She planted her boots on the thick canvas of the envelope and heaved. Lil came tumbling out on top of her. After they untangled from each other, Lil climbed to her feet and helped Nita up.
“I appreciate you taking this seriously, Lil, but a simple look would have sufficed.”
“Now, now. You said you thought this one was runnin’ a little rich durin’ the trip. When I took a look, I thought I saw somethin’ wrong in there.” She opened her hand. “I found this.”
In her hand was a grainy black substance with flecks of blue in it. It was thick like clay, and it glittered in the light. “What do you make of it?” Lil asked.
“Is it the same filth we had to wash off the deck after that wailer attack?”
“Seems so.”
Nita pinched some of it between her thumb and forefinger. “It’s abrasive. Good eye, Lil. Something like this grinding around in the bearings could have blown the whole turbine if it went unchecked.” She tousled Lil’s hair. “You’re getting to have a real eye for this job.”
“Learned from the best, darlin’. What do you reckon that stuff is?”
“I don’t know. All this time working on your ship I haven’t seen anything like it. Not even after the years of neglect I had to work through when I first showed up.” She rubbed at the stuff some more. “Nasty stuff… And something tells me it wasn’t an accident it ended up coating or filling that ammunition. We should talk to the captain about it. I’m going to want to take apart this whole turbine and clean it out properly. If there had been more of it, or if we’d missed this much before leaving, this would have grounded us during our next long-haul flight.”
“And that’s a problem, seein’ as how durin’ our long hauls, there ain’t no ground. Just ocean.”
“I don’t see any more of it…” Nita said, crouching to look along the envelope.
“Had a good hard rain just yesterday. Could’ve washed it all off.”
“When it rains on the envelope, it rains on the turbine. Why wouldn’t it have been washed out of there?”
Nita crouched and smeared a bit of what was left on her fingers onto the canvas. A scrape of her finger caused it to flake off easily enough. She then smeared a bit onto the cowling of the turbine. Getting it clear took a great deal more wiping.
“What do you make of that?” Lil asked.
“This substance holds devilishly well to metal specifically. There is no doubt in my mind this was manufactured precisely to disable turbines. Come on. Better to get the whole crew to weigh in,” Nita said.
#
Gunner navigated the dimly lit interior of the laboratory. The only light came from burners beneath bubbling beakers. Spiral bits of glasswork traced out branching paths, combining and draining into larger reservoirs. Dr. Prist, the operator of the lab, stood at its center measuring a strong-smelling chemical drop by drop into a test tube. Her idea of laboratory garb was somewhat unique. She wore sturdy goggles and thick rubber gloves with a smock, but her outfit was a rather stately dress and petticoat. It looked a bit like a headmistress of an upper-class academy had taken it upon herself to teach chemistry for the day.
“Samantha,” Gunner called.
“Guy,” she said pleasantly, without looking up. “I should have known you’d arrived. I swear, yours is the only ship that doesn’t feel like it will rattle this whole facility to bits with its engines. It is utterly shameful the state of disrepair our maintenance crews have allowed our ships to fall into.”
“What are you working on?” he asked.
“Something delicate enough that idle chitchat shall have to wait, I am afraid. Be a dear and fetch that canister of pyrum. The next phase is time critical, and I’ve neglected to premeasure it.”
He stepped to her side and opened a fireproof cabinet to collect a small glass jar. The way he moved revealed a precarious balance of enthusiasm and mindfulness of the danger the assorted chemicals represented. “The charges you prepared worked beautifully, by the way,” he began. “So much more consistent than what the Fugtown people tend to—”
“Again, Guy. Chitchat is for after the experiment. Get the pipette. We shall require six drops, beginning at the precise moment the mixture turns cloudy.”
He eased the stopper from the bottle and filled a dropper.
“Watch closely…” she said, voice hushed. She removed the mixture from the heat and continued stirring it with a glass rod. “A moment more… A moment more… Now, six drops, quickly!”
