After Angelica, Sam, and the Russians drove away, Hannah, Veronica and Tamara went back inside the Widow's airship. A steward led them to the briefing room. "Major Popova requests you wait here until she returns.” The man closed the door and left.

Hannah was slightly surprised not to hear him locking it behind him, but perhaps the door didn't have a lock. Any moment, she expected Russians to come drag them out, line them up against the wall, and shoot them for being soldiers out of uniform in a war zone. Angelica had been convinced by the Widow's words, but Hannah wasn't so sure.

She hadn't been paying very much attention at the time because of the wound to her arm. She rubbed the bandage through the sleeve of her coverall. It didn't hurt anymore, except for a slight ache.

What had really happened out in the woods? She and Veronica had fought off the golems and then gotten separated. She couldn't remember what came next. She had a painful lump on her head, too. She must have blacked out. She had woken up in a jumble of boulders next to two other bodies—a Russian Hussar and one of the Polish privates. Her arm had been torn and bloody, and her head throbbed. She had made her way back to her mech, which had been standing nearby, then back to camp. They had bandaged her up, but the rest of the evening was a blur. When was the last time she slept?

"Hannah?" Tamara was talking to her.

"What was that? I didn't hear."

Tamara frowned at her and then pointed out the window. "What do you suppose that is? It looks like the stupidest thing I've ever seen." Veronica was also standing at the windows, looking out at the bustling activity of the Russian base.

Hannah moved forward to see what they were talking about. The contraption looked like a bicycle with a gun on it. She blinked and shook her head, realizing it was much farther away than it looked. It did look like a bicycle, like one of those old-fashioned ones with a huge front tire and a tiny back one. Only the huge tire was 20 feet tall, and instead of a rider, it had a gun turret.

"What the heck? Is that supposed to fight? It looks ridiculous," Tamara said. Everywhere they looked were strange, old-fashioned devices and bizarre sights. A peculiar-looking bomber was being loaded with something massive.

"Are those bombs?" Hannah asked. She pointed to the device being loaded on the plane.

"It has windows! And look," Tamara said, "there are little stabilizers in the front. You don't put those on the front of a bomb, only in the back."

It looked like an old, fully enclosed, horse-drawn carriage that someone had stripped of its wheels and trappings, then slung it underneath an airplane. It had windows at the front, and stubby wings at the front and back.

"So what does that mean?" Veronica asked. She folded her arms. She had been in a foul mood since they arrived. “If we’re here, we should be using our heads.”

"That it flies horizontally? I don't know. With those little stubby wings, it must have a luff engine." Hannah wasn't sure how Tamara knew that, but she was the only one here who knew about flying.

“It means it’s manned,” Veronica said darkly. Hannah started to ask about that, when the door of the briefing room creaked open.

Sergeant Wysocki entered, followed by the rest of the surviving Polish enlisted men. He gave them a sheepish smile and then a salute. "Ma'am, we were told to wait here."

He held his salute as Hannah looked at him. She realized he was saluting her. She was the ranking officer here. The thought made her a little dizzy.

She returned the sergeant's salute. "Good to have you. Find a seat. Or come check out all the crazy stuff the Russians have."

Wysocki stepped forward tentatively to take his place beside them at the window. "It's not stuff you're familiar with?" he asked, glancing at Tamara.

She frowned and shook her head. "No, this is General Morozov’s army. He likes playing with all the silliest toys." She pointed out the strange bicycle tank. Soon the other enlisted men were crowding around the window as well, talking about the strange sights.

"Is that Captain Lewis?" the sergeant asked.

"What, where?" Veronica's head snapped around. Wysocki pointed to the line of aircraft.

A couple of Russian aviators were walking toward the craft. One of the men turned and looked up at them before lifting a hand to wave. It was Frank Lewis, wearing the uniform of a Russian pilot with thick leathers and a flying helmet.

"What the hell?" Tamara said. Veronica's mouth hung open, and she looked aghast. Frank and the other man climbed into the bomber, and they all watched as it started its engines and rolled toward the airfield. The strange pod was still slung underneath.

"Is someone supposed to ride in that dangling bit?" one of the corporals asked. Most of the others muttered, seeming to agree that was ridiculous.

Concerned, Hannah looked at Veronica. She stood with her arms wrapped around herself, glaring after the aircraft as it took off and flew away. Hannah wanted to ask what was wrong, but the Hungarian woman's face was such a storm cloud of emotions, she thought it best to leave her be.

Tamara stepped away from the window. "Hey, I wanna get out of here and check some stuff out. Are you coming?" She addressed the other two girls. Veronica just shook her head and stared at the table.

"Aren't we supposed to stay here?" Hannah asked.

Tamara waved her hand dismissively. "I just want to check a few things out and stretch my legs a bit. We'll come right back."

"I don't think we should."

"Come on, it'll be fun."

Sergeant Wysocki turned from the window. "Ma'am, you can't go wandering around a Russian base alone."

