Very nice, the story's really good so far! Can't wait to see more! 
Five more Zero's went down, but the Allies had also lost two more wingmen. The battle raged, the pounding of the AA guns relentless behind them. Most of the second Zero squadron had been cut up by the guns, but several had managed to slip through, firing on the ship briefly before passing it to engage the F6F's.
Suddenly, Charles and George found themselves cut off and outnumbered, Zero's closing in from all sides...
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Charles let out a short burst of fire as a Zero passed in front of him. He clipped the plane's wing, destroying a large chunk of it. The plane quickly spun out of control, accidentally slamming into another Zero passing below. "Two with one shot!" yelled Charles as he jubilantly shot through the air.
Suddenly, a small explosion rocked his controls, causing his stick to jerk left. He rapidly regained control and glanced to the right. George's plane had taken a hit and his tail was on fire. Charles motioned for George to try and land, but the plane was shot and unable to maneuver.
Unwilling to let his friend die, Charles motioned for George to eject. George's cockpit blew off, the pilot shot out like a cork from a bottle of wine. George hung in the air for a moment, Charles watching him out of his canopy. Flying below the falling form of his wingman, Charles wasn't watching what was on his six. Two Zero's came out of nowhere and peppered his plane with bullets. His instruments caught fire, his cockpit bursting into flames.
Charles just barely managed to eject in time, shooting out into the sky. He was almost even with George, both of them hurtling towards the ground. As they came up even with each other, George and Charles pulled their respective ripcords. It would have been a perfect tandum fall, except that George's chute didn't open.
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Charles was ripped away from his friend, hanging in the air as George looked up pleadingly. He was still in freefall as Charles cut the ropes on his chute. Streamlining his body, he dropped like a stone, quickly catching up to the flailing George. He motioned at the secondary ripcord.
George had already pulled it, however. It was also a dud. Charles knew that his spare couldn't support them both. He also knew that George would die if he didn't do something. Before George could react, Charles stripped off his own emergency chute and tied it around George. Pulling the ripcord, Charles dropped through the sky, waving a last salute to his friend.
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Charles plummeted towards Earth, knowing that his own death was rushing up to meet him. He stripped off his helmet, letting the chill ocean air run through his hair one last time. He closed his eyes, trying to make peace with the fact that he was about to die. His fiancee flashed through his mind, knowing what his death would do to her. Then he thought of George and his wife, pregnant back in the states. At least now George's son would know his father. He opened his eyes out of morbid curiousity, wanting to see how far away his death was.
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As he gazed down at the ocean, he was suddenly surrounded by the same blinding light that had been plaguing him for weeks. I can't believe that I'm even denied the chance to see my own fate he thought as he continued falling.
Suddenly, his downward motion stopped. He thought for a brief instant that he had hit the water, but he knew that wasn't the case when he opened his eyes again. The light was gone, replaced by a feeling of elation as Charles realized that he was hanging motionless in midair. He was only 50 or so feet above the ocean, the wind whistling around him.
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Suddenly, Charles shot skyward. He blew past the embattled planes, noticing only briefly that the Allies seemed to be winning. He smiled, still unsure where he was going. He thought, perhaps, that he had died. That his body had plunged into the Pacific and was now winging his way towards Heaven.
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He exited Earth's atmosphere, hurtling through the cosmos. Suddenly, a gigantic spaceship appeared before him, a shimmering curtain lifting as he rapidly approached the ship. Fear gripped him. Had he been rescued from a plunge into the Pacific only to be captured by unfriendly alien beings?
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A portal opened on the side of the ship. Perhaps that's my destination thought Charles as he slowly approached the opening. The word Tej'mar was imprinted in a blue, glowing circuitry pattern over the portal. Charles was slowly brought inside.
Charles was lowered onto a platform, the sleek metal shining brightly under his flightboots. Slowly, a door opened across the platform and a lanky alien being stepped into view. The beings skin seemed almost transparent under the lights on the deck. The energy pulsing inside the being's skin seemed to compose its core essence. A large bulbous head with three short stubs on either side stuck up over the top of a flowing, bright yellow robe, almost like a Greek toga.
The being approached Charles, speaking in a series of clicks, whistles, and hums. Shaking it's head, it quickly pulled a small metallic cube out of it's robe, holding it in an outstretched palm. At least the thing's appendages were vaguely humanoid, even if the digits on the "hand" consisted of two long fingers and two opposable thumbs (one on either side). The cube lit up suddenly, a wave of light streaking over Charles' body. He saw a swarm of small, insectoid creatures inside the beam. The insects collected briefly at Charles' neck, turning the light red over his voicebox. His ears were likewise illuminated and suddenly he found he could understand the alien. The beings swept back into their box.
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"Greetings/Salutations, mortal/Earth-man. We have been observing/monitering you. Forgiveness for not introducing ourselves sooner. We are the Triani." Slowly, the translation became more clear. "We have been around for millenia. We are many. Our numbers are as numerous as the stars themselves. We have stationed ourselves at every planet showing intelligent life and on many that are in the early stages of their evolution. Our purpose for this is that we have...observed...things since the beginning of time. We know the corrupt nature of lesser species. How they turn on one another, robbing and killing when they should be cooperating."
