It didn’t seem fair to lose this feeling, not after those two long years of missing Da’s balloons. Surely Rigby could see that she’d been born to fly.
A crosswind ruffled the Huxley, and as Deryn pulled it back on course, a horrible notion struck her. If she were the unlucky middy, would this be her last time in the air? With war coming, surely they’d stick her on another airship. Maybe even the Minotaur, where Jaspert was serving.
But the Leviathan felt like part of Deryn now, her first real home since Da’s accident. The first place where no one had ever seen her in a skirt, or expected her to mince and curtsy. She couldn’t lose her position here just because some boffin needed transportation!
The ground men were running along in the Huxley’s shadow, ready to reach up and grab its tentacles. She tipped the gliding wings back to slow the descent, easing the air-beast down into their grasp. There was a jolt as they pulled her to a halt, and the message lizard made a squawk.
“Constable Winthrop?” it babbled.
“Hang on another minute!” she pleaded. The lizard made a tut-tut noise, sounding just like Mr. Rigby when the middies were squabbling. She hoped it wouldn’t start jabbering. Message lizards could babble old snatches of conversation when they were nervous. You never knew what embarrassments they’d repeat.
The ground men pulled the Huxley steady and drew it quickly down.
She unstrapped herself from the pilot’s rig and saluted the chief constable. “Midshipman Sharp reporting with the captain’s lizard, sir.”
“That was a smart landing, young man.”
“Thank you, sir,” Deryn said, wondering how to ask the constable to pass this sentiment on to Mr. Rigby. But the man was already tugging the lizard from her shoulder. The beastie started to babble about landing ropes and wind speeds, rattling off instructions faster than a dozen signalmen.
The constable didn’t look as though he understood half of what the lizard was saying, but Fitzroy would be here soon to help. She spotted his ascender landing not far away, and was pleased that she’d beaten him down.
The airship’s shadow fell across them then, and men began to scramble in all directions. This was no time to dally. Fitzroy was in charge here; it was Deryn’s job to prepare the boffin’s cargo for loading.
She saluted the chief constable again, glanced up at the airship looming overhead, and took off for the zoo at a run.
SIXTEEN
His Majesty’s London Zoo was squawking like a bag of budgies on fire. Deryn skidded to a halt at the entry gate, stunned by the tumult of hoots and roars and shrieks.
To her right a troop of monkeys clung to the bars of their cage, howling into the air. Past them a netted enclosure was full of agitated birds, a blizzard of plumage and noise. Across a wide moat a giant elephantine stamped the ground nervously, sending tremors through Deryn’s boots.
“Barking spiders,” she swore softly.
She’d made Jaspert take her to the London Zoo five weeks ago, fresh off the train from Glasgow. But on that visit she’d heard nothing like this ruckus.
Obviously the Leviathan had put the beasties in a state.
Deryn wondered how the airship must smell to the natural animals. Like a giant predator coming to gobble them up? Or some long-lost evolutionary cousin? Or did its tangle of fabricated species make them think a whole island was floating past overhead?
“Are you my airman?” a voice called.
Deryn turned to see a woman wearing a long traveling coat, a valise in one hand.
“Pardon me, ma’am?”
“I was promised an airman,” the woman said. “And you appear to be in uniform. Or are you simply here to throw peanuts at the monkeys?”
Deryn blinked, then realized that the woman was wearing a black bowler.
“Oh … you’re the boffin?”
The woman raised an eyebrow. “Guilty as charged. But my acquaintances call me Dr. Barlow.”
Deryn blushed, bowing a little. “Midshipman Dylan Sharp, at your service.”
“So you are my airman. Excellent.” The woman held out the valise. “If you would be a dear, I’ll just fetch my traveling companion.”
Deryn took the bag and bowed again. “Of course, ma’am. Sorry to be so thick. It’s just that … no one told me you were a lady.”
Dr. Barlow laughed. “Not to worry, young man. The subject has occasionally been debated.”
