He glanced sideways at Nivy, doing a double take when he saw she'd drawn her Heron gun. She handed it to him without explanation, and he took it dumbly and turned it over in his hands. It fit nicely, the smooth, curved grip nestling in the groove of his palm. His eyes lingered briefly on the front sight on the barrel, overlarge and peculiar. He'd always thought the gun had resembled a—
Nivy tapped his arm and nodded at the flightpanel. He gazed over it blankly for a moment before he saw what she was nodding at: a small hole behind the yoke shaped almost like an apple, an oblong circle with a stem coming off it. Reece had thought one of Aurelia's sold parts had once sat there, an atmospheric gauge or a pressure-ometer. With the gun in his hand, he suddenly knew exactly what it was. A keyhole.
He leaned forward, turned the gun up on its barrel, and plugged it into the hole so its front sight fit the stem of the apple-shape. The gun clicked into place.
And Aurelia roared with power, roared like two waterfalls combined. Reece's head jerked back against his seat, but he couldn't help laughing. So this was why the gun was so bleeding important—Nivy could never have returned The Aurelia to her people without it! And as for The Kreft…Reece rather liked the thought of them sitting keyless on the bridge, staring blankly at one another and scratching their ugly white heads.
The lights on the bridge faded out, and the colorful buttons and gadgets strewn over the flightpanel began glowing. Steam hissed through a pipe by Reece's elbow, and a puff of it gasped over his head, wetting his hair.
“Oxygen lockdown in four seconds,” Reece said as he thumbed a square orange button. “Sealing the bridge.” He grabbed the speaker com on the curly-cue wire dangling over his head and pulled it down to his mouth. “Mordecai, any sign of Gid and Po?”
He waited, listening through the headset. Static. Ever since that fateful day he had crashed his Nyad, static had made him nervous, made him feel like something bad was about to happen. Captains were allowed their superstitions too.
“Mordecai?”
No answer, but Aurelia was running, and that meant Mordecai had at least prepped the engine for take-off. It was probably some small communication glitch Po could fix in a blink once she got here. If she got here.
Five minutes and counting.
V
The Cost of Doing Something Great
Six miles in ten minutes should'a been easy on a bim. Gideon hadn't counted on gettin' to The Owl's docks and findin' what he did.
His rear tire squealed as he peeled around a corner and onto the pebbled drive leadin' to the docks. Airships’a every size and kind sat against a wall’a towerin' evergreens like prize antlered horses ready to race, but the docks were empty except for where a small crowd had gathered around a sleek gold Nyad that sat crookedly, leanin' on one’a its wings.
Downshiftin', Gideon swung the bim off-road and pushed it through the snow so it fountained around his spinnin' wheels. A few in the crowd pulled away to look back at him—they were mechanic students, he recognized their jumpsuits—and through the gap in their ranks he saw a pale blonde head lyin' on the ground.
Somethin' jumped inside’a him. Leanin' the bim up against a tree, he rushed forward with a growl for anyone who tried to keep him back.
It was Po, alright, but a quick scan showed she was fine, or as fine as could be expected. She was stretched over Tutor Agnes, cryin'. Agnes's blue eyes stared up at the golden wing as if she was inspectin' it, and they were glazed with death. Gideon couldn't see her wound, but the snow around her middle was stained a sparklin' red, like a spurt'a rubies.
“What happened?” he asked Tilden, who was standin' off to one side, wringin' a cap in his hands.
The freckled Trimble shook his head. “We were loadin' the ship for inspection when everythin' started. There was a flash'a light…the Nyad slipped, and the chains broke. She got pinned under the wing. Died right away.”
People said that expectin' it to make everythin' better. It didn't, Gideon knew for a fact. In the end…someone was still dead.
Hesitatin', he crouched down beside Po, almost touchin’ her arm. “Po Girl, we gotta go. Cap'n and the others are waitin' at the museum. If we ain't there in five minutes, they're leavin' without us.”
Snifflin', Po leaned up. She dragged her sleeve over her reddened nose and looked at him. “She was a good person. Maybe the best I knew. I can't believe…she was just standin' there. I saw her. She was fine. And then…and then she wasn't.”
“We'll take care’a her, Po,” Gus promised, leanin' out from behind his thickset brother.
