The office looked just like a private eye's one in a 40's thriller : never cleaned, poky and terribly messy. With each breath, the cold tobacco smell drove her near to coughing. The airfield chairman, whose adipose scales spilled over the arm-rests of his armchair, was almost the caricature of the "lil"fat" : elegant neither physically nor in his manners, but always a smile on his face and the will to help as much as possible. He was doing the necessary paperwork for the flight, while looking a little too much at his speaker's neckline. He couldn't help himself, seeing the tight-fitting clothes she was wearing. It was not a place where you'd find a vivacious young serval woman.

  -   "Uh... sorry to say this, but you're too late for this morning. All our pilots are already in the air and won't be back 'til noon. But I won't leave you in the lurch, lemme look at the attendance sheet..."He poked about the huge paperwork maze on his desk, found and looked carefully at a coffee-stained listing. "Gotcha ! I always forget that our lil"genius never takes off in the morning cuz he's working on his proto. You can't miss him in hangar 4, his plane's the weirdest you'll ever see."

She thanked him briefly then left the damn room to go to this hangar and clear her lungs.

An odd situation for an odd birthday gift. The young woman had just come of age and her aunt sent a letter for "her little white princess", with inside a voucher for a flight initiation at the nearest airfield. The last time they met stretched back ten years, so it was quite normal that the old woman still thought of her niece as the child she was. But her memory was not so bad as she remembered well the passion of the young girl, aviation. A happy cub must have a bug and the choice is somewhat limited : planes, dinosaurs or stars... but the time drains off, enthusiasm ebbs away and we often finish by making things which do not delight us.

She did not have to look for the plane the chairman told her about : it caught her attention with its steel blue paint and rather uncommon shapes. When she came closer, she recognized the front part as a classic tandem glider cockpit, just like in her childhood memories : during a meeting, they let her board, but she was too small to look over the dash or even reach the controls. But behind the canopy, four streamlined girders were placed cross linked in a hollow cylindrical structure on the fuselage. When she put her hand on it, the coating seemed warm and slight, more like fibreglass than metal. Three steel trapezoidal petals, one on top and one on each side, were fixed by electric jacks at the rear of this annular shape, just after the identification number. But just after them, the plane seemed to have been cut in half, and she had to walk to the rear then bend down to find the control surfaces : they were inside the cylinder, forming the counterpart of the front girders. Smells of motor oil and burnt fuel irritated her muzzle while she crouched down to have a better view. The lower half of the tube's inside was rounded just as a wing contrary to the other half, simply flat. The fuselage was ended by a kind of turbojet exhaust but no air inlet was visible, except perhaps a grid located at the first third of the duct. With a length of only three meters and a "wingspan" of one and a half, this strange flying machine gave a impression of compaction. She made two steps backward and turned around it, still wondering how it could fly. A metallic nameplate riveted on the right side of the cockpit showed an enigmatic content : CW/VJ/FD/140.

  -   "Odd, isn't it ?"

Andrea let out a surprise cry and swung round on her heels, claws spread out. But the tension lapsed when she saw the cause of her outbreak : a rather young mustelid, wearing blotchy dungarees with pockets distorted by various wrenches and other tools. However, she was unable to guess his real species because his suit even covered his tail and paws . Mustelids are generally no more tall than feline children, but he seemed really small and slim even for his species. On her side, the fact she was a white serval made her pretty much taller and heavier than other girls her age. The result was that he came up to her belly button, and she preferred to crouch down to avoid him a crick in the neck. After this level making, he talked with a steady tone, looking her in the eyes instead of reading the silly joke on her T-shirt. This unusual behaviour for a male made the serval girl a little uneasy.

  -   "Oh, I'm sorry to have scared you. But you were really discrete too : I was doing simulations on the VJ200 and I didn't hear you come in. But I'm forgetting elementary politeness : my name is Feodor Shostakovitch and I suppose Eduard sent you here because he has no other pilot available for your first flight. Glad to meet you, miss..."

  -   "Call me Andrea Pyrex, I'm used to. Family from Russia, I guess ?" she said before shaking hands.

  -   "Yes, a dynasty of engineers from Vladivostok, and I'll give you kudos if you pronounce correctly my name. Hum, Pyrex... that's a interesting name : the borosilicate seems as frangible as crystal, but it can resist enemies as dangerous as intense fire or strong acids. As interesting as your fur : it comes from a deletion in the melanin synthesis gene or a embryogenesis-based lack of melanocytes, if I may ask ?"

While mumbling this speech, he was checking details on his plane. The young serval was still disbelieving.

