Ladies' Day

by Steve Turnbull

  Ladies' Day

  Frozen Beauty, Volume 2

  Steve Turnbull

  Published by Tau Press Ltd, 2017.

  Frozen Beauty: Ladies’ Day by Steve Turnbull

  Copyright © 2014, 2015, 2017 Steve Turnbull. All rights reserved.

  ISBN 978-1-910342-15-2

  This novella is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book shall be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information retrieval system without permission of the publisher.

  Published by Tau Press Ltd.

  Cover art by Steven Novak (novakillustration.com)

  from original designs by Emily Brand (emilybranddesigns.com)

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Ladies' Day (Frozen Beauty, #2)

  i

  ii

  iii

  iv

  v

  vi

  vii

  viii

  ix

  x

  xi

  xii

  xiii

  xiv

  xv

  xvi

  xvii

  xviii

  xix

  xx

  About the Author

  For the Birmingham Ladies.

  i

  Captain Qi Zang clawed her way from the trapdoor onto the upper deck of the Frozen Beauty. Rain lashed her and she was soaked before she was even halfway out. The wind ripped the trapdoor from her fingers and slammed it flat against the deck.

  Being on the ship in a rain storm was uncanny. The Faraday device had the strangest effect on rain, causing it to fall at a fraction of its usual speed. But it had no effect on the wind. So the gale still drove the rain which, with almost no inclination to fall, came from the side. Where it landed, it collected in huge, slow-moving globules.

  The whole ship swung to port as a gust caught it. She was glad she couldn’t see far. It was early evening and, by rights, the sun should have been lighting up the pass that would guide them into Kerala. Monsoon hadn’t started yet but this storm wasn’t waiting.

  The winds built up across the Indian Ocean and picked up their water. They hit the mountains on this side of the Indian sub-continent and dropped that moisture. On most days it was just rain. This time the gods had decided to battle it out around them.

  She pulled herself up and allowed her weight to carry her to the central superstructure across the tilting deck before the wind decided to slam the trapdoor back on her. With one hand gripping the edge of the balloon shed, she reached down and pulled the trapdoor up and over. The wind caught it again but she hung on, then slid the latch into place.

  The deck swung back and she clung on to stop herself from falling toward the rail. She had given orders to Dingbang to keep them running along the centre of the valley. She wanted more height. They were below the level of the mountains and risked running straight into a cliff, but Remy wasn’t answering the whistle of the communications tube.

  Otto had offered to go instead of her, as had Fanning, but Otto was too young to know what to do if Remy was in trouble, and Fanning was just a girl. Even if she thought she was a boy.

  Besides it was her ship and if anyone was going to deal with the possibility that Remy was hurt, dead or simply lost overboard—which meant dead—it would be her.

  She staggered along the wall of the balloon shed. The Beauty swung again, caught her off balance and slammed her into the wall. She swung round the corner into the relative calm between the shed and the smoke-stack housing. She cursed in Mandarin.

  “That is not very ladylike, Madame Capitaine,” drawled Remy Darras. He was wearing wet weather gear: a big oiled cape and a sou’wester. For once he did not look every inch a French gentleman as he usually did.

  “We need more altitude,” she shouted. The whole ship lit up in black and white relief from a flash of lightning. The thunder rolled over them like gigantic wave.

  She thanked whatever gods were listening that she had taken on Remy Darras and accepted his advice to switch from hydrogen to hot air. In a thunderstorm the lightning could make a hydrogen balloon explode. The Beauty would be the only ship in the sky at a time like this—which was a small mercy—except for perhaps one of the British ships that didn’t use balloons at all.

  She pointed upwards. “More height, Monsieur Darras!”

  “Oui, madame!”

  He pulled open the door to his shack and allowed the swing of the ship to carry him inside. Qi followed him in and shut the door. The noise of the wind screaming through the rigging did not diminish, but the driven rain was held at bay.

  The ship surged upwards and they both staggered. She hoped it was just a random updraft and did not indicate they were closer to a cliff. She glanced at the seven sets of dials that showed the pressure of the Beauty’s seven balloon envelopes. The needles oscillated wildly as the balloons were buffeted by the wind. She could even follow a gust as it hit the balloons one after the other, twitching the needles as it travelled the length of the ship.

  White light burst round the edges of the door and through the windows and cracks in the ceiling, the needle on the dial monitoring the second balloon from the end suddenly flopped over to zero, the ship lurched and Qi felt lighter than usual.

  “Mon dieu,” cried Remy and leapt to the valves on the steam pipes. He spun the one under the zeroed dial. The two of them froze as they listened to the super-heated steam screaming through the pipe. The dial did not even flutter.

  “Close that, open others,” shouted Qi, and she leapt for the valve nearest her. Remy spun the other back and closed it off as she got the first open and started on its neighbour.

  “Not too much pressure, Capitaine, they will rupture. I will do it!”

