Flight or Fight, Chapter 6

The rain stopped as swiftly as it started... thirty hours later. After a day and night of rain pounding on their little cocoon, the sudden silence brought Dafi out of sleep with a jolt. The weak light filtering around the edges of the tarp told her she had overslept for her watch. “Dal, you were supposed to wake me at midnight.”

“Nu? Hyu needed de rezt. Not like anyting vaz travelling in dot mess, und our scent treck vaz muddled for everyting bot anodder of de ‘kin after de firzt full day of rain.” Dal shrugged. “Hy got enough schleep de day before vhile hyu vere on vatch, anyvay.”His grin was evident in the low light, and she thought the better of arguing the point with him. What was done was done.

Getting out of the tree was not quite so harrowing for Dafi, as she had other distractions this time. Dal lowered her quickly, and started sending the packs down as she toyed with the idea of a fire, and tea. No, best get back to the trail, as we have lost a day already, she thought to herself. She did have to admit, after stretching out, her leg felt much better. Dal had helped her change the dressing before they left the treetop bivouac, and she could see the rest had done some good. The lost time was worrisome, though.  

~=*=~

Dalibor scowled at the raging rapids the mountain stream had developed with the rainstorm. “No way we can cross that here,” Dafi said, resignedly. “Not without a few waterproof map-cases to protect the documents. Even then, I can swim, but trying to ford here would be suicide.”
   

“Hy can climb, bot schvimming... iz not zo goot for me.” He disliked admitting there was something he had not gotten around to learning, yet. Scanning up and down the river with disgust, he muttered,  “Dis *uzed to be* de zafezt plaze to ford for a day’z march in eidder direction.  Hy vaz hoping to pass de next duchy by on de zouthern border, bot it lookz like ve follow de schtream north.” Dalibor kept his reasons for not wanting to go North to himself. Still, it had been almost a century since he had passed through the duchy, perhaps he could get away without being recognized.

~=*=~

Dafi nodded, turning to the tree-line. “What is the next duchy to the north? I was turned around after the jump.” Was it her imagination, or had Dalibor winced at the thought of crossing the border?

“Ve are headed into de Movila territory. Not vun of de conschpiratorz, bot at de zame time not vun of de Baron’z supporterz.” Dal grimaced again, “My information iz a leettle old on de duchy, bot ve schould reach Lacul Rateu by nightfall.”

Dafi thought a moment before she asked, “I think I might have heard of that one, is that the lake created by a Spark battle a couple hundred years ago?”

Dalibor grunted, “Demfool pet madboy of de eediotz running de duchy getz in a fight vith anodder demfool madboy dot couldn’t bloody aim, und the villagerz paid for it. De hunting lodge vaz a big enough plaze, und de git schtill couldn’t hit it. Bot he did manage to take out part of de ridge to de zouth, und de rock-schlide vaz enough to take vun of de mountainz down to hill schtatuz. Dot much rubble vaz too much to be cleared, zo de river vaz blocked. Dhey only lost de church schteeple und de mill in de attack, bot de valley vaz floodink out.” Then he chuckled. “De madboy ran, und de villagerz made do vith vot vaz left.  Hy tink dhey turned de plaze into an inn.”

Dafi winced inwardly, an inn? The story behind the lake matched the one told by one of her classmates, concerning the favored vacation spot for her family. If it was the same place, Dafi hoped she would be able to cover basic soldier’s accommodations for two there. Perhaps Dalibor could convince the kitchen aunties to let them bunk in the cellar overnight. She knew she was not carrying enough for the normal guest fees. Sybaritic and elegant were words often used for the hunting lodge, and a wide range of game available in the area. At that reminder, she began to watch the underbrush a bit more closely as they continued on. “Staying with people, though...” Dafi murmured quietly, “will we not get them into trouble, will we?”

The sergeant grunted, “Not zo hyu’d tink. De Movilaz believed de madboy’z report dot de village vaz deschtroyed, und pretty moch ignored de area ontil de vord got out about de inn. By dhen, de militia had become game-trackerz und zuch, bot dhey hadn’t forgotten how to fight. Vhen de monks backed them op, de greedy baztardz zettled for levying a gouging ‘entertainment’ tax on dheir profitz.” Dalibor’s growling assessment slid into a chuckle, “Zo dot getz pazzed onto the Fifty vhen dhey schtay, vith everyting clearly written out in de bill.” At Dafi’s surprised giggle, he nodded, “De market vorkz both vayz, und it eventually evened out. Juzt de zame, Hy dun’t tink ve had better let on hyu iz a Dama.”

~=*=~

They reached the top of the centuries-old shifted ridge as the sun just touched the mountains to the west. The forest had taken over the rubble, softening the edges. Dalibor breathed deeply, scent triggering memories of the previous times he had been here. Prior to the battle, the wide valley had been good for limited farming, and the hillsides supported goat herds. Now the valley was under water. The old hunting lodge had been about 600 verst up the trail, and the lake had risen to within a couple dozen sazhen of the lodge. He paused to convert the old measurements to the new ones the Heterodyne Boys had encouraged and the Baron enforced - the town square was likely 500 meters under the water’s surface. Far off in the distance he could just make out the reflection of the sunlight on the rails of the Corbettite line just up the shore from lake, with the rail-bridge crossing the rambunctious mountain river that filled the lake.

The monks had waited to see how stable the lake was before laying out the final route for their railway. The station was new since his list trip through the area, though. While he had been lost in memories, his companion had been scanning the area with the eyes of both a Dama and a soldier. Her quiet comment, “Not much activity about tonight” brought him out of his reverie.

“Ja, Hy tink it iz cloze to de lazt of dheir evening chorez, goot timing for uz.” He sniffed the wind for clues, “Might be getting zupper ready for de schtaff, it schmellz more like traditional cooking dhan dot fanzy new schtuff.”

Dafi nodded, “Think we can convince someone to let us bunk in the stable?”

Dalibor chuckled and clapped her shoulder, “Juzt leave dot to me, Kommender.” Rather than following his nose to the kitchen, he led her to the front doors, calling, “HO! der Haus!” as they mounted the stairs.

A youngster poked their head out of a window to the side of the entry, and waved, “Ho! Welcome Travellers! Imma get the keeper!” and the child shut the window, but not before they heard the shout of, “Get Granfa! We got live’uns!”

Within moments, one of the grand doors opened, with two stocky men warily scanning the area. When the older of the two spotted Dalibor, he laughed, “Ha! Figured it was about time to see you again, Corporal!” Dalibor recognized the facial structures related to the past innkeeper, but counted back years to guess the name of the current one.

“Toma?” At the man’s nod, he laughed, “Ja, been a vhile, lazt time Hy vaz here hyu vere schtill hall-boy. Ve all change, Hy made Zarchent a vhile beck.” Friendly greetings taken care of, he turned to bring Dafi forward. “Kommender und Hy vere looking to find a plaze to bivouac.”

“Ho, no problem, we can put you up for the night!” The innkeeper greeted their request with a grin, beckoning them inside the great hall. “We’re getting ready to close up for winter, but the bath house is open all year round, what with the hot spring.”

“Hot spring?” Dafi asked. Dalibor chuckled inwardly at her hopeful tone. She went on, “If it is no trouble, could we add use of the bath house to our bill?”

“Pfft, your sergeant dinna tell you? Your money’s no good here.” Toma chuckled with a small bow. “Soldiers what protect us in this world and priests that armor us for the next we take care of. Fair exchange, my great-great-grandfa thought when he set up the policy.”

“That... could be a problem for you, could it not?” she asked doubtfully.

The innkeeper chuckled as he showed them to their rooms, “Ah, but we are isolated enough the trouble-makers rarely find us. Besides, we don’t spread it about, ye ken?” he said, scratching the side of his nose.

She nodded solemnly, “You have my pledge that my hands will protect your information as well as your housen.”

