Sweetrunners

Chapter 1 of a work in progress

“Well, that oughta be the last of it,” Lu said. He wore a wide brimmed hat woven from palm fronds. His had on his usual blue linen shirt; it looked like a very pale grey under the light of the full moon. Lu always carried a paper fan with him and tonight was no exception, even though the prevailing wind kept the warm night from becoming too unbearable.

Rafe Tripman watched the longshoremen load crates onto his cargo plane, the Lucky Tripper. The crates had been stamped with words like “seafood” and “coconuts”, two of Malatagua’s largest exports. The real cargo, the one hidden amongst the fruit and the fish was the island’s most valuable asset.

Sugar.

The Victrean Empire had outlawed the sweet stuff a few months prior. Queen Ysenia had taken an unusual interest in dental health and had learned sugar was a primary driver of tooth decay. For the last few months the commonwealth had suffered the loss of its favorite sweetener with unusual grace. Thanks to sweetrunners like Rafe, of course.

Rafe glanced at Lu. “Awfully big cargo. You sure the buyer’s legit?”

Lu waved his fan. “You know how dangerous questions are. But I’ve been given solid assurances.”

Rafe snorted. He had an idea what kind of money Lu’s plantation was making with the sugar prohibition. He trusted the sweetmaker deeply but wasn’t so foolish as to think there wasn’t such thing as “too good to be true.”

Sugar was still legal on the Matrín archipelago, but, this island, Lu’s island, Malatagua, had become a talking point recently. It had largely been considered a territory under Matríno dominion, but for the last half century or so the island owed practically all of its economy to Victrea. Certain members of Parliament were starting to make the case that this, along with Malatagua’s closer proximity to Victrea proper made it a de facto territory of the Empire.

Rafe knew Lu was feeling the pressure of increased scrutiny from both governments. Even still, the pilot didn’t need to remind the sugar man who was absorbing the most risk of this operation.

Rafe’s young co-pilot Domingo Olésola approached. He jabbered a smattering of phrases in Matrino to the workmen he’d been coordinating. The group laughed. Domingo turned, smiling brightly. “All set, boss,” he said.

Rafe clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man, Dingo. Go eat, if you’re hungry. I’ll go wake Jez and get the preflight started.” He peered up at the rising moon and glanced at the neap tide. “I’d like to be skyborne in an hour tops.”

“Jez doesn’t need waking,” a voice called from over his shoulder.

Rafe smiled without turning. “Good evening, Jez.”

Lieutenant Jeznia Ketcham shuffled up between him and Lu. She saluted the sugar baron with a tin cup, fragrant with coffee. “Still the best in the world, Luey.” She took a sip and tossed a banana to Dingo. “Gotcha the last one.”

Domingo blushed and Rafe wondered if she knew how badly the young man was crushing on her. Probably. Jez wasn’t stupid. She’d taken a path that was becoming increasingly popular with adventurous Victrean women: a five year stint in the Imperial Air Force. It gave them a chance to see the world, and more importantly prospects in the booming aviation industry. Practically one in ten Victrean merchant planes were helmed by graduates of this program.

Jez, though, was a fighter pilot. She’d saved her salary over her career as best as she could and immediately purchased an Oleskian F-7 Thresher interceptor. Sky piracy was a more lucrative career than ever, and therefore, so was being a fighter escort. She’d been flying cover for Rafe and Dingo for a few weeks now, and they all got on well together.

“I’m ready to go whenever,” Jez said after another swallow of coffee. She nodded to Lu. “What do I owe you for the top-up, by the way?”

Lu flashed a toothy grin. “For you my darling? Nothing.”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “Don’t let him fool you. He builds it in to the commission.” Lu fanned himself innocently. Rafe turned back to Dingo and nodded at the banana. “Is that all you needed?”

“Just wanna grab coffee, Skipper. You want some?”

Rafe considered. “Sure, bring me a cup. I’ll get the Tripper warmed up. Jez?”

She finished her coffee with military aplomb. “Aye, aye, skip. See ya up there.” She nodded to the sugar baron. “Lu, twas a pleasure. Thanks for the hammock and the fuel.” She waved her cup and grinned. “And for caring for my bird.”

