Oath Bound - Book V of The Order of the Air (30 page)

“Then let’s begin, Mrs. Segura,” Tedesse said, and Alma climbed aboard.

She fastened her seat belts as Mitch took his place in the co-pilot’s seat, and together they ran through the preflight checklists. Lewis started the big engines, and Alma cocked her head to listen as they settled into a steady roar. The long flight the previous day didn’t seem to have affected them, though she would like the chance to break them down before they left for Alexandria. Tiny poked his head into the cockpit, reporting the cargo secure, and Alma adjusted the intercom.

“Gentlemen. We’re preparing for takeoff.”

Tiny ducked out again, and a moment later she felt the hatch slam shut.

“Mooring’s released,” Mitch reported.

“All set, ma’am,” Tiny reported, breathless, and Alma advanced the throttle.

The lake was beautiful, as brilliantly blue as the sky above it, the low waves barely tilting the Cat’s floats. When they landed the night before, she hadn’t realized that Bahir Dar lay at the end of a long bay, a peninsula to the west and a headland to the east hemming in the taxiway. She was just as glad she hadn’t known that last night, and saw Mitch shake his head.

“A little tighter than I thought.”

“Me, too,” Alma answered, and couldn’t help wondering what surprises they’d find at the northern end of the lake. At least they would be making this flight entirely in daylight. “Tiny, get us clearance, please.”

It didn’t take long for Bahir Dar to clear them for takeoff, and Alma pointed the Cat north into the light wind. It was going to be a short flight, barely forty minutes more or less due north across the lake’s long axis, and Alma leveled off a five hundred feet. That should give her plenty of opportunity to spot any obstacles — it would burn more fuel, certainly, but the extra safety was worth it. The water unreeled beneath her wings, pure turquoise; they passed a couple of small islands and then threaded the needle between two larger headlands to emerge into the wider part of the lake.

They passed over a couple of fishing boats, and then a pair of small islands, followed by a larger one.  The latter seemed to have buildings on it, though they looked old and run down and she couldn’t tell if they were still in use. It was a good thing she hadn’t had to try to land in the dark after all.  There were a lot more obstacles than she had known to worry about.  But it was done, and they were safe, making this crossing in broad daylight. She certainly wasn’t going to hit any islands.  After a bit, she began to see the shadow of the far shore, and adjusted her mic. 

“Colonel Tedesse. We’re coming up on the northern shore. Do I need to adjust my heading?”

“You should see the temporary pier,” Tedesse answered. “But if not, turn east and fly along the shore. You’ll find it.”

“Roger,” Alma said, and glanced at Mitch.

He covered his mic. “Well, it’s got the virtue of simplicity.”

“Yeah.” Alma craned her neck as the land came closer, but there was no sign of a pier. Plenty of scrub and trees and cleared spaces that might be fields, but no sign of anything man-made. She banked the Cat, running east along a shore that seemed splotched with patches of bright green that stretched into the water. Whatever they were, they were better avoided, she thought. And then she saw it, a finger of wood stretching out into the lake, men still busy along its length. “Colonel Tedesse.”

“I see it! Wag your wings and circle, and if it’s safe, they’ll send up two red flares.”

If it’s safe? Alma lifted an eyebrows, but said only, “Roger.” She tipped the Cat from side to side, the big plane ponderous in her hands, and circled back toward the lake’s center. As she swung back, she saw two red lights rise and blossom.

“Red flares, ma’am,” Tiny called. “Two of them.”

“I see them,” Alma answered. She banked again, checking the lake’s surface for any sign of rocks or plants or anything other than deep water. There was nothing, and she took a deep breath. “All right, gentlemen.  Prepare for landing.”

She brought the Cat in gently, dumping speed as she skimmed the surface of the lake. The keel kissed the water, skipped, then bit, the hull wobbling as the floats touched. They were still a long way from the end of the pier, and she made a note to double-check the engines once they were docked.

“Cowl flaps open,” Lewis announced. “Temperature’s steady for the moment.”

“Let’s bring her in,” Alma said, and worked the rudder to turn the Cat toward the dock.

