Chapter 8

Chapter

Eight

P ip stared as crate after crate was lowered from the hovering Escarlish airship. Troll workers used wheeled carts to maneuver the crates into the underground hangar.

"Those are our aeroplanes?" Pretty Face gaped in undisguised horror, made even worse by the sparse prickles of the mustache and tiny beard he was re-growing now that the regulations against facial hair were lifted.

"Apparently everyone neglected to mention that some assembly would be required." Fieran sighed as he used a crowbar to lever open one of the crates and peered inside. "I'm not sure what else I expected. Shipping over thirty completed aeroplanes would have been difficult."

"But a lot more convenient." Pip took in the stacks upon stacks of crates. How were her and her four mechanics going to assemble this many aeroplanes? Perhaps Baragh could shift some mechanics from elsewhere in Dar Goranth to help, though doing so would put those mechanics behind in their other duties.

Fieran fished out a roll of paper and held it out to her. "I think these are instructions."

She unrolled it, discovering a schematic of the aeroplane with the parts somewhat spaced out and arrows showing where they belonged. But everything was so layered over each other that it was hard to tell what she was looking at for a moment, even though she was an experienced mechanic. "These schematics leave something to be desired."

Fieran left the crate and peered over her shoulder. "No kidding."

"It's going to take us weeks to build all of these." Pip grimaced, not wanting to see the look on Fieran's face. "Sorry."

"Put us to work." Fieran gestured to the cluster of gawking flyboys. "You have thirty out-of-work flyboys itching to get into the sky."

Right. Why hadn't she thought of that? Most of the flyboys wouldn't be skilled labor. Some, like Pretty Face, probably didn't even know the difference between a wrench and a screwdriver. But they would be extra hands to hold things in place for those who did know what they were doing.

"That's a good idea." Pip rolled the schematics up and turned to better face him. "You and Merrik have just as much experience as some of the mechanics."

"I think Tiny has some experience in mechanics and stuff like that as well." Fieran pointed to where Tiny was helping the troll workers unload the cargo. "His da works on engineering and infrastructure projects in Aldon."

Pip nodded. "Good call. Divide up your men into eight teams. We can all start unloading and organizing things, then set up stations like one of your Escarlish assembly lines. We can put Tiny and the less experienced mechanics on the first few stations, then work up to my team as the final one."

Perhaps building these aeroplanes was doable after all.

Fieran quickly had his men divided up. He assigned Stickyfingers and Lije to Tiny's team but kept Pretty Face for his own team. Pretty Face was apt to whine over extra work, and his background as a wastrel noble's son meant he was about as unhandy as it was possible to get.

As the men set to work opening the crates, moving the elven aeroplanes to make room for stations in the hangar, and gathering tools, an airman approached Fieran and Pip. He glanced between them, then faced Fieran. "Lt. Laesornysh?"

"That would be me." Fieran stepped forward.

The airman held out a clipboard. "Could you please sign for the shipment of the aeroplanes?"

Fieran took the clipboard, glanced at the shipment list, and counted the crates. He counted a second time. "There are twenty crates, but this list has only eighteen."

"Those two over there are from this shipment." The airman reached over and flipped to a second page. "I'll need you to sign for those as well."

Fieran caught a glimpse of the AMPC header on the second paper, and the contents made him grin. He quickly signed both sheets and handed the clipboard back. "There you go."

"Thank you, sir." The airman saluted before spinning on his heel and marching toward the rope ladder stretching from the hovering airship .

Fieran grinned at Pip, motioning to her. "Come on. You'll want to see these last two crates."

Pip trotted next to him as he hurried across the hangar. He tried to remember to temper his stride so he didn't make her run, but it was hard when all he wanted to do was dig into those crates.

When he reached them, he found an envelope taped to the top of one of the lids. He peeled it off and ripped it open.

Fieran,

Uncle Lance talked the war office into letting your squadron test the air-to-air radio prototypes, given that you have two certified magical engineers as pilots and a certified engineer mechanic as well. A few squadron captains at some of the other aerodromes are squawking at favoritism to the king's nephew and blah, blah, blah, but Uncle Lance and Uncle Julien got their way. Your squadron is the only one that can properly test the prototypes and give accurate feedback.

I've also thrown in the new shielded, gyroscopic compasses. You're welcome.

Stay safe. Don't crash.

Louise

"What is it?" Pip had a crowbar in her hand, but she hadn't yet started prying the lids off the crates.

Fieran's grin was so wide it nearly hurt. "A gift from Weezer."

