“Do insist that she finish dressing first.” Aunt Tadelay pursed her lips again. “Really, Rysha, it’s inconsiderate of you to stand there in your brazen nakedness while we have this discussion.”
Rysha realized she had let the bedspread slip. She sighed again and picked up the rest of her clothing. She wanted to go to dinner with Trip, not her family, but her mother and aunt had her worried now in regard to what was going on at home. She had better find out as much as possible. Hopefully, there would be time to see Trip later.
5
Trip knelt back from the parachute he was carefully folding to place into a pack and checked his pocket watch. Fifteen minutes before he needed to leave the hangar so he could trot across the fort and arrive in time to see Rysha’s initiation ceremony. He’d already gotten permission from Colonel Tranq to do so, though he’d had to promise to come back after final formation and finish packing parachutes. Seventy-five of the approved models, guaranteed to not get pilots killed if they used them, had arrived in crates that morning. He, some of the ground crew, and several others from Wolf Squadron had the honor of inspecting them and storing them for use.
“You’re paying attention to what you’re doing, right?” Colonel Tranq asked, walking up behind him.
“Yes, ma’am.” Trip slipped the watch into his pocket.
“Because not all of us can flap our arms and levitate ourselves to safety if our fliers are shot down.” She stopped at Trip’s side to look down at his work.
A stout woman barely over five feet, Colonel Tranq rolled along like a tank when she was on the ground but had the grace and agility of a ballerina when in her flier. She kept her graying hair cut as short as most of the men’s, and had a weathered face that made her appear closer to fifty than the forty she was.
“Trip doesn’t flap his arms, ma’am,” Leftie said from his side. “He just walks across the air real casual, like the hot air from his farts is pushing him aloft.”
“Thanks so much for correcting her,” Trip murmured.
“Any time, buddy.” Leftie, who also knelt in front of a parachute, made a circle with his thumb and fingers in the typical pilot’s ready or all-good sign.
“I’m sure something of his flaps,” Tranq muttered and walked off to inspect other people’s work.
“Yes, ma’am, but he keeps that buttoned in his trousers.”
Trip shook his head, not particularly mortified, as penis and fart humor was an hourly occurrence in the hangar. It certainly didn’t seem to bother Colonel Tranq.
“What’s taking so long, Ahn?” Tranq asked, stopping behind the captain. “You knitting that parachute from scratch?”
“No, ma’am,” the slender Captain Ahn said, her fingers sliding along the line of the parachute. “I’m carefully inspecting the seams before folding it for the pack. When I was a young lieutenant, I was among those who tested the early models of parachutes. I was along when one of our people didn’t make it.”
“Ah, carry on, then.”
“And I also do not have anything to flap to get myself to safety.” Ahn, freckled, fine-featured, and also short of hair and height, cocked a single eyebrow in Trip’s direction.
It had been three weeks since Trip had gotten back from his mission and truly joined Wolf Squadron, and he’d flown on a few short missions with the pilots, but they hadn’t seen much true danger together yet, and he wasn’t sure how his new squadron mates felt about him. He was doing his best not to sense the emotions and thoughts of his fellow soldiers, mostly because the first few times he’d done it, he’d found them wary and mistrustful of going up with someone who had magic. As if he might do something unprecedented and dangerous that would put the squadron at risk. Apparently, they didn’t mind flying into battle with ally dragons, but having an ally who was half-dragon… That was just weird.
“Nothing extra in the trousers, eh, ma’am?” Leftie asked Ahn. “I bet that Deathmaker of yours is tickled.”
“He prefers to go by Tolemek. Or Dr. Targoson now that he’s earned an Iskandian medical degree.”
“Does he? He sounds kind of stuffy.”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t irk Captain Ahn,” Trip suggested to Leftie, “given her reputation for marksmanship.”
“What did I say that could irk her? Now, I could see Dr. Deathmaker being irked, but…”
“You called her boyfriend stuffy.”
“Some girls like that in a man.”
Ahn had turned to have a quiet conversation with Colonel Tranq and was ignoring Leftie’s further comments. That was likely good for Leftie.
There is trouble afoot, Telryn, Azarwrath spoke into his mind from his spot in Trip’s flier. Folding clothing is not the best use of your time today.
What trouble? And it’s not clothing.
Folding anything is beneath you. Dragons are coming.
Trip stretched out with his mind and immediately sensed a dragon flying over the harbor. He stood up, turning toward the open hangar bay.
Outside, rain fell from heavy gray clouds. Trip recognized Shulina Arya’s familiar aura and was relieved, since it didn’t look like a fun day to fly into battle. Then he sensed Rysha on her back and frowned—why was she flying in the rain instead of standing ready for her ceremony?
Shulina Arya flew toward the hangar, and Trip sensed a second dragon heading in their direction from farther up along the coast. Bhrava Saruth, perhaps flying south from his temple.
Rysha? Trip sent the question out toward her.
Trouble, she replied promptly. I was getting ready for my ceremony when Shulina Arya arrived to let me know. A bunch of dragons just converged on Portsnell, and they’ve proclaimed it’s now theirs.
I have been there before, Bhrava Saruth announced, thrusting himself into their telepathic conversation. My high priestess’s mate’s mother’s sister lives there.
General Zirkander’s… aunt? Trip asked, working through all the relations.
Yes, I believe that is the human term. She makes lovely cinnamon dragon-horn cookies. Also, I have sixteen worshippers in the town. It is imperative that we protect them. I would have already gone, but the odds of surviving a battle with all my scales intact against six dragons are poor. Against three, I am certain I would be victorious.
Uh huh.
“Now, I’m certain you’re not paying attention,” Colonel Tranq said, walking up to frown at Trip, then out the open hangar door at the empty gray sky, then back at Trip.
The dragons hadn’t yet come into sight.
“Trouble is coming.” Trip looked down at the parachute and willed it to fold itself so it would deploy properly when needed. Given the size of the item, this wasn’t a subtle display of magic. Usually, he wouldn’t have shown off his powers in front of the others, but if the squadron was sent north to fight those dragons, someone might need that parachute soon.
Tranq stared as the folded parachute slid into its pack, seemingly by itself, and the straps tightened, buckling themselves. “That’s…”
“Major Kaika calls it creepy,” Trip said.
“Does she? That seems callous.”