“Of course we did.” Valeria grinned. “It’s always good for you, though.” She ate her portion and strode over, tugged a cover off to reveal an airfoil in dazzling white. Mache’s breath was stolen away. If there was one thing he appreciated it was aircraft, and this one was beautiful.

  The airfoil he had lost was rough hewn, with edges that could slice a hand. Not this beauty. It was curves and sweetness. Dings were common and ignored on his; this one was pristine. He stepped forward, touching the smooth surface with a low whistle. “Wow,” he said. “Damn, Valeria.”

  “It’s nice?” she guessed.

  “More than nice,” he murmured, tracing the curve of the wing. It was custom cut. Not a moment on the factory floor for this beauty–someone made her with two hands. “Did you make this?”

  Valeria blushed for some reason. “No,” she said. “I understand aerodynamics, but the prototype was made by a man in America. Orville or something.”

  Mache floundered for a way to restore her pride. “Er, you made the engine to fly to the dirigible. That’s amazing too.”

  She studied him. “You think?”

  “Yes,” he said, and meant it.

  “Okay.” She smoothed her hands over her waist, took a breath, and went to look over his shoulder. “What about the controls?”

  Mache tore himself away from admiring the curve of the airfoil. “Here, you’d better get in first. I’ll come in behind you and help you figure things out.”

  She stepped close as he waved her over, instructing her on how to place her foot at the part of the wing closest to the barrel of the pit. She was not the epitome of grace and he apologized when he realized he’d forgotten to specify which foot went first. Finally she got her right foot on the wing so her left could swing over and she could step in. He helped her in and, feeling rather stupid, jumped in behind her.

  “Sorry,” he said, “it’s automatic for me now.”

  “It’s fine.”

  Valeria was already running her hands over dials and buttons, and nearly pulled the break up before Mache reached out and grabbed her hand, heart in his throat. “Whoa, whoa. Pull it and this flying lesson will be awfully short,” he said, trying to swallow the lump.

  “It’s the brake?” she asked. “Can I press the pedals?”

  “Yes,” Mache said, finally relaxing. “In fact, go ahead now. I’d like to see too.”

  She flexed her foot and with incredible smoothness the wings tilted and changed. Mache restrained himself from stroking her shoulders. “Good. Keep playing with it. The difference is a real shock in the air.” He reached out, adjusted her hands on the controls in front of her. “Go ahead and mess with that too. I’ve got to look at this other stuff.” He sat up, leaned forward over her shoulder, and scrutinized the dashboard.

  Valeria was quiet, her feet and hands working, glancing around his shoulders and neck to look at the wings and tail. Her expression, when he glanced, was intense and thoughtful. It was somewhat mesmerizing to watch her scrutinize the movements of the plane’s wings and tail. Her good eye was scrunched, the skin puckered around her eye patch. Her cheeks were flushed and she looked in her element.

  “It’s like a bird’s,” she said.

  Mache blinked. Instead of studying the dash he’d been studying her. Whoops. “Uh, what is? The plane?”

  “Yes. The wings move like a bird’s. The tail too.”

  “Yeah. Albatrosses and seagulls. They’re the best gliders and the airfoils were made to mimic them.”

  “Albatross?” She asked. “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “It’s a huge bird, with a wing span of something like two or three meters. It can go for miles without ever once flapping its wings.”

  “Some of the birds of prey do it too,” she said. “The eagles.”

  “Right. Most flying schools are named for one or the other.” He quirked a lip. “Then again, who would ever go to the Sparrow Flying School?”

  “I would,” she said, grinning. “I like sparrows.” Mache blinked, feeling caught. Valeria giggled. “I get it,” she offered, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I’m joking.”

  “Oh.” Mache said, blinking at her. “Right.” He shifted and pointed, beginning to explain the dials and arrows, going over what positions would do what in the air. Valeria watched carefully.

  “And to take off, we pull the brake?”

  “In theory,” Mache said, standing up to check. “Only if we’re on a track.”

