Pokeumans - Oh What A Lovely War

This piece is a remnant of the group Secret Santa, due to an incredible bit of bad planning on my part. It's a gift for Solomansky, and the only reason he's getting two is that I can't organise myself properly. Regardless of that, please all enjoy.



The morning sunlight attempted to permeate the slatted window bars, pushed a little bit of the way through and then gave up. Thomas rolled his eyes at the thought. That was a notion with which he had become familiar by now.

He manipulated the knocker on the thick wooden doors briskly, and the clipped voice inside said 'Come in.' Obediently, he went in. The office wasn't the largest but they were making good use of the space - boxes of supplies piled upon shelves, walls covered in charts full of arrows and lines and crosses (one of which, he tried not to think, represented him) and a large map of the area rolled out over the desk, two large red lines drawn almost parallel from top to bottom. Behind the desk Colonel Jonathan Wittingstall-Stanley, a name larger than the man was, looked up at Thomas and folded his hands. 'Ah, it's you Lieutenant. At ease.' Thomas gratefully relaxed his shoulders.

The Colonel moved a marker across his map, frowned at it, and then slid it back again like an awkward game of chess before looking back at Thomas. 'Sorry, just had a thought. Anyway, to business. I should start by say- Lieutenant, please remove that coat. It's not appropriate in your superior's presence.'

Ah. So they were going to mention it. Thomas shuffled his arms closer to his sides. 'Er, with all respects sir, I feel a terrible chill. And it is a regulation jacket, so I'm allowed to wear it.'

'A chill? In the beautiful French sunshine? I thought you were from Manchester and you complain about the cold here?!'

Thomas tried not to roll his eyes again. 'Sir, you get very little of the beautiful French sunshine sat at the bottom of a very deep hole full of mud. These are not holiday conditions.' The temptation to put in a little cheeky smile grew too strong. 'Although maybe the Field Marshall lives in a deep mudhole anyway, so for him this may well be a perfect trip to a deep mudhole in a slightly warmer country.'

'If only this was a holiday.' The Colonel looked down at the map again and Thomas breathed a sigh of relief. His secret was safe. 'Anyway, I called you here instead of your Captain for a very simple reason, Thomas.'

'What's that, sir?'

'The fact that you have reportedly grown a bloody great pair of wings on government time.'

Thomas snapped upright, his stare glassy. 'No idea what you're talking about, sir,' he lied effortlessly.

He was wrong. The secret was out. The game was up. He'd thought that he could hide it, ha, now how well had that worked out for him? The past three days wound across his inner eye like a film spool. When he first saw a black feather sprout on his arm he'd assumed it was just cabin fever setting in. He hadn't been mentally prepared for the mess he was in now, after all, he'd just thought like everyone else that the whole thing would be over by Christmas. He'd thought it was the after-effects of that coming into play. But then the sprouting feathers were still there the next morning, and many more besides. And his toenails had turned hard and black and sharp, and had tried to take over his whole toe. He'd almost gone into catatonic shock on the first encounter, he saw in his hindsight mirror. Within a couple of days, his whole torso was covered in black-and-white down and his arms had lost all resemblance as arms anymore, looking more like... well... more like... wings. His arms had turned into wings. And his mouth had gone all stiff and his feet had turned into talons and he could have sworn his facial construction had shifted. In short, if he hadn't known better he'd have said he was... turning into a bird. And after he'd tried to pluck one of his feathers out of his chest yesterday morning and got a blinding pain up his torso in return, he really didn't think he knew better any more.

What had he done in return? Well... He had not panicked. He had not let himself freak out. For all he knew he was permanently losing his humanity and turning into some sort of slavering bird-creature for ever, and that was terrifying and he hadn't slept all week, but... If he had panicked, he somehow knew that it would only make it worse. He'd taken a deep breath, and decided that if he couldn't stop it (and he couldn't), he may as well ignore it. Just... keep going. Keep up the bright demeanour, and maybe you can even fool yourself that it's not happening. The routine of the Army had helped keep his mind away, and he'd been certain no-one else knew. He'd kept as calm as one reasonably could in his circumstances, by all the force he had. This was 1915, after all, not the bloody Dark Ages. And what other options were there, he'd forced himself to consider in the dugout one evening as the rest of the crew slept and he felt the feathers sprouting on his shoulders. Run away? Try to flee? On tiny awkward bird feet?

Besides, you could get court-martialed for doing that kind of thing.

