Page 3 of Storm to Victory
On the next log over, Merrik had his prosthetic leg off and in his lap as he cleaned out a few of the joints and fiddled with the adjustments. His socks, too, dried out near the fire, including the stocking he wore over his stump. As he stretched out his left leg, he wiggled his three remaining toes on that foot. A few scars wrapped around his foot and up his ankle from where he’d been pieced back together.
Lt. Rothilion, Lije, Stickyfingers, Tiny, and Murray lounged on the other logs around this campfire, although Stickyfingers was leaning so far backward that he was in danger of tipping over as he talked with Lt. Nellie Blair where she sat at a nearby campfire with most of the flygirls, both human and elven.
Lije sniffed at his shirt and grimaced. “I’m ready to get back to Fort Defense and get a proper shower.”
The Engleston Aerodrome had a few outdoor showers behind makeshift curtains, but the water was ice cold. Laundry had to be scrubbed in a bucket and set out on a line to dry, something Fieran and his squadron had been too busy to do in the past few days.
“The return to proper accommodations will be much appreciated.” Lt. Rothilion scrubbed at the mud splattered on the ends of his trousers and tilted his head toward where their two-person army tents were tucked beneath the trees at the very edge of this mountain meadow, the ground falling away to a gorge on the far side. To the other side of their fires, their aeroplanes were parked beside the airfield, scattered far enough apart that they wouldn’t all be destroyed in case of a bombing raid.
Beyond the airfield, the haphazard buildings of the aerodrome perched amid piles of muddy earth while the skeleton of a half-finished hangar rose against the night sky.
“And away from the mud.” Merrik peered into the small space at the ankle joint of his prosthetic.
“At least it isn’t raining tonight.” Fieran shot a glance at the clear night sky arching overhead, the stars winking. This high up in the Whitehurst Mountains, the night was somewhat chilly, even this far south in Escarland. At this time of early autumn, most of southern Escarland was still gripped in hot, humid weather, and as that air piled into the mountains, it resulted in frequent rainsqualls.
“Not yet,” Lije grumbled as he shifted one of his damp boots closer to the fire.
“We’ll be back at Fort Defense tomorrow.” Tiny heaved a sigh, his eyes going somewhat distant. He was likely dreaming about donuts…and the troll girl who worked in the donut shop.
Lije rolled his eyes and elbowed Tiny.
Stickyfingers was so wrapped up with his conversation with the flygirls at the other campfire that he hadn’t even noticed.
Fieran resisted the urge to heave a lovesick sigh of his own. He missed Pip. Missed joking with her. Missed tinkering on an aeroplane together. Missed evening walks with her hand in his.
For the little over a week that the Half-Breed Squadron had been supporting the southern two invasion forces, the squadron’s mechanics had been left behind at Fort Defense, along with most of their gear. They’d camped in large fields, highland meadows, and makeshift aerodromes where they could borrow mechanics and purloin spare parts as needed, only occasionally having access to the luxuries of showers and hot food that they’d grown accustomed to at Fort Defense.
Now Fieran’s squadron had finally been ordered to return to Fort Defense. The invasion was making good progress, and their aeroplanes were in need of maintenance and repairs.
Not to mention, all of them needed rest. They’d flown long hours, traveling up and down the border, and engaged in numerous battles both in the air and in support of ground troops.
It was beyond time for a day off. A plate of donuts. A walk with his girl.
And a hot shower. Definitely the hot shower.
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.
