Chapter Text
It always started the same, and it never ended any other way.
Maverick clung to Ice’s saddle, the dragon’s sky blue wings beating the sky into submission. He crowed, throwing his arms back as Ice tucked his wings in, spiraling towards the ground miles below them in a steep dive. He could feel Ice’s joy through their bond. There was nothing like the freedom of being on a dragon’s back, soaring through the air.
Ice snapped his wings out, shooting higher into the sky. He flapped hard, gaining lost altitude quickly. It was a hot day and the thermals were fantastic, hot cushions of air sending him spinning even higher into the atmosphere. Maverick leaned close to the saddle, adjusting the straps over his thighs on the fly, making sure they were still tight after the spiral dive Ice had just performed.
Ready to go again?
Ice’s voice was a rumble in his mind.
“Absolutely! Do it, Iceman!”
Ice let out a roar, folded his wings in once again, and shot towards the ground like a missile from the time before dragons.
Maverick shouted in glee, his heartrate spiking, stomach swooping. There was nothing, nothing, like the feel of a dragon diving, plummeting through the sky. Riders put all of their trust in their dragons, and there was no one, human or otherwise, that Maverick trusted more than Iceman.
They dropped even closer to the ground that time, Ice unfurling his wings a mere 100 feet from the ground. Maverick pressed against the saddle, making himself more aerodynamic as they climbed back to altitude again.
The radio in Maverick’s helmet chirpped and then he heard the voice of his best friend in his ear.
“You two are going to make old Admiral Benjamin go gray.”
Maverick burst out laughing, looking over his shoulder at the other dragon and rider heading towards them.
“He’s already gray, Goose!” Maverick said.
“And I’m sure you and Iceman gave him every single one of them,” Goose said as his dragon, Slider, slipped easily into Iceman’s wake.
“I’m pretty sure I only gave him half of those gray hairs.”
“Yeah, that half when he caught you in his daughter’s bedroom.”
Both men laughed, waving at each other from their respective dragons.
Maverick could hear the dragons speaking to each other, though their words were lost on the wind. There was a reason riders and dragons had to communicate via the bond. There was no way to hear each other with the wind whipping by.
“What’re you doing out here, Goose?” Maverick asked.
“New orders. There’s been unknown dragons sighted about 280 clicks north from here. Since you and Ice were already airborne, they sent us up to join you and check it out.”
Strange dragons? Ice’s voice cut into Maverick’s head.
“What kind of dragons?” Maverick asked.
“Unknown means unknown, Mav.” Maverick could practically hear Goose rolling his eyes. “None of ours, and the powers that be reached out to the Air Force and they don’t have any dragons in the area.”
“Could they be wild dragons?”
“Unlikely, according to intel. At least one of them had a rider.”
“Huh. Well, let’s go check it out then.”
Ice flapped his wings, gaining more altitude, Slider right on his tail. It wouldn’t take long to reach the search area, and Goose and Maverick traded occasional quips from their respective dragons, but mostly flew in that easy silence that came from years of partnership. They had known each other since their days at the academy, been selected as riders together, and had been chosen by their dragons on the same day.
Ahead! Iceman snapped, tilting his wing and spinning into a thermal, rising quickly. Maverick looked the way he could feel Ice focused on.
“Yeah, I see ‘em, Ice. Two o’clock, Goose, I see four dragons, at least two riders.”
“Copy, we see them too. What do you think? Recon, or make contact?”
Maverick watched the dragons, biting his lip. Something didn’t feel right. He felt Ice grumble and knew that his dragon agreed.
“Let’s see what happens. Set up a pattern, Ice, patrol, we watch them and they watch us.”
They all knew there was no way the other dragons and riders weren’t aware of them. The navy had yet to figure out how to make stealth armor for dragons; the great flying beasts were very easy to spot no matter what they tried.
Ice and Slider soared apart, easily slipping into a patrol pattern, flying back and forth.
“Talk to me, Goose,” Maverick murmured into his mic. While he only ever heard Ice’s voice in his head, he swore the connection he had with Goose was damn near telepathic. Goose was his best friend, his guiding light.
“They’re turning towards us, Mav,” Goose warned.
