Chapter 17

Chapter

Seventeen

F ieran pressed against the wall in the command room to one side of Level 1 of Dar Goranth. The place was so packed with ship captains, commodores, admirals, and ranking officers that Fieran couldn't move from his spot along the wall without bumping into someone. He could barely see the topographical chart laid out on the large table dominating the center of the room.

Worse, Lt. Rothilion leaned against the wall only a few feet away, having also been shoved into this far back corner. If Merrik had been here at Fieran's side, Fieran would have at least been able to whisper comments to keep things interesting. As it was, he and the elf lieutenant ignored each other with icy silence.

"Scout planes from the Persatra Aerodrome reported the last position of the Mongavarian Fleet as here, racing toward Dar Goranth at the edge of the storm." The top admiral on the base pointed to a spot on the map. A female troll aide helpfully stepped forward, placing mini warships on the map, each one flying a tiny Mongavarian flag. "They have twenty-nine battleships, nine battlecruisers, fifteen light cruisers, and a flotilla of smaller surface ships. Their airborne fleet has fifteen large, heavily armed and armored airships and three smaller, scout airships."

Fieran mentally ran the calculations through his head. The fleets would be fairly evenly matched, though the weight of surface ships slightly tipped toward the Mongavarians since the Alliance had only twenty-two battleships, seven battlecruisers, twelve light cruisers, and lots of smaller warships of various tonnage. But the Alliance had twenty-two heavily armed airships, not to mention Fieran's squadron of aeroplanes.

And Fieran himself. He would count for a lot.

Of the surface ships, over sixty percent were Kostarian ships while the rest were Escarlish. Most were stationed out of Dar Goranth but the rest had been drawn out of the fleets stationed in other ports along the coast.

Even that was a bit deceiving. Escarland might have slightly less than forty percent of the surface ships mustered there—and most of those were the smaller ships—but a large number of the seamen on the Kostarian ships were Escarlish seamen on loan from the Escarlish Navy to the Kostarian Navy. Escarland might not field the same number of ships, but they provided much of the manpower.

Of the airships, all three kingdoms fielded roughly the same number, though Tarenhiel had the majority by a slight margin.

As the command meeting went on, the troll admiral divided up the fleet. Half of the fleet, named Battlegroup Anvil, would lure the Mongavarian fleet into the iceberg-filled waters between Brenzuk, Urixidor, and Drogenvroh Islands.

The other half of the Alliance Fleet, dubbed Battlegroup Hammer, would be hidden on the far side of Drogenvroh Island. Rokyd's and Lucien's ship the KS Vanguard was included in this battlegroup. Once the Mongavarians had entered, they would sail out and engage the enemy from the rear, pinning them between the two halves of the fleet in the narrow strait, where the larger Mongavarian fleet wouldn't have the room to properly maneuver, thus negating some of their superior numbers.

As the admiral explained this, his aide rushed about, quickly placing the various ships in their designated battle positions.

Secretaries and aides. The war effort wouldn't succeed without them.

The Alliance airships—Battlegroup Sky—would, of course, take on the Mongavarian airships and do their best to keep the airships out over the open sea rather than over the island or the battling fleets, both of which could be targets for bombing. Sathrah, on the KAS Dominion, would be a part of this battlegroup.

The troll secretary hurried forward again, placing miniature airships held aloft on wires and weighted stands in position on the map.

"Lt. Rothilion, Lt. Laesornysh, assist the airships at your discretion." The admiral peered in their direction, and the various generals and captains shifted awkwardly to make a clear sightline to them. "Laesornysh, the reports from the Battle over Bridgetown mention that you are capable of bringing down airships?"

"Yes, sir." Fieran pointedly ignored the way Lt. Rothilion grew even more stiff and chilly.

"Focus on eliminating the airships as early in the battle as you can without endangering yourself or your squadron in the crossfire between the enemy airships and ours." The admiral tapped the map. "That will free our airships to bomb what remains of the Mongavarian fleet."

"Yes, sir," Fieran said again. Sadly, the aide didn't move forward with any little aeroplanes to add to the battle map. Apparently the squadron was considered too inconsequential in the grand scheme of things to bother marking. A sign of the persistent disregard of the effectiveness of aeroplanes.

Or the aeroplanes would simply be too fast during the battle to bother moving as reports flowed in.

Either way, Fieran would ensure that his Flight proved their worth during the battle.

Pip stood at the top of the ladder to inspect the upper wing on Fieran's aeroplane. Both wings had been fully replaced, and she checked every single bolt and connection. If there was a loose bolt, Fieran's aeroplane could tumble from the sky.

After all this time, Fieran's aeroplane still lacked artwork. The gray flyer seemed strangely bland and boring compared to the rest of Flight B, so unfitting for Fieran, who was anything but bland and boring.

She couldn't miss anything in her inspection. Any mistake on her part would kill Fieran or one of the other flyboys.

More, they would be going into battle tomorrow. Already, the rain outside the hangar had slackened from a drumming to a more gentle patter. By the time dawn broke, the storm would too.

To one side, a troll communications officer fiddled with a telephone that he was installing next to the radio. As the high frequency aeroplane radios didn't connect with the low frequency radios in the communications room, a troll officer would be stationed here during the battle to pass messages back and forth.

"Hey." Fieran's voice came from below.

Pip peered down, finding Fieran leaning against the tail of his aeroplane and looking far too relaxed for someone who would go into battle in the morning. "Hey, yourself."

