Aviator's Reward

Synopsis: The founder of an aerospace company discovers that the dragoness who is his personal transport wants to be more than just that.

This story is self-contained and can be read alone. (7,045 words)

*****

Ian Caedry was upset when he left the restaurant. His face was carefully held in a neutral expression, but the fast, impatient pace of his steps revealed his agitation.

When Ian walked quickly, his support staff also walked quickly to keep up. Two bodyguards escorted him, keeping a respectful (but secure) distance around the aviation tycoon. A pair of personal assistants trailed just beside the man himself, already scribbling in their notebooks as he spoke to them in quiet tones.

Rafale watched as her owner strode rapidly towards her. As Ian approached, the two dragons sitting beside Rafale smoothly rose to standing positions. They were dragons like her, and yet they were very different. Rafale was a rainbow swiftwing—a breed that was usually used as pets or as racers. Her body was swift and sleek, and her scales were an elegant green. Built for speed, she could only carry one human's weight, but that one human was important indeed.

In comparison, the other two dragons were dusky inimicals—they too were built for speed, but in an altogether different way. Their scales were dark as night, and even their footsteps seemed quiet. Yet though stealthy, their real strength was in their aerial speed and manoeuvrability—dusky inimicals were usually used as air-superiority fighters in the military. They were lightweight enough to keep pace with a racing dragon (as long as she didn't sprint), but if it came to a fight, there were only a few types of dragon that could hope to outfly a dusky inimical. Ian didn't just have human bodyguards; he was protected by dragons as well, which was appropriate given his work.

Rafale stood up and stretched her legs, then she crouched back down to let Ian climb onto her back. "Had a good dinner?" she asked.

"No I did not. Let's go home." Ian climbed into the saddle and strapped in his legs. He buttoned up his blazer so it wouldn't flap in the wind—though he was wearing business attire, it was a modified suit which was flexible enough that he could easily ride a dragon. His bodyguards were attired in the same way, and they too climbed onto the dusky inimicals, as did Ian's personal assistants. But Ian was the only person who got to ride on Rafale, and that was a point of pride for her.

"Home it is." Rafale spread her wings open, but one of the bodyguard dragons was the first to leap into the air. This was standard protocol. Rafale was never the first to land or the first to takeoff—such risks were reserved for those whose job it was to handle them.

Rafale jumped into the air next, followed quickly by the second dusky inimical. Flying in a tight formation, the three dragons gained altitude and turned, heading towards home. Rafale pumped her wings hard, feeling the strain in her muscles as she climbed higher in the darkening sky. The evening air was smooth and cool against her wings, but Ian's hand was warm when he patted her neck. "Go fast..." he told her, and the dragoness sped up her wingbeats, striving to obey.

Flying faster meant that the noise of the rushing wind would drown out any chance of conversation, but that had probably been Ian's intention. Rafale knew her owner better than anyone else, and she could see that something had upset him. How strange—perhaps his working dinner appointment had not been as productive as expected.

The two dusky inimicals were in standard formation for a fighter escort—one on each of Rafale's sides, diagonally just ahead and just behind. As she sped up her flight, they also picked up their speed to match her pace.

Their journey home would take them across state borders. Ian's dinner meeting had been in Bridgeport, Connecticut, and now they were returning towards New York, New York. On foot this journey would have taken a full day, and even by motorized car this trip would have taken at least four hours, but by wing they covered in it just a single hour. Such rapid transit was but one of the advantages of draconic flight capability, and it was on these concepts which Ian had founded his company years ago.

The sun had set fully by the time they were approaching the Big Apple, but electric lighting kept the city's distinctive skyline fully visible, illuminating the tapering skyscrapers with their pointed spires. Over the decades, zoning laws had steered architecture in a unique, noticeable fashion—the buildings were setback in steps, growing thinner towards their higher floors. This served several purposes—it kept streets from feeling too compact and being cast into shadow, but more importantly it gave dragons the space to takeoff and land down at street level.