  Qi paused. Remy knew his equipment better than she. She headed out and clambered back towards the trapdoor. A wall of rock loomed up on the left, less than fifty yards away. An abrupt gust tossed them towards it. She saw the port thruster spinning to push them away from the cliff. Its efforts were almost useless against the raging storm until an updraft lifted the prow and turned the ship away.

  It could easily have gone the other way.

  She managed to get the trapdoor up, squeezed down until her feet reached touched the ladder, then slipped and fell the rest of the way. Under reduced gravity she sustained only a bruised elbow and slightly damaged pride.

  She had not had a chance to latch the trapdoor; the wind flung it open, letting in the storm and a unhurried flurry of icy water. She headed forward and slammed open the door to the bridge.

  Ding wrestled with the helm, with Fanning helping him hold the wheel. Mrs Cameron and Otto were nowhere to be seen. Qi strode forward.

  “I’ll take the helm,” she ordered as another lightning flash streaked down near them and thunder exploded. Fanning continued to cling to the helm as if her life depended on it. Perhaps it did. Ding stepped to one side to allow Qi space to take the wheel, but he too continued to hold it even when she placed both hands on it.

  “What happened?” said Ding.

  Qi glanced round. Mrs Cameron was on the floor tending to Otto, who looked to be unconscious.

  “One of the envelopes ruptured. We’re going down.”

  ii

  Qi, with Fanning in tow, walked away from where the Beauty lay. They clambered over rocks that had tumbled from the mountainside above them at some distant time in the past, now overgrown with moss and ferns. The sky was filled with brok
en clouds being driven north by a wind that could not be felt at ground level.

  The sun was high. The storm had raged the rest of the night, long after they had come down hard. The moment they had touched down Qi disengaged the Faraday device to ensure they stayed put. Remy had vented all the hot air and, with the help of the crew, pulled in the deflated balloons as best he could. They had lashed them down but there was always the risk of the wind getting into them.

  The crew had suffered through the rest of the night. Otto had regained consciousness and Mrs Cameron had moved him to his cabin where she stayed with him until daybreak. Whether the others had slept Qi did not know for sure. She had not. The fear the winds might rip the balloons to shreds preyed on her mind. If they could not be reinflated the Beauty would be stranded.

  Remy and Terry Montgomery were in the process of checking the integrity of each of the balloon envelopes with Ichiro assisting.

  Qi continued higher. It had been many years since she had climbed on rocks. Back at school in China, the nuns had had very strong ideas about what was proper behaviour for boys and girls. If a boy had a scraped knee it might be overlooked, and he might get away with a scolding. But if a girl should have a scraped knee? That was a caning offence. Young ladies did not do things that might result in their knees being scraped.

  But Qi had done so. The Roman Catholic school had been built just outside the town, and there were hills to be climbed on both sides beyond the rice terraces. Her father was gone for months at a time, and she had to fend for herself. Sometimes—often—that meant fighting.

  Her foot slipped on some moss, and she was brought back to the world with a jolt. She glanced around and decided she was high enough. Fanning was a few yards below, still climbing.

  Qi turned to survey the scene and get some idea of where they were. Back the way they had come the valley twisted back and forth, gaining height fast. The terrain was uneven and strewn with huge rocks. If they had hit the deck any sooner, Beauty’s back would have been broken.

  As it was, the ship rested on a flat swampy space where the river had burst its banks and occupied the small shelf area. It was far too close to the edge that dropped a further hundred or more feet to the valley below. All around them were the mountains that bordered the northern and eastern regions of Kerala. They did not even come close to rivalling the Himalayas, but they were tall enough to present a major barrier to travel—and to shelter less savoury individuals.

  She could see Remy and the others at work on the top deck. And, as she watched, Beatrice Cameron—in full dress with a parasol—stepped delicately down the cargo ramp and picked her way across the stones, avoiding the water.

  She looked completely out of place.

  Qi pulled out her telescope and surveyed the lower valley. A track threaded its way between rice fields. There were shacks here and there, but these would not be for families. They were only temporary shelters for those working out in the paddies, where even now people were moving around. Around the borders of the paddies were fields with different crops, which she could not name at this distance.

  Her attention was attracted by a line of rising smoke that had not been there a moment before. Along the track from the southeast came a puffing steam engine of some sort. She trained her telescope on it. She was not familiar with the design, but the artillery piece mounted above heavy duty tracks identified its purpose.

  Moving along behind was a squad of infantry, in the khaki uniforms the British Army had adopted in recent years.

  There was only one reason for it to be out here, and Beauty was that reason. The locals would immediately send for assistance if something they did not understand came their way.

  Fanning had just reached her and was staring in the same direction.

  “Let’s go,” said Qi. “We need to stop them before they get itchy trigger fingers.” She would have been happy to dodge their gun if Beauty had been airworthy, but right now she was a sitting duck. She guessed they had about thirty minutes, as long as these men were sufficiently intelligent to ask questions first.

  With Fanning behind her, Qi jumped from stone to stone in her hurry to get down. Once she reached level ground she set off at a jog back to the ship. Mrs Cameron was standing at the edge of the drop-off looking out towards their welcoming committee.

