Page 23 of Stalk the Sky
“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.