Dalibor raised an eyebrow at her phrasing, wondering if it was rooted in a traditional house greeting for her county. Then he was distracted by the arrival of a mob of the old aunties, who had been young brides in his last visit. They clucked and fussed over the room, depositing linens, laying a fire in the fireplace and making a big fuss about how he only visited once a generation. Then Toma ushered the aunties out, mentioning “The bath house is in the same place, and that basket has soap under the towels. You can take your time, we have about another hour before dinner.”

~=*=~

Master Toma had barely shown them the room,  Dafi guessed it was a suite from the door beside the fireplace, when they were overrun by the old women, who scolded and petted the sergeant by turns as they bustled about. Dafi was unable to get a clear count of them because they seemed to be everywhere at once, with armloads of linens and baskets of apples for the table with a vase of late roses appearing on the mantle. Then Master Toma was herding the aunties out, giving them a chance to breathe. Dafi stared at the closed door a few moments before murmuring, “So, your intelligence from this area is a bit stale, is it?”

He chuckled, “Ja, Hy tought it had been longer zinze Hy lazt pazzed t’rough here.” He dropped his packs with a double thump, and began rummaging in his patrol pack. Dafi followed suit, picking out unworn patrol uniform pieces and spare delicates.

She turned at the crinkle of paper, and saw he was removing the documents from his pack and shuffling them out of sight in his bath bundle.  “You think they will go through our packs?” Dafi asked him in a harsh whisper.

He nodded, and murmured back, “Hy know dhey vill, bot only to take our clothez to de laundry. Hy tried hiding my packz de lazt few timez Hy vaz here, de auntiez schtill found dhem.” Then he chuckled, “Eidder my schtuff schtank dot much, or mamaz get Jäger nozez for dirty clothez. Schtill, ve dun’t vant  dhem zeeing zumting dot might put dhem at rizk later.”  

A moment of hesitation, and then Dafi started going through her pack as well. “Flip you for first bath?” She said when she had gotten all of her papers hidden in her change of clothes.

“Nah, hyu schouldn’t schtrezz you leg dot much, hyu can go forzt.” Dalibor laughed, and Dafi giggled to join in on the joke. “Hy vill schtand guard outzide. No vorriez dot anybody vill take notize, dot’z been schtandard for any group Hy’ve been vith here.”

She frowned doubtfully as they left the room, and Dal led the way through the halls. “They do not feel insulted by a watch on the door?” They had been welcomed so warmly, Dafi did not want to find they offended their hosts so soon.

“Pfft, nah - juzt common zenze. De bath houze iz a leettle vay op de hill, vith de laundry, bot schtill far enough avay dot critterz zumtimez get curiouz.” He opened a door to a walled garden, and led her past the raised beds of ornamental flowers, cold frames latched over some of the more tender plants already. He pointed up the mountain-side to the cluster of buildings a couple hundred meters away. “Dhey pipe vater in for zum of de roomz, bot it izn’t az hot. Bezidez, zum pipple like de privacy.” Dafi was glad he was leading, and could not see her blush.

Hiking up in silence, he stopped her at the door, “Leave you bootz out here, no need to track dort und make mud on de inzide of de bath-houze.” Dafi nodded, and wobbled a bit trying to get her boots off by herself. Dal snorted and pushed her gently to the bench by the door, and removed her boots. Handing her the basket, he casually took the sheaf of papers out, putting them under his clean clothes on the bench.

Dafi wished she did not feel so much like a young child being sent off to bathe. “Thank you, I will try to be quick.”

“Na, hyu might vant to zoak de leg a bit, ‘z allright.” Dalibor said as he shooed her into the bath-house.

~=*=~

Soon as Dafi had pulled the door shut, Dal lifted the seat of the bench to look in the bin. As he had remembered, the brushes and boot polish were still kept there. He got to work with the mud-scrapers on Dafi’s boots first. They would likely have to go through mud at least once more before getting to the Castle, but it would not hurt to polish up a bit, at any rate.

He had just settled in to the task when a pair of giggling girls left the inn with their arms full of laundry. Dalibor sighed, waving to them when they sighted him, thinking the aunties likely had waited just out of sight of their door, and raided their packs for their laundry. He hoped they hadn’t gotten the parachute out - that was new gear since his last visit. Come to think about that, the great hall might be big enough to properly repack it, if there was enough light available.

His hands busy with the task of cleaning boots, he kept a watchful eye out for things out of the ordinary. It was early autumn, so it was unlikely that there would be anything out there willing to risk the inn grounds for hunting yet. At least nothing normal. That left any number of escaped things that could be on the loose, the sort of things that the bourgeoisie paid good money to hunt.  

Not to mention the things out there that could be hunting for the two of them and the papers they carried. It had taken them three days to cover forty kilometers, and over 200 more to Tânărăjugul, all in three days if they were to rendezvous with the Baron’s main forces in time. Finished with the mud from both pairs of boots, Dalibor got to work polishing Dafi’s boots. No brilliant ideas were coming to him, and the faint splashing sounds coming from inside the bathhouse were not helping his concentration.

There had not been that many times that he had been at ease while bathing, but he could distantly remember how it felt to handle soft curves made slick with soapy water. Remembering more recently the tracing of scars on Dafi’s calves, and the feel of her skin under his hands, Dalibor just managed to finish polishing her boots when the sounds inside indicated she was out of the bath, and his imagination switched to toweling her off. He had made a half-hearted attempt at polishing his own boots when she opened the door, saying “All yours!”

He managed to catch himself before his instincts could take her up on her unintended “offer”, and ducked into the bath-house himself with a grunt of thanks. Not that he needed the hot springs at this point.

 

Flight or Fight, Chapter 5

Dalibor allowed himself to be lulled into a sort of half-sleep, cradling Dafi, listening to the rain on the tarp. At this point, the only reason to have someone on watch would be to make sure there was no ponding on the roof or the lines had not stretched out. But he had made sure the tarp was properly angled, and there were no pockets forming. The lines he used were some madboy’s idea of spider silk, and would not have stretched if the entire patrol was suspended from one of them.

Besides, Dafi fit so well in his arms... and that thought brought him sharply awake. He just barely managed to keep from tensing up, and waking her as well. Dangerous thoughts, especially when he needed to remember she was his responsibility, not his mate. He would get her to the Baron, they would make their reports, and that would be it. He might see her at the court proceedings, if things got that far, but after that... she was the Dama of her county. There would not be any reason for them to even see each other when this was over, much less share anything else.

No matter how much he might wish it were different.

~=*=~

Dafi dreamed of dangling over the clouds again, but it was only a moment before she was pulled into strong arms. She woke up with tears on her cheeks, and Dal gently hugging her, murmuring, “It’z only a nightmare, schh, hyu’re right here, ve’re all right...”
   
“I-I-I’m... awake, thank you,” she said, shakily. “Sorry, I do not know why I am so...” Dafi sniffled, and Dal put a handkerchief in her hand.

“Hyu’re onder schtress, und better for it to come out now dan out on de trail.” He patted her shoulder, “At leazt hyu’re not haffing a fighting nightmare, not egzactly enough room in here for dot.” A few moments more listening to the rain drumming on the tarp before he said, “Do hyu need to talk about de nightmare?”

    She tucked the handkerchief into her sleeve, “I am.. not sure. I do not know what is making it a nightmare. I am not prone to them, and it is not a repeat of the battle.” Dafi hesitated, then laid her head back on Dal’s shoulder. “This is a little embarrassing, having night terrors of sunlight on puffy clouds.”

    Dal gave a short chuckle, “It’z a leettle schtrange, ja. Of courze, it’z not az bad az de guy in my firzt patrol who vaz afraid of botterfliez und mothz.” When she lifted her head in confusion, he patted her shoulder, “He tought it vazn’t fair how dhey could schneak op on him.”

    “Oh, dear... that would be a problem. Did he ever overcome his fear?”

    “Ho, ja - bot only efter ve had to clean out dot cave of vempire Luna mothz.” He shrugged, “Hy dun’t know how ve vould go about finding floffy cloudz for hyu to keell. Bot if Hy get an idea about it, Hy vill tell hyu.”

