Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
Fieran wandered into the hangar, dodging around the bustle of the ground crew returning the aeroplanes to their places.
“Going almost too well.” Pip checked off something on her clipboard. “The mechanics for the Fighting Second have nearly all of their aeroplanes rigged, and I’m just doing the final checks for them. But they have things well in hand. Honestly, they don’t need me to check their work.”
The military command had waited for only the most cursory of tests by Fieran to give approval to move forward with protecting all the fighter aeroplanes.
Pip trained both the mechanics under her and those in the other squadrons on how to install the protective shield system, and the other mechanics had done most of the work.
She hadn’t even had to create the wire and aluminum shielding since several dwarves with metal magic had infused their magic into the metal similarly enough to Pip’s version to function the same way.
“Glad it’s going smoothly.” Since Pip was working, Fieran kept his hands firmly clasped behind his back instead of pulling her close. This wasn’t the time for distractions.
“The Wardogs will have their aeroplanes rigged within a day or two.” Tucking the clipboard under her arm, Pip climbed onto a ladder and peered into the engine compartment.
“The bomber squadrons are coming up with a spare aeroplane that I can experiment with to figure out how to rig a shield over it.”
“Want help?” Fieran grinned, rocking back on his heels to keep himself from leaning closer to the ladder.
“Always.” Pip shut the hatch for the engine compartment and jotted a few notes on her clipboard. After climbing down the ladder, she pointed at it. “You can carry that for me.”
Fieran’s grin widened before he followed her, toting the ladder, as she made her way to the next aeroplane needing the final check.
“Maj. Laesornysh.” A clipped, tenor voice called from behind him.
Fieran turned and found Lt. Busher, Col. Dentley’s adjutant, standing at attention there with his customary clipboard and crisply ironed uniform. “Yes?”
“Col. Dentley requests that you, Lt. Rothilion, and Lt. Loiatir report to his office, sir.” Lt. Busher’s starched posture and blank expression gave away nothing.
“We’ll be there shortly.” Fieran waited for Lt. Busher to spin on a heel and march away before he sighed and glanced up at Pip. “I guess I’d better round up Rothilion and Merrik.”
Pip halted in her inspection, worrying her lower lip as she peered down at him. “Do you think everything is all right?”
“Hopefully. I can’t think of anything I’ve done wrong lately.” Fieran shrugged and pushed away from the ladder.
After winding his way back through the massive nested hangar, he located Rothilion in Bay 5, overseeing the elves as they put the finishing touches on painting the nose art on their new aeroplanes.
Only a few minutes later, the two of them fetched Merrik.
He’d been keeping an eye on the flyboys and flygirls where they’d been indulging in their latest obsession: learning wood carving from Mak and Lije.
So far, only three of the flyboys had had to report to the hangar’s elven medic with sliced hands.
Adry, enjoying her last day before she and Dacha returned to the front, had joined the wood carving lesson with gusto. Merrik whispered to her before he pushed to his feet from where he’d been sitting on a crate.
At least this was an improvement over the sourdough takeover. And better than the group lockpicking session Stickyfingers had taught a few days ago. They’d be fine.
Leaving Mak in charge of making sure no one bled out, Fieran, Merrik, and Rothilion strode back through the hangar, walking all the way to Bay 12, where Col. Dentley had set up an office.
The table in the center of the space was covered in charts and maps while a radio sat in one corner, manned at all times.
Several lieutenants hurried in and out as Col.
Dentley coordinated with both of the bomber squadrons and with headquarters.
Long gone were the days when this room was mostly empty.
Fieran stood at attention before Col. Dentley’s desk. “Sir.”
Col. Dentley motioned for the three of them to stand at ease, even as he dismissed the rest of the bustle from the office.
Once the door was shut, Col. Dentley slid a piece of paper across the desk toward Fieran.
“The front lines have pushed far enough into Mongavaria that they can no longer be effectively supported in the air from Fort Defense. Headquarters, too, has deemed Fort Defense too far behind the lines now. A new operations base is being set up in one of the captured Mongavarian towns, and command has requested that I assign one squadron to move forward. Since you and your squadron have proved how capable you are at working independently, I’m assigning the Half-Breed Squadron to this mission.