  “I think I’ve got it,” Valeria said, bent over the controls as he leaned out to look at the floor. It wasn’t clear if they were on a track, and he was so dazzled with the plane itself, he hadn’t checked while out. “And if I mess up you can get the controls, right?”

  “I can grab the handles around you,” he murmured, not thinking. “You’ll still have to work the pedals, though.”

  “That should be okay,” she said, and Mache heard a thunk. “Ready?” she asked.

  The ground moved, slowly at first, and Mache frowned. “Um, Valeria…”

  She looked around, still securing her goggle over her eye, and gasped. “What are you doing?” she asked. “Sit down.”

  “You threw the brake?” he cried, “We haven’t even gone over the rules.”

  He realized it didn’t matter as the airfoil nosed over the thousand foot drop before them, protected from the wind by the inset position. “Oh, damn it.”

  He sat, grabbing Valeria’s waist and busying himself with praying as he spat out the instructions he’d meant to say as he guided her hands. “When we enter free fall, pull up, not too much or–”

  “Or we’ll be in a free fall more difficult to exit,” Valeria said, bouncing up and down, “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”

  “Dear God, have mercy. I’m flying with a madwoman,” Mache moaned, and the airfoil dropped off of the rolling track, gravity wreaking its pull and lofting his stomach to his throat. Normally he relished the feeling of falling, the knowledge that death would not take him no matter how it seemed to have the advantage, the freedom of the air.

  With Valeria at the helm it was rather different. She gasped in wonder and he was terrified. She was filled with confidence and he with fear. The air was silent except for her quiet, joyful laugh, her long fingers tightening on the controls as they began to plummet. As the air rose to greet them with bright cold hands, her hair flew in his face and he couldn’t even see the ground rushing at them in the free fall. Blood rose to his head, ears buzzing in panic as Valeria whooped and cried out.

  “Pull up, pull up,” he cried, arms involuntarily tightening. They’d been in free fall for five seconds. How much longer before the pull-up snapped the wings?

  “I will! We’ve got another four seconds before we’re in danger,” she called back, laughing.

  “What? How d–” he cut himself off, “Don’t risk it, damn it,” he shouted.

  Her hands eased back on the stick. He felt the wings shift down, the tail angle slowly, and they eased out of freefall into the fastest flight he’d ever experienced, making his eyes water and his face freeze even with his scarf and hat tied close. He blinked, realizing his goggles were still atop his head, and fumbled them over his eyes, trying to think properly around Valeria’s jingling laugh, the wind in his ears, and the clamoring conviction that he had escaped certain death by the ground for the second time in as many days.

  “That…was…” he panted. “Are you insane?”

  “That was wonderful,” she crowed.

  “Not the word I was going to use,” he muttered under his breath. She didn’t hear him, leaning forward in her seat as she jammed her foot on a pedal, banking the airfoil a hard right and pulling up. They turned in a tight, upward spiral that made Mache nervous though he was sure he’d done it himself the moment he’d received his free flight certificate. Instead of screaming, he gripped Valeria’s waist, one eye wincing in fear.

  The airfoil evened out and there was a strange clunk in the nose. Then there was another. The plane didn’t shift in the air, though he felt several vibrations. “Are you sure you’ve never flown before?” he shouted against the wind.

  “Only behind the CEO,” she shouted in return, and pushed them into another dive and climb cycle. Mache tried not to show the terror pounding in his ears.

  “Does she do this kind of thing?” he asked.

  “Never.”

  “Then why are you?”

  She laughed. “Because it’s fun, silly.”

  Well, that settled that. He was going to die.

  * * * *

  Valeria was a natural once in the air. It shocked Mache, who needed many hours of training to not cringe with every buffeting airstream. The air might have been his favorite place to be, but that didn’t mean he had no respect for it. They looped and lazily circled the dirigible for nearly an hour before Mache finally brought up the nerve to mention landing. “Maybe I should land,” he said.

  “Oh!” Valeria said, still grinning with delighted joy. “I’m sorry. Did you want a turn?”

  “No, no, quite all right,” Mache said. “This is my job, remember?”