    Dafi finally laid her head back on Dal’s shoulder and sighed, “Thank you, I appreciate that.” Though she did not speak any further, sleep eluded her. She had been with Dal less than two full days, and she already felt she could trust him. Part of it was that they were in service to the Baron, in their own ways, but there was more.

    Then there was the point that he had treated her with the respect due a fellow soldier, nearly from the beginning. He had plenty of opportunities to take advantage of the situation, yet he had not. Even now, huddled together in the rain, he was being comforting without being salacious. At first, she had thought it was because he did not find her attractive, that he did not think of her as anything but a soldier. But there were subtle hints that he might have an interest in her.

One not-so-subtle hint was occasionally nudging her hip. That did not mean anything, true - he could be thinking of another. For all she knew, he could be married, and missing his wife. It still seemed early in their association to ask such personal questions, but this was an odd situation. The rain showed no intention of abating, and they were stuck here until it let up enough for them to descend. Though it was a delicate question to pose in their current position, she still felt the need to ask it. In a quiet voice, she asked, “Dal? Are you married?”

“Pfft, who vould haff me? Nah, Hy’m not married, Hy’m not a keptain.” He chuckled at the old joke with her. “Vhy, did hyu vant to introduce you boyfriend to my vife vhen dis iz done?”

Dafi chuckled ruefully, “No one wants to court me. They want...” she sighed, losing the brief flash of humor, “The ones that have showed an interest were looking for an alliance. I could be a boot-faced sow for all they cared. They never tried to meet me, much less talk with me, just sent inquiries to Father.” She frowned to herself, wondering if the Baron would be using her as a marriage pawn, now that Father was gone. She hoped that if it was necessary, it would not be horrid. “I understand the need for alliances, but would it have hurt to at least try to get to know the woman behind the title?” she mumbled into the darkness.

She would do her duty to the Peace, as she was taught. Papa had instilled those values in her well. Though he admitted he had not met her mother before they had been presented to each other at the altar, he did come to love her. That may be why he had not remarried after the accident. Or perhaps he thought he did not have time for more family. He worked hard to carve out and defend the hour or two after supper to spend with her in the evenings. At first it was story-time before she went to bed, but in later years, it had developed into his debriefing of what had happened in the day, the things yet to be done, and asking how her day had gone. She would miss the closeness of those evenings....

After her time at the academy, she no longer held fast to the romantic notions that the traveling players spouted in their shows. Many of her fellow students were resigned to their alliances, some of them begun when the prospective partners were still in the nursery. Some were putting a good face on it, studying the finer points of their prospective mate’s holdings if they could not find any shared interests. 

While in her last year, one case caused a bit of an uproar. After a year of negotiation, one of the Alpine border counties announced a generations-long feud was to be resolved with a wedding, even though the bride and groom both had established companions. The elders had taken it into consideration, and had even arranged to have the couple’s respective consorts join their court, making for an interesting ceremony.

There were other tales, of those who gave up their titles for love. Those were usually tragedies, which is why the players did not present them often. However, the history books gave the dry details of the various ways things went wrong for the people who owed fealty to the ones that left their posts. Truth be told, there were some happy endings, but they were the extremely rare exceptions to the rule.

The playwrights also did not seem to understand that with the title came heavy responsibilities. She was taught that abandoning your post, when there was no-one suitable to take it up in your absence,  was cruel to the people you had sworn to protect. It might not be so for others - for all she knew, the Fifty might have a reversed view of things. However, Dafi knew she could not ethically leave her post. There were too many families that relied on her family to keep them safe. She finally drifted off to sleep, with her oath at her confirmation as Dama and her father’s heir replaying in her memory.

~=*=~

Dalibor waited for Dafi to continue her questions, but it seemed she slid into an fitful doze. So, she knew the problems she faced. With her father gone, there would be those who would insist she be married immediately-if-not-sooner, either because they did not trust a woman to know how to run a fortress, or because there needed to be an heir. The first worry was absurd to anyone who knew her record, Dalibor thought, but he also knew how few people actually got to know their rulers, or their neighbors. The second problem was a real issue, especially on the borders.

Dafi had not mentioned her father remarrying after her mother’s death, nor had she mentioned any siblings. Early days yet, but being the Dama implied the eldest, if not the only. The title alone meant she was important enough that his role as bodyguard was of primary concern. Considering the plan detailed in the documents they carried, there was a good chance the conspirators would want Dafi married or buried, preferably buried. So, since his assignment to her would be until the Baron released him to other duty, it looked like he might have to steer them clear of churches as well as ambushes.

She was young - he guessed Dafi to be just entering her third decade, but still so aware of what was expected of her. When had she found out she might have to spend her life bound to a stranger? She seemed resigned to it, now. That was one bit of luggage he was happy to drop, when his family abandoned him to the Jägercorps. There had not been any boot-faced sows in the pack of young ladies presented to his elder brothers, but none of them had displayed an inclination beyond fashion and gossip. The ones that had been rejected by his older brothers were beginning to hunt him, when the Heterodyne had attacked.

He had been a different sort of person then as well. His focus had been on being his brother’s military hand, and had breathed a sigh of relief when his eldest brother had wed. Dalibor had no interest in ruling, but had a keen interest in in protecting the family. That was why he was in the forefront of the commanding officers. It had not mattered, all of the commanding officers had been captured, as the Heterodyne had needed new stock for the experiments. He had no idea why of all his brothers, he was the one to survive the Jägerbrau. The Heterodyne had found it “interesting”. But no answers were forthcoming then, or after.

His interest in philosophy had not fully emerged until his second century, with the raid on Odessa and the library there being brought back. What did not further the current Heterodyne’s studies was left out for anyone to pick up. By then there were a number of the Jägerkin that could read, though they generally did not do so in public. The Jägermonsters’ secret library was overseen by an old monk that had been given the Jägerbrau, at the perverse whim of the Heterodyne. The monk, who had taken a vow of silence before his capture, and maintained it after his transformation, had never trained to be a soldier. However, he could be counted on to further the studies of anyone who braved the cellars of the castle. Safe to say Dalibor was a much different man, in many ways, than the one who hid in the salle from the twittery ladies.

Dalibor chuckled inwardly, thinking that if Dafi had been among the girls in the marriage market at the time, he would have been more put out about the approach of the armies, rather than glad for an excuse to escape the salons. Of course, the way his uncle had treated the one sister-in-law he had, after his brother’s deaths were reported, was horrendous. Would Dafi have allowed the old goat to shift her off to a nunnery, even if she was pregnant? He rather thought not.

Of course, one of the old auntie’s saws of “might-have-beens won’t fill the bean-pot” filtered past his memories. Dalibor, for all his philosophical bent, was practical enough to stay grounded in the present. Even so, he lightly stroked Dafi’s hair and wistfully imagined a few servings of might-have-beens.

Flight or Fight, Chapter 4

Even with her vigilance, Sgt Dalibor still managed to surprise Dafi, suddenly appearing out of the underbrush in the center of her field of vision. He did not seem to disturb the shrubs as he passed, something she noted with a flash of envy. "Ho! Hy got lucky und found anodder pair of Moztly Rebbitz!" Dal had field-dressed them as soon as he had caught them, apparently. It was a good move to leave the offal away from camp, if he had, in fact, left any. While the Sergent set the coneys to roast over the fire, she worked her boot off and carefully peeled her sock back. There was a bit of blood on the sock, but it had dried already. He did not offer to help with the dressing, and Dafi was not sure if she was relieved or disappointed.

He waited until she had gotten her boot back on before saying, "Hy di'nt find tree-spikes in hyur gear. Hy don' got none eidder. But Hy di'nt find any cavez vhile hunting. Schtill, treetop vould be safezt."

Dafi kept her face calm as she packed away the med-kit. "Tactically, I agree." She waited a few moments more before she sighed, "I do not like it, but with our limited resources, I will just have to deal with it."

