Skyjackers: Episode 1: A Proper Nuisance (Skyjackers: Season One)

by Staudt, J. C.

“Everyone would’ve seen us leaving. Or at least realized we were gone much sooner.”

  Lily’s bottom lip began to quiver. Tears welled in her eyes. “It isn’t easy running away, is it?”

  “Here, have a hanky,” said Poleax. The yellowed strip of fabric he drew from his overcoat was damp in some places and crusty in others.

  Lily held it like a dead mouse. She liked Poleax, but the thought of having him to take care of her instead of Mum and Dad made her want to cry all the more. She found what appeared to be a clean section of fabric and dabbed at the corners of her eyes.

  “We can head back if you like,” said Poleax.

  She brightened. “Are you sure? It wouldn’t be too much trouble?”

  “We haven’t gone very far, you know. I can still see the roof of the house through the trees there.”

  Lily clapped her hands and hopped to her feet. “Oh yes, let’s.”

  Poleax raised a hand and signaled. “You heard the lady. Round about.”

  The porters sighed with relief as they turned back toward the mansion.

  ***

  Benedict and Junior were still in the mansion’s study, hashing out the details of the family’s next crime spree. It was not going well.

  “Because horses can’t swim, that’s why,” Caine shouted. “You know the old saying: you can lead a horse to water, but don’t let it sink? That applies to this situation implicitly.”

  Junior was confused. “Is that really how it goes?”

  “The Marquis of Bixbury values his prized studs above all else in the world. We’ll win a higher ransom for his stable than we would for his wife and children. He’ll never see us coming, and he’ll pay dearly for it.”

  “I don’t want them on the Stratustarian,” Junior said. “Transporting a herd of horses on an airship strikes me as treacherous.”

  “It isn’t a herd. It’s a small stable of purebred stallions. They’ll be no trouble at all. Anyway, you haven’t a choice in the matter.”

  “But they’ll… empty their bowels… everywhere.”

  “Not unlike that misfit crew of yours on an average day. You’ve got the biggest ship in the fleet for a reason, son. It holds the most excrement.”

  “What do horses eat, Father?”

  “How should I know? Do I look like a peasant farmer to you?”

  “Well, I’m going to find out and not give it to them.”

  “Those animals had better survive, Junior. If you bring home a stable of dead horses, every tiger in the jungle will be on us by teatime.”

  “What are we going to feed these horses if the Marquis doesn’t pay off right away?”

  “We’ve plenty of bananas. I’m sure they’ll get on.”

  Junior shrugged. He liked bananas. He didn’t see why horses shouldn’t like them too.

  Benedict heard a noise and perked his ear to listen. “What’s that racket out of doors? Sounds like a ship’s coming in.”

  Junior and his father left the study, hands to hilts, ready for anything.

  ***

  Jonathan, separated from his ship and abandoned by his crew, figured his best bet was to hike to the closest village and ask for help. He knocked on the first door he came to, a big crooked house that looked like it might fall over at any moment. A bald man with a crown of gray hair and a pair of magnifying lenses perched on his forehead opened the door. Gilbert Hill was startled to see Jonathan, decked out in the red-and-tan uniform of a sky marshal captain, and at first thought Vivian Caine had tricked him. He kept calm, cocked his head inquiringly, and waited for Jonathan to speak.

  “I apologize if I’m interrupting something,” Jonathan said, eyeing the lenses. “Do you, by any chance, have a bluewave radio I could use to make a call?”

  “Come in.”

  The floor sloped beneath Jonathan’s feet as Gilbert led him through cramped rooms packed with antique furniture and dead houseplants. The house smelled of old wood, and every surface Jonathan passed was layered in dust. Hill pointed to the radio, which was sitting on a round pedestal table in the parlor. He stood in the doorway with his arms clasped behind his back while Jonathan sat down and dialed.

  “Hello. Yes, Harlow? Harlow, it’s Jon—Captain Thorpe. Where in the blue blazes are you? Oh. He did, did he? Is that right? Well, tell him I’m in—” He put a hand over the receiver and asked Gilbert, “What town is this?”

  “Dower.”