The Colonel smiled humourlessly. 'I really think you do know, Thomas. You did a good job of hiding, you really did, but we were always going to spot you. You can't even hold a rifle anymore, and the strange smell of matted bird that went with you helped. And then, of course, one of your platoon members saw it clear as day all down your back one afternoon, but he's been paid handsomely for his silence.'

Thomas would have bit through hs tongue if he still had one (how he was still making speech and articulation sounds without it was a mystery he'd never answer). He should have been more careful. He'd been a fool. And now he'd been caught. What he said, very slowly, was 'Do you mind if I take my coat off now, sir?'

The Colonel just tightened his smile. Thomas removed it, and even through his shirt the unnatural shape of what was once his arms was clearly visible. In fact his chest looked puffed out beyond normal and... was he shorter now? He didn't know. Thomas looked down and saw what had happened to him for the first time in days now, and nearly threw up at the sight.

The Colonel recoiled at the sight at first, but then his attention came back and he stated with wonder at the birdman before him. 'Amazing...' he breathed softly. 'Imagine it - the potential. A powerful bird of prey, but with the cunning intelligence of man... You are keeping your intelligence, yes boy?'

This sounded more like an order than a question. 'Yes, sir!' Thomas jumped in surprise. 'No adverse effects at all!' Absolutely no compulsion to eat worms or build a nest, thank you for that sir.

'Good...' The Colonel's unchanging smile now deepened and Thomas swallowed nervously as he felt the feathers pushing out along his back. He didn't like the look on his face. It meant something terrible was about to happen, and since there were only two of them that meant it would probably happen to him.

'Thomas...' the Colonel said slowly, 'can I interest you in a new role in the King's Army? Something that can use your new, ah, skills.'

'I refuse.'

'I haven't told you what it is yet.'

'I still don't like it.'

'Thomas, you could be of impossible value to us. Our best planes can only do so much, and they're easier to shoot down and need more maintenance. But you? Think of it, Thomas. You could be a weaving, powerful air troop. Scouting, dropping shells, even sabotaging enemy planes, you could do us all sorts of good. You may even be our best bet against this supposed Jerry superweapon I've been hearing about.'

Cold sweat broke out on Thomas' neck, insofar as he was still capable. 'S-Superweapon, sir?'

'We have no idea how, but they seem to perfectly predict our every movement along this front. Every advance, countered man-to-man. And then there are shells that stop in mid-air over their lines and then fly back at us! As if by the hand of God himself, they say!'

'I thought God was on our side, sir.'

'For as long as we're destroying and killing his beautiful creation I don't think God is on anyone's particular side here. Never mind. You'll be in a prime position to find out what it is.'

'You mean when it kills me, sir?'

'Nonsense. Why should they target a bird with it? And that is the beauty of this arrangement. You're beneath suspicion, but capable of so much. Now, report to the aerodome tomorrow sharp to test out your flight capacity.'

'Hold on, sir!' Thomas protested. 'I refused to do this!'

'That was an order, Lieutenant, not a request.' The Colonel's eyes brimmed with the fury of the thunderstorm. 'You know the penalty for disobeying orders, yes?'

'F-F-Firing squad?'

'Then we'll see you tomorrow.'

Thomas' shoulders sagged. He was powerless, and he knew it. 'Doesn't my opinion matter here?' Silence greeted him. 'Sir, aren't you the least bit disturbed by a human being transforming into an entirely different species?!'

'I've never needed the imagination to be surprised before, Lieutenant, I'm not starting now. Besides, they say that some German crackpot is going to disprove all the physics we ever knew anyway, so the hell with it. Now go and get some rest.' A vicious smile curled up on the Colonel's face. 'You have a big day tomorrow.'

Thomas let himself out, making sure to re-affix his coat.

It might not be so bad, he told himself repeatedly as he left the building and walked unsteadily to the taxi rank. It might not be so bad. For all he knew this would be a wonderful experience that got him out of that bloody, muddy, rat-infested trench and handed him a privileged position with the Air Force, who had always seemed like nice blokes. But...

He didn't like that smile on the Colonel's face.

It seemed like this thing, whatever it was that he tried not to consider, was just now another excuse to make him into a weapon. Aerial scouting, running missions, dropping attack shells. Like a bit of machinery. In a way the offer sounded less like a privilege and more like a pet bird of prey. He'd go out and do their dirty work, because what else did he have? Nothing. And he knew it.