L
ewis lugged the last box out the Cat’s side hatch, tipping it onto the dock where it could be collected by a pair of sweating Ethiopian soldiers, the end of a human chain that was manhandling the rest of the boxes down the dock. He looked over his shoulder to see Tiny stripping off his gloves, the cargo space empty at last, and straightened himself, bracing his arms against the edges of the hatch. At least it wasn’t summer: the sun was warm enough anyway, and the air in the Cat was stale and smelled of sweat. The nearest soldier gave him an inquiring look, and Lewis spread his hands.

“All done.”

He wasn’t sure the man spoke English, but the soldier nodded.  “Good.  Good, that.”

He said something else to the man next to him, and the chain began to fall apart, soldiers and civilians stretching and easing their backs, conversation rising as they started to move toward the shore. Lewis stepped gingerly onto the rough-hewn planks, and moved forward to check the mooring lines.  Everything was secure, and he shaded his eyes, looking down the length of the dock. There had been a truck at the end of the makeshift pier, but it had pulled away, and now the Ethiopians were loading the last crates into a cart drawn by a pair of oxen. He could see Alma and Mitch, talking to Iskinder, Tedesse, and a young man in uniform, and trailed after the departing soldiers to join them. Alma turned with a smile of welcome, and as always Lewis found himself grinning helplessly back.

“So what’s the plan?”

“Maybe a slight change,” Alma admitted. “It turns out we’re not as far behind the front as we’d expected, and we’re only a few miles from the field where the Air Force is doing its training. They’re short on parts and mechanics, and their commander — Colonel Robinson? — asked if we’d be willing to help out.”

Lewis hesitated, thinking of the Cat. “Just how close to the front are we?”

“Not too close,” the young man said. He was a lieutenant by his uniform and Tedesse stirred.

“Lieutenant Asha, this is Lewis Segura. The lieutenant is Colonel Robinson’s chief aide and translator.”

“Translator?” Lewis felt as though the hard labor of moving the boxes had slowed his brain.

“Colonel Robinson’s an American from Mississippi,” Mitch said.

“Well, that’s a help.” Lewis shook himself. “Sorry, Colonel. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s just easier with a common language.”

“And I don’t speak aviation,” Tedesse said, politely.  “But Colonel Robinson has done wonders for us.”

“He has made the air force,” Asha said. “But — you know we are under embargo?”

“I try not to think about it,” Alma said, and the young man grinned.

“We’re short on planes as well as pilots, and most of all we’re short on parts. This is a training field, and as such — well, things are always breaking, no matter how careful the students are. And at some point, they must stop being careful. Colonel Robinson sent me to ask if he could buy any parts you were willing to spare.”

Alma and Mitch exchanged quick glances. The Ethiopians clearly didn’t have flying boats, Lewis thought, but things like spare magnetos and belts and washers would transfer easily enough from one machine to another, especially if they had some decent mechanics.

“We have to get back to Alexandria,” Alma said. “I can’t risk that. But — I’m certainly willing to talk things over with your colonel.”

“You would be welcome to come back with us,” Asha said.

Tedesse nodded. “It’s only seven, maybe eight miles — our train is going that way, to pick up a better road once we get away from the lake. I could certainly loan you horses to get you there and back.”

Lewis knew he looked alarmed, and Mitch looked distinctly wary, but Alma was all smiles.  “Great. That would be perfect.”

“We should probably leave Tiny with the plane,” Lewis said. “Maybe I should stay, too, go over the engines.”

“If you want,” Alma said.

“I probably ought.” Lewis could see her making the same calculations that were running through his own mind: it would take them the rest of the day to get the arms and ammunition up to the field and unloaded, and pretty much any way you sliced it, they’d be getting back here after dark. He didn’t really want to fly back to Bahir Dar in the dark, not even having done it once; better to sleep here and fly back first thing in the morning. Even going back to Bahir Dar to refuel, they’d be able to take off early enough to make it to within radio range of Alexandria before sunset. And maybe they could persuade Colonel Robinson to top them up, though if Robinson were like any other front line commander, he wasn’t going to want to spare the gas.

“We’re not going to be out of here before dark,” Alma said. “You might as well come.”

“I think Tiny can take care of the plane,” Mitch said. “You don’t want to miss this.”

And he didn’t, Lewis admitted. When would he ever visit Ethiopia — visit Africa — again? “Yeah. All right, I’ll talk to Tiny — you want me to have him take a look at the engines, Al?”