  “I’m in Dower. I’m at the home of a nice gentleman who’s allowed me to use his radio. Tell Manchester to come pick me up at once. I’ll meet you in the town square. I don’t know. I’m assuming this town has a square. What was that? Yes, I was there. It was very frightening. I know. Yes, I know. We should. We’ll see, Harlow. Make sure Manchester gets my message. Thank you.” Jonathan hung up.

  “Was there anything else, officer?” Gilbert asked.

  “No. Thank you. I apologize if I’ve put you out.”

  Gilbert Hill said nothing.

  Jonathan stood. “I’ll just see myself out, then.”

  When Jonathan walked past him, Hill followed. He took a wrong turn and ended up in a sitting room, across the back half of which was drawn a heavy curtain. Something sparkled from within the cordoned area as it caught the sun. Jonathan turned to find Gilbert eyeing him.

  “Say, you wouldn’t happen to—”

  “Wrong way, officer,” said Gilbert. “This way to the door.”

  Suddenly, things began to register for Jonathan. “Now wait a minute. What have you got back there? You’re a tradesman of some sort, aren’t you?”

  “I collect rocks,” Gilbert said. “And I’m very private about my rock collection. I’ll warn you to step away from there, officer.”

  Jonathan flung the curtain aside. There on Gilbert’s workbench, spilling from a plain canvas sack, were the Finustrian crown jewels. “What in the name of heaven—”

  When Jonathan turned around, Gilbert Hill was pointing a flintlock pistol at him.

  “I did warn you.”

  “What do you mean to do with that?” Jonathan asked.

  “Whatever I have to, officer.”

  Jonathan could see he was serious. “Now, we’ve no need to go to extremes, my good man. And you don’t want to find yourself on the wrong end of a murder charge that could’ve been avoided.”

  “I paid good money for those,” Hill said. “They’re mine.”

  “They belong to the Archduchess of Finustria,” Jonathan corrected him. “Trafficking in stolen goods like these will get you in more trouble than you could ever ask for. So I’ll make you an offer. Lower your weapon and let me walk out of here with the jewels, and I’ll forget we ever met. No charges.”

  Hill tightened his grip. “How do I know that’s not a lie?”

  “I don’t even know your name,” Jonathan said. “Nor do you know mine, for that matter. We can part ways anonymously and forget this ever happened.”

  “You said your name on the radio earlier, Captain Thorpe,” Hill pointed out.

  “Ah, yes… but I still don’t know yours. If you kill me, plenty of people will learn it.”

  Hill thought for a moment, then lowered his weapon. “I spent nearly everything I had on those jewels.”

  Jonathan took a step toward them. When Hill didn’t object, he scooped the jewels into the bag and picked it up. “You can be sure the Regency would’ve confiscated that and more if you were found guilty. I have no say over what you do from now on, but I would advise you to cut ties with the Caines and any other such customers you may have. I’m working hard to bring the Caine family to justice.”

  Hill gave him a curious look. “You aren’t awfully familiar with the Caines, are you?”

  “Well enough to know they ought to be stopped.”

  “Then I wish you all the luck in the world. I reckon you’ll need every ounce of it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Not a reassurance,” Hill muttered.

  Jonathan glanced around. “Well…
I’ll take my leave then. Good day.”

  “Door’s that way.”

  “Yes. Right.”

  As soon as Jonathan was gone, Gilbert Hill went to the parlor and picked up the receiver on his bluewave radio.

  ***

  Vivian returned to the Caine mansion to find a band of pirates tromping home from the jungle. They were carrying bags, chests, and small cages stuffed with familiar cats. Lily and Poleax emerged from the jungle last, bringing up the rear of the column. Junior and Benedict came bursting through a side door in the house and rushed out to meet them.

  “What’s all this about?” Benedict asked.

  Lily shuffled past the others and ran to her father’s arms, sobbing incoherently.

  Benedict was puzzled. “Have you broken my child, Poleax? Explain yourself.”

  Lily broke in before Poleax could respond. “He tried to make me run away, Daddy.”

  “Why I—I did nothing of the sort,” Poleax stammered.

  “Yes you did. You said running away was the only thing to do.”

  “That was because you told me you didn’t want to be a pirate.”