He definitely was smaller now, because the step into the taxi was much higher than it used to be. The driver already knew where he was going without a word.

Thomas looked at himself, under his shirt at the white-and-black feathers that covered most of his body, and in the privacy of the backseat he felt a tear roll down his deformed face. He had managed to come to uncertain terms with changing his species, but the thought of having his humanity taken away terrified him much deeper.


---


The grass was straggled and grew in limp tufts of hope. The trees were leafless even in spring and blackened with soot. The mud was everywhere. Someone with a profound sense of irony might have dryly remarked that the land looked like a bomb had hit it.

The two men in uniforms stood looking into the sky as the Sun started its tragic descent towards the horizon, the light still strong in their faces as they peered upwards through the binoculars. Suddenly one of them pointed, and without a word the other one held out his gloved arm. A dark spot in the sky began a wheeling and circling descent towards them, wings out wide until it swooped down and the large crow's taloned feet touched down on the man's glove. Ignoring the mud squelching at his ankles, the other man lowered his binoculars and said 'Report.'

The crow's head sagged forward, the unmistakably hat-like protrusion tipping with it, and the animal said 'Bloody tired.'

'You've had a week and a half to get used to your new contract, just tell us what you saw.'

There was a sigh that sounded more like a bleak crowing. 'They have two full platoons moving into the trench front-lines tomorrow, bringing with them extra supplies. Artillery is being rolled into the fields half a mile behind the line, so expect an attack within a day or so.'

'Anything else?'

'They have at least twice as many aircraft active or in storage as they did last week, prepare for that. No opportunities to divebomb them, sorry.'

'Very good. Any sign of the... you know...'

'Nothing that would sway the jury.'

'Fine. Good work, Thomas. Fly on down the next fifteen miles and report to Captain Jonas there.'

'I almost got shot down, you know.'

'But you weren't,' the man with the glove spoke for the first time, coolly.

'But I-'

'But you weren't, and are yet to have been throughout your whole tenure. You have nothing to complain about, with your powers of flight that normal man can only dream of. You are an incredible breakthrough.'

'So was chlorine gas.'

'Enough of that lip,' the uniformed man replied with extra sarcasm on the last word. 'Get on with doing your job and we'll do ours.'

Thomas had learnt to stop asking since when he had become the front's ultimate messenger pigeon and stealth bomber. He'd also given up protesting that he had his basic rights, because they'd replied 'As detailed by who?' and then he'd lost. And he hadn't been shot down yet, or even shot at more than twice. He must just have some sort of super luck.

'Actually, I...' The crow turned his head the other way, then looked back at the two men and said 'I think I found something I can... do. Out there. That sort of scared and amazed me together.'

The two men leaned towards him expectantly. Thomas closed his eyes and focused with all his might. He could feel it... Deep inside... It was only mid-afternoon but there was enough shadow to...

The two men frowned with disappointment when suddenly the shadow of the blasted tree nearby reared up off the ground like a cobra. Before either man could scream in terror the shadow snaked out and swiped at the grass at their feet, coiling away back to the trees as the top half of each blade fell gently to the ground having been sliced cleanly with a blade of pure darkness. The two men threw themselves down on defensive instinct, which was good because what could only be described as a pulse of darkness suddenly shot out of Thomas' body, and even as the plane of darkness crossed over their heads they could feel the sheer unbridled energy that burned within it. Thomas, now in the air under his own power, spread wide his wings with a crow that chilled their hearts as an orb of darkness grew above his head, suddenly shooting the shadowy ball off towards the Sun as it reached its zenith. And then there was stillness.

The uniformed men rose slowly from the ground, their faces trained on the nervous-looking Thomas all the way up. Their previously dismissive expressions from when they looked at him before had been changed to regarding him like they would a Horseman of the Apocalypse. That was until they met each other's faces, where their expressions slowly changed into tight, calculating smiles as the same thought occurred to them both.

Thomas looked between them fearfully. The last time he'd seen a face like that was when the Colonel had signed him on to doing this task from hell in the first place.

'Why didn't you tell your commanding officers about this sooner?' the quieter man said.

'Because I only discovered I could do it about ten minutes ago. Didn't half scare the wildfowl to death... or me...'

'Stealth, high versatility and human level of intelligence...' one of the men started saying with a smile.

'And the ability to dive-bomb with shadows and defend yourself with darkness,' the other one finished. 'Amazing. And at night... You could be the greatest superweapon we've ever had.'