The sergeant nodded and took a few moments to gather their packs, strapping them on. "Hyu watch out here while Hy get set up. Hyu schtill remember de school signalz?" Dafi chuckled, thinking she was the one to use them more recently. He grinned and said, "Hyu have trouble, let me know, Hy back hyu op." He took the ropes, flinging one end of the loop around the trunk of a nearby tree, "Hy might take a vhile to get to de branchez, but Hy ken haul hyu op after ve iz done mit the fire and it'z out, right?"

At her nod, he was walking up the huge trunk, hitching the ropes up as he ascended. He was soon hidden among the branches several dozen meters up, and Dafi kept her eyes on the surrounding landscape. Though sunset was not far off, she did not feed the fire any further, allowing it to die down as she pulled the coals together, turning the meat until it was almost done. Keeping an eye out on the gathering gloom, she wrapped the rabbit in the greens she had gathered by the stream, then in a trail kerchief, putting them in the now-empty water bucket with the cooling kettles of tea. She then spread the coals of the fire on the rock outcropping, kicking the sandy dirt about trying to disguise how recently a fire had been here, and of what type.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon when she heard the trill that had meant "ready" when she was at school, and the rope descended to her level. Dali had tied a rescue loop in the end, and Dafi was tired enough to accept it without being offended.

~=*=~

In spite of all the internal arguing, Dalibor had managed to secure their gear in the mid-range branches and arrange their bivouac. "Nest" the animal at the base of his brain called it. He told the animal to shut up. He would have gone higher, himself. However, Dafi had been uneasy with the minor turbulence in the airship. Even with the gentle night breezes his weather skills told him they would have, the movement of the branches up there would be more than he guessed Dafi could manage.

She needed to rest, and honestly, so did he. He had dozed a bit the night before, but it was that light sleep that let him hear everything within a hundred meters. Useful when in uncertain territory, but more than a few nights of that a week was not wise. Especially when they had to cover as much ground as possible in that week. Especially when his patrol consisted of a crazy woman who tranced out so she would not feel pain and slow them down.

Especially when that doze let him hear her murmurs when she was dreaming. He did not think she had woken up from the nightmare, when he had touched her shoulder. It seemed to break the nightmare's hold on her, though. Going back to the mouth of the cave was harder with his instincts trying to pull him back to curl up with her. Actually, his instinct was trying for a lot more than that, but his sense of duty kept smacking the instinct down with the rules and regulations.

He was old enough to know better, but it had been a while since he had tired of tumbling with the barmaids. Sure, it was all in fun and commerce, but they often couldn't read, and had a limited grasp of current events, much less political theory. Dafi's quick grasp of the situation had excited him more than the sighs she gave in her sleep or the graceful curve of her calves. He traced them in his memory, gilded in firelight - one with an old scar from a sawtooth cat, the other with the new bullet graze. She was a soldier, and as far as he had seen in their limited contact, a good one. If she had been just a soldier, he would have begun courting her already, but she wasn't.

Though he did not call her by her title, he had not forgotten it. For that matter, he knew that tone of voice she had used when she had given her Proper Name, and remembered an echo of that tone spoken in centuries past. He had left his own heavy load of luggage behind when he had been captured by the Heterodyne and given the Jägerbrau. The Heterodyne had not been hunting ransom, but fresh meat. Though it had not kept him from being captured, the training he had received at Mustafa-Svilin had served him well in keeping him alive and away from promotions. His family had given him up for dead, and when they found out he was not... well. His uncle had been the ranking survivor, and preferred to keep it that way. Dalibor had not been back since.

Through this storm of emotions and memories, he managed to string up his shelter-half as part hammock and part shelter, in case he had failed in his weather-reading. After a moment's hesitation, he mirrored the arrangement with Dafi's gear close alongside his, nearer the trunk for her peace of mind. He adjusted packs and tension lines for the better part of an hour, before he realized he was delaying dangerously long, noting that Dafi had already cleared the camp below and was policing the area for further signs of their passage.

He pulled her up to the level of the bivouac, and she carefully hung the camp bucket from a broken branch. "Rabbit in the kerchiefs, tea in the kettles and water in the cook-pots," she said tersely. He could tell from her body language that Dafi wasn't angry, she was scared stiff. He was glad he had placed her hammock against the trunk of the tree, and helped her into it. He climbed into his hammock, and being more comfortable in their surroundings, served dinner. Not much on greens himself, he left over half of his share in her dinner bundle, as he settled in with his share of the meat. "Nize vork on deze, de greenz aren't too bad thiz vay."

Dafi seemed to be concentrating on Not Looking Down, and huddled in her hammock. "I-it is better with spinach, but the watercress was a bit... bit overgrown. The steaming helps with tougher greens." She consumed her dinner neatly, mechanically, and drank the bitter tea straight from her kettle. When she had finished, tidying her kit together she said, "I think I might take first watch tonight." It was not a request, but it was also not an officer giving an order. Then she was at a loss for what to do with the bones from supper.

Dalibor simply took the bones and flung them out into the darkness. "Tenkz, Hy could uze zome schleep tonight." He tied his kettle of tea to a handy branch for later. "Vake me at midnight und Hy vill take ofer." He settled into his hammock with the intention of sleeping no more than four hours. Not that he believed she would fall asleep at her post, but instead wanted to make sure she would sleep at least part of the night.

~=*=~

Three hours later, Dafi was debating if she should wake the sergeant up. She had been trying to convince herself that she was just nervous, and the wind was not picking up across the ridge to their west. "Just your imagination, silly girl," she muttered to herself.

"Mrr?" Sgt. Dalibor came awake, to her chagrin. Dafi murmured to him, "Still an hour yet, g-go back to sleep."

From the sounds, Dafi guessed the sergeant was shifting about in his hammock. The clouds had rolled in an hour earlier, cutting off the light of the waning moon. "No, zumting'z wrong. Vot iz vorrying yhu?"

"I was listening to the wind. It is starting to sound like a big blow is headed our way, and I...." Dafi paused, embarrassed by the admission, but you did not lie about your observations when on patrol, "...I was trying to decide if I was getting colder, or just scared."

"Hyu're right, de vind haz shifted." With a grunt, he got out of his hammock and balanced easily on the lower branches. When he stood, he casually wrapped an arm around her shoulder and breathed deeply. After a few moments, he said, "Ve rilly don't haff time to get to ground und shelter in. No goot placez for it dot Hy saw on de hunt, eidder. Vill hyu trust me on keeping uz zafe op here?"

Dafi's mouth went dry, but she nodded. "Yes, what do you need me to do?" His answer was to pick her up and settle her in his hammock with one swift movement.

"Truzt me, und keep an ear out for de vind. De rezt Hy can manage." Dafi got the sense of swift movement, and her bedroll landed around her shoulders. "Hy can keep uz dry und secure, but it vill be close qvarterz."

She stayed still and quiet, occasionally holding packs for him, and noting the rising whine as the wind hit the ridge. "Dal? I think we have maybe five minutes..."

"Ja, tenkz. Almozt ready for de lazt part." He lifted her out of the hammock, setting her on a sturdy branch, "Got you balanze for a leettle bit? Juzt a few more minutez." More sounds of movement, and finally, "Ready for hyu, Dafi." He pulled her into his arms and climbed into the cocoon he had constructed from their tarps. There was no way to have a line of sight, and their packs crowded in at the sides, but this construction did not sway in the wind as the separate hammocks had.

She waited for him to put her down, and then realized there was no other spot for her in the cocoon; she would need to spend the night curled up with him. The electric shiver up her spine at that idea had nothing to do with her fear of heights. "You did say close quarters. Is this... are you going to be all right?"

Dal chuckled, "At leazt now Hy will know hyu vill not go schleepvalking. Anodder bright schpot to dis iz even if ve are schtuck here ontil de schtorm passez, it iz onlikely anyvun elze vill be out tonight." He shifted a little, snugging her into his shoulder. Then the heavens opened up, pounding their tree-sling with a wall of water. "Schleep, Dafi. Hyu need to rezt." Dal tucked the blankets around them, seemingly unconcerned with her weight or proximity.