The alien turned, beconning Charles to follow him. It's long robe trailed down the hallway, several other beings in similar attire moving back and forth down the brightly lit corridor. They soon arrived in a room with a gigantic interstellar map on the walls, floor, and ceiling. It almst appeared as if they were standing in the middle of the universe.
Planets lit up and sparkled red. "These are the planets occupied by our forces. We seek only to observe, waiting for...opportune moments."
The red faded, replaced by several blue glowing planets. "These are the ones that are just beginning to bud," said the being, "They will show their first true signs of intelligent life in several centuries!" This last was said with an almost child-like glee, as though the centuries would pass by in an instant. If the being was as old as it claimed, no wonder the time span of entire worlds was as nothing to it.
The blue glow faded, replaced by a plethora of green planets. "These planets are already occupied by our operatives. Every once in awhile we find planets in a state of...flux...A place where the balance is beginning to shift towards barbarism." The alien reached out and touched one of the glowing green marbles, pulling it closer to them. The ord grew bigger as it approached, becoming the size of a basketball.
Charles recognized the pattern of oceans and continents on it almost immediately. "Is that Earth?" asked Charles. "Yes," replied the alien.
"It has come to our attention that the entire world is at war. Not just the petty squabble between the Allies and Axis. The entire planet is quickly becoming embroiled in struggles for food, natural resources, and property. In the next several years the Earth will undergo a vast change from the innocent green marble that you see before you. Corruption will sweep across the globe, villainy choking out heroism like weeds in a bed of roses. But a few will stand strong. A few will become legends. And we intend to help in our own way. You see, we could very easily rain down energy upon the planet, descimating anyone who tried to commit evil. But such a thing would make us no better than the ones we obliterated. We have found a practice, however, that allows us to offer assistance without becoming intergalactic dictators. You see, from each planet that we watch over, we choose a champion from among their own people. A male or female of exemplary character, selflessness, and determination. Pure individuals willing to give their own lives for the sake of others. We believe you to be such an individual, Charles Edwards. We ask you to join the Galactic Union. Become our champion, our representative, on Earth..."
(More to come)
"...We believe you to be such an individual, Charles Edwards. We ask you to join the Galactic Union. Become our champion, our representative, on Earth..."
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"What exactly do I have to do?" asked Charles.
"All you have to do is agree, human. The Triani medical staff will do the rest." The tall alien swept down the hall, its graceful cloak billowing behind him. Charles followed, tucking his helmet under his arm and unfastening the collar of his flightsuit.
They walked for several hundred yards, finally coming to a door marked by a strange symbol which Charles translated to being some sort of medical lab. They stepped through the door and his suspicions were confirmed. All manner of shiny alien apparati adorned the room. Several medical stations were positioned around the room, consisting of glass-like containers filled with a rainbow colored liquid. Metallic rings encircled each station, pulsing with a green light.
Several more Triani bustled forward, their inner energies each pulsating with a different color and rhythm. They also each wore a mask that covered their entire bulbous head. The masks seems to be made of a substance resembling purple coral. These "doctors" led Charles to the first chamber.
"Don't worry, Earth-man," said the lead doctor, "We've perfected this operation over the millenia, making it quite painless...In fact, you'll feel euphoria as the starmetal merges with your genetic structure."
Charles winced at this last. He wasn't exactly a man of science, but he didn't like the sound of anything "merging with his genetic structure."
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He was stripped of his gear, which was cleaned, folded, and laid out for him in the space of about two seconds. The small insectoid aliens had been at work again, seeming more like tools than sentient beings. Charles stepped into the empty glass-like chamber, putting his hands on the smooth sides as the aliens attached a breathing apparatus to his face. As soon as the door shut, Charles took an involuntary breath as the rainbow colored liquid poured out of a vent in the top of the container, beginning to fill the tank. Charles did indeed feel a sense of calmness and serenity as the liquid passed his chest, working its way to his head.
He shut his eyes, letting the liquid envelope him. He started to drift, floating in the warm liquid. His breathing deepened and he thought that he had started to dream...Maybe, he thought, this is all a dream. Maybe I'm still on board the carrier. Maybe when I wake up, George and I can have a good laugh about my crazy dream.
Charles didn't laugh when he woke up, however. He found himself still floating in the liquid, which had begun to pulse with a blue light...Much like the light that Charles had first experienced aboard his fighter.
He felt rejuvenated. Suddenly, the liquid drained away and Charles looked down at his body. He stood there in his military issue boxers, the breathing machine giving his vision a bluish tint. He took the breathmask off as the chamber door opened and looked at himself again. His skin didn't change! It had, in fact, turned light blue! He brushed a hand through his hair, trying to drain some of the liquid out of it. Several strands fell in his face, silver instead of the usual brown. He peered at himself in the glassy surface of the tank, pressing a hand to it and leaning forward. His eyes were white, the irises and pupils nonexistent.