'But... I don't want to be a superweapon.'

'Let me spin you a little tale, Lieutenant,' the second man replied, adjusting his glove and glasses. 'Antelope use their powerful legs and haunches to run and flee from danger. Lions, on the other hand, use their strength and fangs and claws to provide such a danger in immensely effective form. Lizards ambush prey with their camouflage. Sharks eat seals whole. And do you know what soldiers do?'

'What?'

'They damn well follow orders, that's what they do. We're going to have a lot to discuss at Headquarters when we get back. A lot of reorganising your... new appointment. In fact there's no time to waste here. I'll radio ahead for a car.'

Thomas' eyes perked up, despite himself. 'Oh? So, am I going back to base with you?'

'What? No. Fly on, soldier. Go down the next fifteen miles and report to Captain Jonas. There's plenty you could put your beady little eagle eyes to down the rest of this line, believe me. We'll go on and report in on your abilities, although we may need to call for a demonstration.'

'But...' Thomas knew the argument was futile even as it left his beak.

'No buts. Do as you're told.' The man with the perching glove waved his arm and Thomas squawked for balance, eventually pitching off into the air in a muddle of feathers. From there, he slowly began to flap his wings and ascend into the skyline. What else could he do?

'Remarkable,' the man with the glove said as the two watched the black dot rise into infinity above them. 'A human being, now a bird with the powers of darkness. The world is a great, unknowable, terrifying place.'

'Whatever,' the other man replied as he reached for his tobacco rations. 'I hear there's this scientist in America or somewhere who'll pay big money for anyone like Thomas that's had such a transformation, though. He has aspirations for them, or something.'

'Oh feh, the Americans. Our men are getting shot at every day on the front line and what are they doing for the 'free world' they keep banging on about, hm? Even the Russians are chipping in their bit.'

'I dunno, Wesley. This scientist guy sounds like he's got a pretty big sphere of influence. Any day now he'll breaking out over here, I bet.'

'When it comes to people extending their sphere of influence I say we worry less about scientists and more about the Kaiser. Now come on, help me set up the radio. If we spin this right there could be a pay bonus in it for both of us.'


---


And so it had been that way, for many days to come after.

Thomas shuddered to think of it even now as he flapped his wings over an updraft. They had him demonstrate his power, alright. Power that terrified him to possess, but glorified them to wield. Then he wasn't just on scouting duty anymore. When he saw a part of the enemy line that looked vulnerable, he had to hit it. Orbs of shadow blossomed out of nowhere and struck down enemy infantry from above like the sky falling itself. Artillery technicians found their weaponry sliced to bits from within by the very shadows they created on the ground. German aircraft suddenly found themselves flying in darkness as black as ink and impenetrable as a hurricane. From there they were easy pickings for the Allied planes buzzing around. No-one ever thought of just looking upwards and spotting a large, black bird, whose ominous eye looked down upon all such scenes of supernatural terror. He once saw in the German reserve trench, on a flyover scouting sight, among all the men sitting miserably and taking fearful shelter an old man in a formal cloak, carrying a golden cross towards the front and spraying incense as he went. They had even brought a priest to try and dispel him, because they'd thought that was what was needed. That hurt him deeply, so deeply that when he returned to his perch that evening he didn't touch a single one of his birdseed. They thought he was a demon of some sort.

He wasn't. Was he? No, he wasn't.

The worst tasks were the night missions, because they felt the best. He tried to shove it from his mind, but it wouldn't go. Under the light of the moon he was undetectable, at one with the darkness around him. And he would crow, on an instinct he knew was older than himself, and the smaller black birds would flock around him and then attack under the cover of darkness. There was no way to fight them off. How could you? Shadows were everywhere those nights, and his power lay in the shadows now. And in his mind, the most terrifying part, was the voice that sounded too much like his own that revelled in his power over the birds and perhaps, even, the enemy, that delighted in their blind obedience and smugly reminded himself that it was only right, they should naturally follow such a superior animal to themselves as the enemies ran, panicking for cover...

He didn't feel like a person anymore. He didn't feel human. He felt more and more wearied and less and less capable to live his basic human freedoms. And if he didn't have them, what was he? He feared the answer, that it would be that it made him the weapon his generals had always been using him as.

And that was when he knew that he had to go.

