Daughters of the Night Sky(10)

“I’m proud of you, Katya. I knew you could do it,” he said quietly so the passing ears couldn’t hear him. “Karlov must not know what to think.” Vanya’s lips were only a few centimeters from my ear, which garnered more attention than his words would have done, so I kept walking, making Vanya change his position.

“He probably thinks that you’ve been slipping me pointers and that I’d not do nearly as well with another pilot,” I countered. And it was partially true. His confidence in the pilot’s seat made my job much easier. I softened my tone. “Thank you for a wonderful run.”

“It was my pleasure. It’s a joy flying with a skilled navigator for once.” I cast my eyes downward at his praise and forced myself to look back at him as he went on. “Just do me a favor and venture over to the men’s tables in the mess hall, would you? It’s important for a pilot to know his navigator.”

Tokarev had shown no interest whatsoever in getting to know me, but Poda, Taisiya’s pilot, had made similar invitations for her to join the men’s tables. When she ventured over, it was always a lonely meal for me at the women’s table, but Poda’s request was a logical one.

“Sure,” I agreed. “It makes sense. I’ll join you for breakfast tomorrow?”

“I’ll look forward to it, so long as you leave your books in your bag.” He flashed a roguish grin, and I couldn’t help but return the smile.

“I can manage for one breakfast, but do your best to be more interesting than a flight manual.”

Back in the women’s barracks, the news of our flight had already made the rounds, and I was greeted with a round of squeals and hugs from each of my bunkmates. It wasn’t just for the flawless run, but because Karlov had, for once in his career, acknowledged a woman as an aviator. It wasn’t just a victory for me; it was a victory for us all.





CHAPTER 4


May 1941


“You know the theory better than I do, Katya—better than half the instructors. Why do you pore over your books at every chance?” Vanya chided as he playfully collided into me in the hallway.

“I can’t control how many hours I get to fly, but I can control how well I know the techniques.”

I rolled my eyes at his shrug. It all came easily to him, or so he made it seem. Vanya’s assessment of Tokarev’s ankle had been correct—badly broken and torn tendons to boot. One act of clumsiness—falling out of his bunk—and he was grounded for the rest of the year and would finish his training after he healed. It would keep him from conscription off to Poland or the Baltic for several months, at least. Apparently he bore that news with a measure of good cheer, and I couldn’t say I blamed him.

“All you girls are the same,” Vanya said. “You might make better friends with the male pilots if you spoke to us every once in a while.”

“We’re not here to make friends; we’re here to fly,” I countered, turning his earlier rebuke on him. And we have to be better and faster than you to have the chance to be taken seriously.

“You need an afternoon away from your books,” he announced. “We have nothing scheduled, miraculous as that sounds. Drop off your bag in your barracks, and change into civilian clothes. Something nice, but sturdy shoes.”

“I need to study,” I said, not bothering to soften my tone.

“I’ve told you, part of what makes a good navigator is knowing her pilot as well as she knows herself. Consider this a valuable part of your training.”

I wanted to argue, but he was right. And the prospect of an afternoon away from the steel and concrete was deliciously enticing.

“Fine,” I said. “But tell me where we’re going.”

“To enjoy the outdoors. That’s all I’ll say. Meet me here in fifteen minutes.” He tempered his words with a wink, and I cursed myself for not coming back with an appropriately biting reply.

Every female cadet in the academy was sprawled on her bunk, manuals and notebooks strewn before her. Taisiya sat perched over hers, her pen scribbling furiously with her right hand while she clutched her text with the left.

“Quiz me,” she said, not looking up from her book.

“I can’t,” I said, flipping open the lid of my footlocker and unbuttoning my uniform jacket.

Taisiya cast her eyes over the top of her manual, wordlessly awaiting explanation.

“Vanya asked me to spend the afternoon with him,” I said in low tones, but not a whisper. There was no sense in hiding the truth. The academy was too small for secrets. If I tried to hide it, it would cause more talk and lead to even more trouble.

“Don’t let him become a distraction,” she warned, and cast her eyes back to the text.

Perhaps I need one. It’s been a long three years.

“Hardly. But he’s asked me to spend the afternoon out, and he’s saved my rear with Karlov. I can’t tell him no. He’s my pilot, and we need to know one another better than we do.”

“Be careful, Katya,” she cautioned.

“Don’t be that way, Taisiya,” I said, pawing through my meager pile of clothes. “You defect over to the men’s tables to eat with Poda from time to time.”

“I have Matvei, and he knows it. We keep our discussions to aircraft, navigation, and the weather. The latter only when it affects the former,” she said, her notebook now discarded onto the bed instead of perched on her knee.