Po drew a shaky breath and accepted Tilden’s hand up. “Alright, then. Guess I…gotta keep this short. Tilden, Gus…just…just take care’a yourselves. And don't work on that Flutterbee till I get back.”
She hugged them both briefly, her shoulders shakin', and let Gideon lead her back to the bim at a jog. She settled down behind him on the bim and immediately locked her arms around him so tight he had to cough.
“Sorry,” she apologized as they took off through the snow. “I ain't used to engines that don't come with a set’a w-wings.” She sniffed, and he could feel the heat in her face as she rested it against his back. The girl had just seen death, maybe for the first time. She would have a hard time forgettin' it. It stained the mind like blood stained hands.
Gideon grunted, “Just hang on.”
Po gasped as he shifted into a higher gear and swerved recklessly between people, wreckage, and automobiles stopped mid-journey. Campus smeared by them. That wicked black ship seemed to leer down at The Owl, firin’ more frequently, like it knew its every shot chiseled away at their chances.
The museum suddenly reared up between two distant brick buildings, a giant glass bulb. Gideon gathered up a silent mental scream’a willpower and unleashed it at his bim, beggin' it just to go a little farther, a little faster…
He felt it in the road a split second before the bomb hit—a ripple, like a small wave precedin' a breaker. The buildin' to their right burst apart in a blast’a angry fire. Bricks and debris dropped as if from an avalanche in the sky. Po screamed, and Gideon barely dodged a slab’a wall landin’ in the road before them, veerin' onto the pedestrian walkway between lampposts and benches. Flecks’a rubble carried in a rush'a hot hair sprayed them, stung them.
They had dodged the blast this time, but he had a gut feelin' this was just the first’a the rain. Luckily, the museum was only a few blocks away, and by the looks’a it, Reece hadn't left yet.
Right on cue, the face’a the museum exploded outward in a million tiny pieces’a broken glass. Gideon braked with a curse, his rear tire fishtailin', and stopped the bim from tippin' by plantin' a leg. Po clung to him so tight, he should'a been able to feel his ribs nudgin' his backbone.
Much as this wasn't the time to sit and stare like a ginghoo, Gideon couldn't make himself move for watchin’ The Aurelia crawl outta the broken dome like a hibernatin' monster leavin' her cave, his hand raised against the whirlin’ dust and snow. The ship revolved quietly in the air, the air at her aft ripplin' with heat. Campus had never looked so small before.
“No matter what happens after this,” Po said quietly. “We've done somethin' great. Just look at her.”
Gideon was lookin'. Right at the rear cargo hatch that was turnin' to face them. It hung open, its ramp danglin' over the empty street. Whether by design or because Mordecai couldn't figure out how to close the back door, that open hatch was their ticket on board. Gideon revved the bim and twisted back on the gas, and the bim violently jumped forward.
“What are you doin’?” Po squealed. “We'll never make the hatch!”
Another buildin' erupted behind them. Gideon lurched away from the hailstorm’a rubble, the sweat on his face burnin' in the cold. “We'll make it.”
And it seemed like they would, for a minute.
“Gideon, the ship—it's gettin' further away! They're leavin'! They're leavin' us!”
Level though the ship was with the roa
d, it was started rollin’ forward, its wings knockin' lampposts and trees hither and thither. The metal ramp sparked and scraped against the road, whinin'. It seemed Reece was outta time.
“We'll make it,” Gideon said again, leanin' over his handlebars. Po dug her face into his coat and didn't reemerge.
They came up on the ship, drivin' only a little faster than it was flyin'. The ramp bounced and jerked treacherously. Shiftin' one last time, Gideon pulled back on the gas with all his might and forced the handlebars steady. The bim zipped up the ramp, and they squeezed through the hatch, their elbows and knees within a few meager inches’a the metal doorframe. Instantly, Gideon downshifted and braked. The bim spun out its momentum in two complete circles before it careened to a stop against the wall, puttered, and died.
Po immediately jumped off the bim, stumbled, and threw herself against a lever on the wall only to drop her knees as she pulled it down. The ramp folded up and the hatch slammed shut.
