind passes under the wing, making you both shiver.
Kiss imelda
You lean over to Imelda and kiss her on the lips. She kisses you back, forcefully.
You ask Imelda about duelling
"It's a strange past-time, really, trying to shoot one another out of the air."

"Yes," Imelda agrees, "we should take up chess or ballroom dancing instead."

The triplane rocks slightly in the wind.
You ask Imelda about what she's doing after the the war
"Aside from sticking me in a triplane, you got any plans for after this all blows over?"

Imelda scratches her ear. "I don't know. I really don't know. I went straight from aristocracy to being a fighter pilot. This is preferable, believe it or not. But you'd have to be insane to want to do this forever. Or maybe I am insane, I don't know. I just don't know."
You ask Imelda about the ballroom dancing
"Do you dance?" you ask.

"Not when I'm this cold," Imelda says. "But I learnt ballroom dancing when I was young. I can be as graceful on my feet as in the air."

"We'll have to dance some time," you suggest.

"Certainly," she says mischievously, "but I warn you, my hands have been known to wander."

"I'll keep a careful eye on you, don't worry."
You ask Imelda about the chess
"Do you play chess?" you ask.

"More than that," Imelda says. "I win at chess."