With that she turned away and disappeared through the gatehouse door, leaving Deryn holding the heavy valise and wondering if she was seeing things. She’d never heard of a lady boffin before—or a female diplomat, for that matter. The only women who tangled with foreign affairs were spies, she’d always reckoned.
But Dr. Barlow didn’t quite have the air of a spy. She seemed a bit too loud for a job like that.
“Careful now, gentlemen,” her voice boomed from the gatehouse.
Emerging from the door were two young boffins in white coats, carrying a long box between them. The men didn’t introduce themselves to Deryn. They were too focused on taking small, cautious steps, as though the box were packed with gunpowder and good china. Sprigs of packing straw poked out between the boards.
No wonder the Leviathan was landing smack in the middle of London—this mysterious cargo was too fragile to stick on a horse cart.
Deryn stepped forward to lend a hand, but hesitated when she felt a squick of heat rising from the box.
“Is something alive in there?” she asked.
“That’s a military secret,” said the younger of the two boffins.
Before Deryn could answer, Dr. Barlow burst from the gatehouse, pulled along by the oddest fabricated beastie that Deryn had ever seen.
The creature looked like a sleek tan dog with a long snout, and tiger stripes on its rump. Straining against the leash, it stretched out to sniff Deryn’s offered hand. As she stroked its head, the beastie leaned back on its strong hind legs and hopped once in place.
Did the animal have a squick of kangaroo in its life thread?
“Tazza seems to like you,” Dr. Barlow said. “Odd. He’s usually shy.”
“He’s very … enthusiastic,” Deryn said. “But what in blazes is he for?”
“For?” Dr. Barlow frowned. “Whatever do you mean, Mr. Sharp?”
“Well, he doesn’t look like a hydrogen sniffer. Is he some sort of tigeresque guard dog?”
“Oh, heavens!” The woman laughed. “Tazza isn’t fabricated, and he isn’t for anything. Except that I hate traveling without him.”
Deryn pulled her hand away and took a step back. “You mean, that beastie’s natural?”
“He’s a perfectly healthy thylacine.” Dr. Barlow reached down to scratch between the bouncing creature’s ears. “Commonly known as the Tasmanian tiger. Though we find the comparison to cats a bit infuriating, don’t we Tazza?”
The thylacine yawned, its long jaws opening as wide as an alligator’s.
Dr. Barlow had to be joking. The creature didn’t look natural in the least. And she was taking it along as a pet? Tazza looked heavy enough to displace at least one unlucky midshipman.
But it seemed undiplomatic to point that out, so Deryn cleared her throat and said, “Maybe we should get onto the field, ma’am. The ship’ll be down soon.”
Dr. Barlow gestured to a steamer trunk resting by the gatehouse door. A covered birdcage was sitting on top. “If you’d be so kind, Mr. Sharp.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Deryn sighed. She tucked the valise under one arm and lifted the birdcage in that hand. The trunk weighed almost as much as she did (another middy gone), but Deryn managed to lift one end and drag it along. The four of them—and Tazza the thylacine— headed back into the park, the boffins carrying the box at a snail’s pace.
As they made their way toward the airship, Deryn grumbled under her breath. It was one thing giving up her berth for a renowned boffin on a secret mission, but if some daft beastie named Tazza was going to take her place, the world had gone com
pletely barking spiders.
Dr. Barlow clicked her tongue. “Your airship looks unhappy.”
The Leviathan was still about fifty feet up, the captain bringing her down with infinite caution. The cilia on its flanks were rippling, and flocks of fabricated birds roiled across the park, driven from their nesting coves by the airship’s twitchiness.
What was the great beastie so nervous about? Deryn glanced up, remembering the squall that had almost ended her Air Service career on the first day. But the sky was cloudless. Maybe it was the gawkers surrounding the field, their bright parasols twirling in the sun.
“My cargo requires a smooth ride, Mr. Sharp.”
“It’ll be calm once we’re off the ground,” Deryn said. In one airmanship lecture Mr. Rigby had filled a wineglass to the brim—even during hard turns not a drop had spilled over. “It’s just that the airflow gets messy down here.”
Dr. Barlow nodded. “Especially in the middle of London, I suppose.”