  -   "We'll really make the flight on this ... thing ? No harm intended, it's just it hasn't got wings !"

  -   "It doesn't have normal wings, but it still obeys the laws of aerodynamics. The Coleoptera is the result of a long designing process, completed by carefully checked calculations. It takes its name from the French experimental VTOL plane, which had the same science-fiction look but a sad fate..."

He opened the canopy and made a fast cleaning of the cockpit, justifying it by the "will to not let a so genetically rare fur be stained", then went to the locker rooms while apologizing for the wait. She took the opportunity to sit down at the rear. It was a universal seat, designed to be used by all kind of bipedal creatures, but a more comfortable version than ones she had used before. The tail size setting lever moved smoothly, the legs props adjusted quietly, the leather moulded her back and thighs without complain. Even though her brain had embellished her keepsakes, the instruments panel looked like the same, the only changes being a switch under each important instrument and a small video-game joystick on the right side instead of the classical joystick between the legs. After having checked she was out of sight, she became a tot again and played with the controls, but cautiously.

When the pilot came back wearing a (still) integral flying suit, he bent forward by leaning on the canopy's edge and sent a little smile to Pyrex.

  -   "Sorry miss, but in a training glider cockpit, the instructor's seat is at the rear."

  -   "Oh, shi... I mean, sorry to have unsettled it. "The place swap was quickly done but there remained a problem. "Uh oh, there's a strong herbivore scent here. I need to mask it or I'm going to water during all the flight."

  -   "There is a "PheroStop" spray under your seat. "he said, heaving a sigh. When we live in society, we need to control our predatory instincts, he thought silently. Sometimes, Ed sends me squirrel cubs for their flight initiation because he knows I won't eat them, even they often look well fed... Thereupon he started to salivate too.

Once the canopy closed and the safety belts locked, the pilot moved his plane out of the hangar but stopped short after a ten meter roll. Before she had the time to ask the reason of this abrupt halt, he held out a preflight check-list and asked her to read it carefully.

  -   "I hope reading this long and detailed list made you realise something important. "he said when she finished her task. - "A plane isn't a flying car, piloting requires training and concentration. Mass media often give a false vision of the aviation world. I always try to correct this at the beginning."

She wanted to ask several other questions, but held them back when she looked at him in the driving mirror : ears turned back to listen the engine starting, staring carefully at the instruments, Feodor was releasing such an aura of concentration that it compelled silence. The quite bass wheezing of the turbine began to grow in scale. All of a sudden, she felt squeezed in her seat like she was in a elevator, and clung to the arms-rests when the ground slipped out of her sight : the plane was taking off vertically. After staying in steady flight during ten seconds, it began to gather speed while the engine was humming at its cruise power.

  -   "It looks like magic ! "she almost yelled, half-excited and half-scared.

  -   "Any technology, no matter how primitive, is magic to those who don't understand it. And I don't want to be mistaken for a magician."

  -   "Agreed, but I don't have the right level to understand technical explanations."

  -   "On my side, I don't want to bore you with these while you're here for fun. We'll see that after the flight."

The mid-life skunk was getting home after work, always taking the usual road as routine prescribed to his brain. He heard a turbojet noise coming up and thought the guys at the airfield might be testing an old jet plane. He went to the place once, for a warbirds meeting, and saw one of them up close... what was its name already ? Oh yes, a De Havolland Vampire. Or it was De Havilland...

When he ended racking his rusty brain, it was to notice that the jet noise had not decreased and was even louder. He looked out of the passenger's window and saw an awkward wingless plane flying as the same speed as his car. His first reflex was to jab the accelerator and run away.

Andrea was laughing heartily, sweeping her left bang which was stumbling across her face.

  -   "Did you see his face ? It was priceless ! "Her laugh stopped when she saw the serious expression of Feodor. "OK, it wasn't so funny. It's just amazing we can fly so slowly."

He set the flaps at 30°, and the air speed indicator dropped almost to zero.

  -   "If you look in the driving mirror, you can see the flow deflector's petals tilted back to the centre of the annular wing. In this position, air is deflected downward. The turbine exhaust has swung downward too to complete the effect. The control surfaces are still covered by airflow, so they remain efficient."

A slight push on the joystick and the Coleoptera bowed forward, moving at a foot-pace. A pull made the plane move back at the same small speed. Finally, it made a U-turn when Feodor acted on the rudder pedals before going over horizontal flight.

