Another hassassin rushed out from behind the stones. He charged the baron with a clay jar dangling a lit fuse. I heard a zinging sound as one of Mr. Singh’s Chakrams whipped past and sliced through the jar. Black powder spilled everywhere as I lowered the second Thumper and fired. The concussive blast smashed into the assassin and sent him sprawling.
The baron rushed forward and pressed his saber against the assassin’s neck. “Who sent you?”
The hassassin pulled out a small glass vile and popped the stopper with his thumb. Before the baron could stop him, he poured the liquid in his mouth. The assassin contorted, shaking violently before he collapsed. Dead.
The baron dropped to his knee and rooted through the assassin’s clothes. The captain stepped up beside him and said, “Baron, we need to return to the Sparrowhawk and get out of here. I doubt he’ll have much to tell.”
“They are professional hassassins, and I think I know who hired them.” The baron stood up, apparently not finding anything he considered useful. “I agree, Captain. We should depart as quickly as possible.”
“I found some stones that might work to replace the strut,” I said, patting my leather bag.
“Excellent!” the captain said with a grim smile. “Maybe we won’t be grounded for long after all.”
Running toward the aero-dirigible, I gripped my new Thumper, now scratched from all the knife strikes. It—and Hunter—had saved my life.
CHAPTER 10
MIDAIR REPAIRS
We rushed onboard and I hurried to the engine room. I set the stones in front of Gears who inspected each one as I stripped off my shirt and threw it to the ground in a heap. He picked each stone up, examined it, chipped at one with his wrench, and licked another, before settling on the third stone.
“This one will do.” He handed the stone to me. “Get this set.”
“Right away.”
I ran over to the central propeller shaft. The support had been broken, and without it secured, we wouldn’t be able to use that engine for long. Before I placed the stone, I had to cut away the damaged section of the brace. One edge had been cut and bent out of place. I was staring at an obvious work of sabotage, and anger swelled within me. Who would do this to our airship? Who even had the opportunity?
With the cut in the helium cell, and now this, someone was really trying to keep us from continuing on our journey. We must be on the right track. The saboteur had to be a member of the crew. I scanned the engine room staring at each crewman. Most I’d known since Genevieve and I stowed away on the Sparrowhawk. I couldn’t believe that after two years they were now turning to evil. It couldn’t be one of them I told myself. It had to be one of the crew picked up in Egypt to replace the men killed during the battle in Zululand.
I cut the strut just below the bend, and wedged the stone into the cavity. Gears walked by and checked my work. He smiled “Excellent.” He put weight on the shaft to see if the stone shifted. “I think she’ll hold. At least until we can fix her properly in an airdock.”
“Who did this?”
Anger flared across Gear’s smudged face. “I don’t know but when I find them, I’m shoving this wrench down his throat. Hurting my girl”—he looked around lovingly at the airship—“I’ll smear them with grease and lock’em in the boiler.” He leaned closer. “Captain’s on it, though. I bet he dangles a few outside when we’re up in the clouds. Nothing gets the truth like staring at a three-thousand-foot drop.”
A couple of years ago, I might have bristled at the comment, but a part of me hoped the captain would really do it. Saboteurs deserved nothing less.
“Anything else need fixing?”
“Oh yeah, I have a list.” He pointed to the engines. “Let me get her up in the air since captain wants to get out of here. Then we’ll get to the repairs.” Gears looked at me sideways, noting the shirt wadded up on the engine room floor.
Before I could tell him I’d been covered with brains, Baldarich’s voice echoed from the copper tube jutting out of the wall, “Gears, is she ready yet?”
Gears walked over and yelled, “We’ve repaired enough to get out of here.”
“Good. Prepare to depart.”
I grabbed my shirt and left the engine room so I wouldn’t be in the way. Heading down to the gun deck, I saw Mr. Singh stood in the center with crewmen manning the cannon and Gatling guns. With his focus aimed outside looking for more henchmen or assassins, I let him be. I leaned down by one of the ports and tossed my shirt out. I wanted no part in cleaning it. As we lifted off the ground, I stared at the ruins of Babylon. I was happy to be leaving. Not only did it mean we were leaving the henchmen and assassins behind, but we were back on Genevieve’s trail.
I only hoped these delays didn’t mean we’d lost the Milli-train one more time.
Mr. Singh ordered the cannon stowed and plugged once we were away from the ruins. I remained at the open gun port. Below lay a beige world of desert and rock, but above lay a bright blue sky spotted with puffy clouds. Up in the heavens, the troubles below never seemed to matter, as if the sky allowed us to soar above our problems.
I sighed, closed the port, and returned to the engine room to see what Gears had for me to do. As I climbed the stairs to the mid-deck, I saw Mr. Singh and two crewmen heading up to the top deck fully armed. Mr. Singh didn’t usually walk around with all his weapons. Were they keeping an eye out for saboteurs? I wanted to ask, but I had to get to the engine room.
I waved as I entered. “What else needs repairing, Gears?”