Tamara shot a frown at him. "I won't be alone, Hannah's coming with me."

"I don’t --," Hannah started to protest, but Sergeant Wysocki interrupted.

"Then we're coming with you," he said, as he tapped another man, Corporal Sienkiewicz, on the shoulder.

Hannah was mildly surprised that there weren't guards outside their door. She was still trying to think of another protest that would convince Tamara to stay in the airship, even as they descended the stairs and headed across the field.

"Now don't gawk too much," Tamara was saying. "Just act as if you're supposed to be here and everything will be fine. No one ever questions someone who looks like they know where they're going."

Hannah stuck close to Tamara as they crossed the open field the airship was parked in. She had a hard time staying calm as they moved into the camp proper, walking between tents and makeshift structures. Everywhere, Russian soldiers bustled about. Most were technicians and laborers, not infantry. Generally, conscripts with rifles were kept to their own camps and not allowed to roam, for fear of theft, desertion, and other mischief they could get up to. A conscript in a military camp was a virtual prisoner.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

The Polish soldiers blended in well here with their nondescript coveralls. Many of the laborers and technicians wore similar garments. That didn't make Hannah feel any safer.

Sergeant Wysocki and Corporal Sienkiewicz trailed along behind them as Tamara led their little squad on a meandering course through the enemy encampment. She kept up a stream of interesting chatter, talking about the differences between the Polish army, or what she had seen of it so far, and her experience with the Russian military. Hannah only half listened.

A formation of flying machines buzzed overhead, and Tamara got really excited. "Airmechs! Look, those are the new models! Let's go check them out!"

"What?" Hannah looked after the machines, but they were already disappearing in the distance. She hurried after Tamara and tried to keep up.

A half mile away, at the other edge of the encampment, there was another aerodrome. This one had rows of pursuit biplanes lined up in front of hangars and barracks tents. In the open field itself was a large group of people wearing impressive uniforms. Hannah stopped when she saw them. Tassels and shiny buttons and chests full of medals dominated the crowd. Some of them were Russian, but more than a few appeared to be Romanian. They were all talking or watching the sky.

Above, a formation of flying machines circled. Hannah squinted at it. She had never seen Russian flying mechs before, though she had heard about them in training, as well as seeing Tamara’s mech after it had been put back together. They weren't common. They were neither as effective as pursuit aircraft nor as heavily armored as normal mechs.

Hannah had stopped when she saw the crowd of brass. Tamara turned and urged her on. "Come on, let's go check it out!" She physically grabbed Hannah's arm and dragged her forward to join the edge of the throng.

The flying mechs circled back and came in low down the airfield in a tight formation. The mechs' arms and legs were tucked in close. They had a frame attached to their back that provided wings and a pod holding what had to be a luff engine above that. Big gasoline engines stuck on outriggers on either side, spinning propellers which provided the forward propulsion. Their throaty roar sounded no different than other aircraft Hannah had seen.

"Oh look, they have two engines!" Tamara sounded very interested. "I had heard they'd been experimenting with those. My old flying frame just used fins. It had to go up and down like a fish."

Hannah looked at her in surprise. "Like a fish? Fish can't swim in the air."

Tamara waved her hand like a flapping wing. "Oh, like a bird then, whatever. The idea is the same. You can soar on air currents once the luff engine lifts you high enough." She moved her hand up and down.

Hannah noticed some of the crowd nearby had turned and were looking at them. One young man in a very impressive looking uniform looked at her intently, splitting his attention between the craft in the sky and Tamara's vivid hand motions. The Cossack girl was still talking. "It works, but it makes it tricky to land and take off, and it's hard to fight with other aircraft. Oh look, here they come! I want to see how they land." Tamara broke off her description.

The mechs circling the airfield had broken up their formation, spreading out into a long line as they circled in. Hannah guessed that that was because they didn't want to be too close to their friends when they tried to land these contraptions.

The first one swooped low, its engines roaring. It pitched its nose up, angling the propellers towards the ground. It dropped low and then bobbed up again as the wind from the props flattened the grass all around. The mech seemed to stagger in the air and then drop back down.

"Uh-oh, she throttled the luff engine back too much," Tamara observed.

The mech came down hard, its knees buckled, and it took two staggering steps before pitching forward on its face, plowing into the dirt. The crowd oooed and aaahed at the spectacle.

"Well, that was pretty much shit," Tamara said.

The young officer next to them glanced at her and then looked back to watch the next one coming in.

The other mechs came in to land in much the same fashion. None of them fell flat on their face the way the first one did, but they all stumbled coming out.

The last one slowed down as it landed, throttling its engine back to just a purr. Again, it bounced up slightly, but not as spectacularly as the others. When it started to drop again, it didn't fall like a stone. The mech rider was able to keep her feet, though she stumbled forward awkwardly.

When the final mech stumbled to a halt, the audience of assembled officers broke into applause.

"What are they clapping for? That was terrible," Tamara commented.