He added the substance. She gave it a final stir and gazed at the swirling solution. The cloudiness intensified and the substance thickened. Her eyebrows rose a moment later, when the tube produced a soft crackling sound.
“The blast cabinet. Quickly, quickly, quickly!” she said.
He rushed to what looked like a fortified trash can and lifted the heavy lid. She lowered the tube carefully inside. Gunner slammed the lid down and latched it shut before backing to the opposite side of the lab. They watched in tense silence for a moment.
A loud click rang through the lab. They practically jumped out of their skin, Prist leaping into Gunner’s arms. When no explosion followed, they turned to find the gruff visage of Captain Mack staring back at them from the doorway. The sound had been him unlatching the door.
“This the sort of thing that should have me runnin’, Doctor?” Mack asked.
She separated herself from Gunner and tamed her somewhat frazzled bun of hair. “Evidently not.” She paced toward the blast cabinet. “It struck me a few weeks ago that the consequences of uncontrolled fire aboard an airship, particularly one loaded with munitions and burn-slow, is rather significant. It would be useful if I could devise something particularly well suited to suppressing fire.”
“Seein’ as how the two of you looked like you were bracing for a blast, I reckon I’ll pass on bein’ the one to test that stuff on an open flame,” Mack said.
“Yeah. Seems to me somethin’ that might blow up isn’t the sort of thing you oughta be dumping on a fire,” Coop said, slipping in behind the captain.
“I will have you know that there are other sources for potential explosion than fire and accelerants. Anything of sufficient pressure can explode. One can never be too careful.”
“You hear that, Gunner?” Coop said. “Maybe if you’d’ve taken lessons from her, you’d still have all your fingers.”
Prist carefully unlatched the blast cabinet and opened it, keeping herself at arm’s length.
“Do we got bad timing or somethin’?” Coop asked. “Seems like every time we show up you’re in the middle of mixin’ up a mess of somethin’ ornery.”
“I am a chemist, Mr. Cooper. You shouldn’t be surprised to find me engaged in my vocation.” Prist fetched a pair of tongs and reached into the cabinet. “Fascinating…” she said.
The contents of the tube were frozen solid, and frost had coated the exterior. “This was an aggressively endothermic reaction. The most significant I’ve seen.”
“Not what you were expecting?” the captain said.
“I’d expected some drop in temperature, but nothing so significant. Guy, fill a beaker with water, would you? And how can I help you, Captain?”
“We hit The Sieve like we planned, then paraded about like we were huntin’ wolves with a steak around our necks. No takers but the usual riffraff. Wanted to meet with you, fuel up, make sure you and your folk didn’t need anything. Things of that sort. I don’t reckon Tusk is fool enough to bring a battle to this place like Alabaster did, but if he does, I want you all to be ready.”
“You’ll have to talk to Digger, Kent, or Donald. I oversee the operation of the production aspect of Ichor Well. Beyond supplying some charges and other martial equipment, they see to the defenses.”
Gunner set down the beaker. She dropped a thermometer into it.
“Is Digger about?” Coop asked.
“I am afraid not. He’s been spending a good deal of time up north. We’ve been doing our best to find a r
eliable way to distribute our goods without the shipments being captured by patrols. Is there something more I can help you with?”
“You done with them… whatchacallit… marital equipment you been workin’ on with Gunner?” Coop asked.
“Martial equipment. And yes. If you can spare a moment, I’ll show you shortly. This needs to be recorded.”
She jotted down the reading on the thermometer, then dropped the frozen tube into the water. It crackled and spat.
“Egad. Thoroughly below freezing… I’ll need to take readings every few minutes for the next hour or so. Ample time to see to those items you’d asked about.”
Captain Mack looked sternly to Gunner. “I only asked for one item,” Mack rumbled.
“I took it upon myself to propose some additional armaments that might expand our combat capabilities,” Gunner said.
“We have cannons, we have fléchette guns. Those are entirely enough. Have you been able to pack up a full load of them good cannon charges, Dr. Prist?”