Someone overhead groaned. Gideon looked up from lockin' his bim down beside Reece's and felt his stomach squeeze. Mordecai was layin' face-down on one’a the mesh bridges, his hand swingin' limply to the fitful jerkin'a the airship. Takin' the stairs to the bridge three a time, Gideon knelt beside his grandfather and rolled him over carefully.
Mordecai opened an eye; the other was swollen shut. “Bleedin' bogrosh,” he muttered. “I got a headache the size’a the sun.”
Gideon leaned back on his haunches and let out a breath. “What happened?”
“Not a clue. You couldn't'a been gone more than a few minutes when somethin' or someone clubbed me on the back’a the skull.”
“Someone?” Gideon repeated, hand goin' to his holster.
Mordecai leaned up and shrugged. Aurelia jumped, and the bridge trembled noisily. “Might'a been tumblin' cargo.”
Glarin' over the edge’a the bridge, Gideon frowned. There wasn't much cargo to speak of that wasn't locked up tight in the crates, and it wasn't like any’a those were small enough to just knock a man unconscious.
Suddenly, Reece's voice buzzed through the cargo bay, distorted by echoes. “Mordecai, if you can hear me, get locked down now!”
Gideon jumped to his feet and thundered back down the rickety stairs with Mordecai in tow. Po was already at the log interface in the corner, puttin' a square speaker com up to her mouth.
“Cap'n, it's Po! We made it!”
After a pause, Reece's tense voice came back, “Well buckle the bogrosh up! I'm having trouble with the levelers sticking…this is going to be rough!”
Po sharply turned in the direction’a the Afterquin. “I can fix that, Cap'n, just give me forty seconds to—”
The world seemed to rip apart. There was roarin', screamin', and crashin', and all the lights went black. Gideon couldn't make sense’a anythin'. The floor had dropped out from under him, and he was flyin' but fallin', upside-down or right-side-up, he couldn't tell. Then he landed on his side, hard, his revolver pokin' his hip like a fat metal finger. Somethin' brushed by him, and thinkin' he felt the warmth of another body, he flailed and found Po's wrist.
She squeaked, “It feels like the generated gravity projector is fluctuatin'…we gotta get into seats!”
“Here!” Mordecai's voice scraped from the darkness. “I've found 'em! Follow my voice!”
Gideon and Po, unsteady in the disorientin' darkness, clambered after the sound’a Mordecai's echoes till their knees nudged the seats set in a cove cut outta the cargo bay wall. Gideon batted at the darkness and came up with a handful’a tangled safety gear. He thudded into the seat beside Po and stretched the harness over his chest, bucklin' it with some difficulty.
Not a second later, Aurelia took off. Really took off. Gideon's stomach got left behind by the sudden jolt’a the airship shootin' forward and upward. His face felt like it was meltin'; the gravity pushin' down against him glued the flats’a his boots to the ground. Po whimpered, and even that was riddled with vibrato, though the shushin' sound’a steam soon drowned her out.
After about a full minute, the pressure dissolved. Gideon was left with only a too-light feelin', as if some’a him really had been left behind. He realized belatedly he was pantin', and swallowed. He could feel the swallow in his ears.
With a whirr’a energy, the lights in the cargo bay sputtered on.
“Not so fast, Po Girl,” Mordecai said softly, stoppin’ Po as she started undoin’ her safety gear. “Just wait.”
Gideon looked at him sharply, unsure what to make’a the old man's expression. He'd call it wary, only it kinda looked like he was rememberin' somethin’…like he'd done this before and didn't like what he knew to expect.
Leanin' across Po, who squeezed herself back into her seat, Gideon demanded, “What?”
Mordecai's eyes locked onto his and held them without blinkin', and Gideon flinched. With his eyes all cold and serious, he looked like Micajah, Gideon's da.
“I've gotta feelin',” Mordecai said.
Gideon clenched his jaw.
Tsssshhhh, static echoed over the com system, and he, Po, and Mordecai looked up as one at the sound that sounded like heavy breathin'. The auxiliary lightin' fitfully flickered as the ship gave a violent shiver. Several somethin's drummed against the hull in quick, violent succession.
“What's goin' on out there?” Po wondered in a whisper, huddlin' in on herself, as if she'd gone cold.
“Think they'd let us get away that easy?” Mordecai asked dryly. “This is war, now. War's never easy.”
