Page 38 of Stalk the Sky
“Yes!” A few of the others nearby pumped their fists.
Pretty Face’s grin dropped, likely as he realized that Fieran was giving him additional work. A more subtle punishment, perhaps, than having him just paint over the art, but a punishment nonetheless.
When he’d enlisted, Fieran had wanted to be in charge. But now…Fieran hated having to discipline his friends. Basic training had been so much easier, when they were all equals and he could just be one of them.
Despite that, he kept his tone firm. “However, there will be no art of scantily clad women, understand? We are not that kind of unit, and here in Kostaria, we have the honor of Escarland to uphold.”
A louder cheer this time, though there were a few groans.
Some of the other flyboys shouted over at Pretty Face.
“I want a portrait of my mama, can you do that?”
“How about a heart with my girl’s name in it?”
“I’d like an eagle!”
Fieran released a slow breath, trying to relax the tension in his shoulders.
Pip nudged him with her elbow, her voice low. “That was handled well.”
“Linshi.” Her quiet words banished the last of his tension.
Her mouth curved into a smile, the expression tugging at some of the dried paint on her face. “What are you going to have Pretty Face paint on your aeroplane?”
“I don’t know.” Fieran shrugged, his mind going blank. What would he want painted on his aeroplane? Something heroic? Something sentimental? “I’ll let Pretty Face work on everyone else’s first.”
That would keep him busy for a while, considering the shouted requests kept getting more and more elaborate.
By the time he got up to Fieran’s aeroplane, hopefully Fieran would have come up with something good.
A loud clanging rang through the passageway, yanking Fieran from sleep. He was sitting up and reaching for his uniform shirt before he’d fully registered what was going on.
Across the tiny room, barely visible in the darkness, Merrik sat up as well.
Footsteps ran down the corridor before someone pounded on Fieran’s door. “An airship has been sighted above Dar Goranth.”
“In this weather?” Fieran was on his feet and crossing the room without taking the time to finish buttoning his shirt. He yanked the door open to find Lije standing there. He must have been one of the flyboys on watch, for he was fully dressed and turned out already. Fieran gripped the door. “I’m assuming the storm hit?”
“Just the edge of it, so far. Lots of rain and some gusting wind.” Lije shifted from foot to foot.
Along the corridor, Stickyfingers was going from door to door, pounding on each one and shouting to be heard over the ringing warning bell. He must have been the other one on watch.
Merrik appeared beside Fieran, a wince creasing his face every time the alarm clanged. While the Escarlish forts still used the older bugles, Dar Goranth must have installed a newer bell-style alarm to send alerts throughout the base.
Fieran scrambled to button his shirt the rest of the way. “Wake the others and head for the hangar. I don’t know if Commander Druindar will order us up in this weather but be prepared.”
Lije nodded and hurried off to spread the word.
Fieran returned inside the room, sat on his bed, and quickly stuffed his feet into his thickest wool socks. He tugged on his boots but didn’t lace them, though the laces had been tucked inside and were now pressing against his feet. He’d switch to the warmer flight boots up in the hanger if they were ordered into the air.
Merrik threw his boots on as well, then the two of them raced from the room toward the stairs leading to the hangar. The lift would be too slow.
They took the stairs two at a time, reaching the landing for Level 24 just as Lt. Rothilion skidded into the stairwell. Lt. Rothilion merely acknowledged them with a glance before all three of them raced up the final set of stairs.
The hangar was lit with low red lights, a black curtain blocking the light from showing into the night.
Commander Druindar met them at the top of the stairs, somehow already fully put together in his white uniform. “Lt. Rothilion, Lt. Laesornysh, the observation post on Urixidor spotted the shape of an airship flying low and running dark, headed this way. We’ve checked, and it isn’t one of ours.”