“Of course. Quite simple, even with the limited apparatuses available to us. Packed and ready. I think you’ll find your cannons should consistently have a few yards more range than they had,” Prist said. “As they did with the hand-packed batch.”
Mack looked to Gunner again. “And our cannons can handle the additional range, goin’ forward?”
“As it so happens, our little clash with the raiders came to its swift and efficient end thanks to Dr. Prist’s new concoction. It took a bit of adjustment, but I much prefer the new mix. No sign of additional stress or wear.”
“Just don’t tinker with the mix anymore. More range won’t do me much good if I don’t know to expect it. Otherwise we’ll be missin’, just the same as those wailers did,” Mack said.
Prist nodded. “I pride myself on slavish devotion to a formula once finalized. You shan’t see more than a two percent variance in any charges I produce. On the subject of charges, however, Digger would prefer we not stockpile explosives, but I can produce them quickly enough to keep a full reload available for you. Ideally, if my fire retardant can be made to function to my requirements, we will have a recourse to extinguish the well if it takes to flame, at which point the threat of warehousing flammables and volatiles will be drastically reduced.”
“That’s all well and good,” Mack said. “I’ll see to the ship.”
“Oh, Captain Mack. I do hope you’ll at least be able to find an opportunity here or there to test some of the other concoctions I’ve prepared.”
“Absolutely not,” Mack said. “I just started sleeping proper after Gunner moved the messier of his bad habits down here.”
“Captain, I would be remiss if I didn’t remind you that we were extremely well served by that little item that sliced an enemy ship out of the air with what seemed to be little more than light,” Gunner said. “And the rocket-propelled grenade has done fine work for us as well.”
“But we ain’t talking about them. The light gadget’s a fug weapon we ain’t been able to get working again, and half the time them rockets’ve been used, they been used to take down the ship they were fired from.”
Prist looked between Gunner and Mack. “Has he not told you, Captain?”
Mack’s jaw tightened. “What ain’t you told me, Gunner?”
“Dr. Prist believes she’s worked out a way to get that light weapon working like a proper handheld rifle. She calls it… What have you dubbed it, Doctor?”
“The original device was dubbed the Phlogiston Ray Caster. I see no reason to change its name simply due to my minor design changes.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Mack said, waving his hand. “That’s last-ditch, all-else-fails stuff.”
Coop nodded. “Like the cap’n says, Gunner. We’ll get to that when we get to it.”
Mack snapped at Coop. “We ain’t gettin’ to it unless we’re at the end of our rope.”
“Sure, Cap’n. But that happens roundabout once a month.”
“Ah, delightful, then,” Prist said. “I’ll just be sure to have the specialty ammunition for rifle, cannon, and ray caster prepared in a few weeks then.”
“That’s all I ask,” Gunner said.
“I ain’t agreed to it!” Mack said. “You two reckon you want to mutiny right now?”
“No, Cap’n,” said Coop.
“No, Captain,” said Gunner.
“Then so long as you’re on my crew, I expect you to at least play-act like you’re listening to me when I give orders.”
“Aye,” said Gunner and Coop.
“Captain, if you don’t mind the observation of a person merely adjacent to your crew?” Prist said.
“Like hell I don’t mind it, but you not bein’ under my command, I can’t order you not to share it,” Mack muttered.
“You seem terribly out of sorts lately.”
“I just fired my first, best shot at the fella what’s been runnin’ the fug for lord knows how long. That’s the sort of thing that’s liable to put a man off his eggs for a bit. While we’re on the subject, anything come through from Digger and his men about that?”
Prist glanced at the thermometer and jotted down a reading. “I’ll have a look. He left me some notes regarding the answers to various potential queries…”
She paced to the far side of the room and opened a small box beside the door. “Let me see,” she said, sifting through them. “No… No… No, I am afraid his searches have turned up precious little. Half of those questioned seemed to legitimately be unaware that Ferris Tusk is still alive, and the others seemed rigidly insistent that he is quite certainly dead and wanted it made clear they thought so.”