Dafi wondered if she should be concerned, but the rain, along with the warmth and solidity holding her, lulled her to sleep.

Flight or Fight, Chapter 3

Dalibor had a brief moment of panic when the girl started to cry, but what was more worrisome was the way she clamped down on herself almost immediately. "You are right - we will make them pay. Until then, I do not have the luxury of grief." Watching her gather herself, he wondered when her control was forged, and if it was tempered.

"Hyu need rest, Dafi. Dis plaze iz secure, und hennyvun coming in vould make enough racket to vake a rock. Since Hy em a light schleeper, Hy vill take de vatch tonight." He buried the instincts of what to do with a half-dressed handful, and helped her put the documents away. With some regret, he tucked her into the parachute as if she was a small child. "Tomorrow iz anodder chance to bring dem down."

Cat-footed, he moved towards the mouth of the cave. With the double curve of the entrance and the heavy brush nearby, he was not worried about the fire being seen, but he still wanted to check the area. He sat in the niche of the opening, and scanned the ravine, letting his instinctive mind take the evaluation. His conscious mind was not on the terrain, but the girl. He had seen that sort of control in some of the human officers assigned to his squad, and it worried him. They usually either broke under the pressure, or burned out - and in either case, it could mean the difference in winning or losing a battle. Usually, the Jägerkin won, but it often meant the officer did not survive.

Not a pleasant thought - he knew she needed to survive long enough to make a report to the Baron, and possibly long enough to testify in court. Having her burn out in a berserker raid would be as bad as getting herself killed. "De tings Hy do for de Empire," he murmured quietly in the darkness.

~=*=~

Dafi woke in near darkness, with full awareness. The fire of the night before was coals, almost out entirely. Her hand closed around the grip of her hunting knife as she heard a footfall against the rock. She was forestalled on drawing by the dry chuckle of the Sergeant, "Hyu iz avake, goot." He carefully set the oilcoth bucket where it would not overturn, and used his hunting knife to pull her small trail-cookery pot and kettle from the fire. "De journey-porridge should be ready, und de tea. Bit ov a luxury dis morning, because ve did haff de fire, und hyu need de extra to replace you blood lozz. De bramble berriez haff not been entirely picked ofer, but neidder vere they completely gone."

She nodded as she spooned up the porridge on her knife blade, "Good - so no predators to hunt out the berry-eaters completely, but also likely no villages in a half-day's hike." She made a slight face at the strength of the "tea", which was made from the tablets in the ration packs. Still, when she saw the sergeant pull his kettle from the dying ashes, she drank it all, knowing she would need the additives the tablets contained. She hoped the water in the bucket was potable, to wash down the last of the horrendously strong stuff. "Sergent Dalibor, where have we landed, and do we dare take the roads when we find them?"

"Ve are 'bout t'irty klicks from de main trade road, five hundred from outpost vere you boarded de courier, und about half dot avay from vhere ve can safely meet op vit de Baron'z Kestle." He refilled his kettle from the bucket and drank before continuing. "Ve are cloze enough to de ambusch zone dot ve should schtay out of zight az moch az possible. Me, running alone, could mek it in a few dayz, bot even if hyu vere not injured, Hy haff yet to zee anyvun not of de 'kin to keep op vit vun of uz. Horzebeck, ja, bot getting a horze out here vould mean trading, or schtealing."

Dafi followed his example with the dose of water from the bucket. It was clear and cold, not overtly tainted. "Trading would leave a trace for them to follow, and stealing would make life difficult for the one who lost the horse. Not so many out here that any are 'extras' by a long shot." She noted he relaxed when she said that, and continued, "Can we pack the parachute properly, even after using it for bedclothes? I would hope we do not have to abandon it."

The sergeant shrugged, "Hy vould not let somevun else jump vit it until Hy could repack it proper, but ve can repack it for travel, it haz been uzeful. No need in giffing de traitorz confirmation dot ve vere de vunz to kemp here lazt night." He pulled his first-aid kit out of his pack and lit a small candle-lantern, "First, Hy have to check hyur bandagez for travel." In the light of the lantern, she saw that she had not dislodged the bandages. When she tried to remove them to change the dressing, he lightly swatted her hand away and gave her the lantern to hold. "Hy gotz it, de beck of de leg is hardt to treat by hyuself."

She distracted herself from the feel of warm, gentle hands on her skin by inspecting the wound. "Not an angry red, and well-clotted - you do good work, Sergeant."

He tossed the old bandages on the dying coals, causing them to flare before consuming the gauzes. "Goot ting hyu is ha mountain gorl, hyu heal fast." He spread the pungent unguent on her wound, causing her shiver at the sensation. He looked up, "Dot hurt?" When she shook her head, he bandaged her leg, and then gently eased her sock over the bandage. "Dot schould be all right vit de bootz. Hyu get de rezt of de vay dressed, ve should schtart moofing soon."

~=*=~

Dalibor busied himself with repacking their gear while Dafi dressed. He thought to himself as he cleared the area of evidence of their presence, this is a really bad idea, without focusing on why. His conscience kept quoting the rulebook to him, and in the past that had kept him from too much trouble, but there was a subconscious animal in his brain, reminding him of the feel of her skin under his hands, though he currently held a rough canvas rucksack.

When Dafi moved from the parachute to put on her boots, he packed it as best he could without the benefit of space to straighten the lines. It would have to be a pretty damned desperate jump for him to use the 'chute in this state, but at least it would not be damaged further. He surreptitiously watched her packing up and removing traces of their presence, telling himself he was just evaluating her movements for signs of strain, but the animal knew better.

Still, he pummeled the animal with the trip calculations. He knew he would have to slow his usual pace down to hers, and they had to stay out of sight while travelling. In this terrain, if she were one of the human troopers he had been been with in the mixed patrols, he estimated they could make 25 kilometers a day. However, with her injuries, they might be lucky to make half that. Yes, she could walk without limping right now, but he had seen muscle fibre at the base of the graze track. He was going to have to stroll when his training told him to run.

~=*=~

Dafi dressed carefully, knowing there would be a long hard trek ahead of them. She would be slowing him down, there was no help for it, but she could at least make sure she was the least hindrance possible. There was one way, something she would not have dared alone, but as part of a tracking patrol, it was possible. When she had finished dressing, she reached for her pack at the same time the sergeant did. "Excuse me?" she exclaimed as he began pulling out her things.

"Ve need to make schure hyu do not schtrain youzelf," he said, setting aside the basic survival gear, first aid kit and her hygiene case. "Hy vill carry de heavy gear, bot in caze ve are zeparated, hyu haff de basicz on hyu."

Dafi thought a moment, and pulled the document tube out of her blouse, "We need to hide at least part of these in an unexpected place or three, let me have a few pairs of socks."

He nodded shortly, "Hy vill giff hyu some of de documentz Hy haff - if eidder of uz iz caught, dhey vill get some of de obviouz placez bot not all of dem." He redistributed his pack and parachute bag to accommodate her gear.

While his back was turned, Dafi rolled three of the key letters in with the flannels in her hygiene case. She hoped the trek would not take longer than her cycle. She repacked her gear with one of his memos in her spare socks, and tucked a few more in odd nooks and crannies in her reduced pack. She kept a few documents in the tube, and noted that the sergeant was doing much the same. When he had tucked the document folio in the waistband at the back of his trousers and tucked his uniform shirt, it was rather obvious, but with his pack over all, she could not tell it was there. She exhaled deeply and tucked the document tube into her riding corset. A sweeping glance over the cave indicated someone had stayed here last night, but unless they had tracking dogs, one could not tell who.

~=*=~

"Dafi... time to schtop." Dalibor had to physically stop her shambling walk. This is not good at all, he thought. She's using the long patrol trance to keep going when she should have asked to rest. He frowned with an irritated scowl as she came out of her trance. "Hyu schould not do dot before hyu heal op!"

She wobbled a bit, and asked, "H-how... how far?"