"Weezer?" Pip's eyebrows rose at that.

"My sister Louise." Fieran laughed at the look on Pip's face. "When she was born, Adry and I couldn't pronounce her name. Louise ended up Wo-weez, then just Weez. And from there everyone started to call her Weezer, and the nickname stuck. "

"What a nickname." Pip shook her head. "That makes Pipsqueak—my brother's nickname for me—seem normal."

"Pipsqueak, huh?" Fieran nudged her, still grinning.

"Yeah, don't get any ideas. I've been purposely not telling any of you flyboys that tidbit." Pip scowled at him, then gestured at the crate. "What did your sister send?"

"Well, technically it's from my Uncle Lance." Fieran patted the crate. "Radios for our aeroplanes to test out, along with compasses that have been shielded so they won't be thrown off by the magi-magnetism of the engines."

"That will be handy for navigation." Pip attacked the first crate with the crowbar. "I've been worried about you flying off and getting lost somewhere out there in the wild blue yonder."

As she pried out the nails, Fieran levered the boards the rest of the way off. "No worries about me or Merrik. But Stickyfingers still can't seem to get his calculations right. I won't be sending him off on any patrols by himself."

Pip gave a shudder before she pried at the next nail. The crowbar glinted with her magic, and Fieran guessed she was sending her iron magic down the crowbar into the nail as she pried it off. While her magic flowed directly like an elf's, using it in conjunction with a tool like that was a very dwarven way of going about it.

Once he and Pip had the lid off, the two of them peered inside the crate. A row of what looked like metal boxes with a few switches on the front and wires curling from the back rested inside, padded with sawdust to keep them from shifting.

A paper lay on top, and Pip picked it up and opened it. "A diagram of the radio and a brief explanation of how it works. A few suggestions on how and where to install it, but it seems some of that still needs to be figured out. "

"Perhaps once the teams have put together a few aeroplanes, you can shift to figuring out how to hook up the radios and install the compasses." Fieran tilted a radio to inspect first the face, then the wiring at the back. It appeared to need power from the magical power cell to operate.

A part of him wanted to put everything aside to fiddle with it and figure out exactly how it worked.

But no. He was the flyboy here. He'd leave this to Pip's capable hands.

Pip glanced first from the schematics to the radio before finally lifting her dark brown eyes to meet his almost shyly. "Perhaps we could do it together? Apparently the radios work using both radio waves and a magical resonance, and that's more your area of expertise, given it's your family's magic powering it. If we could find a magical power cell fueled by your magic, that would be even better for our initial testing."

"I'd be happy to help." Fieran met her gaze, something like excitement filling him, though it was warmer and deeper than merely that.

He hadn't wanted to step on her toes. She was the chief mechanic for his Flight, and she had a great deal of experience. She could install this herself easily enough.

But if she asked for his help, then he'd gladly give it.

With eight teams of flyboys and mechanics working on them, the aeroplanes took shape far more quickly than Pip had expected, even if more than a few of the flyboys grumbled about having to build their own aeroplanes.

At least they'd been sent the very latest T-05 Soarwings. Those were worth the wait .

Pip had her head down in the engine compartment, her toes barely touching the top of the ladder, as she positioned the radio box behind the engine. "How's this? Do your knees hit it?"

Fieran, sitting in the cockpit of one of the nearly finished Soarwings, shifted as he worked the rudder bar. "No, I think that's good now. Neither my knees nor my shins knock into it."

"Good. It will be easy to wire the power in this way." Pip used her magic to secure the box into place. She'd have to work out some kind of bolting system later so that the other mechanics could get the radios in and out as needed, but this would do for now. "I can wire the channel and talk toggles onto our new front panel."

"Would it be possible to put the talk toggle onto the control stick instead?" Fieran folded himself in half so that he could peer at her. "Until someone figures out how to rig the gun firing mechanism on the control stick, we'll already have to let go to fire the guns."

"Good idea. Yes, I can do that easily enough. Perhaps a button that you can press and hold to talk instead of a toggle?" Pip worked her way out of the engine compartment and more firmly onto the ladder. "I was thinking we would wire the receiver and earpieces into your flying caps. If I add a connector built into the aeroplane about here"—she tapped the side of the aeroplane's frame near Fieran's elbow—"you could just plug in the wire there. Perhaps it could even run under your coat down your back. That would keep the wire from getting in the way of your hands."

"Another good idea." Fieran grinned at her, wide and open.