There is nothing comparable between being behind a small porthole with the airliner's wing masking the view, and under a large canopy in a small plane flying at low altitude. This day of April was sunny and made the landscape beautiful to contemplate from above, the sun's reflections on the town's lake giving the sheen of brushed silver to the calm water, and the near forest seeming to be a of green wool tainted with sap. For a moment, Feodor flew at low speed flush with the trees peaks, the resulting stem wave in the foliage making Pyrex believe they were sailing on a green sea of leafs. But he heartened her to also look at the serenity of the sky. After a short time, the plane made its way towards a small white cloud and stabilized itself at its altitude, letting the wind push them at the same speed. Closely, it looked like pure cotton candy and Pyrex had a mind to catch this delicious-looking water steam and taste it. After thirty minutes during which she guzzled images and impressions as much as possible, she was interrupted in this restful task by Feodor.

  -   "Well, now that you have enough memories in your head for years, let's go to another formative experience. I'll let you pilot a few minutes."

Very astonished, she spun round and looked at him like he was going crazy.

  -   "But... you said a little while ago that piloting is something very difficult !"

  -   "Don't worry, consider it as your first lesson. This plane has improved dual controls, so I'll able to correct your gestures easily and gently. We'll do easy things to begin with : level flight and shallow turns. Get ready... you have the controls."

For the first couple of seconds she was on the edge of panic, but nothing catastrophic happened. She focused on the instrument panel, quite complex for her, not really knowing how to act and waiting for advice from Feodor. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her sweaty paws tried to maintain the joystick in the correct position. He was talking to her with a quiet and steady voice, using appeasing works and fillips at each of her small victories. When he wanted to attract her attention to an instrument, he pressed the good switch on his instrument panel and the corresponding green light lighted up on Pyrex's one. A red light prompted her to correct the setting and act consequently.

Bit by bit, she began to calm down and breath slowly, making half unconsciously the void in her head, seeming to stare into space even though she was looking alternately to the dashboard and the shy with an extreme vigilance. The cockpit became almost soundless for her because she didn't pay any attention to the constant thud of the turbine. Now she was hearing Feodor's speech like he was talking directly into her head, but the Coleoptera was not an X-wing and the landscape under the plane had none similarity to the Hallway of Death. Finally, she felt the joystick become a little stony.

  -   "Don't worry, I just regained controls. "he said. "That makes five minutes now, enough for today. You're very good for a beginner ! The level of concentration and self-control you reached was really impressive.'

-"Only five minutes ! For me, it seemed to have lasted an eternity. "she gasped, soaked with sweat like she'd just run a marathon.

  -   "It's just you don't have training behind you. By dint of hours of flight, you'd include automatisms which relief you, and ergo you can take the most of the pleasure of flying. The most gratifying thing isn't to fly in your own plane but to "be" the plane, feel all his reactions as ours and react instantly... However, this happens quite rarely and the good mood is quite difficult to reach, even for me."

  -   "I see what you mean. Besides, something strange occurred at the end : I didn't fell my legs, they weren't numb but like they was melted into the seat... "She had difficulties finding the right words to express what happened. "When the plane yawed a little, I reacted nearly instantly before even feeling the jerk in my legs. In fact, it was... a little like what you said."

In answer, Feodor gave her a long look where astonishment mingled with sincere admiration. The rest of the flight took place in silence, except a short radio exchange during the approach to the airfield. Once landed, they got out of the cockpit and made a few steps to lose their stiffness. He wanted to start right now demystifying his aircraft, but Pyrex had misgivings about her capabilities to understand his explanations.

He reassured her : no maths, no complex physics, just logic and analogies.

CW is for Channelled Wings : only the lower half of the annular structure have a wing profile and the rounded side is always turned upward, so the lift force is turned upward. The upper half forms a duct and channels the airflow. On the first prototype, a propeller was installed at the rear of the duct, the airflow speed and the lift force depended only of the engine power.

VJ is for Venturi Jet. Do you know the shape of a venturi ? Well, it's a constriction in a duct with a secondary pipe connected at the level of the smallest section. When you throw air in the main duct, an aspiration is induced in the secondary duct. The venturi jet works by inverting this principle : the turbine creates a aspiration by sucking up air (look, the grid is the turbine inlet) and a airflow is generated in the annular wing, giving thrust if exit speed is greater than entrance speed. The VJ replaced the former propeller because of its greater efficiency and flight range. I could have brought you near to the speed of sound but we'll reserve the speed feeling for the next flights, if you're still interested...

Well, FD means Flow Deflectors but I already told you the functioning principle. And 140 is in hp the power of the old "Marboré" turbine installed in the Coleoptera.