Lu gave her a little bow. “The pleasure was mine, Miss Ketcham,” he said magnanimously.

“Lieutenant,” Rafe corrected.

Jez waved it away with a gesture and made a face. She pulled the goggles draped over her neck up onto her forehead, tying her sand-colored hair back like a makeshift headband.

“Doubt you’ll need those tonight,” Rafe teased.

Jez was already swaggering away. “You fly your way, I’ll fly mine.”

He shook his head at her back and clasped hands with Lu.

“I like her,” the Matríno said.

“With luck, she’ll keep us alive long enough to make it to next week. Take care, Lu.” Rafe made for the dock and climbed onto the Tripper.

---

All things considered, it was a nice night to fly. The winds were calm and visibility was excellent, thanks to the full moon. A pilot could hardly ask for better conditions. Unfortunately, when you were smuggling these were the kind of conditions that would make you much easier to spot.

Rafe couldn’t decide if he preferred the risk of a moonless stormy sky over the risk of a Victrean patrol. Six of one, half dozen of the other.

He looked over his shoulder as Malatagua’s Gecko Bay shrank into the horizon. They stayed low to avoid detection; it was only a five or six hour flight from Malatagua to the Victrean capital of Ana-Elizabeth, but VIAF patrols were near constant in this corridor. On the flip side, it made sky piracy on this route practically a non-issue.

Rafe scanned the moon flecked black water for signs of patrol ships. He knew Jez, positioned behind and a little above would be doing the same. She’s send a quick double burst of static if she saw anything unusual.

“Nice night, eh Boss?” Dingo mused. The young man seemed comfortable as he checked the instruments.

“That it is, Dingo,” Rafe said, but the truth was, his hackles were up. Things had been going too smoothly. He was certain they were going to run into trouble on this run. He thought he concealed it well, though. Domingo didn’t seem anxious in the least.

Rafe listened to the buzzing hum of the Tripper’s dual propellers for a while. Maybe he’d see about getting one of the new radar systems installed. Then again, it would probably be more prudent to hire another escort fighter so he could make longer runs to Olesk and maybe even Taslia.

He narrowed his eyes. Was that movement on the horizon or a trick of the moonlight? Last week a pirate had cruised after them for a while but pulled away once he’d gotten a good look at Jez’s Thresher. The sleek sharklike planes were developing a reputation as good escorts; it was part of the reason he’d chosen to hire her over a more experienced Ace. Plus something about her confidence….

A double burst of static sounded in his headphones. He saw Domingo stiffen in the corner of his eye. Jez’s plane drifted ahead of them and he watched intently. She dipped her left wing twice before easing back on her throttle. Two bogeys. And because she’d settled back into formation he knew they’d been spotted by a Victrean patrol.

Rafe relaxed. He felt an odd sense of relief that he hadn’t been wound up for nothing. A moment later a white-phosphorus flare bloomed in the sky and dropped towards the ocean. It was a signal that all pilots knew meant “maintain speed and heading until instructed otherwise.” The unspoken part of this unwritten rule: if you deviate at all, you will be shot down.

Rafe could see the Victrean fighters in the moonlight, already beginning to turn to form up with him. The pair sported the unmistakable inverted gull wings of Fleetwood Industries’ Tigerhawk attack craft, a favorite of the Victrean Marines. Maritime patrol craft like this were typically painted white, earning them a cheekier nickame: Incisors. Rafe’s new friends were no exception.

“Dial us in to thedusual Victrean merchant radio frequencies,” Rafe said to Ding. He considered playing dumb, but it was better to just be as cooperative as possible. Still, it was kind of fun to force patrols to have to use signals to communicate. Just not tonight.

Ding’s eyes were as big as saucers. Rafe’s mouth became a grim line but he kept his tone from being too harsh. “You need to calm down. We’ll be alright, as long as they don’t get suspicious. Nervousness is suspicious.”

The XO bobbed his head a little too enthusiastically but he sounded nonchalant enough. “Right, yeah. They are a little intimidating is all.” Dingo smiled. His charisma made the nervousness sincere. “That’s the point right?”

Rafe nodded. “Yes, but it’s like a swamp cat right? If they see you’re afraid, they pounce.” Rafe tries a calming smile but he doubted it was effective.

