Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
Pip rocked from her heels to her toes as she shaded her eyes and peered upward at the black silhouettes of aeroplanes against the clear blue skies.
The Half-Breed Squadron was finally coming home.
“Is that them?”
Pip jumped at the voice and turned to the tall young woman with long red-gold hair flowing around her shoulders and over the hilts of the twin swords sheathed across her back. “Yes. Finally.”
Fieran’s sister Adry grinned, her stance relaxing as she, too, peered upward. She wore the evergreen uniform of the Tarenhieli Army, while lieutenant’s stripes marked her shoulders. “They’re going to be all noble and land last, aren’t they?”
“Yes.” Pip resisted the urge to sigh as two of the aeroplanes circled down before lining up on the airfield. Unless there were extenuating circumstances, Fieran always waited to land until all his pilots were safely on the ground.
She and Adry waited at the edge of the airfield, standing to one side of the large hangar doors to avoid blocking them as the ground crew wheeled the returned aeroplanes inside.
As the flyboys and flygirls climbed from their aeroplanes and entered the hangar, Pip waved greetings to them, sharing a few longer, shouted greetings with Lije, Stickyfingers, Tiny, and Aylia, although none of them lingered.
They were too intent on heading straight to the showers.
Not that she blamed them. She wasn’t about to get too close to any of them.
At last, the final two aeroplanes circled down from above, gliding to gentle landings, the aeroplanes going from graceful warbirds to bumping, unwieldy contraptions as they rolled to a halt before the hangar.
“Merrik!” Adry dashed forward, leaping onto the toe step in the side of the aeroplane before it had fully stopped.
Pip followed much more slowly, waiting for Fieran’s aeroplane to stop before she approached. She might be half-elf, but she hadn’t inherited the extreme athleticism from her elven side that Adry had from hers.
Fieran yanked off his flight cap and goggles before he scrambled out of the aeroplane. As he turned, his gaze landed on her, that broad grin spreading on his face and sparkling in his bright blue eyes.
“Fieran!” Pip flung herself into his arms, her feet lifting from the ground as he wrapped his arms around her.
Then he kissed her, and Pip clung to him as she kissed him back. For the first few heartbeats, she was too happy to have him back to pay attention to anything else. But then she grew more aware of just how in need of a shower he was, his hair greasy against her fingers.
She broke off the kiss, propping herself up on her elbows on his chest, her feet still dangling as he gripped her around the waist. “You’re gross.”
“Too gross for kissing?” Fieran’s grin turned lopsided.
“Yeah.” She grimaced and tried to take shallow breaths. “Sorry. No more kissing until you’ve had a shower.”
“Fine, fine.” He lowered her back to the ground and took a step away. He waved at where Merrik was climbing down, Adry stepping back into his arms as soon as he had both feet—left foot and right prosthetic foot—firmly on the ground. “The lack of showers doesn’t seem to be bothering them.”
“I saw Adry when she returned from her week at the front. I think her standards for cleanliness have been broken.” Pip shuddered just thinking about it.
Life as a mechanic behind the lines was far preferable to the life of frontline troops.
She got clean sheets and regular showers.
Not a week of living in mud. Even with the troll and elven warriors firming up the ground with both stone and roots, the repeated thunderstorms and the two armies churning up the ground had created more mud than could be contained.
“These look good on you.” Fieran plucked at one of her shoulders, where bars decorated her jumpsuit coveralls.
“Thanks. I’m still getting used to them.” She tugged on the green coveralls, which were her official day uniform. She had a dress uniform and everything in her locker in the barracks.
Shortly after the Wall had come down, the Army made the decision to turn her unit from the civilian contractor Mechanics Auxiliaries to an official army unit, the Ordnance Corps.
Since she’d volunteered and had a degree from Hanford University, she’d been listed as an officer. More than that, she’d been bumped straight to captain, given that she’d served from the beginning of the war and that she was already considered the commander of her unit.
Her brother Mak had been made a sergeant while the latest mechanics recruits that now served under her and her original team of mechanics had been drafted as privates.
Even after two weeks, she wasn’t quite used to thinking of herself as a captain in the Tarenhieli Army, thanks to her Tarenhieli citizenship, on official detachment to the Alliance Army.
Thankfully, she had been made an officer, and she wasn’t under Fieran’s direct command. As of yet, there wasn’t anything in Alliance military regulations to bar them from courting.