She considered.  “Check them out, don’t break them down unless he sees something actually wrong. Unless you think he ought? Everything felt good to me.”

“Everything was running perfectly,” Lewis answered. “I’ll just tell him.”

A
lma watched as they led the saddle horses around. One of them was a beauty, a dark chestnut stallion with the high crest that showed his fiery blood — Barb or Arabian. Oh and he knew it too, sidestepping a little, testing the groom’s hand, tossing his head. The other horses were behaving, ordinary working horses who didn’t have time for that nonsense. The beauty was obviously meant for Iskinder, and the groom led him up to where they waited.

Lewis looked almost comically horrified. “You do know I don’t know how to ride,” he said.

Mitch glanced at him sideways. “What?”

“I grew up in San Diego!” Lewis said. “I’m as much a city boy as Jerry. I rode the streetcar to school. I’m not some vaquero.”

“We could ride in the wagon,” Alma said. “There’s plenty of room.” She cast the Barb a yearning look. But he was for Iskinder.

Mitch took the reins of one of the working horses, a neat little mare with a blaze, walking around her head to make her acquaintance. He was a farm boy and no great horseman, but he’d certainly spent the first eighteen years of his life dealing with horses every day. “This lady looks about my speed,” he said. He let her lip at his palm. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

Iskinder paused next to the Barb. He was smiling, a genuine and relaxed smile for the first time since she’d arrived in Alexandria. “Why don’t you take Sultan, Alma? I’ve been out of the saddle quite a while.”

“If you truly don’t mind,” Alma said. Oh, he was a beautiful horse! He was looking at her speculatively, sizing her up as she sized him up.

The groom looked shocked, as did the men standing about.

“Not a bit,” Iskinder said with a courtly nod. “It’s the least hospitality I can show you when you finally visit my homeland. I regret I cannot entertain you as I had hoped.” He handed over the reins. “But you will enjoy Sultan, I think. He seems full of high spirits this morning.”

The groom said something to Iskinder, probably to the tune of was he trying to kill the lady.

“Thank you,” Alma said, and put her hand on his warm neck. He turned his head, looking at her, a kind of speculation in his eye. Oh yes, Alma thought. We have the measure of each other. She put her toe in the stirrup and with one smooth motion mounted up. Sultan stood perfectly still, but she felt his muscles tense. He wanted to go.

Iskinder’s smile turned into a grin. “Why don’t you give him a try then?”

She needed no further encouragement. Alma put her heels to his side and took off across the plain at the lakeshore. His trot was smooth, hooves pounding, and she gave him his head, letting him go all out in a canter as he wanted to. As she wanted to. All the fiddly little things of the last few days, the considering and the planning and the careful husbanding flew away like a hat in the wind. This was it — letting go, the pure, clear joy of movement, hers and Sultan’s. Waterbirds started from the reeds at the lake’s edge, and she turned Sultan in a wide circle.

Lewis and Iskinder and the others were specks beside the wagon, and she pulled back, Sultan going up in a classic pose, her left arm lifting in a wave just as she’d done it so many times.

“Oh you are a good boy,” she said, leaning forward to pet Sultan’s neck as they came down. “Such a good boy.” He nickered in agreement, and together they came back at a slightly more sedate trot.

Iskinder’s smile was ear to ear. “Thank you,” she said.

“It’s my pleasure,” Iskinder replied. “But sadly we must go to Gondar.”

“Of course.” Alma maneuvered Sultan into line behind the wagon next to Mitch on the quiet mare.

Mitch looked at her sideways. “That was quite a performance.”

Alma laughed. “That’s exactly what it was. I used to be in a rodeo show.”

Mitch’s eyebrows rose. “Real life Girl of the Golden West?”

“Exactly. I was in Charley Cassidy’s Wild West Show as Golden Rose, the Colorado Cowgirl.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” Alma grinned, enjoying Sultan’s smooth gait as much as Mitch’s delighted expression. “I toured with them from ‘11 to ‘15. Even went all the way to New York City to perform in Madison Square Garden. I did trick riding and a little roping. Never was much good at calf tying, and it wasn’t a show known for fancy shooting. But bucking broncos? Absolutely.” Alma gave Sultan’s neck a pat. “I did lots of trick riding. I doubt I can do the Roman ride anymore, when you stand up with one foot on each horse, but I could when I was twenty.”