Sky Knights

Chapter 1 “We’re approaching the coordinates.” Dounia hand-signalled back and concentrated on the landscape below, a forest dotted with snow and ice. Somewhere down there, beneath the treeline, lay the German front line. Dounia’s ear twitched and she grinned into the mirror spell that Ira had set up, and saw Ira’s return smile reflected back at her from the cockpit behind hers. “It’s time to cut the engines.” “I hate this part the most,” Meow said, from his position wrapped around Dounia’s shoulders. “Cutting engines,” Ira said, her voice muffled by the telephone spell that projected her voice into Dounia’s cockpit. The plane dipped, and Dounia’s stomach plunged as they descended. The engines stilled and quieted, leaving the three of them alone in the air, with only the whirling of the wind to accompany them. Meow’s ears flattened against his skull, and he curled tighter around Dounia’s shoulders. His claws scraped her skin, even through her leather bomber jacket. “Cats aren’t made for flying,” he complained against her ear. “And yet you always insist on coming.” “I can’t just let you two get yourselves killed without me, can I?” “Hey, quit your jabbering, you two,” Ira said. She winked through the lens of her goggles. “Are we in formation?” Dounia checked Ira’s other mirror spells that had been set up outside the plane to reflect what was behind them. “In formation. Going in.” She watched the two planes behind her and waited. Any moment, they were going to put on a burst of speed and distract the German anti-aircraft gunners so that she and Ira could go in for the bombing run. “And they’re off,” Ira said. “Bombs primed, coordinates approaching at two-hundred-and-fifty meters.” Dounia smiled. “Get ready, we’re going to have to do this fast.” “Every single time, you tell me this,” Ira said. “We’re used to it by now, surely.” “I will never be used to this,” Meow said, digging in his claws tighter. “Two hundred meters.” Dounia got ready, muscles coiled and ready for action. She flashed another grin at Ira in the mirror spell, feeling the adrenaline thrumming through her veins, skin practically bursting with it. Meow could complain all he liked; this was the best feeling in the world. “One-hundred-and-fifty meters.” She heard no sound of engines, just the wind whistling past——and if she strained her ears, the sound of anticipated snow. Dounia hoped they’d return before the blizzard started. Their formation had been pushing it with weather like this. But if it meant surprising the German lines, it was a risk the squadron had been willing to take. “One hundred meters. Seventy-five. Fifty and closing,” Ira said. “Get ready. Bombs away. Go!” Meow yowled as Dounia leapt into action, jumping out of her seat and carefully edging her way across the wing of the biplane as Ira mirrored her on the other side. Below, the treetops swept past in a blur, but Dounia ignored them. She wouldn’t fall, and she was fearless. The wind pulled at her, fighting to drag her off her perch, but being an air veteran extraordinaire, she knew how to keep on her feet. As soon as she was in position, she signalled to Ira. “This is sheer madness,” Meow muttered, tail lashing against the collar of her jacket. Dounia restarted her propeller, pulling the engine back into action by hand. The propeller roared to life, and she and Ira scrambled into their seats. Meow shivered against her neck and growled unhappily. She stroked his back, soothing him into compliance. Dounia steered the plane up and around. A few stray bursts of anti-aircraft gun rounds fired around them, but Dounia easily escaped them. She grinned, the thrill of flight running through her veins. “Reform. We’re going in for another run, maybe two.” The other two planes in their small formation regrouped with them in midair. This time, Dounia and Ira would be distracting the enemy so that their comrades could bomb them. “Is everyone still alright?” Dounia asked. “Looks like,” Ira replied. “Our formation comrades are both still intact, at least.” Meow growled again, low in his throat, and Dounia caressed the spot between his ears. “Steady, my brother.” “Why can’t you just blast them with a fireball?” Meow whined. “I might catch our wooden plane on fire,” Dounia replied. “And give away our position.” Just as they fell in line behind their comrades, the first snowflakes began to fall. The huge, fat flakes, fluffy and soft, drifted gently down to Earth. However, Dounia was certain that the snowfall would soon intensify. Before they knew it, they’d be snared in the midst of a white-out. Dounia didn’t want to land their plane in the middle of a blizzard, but they still had two runs to go. “We’d better make this quick,” Ira said. “We can make it.” “Are you sure?” Dounia asked. “We can make it,” Ira repeated, and Dounia didn’t argue. Somehow, Ira