She waited until the press had cleared a little, then pushed forward to look at the notice.
They were grouped by team, pilot’s name first. Revna skimmed the sheet until she found hers.
PILOT: REVNA ROSHENA
NAVIGATOR: LINNÉ ZOLONOV
ENGINEER: MAGDALENA CHUIKOVA
Revna’s heart sank. Maybe Tamara thought they were friends. Maybe she’d seen some of their arguments far off and mistook them. Maybe it was bad luck. Or maybe Linné was keeping a close eye on Revna for her Skarov friends.
Or maybe everyone else had put in their requests, and no one had asked for her.
“Hey.” Magdalena touched her shoulder. She looked as if she’d been in the lab since the afternoon. Her frizzy hair was knotted at the base of her neck and grease smudged one cheek. “We’re together.” She walked with Revna to the nearest open seat. “I’m sure we can fend off the worst of her. Sit here. I’ll get your breakfast.”
Revna’s stomach felt heavy. They were one step closer now. She should be rejoicing for her friends and herself. She should be pleased that she was securing Mama and Lyfa their future. She should relish her chance to strike back at the Elda.
She couldn’t do that with Linné. She simply couldn’t. Linné was everything about the Union that had ruined Revna’s life.
Guilt twinged in her at the thought of Linné panicking in the cockpit. Revna could fly with her, even if it was difficult. If Revna forced Linné onto someone else, would she be dooming a different pilot? Then again, she comforted herself, Linné probably wouldn’t be so difficult if she were with a friend.
It’s Linné, her treacherous mind whispered. She hasn’t got friends.
Revna went to see Tamara as the engineers prepared for their next flight. Wind had blown every cloud out of the sky, leaving a deep blue dusk behind. Frost was beginning to form, making the hard ground slick beneath her feet. Messenger palanquins slid as they scuttled around the base, and Revna’s toes dug into the boards with each step. They were reluctant, like she was. Maybe it would be better to suck in her anger and try to get used to her new partner.
That was the old Revna talking. If she wanted to win a war for her friends and her family, she’d have to fight for herself.
Tamara’s office door was ajar, and Revna heard the uneven murmur of voices inside. She wanted to sit—her left leg chafed and she needed to adjust her prosthetic. But good soldiers didn’t barge in. Ha. Maybe Linné was rubbing off on her.
An impatient “Sir—ma’am—” caught her ear. She knew that voice. That smug, I-know-everything voice. The voice that left her ears ringing like a vicious slap. Would you fly with her?
Revna shoved open the door and went inside, grabbing the frame to keep steady as she crossed the threshold. Tamara and Linné looked up from where they sat. Linné’s cheeks flushed pink. Anger gripped Revna, as tight as the Strekoza’s metal fingers. Linné was the one dragging them both down. Linné was the one who couldn’t be trusted. She shook so hard she didn’t dare let go of the door frame.
Tamara regarded her calmly. “If you’ll wait outside, I’ll be with you in a minute.”
“I don’t want to be her partner any more than she wants to be mine,” Revna said. Linné’s flush deepened, erasing any doubt. Embarrassment rushed in to hit Revna full force. Mama would give her the telling-off of her life for questioning the order of a superior officer, and for saying that in front of Linné.
Tamara took a deep breath. “I’m sorry that your personal difficulties have interfered with your work. I hope that your objections are purely social, and not because you doubt each other’s ability in combat?”
The silence stretched long and heavy. Revna couldn’t bring herself to look at Linné.
Tamara rubbed at her forehead. “We’ve spent so many hours training that I’d have thought you’d be the last people to doubt your own readiness. As things stand now, it will be difficult for me to adjust the roster. The other girls have requested their partners and would need to consent to any change.”
Shame squeezed Revna’s chest. So she had been the only pilot left.
But there had to be another way. What could she do? Identify the problem, Papa would have told her.
Problem: Linné. How could she solve the problem when she had to work with the problem?