  “I’m sure it’s different,” Valeria said. She changed subjects. “What kind of failure made you crash?”

  “The wing was pushing my nose down,” Mache said, and started as she turned without warning to look, whipping hair in his face. “When I tried to bang it back, it broke and I lost a lot of maneuverability. I was trying to make an emergency landing under Sky Post regulations.”

  She scrutinized the wing for a moment and then leaned in to look at him. “It snapped off in your hand?”

  “Aluminum,” he said with a guilty smile. “I think it broke in the cold?”

  “How long had you been flying?”

  “An hour and a half when it malfunctioned, two when I crashed.”

  Valeria was silent as she took them in a gentle loop around the ship. “Okay, I guess we can learn landing later.”

  “Only if you promise not to pull the brake ahead of time,” Mache said, unable to erase the relief in his voice. Valeria looked at him, and though he couldn’t see her eye behind her goggle tinting, he got the feeling she was frowning. He didn’t feel like retracting the words and didn’t offer anything more.

  They changed seats awkwardly, but the airfoil remained steady. Valeria leaned over, resting her chin on his shoulder as he took the controls and tested them to get a feel for the craft. It was no wonder Valeria had done well. It was rock steady in the air. He frowned in contemplation as he dipped the airfoil this way and that. The aircraft moved easily enough, and there was a faint touch of weight that twitched and moved as the air around them shifted. He felt the shift of air on their right side coming off a cloud bank several hundred feet away. The peculiar thunk and shift vibrated through his feet. Mache blinked.

  “It’s an auto adjuster,” he murmured. “Holy Mother of God, this thing’s got an auto adjuster.”

  “What’s that?” Valeria asked in his ear, startling him.

  “It’s why you’re so damn good at flying your first time around.” He laughed. “I was beginning to feel out-classed! There’s a series of steel bearings shifting back and forth to move the controls. It adjusts for wind gusts.”

  “You mean not all airfoils have one?” she asked.

  “Not by a long shot. It sounds simple but it’s really advanced. They have to be hand made and measured. Wow, I can’t believe how easy this makes it. No wonder they talk about it so much.”

  Valeria’s chin came off his shoulder and she fell silent. Mache was immersed in testing the abilities of the auto adjuster and didn’t notice, taking the craft for several spins around the dirigible before she finally said, “I’m a bit cold. Can we land?”

  “Oh, sure, once we come around,” Mache replied, “I was finished anyway. I wonder who made this thing? Fiberglass is one thing, but a correcting system. Amazing.”

  He thought he heard her huff as he touched the airfoil into a spiral up, a dip down. They landed in the hanger with a clatter onto the grating. Mache breathed a sigh of relief. They’d managed to miss the garden. He pulled his goggles up, grinning now that they were landed safely. “How’d you like your first flying lesson?”

  Valeria was already up and hopping out. She didn’t look at him as she tugged her hat and goggle off. “Fine,” she said. “I should start getting lunch together.” She walked out.

  Mache blinked. He felt as if he’d done something quite wrong but wasn’t sure what it was. Shrugging, he hopped out and checked the plane over, humming to himself. Maybe she needed something to warm up.

  * * * *

  For forty-five minutes Mache was too busy examining the plane to notice Valeria’s absence. For the last fifteen minutes he tried to work out what he’d said, and finally decided to track her down. She stood in the kitchen.

  “What’s for lunch?” he asked.

  “Just the usual,” She said, handing him a potato and a salad on a plate. She didn’t look at him.

  Mache shifted, looking side to side. Most women cooled off. He didn’t think Valeria was most women, and condescending to her was ridiculous. She was smarter than he was. He screwed up his courage and asked, “What’s up?”

  “The sky.”

  “No, I mean, what’s the problem? You hurt yourself?”

  She stared hard at her plate. “You’re mad at me, or something.”

  “I am?” he asked.

  “You said I wasn’t a good flier, that it was the auto adjuster, and got starry eyed over it,” she said, still pouting.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, wondering how he was going to soothe her clearly ruffled feathers. “You are a good flier, but without the auto adjuster, it would have been a genius flight even for me. Humans weren’t meant to be in the air–we just like it up here.”

