The Airship Aurelia (The Aurelian Archives)

by Courtney Grace Powers

  Mordecai tipped an invisible hat at them and blew a smoke ring. “Just thought I ought’a let you know we were here before things got awkward.”

  Peeking out of the funnel, Gideon gave Reece a raised eyebrow look.

  “Me and Mordecai got the rudders fixed,” Po said quickly as Reece dropped her arms and took a too-casual step backward. “Aurelia's autopilot should work now.”

  “Good. That's good.” Bleeding bogrosh, but the engine room was warm of a sudden. “Er, Mordecai, Hayden will be looking for you. To take a look at your head.”

  “Meh, my head's fine. But you know, I have been havin' this weird double vision the last hour…maybe he can tell me somethin' about that.”

  Reece stared as the Pan scrambled across the ladder like a much younger man. With Mordecai, the only way to tell what was head trauma and what was the man's chronic craziness was to see if the thing could be cured.

  “Everyone,” Reece began as he backed towards the exit hatch, “be in the cargo bay at eighteen hundred hours for a crew debriefing. Po, keep in touch about the Sim. If you can slow the temperature drop—”

  Po cut him short by holding up her black-stained palms. “Leave it to me, Cap'n.”

  “What's eighteen hundred hours?” Gid asked from above.

  “Six o'clock.”

  Gideon muttered something in a low voice, and Reece testily called, “What?”

  “I said, so why didn't you just say that?”

  “It's air talk.” Another mutter-filled pause. “What was that?”

  “I said yeah, but we're in space.”

  “Just be there at six o'clock, Gid.”

  “Do we have to call it a crew debriefin'?” Po threw out as Reece finally began lowering himself through the hatch. He stopped to stare at her, but she was already scaling another ladder, on her way to join Gideon at the funnel, as quick and nimble as a mouse. Reece didn't envy her; Gid was looking as surly as a sliptooth fish. “It's such a mouthful. Hey, maybe we should call it a moot! Whadya think, Cap'n? Don't it have a ring to it? A crew moot.”

  “Ain't them one'a those things rich folk have around their houses?” Gid grumbled as he backed up, making room for her. “With the water, and the bridges?”

  “That's a moat, ginghoo,” Po laughed at the same time Reece dully corrected, “Moat, Gid.”

  Scowling, Gideon crossed his arms and sat down heavily on a rung, his big boots swinging. “Alright!” he snapped. “I ain't stupid!”

  Shaking his head wordlessly, Reece lowered himself through the hatch. The helm. He needed the helm, and the quietness of The Voice of Space. He'd been captain for officially—he checked his pocket watch—three hours, and between the possibility of freezing to death before tomorrow and living with the constant company of Scarlet Ashdown, his nerves were already starting to feel frayed. Gid's bad mood was trivial in comparison, but still, it grated.

  Nivy shot him a look over her shoulder as he joined her on the bridge again, but he slid into his leather chair without a hello. The Euclid Stream streaked against the canopy window, a soft vapor of white, giving the cockpit an airy glow.

  “Po fixed the autopilot,” he said as his hands slipped into the grooves of the yoke. “And we're calling the crew debriefing a moot.”

  Nivy stared at him like people tended to stare at Mordecai. He ignored her.

  VII

  Moots, Shrews, and Little Red Boots

  Hayden's feet left the floor as he leaned over the edge of the crate, his fingers scraping its bottom before catching the sleeve of the last coat. He gruntingly came upright and held the long leather duster up to the cargo bay light.

  “Mordecai?” he guessed.

  Mordecai, sitting on a stack of animal hide suitcases with his back against a packing crate, lazily nodded for Hayden to toss him the coat. Hayden let out a hard breath as he heaved it with some difficulty.

  “That's the last of it,” he announced, looking up at Reece.

  Reece had been silently watching him dole out everyone's luggage from the lowest bridge in the cargo bay, where he was a quick sprint away from the bridge. Now he slung his elbows over the steel railing and peered at the empty crates with a thoughtful frown.