“Your examination flight is tomorrow,” Tamara continued. “General Tcerlin will be the presiding examiner, and he doesn’t have time for petty feuds. If you will consent to fly together, I’ll see what I can do regarding your permanent assignment. However”—the corner of her mouth twitched—“if the two of you truly cannot work with each other, it would be much better to preserve your safety and the safety of the plane. Shall I remove you from the roster?”
“No,” they both said. Revna’s toes dug stubbornly into the floor, cracking the cheap plywood. She wouldn’t be the only one left on the field. She recalled the feeling of the wind under her, the Weave stretched out like a silver blanket before her eyes. She remembered all the reasons she had to fight—for the Weave, for her family, for her friends. Being stuck with Linné was better than being grounded.
She ventured a look at Linné. Linné didn’t look back. Her hands clenched so hard that her knuckles stood out. She had a few freckles across the bridge of her nose. Revna had never noticed them before. She’d never seen Linné so pale.
Tamara surveyed them. “Then you can get along for now,” she said pointedly.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Revna.
“Absolutely, ma’am,” said Linné, not to be outdone.
Tamara sighed and pulled her typewriter toward her. For the first time, Revna noticed the bags under her eyes, the hollowness of her cheeks. Shame bit at her again. Her commander was bogged down with other problems. It was selfish to think that this was more important. “In that case, I would urge you to relax. Try to find a common ground. You may take that as an order from your commanding officer.”
She dismissed them, which left them with the uncomfortable task of leaving her office together.
“Listen,” Revna began as soon as they were out the door. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, but anything would be an improvement. Anything to get them working together.
“See you on the field,” Linné said, and turned away. She headed toward the edge of the base at a pace too quick for Revna to follow.
11
NEVER RETREAT
The final night of practice was torture, drawn out and meticulous and dull enough that Linné could feel every piece of her as it was spun through the engine to dissipate in the Weave behind them. Linné concentrated on Revna’s instructions, and thankfully Revna didn’t natter like the others. She only said, “Ready.” “Increase power.” “Decrease power.” She let Linné judge for herself when to aim and fire, and while blasting spark over the rim of the cockpit wasn’t the same as using her rifle, Linné knew she could pass that part of the test.
The Strekoza felt her discomfort, and it had taken Revna’s side. When Linné grasped the throttle, the living needle squeezed her wrist so hard she thought it would break the bones. Sweat dotted her hands and neck, making her shiver in the cold, open cockpit. The needle released her only reluctantly, and after practice she found herself rubbing at the long welt it left.
Thick clouds rolled in overnight and stayed through dawn, promising snow by noon. The examination was scheduled for the morning, and they would take their first assignment that night if all went well. Linné smoked cigarette after cigarette, grinding the stubs into the ground like a little line of soldiers as she waited for her pilot.
Her pilot. That more than the rascidine left a sour taste in her mouth. Not that any of the other girls had seemed better at flying in practice. And all of them had laughed at her, or worse. She was surprised no one had tried to get her kicked out of the regiment yet.
The 146th Night Raiders met outside the mess and walked to the airfield together without speaking, in a haze of smoke and nerves.
The bulk of their test would take place over a borrowed cabbage field, but first they had to greet their general.
A cluster of figures resolved as they approached. Tamara Zima stood between Colonel Hesovec and Nikolai Tcerlin. Tcerlin smiled, as usual. Zima’s expression was blank. It made Linné tense to look at her, as if Zima were a bomb that had failed to detonate.
Hesovec didn’t smile, though his trademark glower was less pronounced than Linné would have expected, considering how he’d fought to keep them from getting this far. Maybe he was certain they’d fail.
The girls came to order and stood straight and silent, hands behind their backs. Katya, near tears, took rattling breaths next to Linné. Don’t break down. She didn’t know whether she was directing the thought toward Katya or herself.
“Good morning,” Tcerlin said. A few of them mumbled good morning back, forgetting they weren’t supposed to. Tcerlin’s smile broadened, as though the mistake was charming rather than incompetent.