An older officer standing next to us whirled on her. "How dare you? The Duchess flies wonderfully. Didn't you see how much better her landing was than the others? She's a natural."

Tamara snorted. "Hardly. She needs more practice. And I think their entire technique was wrong."

The man puffed up, outraged. "Outrageous! Who are you? I'll have you..."

The younger officer that we had talked to earlier stepped forward and held up a hand. "Sir, if you please. I am in charge of the Duchess's training, and I'm very interested in what this woman has to say."

The man groused but stood down. He acted as if the younger man had just pulled rank, which struck Hannah as odd. She couldn’t read any of their rank insignia, but the older officer had a chest full of ribbons, making him important, and the younger man’s uniform looked almost practical. Hannah noted he had flight officer's wings on his uniform.

"Please continue," the younger officer said. "I would love to hear your thoughts."

Tamara smiled and relaxed, though Hannah was still terrified they would be hauled off and shot. What part of this was stealthy? Keeping a low profile? "Well, first of all, I think their entire approach is wrong. Who trained them? An aero-plane officer?"

The man nodded. "Why yes. I was in charge of it myself. Several of our finest pilots were involved in their training."

Hannah winced as Tamara scoffed again. "It shows."

But the man sounded more confused than upset. “What do you mean?”

"They're approaching the landing as if they're flying a winged aircraft. The flight pack does have wings but they're not the main source of the machine's lift. A mech is considerably heavier than a pursuit plane, even if its wings look similar. You have to fly them like an airship or a gunship. The wings steer and assist in the lift, but they don't provide most of it. They should pay more attention to controlling their luff engine, at least as much as the attention they're paying to the angle of attack of their wings." She held up her hand at an angle to demonstrate the concept.

Hannah wasn't sure what she meant. What did an attack have to do with landing an airplane? She didn't understand most of what Tamara was talking about.

"When you land with the old-style flight packs, you treat your angle of attack as the control of your forward airspeed, and your desh engine as your vertical control, even though it's a bit of both. It's hard to describe without doing it."

“What unit are you with?” the man asked, but Tamara ignored the question. She pointed to the mechs on the field, even now, that were marching off the airfield.

"Were they trained with a dual control setup?"

The man shook his head. "No, the Grand Duchess was given the honor of being the first to be issued the new flight packs."

Alarm bells went off in Hannah's head. Grand Duchess? Who was this mech rider to have garnered so much attention? A sycophantic crowd and elderly generals offended at any disparagement? Hannah felt sick to her stomach. What had they stumbled into?

Tamara continued to talk animatedly with the officer. He was nodding at what she said. She used her hands to describe how she would accomplish a landing in such a thing. Hannah marveled that she spoke with such confidence about a kind of craft she apparently hadn't used before. Hadn't she said that her flight pack hadn’t had propellers on it?

Hannah wished she herself could be that confident about anything. She tugged on Tamara's sleeve. They really needed to get out of here. More and more of the surrounding officers were turning to pay attention to Tamara's explanation. Their faces were a mixture of interest, confusion, and outright hostility. This much attention could not be good.

Hannah tugged at Tamara's sleeve. "Tamara, we have to get going."

Tamara broke off and made her apologies. "Uh, sorry."

The flight officer she had been talking with shook his head. "No, no, it's quite alright. Thank you, Miss... uh, Tamara."

He held out his hand and Tamara took it. "Thank you. I will take your inputs under advisement for the squadron's training. I'm sure the Grand Duchess will benefit from your insights."

Hannah tugged her sleeve again. "We've got to go," she hissed.

Tamara turned and they started away. Hannah hissed in her ear, "Did you know who that was?"

"What? Who? The flyer?" Tamara asked.

"Yes! They called her the Grand Duchess."

Tamara shrugged. She caught the attention of a man that was coming towards them, headed for the crowd they had just left. "Hey you? What's all the hubbub about? Whose squadron is this?"

The man looked at her in confusion and then said, "Why, it's the Grand Duchess Anastasia’s flying wing, of course."

Tamara's mouth dropped open. Hannah grabbed her elbow and paraded her away.

What the hell had they stuck their noses into? They hurried away from the airfield without stopping again.

"Do you think that's really her?" Hannah asked.

"I don't know," Tamara said. "I've never seen her before."

"She's the only one of the Russian princesses who could bond with mechs, isn't she?"

Tamara shook her head as she walked. "I don't think they even tested the others. She's far enough from the throne. Fifth in line. I guess they're okay with letting her pilot one."

"Isn't she fourth in line?"

Tamara shook her head. "No, fifth, after the empress's son and her other sisters."

"That would still be fourth. You don't count the sister that's on the throne."

Tamara shrugged. "Oh, I guess you're right. Fourth then. Until the Tsar and Tsarina have more kids."

"After all these years? I'm not sure that's likely."

"What do you suppose she's doing here?"

Tamara shrugged. "Isn't her brother-in-law from Romania? So maybe that's it. Maybe she's visiting."