It was a sunny day in May, 1887. I was a midshipman, in the Royal Air Force, one of the thousands of young men and women in the growing forces of the British Empire. We had long been threatening our most hated enemy, the French, with war, and we were finally ready for it. Our commanders were already placing us on alert, as we were to join the main effort against Paris in the enterprise that was to become the Great French War.
On the last day of May, I was assigned to join two other airships and set out with heavy bombs to the outskirts of Paris. We flew to the outskirts and dropped the bombs from a height of a few thousand feet above the target and proceeded to wait for the resulting fires.
The morning went slowly. The Parisian defenses had not yet come up, and the air was quiet and peaceful. I set my eyes on the Parisian coastline, and watched the dead bombs and bullets floating down the water. Nothing of great importance happened for the next few hours, until after midday when we got a French vessel.
Being a cadet and a storm of nerves, I decided to stay at a distance and fire on the vessel with my heavy guns as it passed, to show my skills. But at that moment, the French vessel exploded.
I was amazed. My eyes were open now, seeing the truth of war as it truly is. My commander, who had joined me in setting up the attack and been asked to set out into the air fairly soon, was going mad. I radioed for him and his class, that we should all gather at the airship and spot-check our armaments.
It took a while for us to arrive, as we were still busy with the bombs and the bullets. But the trip ended with a bang when we got the second French vessel going up in flames. We radioed for help and communicated with the French. They started sending their gunships down at us.
We were about to engage them head on. But then the unthinkable happened. Chugging down the road came a huge, 20-something-cannon steam-plated ship. It was a living fortress: its plates were tougher than anything we'd ever seen. It was already firing at us when I saw it. The rail gun bullets it was firing were of great quality, and the only reason I wasn't hit was because the sandbag my commander had given me, that many before me had carried, kept me safe.
I was worried, but my commanders organized our defense. I had been told to stay low, and so I did. I hollered over to them, 'The weightsmiths have gone mad!'"
I watched as my commanders organized our defense. It seemed to take forever before the enemy fired again, allowing us time to actually predict where the blows would fall before they did. And as predicted, we continued to take hits, but now the delay between each hit was longer than before.
We were about to fire back again luckily, when one of our commanders chose to change tactics. Without warning, he began heading down, and our airships quickly followed. He was going to the main deck and fight the vessel at close range.
We engaged the vessel at very close range. That was what made the impacts so much worse. He was switching sides constantly, and as a result, nothing we did had a great effect. Our airships were flying close. The enemy were not making any safe shots anymore. A few times, it seemed as if we were going to disable them, but our efforts were thwarted by enemy missiles. We were all very anxious, and the safety railings shuddered and shook under the tension of my cohorts.
Suddenly, the ground beside me was filled with strange propellants. I was astonished. I blew them out of the way and launched myself forwards to see what new weapon the enemy had brought along.
But I hit something hard. And guessed what it was. It was the enemy, firing at me with their rifles. So I hit back, but there was one person that I hadn't seen: The swordsmith in the middle, who had a zap-beam in his hand.
These swordsmiths often carried these sword-weapons, 'Zap-Beams', as they are called. They are a deadly weapon, however they are not very accurate. But they are still a very powerful adversary. I dodged the swords and ran towards the swordsmith, and seeing that my aim wasn't all that great, I drew my gun, seeing that the enemy was in a very close range.
I fired at the enemy, and he missed me by a thin straw. I then saw that the enemy was either dead or unconscious, and managed to fire a single shot at him and see where he landed. His body sailed backwards, hitting the ground and tipping over a chair in the far back.
I then reached him and struck him on the head with the butt of my gun, to see if he was dead. He opened his eyes, looked me straight in the face, and appearing to be frightened, I asked him, "Who are you? Who are you?"
The swordsmith smiled and said to me, "You can't see me. But I can see you. You're not shooting at me, because I'm not shooting at you. But you are running to me, because you do not like me, and you do not know why."
I didn't have time to say anything, however, as I had heard the engine of an airship, so I ran for it and went for the deck.
Apparently, we were the only survivors. No trace of any person from the French had ever been found. It was so strange.
I remember that night where I questioned what I was doing. I regularly fired cannons at imaginary enemies on the shores in France. I remembered how the great machine had fired and destroyed the other French vessel. I even remembered the swordsmith that night, as I watched out of a porthole into the night.