"Tventy klickz, about. Ve schtop now, Hy can schmell blood."

"That is pitiful, and there is still another hour of daylight. We got a late start because of me. Let's go," then she stumbled.

"Ho, dot'z enough for today," he said as he steadied her. Dalibor scanned the area, and muttered, "Notting zo comfy az lazt night nearby. Hope hyu like treez."

Dafi scanned the trees in the area, and paled. "I am not sure I could climb that high."

"Not yet, bot before nightfall." He pointed to a rocky area. "Ve can make a schmall fire for de tea, und get hyu bandaged op before ve zettle in. Hyu can handle de fire vhile Hy hunt, ja?" He jogged over to the outcropping, dropped the pack, then loped off into the woods.

Running helped a little, and dropping into hunt mode did as well, but there was still the annoying animal instinct that nagged him about what he should have done last night. Then something scuttling in the underbrush caught his attention and his instincts gave over into the hunt.

~=*=~

It was a silly fear, Dafi told herself. Not that it helped much, as she busied herself with filling the canvas bucket at the stream down hill and gathering firewood. As long as she had the solid rock beneath her, she could handle heights. Airships and trees could fall, but rocks she trusted. Not in the least bit logical, as many rockfalls as she and her patrol had dealt with, but fear was rarely logical.

The parachute drop had opened a whole new box of memories. Some had coloured her dreams the night before - at least she thought they were dreams. A strong hand holding her wrist, while her feet dangled over clouds. She been a child in the dream, and had not been in uniform, so she must have been younger than eight years old. Rubbing her wrist absently at the memory, she scanned the woods again.

She was loathe to take off her boots and start re-bandaging her leg until Sergeant Dalibor came back. She could handle herself alone in the woods, but injured prey was fair game. She did not want to give any further indication of weakness without backup. She sat by the tiny fire, with their kettles heating water, and sharpened her knife. The illusion of calm, while watching the gloom creep down the valley wall, she felt better with a weapon in hand.

Flight or Fight, Chapter 2

Trandafira became aware in stages, feeling the blankets around her, hearing the soft pop of a log in the fireplace, and the rustling of papers as Papa read in his favourite chair... she froze, remembering how she had left the fortress, and strained her senses.

The blankets had an odd silky feeling to them, and she surmised she might be wrapped in the parachute. Her boots were off, and her calf was sore but not painful enough to wake her. The scents about her were of the fire, fresh-cut unburnt evergreen boughs, and roasting meat. Her stomach rumbled, apparently loud enough to attract attention, from the chuckle that answered it.

She opened her eyes to see a rock ceiling, illuminated by firelight. Turning her head to find the Jägermonster watching, her heart leapt into her mouth as she noted what was in his hands. "NO!" she struggled to reach for him, and retrieve the documents. Tangled as she was in the parachute, he had time to carefully re-roll the documents and put them back in the tube and place it on the ground between them.

Then he put another document folio beside it. "Hyu need more information, but firzt hyu need to eat, and hyu dun vant to get rabbit all over de paperz. Vhen did hyu last eat, by de vay?"

The down-to-earth question, with the tone in the manner of one of the old aunties, made her stop and think. "I - ah, wait... I had tea and a journey bar when I broke camp."

"Und dot vaz?"

"Almost an hour after daybreak, I think... the cloud cover had made me oversleep."

"Zo, it vaz sunset ven Hy bring de firevood in, at least thorteen hourz, dot'z not goot. Here, hyu eat, und den ve take care of ketching each odder op, yaz?"

Trandafira shakily accepted the roasted leg of rabbit he had caught and hoped the Jägermonster had some idea of what was safe for unaltered humans to eat in the area. The old stories about the Jägermonsters said they were able to eat anything, and from what she had seen when the random patrols of them had come through the fortress, she could believe those tales. What with the Sparks mucking about with the local wildlife, one never could tell if cooking what you hunted would make it safe to eat or make it poisonous, but it smelled wonderful. While she ate, he filled her in on what had happened since the jump.

"Hyu had a grazing vound on you leg, und Hy had de medic'z kit in my pack. Hy tink hyu iz lucky, no bone hitz, no deep muscle demage; hyu might be able to valk on it in de morning." He passed her some greens that looked like watercress, and a canteen, "Hyu being tired und hungry means Hy don't haff to vorry about a head injury on hyu, vot mit huy pessink out. But Hy cleaned a good bit of blood out of hyur boot, zo eat. Hy alzo had to vash de blood out of hyur trouzer leg, so ve don't attract predatorz on de trail tomorrow."

Her mouth went dry as she recognised the feel of the parachute fabric on her legs, as opposed to the heavy twill of her hunting togs, but the Jäger continued on. His next statement made any embarrassment of being seen in her delicates irrelevant, in light of their situation, "Ve iz going to haff to cross some vild pocketz of de Vastelands to get to de nearest air-station held by de Baron’s troops. Hyur riding helm haz hunt-master ribbons on't. 'Zat for true, or vaz hyu given it for being Dama?"

The flare of anger she felt at the last question burned off the cold fear of crossing the Wastelands on foot. "I *AM* the hunt-master and lead rider for Fortress Adreev, and have been for five years!" she replied with some heat. Earning that had been grueling, and in no small part because her father had made sure she was trained properly. "I have been certified in trail safety and had three accredited monster kills in one season at the academy in Mustafa-Svilin." True, they were all group-kills, as were all student hunts, but she had been the hunting party leader for all of them. She glared at him, daring him to refute her assertion. Her aura of righteous indignation was somewhat disconcerted by his smile.

~=*=~

Dalibor grinned, glad that his guess had been right about her. When he had checked her wound, he had seen the scars from previous hunts, faded, but they were still there. Her gear was well-worn but also well cared-for, and the equipment she carried was that of a seasoned campaigner. If she was not a soldier herself, she was trained by a good one. She had a nice glare, good for staring down an opponent. And she smelled nice - not the way the one they were looking for would smell, but her scent was intriguing, just the same. "Hy'm glad, that meanz hyu can take a vatch tomorrow night. Hyu eat now, und rest. Vot hyur squad call hyu?"

She looked at him doubtfully over the canteen, "I have not hunted in a squad for a while."

Hoo, she is a solitary trail walker? This gets better and better, he thought to himself. She could still be blowing smoke, but to have the guts to say that, when she knew they were out in the wild, meant she was either that good, or that insane. Either way, what bliss! "Vot hyu name at home, then?"

She grimaced, and straightened up as she responded in a tone of rote, "I am Dama Trandafira Minka Evacska, daughter of Landsknect Arturus Radulf Hynter, Defender of Fortress Adreev in trust for Klaus, Baron Wulfenbach, in memory of the Brothers Heterodyne." Her posture triggered a far-distant memory for him, one that he squelched to regain his mask as “just another dumb soldier”.

He blinked at her twice, slowly, as the fire crackled quietly. "Hy iz juzt Sergeant Dalibor. Dot name hyu got iz a heavy vun to carry around vit hyu, iz too moch luggage - und too moch to schout in a fight. Hy vill call hyu Dafi."

~=*=~

She finished the rabbit while thinking. Her hunger abated, she finally said, after she finished the greens, "No one has shortened my name before." At the sergeant's surprised look, she shrugged, "I have lived my whole life in a military fortification , and the fortress has always been run with rigidly formal organization." She stared into the fire a few moments more, and murmured, "I... think I like having a nickname." Stopping to lick her fingers, she mused, "Papa has... had stood on formality outside the family suite, because it was the way a fortification should be run, but I think it was partially to make sure no one got familiar with his daughter."

"Hyu Papa soundz like he vaz a tough commander - goot for soldierz, but maybe not so goot for femily?"

Dafi (odd as it was, she felt comfortable calling herself that) shrugged, "He could have shipped me off to the village after Mother died, but he said he did not want me to be that far away. The nearest village was a full-day's travel by cart, too far away for a young child to travel regularly, even with that area reclaimed from the monsters of the Long War. Papa was duty-bound, and he felt he could not leave his post for visits." She sighed, "It was hard for him to send me to the Academy, but I needed the certification according to the regulations."