No bones about it. He just took off from his perch that morning and went left instead of right. A cursory glance down told him he was heading... roughly north, away from the trench lines. Oh, they'd come after him. Thomas knew that. But - and he gave a powerful flap of the wings as he thought it - now the advantage was reversed. He was the little versatile bird that could fly and roost anywhere, and they were the big lumbering meatheads in their awkward transports and clomping feet.

He could run. He could run away. He didn't care anymore. Let them follow him. He could waltz them up and down Normandy and then just fly off whenever. Even if it didn't work that way or that easily in practice, the vision made light bloom inside him for the first time in too long. He knew he had a chance of winning this. How had he not seen before? This could very possibly work. They might pull something out of their sleeves... but until then, he was free. He was at one with the wind and the sky. Letting out a delighted crow that actually came out as a 'Yeee-hah!', he swooped low over a haystack and smirked as the man in the field stood up and waved his fist at him.

He was free. He hadn't been free in... too long. Much, much too long.

Where would he go?

Did it matter? Away from here, that's where. Maybe he'd camp down in the Champagne region once this ghastly war ended (it couldn't go on forever, even if it was when his team lost). Maybe he'd fly over the Channel and make a living crowing ominously on top of the Tower of London. Now that he was no longer obliged to use the powers of his new form, he was finding more and more that he was enjoying using them voluntarily. Flying was fun, it turned out! After all this time!

And he could feel the pressure to fight for King and Country and all that nonsense dropping off too as he flew onwards, over a leafless forest covered in the fine mist of morning. He was a bird, now. He could finally accept that. He didn't have to fight anymore. They don't take women in the army, he sniggered to himself, do you think they'll take animals? His war was over. Lieutenant? Keep it. Civilian Thomas. He was in mufti now - forever.

Ok, so yes he'd lost his human life, he reasoned slowly as he drifted onwards. Yes, he'd wanted to become a practicing engineer. Yes, he'd wanted to ask that beautiful Samantha Blackhurst out when he got back and use his shiny medals to wow her over. But now? Well... he could start over. Find something new to commit to. This could be the start of something really big when he...

Hm? What was that speck?

To a human it was just a smudge on the skyline, but to a bird's keen eyesight it was a visible shape. In fact, as it flapped its way across the horizon in vaguely the same direction as him, it looked like a fellow avian. Except like none he'd ever seen before, Thomas thought as he banked sharply and shot through the air towards it in the distance, using the airflow to his advantage. Mostly in the perfectly spherical head, and the strange green shade of plumage. This called for investigation.

He got up until he was about ten or fifteen metres away from and behind the other bird, which in the air is like a couple of feet in real terms. It hadn't seemed to notice him, somehow. He definitely noticed it. How couldn't you? The head was indeed as round as a ball, with eyes on either side that could have been painted on if they didn't flit around nervously watching the skyline to either side (but not behind). The plumage was green, but the head feather (head?) was long and red and stuck out like a plank. Stripes decorated the bottom of its rounded body and the tips of its white wings. If it hadn't looked like a strange South American figure, Thomas would have said it was from Mars itself.

It was flapping nervously, and its head darted from left to right as it flew. Somehow, it had not looked behind and seen him.

'Hey!' he shouted out, attempting human tongue before any sort of bird call. The green bird's head snapped up like an electric pulse and for a second its wings didn't beat in shock. The round head turned, and the curved, unnatural, terrified-looking eye caught his own.

'Schisse!' it shouted in a voice of panic.

Thomas locked up as well on hearing the distinct Bavarian accent in its voice, hovering in one place and beating his wings uncertainly. That was not in the expected plan.

The green bird spun round to face him and its eyes locked onto Thomas' own forcefully, as if trying to pluck apart his mind from the inside with a look. In its chest he realised with terror that he could see two smaller, red eyes, never blinking, never changing expression. The bird flapped its wings as if wringing its hands at him. 'Vergessen ich hier bin!'

Despite everything he had just said that his personal war was over, instinct and drummed-in training leapt Thomas into action and some slight logical reasoning kept him going. The green bird squawked in no language on Earth as Thomas shot through the air with a vicious crow and piled down on top of him into the branches of a tree. 'Alright, you dirty rotten Jerry!' he shouted at the struggling bird beneath him, 'whatever your game is you've got a lot of answering to do! Lay down your, er... weapons.'

Why can I not re-direct your mind?

