Page 52 of Storm to Victory
Fieran would have gone to her to reassure her and hold her, telling her it was all right. But he couldn’t leave the wheel. Right now, they both had to be army officers facing a possible battle rather than boyfriend and girlfriend.
A string of elven swear words rang from inside the radio room. Uncle Edmund raised his voice. “They’re suspicious. Apparently the codes were changed in the past few days. I’m trying to convince them that we’ve been traveling in radio silence since fleeing the Alliance bombing.”
Another flurry of taps and beeps burst from the radio room. If Fieran had paid more attention in the class on the older telegraph system, perhaps he would have understood what was being sent back and forth. Then again, this was all in code and likely in a slightly different system than the one Escarland had used.
Uncle Edmund muttered another string of elven curses as he ran from the radio room and disappeared out of sight toward some of the unused cabins. He raced into sight a moment later, tugging a Mongavarian uniform shirt on over his other clothes, the uniform trousers loose around his waist.
“Edmund.” Dacha’s tone held a warning as he shot a look at him.
“Sorry, sorry. I know, little ears and all that. No time.” Uncle Edmund dashed out the door onto the outer catwalk.
Fieran shared a look with Pip. Neither of them were exactly what one would call “little ears” anymore, and the fact that he recognized all those words showed exactly the type of education he’d gotten in the army.
No, he was far more concerned about whatever had Uncle Edmund dashing about and donning a Mongavarian uniform.
Uncle Edmund stood on the catwalk, taking down a set of the signal flags. He waved them in a pattern, similar to the orange signal flags that they’d originally used in the Flying Corps before installing radios.
The airship ahead of them slowly turned, presenting its broadside of machine guns toward them. The other two airships were now on either side of them, perfectly positioned to blast them with the full might of their guns as well.
“I don’t think they’re buying it.” Fieran gripped the wheel tighter. “Dacha, can we overwhelm those machines without getting knocked out?”
“Possibly.” Dacha braced himself against the front panel of levers and gauges, prepared for battle. “But I would not wish to put it to the test.”
“Perhaps if we kept our magic contained within this airship?” Fieran gestured toward the airship facing them. “Those machines need to get close to or touch the magic to latch on to it. At least, the one I faced before did.”
“We cannot assume they have not made improvements since then.” Dacha nudged one of the levers so that their airship began drifting slightly downward, subtly putting the gondola below the line of fire.
Uncle Edmund sprinted back inside, using the edge of the door to fling himself around the corner and into the radio room. “They aren’t buying it.”
“Will they fire on us?”
“Maybe. This seems to be a no-fly zone for anyone who isn’t authorized to be here.” Uncle Edmund sent off another blistering set of taps. “They’re under orders to fire on anyone who tries to enter, even their own ships.”
“Should we turn around?” Fieran found he was already, almost subconsciously, putting pressure on the wheel in preparation. “We can try getting past at night or at a different spot.”
“Not sure they’ll let us leave.” Uncle Edmund’s voice was tight, grim. “They’re—”
A boom rang out as the airship blocking their way fired one of their largest artillery pieces.
“Incoming!” Uncle Edmund shouted, even as he kept tapping on the radio. Perhaps he was sending a string of Mongavarian curses, still trying to pretend they were a Mongavarian airship wrongfully fired upon.
The shell clipped the top of the gondola and tore into the dirigible above their heads. Fieran ducked, his magic leaping to his fingertips even if he didn’t unleash it yet.
The airships on either side opened up with their machine guns, tearing into the dirigible above their heads.
“Edmund?” Dacha raised a hand, his magic lacing around his fingers. “Should I unleash my magic?”
“Not yet. The moment they see your magic, they’ll know we aren’t who I’ve been saying we are.” Uncle Edmund’s tapping had ramped up to a furious pace. “There’s a chance I can get them to call off their attack.”
The two airships swerved toward them, their guns blazing. The large artillery gun in the airship ahead of them boomed yet again.
One of the side windows shattered. Fieran ducked behind the wheel as Dacha crouched below the protection of the metal side.
Pip gave a short shriek, and Fieran swiveled on the balls of his feet to look toward her. “Pip?”
“I’m fine.” She crouched below the engine controls, but she was left with little protection, her back to the windows.
More windows shattered, glass bursting inward, as bullets pinged off the walls over their heads.
