Page 27 of Fly to Fury (War of the Alliance #3)
Chapter
Sixteen
“ T he airship is here.” One of the flyboys stuck his head into the hangar bay before he hurried toward the nearest door.
“Come on. We don’t want to miss the fanfare.” Pip set her wrench on her tool cart, swiped her hands on her overalls, and pushed to her feet.
Fieran matched her grin and together the two of them hurried across the hangar toward the large door. It had been partially closed to block some of the driving rain while a puddle formed on the cement floor before the open section.
Pip pressed against the door and peered around the edge, trying to stay as dry as possible.
Outside, the canvas of the squadron’s shelters sagged, heavy with the damp while the shielding branches of the elven grown trees hung low with the weight of their wet leaves.
The road between the hangar and the row of shelters was a muddy mess of ruts and puddles, some nearly a foot deep. At least it had been repaired enough that it was somewhat passable between the hangar and the parts of the fort down below the bluff.
When she glanced along the length of the hangar, she spotted other flyboys, pilots, and mechanics also peering outward as much as they could without getting soaked by the driving rain, all of them trying to get the first glimpse of the new arrivals.
In the foothills beyond their rows of tents, a large airship drifted lower as it settled into one of the docks. Several smaller, swifter airships swarmed in the sky overhead, likely the escort still providing protection.
On the dock, various adjutants and aides held large black umbrellas over the military commanders in their dress uniforms and flashing medals.
Mak, Merrik, Lije, Pretty Face, and a handful of the other flyboys clustered in the doorway around her and Fieran. With so many people crowding the small opening, Pip found herself pressed against the metal door with the warmth of Fieran’s chest at her back.
Not that she found his close proximity at all distracting.
She certainly didn’t have the urge to lean into him rather than the cold of the metal door.
Nor breathe deeply to catch a whiff of his scent of basic military laundry soap and that minty, forest scent that might have been his shampoo. Nope, not at all.
So instead, she blurted out the first inane thing that came to mind. “I can’t believe we’ll be meeting someone famous.”
Fieran’s huffed laugh stirred her hair. “You’ve already met my dacha. And my Uncle Rharreth and Aunt Melantha, who are a king and queen.”
Pip smothered a snort. Fieran almost sounded offended that she hadn’t counted his family as the most famous people she’d met.
She wiggled in the tight space to half-turn so that she could look up at Fieran while still keeping an eye on the bustle at the airship docks.
“True. But there’s famous and then there’s… famous.”
She wasn’t explaining this correctly.
But Pretty Face was nodding almost sagely, as if he understood. “Fieran’s family is famous because they are important and have authority. But Tenian Daefiel is famous because he is a celebrity. The latter you ask for autographs. The former you quake in your boots and bow obsequiously.”
“Exactly!” Pip bumped Pretty Face’s shoulder with her fist.
Fieran gave another laugh, bending closer as if he meant to whisper into her ear, though he stopped short. “Then which is my dacha? You certainly quake in your boots with hero worship around him. Does that make him famous or a celebrity?”
“Your dacha would far prefer to be merely famous.” Merrik had his arms crossed in a relaxed posture as he leaned against the broad steel beam that framed the opening for the sliding door.
“Also true.” Fieran sighed and shook his head.
“Shush, everyone.” Lije pointed into the rain. “Looks like something’s happening.”
They all fell quiet and crowded even closer to the opening, heedless of the rain slanting inside and spattering their boots and legs.
Pip found herself even more squished between the door and Fieran, and somehow his hand ended up resting lightly on her upper arm. Her skin tingled with the awareness of him so close, his breath stirring her hair.
As the airmen tied the airship up to the dock and lowered the gangplank, the ringing tones of a military band echoed even over the plinging of the rain on the roof .
A figure stepped onto the gangplank, his golden hair striking in the gloom. He waved as he walked, as if eating up the attention. A person trotted behind him, holding a green umbrella over him to keep him from getting wet.
With all the fanfare, Pip nearly didn’t catch the movement behind the elf actor.
Two more figures scurried down the gangplank.
One of them was a woman, based on what looked like swishing skirts, but that could have just been a very large coat.
They were swallowed into the cluster of military brass, and the whole group disappeared inside the sheltered building near the airship docks.
