The night sky over the Mediterranean was velvet-black, punctured only by the distant gleam of stars and the faint silver ribbons of six bombers carving a high arc toward North Africa.
Oberleutnant Keller sat in the cockpit of the lead craft, hands resting lightly on the controls as the delta-winged machine hummed around him.
The aircraft felt less like metal and more like a living thing, a predator gliding across the heavens.
His headset crackled.
"Eagle One, this is Falcon Six. Fighter escort approaching from the north-west. ETA thirty seconds."
Keller adjusted the gain. "Copy, Falcon. Bring them in tight. Enemy intercept capability is low, but we don't take chances."
Beneath them, the faint glow of Oran's harbor bled into the desert like a dying ember.
Even at altitude, Keller could see the movement, ships crowding docks, trucks bottlenecked, men swarming toward the piers.
"Looks busy down there," his copilot murmured.
"Desperation usually is," Keller replied.