  As she approached she saw Ding and Terry mounting the flag mast on the front of the Beauty. There was generally no need to have the mast erected, but it was kept for tradition.

  She left Fanning to fetch Mrs Cameron and climbed a ladder mounted on the outside of the ship, then rushed across the deck as the mast was being lashed in position. The flag locker had been dragged up on deck. She threw it open and sorted quickly through the contents. The inside lid of the locker displayed a key showing their meanings, but those maritime meanings had not been updated for flying vessels.

  She pulled out the red diamond on the white background and threw it to Ding. He pulled it open and stared at it.

  “I am disabled; communicate with me,” said Qi. Ding nodded, attached it to the line, and then rapidly pulled it into the air. There was sufficient wind to make it flap limply.

  At that moment something whistled overhead and exploded into the rocks behind them. A thunderous roar filled the air, and bits of stone rained down on them.

  Qi dived for cover, hoping none of the envelopes would be damaged.

  iii

  She had the idea that the steering thruster was running out of control because her ears were filled with a high-pitched whine. She lifted her head from the rocks. A pall of smoke and rock dust drifted across the tumbled stones on the slope. She coughed into the dry air.

  The cough sounded strangely distant and she realised the whining was only in her ears. She brushed her hair back from her face and looked towards the approaching artillery car. It had not fired again. Perhaps the soldiers did not understand nautical flags. Why should they.

  There was a movement down the slope from her; she saw Fanning pushing herself up from the rocks. Qi stumbled down the hill.

  “Are you all right?”

  Fanning looked up and grinned. “Sure packed a punch.” She was almost shouting. “You okay, Cap?”

  Fanning reached out and touched her cheek. Qi was confused; it was such an intimate action, in the wrong time and place. But when Fanning withdrew her hand it glistened with red. “Best come down and let the lady take a look at it.” She wiped her hand on a dusty white kerchief she pulled from a pocket and held out her hand.

  It was crazy the way the young girl took charge like a man, but it made climbing down off the stones easier.

  Before they hit the level Qi stopped again and looked out across the valley. The column of men, cavalry and artillery was still moving in their direction but the muzzle of the big gun was no longer pointed in their direction.

  * * * * *

  “What’s the situation, Remy?”

  “It is not good, Capitaine,” the Frenchman said. Qi had never seen him looking so dirty and tired; he usually took so much pride in his appearance. Behind him the bulk of Ichiro contrasted with the thin frame of Terry Montgomery but both of them looked concerned.

  Qi hissed and pulled back, as Mrs Cameron applied some stinging unguent to the cut that marked her face from her right ear and across her cheek.

  “You’ll have a scar if you don’t let me do this, Captain.”

  She sounded like Sister Mary Therese, who had been in charge of the school infirmary. A lifetime of instant obedience made Qi settle and allow the woman, who was no older than she, have her way. Whatever the stuff was, it stung badly. Still, Mrs Cameron was more delicate than Dingbang.

  Qi turned her attention back to Remy. “What do you need to get us back in the air?”

  “You come with me.” Remy offered his hand to help her up

  “Stay right where you are, I haven’t finished,” said Mrs Cameron. Remy dropped his hand. “Another minute, Captain.”

  The woman began to
clean her face with a damp cloth. Qi frowned and then winced as the cloth pulled at something embedded in her skin. Mrs Cameron pulled out a pair of tweezers and pried loose a sliver of metal that had penetrated a layer of skin. The place immediately stung and Qi internally cursed the perversity of bodies. Qi sat obedient and still as Mrs Cameron cleaned the rest of her face. No more shards were found.

  Ding had been standing on the drop-off into the valley, watching the approaching column. He turned from the edge and made his way across the stones to the group.

  “Five minutes, riders come,” he said.

  A sigh escaped Qi’s lips and she looked at the expectant faces of her crew. “Fanning, you go with Remy. Make a list of everything we need to get Beauty aloft. Ding, take Ichiro and greet them as far down the track as you can.”

  “We will be weaponless, mèimei,” said Ding, looking down at her. He only called her ‘little sister’ when he was worried.

  “What choice do we have, old man? Bring them up slowly if you can, and I will meet the welcoming committee.” Ding gave a short bow and headed off, pausing only to gather up Ichiro, who loomed behind him, as they headed off round the other side of the ship.

  She turned to Mrs Cameron. “How do I look?”

  The woman sniffed. “Damaged. Untidy. Dirty. Your hair needs doing, and”—she paused as if deciding how to say something—“you’ve been wearing the same clothes since we left Delhi. Two days.”

  “You mean I smell?”

  “It wouldn’t be polite to say.”

  “Calling me dirty is polite?”

  The woman shrugged and smiled. She climbed to her feet and offered her hand to help Qi up. Qi accepted the assistance. Her muscles were stiff from sitting. It wasn’t just that she’d been in the same clothes for two days. She’d barely slept, and meals had been irregular.

  Mrs Cameron managed to appear perfect, but then she did not have to run the ship in a storm.