always knew. “Coming back around on coordinates,” Ira said, and Dounia refocused. This part was just as difficult as dropping their load over the German lines. They might not be cutting their engines this time, but they’d have to court the fire of the anti-aircraft guns. It was just as dangerous and just as exhilarating. “They’ve launched Messerschmitts,” Ira reported. “Stay on target.” The bar had been raised, but Messerschmitts had a stalling speed of less than their Po-2’s highest speed, so while a Messerschmitt could strafe them on a fly-by, tailing a Po-2 would stall their craft. A German plane roared by overhead, the engines drowning out all other noise, until the spatter of machine gun fire punctured the air. “We’re fine,” Ira said, obviously to soothe Meow’s ruffled feathers when a growl rumbled from his throat. “It missed us.” But luck had failed one of their stalwart comrades. The strafing run by the German planes had damaged that plane beyond help, and it spiralled down, yawing wildly through the frigid, snow-filled air. It flailed like a flake on the wind, to its resting place in a frost-coated strand of trees. “They might still be alive,” Dounia said, straining to see any movement below. “Stay on target,” Ira repeated. “Our other comrade is still aloft and needs to drop bombs. Approaching coordinates, put on speed…now!” They shot ahead, and a moment later, a spotlight discovered them. Dounia dragged at her controls, dodging the ray of light that illuminated them and made them a target. The anti-aircraft guns started firing, and Dounia saw the puffs of smoke below as the guns emptied their fire into the night. “At least we know we’ve found the German lines,” Dounia said, grinning. “Messerschmitt!” Meow screamed, claws digging in painfully. Backlit against the night sky, they tempted the guns to target them. This time, the strafing run damaged their plane. Dounia ducked her head as bullets cascaded all around her, digging into the frame of their craft and blasting chunks out of it. When Dounia raised her head again, they remained aloft, if not completely intact. “Everyone okay?” Dounia asked. “No thanks to anything you did,” Meow grumbled against her ear, and his fur bristled her cheek. “Fine,” Ira said, her voice tight with tension. Dounia focused her eyes on her fellow aviator, and her heart leapt at the sight of blood, dark against the sleeve of Ira’s jacket. “You’re hit,” she said. “Yes, it’s a scratch,” Ira replied. “Nothing to worry about. I’m fine.” “You’re not fine!” Dounia said, baring her teeth. There was nothing to be done in their cockpits thousands of feet above ground. They needed to return to base. Their craft was damaged, and one of their pilots injured. Surely, they could turn back at this point. “We can turn back,” Ira said, somehow realizing what Dounia was thinking. “Our last plane was taken down, bombs and all, and the blizzard is picking up. We got in five runs tonight anyway.” Without thinking or replying, Dounia turned them around, heart thrumming in rage and worry. Now that she could concentrate, she smelled the hot, metallic tang of Ira’s blood as it permeated the cockpit. “You’re going to be fine,” Dounia said. “Of course,” Ira replied. “Of course.” The rest of the squadron clearly had the same idea, and they rose into the sky, above the first layer of clouds, away from the brewing snowstorm. Now that they were safe, Meow crawled off Dounia’s shoulders and scrambled toward Ira to check her injury. Of course, Meow couldn’t actually help, but he hated Ira being hurt as much as Dounia did. So worried about Ira, Dounia could barely concentrate on landing the plane, but forced herself to pay attention. Landing in a crosswind with snowfall threatening to turn into a full-on blizzard was no easy matter. A shockingly cold burst of wetness against her cheek startled Dounia. Earlier, Ira had shielded their cockpits with spells to block the elements from entering, but the spells were obviously failing. Ira usually renewed them when they did, but she was more occupied with tying a tourniquet around her arm. They would be fine, Dounia told herself. They were nearly back to base, then Ira could get medical treatment. Meow was being more of a nuisance than help, nudging at Ira’s arm and stalking back and forth across her lap, bristling and twitching in agitation. Ira allowed him, smiling slightly, and not seeming to mind the inconvenience. The plane in front of them dipped, and Dounia followed their lead. She kept the plane steady, even as they broke through the clouds and re-emerged into the beginnings of a raging snowstorm. More snowflakes broke past the shield spell, hitting Dounia’s face. Her goggles protected her eyes. Ira finished tying off the tourniquet and studied her instrument panel. As the navigator, she was supposed to lead them to