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The aliens took Charles by the arms and led him to a table, sitting the awe-struck human on a solid surface. They brought him one of their toga-like garments and he gladly put it on. He looked like some obscure Roman god, his golden toga and blue skin glowing strangely under the alien lights.
(More to come)
The date is 1943. The place: a Naval aircraft carrier in the Pacific Theatre. A squadron of Hellcat fighter planes sit on the deck, their metallic finishes gleaming in the sun. Several men run around on deck in jump suits, cleaning and prepping the planes for flight. In a briefing room several decks below, a handful of brave young fighter pilots await word from their commander about their next mission over the islands.
"Gentlemen," said the commander, "We have an important mission today. Our spies have discovered an airfield on Iwo Jima that houses a large number of Mitsubishi A6M's. Our sources tell us that there are at least two full squadrons. You all know what the presence of that many Zero's means...The Japanese are preparing an attack on the U.S. fleet. Our mission is to go in and bomb that airfield, a pre-emptive strike if you will. As always, have courage, men. This assignment will be dangerous, but I'm certain you can handle it." With those last words Commander Stark turned and walked out of the room, leaving the men to talk amongst themselves.
Stark had been at this war business for almost 40 years. He was a career man, living and breathing for the U.S.A. He was also tired. Tired of the endless fighting, the killing, the destruction. He was getting ready to retire. He wanted to go home and spend some time with June, his wife. Maybe even see the grandkids once in awhile.
Commander Stark walked out on deck and was imediately saluted by a feverish ensign. "Sir! Begging your pardon, sir, but there's a squadron of Zero's heading for the ship, sir! Should we scramble the fighters?"
Stark stared at the man for about two seconds, the shock that they had been discovered not quite sinking in. "Ensign! Tell the men to make ready battle stations! I'll get the men." With that, Stark turned to head below decks.
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Below, the men were discussing combat strategy, maneuvers, and debating the best angle of attack. One of the pilots, a young captain named Charles Edwards, was talking with his long time friend George Walthermeir about an atmospheric phenomenon he'd been experiencing while flying at higher altitudes.
"I'm telling you, George, every time I go anywhere above the cloud line, I start to see weird stuff. I keep seeing this strange glow out of the corner of my eye, but everytime I turn to look it's gone. And then, one time over Iwo, I got blinded by something...It almost looked like a star had shot right past my plane. I wouldn't tell the other guys this stuff, George, they'd think I was nuts."
"Heh, I think you might just be, Chuck. You been to see the ship's doctor about any of this stuff? Maybe it's a medical thing."
"I've already been to him...I didn't tell him everything or he'd have me drummed outta here...Or at least taken off fighter duty. He checked me for ear infections, eye infections, the works...He didn't find a thing. I'm telling you, George-" Charles' voice was cut off by the form of Commander Stark bursting through the door.
"Scramble, men! Those A6M's I told you about? They're here! We've got waves coming from both directions! Move, move, move!"
The pilots zipped up their jumpsuits, pulled on the rest of their gear and ran for the flight deck.
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Far overhead, two black clouds of Japanese fighters tore through the sky towards the ship. The crewmen manning the anit-aircraft guns turned their turrets into position, preparing for the initial volley from the Zero's. The fighter pilots mounted their planes and started their engines, taking off in sequence. Crewmen ran everywhere, making their way to battle stations.
Charles checked his instruments, making sure everything was in working order, then it was his turn to take off. Just as his wheels left the ship at the end of the deck, he was once again momentarily blinded by a strange blue light. It faded quickly, however, and he shot into the sky. His plane handled beautifully, streaking into formation with the rest of the squadron. George came in a second later, giving Charles the "thumbs-up" from his own cockpit.
The Japanese planes were approaching rapidly, pinning them in from all sides. The AA guns on the ship's deck had begun firing, peppering the sky with great, black clouds. The squadron of F6F's flew towards the A6M's coming up behind the carrier. Formation broke as they approached. Charles was within range and let loose a volley, his tracers streaking towards a Zero. His wingmen did likewise, a hail of bullets descending on the Japanese planes. Several were hit, but only two exploded.
The Japanese fired back, their bullets slamming into the Allied planes. The man on Charles' right never had a chance. His plane burst into flames, the pieces crashing into the Pacific Ocean far below. Fighting with ferver now, the Allied pilots soared through the clouds, peppering the Zero's from all sides, their powerful engines outmaneuvering the Japanese planes.
Five more Zero's went down, but the Allies had also lost two more wingmen. The battle raged, the pounding of the AA guns relentless behind them. Most of the second Zero squadron had been cut up by the guns, but several had managed to slip through, firing on the ship briefly before passing it to engage the F6F's.
Suddenly, Charles and George found themselves cut off and outnumbered, Zero's closing in from all sides...
(More to come)