Page 44 of Fly to Fury
“Ready for cooking?” Lije sat on the floor, surrounded by stacks of various cans that he’d sorted from the crate.
“Almost. Let us test it first.” Fieran met Pip’s gaze, his mouth going lopsided. “This will either work great or explode. Not sure which.”
“It’ll work.” Pip wiggled out from under the makeshift stovetop. She trusted her and Fieran’s work, but she didn’t want to be under it when they powered it up either.
Once she was clear, she crouched next to Fieran as he turned the dial slowly, letting the power flood through the mechanism to convert the magic into heat in the coils.
She held a hand a couple of inches above one of the coils. The sensation of heat met her palm, growing hotter with each moment. “It’s working.”
“And not exploding.” Fieran stood and brushed off the knees of his army trousers. “You should be good to go, Lije.”
Lije grabbed one of their makeshift pots—two oil drums that Pip had used her magic to cut in half and the flyboys had thoroughly scrubbed so that their food wouldn’t taste like oil—and set it on one of the heating coils. “Pip, could you open the cans of beans, beef, ham, and any other meats? I’ll need someone to fill one of the pots with water.”
Fieran and several of the flyboys jumped to form a chain, passing the cans to Pip. She used her magic to open the can before she passed it to Lije. After Lije dumped the can into his pot, he passed the can off to another chain of flyboys and elves, who rinsed the can and added it to the barrel of metal for recycling.
Tiny fetched the water and set that pot on one of the burners to boil. Murray lined up a bunch of hardtack on a metal screen.
Once they had all the cans of meat and beans in the pot, Lije stirred the mixture with an old wrench that Pip had molded into the shape of a spoon. The scraping of the metal wrench-spoon against the oil-drum-pot grated, and several of the elves in the lines of those helping flinched at the noise.
“Merrik, I’m putting you in charge of the vegetables.” Lije gestured with his wrench-spoon at the remaining stacks of cans.
Pip shifted to helping Merrik open the cans of corn, green beans, carrots, and other assorted vegetables. They dumped all of it into a third pot and set it over the remaining burner to heat.
Stickyfingers scurried around one of the nearby aeroplanes. When Fieran glanced in his direction, Stickyfingers motioned to him. “You might not want to look. Or listen. For deniability.”
“Do I want to know?” Fieran shook his head, raising an eyebrow at Stickyfingers.
“Not if you want a flavorful lunch.” Stickyfingers hurried to Lije’s side, one arm tucked close to his body and only partially hiding the bulge under his shirt.
Fieran promptly turned around. Merrik, too, plugged his ears and turned his back.
Stickyfingers pulled several paper bags from where they’d been tucked in his shirt and lowered his voice. “I got what you asked for.” He shot a glance at Pip and grinned, showing off his slightly yellowed teeth. “I liberated some brown sugar and spices from the airships’ stores. And…this…” He held up something wrapped in wax paper.
Lije snatched it and unfolded the paper. “Bacon! Yes! That makes the gruel.”
After tossing the new ingredients into the pot, Lije set to stirring once again.
Pip reached over and tapped Merrik to let him know he could safely turn around again. One of the flyboys nudged Fieran.
Once the water pot began boiling, Lije had Murray set the screen with the hardtack over the pot, then covered it with the other half of that oil drum. Lije motioned with his wrench-spoon at Murray. “Keep an eye on them. The steam will soften the hardtack, but we don’t want them getting soggy.”
Murray nodded as if watching the hardtack was a solemn duty.
Soon, a savory smell filled the hangar, and Pip’s stomach rumbled. This meal might not actually be a disaster after all.
A cluster of Capt. Fleetwood’s men stuck their heads into the bay. “What’s that smell? Can we have some?”
Lije glanced at Fieran. Fieran shrugged before he turned to the men from the other squadron. “The more the merrier.”
Hopefully the food would stretch for two squadrons. Not that Fieran could have done anything else. It wasn’t like they could tell the other squadron to go hungry.
With the food bubbling merrily, the flyboys and elven pilots braved the rain, using large pieces of metal as shields, to dash to their shelters to fetch plates and utensils from their army-issued mess kits.
Once Lije declared the mountain gruel ready, everyone from the two squadrons lined up. Murray distributed one biscuit to each person before Lije dumped a scoop of gruel on top. Merrik placed the scoop of vegetables on top for those who planned to mix them in, next to the gruel on the plate, or even in a separate bowl for those, such as many of the elves, who didn’t want their food touching whatsoever.
Pip, Mak, and the other mechanics lined up with theothers. Once she had her food, she found a spot on the floor next to Fieran. “Dare we try this concoction of Lije’s?”
It had turned out a gloopy, stew-like consistency with a brown sauce over the browned meat.