  Hayden glanced over his shoulder at the others, who were staggered in a loose semicircle behind him. Po, perched cross-legged on her giant trunk, which was graffitied with colorful hand drawn pictures, was ogling Scarlet as she reviewed the packing ledgers on Hayden’s datascope. Every time Gideon's pacing shadow blocked her light, Scarlet’s mouth tightened irritably, but he was above noticing, walking the width of the cargo bay and back again, restlessly spinning his revolver. Nivy watched him from her corner of the hold, looking bored.

  “Alright,” Reece began, and Hayden jumped at the sudden loudness of his voice. “This is our first crew…moot.”

  “Moot?” Scarlet repeated without looking up from Hayden's golden datascope.

  “Ain't that a—”

  “No,” Gideon cut Mordecai short. “It ain't.”

  Without breaking stride, Reece continued, “Plan on being here at this hour every night for a debriefing. We're in the Euclid and on our way now, which means we’re not just a crew in name anymore. I mean for everyone to stay up on what the others are doing. Look out for each other.” Seeming to steel himself, he gestured stiffly at Scarlet. “And make her feel welcome. She's in charge of rations, so you want to be on her good side.”

  “Duly noted,” Mordecai said, winking at Scarlet. Scarlet's lips quirked, but Hayden wasn't sure whether she was smiling or trying not to grimace.

  “Hayden, did you get the infirmary set up?”

  “Yes. There's a well-lit room just off the galley that'll do. But hopefully we'll never have any need of it.”

  “Hopefully,” Reece agreed. “Can you get a copy of Aurelia's blueprints from Po and set about mapping out where everything is? Supplies, weapons, quarters. Hang it in the galley until everyone's comfortable with moving about alone.” Before Hayden could so much as nod again, he rolled on, pattering down the stairs as he spoke. Digging in his pocket, he pulled out a folded piece of parchment and thrust it into Scarlet's blank face. “Put this into the datascope.”

  Scarlet calmly took the parchment and smoothed it out over her lap with a little fold deepening between her eyebrows. “What is it?”

  “Chore list.”

  Gideon groaned loudly.

  “We've got three meals a day. We take shifts preparing the meals, and shifts cleaning up the mess. Nivy and Gideon are signed up to cover for me on the bridge when I need to sleep. Mordecai is down for helping Po in the engine room in the afternoons. Everyone gets a few free hours a day, and six to eight hours of sleep every night. Gid, take a seat.”

  Pausing midstride, Gideon stared glumly at Reece, his revolver still ticking in his hand. Seeming exasperated, Reece rolled his eyes and said, “I'm not trying to pick a fight—I just want you to sit down and listen for a minute. What's with you today?”

  Going red about the ears, Gideon dragged his feet into the ring of crewmembers and hesitantly sat on the stout black trunk that could only be his, since he was the only one who'd be able to lift it. Hayden quickly took the spot left between him and Po. The only other open seat was right next to Scarlet.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Reece sighed and squinted up at the ceiling of the cargo bay for a long moment, as if thinking over what to say. “You all know what happened back on Atlas,” he began quietly. “The Kreft attacked. A lot of us had…”

  Hayden's chest tightened at his unspoken words. Now that the adrenaline was leaving him, he could feel the emotions he’d been neglecting, and very keenly. Fear. Worry. Despair. The cargo bay suddenly felt dark and cold and big, an empty, echoing cavern around them.

  “I know I'm not the only one who left family behind,” Reece continued haltingly. “But The Kreft pursued us right into the Euclid. We have to believe that with Aurelia gone, their interest won't return to Honora.”
r />   Po's sniffle broke the silence; Hayden felt her arm trembling next to his, and glanced at her worriedly. Her lower lip was quivering. “I-I've got some news. Um. Mordecai…”

  First looking startled, then wary, the grizzled Pan leaned forward to study her face. “What is it, darlin'?”

  Po took a deep, rattling breath that drew up her shoulders, opened her mouth…and doubled over, sobbing. Her head came down on Hayden's shoulder. He looked to Reece for help, but Reece just spread his hands helplessly.

  “Oh, for pity's sake!” Scarlet snapped, hurrying over, the hem of her green skirt whistling over the dusty floor. She pushed Reece aside and shooed Hayden out of her way so she could slide into his place and fold Po into her arms, hushing her gently.

  Edging away from Scarlet and Po, Gideon said in a low voice, “Agnes is dead. Killed in the strike.”