'Wha!' Thomas fell back at the voice in his head from nowhere and that gave the other bird enough time to push upright and into the air. However, as Thomas righted himself, he was surprised to see that the other bird did not escape or flee, but simply hovered in the air looking at him with a frown as if unable to work it out. He tensed to lunge forward again-

The green bird's face took on a look of fear. No! Stop! Don't hurt me! I am like you!

That voice again. It went into his mind without passing through his ears (or whatever he had now). Thomas stopped, and frowned at the other bird. 'Was that... you?'

Yes, that was me. I am the possessor of strange, terrifying powers that let me read and manipulate the minds of others and move things with a thought. But they do not work on you! Please, I was once a human like you too!

'How do you know I used to be human?' Thomas asked carefully. He didn't know what was happening but flipping out would not get him any answers.

You are the only other bird in the sky who has attempted to speak to me in actual English.

'Well- Wait, if you're a German then how come you speak English?'

Since the opening of my mind I have become fluent in three thousand, one hundred and ninety-seven languages. Please, may I speak with my mouth? This is becoming tiring.

'Well... Alright then.' The green bird looked relieved as he shook his head out.

'Thank you,' he said in his funny Bavarian accent. 'Please, I know I am technically your enemy but I am on the run. I no longer wish for my powers to be used to destroy my enemies in a way they have no chance to even understand, yet alone counter. Do not take me back to your masters, please - then they will just do the same. I mean you no harm.'

'Er, well...' For the first time, Thomas felt awkward talking to the German bird. There was no hostility being directed here. He didn't know how to cope with that. 'I'm kind of on the run too, you see... for the same reason. They were using my scouting abilities and my...' He hesitated. '...ability to control darkness against my wishes and stripping me of my freedoms. I'm on the run too. So no, you're not going back to the army.'

The relief on the German's face melted the cold reaches of Thomas' heart. 'Thank you! Gott mitt uns, I was so afraid! Thank you with all my heart! I... I had to flee here, you see. I couldn't let them keep having me throw their own weapons back at them and predict their every move before they had even decided it. If the other man has a chance to fight back, it is a war, terrible enough as it is. But if they can't? That is slaughter, as one would slaughter animals in winter. No, I couldn't let that be. You know that pain too?'

'I do, I definitely do...' Vivid, sharp memories burned their way into his consciousness, and he stuffed them back down again with all the force he could muster. 'So you threw our weapons back to us? Did you throw our planes out of the sky too?' There was a nod. 'You're the German superweapon?!'

'And you are der Schwarze Dämon - the Black Demon.' Thomas shuddered in revulsion at hearing this moniker he had had thrust onto himself. What effect must he have had on those poor men? 'And yet here we are, meeting in the skies as equals. Both simple, tragic men, fleeing from what is supposed to be our own side, scared of our powers and unsure of our futures.'

Thomas didn't know what to say in response to this. The German was cutting through to him effectively and cleanly. He'd just assumed like everyone else did that the Huns were all sausage-sucking barbarians that ate whole hogs and downed beer by the keg each. But this man, this former man was reasonable. Polite. Articulate. And very frightened. And was in exactly the same position he was in. Eventually he managed 'How did you... predict us so well? Your guys intercepted every move we made.'

The green bird locked up slightly in the air, but then his right eye slid sideways towards the distant horizon. Thomas stared with growing disturbance. The right pupil was sliding to the side as if drawn magnetically, but the left eye hadn't moved at all. In a slightly ominous tone the German said 'Among my latent powers... I am gifted, or is it cursed? I see the whole of the future and the past together, at once, in one stream. I read the future of your troops movements and told the superiors how to counter you. I see... in the future, my current species will be dubbed as 'Xatu'. How strange. Yours will be called a 'Honchkrow'.'

Thomas tried to ignore that it had a nice ring to it. 'You can see all of tine? That must be... incredible! Wow! Amazing! You have no idea how much I envy a power like that!'

'Don't. I have seen terrible things in the past, and in the future yet to come. It makes me want to stand in one place and never move from fear. My own country will do terrible things, perform horrible, horrible atrocities to people who will not deserve it. Many countries will neglect their most needy and wage war with those they do not need to. There will be war, and terror, and hatred. And I know it is immutable - I cannot change or prevent anything I have seen. It is the most painful curse in the world.' The... "Xatu"'s eye re-focused and looked at the terrified Thomas with feeling. 'But do not despair. I have seen other things as well. Things of beauty and wonder in both past and future, acts of such human kindness and self-sacrifice and sheer, pure love that it makes me weak at the knees. And I know none of those can be prevented either. The future as not as bad as it looks from the outside.'