The expression had her grinning back, an effervescent kind of bubbling in her chest. There was just something more about working with Fieran like this. He saw her skills, appreciated them, and didn't just dismiss them because she was a female.

She didn't feel like she had to prove anything with Fieran. He let her carry the heavy stuff, do the mechanics, and expected her to know what she was doing. And that was awfully nice.

After sticking her head and upper torso back into the engine compartment, Pip uncoiled the heavy gauge wire that had come with the radio. The connection to the magical power cell's terminal was, at least, easy and already thought-out for her. Fieran's sister or the inventor Lance Marion must have designed that connection while they were building and testing the radios.

"Which aeroplanes do you want the two-channel radios in?" Pip took out her wrench to loosen the bolt holding the wiring harness in place on the power terminal.

Most of the sixty-some radios had only a single frequency channel. But five of the radios were an even more complicated design, featuring two separate frequencies so that those five radios could talk to each other without the others overhearing.

"Lt. Rothilion and I should each have one, then Merrik and whoever Lt. Rothilion has as his second-in-command for his Flight." To Fieran's credit, he only grimaced slightly on Lt. Rothilion's name.

"Then this aeroplane is either yours or Merrik's, since I already have this two-frequency radio half-installed." With her wrench, Pip removed the bolt holding the ending of the wiring harness that ran from the power cell to the engine.

The thump that reverberated through the aeroplane's wooden frame around her was likely Fieran patting the wooden side. His voice drifted down through the open space by his feet to the engine compartment. "I'm already growing fond of this one. Merrik will have to get the next one."

"We'll let him pick his favorite." Pip removed a few more bolts, taking off the single output end from the magical power cell connection housing. She dug the new double end out of her pocket, then bolted it on instead, appreciating the design and workmanship of whoever had designed these to be easily switched out. It was the work of a moment to bolt both the engine wiring and the radio wiring into place. "Who should get the fifth radio?"

"I was thinking that one should go here for the ground support." Fieran shifted his feet slightly, accidentally knocking her shoulder with his toe. He scrunched his legs up higher with an apology before he continued, "We'll want one of the radios here on the ground anyway so that we can radio in alerts once we are in range."

"I'll have to see if I can rig an antenna so we can install the radio in a corner of the hangar somewhere." Pip inspected her connection one last time. If she'd done everything right, then the radio should have power. "Perhaps I can boost the ground radio's range with as big an antenna as the trolls will let me build. These radios will be nice, but they have an incredibly short range."

"A long range isn't necessary for communicating during battle, and that's what we need them for, mostly." Fieran tapped his fingers on the control column, like he was itching to take to the sky now that he had an aeroplane built. "But, yes, a longer range for the ground radio would be very handy if we spot something while out at sea. The extra few minutes' warning that we could give Dar Goranth might make all the difference. "

Pip patted the radio and withdrew her head. "Turn the power on."

A click sounded as Fieran flipped the switch that let the magic flow from the power cell into the engine, and now the radio. A hum filled the space as the engine wound up. A slightly less noticeable buzz came from the radio.

She couldn't test if the radio was functioning as a radio yet, but at least it had power and there weren't sparks of magic or the smell of overheating metal indicating it was about to explode. "All right. It's getting power. You can turn it off now."

Fieran flipped the switch off, and the engine's humming slowed. "Do you still need me here?" He braced his hands on either side of the cockpit, preparing to lever himself out.

"No. Actually, could you grab a roll of wire? I have a wire cutter and pliers." Pip climbed down her ladder. "I'll start working my way inside the aeroplane, but I need your legs out of the way."

"Got it." Fieran pushed out of the cockpit, then hopped out of the aeroplane easily.

As he strolled away with that ground-eating, long-legged stride of his, Pip pushed the ladder closer to the wing. She stepped from the ladder to the step built into the side of the plane, using one of the wing supports to pull herself up and onto the wing. She was careful to place her foot on one of the wooden braces that formed the wing instead of the stretched canvas.

While Fieran could step over the side of the cockpit with ease, it was thigh-high for her. She rather awkwardly lifted her knee to her nose to get her foot high enough to clear the side. Straddling the wooden side, the slight leather padding around the edge making it not too uncomfortable to sit on, she reached her toe for the seat. Once she found it, she swiveled her weight onto that foot, then hopped as she angled her other leg up and over.

After settling in the cockpit, sitting down wasn't too much trouble. She wasn't sure why Fieran always found it so tight. There was plenty of room for her to not only sit but also kneel and crawl into the space where his legs were normally jammed.

