Page 45 of Wings of War

While she was given special treatment when it came to her room and lavatory facilities, she wasn’t invited to the captain’s table for supper that night. For which she was grateful. She didn’t want to be singled out quite that much. Even better, when she stepped into the mess that evening, she found Fieran, Merrik, and Lije sitting at a table. Apparently she had been assigned the same food times as their group.

She claimed her tray, went through the line where a cook placed some kind of savory beef with gravy and vegetables on her plate, and joined Fieran and Merrik at their table, squeezing into the seat beside Fieran that the others had made for her by sliding over.

Loud snickering and a few murmurs came from a nearby table of naval airmen, along with a few sneers in the flyboys’ direction. As Pip took her first bite, the tension curled between the tables so tightly that her muscles stiffened.

“If you actually wanted to fight Mongavarians, you should have joined the navy.” One of the airmen at a nearby table waggled a fork, his buddies snickering. “We don’t sit on our rears just taking pictures and looking at the enemy. We’ll actually fight the war.”

Across the table from Pip, one of the flyboys clenched his fists. Another gripped the table, his body tensing as if he was going to stand.

Pip let a hint of her magic flow into her fingers, though she wasn’t sure what she planned to do with her magical shield. Perhaps shield herself in the event of a fistfight so she didn’t get squashed like a bug. Or perhaps prevent a fight from even starting by forming a barrier between the two combatants.

Fieran reached out and snagged the flyboy’s arm, holding him in place. “Ignore them. It isn’t worth starting a brawl that will just fuel the army-navy rivalry.”

“Even if they deserve it,” Lije muttered under his breath, his hands clenched on his fork.

Another naval airman grumbled, though he spoke plenty loud enough for them to hear, “General Julien’s Follies.”

Fieran’s jaw flexed at the mocking mention of his uncle. Merrik turned slightly, as if to better place himself to guard Fieran’s back in the event of a brawl.

While Pip hadn’t heard the phrase “General Julien’s Follies” until she’d come to Fort Linder, the sentiment was one spoken on the streets of Bridgetown and reported in the papers. Even a few men in the regular army units stationed at Fort Linder muttered it when they saw the flyboys.

It was a common opinion that General Julien Ardon’s push for flyers was a foolish one. The accepted belief was that the war would be fought with airships, and flyers would be nothing more than scouts, too small and useless to actually take down an airship by themselves. Many in the army didn’t even think it was worth arming the aeroplanes.

After seeing an airship up close, Pip wasn’t sure she disagreed with them, exactly. What could a flyer—even an armed one—do against such a well-fortified behemoth? Only a pilot like Fieran with a great deal of destructive magic could take down an airship on his own. The rest of the flyer squadron would be like gnats buzzing around a grizzly bear. Annoying, but easily swatted from the air.

Still, she gripped Fieran’s sleeve. “It isn’t worth starting something.”

Not that she would stop him if he tried. Like Merrik, she’d stand at his side if Fieran chose to fight over turning the other cheek.

Fieran sighed, shook his head, and turned his back to the hecklers.

“Shut up.” An airman at another table glared at the table of jeerers before he glanced over at Fieran, giving him a slight nod.

Well, at least not all the naval airmen here wanted to play into the rivalry.

As the scoffing airmen turned back to their food with a few grumbles, Pip relaxed, letting her magic drain away back into her chest.

Fieran released the other flyboy’s arm, and they all dug into their food like the tension of a moment earlier hadn’t happened.

“How are the engineering spaces?” Fieran wolfed down his food between his words as if he worried that someone had mixed up their food with what was supposed to be served to the officers.

She’d heard the rumors that the navy ate far better than the army. This airship was certainly trying to prove that was true. Perhaps the navy cooks were pulling out all the stops, showing off for the army flyboys in their midst.

“I could have spent all day admiring the engines. They are marvels.” Pip blew on her bite of roast beef before popping it in her mouth. The savory taste burst across her tongue. She hadn’t eaten anything this good outside of the weekends in Bridgetown since leaving home. “What about you? Did you learn how to fly this thing yet?”

“Not yet.” Fieran shrugged. “Hopefully tomorrow. But Merrik and I sneaked up to the top of the dirigible for a while. That was beyond amazing.”

Merrik glanced around, then poked Fieran. “Do not say that so loud. No one has given us swabbing duties yet, and I do not want that to change.”

Fieran just smirked at his friend. “If they haven’t punished us by now, I doubt they will.”

Merrik rolled his eyes and turned back to his food.

Still, Fieran lowered his voice as he faced Pip. “They have us bunking in hammocks among the gas balloons above the gondola. But I didn’t see your things stowed up there.”

“No. I’ve been assigned a tiny cabin in the officers’ quarters.” Pip shrugged, her shoulder brushing Fieran’s arm with the movement. “It’s cramped even for me. I’d almost rather have a hammock up there with the rest of you. Almost.”

“Considering Tiny nearly hurled his breakfast all over our hammocks, you’ll probably be grateful you don’t have a hammock with the rest of us.” Lije gave a shudder. “I don’t have enough of my mama’s soap along to salvage something like that.”

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