Page 9 of Stalk the Sky

Baragh had been in her magical engineering class at Hanford University, and they’d graduated together. He’d been a friend, though they hadn’t kept in touch after they went their separate ways.

“Good. Got a job here at Dar Goranth right after university, and I’ve been here ever since.” Baragh gestured at the expansive hangar. “I’m the chief mechanic for all airships and aeroplanes that stop here at Dar Goranth.”

Making him her boss. That was convenient. She’d been worried she’d get stuck with some gruff and grumpy troll.

“That’s great.” Pip grinned. She was always happy when she heard about someone she knew from university succeeding.

“What about you?” Baragh grabbed a nearby metal cart and pushed it toward her.

Pip took her bag off her shoulder, opened it, and dug out the tools she’d brought from home. “I returned home to the western rail terminal and went back to wrenching on trains. Until I joined the Mechanics Auxiliary a few months ago.”

“Huh. I was sure you’d get a job at the Alliance Magical Power Company.” Baragh shrugged, his gaze narrowing as he studied her. “You had the mind and magic for it.”

Pip stilled at the mention of the AMPC, the company in Escarland run by the famous inventor Lance Marion, Merrik’s dacha Iyrinder Loiatir, and Fieran’s dacha, the famous Prince Farrendel Laesornysh. Internal hero worship squeal. Her face grew hot as she tried to breathe normally.

When she finally swallowed and spoke, she struggled to sound casual rather than squealy. “I thought about it, but I missed home too much to move away.”

At least back then. It had taken a few decades, but she’d gotten restless again. Restless enough to join the army mechanics.

“Well, we’re glad to have you here at Dar Goranth.” Baragh glanced up as footsteps came in their direction.

The other four mechanics from Fort Linder wove their way between the aeroplanes before halting a few feet away from Pip.

Baragh grabbed a slightly grimy clipboard. “I’m Baragh Garr, head mechanic for all airborne vessels here at Dar Goranth. Since you already have a good working relationship with the pilots you trained with, I’m assigning you to Flight B.”

Pip breathed a slight sigh of relief. Not that she wasn’t used to working with elves. Her home was in Tarenhiel, after all, and she’d worked with elves all her life.

But she much preferred to stick with Fieran and her flyboys. She didn’t trust anyone else to keep her boys safe.

“Pippak Detmuk-Inawenys, you’ll be the head mechanic for Flight B.”

Pip stiffened, nearly dropping her favorite wrench on her foot. “Pardon?”

The other four male human mechanics who had been at Fort Linder with her shifted, glancing between each other. While she had gained their respect enough that they didn’t hassle her, she had mostly kept to herself during training, hanging out with the flyboys more than her fellow mechanics when off duty.

“You’re by far the most qualified with the most years of experience.” Baragh glared past her at the other mechanics. “Any of you have a problem with that?”

One man opened his mouth, like he was going to say something, before he snapped his mouth shut and shook his head.

“I didn’t think so.” Baragh faced her again. “Get your men settled, then organize what you’ll need for arming the aeroplanes. We have two older-model flyers there in the back that you can use for testing various designs.”

Pip nodded, her words stuck in her throat. She’d never been in charge before. At the western rail terminal, her mother and brother bossed the other workers around. Pip could just go and do her own thing.

She glanced over her shoulder at the four mechanics put under her charge. Two of them were in their thirties or forties, physically older than her, even if she had more years of experience by virtue of being a slow-aging half-elf, half-dwarf.

The four men stared back at her with looks varying from dubious to resentful.

What had Baragh been thinking, putting her in charge?

After organizing her personal tools, inventorying the provided tools, seeing to it that her men had their own carts and tools, and inspecting the two aeroplanes, Pip was more than ready to retreat to her room.

With her pack considerably lighter now that she’d unloaded her tools, Pip made her way down the flight of stairs to Level 24. At the landing, arrows and labels pointed into the labyrinth of tunnels, showing where Sections A-E could be found on this level of the mountain.

Pip followed the arrows, the tension in her shoulders easing at being surrounded by so much stone. While she’d grown up in the light, airy, and very wooden buildings of the western rail terminal, there was something about the dark and deep places of the earth that called to her. Her muka would love it here.

As she reached Section E, she found a small corridor with only ten doors, five to each side. The hall ended in a door to the outside, which led onto a tiny balcony. Four of the female elf pilots were already crammed onto that balcony with a fifth hovering in the doorway.

A few of the doors stood open, lilting elvish floating out.

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