The sergent's eyebrows shot up. "That vas hyur firzt time avay from home? Mustafa-Svilin vaz a tough schkool, bot a goot von, learnt lots dhere. They zend hyu by hyurself?"

Dafi winced at the memory, "I almost wish they had, but I got sent with a squad. Papa and the chaplain tutored me for the entrance exams, along with the half-dozen officer's children in house at the time. It was supposed to give me someone from home to talk to, but they did the formal confirmation as Dama and Papa's heir just before we left. So I got set up as the ranking cadet from my region when we got there" At 14, she had already felt the gulf of social hierarchy putting a wedge between her and her playfellows. The only time it was not as sharply felt was in the hunting pack, but even then there was the knowledge that they were supposed to protect her over themselves. Just as it would be her duty to protect them when she took control of the fortress. Something that had been an onerous certainty for her at that time was now a nebulous duty she hoped she would be able to take up again.

Would the Baron follow Papa’s wishes and install her as the ranking officer there? Papa had not had any second thoughts about that. He had said that his documents of succession had been filed with the Baron after her return home. He had also made sure the soldiers there knew she was not a straw leader, having her work her way through all of the crews over the years since her return from the academy. It was because of the help of her classmates that she had obtained the very incriminating documents, and had been able to get away on one of the ridge-running mounts, a horse with the sure-footed gait of a mountain goat and the stamina of a mine pony. Again, her squad from those days had acted in her protection, over their own. A dark mood threatened as she stared into the fire, when she suddenly remembered his phrasing. "Were you at the academy?"

He puffed up his chest, "Yaz! Clezz of 1557! Hy vaz verrrra goot before de 'brau, but now Hy em fenteztik!"

His preening surprised a giggle out of her. Then she turned thoughtful, and asked, "How much of the tactics classes did they give then, or do you remember?"

"Pfui, all that iz uzeful now from then vaz de cheneral t'eery und de lecturez on supply tactikz. Hy read op now, got to keep current." He handed her a rag to clean her hands, and shifted closer with the document folio from before. "Here, hyu read this, und say vat hyu see, ja?"

~=*=~

The girl took the folio from him, and read it through once. Then she started sorting the papers into piles in her lap, being careful to not get them on the floor of the cave. He noted, by the way she was organizing the information, she was seeing the same pattern he was. She was focused on the task to the point she was not watching where the parachute was covering (or not), and he leaned back to get a better view.

A difficult decision, watch her organize and assess the collected intelligence reports, or watch the flex of her back and the curve of her hip? She was fit, but it did not make her curves any less. As she spread out the parachute to make more "desk" area, he shifted with her to make more room. He thought he got caught ogling when she sat up suddenly. When she fumbled for the document tube, he turned his attention to her analysis. "Hy did this in my head, but I did not get a goot review of hyur information."

"It fills in the holes, see?" She unrolled the sheaf of papers, and pointed out, "The conspiracy ring is evident in what you have, but I have Travers, Evanier, and Chauncey's statements that make them responsible." She laid out the inner ring of the letters from her document case, in the areas that linked the reports from the airman. “Their letters also indicate they have many pawns in the game, but most of them had to be convinced, one way or another. When they got to the border outposts, they either got the blackmail they needed to put the outpost officers in their control, or where they had no hooks in the ranking officer, they... removed the obstacle. S-so, the random attacks on the Perimeter Road outposts... were not...”

He shifted his focus from the documents to her, the last letter trembling in her hand. He took it from her, and placed it in the pattern before answering, "No, they vere not random." A moment's hesitation, and he decided to play the 'ignorant-of-nobility-protocols soldier' and put a hand on her shoulder in a comradely fashion. "Ve vill take theze to de Baron, und he vill make sure theze traitorz are punished."

He nearly took his hand from her shoulder when she began to shake, then she suddenly turned her face to his shoulder and sobbed. It had been a very long time since anyone had turned to him for comfort, but he dimly remembered the way of it. After reading the reports in the folio, he had a good idea what had happened at her family's outpost, and knew her pain, as it had an echo in his past. To have lost all you knew, and not had a map for the next step? Centuries ago, he had been in the same place, a broken soul in a desolate wasteland.

He gathered her into his lap, gently holding her and murmured, "Ve vill meke chure they pay their debtz for de broken oathz, Hy promize."

Flight or Fight, Chapter 1

Trandafira Minka Evacska Hynter had been aware, from an early age, that her family owed their continued existence to the Tyrant of Europa. This had been her earliest catechism. Her family had never been one of the Fifty, but because they supported the Heterodynes, and later the Baron, they retained their lands. They served to hold the line in their mountain stronghold, providing signal relays and reports of movements through the pass. Now, it was time to call on the Baron's protection.

 

She huddled in a corner of the tiny courier ship's main deck, trying very hard to not attract attention. The crew was already annoyed at her for the extra baggage she represented, and the squad of Jägermonsters in the forward lounge on the deck above was bored and hungry. It did not help matters that she was in misery before the trip began, as she had to abandon all that she knew after the death of her father. The movement and smell of the airship were alien to her, and conspired to make her ill, but there was no other way. She must get the documents she carried to the Baron. After the attack on the sentry outpost that had been her home for all of her five and twenty years, there was no one else to take the task.

 

After three days on horseback, she was sure she not entirely pleasant to be with, either. Her small pack had carried the barest minimum of necessities, and there had not been time, when she arrived at the airship outpost, to set herself to rights before the captain had made to cast off. They had barely stopped long enough, with ill grace, for her to clamber up the rope ladder. There were no facilities to wash on board, either - enough drinking water for the crew, but little else. Still, they should reach the Baron's airship fleet in a day, and then the worst of her ordeal should be over.

 

Her emotional state was mirrored by the overcast day, with blustering winds on the ground and sub-optimal flying conditions, judging by the tense manner of the helmsman. The observers were on alert as well, the undertone of their mutterings lost in the drone of the engines. All the tension in the air made it difficult for her to relax enough to sleep. Besides, there being no berths, all she could do was sit on her pack, curled around the document tube hidden in her sash, and wait.

 

~=*=~

 

Dalibor looked out at the storm-clouds ahead and did not like the look of them. But he was not the airship's captain, nor a part of the crew. In his years, he had seen the development of flight from the beginning, when the madboys would fling themselves from the highest tower wearing what they thought would give them wings of eagles, only to smash their brains out on the courtyard flagstones, all in the name of Science. Yes, there had been advances made, but it was not just one madboy to make flight possible.

 

But even the madboys had not gotten around to controlling weather. Oh, fine - nice and impressive to call down lightning, but after you call it, does it behave? More often than not, no - and really, who needs lightning? Just the madboy; the farmers needed gentle rain, and the pilots needed sunny skies, never mind how they liked to impress the girls in the bar with their tales of flying through storms.

 

He didn't like flying through storms outside the stories, and the captain must be mad or desperate to reach the Castle to fly in this weather. Not that anyone told the Jägerkin anything other than when to hunt. And to leave the girls alone. The one they had picked up at the last stop wasn't too bad, even if she showed every mile of her trip. The others in the squad had dismissed her as a waste of time, but you had to respect the distance she had covered, if what the ground crew had said was true - fifteen leagues in three days, even on horseback, in the wastelands was quite a trip for a human alone. She did not look to have any air experience, if he was any judge. Bah, let the crew deal with her if there was something in the wind, he had to make sure the rest of the squad did not lose their hats because of someone else's stupidity.

 

Still, the squad was uneasy, restless - they scented a fight on the wind, and got the feeling they were going to be told to go knit again. The squad leader, a brick-like sort, started to hum one of the old drinking songs, and Dalibor decided it was time to check his gear. The others of the squad thought he was mad to carry about the extra pack that held nothing but what seemed to be a nightgown for a giant, but years of watching flight experiments made him appreciate what a prize he had gotten in that dice game with Captain Robrect. Also a good thing that air pirates underestimated the drinking capacity of the Jägerkin.