“When do you think we’ll be allowed to meet them?” Lije bounced on his toes, even as he ducked back a step to get farther out of the rain.
“The last schedule I saw showed tomorrow.” Fieran, too, stepped away from the door and Pip now that the excitement was over.
Pip didn’t want to admit just how much she missed his warmth at her back.
“Tenian Daefiel and Margaret Grey are having dinner and a signing with the generals and higher-ups. Then tomorrow the next tier of officers—that’s us—will be allowed to meet them and get books signed.
I think there might be a show and a reading involved?
Then they will be moving to several shows and signings for the enlisted men. ”
Lije nodded, then frowned. “Hopefully the rain lets up. Trekking down the bluff for the signing is going to be miserable. I don’t know how I’ll keep a signed book from getting ruined in my tent.”
“You can store it here in the spare bay.” Pip gestured at the various racks and shelving in the Half-Breed Squadron’s part of Bay 3. “Actually, I might clear a spot for anyone who wants to bring stuff here from their tents to keep safe.”
A far-off roll of thunder rumbled across the sky, promising another torrential downpour. While early summer had come hot and dry, it seemed the weather was now going chilly and wet as they approached midsummer.
“At this rate, we might need to camp out in the hangar.” Fieran grimaced at the downpour and pointed at the shelters. “Military canvas can hold up to a lot, but days of rain like this might do it in.”
“At least we aren’t out there with the infantry stationed on the frontline next to the Wall.” Pretty Face gave an elaborate shudder. “Those dug-in bunkers must be muddy sinkholes at the moment.”
Pip, too, shivered at the thought, even though as a civilian mechanic she’d never be stationed on the frontlines like that. Still, it must not be pleasant for those men currently suffering those conditions.
“And eating field rations every day.” One of the other flyboys gave an even more exaggerated shudder than Pretty Face’s before he slapped Lije on the back. “They would have been very unappetizing without our cook here.”
Lije grinned before he gestured to Pip. “And our inventor-mechanic who could whip up a stove out of spare parts.”
“And our captain who assisted with the inventing part.” Pip pointed at Fieran, grinning. Although they weren’t going to mention Stickyfingers, who had raided the airship stores for bacon and brown sugar. That was a bit of a secret.
With the latest Star Forest novel gripped in his hands, Fieran stood in the winding line that stretched through the largest mess hall, which had been cleared of tables for the event. The bookseller had a table just inside the door where he was handing out the preordered books as people entered .
Pip gripped a copy of the first Star Forest novel as she waited in line beside Fieran while Lije had the first three in his arms. Merrik, like Fieran, held the latest novel.
Pretty Face, Tiny, and Stickyfingers waited in the other line, the longer one for getting movie posters signed by Tenian Daefiel, the elf actor who played Star Forest in the moving pictures.
Many of the elven pilots hadn’t come, but Aylia was waiting in line with the flyboys to get a rather large poster of Tenian Daefiel signed.
There was a stir by the door a moment before Dacha strode inside, the lines of people moving aside to give him room to pass.
As this event was considered a place where salutes and standing at attention weren’t required, no one in line did either of those things, even if they gave Dacha plenty of room.
Carrying a large stack of books in his arms, Dacha scanned the room for a moment.
Fieran gave a wave, leaning slightly out of his place in line.
Dacha’s gaze swung to him, and his stride quickened as he hurried across the space.
Uncle Iyrinder, too, strolled into the room, gripping a stack of books.
Beside Fieran, Pip made a squeak as she half-ducked behind him.
As his dacha approached, Fieran tilted his head at the stack of books that Dacha held. “I see Ellie managed to get some of her books sent over in time.”
“Yes.” Dacha’s gaze darted about the room, something about him restless even if he didn’t do something as undignified as fidget. “Could you secure the signatures?”
“Sure.” Fieran took the books, juggling them for a moment as he added the latest one on top.
He didn’t ask why Dacha hadn’t gotten them signed the night before. Dacha didn’t do crowds like this, especially ones where he’d have to wait in line and talk to a stranger at the end.
“Can I drop them off at your room afterwards? Or will you be around so I can hand them back?” Fieran hefted the stack so that the weight settled more fully on his left arm. The paperbacks were deceptively heavy. “They’ll be safer and drier with you than with me.”