“Contact!” Maverick shouted as a fifth dragon that they hadn’t seen shot between Ice and Slider.
“Shit!” Goose yelled, Slider banking hard to the left while Ice shot to the right.
The other four dragons were on them, and the fight was on.
“Weapons package hot!” Maverick said, flicking a switch on his saddle and wrapping his hand around the stick. Iceman rolled, surprising the dragon that had been on their tail. Dragons rarely did maneuvers like that with riders.
As they swept behind the enemy dragon, Maverick squeezed the trigger. The weapons package strapped to Ice’s wings, the machine guns, roared to life, spitting lead across the dragon’s back and punching holes in its wings.
Maverick squashed down the sadness at the sight of the great beast folding and falling through the sky, rider clinging to its back. Something in him always hated taking down another dragon. They were beautiful, amazing creatures, but if it was him and Ice or them, he would pick Ice every time.
He was aware of Slider and Goose nearby, one of the smaller dragons in Slider’s back claws.
Iceman shot a crackling ball of ice at another dragon and Maverick let out a shout when the dragon avoided it. A gush of fire shot from Slider’s mouth, catching the dragon when it swerved to avoid the ice ball. Maverick would hear that pained scream in his nightmares for years to come.
Three down, two to go.
The dragons were smaller than Ice and Slider, but they weren’t wearing anything but a saddle. They didn’t have the armor and weapons systems the navy dragons did.
They could do this.
Ice’s head snaked out as the smallest dragon whipped by him, teeth sinking into the other dragon’s wing. Ice shook his head, blood spraying across his scales as he tore the wing right off the enemy. Maverick watched the dragon and rider fall, swallowing hard.
His head whipped around when he heard a scream, a roar, and a horrifying crack. Ice spun, a shriek like Maverick had never heard a dragon make before tearing from his mouth.
The last dragon had known it was going to die, and it slammed into Slider’s unprotected neck, snapping it immediately. Maverick watched in horror as the big, black dragon’s wings stopped flapping, his head at angle that shouldn’t be possible.
“GOOSE!” Maverick screamed. “Oh God, Goose! No!”
He knew it was too late. Goose would never hear him again. Goose would never hold his wife and son, and Goose would never fly on the back of his dragon again.
Goose died the moment Slider did, and Maverick and Ice felt something inside them die that day.
Ice let out that horrible scream and his claws snagged the stunned enemy dragon from the air. He twisted, yanked, and ripped it to shreds, blood and viscera raining down on the forest below.
He folded his wings, plummeting after Slider and Goose, raking his claws forward and trying to catch them, but it was no good.
Maverick watched as his best friend fell, still strapped to the dragon that was like family.
Maverick watched as they crashed into the earth, clouds of dust obscuring their bodies from view.
Maverick watched, and—.
:::
Pete Mitchell woke with a start, running a shaking hand over his face and trying to wipe away the tears.
“The same dream again,” Ice said, his voice echoing in the hangar.
“Yeah,” Pete said, sitting up and dashing away the tears. It was always the same dream. Pete sighed, hands resting on his knees, and looked around. He had fallen asleep on the couch in the hangar again, not that that was really surprising. The trailer was not big enough to fit Ice, and the hangar was. The big dragon was curled up in the center of the hangar, head near the cluttered living area that Pete spent most of his time in. Pete had the TV angled just right so Ice could watch those stupid reality shows the dragon seemed to love so much.
Pete stared at his dragon and Ice stared back, years of partnership negating the need to talk just to fill the silence. Pete knew Ice could feel the tightness in his chest, could feel the last threads of that same damn nightmare clinging to his conscious. Ice would have seen the same dream.
Even after almost 30 years, it still hurt. Pete knew it would always hurt.
Ice hummed, blinking those electric blue eyes at him. Pete got to his feet with a groan and walked over to the dragon, leaning against his cheek. Pete closed his eyes, pressing his cheek against the warm scales of his partner. With Ice’s head flat on the ground, he barely came up to the bottom of the dragon’s eye, but Ice never made Pete feel small.
Pete took long, deep breaths, inhaling the scent of his dragon. He could never entirely put his finger on the scent; brimstone, rain, the first snow of winter. A scent uniquely Ice. He centered himself, pressed against his dragon, the bond between them completely open.