Ugh, her voice didn't come out nearly as nonchalant as his.

"It's late. You should get some sleep." His gaze sharpened on her, his eyebrows quirking upward.

"I need to finish inspecting the aeroplanes." She internally winced as she heard the near desperation in her own voice. "Besides, you're the one who needs sleep more than I do."

He was going to war in the morning. She would be here, safe and sound, listening to it all go down on the radio and helpless to do anything. Some of her flyboys might be killed, and even keeping their aeroplanes in top condition wouldn't prevent that.

Fieran gave her a slightly sterner look, holding out an arm as if for a hug. "Come on. You've inspected all the aeroplanes three times today already. They are pristine."

Pip gripped the edge of the wing as she stepped down from the tippy top of the ladder. Once she was a few rungs down, she released the wing and descended the ladder more quickly. As her feet touched the ground, she turned to Fieran.

She wasn't sure if that arm was truly an invitation or just a gesture for her to come down, but she needed a hug and her brother Mak wasn't here. Stepping closer, Pip wrapped her arms around Fieran's waist and rested her head against his chest, much as she'd done in the aftermath of the Battle over Bridgetown.

Whatever he'd meant, he wrapped his arms around her readily enough, without stiffening or flinching or drawing back as if the hug was unwelcome.

The gesture was simply the comforting hug of brother and sister. Surely. She didn't mean anything by it, despite the way her heart thumped harder. Her proximity to Fieran told her far too much about the strength of his muscles while the whiff of his minty soap clinging to him sent her head spinning.

Surely he didn't mean anything more than the offered comfort, despite his solid warmth and the way he held her as if she belonged in his arms.

"The sneak attack on Bridgetown was awful." Pip closed her eyes, not caring that she was talking into Fieran's shirt. "But knowing an attack is coming is awful too. We have time to dread it."

For a long moment, Fieran just held her, not speaking. Which was concerning. If even Fieran was at a loss for words, things were dire indeed.

"And just…just keep my aeroplanes pristine, all right?" She couldn't help the way she hugged him tighter. "None of this coming back with a wing half-ripped off."

He huffed a breath into her hair. "I'll do my best. And you be careful too. If the enemy airships get past us, they'll bomb Dar Goranth, and I know you'll use your magic to stop them."

Of course she would. It would mean that she wouldn't exactly be as out of the line of fire as either of them would like. But she couldn't just sit by and watch while the base was bombed.

Fieran's hand lightly ran up and down her back, sending tingles down her spine. The longer she stood there, held in his arms, the more her breath caught in her throat.

"Fieran…" Pip tipped her face up, only to find that Fieran had bent his head closer to hers.

His gaze flicked over her face as if drinking her in. His hand paused on her back, his fingers splaying as if he was preparing to pull her closer yet. He leaned still closer, as if he was iron and she was the magnet.

Pip tangled her fingers in the warmth of his uniform shirt, standing on her tiptoes. She'd never been kissed before, but this…this felt like a moment for kissing.

"I think I might like you." The confession tripped out of her unbidden, breathy in the shrinking space between them.

Fieran stilled, then blinked. After a long, agonized moment, his hands shifted from her back to grip her shoulders. "I like you too."

Those words would have been something to treasure, if he hadn't already been gently putting space between them, his grip on her shoulders light but firm as if he was consciously placing a barrier between them.

His gaze dropped from hers. "But we can't. I can't."

"Oh." Pip took another step back, and Fieran let his hands drop back to his sides. She resisted the urge to shiver at the loss of his warmth. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…I misinterpreted…"

Great. Now her voice was choking up, tears burning hot in her eyes. No way was she going to burst into sobs in front of him.

She should have just taken the comforting hug and not crossed that line of friendship. Things had been just fine. And now she'd gone and ruined it by admitting her feelings.

"No, no, it isn't…I didn't mind…I…this isn't coming out right." Fieran hissed a breath between his teeth as he gestured vaguely with his hands. "If we weren't at war, if we weren't serving in basically the same unit, then I'd ask you out on a date in a heartbeat. But I can't trust myself."

Pip hugged her arms over her stomach, her chest in such tight knots she could barely breathe. She didn't understand, and everything in her wanted to flee before Fieran said anything to make this moment even worse. "I trust you. You wouldn't do anything wrong."

"No, I wouldn't." Fieran waved helplessly again, his gaze flicking to her before lifting to stare at the distance over her head. "But I'd do something stupid. I'm impulsive. I proved that with the whole penguin sliding thing. It's easy to curb my impulsiveness when it comes to moral lines. If something is morally wrong, then there's a good reason not to do it. But other things that aren't wrong by themselves? That's harder. And if we were…together, I'd be tempted to sneak off to spend time with you. Or I'd be distracted at a crucial moment. Or something like that. I need to keep my focus right now."

"Oh. I see." She didn't like it. She wasn't sure if she was flattered or offended to be reduced to a distraction.

But she also understood. They would be facing battle tomorrow. Now wasn't the time to start dating or courting or change the status of their relationship from friendship in any way. Fieran was putting the safety of his flyboys ahead of his own personal feelings. She would have to do the same.

She drew in a shaky breath and plastered on a smile, even if it felt as painful as a palm sliced open on a sharp piece of metal. "So…friends. "

"Yes. Friends." Fieran's answering smile didn't reach his eyes either.

Pip spun on her heel. "You were right. I should get some sleep."

She hurried off as quickly as possible, not looking back or looking around. She didn't want anyone else to see her tears.