“Pilots and navigators,” Zima said, “prepare formation C-one. Engineers, remain for individual assignments.” The brusqueness of her voice matched her pale face. This was a test for her, too. To see if she could be an army commander even though she’d never been in the army.
They trooped to their planes. Formation C-1 was among the worst, and they’d practiced it to death. They flew as high as the little Strekozy could go, cut power, and swooped in like birds to drop their incendiaries. Linné could already feel her stomach in free fall.
She hopped into her seat. If she craned around, she could see Revna as she tumbled in, fingers slipping around threads Linné couldn’t sense. Sweat glistened on Revna’s forehead. “You shouldn’t do that so much,” Linné said. Using the Weave when she didn’t have to would only make her tired.
Revna ignored her. “Are you ready?”
“Are you?” Linné shot back. She’d never be ready. But if this was her only chance to fight, she’d take it.
Magdalena jogged up to the plane with two clay pots. She stopped in front of Revna first. Linné caught the top of her curly head as she peered over the side of the cockpit. “Flash bombs,” she said. “Don’t look down when you release them. Come back safe.”
Revna laughed. “It’s only a test run.”
Magdalena hooked the flash bombs under each wing. When she straightened, she met Linné’s eye. She didn’t smile. “Don’t ruin this for her,” she said, too quietly for Revna to hear.
Anger sent Linné’s spark flowing down to her fingertips. The Strekoza shivered as it tapped into her vein. She leaned toward Magdalena. “Would you like to be in here instead?”
“I should be.” Resentment blazed across Magdalena’s face, sharp and bold and angry.
Linné bit the inside of her cheek as the engine rumbled. She wouldn’t show fear to Magdalena. “If you were better with your spark, then you could be flying and we’d both be happier. Whose fault is that?”
Magdalena turned away.
Revna remained oblivious to the exchange. “Think we’ll pass?” she said through the speaking tube as she slid her hands into the flying gloves.
“No idea,” Linné replied.
“You could have said yes.”
“I don’t like to lie.” And she didn’t have the presence of mind for it, either. A foreign trembling resonated up her arms. Was it her, or was the plane skittish?
“Didn’t you lie about being a boy to enlist?”
“That was different,” Linné said. The discomfort pouring through the plane intensified. But it had been different. And if she’d lied more successfully, she wouldn’t be in this mess.
They sat in silence until it was their turn. An engineer named Nina waved her semaphore flags—not according to regulations, Linné noticed—and marked them for the next takeoff. “Increase power,” Revna said.
Linné pressed back into her seat. She couldn’t fail. The landing claws pushed off lightly and Linné fought the wave of sickness, the feeling that everything was wrong. She thought of her father again, but this time he wasn’t in his parlor, waiting for a disgraced daughter. This time, he stood on the steps of the old imperial palace, watching as she got a red firebird medal pinned to her chest. She didn’t know whether she wanted him to be proud or cowed, and she didn’t care.
The trick worked, and she was able to take a deep breath without hyperventilating. The Strekoza hooked into the Weave and lifted away. Linné risked a look down at Tamara Zima and Tcerlin. They seemed deep in conversation.
An engineer stood at the edge of the base, directing the formation. Linné spoke over the pounding of her heart. “Fall in. Prepare to bear southwest.”
They lined up behind Elena’s Strekoza and followed it for a couple of laps around the field. The plane pressed in around Linné, taking her nerves and mixing them with Revna’s. Beneath them, Zima, Tcerlin, and Hesovec loaded into an open-topped palanquin and sped toward the test site.
The 146th Night Raiders lapped until the engineer signaled again. Then they began to peel off southwest. The noise of the base became a whisper, and soon the only sound Linné could make out was the low hum of the Strekoza on the wind.
She spotted the tattered flag on the pole, barely visible in the gray gloom. Revna began to ascend in line with the others. Gravity dragged Linné into her seat. But this was still better than what came next. Her dread leached into the cockpit.