Po exclaimed, “They're firin' on us?” and moved again to unbuckle herself, but Gideon trapped her hands together. She looked down at them, exasperated. “What if they knock out our life support? Our thrusters? Reece needs me in there!”
Suddenly annoyed, Gideon snapped, “Cap'n won't be happy if we get you blown up this early on. Could you give it an hour, at least?”
With a scowl, Po crossed her arms and looked away, mutterin' somethin' he was probably better off not hearin'.
The deep bass drummin' against the hull went on, like The Kreft were knockin' to get in.
VI
Problems with Pudding
The Voice of Space. The thick, velvet blackness between stars that stretched infinitely, dark and beautiful. Reece stared out the canopy window at it, and more than anything, was struck by how quiet it was. Not quiet like he'd known on Honora. There was no buzz of photon energy here, no distant grumblings of locomotives, automobiles, or airships. And the silence wasn't muffled; it was crisp, sharp, clean. It felt weighty and vast and frightening.
Thump thump, Nivy tapped her mouthpiece, grinning at him.
He grinned back wordlessly and set to adjusting their course. The Euclid Stream was on the other side of Nix, not a stone's throw away, by space travel standards. The green moon slid across the canopy window as Reece eased the yoke to starboard, and the stars far out in space appeared to reorient their positions around Aurelia, spinning away from her.
They were on their way.
An alarm started tweeting in Reece's ear, and he winced at both the noise and what it meant. That was a proximity alert. They weren't alone. A quick glance at the green graph radar showed a worrisome blip heading their way, and fast.
“They're following us. Good.” Nivy looked at him as if wondering whether or not he'd been throwing back shots of burnthroat when she wasn't watching, and he explained, “They would've torn Atlas and Honora to shreds looking for Aurelia. This is better.”
Aurelia's hull rumbled as something impacted the port side of the ship.
“That was a warning volley,” Reece growled, pumping the bar across his feet. Aurelia responded; steam coughed through the pipes overhead, a rush of moist air. “They want Aurelia whole.”
Thump, Nivy tapped, affirmative. Then she pointed, and a second later the tip of the long black vessel Reece had seen over Atlas nosed into view, blocking them from the Euclid Stream. In the soft green glow of Nix, the ship looked to Reece like half of a
black pinecone, spiked, ridged, and nasty on its topside, smooth and flat on its belly.
Snapping her fingers to get his attention, Nivy nodded at a blue button that had lit up on the com box near Reece's ear—the button that meant the com was receiving an outside log. The Kreft were hailing them. He stared at the button for a moment, contemplating.
“Nivy, open up a log wave. Please.”
Nivy shot him another look and then toggled a few switches that initiated a burst of static. Air silence. Reece said nothing, waiting, his hands sweating on the yoke, and imagined that the muffled crackling coming through the com could almost be alien whispers…
He kicked down on the leveler rod at the same time he jerked the yoke up to his chest, and Aurelia exploded forward, right at The Kreft ship. The com cut out with a sharp pop, but not before it relayed one last satisfyingly surprised crackle, and something like a growled shout. Reece wasn't much of a tactical flyer…he flew by instinct, followed what felt right. But there was one good old-fashioned tactic he'd be loath to ignore, and that was the element of surprise.
Aurelia was barreling towards The Kreft so fast the black ship had already doubled in size in the canopy window. The Kreft started to turn to avoid the collision, but Reece kept bearing down on their position, coaxing more and more speed out of the reluctant Afterquin.
It was close, and Reece would never have tried it if he wasn't sure The Kreft were desperate to salvage Aurelia. But as the spiked black ship put on a burst of speed and veered wildly to the right, Reece rolled Aurelia hard to left so she tipped up her starboard wing. The two ships skated narrowly by each other, belly to belly, and Aurelia zipped along the length of the enemy ship and sped on towards freedom. The Euclid Stream, misty and nebulous, running in a vertical slant like a slash across the black of space, glittered in welcome.
Reece blew out a breath that turned into a laugh. Grinning, he glanced at Nivy, who looked downright grim. He cleared his throat. “I realize this might not be the time or place, but you should know…that aerobatic maneuver is extremely difficult to execute.” He broke off to frown down at the graph radar, which was twittering like an angry bluebird, and cursed as he realized—
The Airship Aurelia (The Aurelian Archives) Page 7