  Benedict bristled. “I’ve never heard such a load of balderdash in all my life. Have I not treated you as a friend, Poleax? Have I not given you a prestigious command in my fleet?”

  “You have, Ben. I was only trying to—”

  “Then perhaps you ought to treat this family with a little more respect. It’s one thing for you to shun my dinner invitations. Poisoning my daughter against me is quite another. Come, Lily-Billy. Let’s take you inside and get you all cleaned up.” Benedict turned to Lily’s crew. “As for you lot, get this all back where it belongs. When you’ve done with that, swab the Swan’s Sorrow to a spit-shine and await my further beratement.”

  Benedict took Lily inside while her crew grunted their loads toward Mandrake Hollow, the massive canyon system where the Caines hid their airships between voyages. Cork Buffner came to stand beside Vivian, laden with the sack of gold chips from Mr. Hill.

  Junior eyed the sack and raised an eyebrow. “Is that all you got for the crown jewels?”

  “This is quite a few chips, thank you very much.”

  Junior waggled his head, unconvinced. He turned to Poleax, who was still standing there, dumbfounded. “Say, Uncle. You busy tonight?”

  “Well, I was going to—”

  “Right. That settles it, then. Dad wants you to smuggle a herd of stallions from Bixbury.”

  “A what? From where?”

  “Have the Hummingbird ready to lift off by sunset. I dare say you can’t afford to disappoint him again.” Junior followed his father and sister into the house.

  Mr. Buffner grunted, shifting the sack in his hands. “Where shall I set these down, Captain?”

  Vivian gave a disgusted sigh. “Clearly Father doesn’t care. Just dump them in the treasury.”

  Chapter 5

  Jonathan stood in the Dower village square beside a tall copper statue. He waited until his legs grew tired. When he saw no sign of ship or crew, he sat with his back to the statue’s stone pedestal, placed the bag holding the crown jewels between his legs, and watched the sun as it melted into the rooftops. A woman carrying a basket of bread stopped on her way home to offer him half a loaf. He ate it plain, down to the end, and tossed the crust to the birds crowding in the dusky trees.

  The stars were in full bloom by the time Jonathan heard heavy boots crunching over gravel behind him. He turned to see the silhouettes of Dean Manchester and Luke Bigsby, his quartermaster, approaching. Bigsby was a thick-bearded man, his head perpetually wrapped in a flight cap and goggles.

  “Captain?” said Manchester.

  Jonathan grunted to his feet. “Yes, Manchester. It’s me.”

  “Thank the heavens you aren’t dead, Captain.”

  “Why would I be dead?”

  “Do you know how many people have been captured by the Caines and lived to tell of it?”

  “How many?”

  “I’ll find you a mirror.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “The men been talking, Cap’n,” Bigsby said. “Word round the ship is you’re mad as a loose screw.”

  Let them talk, Jonathan thought. “Speaking of the Maelstrom… what took you so long?”

  “My apologies, Captain. Mr. Harlow couldn’t remember the name of the village you’d called from. We tried to ring back, but you’d gone.”

  “Dear gods, you mean I was almost stuck here indefinitely? How ever did you find me?”

  “Harlow remembered, sir.”

  Jonathan shook his head in disbelief. “We should get back. About time we made our triumphal return to Finustria.”

  “What’s in the sack?”

  Jonathan smiled. “Something that’s going to make the Admiral very happy.”

  ***

  Benedict surveyed the newly repainted Cloudhopper with pride. “We ready to lift off, then?”

  Junior stood at attention, fully dressed for adventure. “Sure are, Dad.”

  “Right then. Mr. Parsons, if you would be so kind as to tell Goodfellow he did an excellent job on my ship’s sign the second time round. Also, he’s fired, on account of the first time round.”

  “Yes, Commodore.” Parsons bowed and took his leave.

  Benedict heard the chugging of a steam engine above him and turned skyward. “Say, what’s the Hummingbird doing aflight? Poleax making off with another of my daughters? Disgusting creature.”

  “No, Dad. Actually, Uncle Poleax felt so bad about earlier, he offered to help with the horse-napping. Says he’ll transport the whole herd for us.”