Descending from cruising altitude, the three dragons flew across the city centre. Dozens of other dragons could be seen crisscrossing the airspace, carrying passengers or cargo—though it was impossible to see this small detail from afar, Rafale knew that most of them were wearing flight harnesses marked with the logo of Caedry Aerospace. They were Ian's dragons, just as she was.

Ian's personal home was a penthouse apartment, in the residential tower which was just next-door to Caedry Aerospace Group's headquarters. Rafale landed smoothly, bending her legs as she gently touched down on the skyscraper's roof. Unstrapping his leg restraints, Ian slipped off her back and headed towards the stairwell leading down into the building. Walking at his brisk pace, he paused in the corridor for a few seconds to bid good night to his personal assistants and bodyguards. In a way, Rafale reflected, Ian owned them all too.

A human-to-human employment contract was very different compared to the chattel ownership which humans could hold over dragons, yet the lives of Ian's closest support staff revolved entirely around the business and schedule of the aerospace tycoon. When Ian woke up in the morning, his personal assistants would already have his breakfast prepared and scheduled out his day's meetings and appointments, while a rotating team of bodyguards would always be nearby to keep him protected. All the support staff lived right here as well—Ian's apartment was the majority of this upper level, but there were also separate rooms for his support staff. They were almost like a family, albeit a family which was bound by a different sort of relationship—bound by their jobs and loyalty, instead of by blood.

Yet Ian still treated his staff like family. He knew them all by name, even the two dusky inimicals who served as aerial bodyguards. Many humans treated dragons as lower forms of life, seeing them as dumb animals or beasts of burden, but not Ian Caedry.

As far as Rafale knew, no other human understood dragons as well as Ian did. He knew how they flew, so he could plan optimal air routes and efficient logistics. Just as importantly, he knew how their minds worked, so his company could keep their dragons motivated and content. This much and more—everything else which had helped him revolutionize the aerospace industry, bringing him all his influence and wealth.

But when Ian said goodnight to his bodyguards and personal assistants, he didn't bother to give this same farewell greeting to Rafale—he didn't need to. As Ian walked through his apartment door, Rafale followed quietly behind him. Technically she was just his personal transport—a racing dragon whose egg he'd purchased back in the earlier days of his company—but she was also his pet.

Rafale had her own living quarters down the corridor, but she hardly ever used that room. The bed there was large and comfortable, but she much preferred sleeping on the carpeted floor of Ian's bedroom. Sleeping alone made her feel lonely, and she was fairly certain that she wasn't the only one who felt that way.

--

Ian flung his briefcase onto his desk before helping Rafale to remove her saddle. With the dragoness relieved of her flight harness, Ian shrugged out of his blazer. He undid his shoelaces and left his shoes beside his bedroom door. Walking back to his desk, he opened up his briefcase and looked through his documents. "No paperwork to be done tonight—that's a rare occasion. I ought to celebrate by getting a good night's sleep. What a day, what a day!"

Rafale took Ian's blazer in her jaws and carefully hung it up on a hook on the wall. Using the tip of her tail, she nudged Ian's shoes until they were neatly lined up together. "Oh?" she prompted.

"No, actually the day was fine. It was the evening which was the problem," Ian continued. He undid his belt buckle and began unbuttoning his shirt. As he continued removing his clothing, he strolled into the bathroom attached to his bedroom. He didn't bother to shut the bathroom door, though he did draw the shower curtain. "That dinner was...trying in a most unexpected manner."

Rafale sat down on her haunches, waiting just outside the shower. While her owner cleaned himself, she began carefully licking her scales clean. For a dragon, using water and soap to wash was a rare event as the harsh detergent chemicals were more damaging to dragon scales than to human skin.

"Did that woman not agree to vote for your proposal?" Rafale asked. It wasn't her business to know about Ian's business, but he rarely bothered to hide things from her. She'd known that Ian (and his company) had been lobbying for a particular law to be enacted, and his dinner today was with some important politician whose support they needed.

"No, no. Congresswoman Parker was happy to support the bill. And why wouldn't she be? The Free Skies Act will benefit the whole country, of course, but the eastern seaboard will see a huge economic boom once dragons regularly start flying transatlantic to Europe. With that sort of support, her re-election next year will be a given. She'll vote for the bill. Deregulation is only logical."

