Daughters of the Night Sky

“Don’t talk like that, Oksana. We’re getting up. We’re going now if you’re going to try to give in like this.” I moved to release her from my arms and stand, but she summoned the strength to clutch my suit and keep me seated.

“It’s too late for me, Katya. Too much blood. I feel light. Like floating. Please just promise me.” The color in her lips had gone from rosy to blue, and she’d begun to shiver. She spoke the truth, and there was nothing I could do to save her.

I gripped her close to my chest, hoping to spread my warmth to her. “I can’t promise,” I said, not wanting any of our final words to be half-truths or empty promises. “But if I survive, I will do my best. I’ll beg for papers. I’ll do what I can.”

“That’s all I can ask,” Oksana said. I felt her muscles relax, as though I’d relieved her of a heavy burden. “Take your Vanya with you. Have a proper honeymoon by the sea.”

“Can’t you please try?” I pressed my lips to the top of her silvery head, my tears streaming into her hair. “We can try to get you back to the base.”

“I’ll slow you down too much, Katya. You need to go. Soon. I can’t risk your life for the slim chance of saving mine.”

“Oksana—”

“That’s an order from your superior officer. The others need you, Katya. And I’ve done my part. I can die knowing that I have.”

“I can’t lead them the way you and Sofia did,” I said, wiping my face free of the tears.

“No, you’ll lead them in your own way. Tell the commanders I named you as my preferred replacement, though I’m sure they will know it. Now go, Katya. Stay low. I haven’t heard bombs for a while now, so you should be clear from our side.”

She trembled in my arms, from cold, pain, and exhaustion, I was sure, no longer from fear. I wanted to argue. I wanted to refuse to leave. I did not want to disturb the peace of her last moments on earth with a dispute, however, and knew she would only repeat her order if I countermanded her.

My shivers equaled hers as I pulled away from our embrace. I lowered my face to hers and kissed her lips. She’d gone so long without tenderness. Her lips were cold as I pressed mine against them, wishing the air from my lungs could breathe life into hers.

She looked up with her gray-blue eyes, her gaze distant as she tried to focus on my face. “Thank you, Katya. Go and be well. Go home to your Vanya, and make some little painters. The world needs more painters.”

“And the first girl will be Oksana. For you.”

I kissed the top of her head once more and dashed for the mouth of the cave before I lost the resolve to leave.

The camp can’t be far. I can make it there in time and round up a search crew. The brass will allow it for the commander of the regiment. They have to.

I wasn’t more than ten meters away when I heard the crack of her service pistol. I stopped stock still for a moment and swiveled back to look at the entrance to the cave where Oksana’s body now lay.

I could go back and face the scene she tried to spare me from, or I could follow her orders.

I turned in the direction of the sun, whose weak rays had just begun to break over the crests to the east, and placed one foot in front of the other, back to where my duty called me.

CHAPTER 23

Sorties: 795

It was more than twenty-four hours later before I found our camp due to the blanket of snow, the snarls of roots and branches on the forest floor, and my slow progress as I tried to make my passage as silent as possible. My attempts to avoid the attention of any German sentries made for an arduous slog through the Polish wilderness. With each step farther from the German bases, I grew more certain that Oksana could not have survived the journey. Her orders had been just, and they had very likely saved my life.

We’d been written off for dead, as two other teams had seen our crash. They hadn’t seen us deploy our chutes, and even if they had, any attempt to recover us on the German side of the front would have been a suicide mission.

“If we’d seen you—” Svetlana began.

“You would have stayed put or risked your life for no purpose,” I scolded, sipping from the piping-hot cup of tea that Renata refreshed as soon as it began to empty. Her mother had procured a tin of fine tea leaves from the factory where she worked. A token of appreciation for her daughter’s service to be sent to the front. It was as fine a black tea as one might see on the tables of the highest government officials, perfumed with just the right blend of spices. Renata knew me well enough not to ruin the effect by adding any milk or sugar.