Page 51 of Fly to Fury
Fieran crossed his arms and shared a glance with Merrik. Whatever battle was about to commence, the Half-Breed Squadron would likely be called on to lead the charge.
Fieran waitedin the lean-to attached to the end of the hangar, his arms crossed tightly over his chest and his back pressed to the wall. Mostly to prevent himself from fidgeting.
After Uncle Weylind, Uncle Julien, and Aunt Vriska arrived yesterday, he’d been wound tight as he waited for whatever plan would soon come down the chain of command. Dacha hadn’t even been able to get away long enough that morning for practice, leaving Fieran’s magic and nervous energy bubbling within him.
Merrik and Lt. Rothilion waited on either side of Fieran, both of them still as the trees of the forest on a quiet day.
Across the table from Fieran, Capt. Fleetwood paced while Capt. Kentworth pressed his palms to the table, studying the charts as if he could figure out the plan even before Colonel Dentley arrived. Their Flight commanders waited behind them, fidgeting more than Fieran was.
The door to the room opened, and Colonel Dentley strode inside, a grim set to his jaw. Lt. Busher hurried after him, clutching a clipboard with a rather large stack of papers.
The colonel marched straight to the table as all of them stood at attention. He almost casually dismissed them to stand at ease as he halted. “Well, gentlemen, now that it seems we have achieved something of air superiority, the time has come to finally strike back at Mongavaria.”
Air superiority caused by having Fieran and his magic inthe sky, though Colonel Dentley didn’t say so. Capt. Kentworth shot Fieran a sour look, as if he resented Fieran for simply doing what was needed to win this war.
Fieran stepped away from the wall to take a spot at the table. Merrik and Lt. Rothilion matched his movement, and the three of them spread out along the side of the table across from Colonel Dentley.
Capt. Kentworth claimed the spot at Colonel Dentley’s right hand as if afraid of losing any shred of his seniority. Capt. Fleetwood fell into place on Colonel Dentley’s other side while the four lieutenants spread out on either side and on the ends of the table. Lt. Busher hung back, waiting to take notes.
“While the army has conducted a few small raids across the Wall into Mongavaria, they have held off recently to allow Mongavaria time to build up men and material within striking range.” Colonel Dentley tapped the map on the other side of the line that designated the Wall. “Scouts have reported the Mongavarian Army has amassed here, protected by gun emplacements. The Alliance Armies are planning a large-scale attack to take out this army and their guns to clear the way for effective bombing runs deeper into Mongavaria once the new bomber aeroplanes arrive in a few weeks.”
Fieran swallowed as he took in the map. Dacha would be leading any major attack like that.
“Our task is to begin flying scouting missions over the Mongavarian lines to give the army the best intelligence that we can.” Colonel Dentley made a sweeping motion with his finger to indicate the whole area on the other side of the Wall from the mountains to the river.
“Won’t that alert the Mongavarians that an attack isimminent?” Fieran braced himself against the table as he studied the map.
Capt. Kentworth shot him another, even more sour look. As if he didn’t think Fieran should so much as open his mouth in a briefing like this.
But Colonel Dentley nodded, the set to his jaw even grimmer. “It will. But headquarters has determined that knowing the lay of the land on the far side will be more beneficial than true surprise. We will vary our patrol times, as the weather allows, so that the Mongavarians might guess an attack is coming, but they will not be able to guess when it will be.”
“The patrols will be dangerous.” Capt. Fleetwood shot a look at Fieran before he gestured at the map. “Even assuming the Mongavarians don’t produce more aeroplanes and airships from wherever they’ve been hiding, the gun emplacements will still be a threat. Especially if we need to fly low enough to capture good photographs of the land below.”
Fieran resisted the urge to flinch. What Capt. Fleetwood meant was that such patrols would be dangerous for any squadron except Fieran’s since Fieran could protect his pilots with his magic. But the other captain was only half-right. Fieran would need to remove the magical protection under whoever was taking the photographs, otherwise his magic would blur the pictures. Perhaps even make them not turn out entirely.
“Another consideration, but the generals have deemed the risk worth it.” Colonel Dentley’s tone didn’t waver, even though he must know the order would send some of the pilots to their deaths.
Fieran tapped the paper, ignoring Capt. Kentworth’sglare. “My squadron can take out the gun emplacements on one of our scouting missions.”
Colonel Dentley nodded briskly. “I will take that under consideration.”
And likely run it past his superiors. Taking out the guns would make the patrols safer for the squadrons, but it also could prompt Mongavaria to take their aeroplanes and airships out of hiding once again.
But maybe headquarters would deem such a thing worth the risk. After all, Fieran would just wipe out whatever the enemy threw at him, further securing Escarland’s dominance in the air before the planned attack.
Colonel Dentley shot each of them a stern look. “This is what the Flying Corps has trained for, and we will not shirk our duty any more than the men who will charge through the Wall into enemy fire will shirk theirs.”
Fieran swallowed, resisting the urge to glance to either side at Merrik and Rothilion.
“We will begin patrols immediately, with near constant scouting missions as the weather allows.” Colonel Dentley tapped the clipboard where the usual patrol schedules were listed. “Command has set the day of attack for six days from now in the afternoon so that the sun will be at our backs. The plan is to schedule the rotation of the patrols so that the Half-Breed Squadron will lead the aerial coverage over the attack, with the Wardogs and the Fighting Second backing them up.”
Capt. Kentworth glowered, his arms crossed over his chest. As the senior commander and squadron, leading the way to protect the charge below should have been his duty, not Fieran’s. Instead, Fieran was being given the prominent duty, despite being the least senior of the three captains.
Fieran met Capt. Kentworth’s scowl with a steady gaze.Despite what Capt. Kentworth might think, Fieran hadn’t gotten where he was because of his family or because he’d had it easy. He’d earned this by the blood on his hands, and that didn’t sit on his shoulders or his soul lightly.
Fieran satin the chair in the tiny booth with its black telephone mounted on the wall next to him. Even with the booth’s door closed, he could still hear voices from the booths on either side of him as other flyboys from his squadron also called home.
One of the best parts of being here at Fort Defense was the telephone calls home, though the calls were placed from a communications hub near the mess that used the civilian lines and operators. He always had to be careful about what he said.