The Wardogs and Fighting Second will remain here to continue providing escort to the bomber squadrons. ”
“Thank you, sir.” Fieran picked up the official orders.
It was the station he would have picked, if given the chance.
Escorting the bombers was becoming rather boring lately, as Mongavaria struggled to field enough aeroplanes or airships to put up any real resistance.
Now that the fighters and soon the bombers would be rigged with Pip’s wiring, Fieran truly wasn’t needed for those runs any longer.
Pip…Fieran’s stomach sank. He swallowed, not sure how to ask this delicately. “Will one of the Ordnance units be sent forward with us?”
For the first time, a hint of a sardonic smile broke through Col. Dentley’s professional mien. “Yes. Capt. Detmuk-Inawenys and her mechanics will be sent forward as well.”
Fieran resisted the urge to do anything as visible as heave a sigh of relief. Instead he merely repeated, “Thank you, sir.”
Col. Dentley pushed two more pieces of paper forward, the smile disappearing once more. “To more effectively support the ground troops, you may need to split your squadron up more often. To make that easier, I’m promoting both Rothilion and Loiatir to captain.”
Rothilion and Merrik stepped forward to pick up the papers. Rothilion’s expression never wavered, but Merrik’s eyes had widened, as if he hadn’t expected he’d ever become a captain.
With that, Col. Dentley dismissed the three of them, turning back to his paperwork.
After they had stepped out of the room, Fieran elbowed Merrik. “Capt. Loiatir has a good ring to it. As does Capt. Rothilion.” He shot a grin at Saranthyr. “It’s about time, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Rothilion’s expression had fallen into that too-dour look that meant he was playing along with the banter.
Merrik was still staring at the paper in his hands. “I did not think they would promote me. Not after…” He gestured down at his right leg.
“You’re still one of the best pilots in the entire Flying Corps.” Fieran draped an arm first over Merrik’s shoulders, then Rothilion’s. “Now come on. Let’s go tell the squadron the good news.”
“Good news?” One of Rothilion’s eyebrows went up. “The news that we will likely be going back to lack of bathing facilities and sleeping in tents in the mud?”
Right. There was that.
Fieran swept his aeroplane in a long curve over Fort Defense, taking in all the changes.
Below, the damage from the bombing had been repaired as if it had never happened. The warehouses had been rebuilt, the rubble cleared away. The Escarlish officer quarters had been repaired as well.
Instead of dug-in front lines beside the Chibo River, the Escarlish border was now a massive staging area with a constant stream of trucks rumbling across bridges over the muddy trench of what had once been the river.
A single set of train tracks even stretched across to the Mongavarian border, carrying more soldiers and supplies to the battling Alliance Army.
Cargo ships, guarded by small river warships, plied the Hydalla River with more war material.
Now that the invasion of Mongavaria had begun, the Alliance was ensuring that their supply lines remained robust, even with the relentless drive pushed forward by the magic of the ancient kings.
The Chibo River remained dammed with the landslide, the floodplain caused by diverting the river now providing a protected flank for the Alliance Army as it marched into Mongavaria.
Even the air section of Fort Defense had changed.
The new hangar for the bomber squadron was now completed and bustled with activity.
More bombers clustered to one side of the expanded airfield.
A second squadron of bombers been sent to Fort Defense, and Capt.
Fleetwood’s Fighting Second was currently escorting a bombing run on targets deep within Mongavaria, their aeroplanes protected with Pip’s new shielding mechanism.
A lump formed in Fieran’s throat as he took in the sprawling fort that he’d called home for months.
He’d fought so hard in these skies and on that ground.
He’d nearly died here. Merrik, too, had nearly died and had lost a leg.
If Fort Linder had been his squadron’s first taste of the fight and Dar Goranth had forged them into a unit, then here at Fort Defense they had come into their own as a fighting force.
But now it was time to move forward. They would sleep in Mongavaria tonight.
As the last aeroplane of the squadron rose into the air, Fieran wheeled his aeroplane out of the circling pattern and pointed the nose east toward Mongavarian skies.
The muddy trench where Fieran had held off the Mongavarian advance flashed by below, followed by the marshy floodplains where the Mongavarian army had been camped for so long and where Fieran had nearly died after falling from the sky.