Daughters of the Night Sky

The male voice called me back to the present in the midst of a song. I stifled a sigh of disappointment as I saw an instructor, Captain Fyodorov, stride in to take a seat near mine. He lit a cigarette and reclined in his chair. He seemed generally the good sort—more amused than annoyed by our presence. I’d navigated for him on a number of runs, and he was a more-than-capable pilot, though he lacked Vanya’s grace and Taisiya’s instinctive tactical skills.

“Thank you,” I said. “I find that playing at lunchtime refreshes me for the afternoon classes.”

“They have you girls on a tough schedule, that’s for sure,” he said with a dismissive wave of the hand that gripped the cigarette. Some ash flitted over in my direction, and I had to brush the hot ember from my instrument before the finish was marked by it. Were he not a superior officer, I would have berated him for the careless gesture.

“Military school at top speed,” I agreed. “But it’s good to know who can handle it and who can’t.” I remembered the cadets at the academy—male and female—who bent under the strain of rigorous training even outside the immediate threat of war.

“The brass wanted to be sure you girls could handle combat so we don’t waste aircraft. I think the whole exercise is ridiculous,” he said, taking a long drag off his cigarette. “A few of you with military training can handle it. Most will be begging to go home in three weeks, mark my words.”

“I won’t contradict you, Captain. I can only do my part to prove you wrong.” I placed my violin and bow back in their case, snapping the latch harder than I should have done. Now that my peace was shattered, there was no sense in trying to piece it back together.

“Now, now. Don’t get in a huff,” he said. “I rather enjoy my post, if I’m telling the truth. Far from the front and all that. And you girls make for much nicer scenery than the trenches.”

I rolled my eyes and stood to leave. I might get a reprimand for disrespecting a senior officer, but I would ask for forgiveness later.

“You’re angry with me.” He stood and placed his nose even with mine. It wasn’t a question.

“You’re observant,” I said, gripping my case until I could feel the skin straining painfully over my white knuckles.

“Of course you are. You’re out of your proper element. Anyone would be out of sorts to be so out of place.”

“In fact, I am ‘out of place,’ Captain. I’m expected in class in just a few moments, and unless I want to explain why I’ve arrived with my violin in tow, I need to be on my way.” I turned to the door but felt his hand grip my elbow.

“Don’t be churlish,” he said, mirth and malice seeping from his words. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant, but I haven’t any desire to spend time in the brig for telling you what I think. Let me go.” I motioned to leave, but he refused to loosen his grip.

“You do know where a woman’s proper place is, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes. You like men, don’t you?”

“My husband in particular,” I said, yanking my elbow free.

“You know he’s probably got a flatback in every town he’s been to, right? They’re all like that. Why not have some fun yourself?”

He grabbed my arm again, this time pulling me to his chest. He gripped my hair with his other hand and forced my lips to his. His tongue invaded my mouth, probing, claiming. He moved his hand from my elbow to clutch my backside, squeezing painfully. I tried to push him back, but his bravado was matched by his bulk.

Clamping the handle of the violin case as tightly as my fingers would allow, I drew the case out wide, then drove its narrow end with all my might into the side of his head. He released me at once, staggering backward, and I stormed from the recreation center before he could retaliate.

Thankfully the barracks were empty. I would not need to face my sisters in arms or my instructors with the hot tears of anger tracing the contours of my face. Had I less respect for one of the few mementos I had of my father, I would have thrown the violin in my trunk with enough force to send it through the reinforced wood at the bottom and ten centimeters deep into the concrete. As it was, I worried the captain’s thick skull might have damaged the scroll or the fragile pegs when I sent the case crashing into it.

I sat at the edge of my bunk, put my face in my hands, and focused on quelling my rage. I had to show mastery of myself, for there was no doubt I’d be called in for what I’d done. Well, at least Mama and Vanya would have their way. I’d be sent home. But with a black mark on my record that would keep me from teaching anywhere but a tiny flight club in some far-flung eastern village.

“Lieutenant Soloneva.” Sofia’s voice pierced the silence of the empty barracks. “You’re wanted in the officers’ quarters. There seems to be some concern as to why Captain Fyodorov may be suffering from a concussion.”