  Hayden felt as if someone had dropped a bag of bricks onto his shoulders. He sagged. He'd never known Tutor Agnes that well, not like Reece and Po, and certainly not like Mordecai, but…

  “Bea,” Mordecai said under his breath, and shook his head sadly. He rubbed his mouth with a hand, stood, and started a turnabout the room, pacing like his grandson had. Gideon frowningly eyed his back.

  Bea. Of course Agnes hadn't been her first name. Hayden felt almost sick, thinking of the pretty old woman with her hair in a handkerchief, whose real name he'd never known, who was now dead. Who else might've been lost on Atlas they'd never know to miss? Father and Sophie had been underground. They had to be alright. They had to be.

  Po surfaced from Scarlet's arms with a gasp. “I'm s-so sorry. I-I would’a told you earlier, only I was…I was tryin' so hard not to think about it…and I forgot…”

  “It's alright, Po,” Reece said slowly, his forehead furrowed. “It wouldn't have changed anything, us knowing any sooner.”

  “She was a fine woman,” Mordecai said. The words had the sound of a eulogy. “A dirt fine woman.”

  After a moment of silence, Nivy rose from her corner and came to Reece, trying to motion discreetly. She rubbed her arms with her eyebrows raised. With a start of surprise, Hayden realized she was right…it was getting colder. The air in the cargo bay wasn't exactly wintry, but it felt like late fall, when he was used to wearing a jacket.

  “Look, everyone,” Reece began, glancing at Po, “we sustained some damage coming into the Euclid. I know you all know it by now, but you should know the details. The Bio-Conditions Simulator and the turbine…long story short, until we're able to bring one or both back online, the temperature is going to keep dropping in here.”

  “How fast is it dropping?” Scarlet and Hayden asked at the same time, and Hayden fought a self-conscious blush.

  Po gulped loudly, still breathing hard. “It was droppin’ eight degrees an hour. But I was able to reroute the Sim and trick it into stavin' off the heat loss, so we should have a few days before it gets real bad. But that only fixes one'a our problems. We can't just fly without a thermal turbine—it'll put too much strain on Aurelia’s other systems.”

  “Could we buy another?” Hayden asked.

  “Or steal one?” Gideon added.

  Hayden tightly repeated, “Or buy one?” and Gideon grinned wolfishly at him.

  “This ain't just any run-a-the-mill turbine you can pick up at the next junker planet,” Po told them. “So long as Aurelia's in the condition she's in, she'll eat through standard turbines like a fat man at a buffet.” She noticed Gideon staring at her, and went pink. “What? You ain't never heard that one before?”

  “Leto,” Reece suddenly announced, and everyone froze as if he'd uttered some magic word. “We're going to Leto. The Letoians bought Aurelia's original thermal turbine back when she was decommissioned. They're not far out from the Euclid, only three or four days from here. If we can make it that far, we can get Aurelia's turbine.”

  Scarlet gracefully rose, smoothing down her skirts. “Reece, are you sure? Leto?”

  “Positive. I know Leto's not exactly the civilized gem of the Epimetheus, but all we need is the turbine. We're in, we're out, and then it's to The Ice Ring.”

  “You make it sound so simple.”

  “It is simple. This is what you did all that research for, Scarlet. It's thanks to you we even know where the turbine is.”

  Scarlet sniffed and returned to her trunk without comment. She gave Mordecai, who was still pacing feverishly, a wide, courteous berth.

  Furtively eyeing her as though he wasn't convinced she was done making trouble—not that that was what she had been doing; Hayden was sure she meant well—Reece distractedly asked, “Any questions?”

  Gideon raised his hand with the revolver in it, its barrel pointed at the ceiling. “Whose turn is it to make dinner?”

  “I'll do it,” Mordecai offered, pausing when his pace brought him back to the semicircle. He put a foot up on a suitcase and draped his elbows over his knee. “Cookin' helps me think, helps me focus. I'd like that, right now. My brain's all abuzz.”

  Hayden guiltily caught himself before he could wince. He wasn't sure anything Mordecai cooked while upset would be safe to eat, let alone tasty. Gideon’s method of pouring beans right out of the can might have been preferable.

  “Well, that settles it,” Reece said, and Hayden felt a little better when he noticed his friend looked a little green. “I declare this moot adjourned.”

