Page 21 of Fly to Fury
Seven
Pip hopped off the tram, her stomach growling, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth after the long day in the hot hangar. As soon as she’d gotten off duty, she’d changed into clean, non-sweaty clothes and washed up as best she could without a full shower. With evening falling, the temperature had finally cooled to something pleasant for walking.
Fieran stepped off the tram after her, followed by Merrik, Pretty Face, Stickyfingers, Lije, and Tiny. The other flyboys poured off the tram and streamed toward the officer’s mess.
The elven pilots glided from one of the other tram cars. Most of the elves strolled toward the mess as well, though Aylia drifted in their direction. Lt. Rothilion, too, lingered on the platform rather than join the rush for food.
Mak pushed away from the wall of the nearest building. “Are all of you coming on the tour of Little Aldon?”
“There will be food, right?” Stickyfingers pressed a hand over his stomach.
“Yes, though it will be a bit of a walk.” Mak shrugged as he set out in the direction of Little Aldon. “But it will be a lotbetter than what’s served in the mess, if you don’t mind spending some of your pay.”
“We’ve been stuck on an island with no chance to spend any money.” Pretty Face patted the pocket of his trousers. “I’m more than ready to hit the town.”
“Do they take Tarenhieli coin?” Aylia fell into step on one side of Pip.
“No, everything is in Escarlish currency to keep things simple on the merchants and civilians who have been authorized to run shops in Little Aldon.” Mak slowed his pace to match Pip’s stride on her other side. “But there is an exchange for you to change currency if you need it.”
“Easy enough.” Aylia gave Pip one last grin before she dropped back to join Pretty Face and Stickyfingers, the three of them talking as if already conspiring to get into some kind of trouble.
Fieran hurried to catch up to take Aylia’s spot next to Pip. She resisted the urge to smile at him, drift closer, or otherwise give in to the urge to treat him as anything but another one of the flyboys.
Merrik had joined Lije while Tiny tromped behind them. Strangely, Lt. Rothilion trailed at the rear, as if he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to admit that he was part of the group, but he didn’t want to be left behind either.
Tucked between the bluffs and the river as it was, the section of base dubbed Little Aldon had only a single road connecting it to the railyard, commissary, and the rest of that part of Fort Defense. There was likely only a single road running out the other side toward where the main body of the Escarlish infantry was stationed.
Escarlish Army military police patrolled the stretch between the bluff and the river while a guard shack stood next to the road.
After the MPs halted them, Fieran, the flyboys, and the elven pilots showed their papers to prove they were officers with permission to enter Little Aldon at will. If they’d been enlisted men, they would have needed passes from their commanding officer.
Pip and Mak produced their paperwork, showing they were civilian mechanics, also allowed into Little Aldon whenever they were off duty.
Once past the checkpoint, Mak led the way into the bustle that was Little Aldon. The large main road ran down the center while all kinds of smaller roads and alleys branched off into a warren of shops, cafés, restaurants, and entertainment venues. Human army officers, troll officers standing a head taller than those around them, and equally tall but slimmer elves choked the streets. Most of those around them were men, but there were a few women. Most of the human women were dressed in civilian clothing—some in skirts and some in bicycle bloomers or other forms of trousers—but female elves and trolls wore the uniforms of their kingdoms.
Mak gestured around them, having to raise his voice over the noise of so many people packed in the streets. “Only the tamer variety of entertainments are available here in Little Aldon, as it is technically inside of Fort Defense. Some of the taverns can serve alcohol, but the MPs watch them closely.”
“Let me guess, those who want something more tawdry must leave the base to find it?” Pretty Face stood on his tiptoes to see around the cluster of trolls in front of a donut and ice cream shop.
“Don’t even think of it.” Stickyfingers jabbed Pretty Face in the ribs.
“I’m not!” Pretty Face squirmed away from the jab. “I’m just curious. It’s good to know which invitations to avoid.”
“There’s a shanty town upriver, or so I’ve heard.” Mak grimaced and half-turned to ease between a group of elves packing into a leatherworks shop and a bunch of human civilian women who were chatting in the middle of the road. “I’ve never gone there myself.”
Pip had to dodge as one of the elves stepped back, nearly running into her. The elf didn’t even look down and probably hadn’t seen her there.
She hurried to catch up and placed herself closer to Fieran again to use his height as a shield.
He glanced down at her and grinned. “Trying to avoid being run over?”
“It’s harder than you think.” Pip had to just about press herself to Fieran’s side when a troll came straight at her, his gaze fixed above her head. The troll likely thought the gap between Fieran and the rest of the group was open.
As soon as the troll had passed them, Pip leapt away from Fieran, all too aware of the way her shoulder had been brushing his arm.
“Ooh, look at that!” Lije halted in front of a large glass window of another shop. The window showed a set of semi-historical elven armor on a stand with various sepia-toned photographs pressed against the window. In each photograph, groups of people posed wearing what appeared to be historical armor from Escarland, Tarenhiel, and Kostaria. “What’s this?”
“A photograph booth for tourists. Calafaren had one, though we never made it out that way while we were in Fort Linder.” Fieran halted next to Lije. “They usually have costumes you can dress up in to pose for a souvenir photograph.”