They had no secrets from each other. Hell, Pete didn’t think he could keep something from Ice even if he tried.
After a few minutes, Pete opened his eyes. He pushed away from Ice and smiled at him. The dragon blinked at him and shifted his bulk, keeping his wings tight to his body as Pete opened the hangar’s bay doors the rest of the way.
“Ready for today?” Pete asked, walking out onto the tarmac with Ice. Ice shook out his wings, stretching them to their full extent.
“Of course I’m ready. Are you?”
Pete snorted. “I’m always ready, Ice.”
Ice shook his head and Pete swore the dragon rolled his eyes at him. “I’ll see you on base,” Ice said. “Going to stop for a bite on the way.”
“Gotcha. See you there, Iceman.”
Pete put his hands on his hips, watching as Ice trotted down the runway a bit before snapping his wings out and beating the air into submission. He shielded his eyes as Ice climbed higher, the sun peeking over the mountains to the east as the dragon swooped low before turning and heading west. With the bond open between them, Pete could feel the absolute freedom Ice felt in the sky and his heart ached to join him.
Some people joked that Pete should’ve been born a dragon, clearly much more comfortable in the sky than on the ground. Those people weren’t wrong. Pete longed for the freedom of the air.
He waited until he couldn’t see Ice, even as a tiny speck in the sky, and walked to the trailer, quickly getting dressed. He pulled his bomber jacket, various patches worn and showing their age on the leather. He stopped in front of the corkboard full of photos, eyes moving over them.
There was him and Ice on bonding day, his smile so wide it looked like his face was splitting in two. There was Goose and his wife, getting married, another of them holding a baby. There was Maverick and Goose standing side by side, arms thrown over each other, laughing at the camera. There was one of Slider, looking majestic next to another black dragon, his clutch mate, Viper. There was Pete, standing next to a young man who looked achingly like Goose, shaking his hand as he graduated from the Naval Academy.
Pete shook himself. He didn’t have time to stand there and look at photos.
He tapped the photo of him and Goose with his knuckles, grabbed the keys to his favorite motorcycle, and headed out.
:::
The Dark Star project was the culmination of decades, nearly a century, of research. Dragons would never break the sound barrier, but humans and dragons had been working together to try to find some way to make a dragon stealthy. It wasn’t easy.
Maverick and Ice had jumped at the chance to join. They had been dismissed from their short lived teaching position at the Navy Dragon Flight Weapons School, mostly because of their propensity to do insane stunts in the air (at least according to the men in charge). Those stunts had gotten more reckless after Goose and Slider were killed. Some said Ice and Maverick were trying to get themselves killed, but they weren’t. The recklessness made them feel alive.
They had bounced around commands for a few years; no one seemed to know what to do with them but the navy couldn’t get rid of Maverick without getting rid of Iceman, and the navy hoarded its dragons. Eventually, Maverick would die and after a few years, Ice would bond with a new rider. Hopefully one that wasn’t batshit insane.
When word of the Dark Star project had reached Maverick and Ice, they volunteered. They had been with the program for two years, and they were moving on to testing a new type of armor for Ice. They knew that they were still years away from stealth, but they were close to figuring something out, Maverick knew it.
Pete sped along the runway. He could almost imagine fighter jets taking off from it, screaming into the sky like a dragon of metal. Almost. He had only ever seen a few images of fighter jets, hell, of planes of any kind.
He pumped his fist as Ice dove and soared next to him, claws bare feet from the ground. He laughed and throttled the bike, pulling ahead to give Ice plenty of space to land. He drove the bike right into the hangar, grinning at Hondo and the group of techs standing behind him.
His smile slid off his face as he got off his bike and walked towards them, Ice squeezing into the hangar.
“What?” Pete asked.
“Admiral Cain is on his way. He said he needs to speak to you.”
“What? Why? He doesn’t talk to me. He doesn’t even like me,” Pete said.
God, he really disliked Cain, and the feeling was rather mutual. It had been years before he found out just why Cain disliked him so much. Cain had been a candidate for a dragon when he was much younger, but all of the dragons, including Ice, had rejected him. The man never got to fly.
