“That new Defender isfast.” Pretty Face, his aeroplane taking up Merrik’s wingman position behind Fieran, spoke into the radio. As he was in the older T-05 Soarwing, his aeroplane was lagging behind, especially as they were still climbing to altitude. “When do I get one?”
“I heard they’ll be delivered shortly.” From what Fieran heard, the female pilots who hadn’t been added to his squadron had been turned into an auxiliary unit to deliver aeroplanes throughout the Alliance. Perhaps not the job they’d wanted, but it was a role that was sorely needed. Without it, Fieran and his squadron would be back to having to put together their own aeroplanes as they’d done at Dar Goranth. “But be warned. These new aeroplanes are finicky.”
“You just need to know how to woo them.” Pretty Face somehow managed a sultry tone over the crackling radio.
Fieran rolled his eyes, even as he smiled. He’d missed his squadron. “Since you love the new Defenders so much, you can see to it that my new aeroplane gets nose art once we’re done with our patrol.”
“Gladly.” Pretty Face sounded cheerful, as if he didn’t mind the extra work Fieran was giving him. “I’ve already set aside the paint.”
“And you can help paint over the nose art on the T-05 Soarwings.” Fieran tightened his grip on the control stick as a wind gust tossed his aeroplane about.
“If I have to. Though it seems such a shame.” The cheer left Pretty Face’s voice.
It did, at that. Pretty Face and the others had worked hard on the nose art back in Dar Goranth. It hurt having to erase the work and the memories.
Yet they couldn’t send back the T-05s with the custom nose art. Their old aeroplanes were going to be put to use for training new pilots, as they were more stable and thus easier to fly than the Defenders.
At least the elven half of the squadron wouldn’t need new nose art since they were currently keeping their Yshendar aeroplanes.
As he and Pretty Face neared the Wall, Fieran turned his aeroplane, paralleling the Chibo River. On the Escarlish side of the river, the bridges that had been built during Fieran’s rescue remained jutting into the river, though they ended abruptly at the Wall. The Alliance armies must have dismantled the bridges on the Mongavarian side when they returned back to Escarland. It made sense not to leave such easy crossings over the river for the enemy, even if the Wall made such a thing impossible.
The dots of Alliance airships trundled along the Wall to the south. In the wake of the previous battles over Fort Defense, the navy had redistributed the airships to longer patrols over the borders, ceding the main air defense of the fort to the Flying Corps squadrons.
At the Hydalla River, Fieran turned his aeroplane to the west, following the familiar routine. If he ignored the strangeness of the aeroplane around him, Pretty Face’s voice in his ears instead of Merrik’s, and the ache in his muscles as the patrol continued, he could almost pretend he’d never crashed.
Pip hadher head in the engine compartment of Fieran’s new aeroplane as she installed the synchronization gear. His aeroplane would be the easiest to do. She’d wait on the others until headquarters swapped out the old T-05 Soarwings with the new T-07 Defenders. Supposedly they’d be arriving in a week at the most.
There came the expected scuffing of footsteps behind her, and she grinned down into the engine. “You had better not be staring at my rear end.”
Fieran gave a cough, his footsteps shuffling more than striding for a moment. “You know I’ve always found you rather attractive in coveralls and wrenching on an engine.”
With the way her face heated, she was glad she was head-down in the engine where no one could see. Sure, the two of them had been thinking stuff like that for months now, but how was she ever going to concentrate now that Fieran had decided to start saying stuff like that out loud?
“Distracting me already.” Pip wiggled her hand into the narrow spot between the top of the aeroplane and the new gear. “You’re not supposed to do that while I’m working.”
“Right. Sorry.” The ladder wobbled slightly. Fieran must have rested a hand on it. “So…would you like help? If you don’t find my presence too distracting?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” She wouldn’t pander that much to his ego. Even if her face was flaming and she was fiddling with the wires to pretend she wasn’t struggling to think about what she should do next when her mind was filling with thoughts of kissing. Nope. Focus. She wasn’t some young girl who couldn’t function when falling in love. “This is strictly professional.”
“Of course. Keeping flirty comments to myself.” Fieran’s laugh betrayed that he was grinning. “You won’t even know I’m here. Just another set of hands to fetch your tools for you.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Pip hoped her tone came across as snarky instead of the breathy, mushy puddle she really was. “Since you offered, I need a nine-sixteenths wrench, more wire, and two more three-eighths bolts with nuts and washers.”
“As you wish.” Fieran’s bootsteps trotted off.
Just like old times. Her working on an engine. Him fetching parts and tools.
Except that Merrik wouldn’t wander by, interrupting before things got too close to romantic. He wouldn’t be there to joke with her and Fieran.
For a moment, Pip had to brace herself against the sides of the engine compartment while she caught her breath. Would she ever adjust to the gaping hole in the squadron that Merrik left behind?
Heavier bootsteps sounded on the cement floor a moment before Mak’s voice came from beside the aeroplane. “Where do you want me?”
Maybe she should set him to work on a different aeroplane so she and Fieran could enjoy more alone time.
But Mak’s presence would keep her and Fieran from getting too distracted.
“Could you start on the insulators for rigging the shielding wire?” Pip extracted one hand so she could flap vaguely at the side of the aeroplane without looking. “And figure out how to rig it without disrupting the aerodynamics or the lines of this aeroplane. It’s too beautiful to mess up.”