"So then why are you bothered?" Rafale asked.

"I'm not bothered!" Ian replied, but his response came too fast and too snappy. The flow of water in the shower was cut off, and Ian grabbed a towel to dry himself. He was done after just a couple of minutes; he had never been fond of wasting time enjoying a relaxing shower. "I'm just... It's difficult to explain. Parker—Congresswoman Parker wasn't...she was... I don't know if you'll understand."

It was rare to hear Ian unsure of what to say, so Rafale said nothing. Sometimes saying nothing was the best way to get people to continue talking. All she needed to do was listen.

Pulling on a loose shirt and a pair of shorts, Ian left the bathroom and went back to his bedroom. "I shouldn't even be talking about it. If I knew what was best for everyone involved, I'd keep my mouth shut and forget it ever happened."

Rafale had been following her owner, but now her tail swished in agitation. Ian sounded intimidated! How dare this Parker woman make Ian so upset? It made Rafale want to grab Ian and protectively warp her wings around him. "She threatened you!?"

Ian shook his head and snorted. "No, of course not. She acted in a manner which was...unbecoming of someone in her position."

"You mean she did something embarrassing?"

"Not like that." Ian sighed. He turned to stare directly at the dragoness who was his pet, and somehow also the person he could be most honest with. "Rafale, promise me you won't talk about this to anyone else. It's really not something I can afford to have even the slightest rumours about."

Without hesitation, Rafale agreed. "I promise."

"Alright. I trust you." Ian sat down on his bed and leaned back against the headboard. He crossed his arms. "Then...do you know what a conflict of interest is?"

Rafale flopped onto the bed beside him, and laid her head in his lap. The green-scaled dragoness nodded, then shook her head, then nodded again.

Ian chuckled. "Hah. Basically it means when someone has two conflicting interests. For example, if a lawyer is hired by two companies who are both suing each other, he has a conflict of interest because he is supposed to act in the best interests of his clients, but now he can't possibly act in both of his two clients' best interests because they are suing each other, so their interests are conflicted. It's when your professional responsibilities are conflicted against your personal interests."

"And this Parker woman is...conflicted?" Rafale asked, cocking her head as she thought through this idea.

"Congresswoman Parker is very conflicted, or at least she would be, and I would be too, if I had been fool enough to let my bodily instincts make irrational decisions," Ian muttered. He placed a hand on Rafale's head and stroked her scales. "How shall I phrase this? She...ah...made it amply clear with her physical actions and words that she was willing to sleep with me, if I was so inclined."

Just as she'd been starting to relax, Rafale felt her claws slide out of her paws. Irrationally she felt a surge of jealously towards this woman who'd try to make sexual advances on her owner, but she tried to supress her own emotions. "But you were not inclined?"

"No, I was not! The whole idea was just...wrong," Ian insisted.

"Why? Did you find her body unpleasant?"

"Honestly, no. Parker is in fantastic shape—she looks ten years younger than her real age. We went to college together, so I know she's the same age as me—forty-five." Ian chuckled again. "Just the right age to be having a midlife crisis, I suppose."

"So then if you found Parker attractive, it was just your professionalism which stopped you from mating with her?" Rafale was now feeling a conflict of her own—she shouldn't have been asking these things to her owner, and yet she had to know. Even the mental image of Ian mating with someone else...it made her upset in a way it shouldn't have.

Ian didn't appear to notice Rafale's slight agitation. He kept stroking her neck, patting her scales. "Professionalism? Certainly there was that! But even if I were to ignore the obvious conflict of interest between me, the CEO of an aviation group lobbying congress to pass a bill, and her, a congresswoman who ought to be impartially considering that bill for the good of the American people, it would still be morally wrong because Parker is married and has kids! Can you just imagine the scandal that would be? For her own sake, I hope this was just a one-off incident where she'd had too much wine."

"Ah." Rafale raised her head and licked at her owner's face, making him chuckle again. "Would it help if I told you that you did the right thing? Because you did the right thing."

"Thanks. You're a really good listener, you know that? Sometimes I think you're the only person I'm completely, totally honest with," Ian said.