If Pete was a better man, he’d almost feel sorry for Cain. But he didn’t. The man had been hounding him and Ice for years, trying to get them grounded, or better yet, drummed out of the navy all together.
“Whiny little prick,” Ice muttered, knowing damn well that all the humans standing nearby heard him.
Pete tried to fight back the smile, but couldn’t.
He looked at Ice, looking back at him with those calm, electric blue eyes. He looked at Hondo, one of the few men that he truly counted as a friend, and he looked at the group of people standing there. All of them had thrown their hearts and souls into the Dark Star program, looking for a solution, looking to make stealth armor that worked for dragons.
If Slider and Goose had had stealth armor, they would still be here.
“Well,” Maverick said after a moment, a slow smile spreading across his face, “he’s not here yet. They want stealth? We’ll give ‘em stealth.”
Ice’s growling laughter echoed in the hangar, and the crew nodded, and everyone got to work.
Maverick followed Hondo as the crew started pulling out the armor for Ice. The chest and back pieces, the gauntlets, the high-tech saddle, the weapons package. The neck armor, added to all dragon kits after Slider’s death, and the helm that fit over his head.
Ice watched his human disappear into the tiny door to get ready and lowered himself to the ground so the other humans could get him ready. Wearing armor and weapons was not unusual, not for a military dragon, but this armor felt different. Ice didn’t know if it was because of what it meant, or if the humans had truly had a breakthrough.
He spread his wings as the crew fastened the weapons system harness to him, the barrels of the guns resting near his body. The crew was efficient, taking a bare fifteen minutes to get him fully armored up. They were used to him, chatting with him as they clicked pieces of armor together. One of them was securing the saddle while the another double checked the chest armor.
He got to his feet as Maverick walked out with Hondo in full flight gear. The flight suit was black, matching the armor Ice wore, and the inner legs and back of it were reinforced with dragon leather. Various clips hung off the suit, ready to secure Maverick to the saddle. He held his helmet under one arm and started walking around Ice, doing the typical preflight check. Hondo walked over to a large refrigerator and opened it, pulling out what looked like a massive capsule bigger than his head.
“Hey there, Iceman, ready for the good stuff?”
“My favorite part,” Ice said, rolling his eyes. He lowered his head to the ground and opened his mouth, razor sharp teeth glinting in the low light of the hangar. Hondo walked fearlessly up to his open maw and put the capsule right on the dragon’s big tongue.
Ice closed his mouth and swallowed, grimacing as the capsule slid down his throat.
“Hey man, I know,” Hondo said, patting Ice’s front claw affectionately. “Still the only way we can monitor your stats.”
“I know,” Ice said, shaking his head.
“You aren’t the one that has to dig it out of a steaming pile of dragon shit, though, Hondo,” Maverick said, finishing his walk around of Ice.
Ice and Hondo laughed at the disgruntled look on Maverick’s face.
“You know what he eats? I used to think cat shit was bad.”
“Quit whining,” Hondo said, slapping Maverick on the shoulder. “You know you love it.”
“I love Ice,” Maverick pointed out, putting his helmet on. “I do not love Ice’s shit.”
“Stop talking about my shit and get on, Mav,” Ice said, holding his front leg parallel to the ground.
Maverick laughed and grabbed onto the built in ladder on the gauntlet on Ice’s leg. He clambered up easily, maybe not quite as fast as he used to, but it was muscle memory at this point. The saddle was situated between Ice’s wings, right along his spine. Maverick lowered himself into the seat, tightening the straps over his thighs and quickly hooking the clips to other parts of the saddle. He took the umbilical on the back of his helmet and plugged it into the computer, listening as he was connected with the control tower. He connected his oxygen mask to the tanks on either side of the saddle. He only needed it when they went above 24,000 feet long term, but it was imperative that he had.
“Lights are green across the board,” Maverick said as Ice ducked and walked out of the hangar.
“We hear you, Maverick,” control said back to him. “You and Ice are clear for take off. Be aware, Admiral Cain is at the gate.”
“Who?” Maverick said with a grin. He heard the nervous chuckles of the people in the control room. “Let’s get airborne, Ice. Before Cain gets through the gate.”
