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He had never seen an 86F he couldn’t out turn in the Fury 4. The pilot ahead of him was very good as were most of the JSDF pilots he had played war games with. Many were WWII Japanese Navy pilots. Lots of them were aces. Hank had never fired his guns in anger. They continued their turns then suddenly the Sabre reversed his turn. Hank smoothly followed, slightly closing the gap. Hank’s G-suit was fully inflated and he grunted hard to keep his vision from going gray. The Jap plane snapped back in another reversal. Hank gained a few more degrees on the plane in front of him as the dogfight continued. He knew that they were losing altitude and took a quick glance at the altimeter. 19,000 feet. He could feel the slight vibration of the airframe that told him he was on the edge of a high speed stall. He could pull the turn just a hair tighter. His nose was on the plane ahead of him but he couldn’t get enough of a lead ahead of the ‘enemy’ to take a shot. Suddenly the F86 ahead of him. "We will be in conference until diner." Sir Bogud told her, "See to my rooms. And have a cask of wine sent up from my men. I wish to gift it to your Lordship." My thanks, good sir" His Lordship responded as he stood, "Well, go on girl. We're done."With such an abrupt dismissal, Helena scampered for the door. Before she could close it all the way, she heard Sir Moreland call to her. She peered back into the room. He smiled at her gently, 'Ye've done well."She smiled shyly back, embarrassed, "Thank you, Sire."On the way to the storerooms for fresh linens, Helena stopped in the courtyard to send a messenger to the encamped army. Nearly everyone knew that she had been in the wardroom and for a rare few moments, she had untold authority. Quickly, she arraigned for someone else to fetch a broom, hot water and rags to Sir Bogud's chamber. She sent others out to air the blankets and to bring up rugs for the cold stone floors. Once she was alone, she swept and scrubbed the floors and dusted.
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