AN: So. I was at soccer, and this idea hit me. Like, one minute I'm dribbling, and the next this idea is in my head. Bam. Naturally, I had to write it down… So, I present to you…

Deryn stared up at the sky, watching the stars glitter. Pressing her hand against the glass, she couldn't help but smile at the feel of the frosty window. The air was cool and crisp, then- the perfect weather for her to suit up and fly.

She couldn't help but glance towards the dark, solid lump of a hangar was. There were her precious flying machines in there, the ones for her to draw and learn about and, occasionally, when she didn't have any formal thing that day… to fly.

Faint footsteps from the corridors made her ears prick. Catching her breath, she froze, barely daring to let her breath fog up the window. Carefully, she reached towards her bed, slipping a hand under the pillow and pulling out a standard military-use rigging knife.

"Deryn."

She relaxed, releasing her hold on the knife. "Count Volger," she said, nodding, "What is it?"

"And what are you doing, still up?" He was always quick when it came to retorts. Before she could respond, he shook his head and said, "Nevermind. Get dressed."

"Why?" Now, she was curious.

"Your father told us to give you night-flying lessons while he was away."

Deryn frowned. "That makes no barking sense. Mom would never agree to that."

"Let's just say you shouldn't mention this to Sophie."

"Aye."

Casting a glance back towards her closet, she asked, "I don't have to wear a stupid dress, do I?"

"No, I'd prefer that you wear your flying suit."

Grinning now, she shooed him out before getting dressed. Pulling the worn leather jacket on last, she glanced towards the door where her fencing tutor was. Sometimes, she thought that her parents had wished she was a boy instead of a girl, what with them giving her fencing lessons and all. Sometimes, she wished that too.

Pulling the rigging knife out, she placed it inside the sheath on her belt. Smiling slightly to herself, she left her room. Volger was nowhere to be seen. Puzzled, she started heading towards the hangar. As she paced down the hall, the mustached man walked up. "Ah, good, you're ready."

"We're going to the hanger, right?"

"Yes."

"What shall I be flying?" She was practically bouncing as she walked. It was difficult to get time to practice flying, due to the simple fact that she was a girl and expected to behave like a proper one. That, and the archduke's daughter at that.

While she was tying her hair back into a sandy colored ponytail, Volger briefed her. "You will be piloting the Skyhawk. Klopp will be with you all the way, of course."

A thought occurred to her. "Wait, you sound like you'll be coming too. What's that for? You never go with me when I fly."

Volger silently swore to himself. The girl was particularly intuitive tonight, eyes narrowed in suspicion at the wildcount. "It's your parents."

Deryn bit her lip. A million possibilities flew through her head, but only one really stood out. "The Germans?" she asked, voice quavering a bit.

"We think."

Gulping, Deryn continued on her way to the hanger. "We're making a run for it?"

"Yes, we are."

She strongly felt like crying now, but she knew one thing; her life was in extreme danger now, and her parents would never like her to be weak at a time like this. Maybe… this was the chance she'd been asking for, a chance to prove that she was every bit as good as any boy, royal or not. Of course, she hadn't wanted the chance to be quite like this.

"Let's hurry," she suggested, breaking into a brisk jog.

It wasn't long before they reached the aircraft hangar. The doors were open and a gorgeous machine had been pulled out. Deryn recognized the three men making final touches to the aircraft, making sure it would be perfect.

"Are you ready to go?" Volger called to them.

Klopp wiped his hands on an oily rag. "I think so, sir."

Volger motioned to the Skyhawk. "Well, go on."

Deryn shot him a glance before striding up to the aircraft. It was (in her opinion) the finest of a new class of air machines called helicopters. Although the cabin was thirty feet long and the tail added an extra fifteen feet to the length, it was elegant and one of the most graceful things in the air.

The propellers on the top meant that it could take straight off the ground, no runway necessary for takeoff. It was the closest thing to a bird the Clankers had, and Deryn thought they were much better than the strafing hawks those Darwinists used.

Climbing into the Skyhawk, Deryn looked around. It really looked like they were planning to be away a while, from what they packed. Some food, clothes, and money, money, money.

Bauer, Hoffman, and Klopp filed in, Volger bringing up the rear. Closing the door behind him, he said, "Anytime, Your Highness, would be nice."

Sensing urgency, she replied with, "Aye," and sat down in the pilot's seat. Klopp sat beside her as the copilot, and Bauer and Hoffman tended to other controls.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Deryn calmed herself down. Alarmingly, she could faintly hear the rumbling of machines. Were these friends or foes? Deryn wasn't going to sit around waiting.

Taking hold of the bulky headset, she reached over and started flipping switches. Speaking in an even tone, she started her command of the aircraft. "Engines, on." A rumbling started to fill the cabin. "Rotors, on." The trees around the Skyhawk started to wave with the force of the wind. "Master Klopp, are we ready for liftoff?"

"Yes, Miss," he replied.

"Mister Hoffman and Mister Bauer, are we ready for liftoff?"

"All signals are good," Hoffman told her.

"Count Volger, are you ready?"

"Yes," he responded shortly.

Flicking on a final pair of switches, Deryn took the piloting joystick and told them, "We are ready for lift off."

AN: I hope you guys liked it! By the way… would anyone be curious/like it if I turned some of these one-shots into stories that I upload part by part to this? Would anyone like to see more of Helen Barlow? Any requests?