Given how invested Fieran’s family was in their relationship, she suspected that if any such regulation got handed down, it would include a clause to grandfather in any relationships formed prior to the regulation.
Although, she probably was supposed to greet Fieran with a salute instead of a kiss. Somehow, she didn’t think he would report her for insubordination.
Adry and Merrik had finally stopped kissing, and the two of them ambled past Fieran and Pip, hand-in-hand. Merrik’s gait was only slightly hitched.
Adry gave Fieran a wave as they passed. Fieran waved back.
Fieran set off for the hangar, his flight cap and goggles dangling from one hand. “Is my dacha back as well?”
He held out his free hand, and Pip took it, although she still left plenty of space between the two of them.
“Yes.” Not that Pip had sought Prince Farrendel out. She could talk with Adry easily enough, even if Adry was far more intimidating than Louise. But Prince Farrendel was another matter. “I’m surprised he isn’t waiting here to greet you.”
With three warriors of the magic of the ancient kings at Fort Defense, they had been rotating in pairs through one-week stints at the front lines to avoid taxing any warrior too much.
Adry and Prince Farrendel had just completed a week of fighting, pushing the Mongavarian troops back each day.
Now King Rharreth and Prince Rhohen had taken over at the front, giving Adry and Prince Farrendel a week to rest at Fort Defense before they returned.
While King Rharreth didn’t have the magic of the ancient kings, he was Rhohen’s dacha, and he had incredibly strong troll magic, wielding both ice and stone.
“He’s probably waiting to greet me until after I’ve had a shower.” Fieran grinned again as they stepped into the hangar.
“Wise of him.” Pip dared get close enough to Fieran to bump his arm with hers. The hangar had its own lingering odor of grease and gunpowder, sunbaked metal and equally sunbaked men. Fieran was hardly the only man here who reeked of sweat.
“He is an experienced warrior.” Fieran shrugged. “He knows how it is.”
She debated for a moment before she tugged on Fieran’s hand, pulling him toward Bay 5. “I have something to show you.”
“It can’t wait until after I’ve showered?” Fieran shook his head with a chuckle as he followed her, unresisting.
“Nope. I’ve been waiting days to show you.” She kept hauling him along, dodging around an aeroplane as the ground crew rolled one of Flight B’s Defenders into Bay 4.
“But you said no kissing until I’ve showered, and this thing you want to show me sounds like it might deserve a celebratory kiss or two.” Fieran’s expression was probably his attempt at a smolder, but he was grinning too broadly to pull it off.
“Now I understand why you’re so motivated to shower first.” Pip rolled her eyes as they neared the large door separating the two hangar bays. “Well, tough. Besides, all the showers will be taken at this point. You might as well be productive while you wait.”
“I suppose you’ll just have to put up with my stink.” Fieran sniffed at his shirt and gave an exaggerated grimace.
She hurried through the door into Bay 5 and gestured at the rows upon rows of the gleaming new Althidon aeroplanes, which had arrived for the elven half of the squadron while they’d been gone. “They came!”
Lt. Rothilion and a handful of the elven pilots of Flight A—those unlucky enough not to claim a shower—meandered through the hangar bay, inspecting their new aeroplanes.
They weren’t quite as effusive as the human flyboys had been when receiving their new Defenders, but Pip caught a few of the elves gazing at their new aeroplanes with the adoration they might give to a particularly beautiful tree.
Fieran released her hand and strode to the nearest aeroplane, halting next to where Lt. Rothilion stood.
At Fieran’s approach, Lt. Rothilion grimaced, his nose flaring, and eased back a step. “You are rather malodorous.”
“Yes, yes, I know.” Fieran flapped a hand at him and rolled his eyes. “As if you elves still smell like a sparkling fresh forest even after a lack of showers and fresh laundry.”
“Of course we do. Elves are superior.” Lt. Rothilion spoke completely flat and straight-faced, that tilt to his nose giving away that he was being just as sarcastic as Fieran, in his own elven way.
Pip positioned herself upwind of the two of them. Neither of them smelled like a bouquet of roses.
Fieran sobered and studied the new aeroplane before them. “These new aeroplanes look like they will keep up with the Defenders better than your old Yshendars.”
“Yes.” Lt. Rothilion gave a sharp nod.
Fieran’s expression turned even more somber as he waved at the nose of the aeroplane. “I suppose without Pretty Face…”