Sky Knights
SKY KNIGHTS
Alex Powell
Dounia and Ira are part of the Nightwitches, an elite squad of night bombers determined to help bring down Axis forces. They are proud and fearless—until tragedy strikes and their plane is shot down behind enemy lines, and their determination may not be enough to get them home safe.
Sky Knights
By Alex Powell
Published by Less Than Three Press LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.
Edited by J. Ang
Cover designed by London Burden
This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.
First Edition March 2015
Copyright © 2015 by Alex Powell
Printed in the United States of America
Digital ISBN 9781620044957
"We're approaching the coordinates."
Dounia hand-signalled back and concentrated on the landscape below them, a forest dotted with snow and ice. Somewhere down there, below the tree line, was 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 up closer around Dounia's shoulders. His claws scraped against her skin, even through her leather bomber jacket.
"Cat's aren't made for flying," Meow 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 and reported back. "In formation. Going in."
Dounia watched the two planes behind her in the mirror spell and waited. Any moment, the two of them 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 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 his claws in 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 fifty meters."
There was no sound of engines, just the wind whistling past––and if Dounia strained her ears, the sound of anticipating snow. Dounia hoped they'd return before the blizzard started. Their formation had been pushing it with the 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 in her ear as Dounia leapt into action, jumping up and out of her seat in the cockpit and edging her way carefully out across the wing of the biplane as Ira mirrored her on the other side. Below her, the tops of the trees flew past in a blur, but Dounia ignored it. She wouldn't fall, and she was fearless. The wind pulled at her, fighting to drag her off her perch on the wing, but Dounia, air veteran extraordinaire, knew how to keep her feet. As soon as Dounia 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, hands steady as she pulled the engine back into action by hand. The propeller roared to life, and she and Ira scrambled back into their seats. Meow shivered against her neck and growled unhappily. Dounia raised her hand and stroked his back, soothing him back into compliance.
Dounia steered the plane back up and around. A few stray bursts of anti-aircraft gun rounds fired off around them, but Dounia escaped them easily. It was a shot in the dark, and Dounia grinned fiercely, the thrill of flight still 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 around, Dounia and Ira would be distracting the enemy so that their comrade 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," she said.
"Why can't you just blast them with a fireball?" Meow whined, scrunched up around her neck.
"I might catch our wooden plane on fire," Dounia replied dryly. "And give away our position."
Just as they fell in line behind their comrade, the first few flakes of snow 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 snowstorm. 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 focused again.
It was almost time, and Dounia was ready. This part was just as difficult as flying low over the German lines and dropping their load. They might not be cutting their engines this time around, but they'd have to court the fire of the anti-aircraft guns. It was just as dangerous and just as exhilarating as their previous run.
"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 sound of their engines drowning out all other noise, until the spatter of machine gun fire punctured the air.
"We're fine," Ira said. "It missed us."
Ira said so to soothe Meow's ruffled feathers, as a growl rumbled up from his throat at the threat.
Luck had failed one of their stalwart comrades. The strafing run by the German planes had damaged them beyond help, and they spiralled down, yawing wildly through the frigid, snow-filled air. Dounia watched them go. The downed plane 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 if there was any movement below.
"Stay on target," Ira repeated. "Our other comrade is still aloft and still needs to drop their 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. They were close enough that Dounia saw the puffs of smoke below as the guns emptied their ire 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 against her cheek.
"Fine," Ira said, but her voice was tight with tension.
Dounia focused her eyes back on her fellow aviator, and her heart leapt in her chest 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 up here, in their cockpits thousands of feet above the 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 it, 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, up above the first layer of clouds, away from the brewing snowstorm. Now that they were safe, Meow crawled off of Dounia's shoulders and scrambled over to Ira to check her injury. Of course, Meow couldn't actually help, but he hated Ira being hurt as much as Dounia did.
Dounia could barely concentrate on landing the plane she was so worried about Ira, but she forced herself to pay attention. Landing in a crosswind while it was snowing out was no easy matter, and the snowfall threatened to turn into a full-on blizzard very soon.
A shockingly cold burst of wetness against her cheek startled Dounia and she looked up, although the shield spell on her cockpit was invisible to her eye. Ira had shielded their cockpits with spells to block the elements from entering, but the spells were failing. Ira usually renewed them when they did, but she was more occupied with tying a tourniquet around her arm.
They would be fine. They were nearly back to their base, and 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 down, 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 were breaking past the shield spell, floating down to hit Dounia's face. Her goggles protected her from getting any in her eyes.
Ira finished tying off the tourniquet and studied the instrument panel in front of her. As the navigator, she was supposed to lead them back to base. Dounia was following the other planes in their formation, but it was better if Ira guided them.
"Adjust our course by two degrees," Ira said. "We're almost there, fifteen point two kilos 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 quite 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 rapidly. "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 only has 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 the plane, 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, and Dounia could make out the snowy runway ahead of them in the dark, the lights of the ground crew glowing like fireflies, beacons in the night.