When she was comfortably lying in the space with the radio just above her head, she set to work getting the terminals ready to attach the various wires.

The ladder squeaked again before Fieran's head appeared by the engine compartment hatch. "Glad I'm not the one wedging myself in there."

"You know, everyone expects mechanics to be large and brawny men, like Baragh or my brother Mak. But there's something to be said for being conveniently tight-space-sized." Pip reached out a hand. "Give me the end of the wire."

"Very true. A highly overlooked qualification." Fieran gave her the end of the wire, then held the spool so that it easily unrolled while she tugged. The tone of his voice changed. Still light, but also a touch more serious. "I have a question I've been meaning to ask you."

"Go ahead." Pip tugged out several feet of wire, gauging how much she'd need and giving herself a little extra just in case, before she cut it with her wire cutter.

"You don't have to answer if it's too personal." Fieran set down the spool of wire and leaned an elbow against the side of the aeroplane beside the open hatch. "But I'm curious. You went to Hanford University for a magical engineering degree because you were inspired by my dacha. So why didn't you get a job at the AMPC? With your skills and magic, you could have had one easily if you'd wanted one. "

Pip stilled partway through stripping the end of the wire. She had to take a breath before she could force her hands to continue moving to hook up the correct wires to the right spots in the radio. "I thought about it. I thought about it a lot, actually. But when the time came, I just…I just couldn't do it. After four years away, I missed home. Sure, I'd visited during breaks, but it wasn't the same."

Fieran waited as she paused, as if he sensed there was more to it. How could he possibly know her so well already to sense such a thing?

She fiddled with the wire, not looking at him. "I hate to admit it, but I was scared. I couldn't shake the terror of applying and having my childhood hero turn me away. It would have crushed me. Silly, I know. With my magic, I would have been hired. And your dacha probably has nothing to do with the actual hiring. Yet no matter how much I told myself that, I just couldn't bring myself to apply. I had an application. I had it filled out and everything. I carried it around with me for weeks during my last semester. I guess…I guess I just wasn't ready, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." Fieran's voice was soft.

Pip scooted back toward the cockpit, stringing the wire as she went. She'd either need some kind of tacking nails or an elf to secure the wire to the wooden frame so it wasn't dangling loose.

Perhaps she'd ask for Merrik's help. She'd need him to encase the wire in the wooden control stick anyway.

But not quite yet. She was enjoying her time with Fieran too much at the moment.

"What about you?" She sat up on the cockpit seat, smoothing the wild tendrils of hair that had frizzed out of her messy bun. "Why didn't you start flying before now? You could have bought or built your own aeroplane, gone to one of those flying schools, and become a pilot well before now if you'd wanted to. I know how badly you wanted to fly. So why didn't you just do it?"

Fieran stilled, even his hands freezing for a moment before they took up fidgeting again by sliding over the side of the aeroplane as if he was petting his favorite horse. "I just wasn't ready, I guess."

He flicked a small, lopsided smile her way at the echo of her words before he dropped his gaze back to the aeroplane. "I thought about it. Lots of times, in fact. But while I don't mind being involved with the inventing side of things, I don't love it. So flying for the sake of invention didn't hold as much appeal to me. And as much as I love the thrill of flying, I just couldn't risk myself without a purpose. I couldn't do that to my family. But the Flying Corps—defending the Alliance Kingdoms—that was the purpose in flying I needed."

"You wanted to be a warrior like your dacha." It was Pip's turn for her voice to go soft with a shared understanding. "Following in his footsteps without actually following in his exact footsteps."

"That too." Fieran shrugged. "It was both the military and the flying that drew me. I needed both, together, to finally be ready."

"I get that." Pip pretended to be inspecting the control stick and the end of the wire she'd strung. "Were we ready, you think?"

"Probably not as much as we thought we were." Fieran's lopsided grin flashed again before he bent down and retrieved another roll of wire. "I brought the wire for the receiver and earpiece as well."

"Good. We can string that, then I'll need Merrik's help to finish up." Pip pushed off the seat, preparing to wiggle back into the footwell.

"With what do you need my help?" Merrik strolled over to them, a set of work goggles pushed up into the strands of his growing hair. Thanks to the fast-growing property of elven hair, it was now long enough past Escarlish regulation length to appear slightly shaggy.

"Securing the wires." Pip ducked her head and crawled into the aeroplane's body before Merrik could catch a glimpse of any kind of disappointment on her face.