  Gideon labored Po’s trunk, which stretched his arms to their longest, sideways through the rollin' door she held back for him. Then he set it down with a thump and a grunt and a sigh for havin' it off his hands. The girl must'a packed all her wrenches in there, or maybe a whole second engine. If he hadn’t come across her groanin’ and tryin’ to shove the thing an inch at a time in the right direction, she wouldn’t’a gotten it here till next week sometime.

  He eyeballed the room doubtfully. Po called it the Head Mechanic's cabin, but it didn't look like any kind’a cabin to him. It was smaller than the crew quarters, but its ceilin' was a lot higher, and its door, if that's what you could call the foldin' screen'a thick tan fabric, was its whole fourth wall. So he guessed it was big—if you wanted to fold the screen back and open the room up to the Afterquin. The engine murmured and ticked not thirty feet away.

  Po squeezed around him and put her hands on her hips. “Could you put it up against that wall?” She pointed to the stretch'a bare white next to the bed, which hung from the ceilin' on four iron posters like a backward canopy.

  Gideon doubled over and pushed the trunk to the wall with his shoulder. “That good?”

  Po bit her bottom lip. “Maybe a little more to the right?”

  He pushed some more and gave her a flat look.

  “Perfect.”

  If she'd said anythin' else, he probably would’a started gettin' grumpy. As it was, he sat down on her bed with a grumble and stretched his back, watchin' as she threw back the lid'a the monstrous trunk. He wasn't surprised when stuff started immediately spillin' out, socks, a hairbrush, a book. He instinctively snapped out an arm and caught the circular picture frame on the verge’a tippin' to the floor, and without thinkin', glanced at it.

  Po was easy to pick outta the black and white kinetic still—the little girl with fair hair, freckles and dimples. It must'a been her parents she was posin' with. The woman was the kind'a old-fashioned beautiful that makes a man feel clumsy and tongue-tied, and she had her arms wrapped around the waist'a the square-jawed fellow carryin' little Po in one arm.

  Glancin' over at him as she rummaged through her things, Po saw the frame and smiled. “Those are my folks. Aren't they beautiful? Mum still looks the same. What?” She must'a seen his eyebrows go up in surprise.

  Gideon uncomfortably shrugged and handed her the frame. “Just thought your da was…you know. From the way you talked about him before.”

  “Oh.” Po went quiet, takin' the frame gently. Then she shut the trunk and propped the frame up on its end, at her bedside. “No, he's alive. He's just been
gone a while. He left Honora to find work. He always hated livin' in the Western End, you know. Wanted to find us somethin' better.”

  Somethin' rang in her voice—not quite a fib, but definitely a stretch'a the truth. “How long's he been gone?”

  Po's brown eyes looked him dead in the face, as serious as he'd ever seen them, as if darin' him to say more. “Five years.” When he just stared at her, she turned back to her pile’a things and picked out a book with a worn green cover that looked as though it'd been sewn back together more than once. She leaned it up against the frame like it was sacred or somethin'. Its embossed gold letterin' said somethin' about a shrew.

  Suddenly, Po sighed. She cringingly flung up a handful’a clothes and let them flop to the floor. “I should'a brought more clothes. I wasn't thinkin'.”

  “How many do you need?” Gideon asked skeptically. One pair'a pants and a few clean shirts could see him through the better part'a month.

  Po seemed to not have heard him; she was starin' at the sweater in her hands with glazed eyes. “Did you see how Scarlet was dressed? She's like a queen. And she's so graceful, too, don't you think? When she walks, it's like she's got wings on her feet.”

  Gideon snorted, and after a beat, Po laughed too. She pushed away the sweater, and Gideon thought she was done bein' awkward, until he stood to leave, and she jumped up and stopped him with an anxious, “Gideon?” He turned around with his hands in his pockets. “Do you think Scarlet's pretty?”

  Gideon scratched his head, thinkin' hard, not because he didn't know the answer right away, but because he wasn't sure how he should give it. If this had been Ariel's question and he'd answered wrong, she probably would've kicked his shins.

  “Uh, I guess. If you can get past how she holds her nose in the air like she's so bleedin' superior.”

  “That's not nice,” Po chided. “And Scarlet's not like that. She's real sweet.”