“Aye, ma’am. The streets tangle up the wind, and the big ships get nervous coming down on unfamiliar fields.” Deryn said this flatly, not mentioning whose fault the situation was. “You see those wee grassy bits on the ship’s flanks? They’re called cilia, and they look shivery to me.”
“MOORING AT REGENT’S PARK.”
“I know what cilia are, Mr. Sharp,” the lady boffin said. “I fabricated this particular species, in fact.”
Deryn blinked, feeling like a ninny. Lecturing one of the Leviathan’s creators on the subject of airflow!
The thylacine was bouncing happily on its hind legs again, its big brown eyes taking in all the activity. Two elephantines waited below the airship, harnessed to a transport wagon and an armored car. The constables could hardly keep the crowd back from the spectacle.
With no mooring mast in the park, ropes stretched in all directions from the Leviathan. Deryn frowned, noticing that some of the men clinging to them weren’t in Service uniforms. She spotted a few policemen, and even a team of cricketers drafted from games in the park.
“Fitzroy must be daft,” she muttered.
“What’s the trouble, Mr. Sharp?” Dr. Barlow asked.
“Those men on the ropes, ma’am. If a squall comes up quick, they won’t know to let go—and fast—or be carried up into the air …”
“Where they shall eventually lose their grip,” Dr. Barlow said.
“Aye. One strong gust can carry the Leviathan up a hundred feet in seconds.” It was the first thing they taught ground men: Don’t hang on. The trees rippled overhead, sending a shiver through Deryn.
“What would you recommend we do, Mr. Sharp?”
Deryn frowned, wondering if the ship’s officers knew what was going on. Most of the untrained men were back at the stern end, out of sight of the bridge. “Well, if we could get word up to the captain, he’ll know to get down fast, or cut the ropes if a squall hits.”
She scanned the field, looking for Fitzroy, or anyone in charge. But the park was all in chaos, and the chief constable nowhere to be seen.
“Perhaps Clementine can help us,” Dr. Barlow said.
“Who?”
Dr. Barlow handed Tazza’s leash to Deryn, then reached for the birdcage. She opened the linen cover and reached inside, pulling out a bird with gray feathers and a brilliant red tuft at its tail.
“Good morning, Dr. Barlow,” the bird squawked.
“Good morning, dear,” she answered. Then she said in a slow, clear voice, “Captain Hobbes, greetings from Dr. Barlow. I have a message from Mr. Sharp: You appear to have some untrained men on your ropes.” She looked at Deryn and shrugged. “And … I look forward to meeting you, sir. End message.”
She gathered the bird closer to her chest, then pushed it toward the airship.
As it swept up and away, Deryn murmured, “What was that?”
“A message parrot,” Dr. Barlow said. “Based on the Congo African Grey. We’ve been training it especially for this trip. It can read airmen’s uniforms and gondola markings, just like a proper Service lizard.”
“Training it, ma’am?” Deryn frowned. “But I thought this Constantinople business came up all of a sudden.”
“Indeed, things are moving more quickly than expected.” Dr. Barlow lay one hand on the mysterious box. “But some of us have been planning this mission for years.”
Deryn gave the box another wary glance, then turned to watch the parrot. It flapped through the ropes and guidelines, straight into the open windows of the bridge.
“That’s brilliant, ma’am. It’s like a flying message lizard!”
“They have many of the same life threads,” Dr. Barlow said. “In fact, some of us believe that birds share ancestors with the ancient lizards… .” Her voice faded as the Leviathan’s tanks let loose with a spray of ballast.
The ship rose a little, the men on the ropes skidding along the ground in a losing tug of war against the airship.
“Blisters!” Deryn swore. “Why’s he climbing?”
“Oh dear,” Dr. Barlow said, looking down. “I do hope that was Clementine.”
Deryn followed her stare to the birdcage. Another hooked gray beak was poking out, gnawing on the bars. “There’s two of them?”
The lady boffin nodded. “Winston tends to garble things, and I can never tell them apart. It’s such a bother.”