“Those are the half that’ve met Tusk then,” Mack said.
“I would certainly count myself in the group who was under the impression he was little more than a significant historical figure rather than a force in current events,” Prist said. “And though my recollections of his more significant deeds are quite sound, I must offer only ignorance regarding the specifics of his life and career.”
“It’s a hell of a trick,” Mack muttered. “Just steppin’ back from history like that. It don’t help that the folks who know he’s still callin’ the shots seem to think he’s doin’ it from everywhere and nowhere. That just ain’t so. He’s got roots dug in somewhere.”
“Are you certain?” Prist said. “Surely it is possible for someone to act as a… sort of government in exile without a permanent base of operations.”
“Ain’t no man ever stayed in charge without havin’ somethin’ big to lean on folks with. Tusk gets his money and power from somewhere. Else he’d just’ve been shoved aside by folks who do get their money and power from somewhere. If we’re going to take him down for good, if we’re going to get him to sit up and take notice, we’re going to have to find it and at least try to take it from him. Hold it hostage in exchange for him leavin’ us be, or else snuff it out—and him with it.”
“I am afraid Digger’s investigations are thus far fruitless. Have you anything more I may help you with?”
“Not as such—”
“Cap’n! We found this gunk up in turbine four!” Lil called, charging in through the doorway.
She and Nita wedged their way into what was becoming a very crowded laboratory.
Lil held out the paste she’d scraped out of the turbine with the enthusiasm of a dog fetching a ball. “Nita says it’d do some real damage to the turbines, and we reckon it got there on purpose.”
Mack raised his darkened lenses to have a look. “You sure it ain’t some sort of buildup?”
Nita looked at him sternly. “It would be a very poor engineer who would miss something like that, Captain.”
“What do you make of it, Doctor?” Mack asked.
Prist sighed. “First, in the future I would recommend handling unknown materials while wearing gloves. It prevents contamination, to say nothing of the safety issues.”
“It’s fine,” Lil said. “I didn
’t get hurt gettin’ it. And it was already dirty when I got it. Dirt can’t get more dirty. Everyone knows that.”
Prist selected another beaker. “Place it here.”
Lil rather gracelessly scraped the stuff into the container. As she tried and failed to wipe the rest off by dusting her hands, Prist investigated the sample. She wafted the scent to her nose, then twisted a knob to brighten the illumination in the lab.
“Curious… I can’t say I know precisely what it is. This seems like a fairly standard adhesive. Some sort of gum, I believe. But this abrasiveness… It will take some time to determine just what you have here. I’ll run some tests.”
“Fine,” Mack said. “If it’s dangerous, let us know. If not, telling me won’t do much good.”
“Captain, I can already tell you—that stuff is very dangerous,” Nita said. “It did a bit of damage, nothing I couldn’t buff out, but another few days and we’d be down one turbine. If this had gotten into all of our turbines, we’d have been dead in the air at best. Depending on how hard we were pushing them at the time, we might have ended up needing full replacements before the ship would move again.”
Mack’s teeth tightened once more. “And we ain’t findin’ out about this till now?”
“It ain’t been there until now, Cap’n,” Lil said. “The only way we’d’ve found it sooner is if we’d’ve looked in the turbine while it was still runnin’. This is that same gunk that came off the spikes the wailers were shootin’.”
Mack reached for his pocket and pulled out his tin of cigars, then grumbled as he remembered his mask was still in place thanks to the fug. “Dr. Prist, as soon as you can get me an answer, get it to me. Nita, I want you back up there and makin’ sure the ship is runnin’ like a top. I ain’t startin’ up a single turbine until they’re gleamin’ like new, understood?”
“Aye, Captain,” Nita said.
“Last thing I need is this ship to fail me now. We’re well past the point of no return on this one already…” he rumbled as he headed for the door. “Can’t have the ship givin’ out on me.”
“Captain, how long will you all be staying?” Prist asked.
Cipher Hill Page 7