The first of the planes reached its peak. Its snub nose tilted in a free dive, hurtling toward the earth. Linné’s breath caught. If the navigator was too slow, she’d plow the Strekoza into the ground—but at the last moment the engine roared to life, sending out a wave of spark energy. The plane turned back toward the sky as something dropped from the port wing.
She wasn’t supposed to look. But the shot was beautiful. Right up until the flash bomb detonated. “Shit.” She clasped her free hand over her goggles. The throttle squeezed her wrist, making her grunt as the Strekoza prickled.
“Do you have to say things like that?” Revna said.
“Yes. I’m blind.”
“Magdalena told you not to look. How are you going to aim for the target now?”
“Go stuff yourself. It’s already clearing up.” The air inside the cockpit became warm, and the Strekoza sped forward as Linné’s spark edged out of her. She clamped back on it. If they overflew they might miss their target or hit Elena.
The next plane dove. A shadow flitted across its squat body. There was a hum in the distance, a strange, looping whoomp whoomp whoomp.
“Something’s wrong.”
“Still blind?” Revna asked.
“No. I hear…” Another plane? It sounded like an engine, a much larger engine than the Strekozy had.
Revna cocked her head. “It’s probably—”
A shadow fell across the Strekoza’s nose. “Something’s up here,” Linné said. And it wasn’t them or the winter birds. The Strekoza twitched, setting her heart skittering. Control the spark, she had to control the spark—
A dark shape dropped from the cloud cover above. Revna wrenched them into a sharp turn. More planes swooped in from the clouds. “What are they?” Revna cried. The Night Raiders’ formation shattered.
“What do you think?” They didn’t have time for stupid questions now. Linné’s mind began to focus, but her hands still shook. “Get me a clear shot at one.”
“What about the test flight?” Revna asked.
“Screw the test flight. This is war.” Linné leaned over to her side mirror. The sharp point of a fuselage loomed. “There’s one right behind us.” She’d seen these planes before. They were Falcon class, the smallest of the Elda Weavecraft. They harassed the lines while the Skyhorses and Dragons aimed for strategic targets.
The Strekoza shivered. “What do I do?” Revna said.
Linné couldn’t think like the soldier she’d been. Things didn’t work the same way in the air as they did on the ground. What had they learned in training? “Shake him. Don’t
let his navigator get a sight on you.”
“Do they have guns?” Revna’s voice quavered. The Strekoza began to lose control, jerking from side to side as if it didn’t know what it wanted.
Linné imagined a stream of flame gulping them down and spitting them out as twisted heaps of metal and flesh. The panic started to edge back in. Only now if she lost control, she’d kill them for sure. “Lose him.”
But they didn’t have to. The whoomp whoomp became a whoomp, clunk as the plane behind them lost power. Linné watched it angle down, disappearing from her side mirror. “What are they doing?” she wondered.
The enemy’s engine whirred back to life. It sped by beneath, too quick for Linné to aim. “They stalled,” Revna realized. “They couldn’t match our speed. We’re too slow for them.”
“Look.” Linné gripped the back of Revna’s chair. The Falcon was turning around. Another dark shape had stopped harassing a sister plane and was speeding toward them. “We’ve got to do something.”
“Find the problems,” Revna said.
“What?”
“We can’t go faster, and we can’t go higher.” She pulled the plane up. “So we’re going to dive, like formation C-one. Cut the power.”
“No chance. You’ll kill us.”
“Trust me,” Revna said.
Linné’s throat closed up. She let her spark wither back into her body. Her skin grew hot. The Strekoza lost all sound as it tilted toward the earth. Spark flashed at her elbow, grounding on the throttle’s needle. The plane trembled with their combined fear, but Revna held course. Yellow-red crept up Linné’s veins.
“He still coming?” Revna called.
“Still there,” Linné said. The world rushed toward them. Pleas jostled at the edge of her teeth, fighting to get out, to beg Revna to save them, to stop this death wish. She could see the grass of the field, the errant threads of the flag, the leaves on each tree, and still they were swooping down. Even the best pilot couldn’t get them out of this mess now.
We Rule the Night Page 15