“With pleasure,” Ice said, wings unfolding. Maverick sat up straight, doing one last check. Ice could take off from a standstill, but it was more difficult. He started down the runway, first at a brisk walk, then a trot, before breaking into a run, wings spread wide to catch the air. Maverick’s stomach swooped when they left the ground, flying low and fast across the tarmac. Ice tucked his legs right up against his body as they went over the entry gate, his tail smacking the top of Admiral Cain’s rented SUV as they climbed into the sky.
“That’s gonna leave a mark,” Maverick muttered. That repair would most likely be taken out of his paycheck. Oh well. He was airborne, moving as one with Ice. He could feel Iceman’s smug laughter through the bond and he couldn’t help the laugh that spilled from his throat, the sound torn away in the wind.
They headed for the test zone, where DADAR would try to locate them with the stealth armor. Dragon Aerial Detection and Range was a fairly new technology, or at least an old one repurposed to finding dragons. So far, they had been found every time.
Ice soared through the clouds, tipping one wing and rolling until he was completely inverted, just to feel the joy radiating from Maverick. Ice had had many riders in his long life, but Maverick was by far his favorite. He straightened out and did a few more aerial maneuvers, draconian lips curled in a smile.
:::
Admiral Cain stood in the control room, watching the DADAR technicians work. He knew they were testing out a new armor, and while he wanted to talk to Maverick before the bastard had been airborne, he wanted the stealth armor to succeed as much as the rest of the navy. He was a hardass, and he wasn’t a rider, but he knew that the stealth armor could save dragon and rider lives in the future.
“We have them on DADAR,” one tech said, pointing to a blip on the screen.
“Mav, we see you guys,” Hondo said into the radio. “Go ahead and turn on the stealth mode for us.”
“Copy control,” Maverick said.
They all watched the DADAR screen, waiting.
“Talk to me, Goose,” Maverick’s voice whispered through the radio.
“Holy shit!” the tech yelled, staring in amazement as the blip disappeared.
“Mav, you copy?”
“Read you loud and clear, Hondo.”
“We lost your signal.”
“Hell yeah!”
Cain nodded to himself, watching.
Barely two minutes later, the blip reappeared. DADAR had detected them once again. But it was a start.
“We’re heading back,” Maverick said.
“See you when you land,” Hondo said.
“I’m going to the hangar with you,” Cain said.
“Of course, Admiral,” Hondo replied.
They were waiting when Ice walked back into the hangar, Maverick perched proudly on his back. Ice came to a stop, eyeing Cain with distrust. Maverick undid all of his clips and undid the thigh straps, sliding down Ice’s side to his front leg, once again held parallel from the ground.
“It worked, Hondo! For a few minutes only, but it worked!”
“Yeah, it did,” Hondo said. “Uh, Mav, Admiral Cain in here to talk to you both.”
The crew swarmed Ice, removing the armor just as effectively as they had put it on him. Cain stood in front of Maverick and Ice, looking at them both.
“Sir?” Maverick asked, sounding barely respectful.
“There’s a mission,” Cain said, looking between them. “Against my wishes, you’ve both been recalled to STRIKE.”
Maverick’s eyes widened and he shared a look with Ice.
“Sir?”
“You’re both to report to NDB North Island in two days. That is all.”
Ice and Maverick looked at each other. Navy Dragon Flight Weapons School, better known as STRIKE to the riders that graduated from it, was the best dragon flight school in the world, exclusive to the navy. Maverick and Ice had graduated second in their class, behind Goose and Viper. They hadn’t been back since they had been ordered to leave after their failed teaching stint.
“What the hell?” Maverick muttered, watching Cain walk away.
“You should pack,” Ice said, lowering himself to the ground. Maverick leaned against his leg, still frowning.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll meet you back at the hangar, okay, Ice?”
“See you there,” Ice said.
Maverick talked briefly with Hondo before mounting his motorcycle and driving off. Ice watched him grow smaller, stomach tight with worry.
He swallowed around the ever growing, constant pain in his throat. He hadn’t told Maverick. He hadn’t told anyone.
He swallowed again and got to his feet, slinking out of the hangar to take to the skies once more.
He would have to tell Pete soon, he would have to tell all of them soon.
But he couldn’t. Not yet.
When this mission, whatever it was, was finished, then he would tell them.
But not yet.