Pyrex stood the pace and listened carefully, wanting to reward his patience. Noticing how the mustelid seemed happy to explain to her the mysteries of his flying machine, given the frantic speed his tail was wagging, she let go off an appreciative wheezing.

  -   "Wow, impressive ! I hope you've patented all these inventions, it would be so bad to not be rewarded for all this work."

  -   "Don't be mistaken about me ! I'm not an inventor, just an ideas assembler. Channelled wings come from Willard Custer's work, venturi jet's principle from a French fluid mechanics theoretician (I never remember his name), the flow deflector's too simple to be an innovation, I bought the turbine on E-bay from..."

The lesson was interrupted by a loud gurgling from Pyrex.

  -   "Noon's largely gone, and I'm starving. "she said, rubbing her flat belly.

  -   "Mom cooks very well feral squirrel entrails with bolognaise, but always makes twice too much. Do you want some ?"

  -   "Thanks but no thanks, it's not my favourite species for meat. But I saw a small dinner at the airfield. I'd invite you, it's the least I could do after this wonderful flight."

Feodor seemed to be at a loss. He took time before giving a hesitating answer.

  -   "Hum... Sorry, but I'd rather decline your invitation. The airfield's dinner is always... filled with smoke and I'm quite sensitive to this."

  -   "If you prefer, I can buy a take away menu and we'll eat outside. I owe you this meal at least, you deserve it."

These arguments seemed to have overcome his reluctance. But while they were making their way towards the small restaurant, he stopped suddenly and began to turn pale. She heard him mutter something like "Drat ! They let the bar's picture window open again."

  -   "It's a problem ? "she asked.

  -   "For me, it could be. I may walk away.'

At this moment, the windsock seethed and a gust of wind whipped their faces. It also brought a bitter smell, that Pyrex recognized as cheap booze's one while feeling her throat inflame, like during the last drinking contest. But her attention was caught by a more dramatic event : Feodor was stricken with a violent bout of coughing and seemed to suffocate. Weighing up the seriousness of the situation, she took him in her arms and strayed quickly from the dangerous zone. Once returned to the hangar 4, she dropped him off delicately in a chair near the entrance then stayed near him, worried. He was keeping his eyes half closed, having a hissing breath while the coughing progressively decreased.

  -   "Mr. Sto... Feodor, are you okay ? Do you fell better ?"

  -   "Thanks for your help. "he turned his head and gave her a little smile. "I have... I have a strong alcohol allergy. Tipple vapours have the same effect on me as cigarette smoke, though I prefer not tell this to friends the first time... - "he heaved a sigh, and the unintentional reminder of this painful episode made all trace of happiness melt away from his face. "It's a mercy that he knew first-aid."

  -   "I'm sorry to have brought you near a dangerous zone, ignoring your reluctances."

  -   "It's not you, it's just Marvin who doesn't give a damn about my health problems. "He stood up and pointed at a small cabin with a platform, suspended against the wall at the main girder of the hangar. "We still have the squirrel entrails option."

He climbed the ladder before Pyrex, as a gentleman who wouldn't be tempted to look under her tail. Once the door unlocked, he invited her to enter "his little rusty nest "while he was changing his clothes in the outhouse. At first glance, it looked like a doll house because of the furniture height, adapted for mustelids and not for felines. She retailed the small piece : even though the windows were a little rusty, on the whole was clean and the quite Spartan fitting was consistent with the smallness of this unusual studio flat. Too bad that the windows looked out over the inside of the hangar and not the outside, it would be great. A nice smell leads her to a cooking-pot placed on the small electric hotplate. Notifying the large size of the pot, she lifted up the lid and goggled at the amount of spaghetti-like food, which came near to the brim. "I won't be able to eat half of that. "she said "How can he be so slim with all this food ?"

  -   "Now then ! It smells good, isn't it ? "said the mustelid when he came back. "And you're lucky : the more times you reheat this kind of dish, the better it is."

For a change, Feodor wore non-integral casual clothes, his brown fluffy tail and the yellowish throat fur stuck out of his shirt signalled unequivocally his status of pine marten. Without delay, he bustled about cooking and laying table, doing ten things at once without loosing his footing, and politely refusing her help arguing that "a guest doesn't have to prepare the meal she's invited to". The table laid, Pyrex sat cross-legged on a cushion while he ladled her out a plateful of smoky and delicious-smelling food, before dishing himself the same large load of calories and sitting down.

  -   "Enjoy your meal !"

  -   "Thanks ! "she answered heartily.