 

All right and tight, he was about to stow it back in the cupboard when the first mate arrived in the cargo hold, opened the unit next to him, and muttered, "The chair is beside the door".

 

Shock and anticipation - Dalibor had not heard the phrase in decades, but he responded with a diffident shrug, "Eh, no need to moof it if it gots only t'ree legs."

 

The first mate sighed in relief, and took a folio out from under his shirt, and handed it to Dalibor, who quickly tucked it into his waistcoat. "That, and Dama Hynter, are your charge. All the rest is expendable," he muttered in a quick undertone. He jerked his chin at the parachute in the soldier's hands, "and I hope that can carry two, because we have no spares." with that, he retrieved a chart from the cabinet, and returned to the pilot house... without closing the hatch.

 

A quick glance showed the bin to hold maps, very carefully organized in the manner of the Baron's ships, with the one for the Somme River Valley missing. The mate had taken one chart, but he knew from the mutterings of the crew they were headed for a rendezvous with the Castle, in-route from Strasbourg to Hermannstadt. He closed the cabinet with a nod, noting that the chart on the navigation table would be switched out in case of capture. That meant the first mate expected them to be boarded, and the Dama needed to be gone if they were.

 

At least the squad would get a good fight, and they could possibly win the day, but they were a patrol squad. Eight of the 'kin could reasonably be expected to handle a crew of forty, if you did not mind a few corpses and missing limbs. The first mate's comments made him think there could be more than that expected in the boarding party. He nodded to himself again, and began securing his patrol pack to the parachute straps.

 

~=*=~

 

Trandafira began to rouse at the tone of alarm in the voices around her, and seconds later was jerked to full wakefulness as she was bodily hauled to her feet, and someone was jamming her arms into the straps of her pack. She turned to face her assailant, to be confronted with a frowning Jägermonster. He began to buckle her pack to the straps of his parachute harness, causing her to squeak in alarm, "What are you doing?"

 

"Safing hyu hide, Dama! Now schtop dat und lemmee finisch!!" he growled. As the first explosion rocked the airship, he left off the buckles to grab the support beam behind her.

 

Continuing the task he had left, Trandafira muttered, "... this is insane, they will pick us off as we jump."

 

The Jägermonster chuckled, "Den ve are gunna haff to be schneaky. Dot meanz choozing an onegspected vay out." With that, he picked her up, and headed to the maintenance access ladder.

 

With the difference in their heights negated, Trandafira was able to make the buckles more secure. Her concentration on her task, and the battle preparations around them almost distracted her from the sensation of large, strong hands on her thighs holding her up. She locked her ankles behind him, to keep her legs out of the way, but it also helped to distract her from the thought they were going to jump. The hands were removed when they reached the ladder, and he said, "Ve're gunna haff to get two pipple und der packs t'rough dese passagez all at vunce. It's gunna be a tight sqveeze in vun or two plazez, bot ve can make it."

 

She nodded, and tried to make herself as small as possible against him as he slid down the ladder to the bottom level of the airship. The tail-gunner scowled at them and barked, "Garraddamyway!" as he reloaded. Trandafira was about to respond, when the Jäger laughed, "Chust pazzing t'rough, Gunnie!" and he opened a maintenance hatch.

 

Trandafira was distracted from the small size of the hole by the broad expanse of sky beyond the egress, "I-I-I suppose this would be a bad time to admit I have a fear of heights?"

 

He shimmied them through the hatch, which caused her to be distracted by unfamiliar, confusing and electric sensations. It was not abated with the feel of the winds whipping about them, when he murmured in her ear, "Hy keep hyu safe. Dun vorry, dis'll be fon!" and then he tumbled them off the nacelle cowling into the void.

 

~=*=~

         

Dalibor had not done a tandem jump since his first years with the Storm Riders, and this was one of his first where he was in control, but it was a glorious day for a jump. High winds, an airship battle behind them, a good chinstrap on his helmet, and a verra nice girl strapped to his chest - yes, this was turning out to be a fantastic day. He settled his goggles in place, and began the contract-and-stretch exercises to bring them out of the tumble his launch had started. The captain had been running at the ceiling of the small courier's capacity, so he had plenty of room to make them seem as if they were an inanimate ballast release. Seems as if it had worked; at least he had not been hit by anything, he could not tell about the girl just yet.

 

He had never before heard anyone scream in multiple tones, though. She was going to hurt herself if she kept it up, but it sounded like she might have a nice singing voice. He laughed, and began to sing in harmony with her screeching. Flinging his arms out for stability, he bellowed out the words of the hiking song from the village near his birthplace. "Mein Vater var ein Vanderschmann, Und mir schteckt'z auch im Blut; Drum vandr' ich flott, zo lang ich kann, Und schvenke meinen Hut!" She stopped screaming about halfway through the verse, and though he could not hear her over the wind whistling past them, from the vibration against his chest, she seemed to be joining in on the chorus. Good, he needed her relaxed for the chute opening; otherwise she might snap her neck. As he began to be able to pick out details in the landing area, he gauged it was time to think about landing. Dalibor noted her pack had not had a lumbar strap, so he made sure to support her hips with his free hand, holding her fast, and triggered the chute to open.

 

~=*=~

 

Frozen in fear, she shut her eyes and resisted clawing at her supposed rescuer as they tumbled from the airship, without any idea where or how they would land. She hoped the straps she had buckled herself to were parachute harness straps, but she was not sure. Ground forces equipment she knew, but they had no air support at the fortress in so long, she was not sure. She could have just hitched herself to a madman. When he started writhing she was sure of it, and yet, his curling himself around her triggered something in the back of her mind, but the forefront of her concentration was we're going to die we're going to die we're going to die! She had no idea what was on his alleged mind...

 

He's singing?!?!? He is enjoying himself! Trandafira thought, and the flash of anger made her realize screaming would do little good in their situation. The throbbing in her calf indicated she had either hit her leg during their exit or received a grazing shot there; she could not tell right now with the fright and anger roiling about in her. She was just wishing she had been wearing her riding helm while she had dozed on the airship, but she had been wearing it for days now. It would have been a good idea to wear it now, considering she had no idea how to land. She picked up the chorus when he reached the end of the verse, grasping at the single straw of normalcy she had found in the past days, and tried to ignore the fact they were hurtling towards the earth and relying on, as she understood it, a few ball gowns' worth of silk to keep them from death.

 

She was distracted from the next verse by the hand under her hip and the warm rumbling of his chest as he continued singing. Her heart leaped as there was a tremendous shock, and his hand supporting her head... and he kept singing....

 

~=*=~

 

Dalibor regretfully left off holding the dama after the chute had fully deployed. She was a nice handful, but he had to guide them into a safe landing. Not the easiest thing to do in the mountains, but he had done it before. Just that he had not done this with a passenger. And they were coming in too fast; he could handle a rough landing, but he was not sure she could, and he had been charged with getting her to the Castle.

 

This was going to hurt, but he was going to keep his charge safe. No help for it with the guide lines, he let them go in favor of trying to hold on to Dama Hynter. All things considered, he would have liked to be holding on to her without the prospect of hitting the ground too fast, when there was another pull from his harness. He looked up, to see a second chute deploying - hah, that Captain Robrect must have been a half-madboy himself to have a dead-man chute set-up. Dalibor was still laughing as he ran, and tumbling into the brush.

 

That stopped when he realized the girl had gone limp in his arms. "Dama? Hyu hokay?" Her eyelids fluttered as he felt for a pulse, but she was awfully pale and he smelled blood.  Quickly unbuckling her from his harness, he saw that she had been hit after all, but the leg would be all right with treatment. He tied a quick pressure bandage over the top of her boot, scanning the skies. No pursuit that he could see and night would be falling in a few hours. Best to get under cover for the night though, as she would need to be kept warm and a fire could be seen from the air at extreme distances. He gathered the chutes quickly, and refastened her to his harness for the hike to a likely bivouac.