Page 17 of Fly to Fury
Pip squeaked, whirled, and pressed her back against the steel wall beside the door, as if she was a child hiding from the boogeyman. She gulped in deep, rapid breaths as if she’d sprinted the length of the airfield rather than simply standing there.
“Pippak Detmuk-Inawenys?”
Pip jumped and shoved away from the outer wall, trying to appear like she was a professional and not hiding from her childhood hero.
A rangy, middle-aged human man with an impressive bristling mustache and thinning brown hair on his head headed for her. He would likely be considered on the shorter end for humans, though he was still several inches taller than her. He held out his hand to her. “I’m Harry Dunner, chief mechanic for the Flying Corps stationed here at Fort Defense. I apologize that I wasn’t here to greet you and your mechanics when you arrived.”
“I’m Pippak. We appreciated the chance to settle in.” Pip shook his hand firmly, not wanting to give him any chance to dismiss her or her skills.
“If you need anything, please let me know.” Chief Mechanic Dunner smiled as he released her hand, holding her gaze as he spoke as if she was just another one of the male mechanics.
Something in her relaxed at the lack of disdain in the man’s expression or tone. Her job would have been a lot harder if she’d had to prove herself to the chief mechanic.
“Actually, there is something.” Pip drew in a deep breath, gathering her courage. “There’s a mechanic currently actingas a man-of-all-work between here and the trainyard. I’d like to have him assigned to me.”
“Is your unit understaffed?” The chief mechanic glanced around the hangar, likely taking in the bustle of the human mechanics under her setting to work.
“No. But…” Should she admit this? Probably. Chief Mechanic Dunner would find out as soon as she submitted the official paperwork. “He’s my brother. He has plant magic, but he wields it like a dwarf. That makes his magic especially suited to repairing wooden items, like aeroplanes, even though his mechanical expertise is in trains.”
“You believe he would be an asset? You aren’t just asking because he is your brother?” Chief Mechanic Dunner eyed her, a frown furrowing his brow. He leaned back, some of the respect in his gaze fading.
Pip wasn’t going to squirm under his gaze. “Yes. Not just for my unit but for the whole Flying Corps, if my unit doesn’t have enough work for an added mechanic. With his magic, he can repair a damaged aeroplane far quicker and better than a regular mechanic.”
Chief Mechanic Dunner’s frown remained, the assessing look not easing from his face.
Pip hurried on before the man had a chance to say no. “I know my brother’s skills and his training. He has experience melding human and elven techniques and working with both humans and elves. He is what my mechanics need to make us operate as one unit, rather than two.”
“Very well.” Chief Mechanic Dunner nodded, the frown finally disappearing. “I will give you the transfer paperwork to fill out, and I’ll send it to the railyard’s chief mechanic with my approval. But I can’t guarantee he will also grant his approval.”
“I understand.” Pip refused to sag in relief. The railyard’schief mechanic might not approve, given that Mak’s experience was in trains. But if the mechanics at the railyard were as prejudiced toward Mak as he had insinuated, they likely wouldn’t put up a fuss about the transfer.
“I look forward to working with you.” With one last dip of his chin, Chief Mechanic Dunner turned and strode away.
Pip released a breath and pressed a hand to the wall behind her. Why had she ever been made the head mechanic for her unit? All she wanted to do was hide in her corner and fiddle with mechanics all day. Not all the paperwork and leadership decision stuff.
Things would be better once Mak was here. He had more experience giving orders to his fellow mechanics than she did. Not to mention that she’d feel more confident with her big brother there to back up her decisions. And, well, he was her big brother. She always felt better when he was around.
Fieran strode through the hangar door, a jaunty bounce to his stride as if he’d found his early morning practice with his dacha energizing. He swept a glance around, halting when his gaze landed on Pip. “Are you hiding?”
“No.” Pip peeled away from the wall as Merrik came into the hangar behind Fieran. “Not anymore.”
Fieran raised his eyebrows, his grin tilting as if he couldn’t suppress it. “I see.”
“Practice went well?” She gestured to the swords on his back, hoping her tone sounded more casual than she felt.
“Yes.” Fieran paused and shared a glance with Merrik. “We both got trounced.”
“Soundly.” Merrik’s dry tone accompanied the wry tilt to his mouth. He swiped some of his long hair out of his face, where it stuck to the sweat on his forehead. “Not that we expected anything less.”
“No, we didn’t. Our dachas have their terrifying reputationsfor a reason.” Fieran grimaced and shook out his arms, as if his muscles were sore.
“Well, your dacha has his terrifying reputation. My dacha gained his skills out of necessity over the past seventy years of trying to keep up with your dacha in practice bouts.” Merrik held one arm across his body, tugging on it to stretch out the muscles.
“True. Not sure how he survived all these years.” Fieran swiped his sleeve across his forehead. “I barely survive practicing with my dacha, and I have the magic of the ancient kings.”
Pip relaxed with the familiar banter between Fieran and Merrik. It was an adjustment to be stationed at the larger Fort Defense, and she felt off-kilter, settling into a new space after she’d grown so comfortable at Dar Goranth. Worse, suppressing her growing feelings for Fieran was becoming more uncomfortable by the day.
But at least she still had her flyboys, no matter what.