  “I’ve told you, Poleax is not your—and it isn’t a herd, it’s a—never mind. Very well, just keep an eye on him. See that he doesn’t bugger off with the beasts while we’re looking the other way.”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  “You know what’s got my gut all a-tingle, June Bug?”

  “I’d rather not, Dad.”

  “Well it isn’t last night’s dinner, I’ll tell you that. It’s Poleax. He’s pickier than a one-fingered man with a sinus infection. Not only that… he runs that ship tighter than a porpoise’s blowhole. I don’t foresee him enjoying a deck full of sweaty four-legged breeders any more than you would have. What do you suppose he’s up to?”

  “I don’t think he’s up to anything,” Junior said with a shrug. “It was just very important to him that he make it up to you… that whole business with Lily.”

  “I’ll tell you,” Benedict said. “Why I allow a man like that to remain here and corrupt my children is beyond my reckoning.”

  “You wouldn’t find it a problem if one of us ever did decide we didn’t want to be a pirate. Would you, Dad?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Caine said. “All your sister Lily needs is a bit of toughening up. She’ll come round. Believe you me, son. Now let’s go hold a bunch of half-ton sperm factories for ransom, shall we? Remember to watch your altitude. You know what happens to airships that fly too close to the sun.”

  Father and son boarded their respective craft and lifted off into the night.

  ***

  Back at the mansion, Vivian went to Lily’s room for a sisterly heart-to-heart. Little did she know, she was about to find Lily’s heart emphatically disinterested.

  “What’s going on with you, Lil?” Vivian asked, taking a seat on the bed.

  Lily sniffled and covered up her flushed cheeks, then said something into the blankets.

  “What was that? I can’t hear you when you mumble like that.”

  “I said I want Mr. Mittens.”

  Vivian threw a disdainful glance at the fluffy gray cat prowling the dresser. Vivian had had it out with Lily’s cats on more than one occasion. Mr. Mittens, especially, adored Lily and hated every other human who came near him. He had that distinctive feline gaze—an almost predatory arrogance, which often gave Vivian the feeling that her size was the only thing keeping him from hun
ting her like a mouse.

  “That cat wants to eat me,” Vivian said.

  “Mr. Mittens is a nice cat. Stop saying mean things about him.”

  Vivian approached and made a cautious grab for the animal. Mr. Mittens bared his teeth in a violent hiss and slinked away from her, hopping first to Lily’s vanity, then to her bedside table.

  “There we are,” Lily said, lifting the covers to let the cat crawl inside. “See? He’s a friendly little fellow. Aren’t you, Mr. Mittens? Yes. That’s a good kitty.”

  Rather than sit on the bed again and bring herself nearer the creature, Vivian remained standing. “Now will you tell me what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” Lily said. “I’ve simply caught a touch of the malaria from being out of doors.”

  “You were a hundred yards from home. And you don’t catch a touch of malaria. It isn’t like the common cold.”

  “I wish you’d stop being so critical all the time.”

  Vivian tossed up her hands. “How rude of me to criticize you with facts.”

  “Junior told me you sold the crown jewels for a pittance. How’s that for criticism, Miss Perfect?”

  “I got rather a lot for them, I thought. And I managed to scare the daylights out of Captain Thorpe while I was at it.”

  “That bloody marshal is all you ever talk about anymore. You’ve really got a thing for him, haven’t you?”

  “For the love of—he’s the one who’s got a thing for us. I’m trying to protect this family from his meddling.”

  “Oh, yes, it’s all about you, isn’t it? I almost forgot I was the one nearly savaged by elephants in the depths of macaque-infested jungles today.”

  Mr. Mittens poked his head out from Lily’s covers and hissed at Vivian again.

  Vivian had had enough. “I’ve got to go, Lil. Feel better, will you?” She fled the room to the sound of her sister’s nasally voice.

  “Don’t think I didn’t notice the sarcasm in that…”

  ***

  Jonathan was in his cabin polishing the Archduchess’s tiara when Harlow came in.

  “Call for you on the bluewave,” Harlow said.

  “Who is it now? Mother? The Admiral?”

  “Neither, Cap’n. Fellow calls himself Atwell.”

  “Alex?”