Deryn swallowed, watching as the ballast water rained down on the ground men’s heads. It sparkled prettily in the sunlight, but Deryn knew where that ballast came from—it was straight from the gastric channel, clart and all.
The civilians among them thought something had gone wrong. A squad of men in cricketing whites dropped their ropes and covered their heads, retreating from the unexpected rain of smelly water. The ship rose higher as their weight left the ropes, but Deryn saw the hydrogen sniffers on the ship’s topside going into a frenzy. The captain was also venting gas.
The ship steadied in the air.
Another spray of ballast came, heavier than the last. The proper ground men, who’d had clart hit their heads a hundred times, hung on. But in a few moments all the untrained men had abandoned their ropes.
“Very clever, your captain,” Dr. Barlow said.
“Nothing like a bit of muck to clear things out!” Deryn said happily, then added, “So to speak, ma’am.”
Dr. Barlow let out a laugh. “Indeed. I shall enjoy traveling with you, Mr. Sharp.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Deryn glanced at the lady boffin’s massive pile of luggage. “Perhaps you could mention that to the bosun. You see, the ship’s a wee bit over-weight.”
“I shall,” the woman said, taking back her beastie’s leash. “We’d like a little cabin boy all our own, wouldn’t we, Tazza?”
“Um, that’s not really what I …” Deryn blethered, starting to explain that midshipmen were officers, practically. They certainly weren’t cabin boys.
But Dr. Barlow was already leading her thylacine toward the airship, trailed by the other boffins and their mysterious box.
Deryn sighed. At least she’d earned her place aboard the Leviathan. And after his blunder with the ropes, that bum-rag Fitzroy might finally get what he deserved. Not bad for one day’s work.
Of course, now there was a fresh worry to ponder.
As another female, Dr. Barlow might notice a few odd things the other crewmen hadn’t. And she was a clever-boots, with all that science under her bowler. If anyone was going to guess Deryn’s little secret, it would be this lady boffin.
“Brilliant,” Deryn muttered, taking hold of the heavy trunk and hurrying for the ship.
SEVENTEEN
The land frigate stood atop a distant rise, its signal flags snapping in the breeze.
“That’s a bother,” Klopp said, lowering his field glasses. “She’s a thousand-tonner, Wotan class. A new experimental model. Small enough to make good speed; big enough to pound us into dust.”
Alek took the glasses from Klopp and raised them to his eyes
.
The Herkules wasn’t the largest landship they’d seen, but with its eight long legs—arranged like a spider’s—it did look nimble. The array of smokestacks suggested a powerful engine bank inside.
“What’s she doing here at the Swiss border?” Alek asked. “Isn’t there a war on?”
“One might think she was waiting for us,” Count Volger said.
“See that crow’s nest?” Klopp pointed at a tall mast rising from the frigate’s gun deck. Two tiny figures stood on the platform mounted at its top. “That lookout tower isn’t standard equipment.”
“And the lookouts are facing this way—into Austria,” Bauer said. The pilot’s cabin was crowded, the other three arranged around Alek like a family portrait. “I doubt they’re stationed here to protect us from invasion.”
“No, they’re here to keep us in,” Alek said, lowering the field glasses. “They knew we were headed to Switzerland, thanks to me.”
Count Volger shrugged. “Where else would we go?”
Alek supposed he was right. With the war spreading every day, Switzerland was the only country staying neutral—the last place for fugitives and deserters to hide.
But it still didn’t seem fair, running straight into this land frigate. They’d been weaving back and forth across Austria for more than a month— creeping through forests for a few hours every night. They’d been hunted, shot at, even dive-bombed by an aeroplane. They’d spent whole days scavenging parts and fuel from farm machines and junkyards, just enough to keep the Stormwalker running. And finally they’d reached a passage to safety, only to find it guarded by a giant metal spider.
It was certain the Herkules wasn’t going anywhere soon. A command tent was pitched under her engines, where a six-legged cargo walker waited to fetch supplies and fresh crew.
“How far are we from the border?” Alek asked.
“You’re looking at it, sir,” Bauer said, pointing past the frigate. “Those mountains are in Switzerland.”
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