Thomas had nothing to say. What do you possibly say after that?

The "Xatu" turned his head on an angle and looked at him funnily. 'But all of the people at my base were susceptible to my ability to invade their minds and affect their thoughts or control their actions. Nothing affects you. How can that be?'

'British spirit?... I don't know. I wouldn't be surprised if it was just in my nature now. Maybe your mind powers run scared at the darkness in me.' He didn't say that philosophically - simply descriptively. He was just starting to not be scared of himself anymore. And maybe this German had helped him with that. 'I guess... I should ask... What's your name?'

'I...' The "Xatu" paused defensively, but then relented. 'Karsten. Karsten Schwarz. And you, British man?'

'I... Well, my name really is Tommy, but- Stop it!' It was too late - Karsten was already covering his face with a wing in a bad attempt to hide his laughter. 'Stop it, it's just a coincidence! Anyway, I thought you Germans had no sense of humour.'

'And I thought you Englishman started every conversation with "Good day sir, what awful weather we're having" but we are learning all sorts of cultural insights today, no?' Karsten sniggered behind his wing for a few seconds more while Thomas rolled his eyes, but then settled himself down and regained his composure. 'Well, now what shall we do? Where shall we go now?'

'How about- Wait, "we"?'

'Well, why not?' The Ger- Karsten replied. 'We are now both, what is your phrase... In the same ship together, as it were. The same fate has befallen us both. Now the same escape may well benefit us both too.' Karsten looked up at Thomas, and his contemplation seemed to the crow not to be sad or nervous or worried, but for the first time to be almost shy instead. 'And... I would very much appreciate the company.'

But we can't be, you're a German and I'm a Brit and there's a war on and I'm fraternising with the enemy and I don't have anything to trust you from and we just can't be a team and...

Were thoughts that passed one by one across the centre of Thomas' mind, turned and tossed over like the raging sea, and then wetr buried one by one in the corner of his mind. He was right. They were basically the same now. What did a funny accent and some varying cultural heritage each mean in real terms when he looked across at the Xatu? Here was a man who was in his shoes, in the same boat. And he knew he'd want to be helped by him the other way round.

'Yeah... Yeah, you're right.' And immediately he started to feel better. 'You're right. We need to go somewhere, and I want to go there together too. How about... shall we visit your country first or mine?'

Karsten looked backwards cautiously. 'I fear I am still a high value target in the Fatherland. It would be much safer to decamp to England for now until they give up or presume me dead or whatever. Then, I would love to return and show you my country.'

'I look forward to it. But for now, let's go north. I haven't been home in a long time.'

They turned north, and as they set a new course the two soldiers fell in together side-by-side. There was no great event. It just happened. It felt natural. Flying wingtips almost touching, the Hun and the Tommy set off north together. And it had never felt so right.

A thought uncomfortably pricked Thomas' consciousness as they flew. 'Er, Karsten... Just in terms of making contingency plans, of course, but what are we going to do about our old allies while they're still looking for us?'

'I will scan ahead in the future to see if we will encounter them whenever we stop somewhere,' Karsten replied calmly. 'If we will, we can then make preparations.'

'Oh, I get it. You check ahead to see if there will be any trouble, and if we can't avoid it then I'll use my shadows to get us out of there safely. I like that plan.'

'I doubt we will have any trouble, though. Before I left I simply erased all their memories of me ever being there. Besides, we are heading the wrong direction for my old army to reach us.'

'And mine will find it a bit difficult to convince Mr. Haig that it's worth their while chasing me. "No really, sir, we had a soldier who turned into a bird and he flew around and took intel and shot balls of shadow from- Don't hang up the phone!" That'll go well!' The two birds laughed at the thought as they flew on for a while. 'Of course, that leaves random busybodies trying to interfere...'

'Yes. They are rather more difficult to predict.' Karsten turned his head in flight to look at Thomas, and smiled. 'But something tells me that even if I cannot predict them, they will not pose much of a threat to us regardless.'

'You said it. Now come on, Karsten, London's calling us!'


---


The headmaster closed the book. 'And that is more or less the story of how this base was founded, and why we have such strong links with the Basis München on the continent. And now, on this Remembrance Day service, let us all join in a minute's silence in memory of all those servicemen in the First World War who...'