The Victrean fighters dropped into formation on either side of the Tripper. “Captain Steadman Rafferty hailing merchant aircraft. Please reply. Repeat. Captain Steadman…” the patrolman kept reciting these three short phrases and would, per Victrean procedure, for two minutes before switching to visual signals.

Rafe pulled the microphone closer to his face and pressed the talk button twice, sending a burst of static to the pilot and indicating he was going to speak in a second two. “Good evening, gentlemen, Rafe Tripman of the Lucky Tripper, operating on behalf of Sunrise and Sons shipping. We read you.” He found that ‘friendly’ tended to get slightly better results in these situations.

“Good evening, Lucky Tripper,” Captain Rafferty said with the clipped syllables of a professional. “Please ascend to 10000 feet and adjust heading to one-three-five. You will report for mandatory inspection. Please acknowledge.”

Rafe bit back the urge to argue. It would only make things worse. “Acknowledge. Wilco.” He pulled back on his control yoke, forcing the Tripper into a gentle climb while updating his heading.

“We appreciate your cooperation. Remain on this frequency and await landing instructions from Appomattox Station as we approach.”

“Roger,” he said. He knew Appomattox. It was an airbase situated on an atoll about 80 nautical miles northeast of their position. The airbase had become a bustling inspection port lately. While it was an annoying place to have to stop, once you cleared inspection there, you usually got a slip that allowed you to forego inspection in Ana-Elizabeth.

Movement drew Rafe’s eye to the starboard window. A few angry red streaks of tracer fire lanced from above. His mind barely had time to register what was happening before the Tigerhawk to their right caught fire and tumbled out of the sky. They were under attack.

Rafe’s heart pounded in his chest but he kept his voice steady. “Alright, Dingo. Your first pirates.” He was amazed by how rueful he managed to sound. “No sudden movements. They’ll want the plane intact, so they won’t shoot us down.” He left the “probably” unsaid.

Over his headset he heard the abnormally calm voice of Captain Rafferty address Jeznia. “Lieutenant, if you please?”

“Roger,” Jez replied. She formed up with the Tigerhawk and they broke off to deal with their attackers.

“We’re in good hands,” Rafe said, wishing he meant it more than he felt. “Keep an eye out for a chute.” He nodded at Dingo. It would give the lad something to focus on, but Rafe saw nhe way the fighter had exploded. A family would be getting a very difficult letter in a day or two. He tried not to think about it anymore, and failed miserably.

---

Jeznia eased her Thresher just aft and port of Captain Rafferty. Hours of combat drilling made it practically automatic. Adrenaline flooded through her and she became hypervigilant, scanning the velvety, navy-black sky for their attackers. Generally, night fights were harrowing, but the full moon and excellent visibility made it decidedly less so.

She spotted the gunship that had shot down the other Victrean. She wasn’t absolutely certain, but the drab grey shape looked like an old Fukuoka Industries Porpoise. Originally designed to be a transport, the aircraft had a reputation for being reliable and easy to customize. The Porpoise was a mainstay in mercenary fleets, where it did everything from hauling cargo to dropping bombs. A lewd airman Jeznia had served with even had plans to turn one into a flying brothel.

She noticed an orange flicker near the Porpoise’s midsection; these guys had obviously installed a belly turret on theirs. She and Rafferty jigged their aircraft to make themselves more difficult targets. As they approached, a light fighter broke away from above the Porpoise. Again, the silhouette was hard to match perfectly, but she was pretty sure the escort was an agile LeSabre Falconet attack plane.

“Lieutenant?” Captain Rafferty prompted.

She wondered how he’d known her former rank. Maybe it was force of habit. Nevermind. “On it,” she said and angled to intercept.

Jez had been stationed in Pima, and the Falconet had been the backbone of the Pimal Air Force. Her Thresher had a much better engine and would be able to outclimb and outgun the smaller fighter, but it would absolutely win if she got into a turning battle with it. Energy wins fights, and the Falconet had the advantage of altitude. She’d need to mitigate that, and thankfully, Rafferty’s easier-to-see fighter had drawn the Porpoise’s attention.

She tracked the Falconet by the glare of its canopy. The pale moonbeams tinged its silhouette with a gentle glow, but twice she had to correct her heading as she lost the plane to the night sky for a few heartbeats. The enemy Falconet climbed up and its shadow crossed over the moon.

