Daughters of the Night Sky

Taisiya changed course and took the plane to a lower elevation, where she slowed down to below the fighter’s stall speed. She weaved away from the German plane with the grace of a dancer, and we were headed east again in moments. I looked up at our top wing and down at the other. There were more holes than I could count, but we were still—miraculously—airborne.

A second plane came from the south, the metallic whirr of its dual propellers bearing down on us, charging like an enraged dog. Taisiya slowed the plane to a crawl, hoping the pilot would be forced to pull up. It looked as though the German craft was going to slam right into the side of us, so Taisiya dove lower still, knowing there was no way the heavier aircraft could hope to match the maneuver without risking a death spiral. They opened up their machine guns, and it became apparent they didn’t have to catch us. They simply had to get close enough before we dove out of range. The engine smoked ominously—the plane shuddered, making screeching, metallic hisses as it labored to stay aloft, and Taisiya hadn’t corrected for her dive. The Germans would be thrilled to have two bodies to trade in for their Iron Crosses.

“Pull up!” I called to Taisiya. I didn’t bother with grenades this time. I gripped the metal bar on either side of me, fighting the urge to grab the stick and scream for Taisiya to turn over the controls.

I could hear her cough over the interphone. She was trying to tell me something but was unable to speak—the smoke from the engine smothering her words, I guessed. Then she slumped forward. I saw the splotch of red on the back of her jacket and watched for a few seconds, paralyzed, as the red pooled larger and larger on her drab-green uniform.

My controls were unresponsive, rendered useless because Taisiya’s unconscious form weighed down on the stick. I stood up in my cockpit, leaning over my low windshield, and moved her backward so I could regain control. She was still breathing, shallowly. A German plane flew perilously close, so I didn’t bother to sit and maneuver from my own controls. I heard the roar of machine-gun fire but paid no heed to it. I had to choose between lobbing a grenade at it—next to useless, unless my aim was perfect—and keeping the plane from crashing a few meters away from the enemy’s base camp.

I flew the plane, leaning over Taisiya’s slumped form, painfully aware that I was exposed to any more attacks the Germans might think to throw at us. I opened the throttle as far as I could, muttering a senseless jumble of prayers that I would be able to get the plane back to base.

I expected to find the base a flurry of activity, but the planes were grounded and the crews still. All eyes scanned the sky, and it wasn’t until I touched down, landing as gently as I could on the bumpy grass we used for a runway, that any movement began. Medics rushed to the plane, but no one was readying more aircraft.

“Taisiya,” I gasped as Polina took me in her arms. My body, now that I was aware I was on the ground and aware that there was no German machine gun aimed at me, began shaking as though I had been doused in icy water. “She’s been hurt badly. She’s not conscious.”

Medics unstrapped her from her seat and lifted her from her cockpit as gingerly as they could, laying her on the bare ground to assess her. Her face was white as moonlight and streaked with crimson. I watched for those keen eyes to flicker with life, her chest to rise and fall, but there was nothing but stillness. I released Polina and knelt by Taisiya’s side. Taking her hand, I pressed my lips against her too-cold flesh.

Don’t leave me. I can’t do this without you.

I didn’t mutter this aloud, knowing the only ears that mattered wouldn’t hear me. I remembered my horror in Moscow when Taisiya made me realize that we could have been separated into different regiments. I’d not contemplated that fate before she mentioned it, nor could I resign myself to this one. How could I fly without my pilot?

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” a medic said, his fingers on her wrist, seeking a pulse that I already knew wasn’t there.

I could hear Polina’s muffled sobs behind me. I could comfort her later.

The medic pronounced Taisiya had passed. He gave orders to have her placed on a stretcher and carried off, motioning for me to move aside so they could carry out their duty.

“Wait!” I snapped.

Taisiya’s sage brown eyes still looked blankly heavenward, like they sometimes did when she was contemplating a passage in one of her favorite books or a particularly complicated formula. I closed her eyes with a gentle motion of my fingers, softly kissed her forehead, then took her cool hand in mine once more. I pressed my lips to her bloodied knuckles, wishing her lungs would take a breath of their own accord.

“You promised Matvei, Taisiya. You promised him you would stay safe. You can’t—” I spoke in a rasp I barely recognized.