  “So I am a good flier?” she pressed.

  “We’re alive, aren’t we?”

  She glared at him. “That’s not a compliment.”

  He sighed. “Valeria, it’s okay. I’m sorry I annoyed you. I mean, auto adjusters are like…” He rubbed his head, sighing. “I mean, if you found an advanced form of your eye you’d only ever heard of from the CEO, wouldn’t you be excited?”

  She glanced at him again, shifting and finally leaping up to hug him. “I’m sorry, Mache,” she cried. “You’re right, I’m sorry, it’s just you seemed mad and I didn’t want you to leave.”

  Mache blinked–leaving was the last thing on his mind. “Leave?” he asked. “Oh, no, no. Not unless you want me to, of course.”

  “I like having you here,” she said, nuzzling his shoulder and resting her head against him. Mache noticed she hadn’t even brushed her hair yet. “I know I said last night I didn’t care for people, but you’re easy to talk to.”

  “That’s good,” he said. He stroked his fingers through her golden locks as gently as he was able, finally giving into the urge he’d had all day. “I like to be here.” He tapped her single goggle, still atop her head. “It’s certainly not boring.”

  She tugged on his vest. “You’ll stay? Can you? Don’t you have someone to tell you’re alive?”

  “No one who won’t yell at me,” he replied. “Besides, I should be asking you. Won’t someone notice I’m here?”

  Valeria paused, her hands sliding off his waist and looking up at him. “Oh.” she said. “Oh dear.” She frowned and sat down.

  “Other than the obvious, anything wrong?”

  She shook her head. “It’s difficult.” She tapped her hands together. “You see, if the CEO comes up here, she only gives me an hour of warning. We wouldn’t have time to get you to the ground and me back.”

  “And you have to learn to land and make a ground take-off before that could happen anyway,” Mache said. “I can teach you, and with the adjuster it’ll be easier. Landings are tricky, though.”

  She nodded, now not even offended as she took off her goggle, regarding it thoughtfully. “You’d either have to leave now or hide if she came.”

  Mache frowned. “You want me to stay that much?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said without hesitation. “You’re my first friend in fifteen years.” She shrugged. “I’d forgotten how nice it is.”

  Mache tilted his head. “Okay. I can stay.” He shrugged to himself. What waited for him outside? A crappy boss, a decent-paying job. Certainly no girl. “Maybe I should cook. That way you can still work. At least I can be useful, you know?”

  “Would you?” She squeaked and clasped his hands in hers, long fingers wrapping around his wrist and into his palm.

  “Can’t promise anything gourmet,” he said.

  “Oh, thank you,” she said, and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for everything, Mache.”

  “Valeria,” he murmured, and squeezed her hands. “I didn’t do much. You’re welcome.”

  Chapter Two

  Two weeks passed without much to do but Mache never managed to become bored. Needing little sleep, Valeria woke him for breakfast early in the morning. Mache sat and talked to her, often answering questions she stockpiled in the night, until she went to conduct her experiments and build her prototypes. Once, she came and dragged him away from trying to work out how to cook a carrot to show him something, holding his hand in her natural hand and explaining it to him in rapid fire words, bouncing up and down in excitement. He watched her more than he listened.

  Her eye patch was flipped up, her hair streaked with oil and a smudge of some sort of bright red dust on her cheek, her breathing rapid and excited. “You explaining what the auto adjuster was gave me an idea to use a similar system of weights to power joints. It would be a cheap way to get rid of the steam engines I have to attach to the limbs I make for the public now. Look at this prototype!”

  She picked up a tangle of wires in the rough shape of an arm.

  “Why don’t you make your kind of limbs for the public?” he asked. “Like your hand? You mentioned they were expensive but for something like that surely it would be better to lower the price and get more sales?”

  She beamed. “You mean like my hand? It’s a dangerous and long procedure. I didn’t have anything to lose. If you’re going to chop off a hand, you’d need to have a guarantee of the replacement being better, wouldn’t you? Some people will take the risk, but not many.”

 

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