Ah. She was dealing with an amateur. It would have been a good tactic if the moon were as bright as the sun. She would’ve been blinded and the attacker would have set up a potential ambush. Doing this with the moon simply presented her with a delicious target. She jammed her throttle to full and tracked her gunsights over the enemy. She’d have preferred being a little closer but the vector was too good. She pulled her trigger and the Thresher’s six guns growled to life. She fired three short bursts and watched with satisfaction as a plume of smoke appeared around her foe. The Falconet listed to its left and caught fire. The plane tumbled toward the ocean, its descent becoming terminal as the Falconet’s left wing sheered off. Jez watched for a second or two more before she wheeled around to rejoin Rafferty.

“Scratch one,” she reported as she stood the Thresher on its left wing. “On my way.”

“Splendid.” The Victrean pilot almost sounded bored. She spotted his Tigerhawk swooping away from a burst of defensive fire from the Porpoise’s dorsal turret. “Should be easy pickings, Lieutenant.”

Jez had gained a fair bit of altitude chasing the Falconet and with the dorsal gunner occupied, she did have an excellent boom-and-zoom set up. She leveled her craft and quickly scanned the moonlit sky for ambush fighters. If she had been a pirate, she would’ve had a second fighter lag behind. Instinct told her they were dealing with incompetent opponents, but paranoia was healthy for fighter pilots. As she nudged her plane forward to begin her attack dive, the Porpoise dipped its wing and turned away. Jez eased back into level flight.

“Lieutenant?” Rafferty prompted.

“They’re disengaging,” she said, but didn’t take her eyes off the Porpoise. Her job was to protect the Tripper, not to police the skies. The threat had been neutralized. Plus, she’d already have one (probable) death on her conscience tonight and she wasn’t keen to add more if it wasn’t necessary.

She briefly wondered if her impromptu wingman would try to order her to shoot down the Porpoise. He didn’t say anything, but he did loop back around and began a textbook strafing run on the pirate craft. She’d flown a Tigerhawk when she’d served and imagined she could hear the signature whistle of the air intakes on fighter’s wings. Could the pirates hear it too? Probably not. Their gunship’s starboard engine erupted in a ball of fire as Rafferty’s bullets tore through it. In seconds, the right-side wing caught fire and the Porpoise lost altitude. Its pilot struggled valiantly but vainly to keep the craft aloft

Jez watched for bailouts, but something exploded. The Porpoise ripped in half, and streaks of flaming wreckage plummeted toward the ocean like a tiny meteor shower. The battle was over, even if her body didn’t quite believe it yet. She formed up with the Tripper.

Captain Rafferty joined them a moment later. “Status report, Lucky Tripper?”

“Not a scratch,” Rafe replied. “Appreciate the backup.”

“Pleased to hear it.” Man of many words, that Rafferty. “Maintain course and we shall arrive presently.”

Jez hadn’t really been worried about Rafe and Domingo. Generally, pirates were loath to shoot down their quarry; cargo haulers were almost as valuable as the cargo itself. They could be sold, repurposed, or used for parts. Some crews ran trawlers so they could dredge downed merchants, but they preferred to coerce their victims to land whenever possible.

It had been reckless for the pirates to attack tonight. Even with the element of surprise, taking on three fighters—two of them VIN regulars—was an extreme risk. Then again, piracy attracted the foolish, the ambitious, and the desperate. Often a mix of all three. Recklessness came with the territory. As did death....

She shoved the grim thoughts away when she noticed an electric blue shimmer on the water below. Bioluminescent plankton churned up by the wake of patrol boat. That meant...yes, on the edge of the horizon, she could see the glow of Appomattox. Her radio crackled to life as Victrean air traffic controllers began delivering instructions to Rafe, then to her. It would be her first time back on a military base since she’d discharged.

For some reason, the idea gave her more anxiety than the firefight she’d been in.

---

AUTHOR NOTE: I have more of this story planned, but don’t intend to release more of it here on substack. This is a story that I’m writing to indulge my own interests: piracy, sugar, World War II era aviation.

UNLESS you readers want to see more? Let me know below if it’s something I should keep sharing on here!