Rafale felt a warm surge of pride on hearing this compliment. "Listening to someone like you is easy! I'd do anything for you if you asked. Anything. I...I think I love you." The words slipped out of her mouth without any forethought or planning—a confession that came from her heart.

Ian smiled warmly, but he didn't seem to grasp what Rafale had meant. "You're a good dragoness, Rafale. No, more than that—you're a good friend. Thanks for listening, because sometimes I really do wonder if I'm doing the right thing." He gestured towards his bedroom wall, where a large map was pasted. All across the map were crisscrossing flight routes.

"Look at all this!" Ian murmured, and Rafale already knew what he was going to say. She'd heard him say it all before, yet hearing his words never got old. Ian was a natural speaker, with a commanding voice when he wanted it. "That's the logistics and transport network of Caedry Aerospace Group. Look at all of it. The busy airport hubs where thousands of dragons fly in and out every day, crowding up the skyways at all hours—Memphis, Los Angeles, Miami, New York! What would those cities be without us?

"But dragons didn't need airports—they can just takeoff and land in remote, semi-developed regions, not even requiring the paved roads that motorized cars demand, or the costly tracks that trains need. No region in the country left behind—our flight routes link cities, towns, and almost every settlement across this great nation. We helped build it all."

Ian's voice lightened slightly, losing that commanding tone but sounding more personal—more intimate, and just as persuasive as before. "When I was young I saw what dragons could do, and I just knew that they were the future of transport. All those motorized cars spewing exhaust everywhere, requiring the demolition of whole neighbourhoods to build freeways—I knew that couldn't be right. There were all these plans for railroads and freeways everywhere, but I knew there was an easier way. A simpler way...and a better way."

Rafale felt Ian stroke her head, ruffling her short neck crest. She was enthralled with Ian's words, as she always was. "All the analysts and investors claimed that dragons were as antiquated as horses. They told me that they had done their calculations, and motor cars would become the dominant form of transport in the country, then the world. Machines were the future. They all said that dragons were just animals—hard to handle, lazy, and disobedient! Ha! I said otherwise, and now the analysts beg me to tell them where to put their money.

"Now we have twenty thousand dragons flying around the country. Everywhere you go, wherever you see humans, you see dragons. Delivering postal mail, packages, medical supplies, coal, food..." Ian halted mid-speech. "Speaking of food—you've eaten dinner, right?"

"Of course. That restaurant gave me dinner," Rafale replied. "It was quite tasty, although there wasn't any dessert."

"Hmm, that's good. I should have checked you'd eaten before asking you to fly us home. Sorry. I was just...distracted by all that silliness with Congresswoman Parker. Which brings me back to the point of all my rambling—I've always had a vision of this industry, with dragons flying air routes all across the country, and even between countries. I knew it could be done, and I knew I had to make that a reality." Ian shook his head. "But in other things I just don't know what I need to do. Parker has always been a smart, cunning lady, even though now I'm not quite sure of her morals. We even dated once, back all those years ago in college. During dinner, she said some things about me that I just... I don't know."

"What did she say? Did she insult you?" Rafale curled her tail around Ian's leg affectionately, trying to reassure him, not that he looked like he needed reassuring.

"No, she didn't insult me. Not intentionally, at least. We just were catching up on all that had happened to us over the years—her becoming a politician, me becoming a businessman. And then she started talking about how I was still a bachelor, how I hadn't bothered to start a family or even find a partner—as if that were some grievous character flaw. But is it? I'm always surrounded by people, and I'm not lonely—isn't that what matters? I've got allies, business partners, colleagues, even friends. And you too, of course. I've got a pet dragoness who flies races."

"Wrong! I think you meant to say—a pet dragoness who wins races." Rafale nipped at Ian's fingers, but her playfulness belied the serious way she considered her owner's words. She knew very little about business, but she'd spent so much time around Ian that she knew a few things about Caedry Aerospace Group's upper management. Ian wasn't some lone visionary who had come to success all alone—certainly he was smart and hardworking, but he had accomplished his lofty goals by building a network of similar people who worked for and with him.