Page 43 of Stalk the Sky

Stickyfingers halted as he was reaching for another mug on the rolling cart. “He’s in sick bay. Just a few broken bones, nothing too serious. He was able to get out of the aeroplane himself after he crashed. Two of the elven pilots are also down there for injuries they received on landing.”

Fieran released a breath. Lije was alive. That was the main thing right now.

He gave himself another few moments to soak in the warmth of the coffee in the mug. A puddle grew beneath him and Merrik as they dripped rivulets of rainwater onto the floor.

As another rather sodden pair of elven pilots stumbled inside, Fieran forced himself to his feet. He tottered down the line of pilots, taking the time to check if they were all right regardless of whether they were humans of Flight B or elves from Flight A.

As he reached Tiny, Tiny lifted his head, his cheeks still a little green. “I’m sorry, Fieran. I thought I had the airship. I was so close. But then it began to sleet, and there was just so much ice in the air that I couldn’t…I wasn’t strong enough…I just…”

“It’s all right, Tiny. There was nothing more you could have done.” Fieran couldn’t hide the weariness in his voice.

There was nothing any of them could have done, even if Fieran had used his magic. There was just no fighting a storm like this.

“Lt. Laesornysh.”

At Commander Druindar’s voice, Fieran spun and saluted, bracing himself. If Commander Druindar was angry that they’d come back early without so much as engaging the presumed enemy airship, then Lt. Rothilion was sure to place the blame on Fieran for pushing for the return to base.

But Commander Druindar’s returning salute had a weary lack of crispness to it, his blue eyes pained. “I am…glad you have returned safely.”

“Thank you, Commander.” It was likely the closest the commander would ever come to admitting that perhaps they never should have gone up in this weather.

But those were the kinds of decisions a leader had to make. Either keep his pilots safely on the ground and risk an airship spying on the base or send his pilots into a storm that had only gotten more violent by the moment.

One could only know which option was the wrong one when deaths happened and the recriminations came afterwards.

Or, perhaps, there were no right options, only less bad ones.

Pip stood on the ladder, the steel of her wrench cold in her already icy fingers.

Fieran’s aeroplane was a sorry sight, dripping rainwater onto the hangar floor. What was left of his right wing dangled in tatters while the left wing had sustained damage during the landing.

All around the hangar, the mangled aeroplanes the ground crew had managed to retrieve from the storm crouched in piles of tangled wires, tattered canvas, and sagging wings.

So many of the beautiful, brand-new aeroplanes reduced to this.

Worse, Lije was in sick bay recovering from broken bones. Several flyboys and elven pilots were still missing. And there was nothing any of them could have done. There was no fighting a storm like this.

Pip blinked back tears as she fumbled to loosen the bolts holding what remained of the lower wing to the fuselage. Her fingers shook so much she couldn’t seem to get a good grip on the bolt to work it loose.

“Here. I got the wing.”

Pip jumped at the sound of the voice, and she scrambled to wipe her sleeve over her face.

One of the human mechanics stood below, gripping what remained of the wing to hold it steady while she loosened the wing from the aeroplane.

Not Fieran coming to help. She shouldn’t be disappointed at that. He paced near the mouth of the hangar, his steps sharp, the slouch to his shoulders almost tortured. He wouldn’t be reaching out to comfort her any time soon.

Perhaps she should be over there, comforting him. But her own emotions were too raw. Right now, she just wanted to throw herself into the work.

Clearing her throat, she glanced down at the mechanic bracing the wing for her. “Thanks.”

It was the first time one of the other mechanics had reached out to her like this. She wouldn’t dismiss that, even if she wished it was Fieran helping her.

With the other mechanic’s help, she loosened the rest of the bolts and the ruins of the wing fell from the aeroplane.

She climbed down from the ladder to better assess if there was any other damage to be fixed or if all this aeroplane needed was new wings bolted on.

At least a shipment of replacement aeroplane parts arrived from Escarland before the storm hit.

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