base. Although Dounia was following the other planes in their formation, it was better if Ira guided them. “Adjust our course by two degrees,” Ira said. “We’re almost there, fifteen-point-two kilometers out. Start your decent now.” Dounia followed her instructions, but cast a worried glance at Meow as he returned to her shoulders. “She’s losing a lot of blood,” Meow whispered. “I’d say just over a pint.” “Did it hit a major blood vessel?” Dounia asked. “It took a chunk out of her arm,” Meow reported. “Upper arm. I don’t think it hit a major vessel, but we need to get her to the surgeons as soon as we land.” “I can hear you worrying over there,” Ira called, sounding amused. “I’m fine.” “A pint of blood is no laughing manner,” Dounia returned. “Your body has only five to lose!” “Are you paying attention to our altitude? I know I am,” Ira said. “And we need to adjust again because while you were distracted, we drifted off course.” Dounia clenched her teeth, but returned to the controls, forcing herself to concentrate on flying the plane rather than on her wounded comrade. If she crashed, it wouldn’t matter if Ira was bleeding, because neither of them had parachutes. “Coming in, adjust your heading by fifteen degrees on my mark…now,” Ira said. Dounia made out the snowy runway in the dark, the lights of the ground crew glowing like fireflies, beacons in the night. “I was lying earlier, I hate this part more,” Meow said, ears flat against his skull. The ground rose up in front of them, and Meow clenched his eyes shut as they came in for their landing. The controls jarred in Dounia’s hands, but the plane stayed steady, slowing in spite of the ice building up on the runway. “Are we down?” Meow asked. “We’re down,” Dounia said, taxiing off the runway and finding her berth through the rising storm. The ground crew came to strap down their plane, and Dounia climbed out of her cockpit, then rushed to help Ira, who struggled to climb out of the back cockpit using only one arm. Ira gave her a fond smile. “Come on, we need to get to the medical bay,” Dounia urged, getting an arm under Ira’s uninjured arm. “I got blood on my map,” Ira complained. “Do you think supply will let me have a new one?” “I wouldn’t count on it,” Dounia sighed. When even the best pilots received second-hand male uniforms that didn’t fit properly and open-cockpit planes, getting a new map was probably out of the question. Speaking of their plane…Dounia took a moment to glance at their kukuruznik for damage. The thing was held together with bits of Ira’s constructive magic and determination. It was a few more bullet holes the worse for wear, but still mostly in one piece. Their little planes were tough, for all they were old and made of wood and canvas. Ira removed her bomber hat, and her thick, brown hair fluffed up when freed from its confines. She and Ira had met the day when all the women in the regiment were ordered to cut their hair to military regulations. It had grown a bit since then, but when it had been sheared off by the military barbers, it had been long enough for Ira to sit on. Dounia hadn’t cared when her hair had been cut, and had actually enjoyed the freedom of movement it gave her. She kept it cropped short, like the male aviators. Ira, on the other hand, had been upset for the entire week after her haircut. However, a haircut was a small price to pay in exchange for being allowed to fight for their homeland. There was a line-up for the surgery when they arrived. Ira wasn’t the only one to come away scored from the battle. “Look, mine’s not so bad,” Ira pointed out cheerfully. “I would prefer it if your face remained unmarred by bullet shrapnel,” Dounia replied dryly. “At least I can still use this arm,” Ira said, laughing. Dounia didn’t think any of their comrades being injured was a laughing matter, especially not Ira, and stiffened silently. Ira noticed immediately and grasped Dounia’s upper arm. “Dounia, dear one, I’m fine. The doctor will see me soon.” Before either of them could speak, another pilot, Svetlana Romanovna, popped in her head. “Dounia, you’ll never guess who’s here!” Dounia raised her eyebrows questioningly. She was in no mood for guessing. Sveta sighed. “Tanya.” Dounia thought she’d been on edge before, but her stomach lurched at hearing the name before tying itself into a knot. Tanya wasn’t supposed to be here. but back in Moscow, where it was safe. Torn, Dounia looked back and forth between Sveta and Ira. “Go,” Ira said. “You need to see her. Meow will look after me, won’t you?” Meow answered by uncurling from around Dounia’s shoulders and jumping to Ira’s. That was all Dounia needed to hear. She rushed after Sveta, into the growing storm, shoulders tight with tension and stomach churning. One Tsareva sister was enough of a sacrifice to the motherland. Why was Tanya here?