Page 78 of Stalk the Sky

“Mind if I take the cot?” One of her mechanics pressed a hand against the wall, dark smudges underneath his eyes. He hadn’t had a chance to sleep yet.

“Of course. I’ll be up for a while.” Pip stepped away from the cot as the mechanic collapsed onto it. The poor man was snoring within moments.

Fieran extracted himself from his flyboys, Merrik at his side. Sontar met them partway across the hangar, handing each of them a mug and a donut.

Pip wasn’t sure how, but Fieran managed a smile for his cousin, the expression digging weary lines into his face and not quite reaching his eyes. Still, seeing that smile sent something like hope through her. If Fieran could smile after the day they’d had, then surely everything would be all right, eventually.

Even though Pip hadn’t left the hangar since returning with Sontar, the rumors had flown around Dar Goranth. They were saying it was estimated that there were over ten thousand casualties with perhaps as many as six or seven thousand dead, most of those sailors on the surface ships. Many of the ships that had blown up had few survivors.

The airships with elven healers on board had been turned into mobile healing units, docking at the sick bay level to transfer the worst of the wounded to recover on land. Any surface ships with elven healers had also been turned into hospital ships.

But worst was the ships picking up the dead. The stories floating around Dar Goranth told of ships coming into the harbor with the dead mounded on the decks. There was not enough canvas in all of Dar Goranth to properly shroud the dead, even with many of the trolls in the local villages donating their spare canvas. Teams were trying to identify all the dead before they were quickly buried on a hill farther along the coast of Drogenvroh Island.

At least the Alliance sailors were being given that much. The dead Mongavarians were buried at sea, nameless and friendless, even if they were afforded as much dignity as possible.

That was what Pip had heard, anyway. She hadn’t looked out the hangar mouth to see for herself. She hadn’t wanted to. Just that one trip to sick bay had been enough.

Instead, she had focused on fixing the aeroplanes, swapping out their depleted magical power cells for the last of the full ones, and getting her boys back in the sky as safely and quickly as possible so they could continue the search for survivors.

Fieran patted Sontar on the back before he turned toward Pip. Their gazes met for a moment. There was so much in his blue eyes. An aching pain. A longing. A weariness that went beyond just his body’s exhaustion. The Fieran she was looking at now was older than the one who had gone up hours ago.

Merrik said something to Fieran in a low voice before he strode past him, headed for the stairs.

After another heartbeat longer, Fieran headed in her direction. As he neared, she swallowed and tried to put a little levity into her voice, though it rang hollow on a day like this. “You finally brought back my aeroplane. Took you long enough.”

“Yeah.” Fieran gave a little shrug, a tilt of his head indicating where the crew was wheeling in his aeroplane. “It’s in one piece. There might be a few bullet holes, but that’s it.”

“I saw the stunt you pulled.” Pip poked him in the chest. “That was reckless.”

He didn’t need dating her as a motivation to do reckless stuff. But perhaps he had been right in not pursuing anything more right now, if that was the kind of stuff he pulled on a regular basis. If he would do something like that for a nemesis, then what would he do for a girl he liked?

“It was.” Fieran shifted, peeking at her with more hesitation than the normal confidence he wore so well. “Do you think…can friends still hug?”

“I think so.” Pip stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. She wasn’t going to deny him. He looked in need of a hug.

Fieran embraced her in return, his arms strong around her. He reeked of acrid smoke and gasoline fumes, as if he’d flown through an explosion. His face was smeared with soot and gunpowder, except around his eyes where the goggles had protected him. But he was alive and unhurt. That was all that mattered.

She sighed and leaned into him. Perhaps she’d needed a hug too.

“We haven’t found my cousins yet,” Fieran murmured into her hair. “We found the oil slick for the ES Warren and the airships picked up a handful of survivors. But there’s been no sign of the KS Vanguard.”

“You’ll find them.” Empty words, but Pip said them anyway. They both knew that even once the Vanguard was found, there was no guarantee Rokyd or Lucien would have survived. Their odds weren’t good, and their bodies might never be found.

Fieran just nodded, his arms tightening around her for a moment.

As much as Pip wanted to stay there, hugging Fieran, both of them had duties weighing heavily on them. With an iron force of will, she stepped out of the hug, letting her arms drop. “You need to get some sleep. I’ll have your aeroplane ready to go when you wake.”

“Thanks.” Fieran lifted a hand, as if to stroke her cheek. But he changed the gesture at the last moment to lightly bump her shoulder with his fist in a friendly, far-too-brotherly gesture.

But that was the way it had to be. She didn’t like it, but she understood.

Fieran turned on his heel and strode away.

Pip turned too, heading for her tool cart. She had work to do.

Fieran trudged down the stairs. At the next level down, he paused, listening to the quiet talk of a few of the elven pilots as they took showers or wandered in something of a daze along the corridor. The whole squadron was hurting, but Flight A had taken the worst of it. Flight B had lost Grady and Miller. But Flight A had lost six pilots, and their leader currently lay in sick bay, gravely injured.

After a moment, Fieran got his legs moving again. He climbed down the stairs, passing the level with his rooms. He wasn’t ready to face his men yet, and there was something he needed to do before he could rest.

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