The age of machines had taken the ground.
Now, it reached for the sky.
The First Raid
It came without warning.
At 03:14 on August 19, 1914, a formation of five German Albatros biplanes crossed into northern France under moonlight. Each carried two incendiary bombs and a mounted Spandau machine gun.
Their target: the rail yard outside Rouen, where unmarked steel shipments passed from Belgium into Normandy.
The raid lasted less than six minutes.
But the damage was immense—four wagons destroyed, six workers killed, and two Sanglier Mk IV components reduced to ash.
Vera read the coded report in silence.
"They found us. Or someone told them where to look."
Vera's Challenge
By morning, Vera had relocated to the makeshift Aeronautics Hangar built inside an abandoned abbey northeast of Brussels. The locals called her l'ingénieure du vent—the engineer of wind.
She took with her a team of five:
Marc Fournier, a former glider designer from Toulouse
Ilse Brenner, a German expat and engine whisperer
David Van Rook, a half-Dutch balloon pilot
Agnes Corbeau, Vera's former apprentice in Strasbourg
Bruno, now managing heavy design tolerances for vertical stress
Together, they began designing a counter to the biplane.
But Vera wasn't satisfied with just defense.
"I want something that hunts."
Project Faucon
She named it Faucon—the Falcon.
A revolutionary idea: a lightweight armored aerial unit that could intercept, disrupt, and outlast conventional dogfighters.
It would have:
Reinforced cockpit armor (curved steel composite)
A forward-facing autocannon, nose-mounted
Double tail rudders for agility
And hydraulic recoil compensators
The problem?
No such engine existed to power it—yet.
"We need 800 horsepower in a 300 kg block," Bruno complained.
"Then make one," Vera replied. "Or build two and bolt them together."
The Spark and the Spy
Back in Normandy, Emil reviewed the transport schedules when Henriette entered, lips pressed.
"Another intercepted cable."
"What now?"
"It's coded. But the signature… it's one of ours."
She laid it down.
A cipher burst matched to a machine used only by Marc Fournier.
Vera's lead designer.
"He's passing details of the Faucon to Berlin," Henriette said. "Probably sold out when the Rouen attack failed to cripple us."
Emil nodded once.
Then reached for his coat.
"I'll deal with it."
The Interrogation at the Abbey
Emil arrived at the abbey at dusk. Vera was in the field, testing pitch stabilizers.
Marc was in the workroom, inspecting wing mounts.
He didn't notice Emil until it was too late.
"I should've expected you," Marc said, quietly.
"Why?" Emil asked.
"Because you're not blind. Or stupid."
"But you are."
Marc chuckled.
"You think you can outrun governments forever? You've made yourself an enemy of France, Germany, and soon Britain. All because you believe war can be ethical."
"No," Emil said. "Because I believe it can be better."
"We all believe things when the bombs fall."
"Where is the leak going?"
"Kassel. Through Antwerp."
Emil nodded.
"Then you'll never see Antwerp again."
Marc lunged—too late. Agnes struck him from behind with a torque wrench.
He went down. Hard.
A Trial Without a Court
That night, Vera and Emil sat across from each other in the abbey's courtyard.
Marc was bound, unconscious, guarded by Van Rook.
Bruno stared at the stars.
"We can't send him to Paris. He'll just walk."
"We can't kill him," Vera said. "That makes us no better than them."
"What do we do then?" Bruno asked. "Let him go and hope he stops selling us for silver?"
Emil was quiet.
Then he stood.
"We exile him."
"To where?" Vera asked.
"To the world. With a warning."
He walked to Marc, kneeled beside him, and whispered:
"Tell Berlin we're not just building machines. We're building ideas. And they're spreading faster than fire."
Back to the Build
With Marc gone, Agnes took over wing engineering. Ilse rebuilt the twin engine design from scratch, using modified marine turbines.
After sixteen failed starts, Vera and David tested the first Faucon prototype.
It lifted.
It flew.
It looped.
And when it landed, Vera wept.
"It's not perfect," David said. "But it can dance."
"That's all we need," Vera replied.
The First Flight
Two weeks later, a Faucon flew over German lines at Dixmude.
It didn't bomb.
It didn't strafe.
It simply appeared—gleaming, whirling, untouchable—and vanished.
German pilots wrote of it in panic:
"The sky has changed. They hunt us now."