He poked his head out from behind engine three. “I have just the job for you, but thank goodness your father isn’t here. He would not approve.”
I brightened. “Sounds like I’m going to like it.”
“You may not when I tell you the details.” Gears ducked under the spinning shaft and pulled off his thick work gloves. “One of the wingsail bindings has loosened or broken off, and I need someone to go out and fix it. If I remember right, you like climbing around airships.”
Excitement rippled through me as I thought of being outside. “I might have walked around the Storm Vulture.”
“And you fought the Sky Witch Zerelda on top of the Sparrowhawk.”
“Don’t forget crash landing onto the Sparrowhawk, too.”
Gears chuckled, “I almost forgot about that. See, you’re my guy.” He pointed to a pouch of tools. “That’s everything you’ll need, and Hunter agreed to spot you.”
“I’ll get it fixed at once.” I scooped up the bag and ran off. First, I stopped by my room for a new shirt and sweater, and to grab my goggles. Then I darted up to the top deck.
Hunter waited, leaning on the ladder to the conning tower. I saluted as I reached the top of the stairs. He returned the gesture.
“Are you here to make sure I don’t fall off?”
“Something like that. I’m making certain no saboteurs cut your line.”
I hadn’t thought about that. This would be the perfect time for a traitor to get rid of me. One snip and I’d fall, or with a locked hatch I’d be stuck outside.
I must have an odd expression because Hunter said, “I wouldn’t worry. The captain is rounding up the possible suspects right now.”
“That explains why Mr. Singh was fully armed.” I grabbed hold of the ladder and stepped on the first rung. “Thanks for keeping an eye on me.”
“Of course,” Hunter said with a nod. “It’s what I do.”
I climbed up and opened the hatch. The wind whipped around me, pushing my hair into my face, but with the goggles, it didn’t matter. Once on top, I clipped my lifeline to the rail that ran the length of the airship. At full speed, the air rushing over the Sparrowhawk pushed against me, but crouching a bit and keeping my feet wide apart helped me moved with ease.
Hunter exited behind me and clipped his line onto the rail as well. Together we slipped to the back of the ship. Below, I saw one of the winglets, the small stabilizing wingsail, fluttering in the wind. Before we reached th
e two humps on the back of the airship that housed the helium cells, I stopped and checked for the best way down.
“Here I go.” Sitting down, I slid along the canvas-covered metal ribbing. Every so often along the side of the airship short metal rails poked out, some acted as rope guides, others redirected lighting, and some were mounted for the reason I was here—to walk along the hull.
When I stood above the wingsail, I shimmied along the rail to the small winglet in the back. I pressed my whole body against the canvas. Without hand holds or a firm place for my feet, the risk of slipping off was never far from my mind.
“Stick like tar.” I exhaled and repeated, “Stick like tar.”
The winglet pounded against the air like a drum, never relenting, almost nerve shattering. However, I tried to push the repetitive annoyance away and focus on what I had to do. Turning my head while remaining pressed against the canvas, I saw a broken iron ring and a bent bearing on the hull. It would be an easy fix in an air dock, but here, in the sky was a whole other matter.
I kept telling myself not to look down, but the winglet was below me. Every time I tried to figure how to make the repair, the ground far below called like one of the sirens luring sailors to their death.
I focused on the winglet, until a scream cut through the raging wind. Raising my head, I feared Hunter had slipped, but instead saw one of the crew dangling upside down. A rope tied around his legs tethered him to the airship. Leaning out of the cargo door, I saw the captain, Mr. Singh, and several crewmen holding the rope.
They must have discovered the saboteur.
It gave me an idea. I double-knotted my lifeline around the rail and let go. I fell under the winglet right next to the bent bearing and broken ring. Reaching into my bag of tools, I pulled out a wrench bound to the bag by a leather tie, and hooked the bearing. Locking my feet against one of the metal ribs under the canvas hull, I pulled with all my might and bent it back into place. A few strikes on top worked it back into place. I snagged the broken ring with my fingers, pulling the winglet toward me. Working the broken iron through the grommet, I retrieved a replacement from the bag and slid it through the winglet.
As I grabbed the pinchers from my bag to secure the iron ring, I slipped away from the airship. Spinning on the end of my tether, the wind forced me up and down and side to side. When the wind whipped me against the hull, I pushed off with my feet and hooked the ring with my fingers. Pulling myself toward the winglet, I hooked my foot on the yardarm and brought the pinchers forward. Upside down under the winglet with the bag hanging over my head but secure around my shoulder, I had great access to the winglet. With the pinchers in one hand, I secured the tool around the two sides of the ring. Then clamped the handles, bringing the two ends together. With one last grunt, I squeezed the pincher’s handles as close as I could manage.
Pulling the pinchers away, I yanked the winglet taught and hooked the ring around the bearing. With a few strikes from the handle of the pinchers, the bearing wrapped around the ring, and though it wasn’t perfect, it was repaired. Hopefully, it would hold until we could get to an airdock.
Now I had to get back inside. Releasing my foot, I swung into the air. I pulled myself hand over hand until I could grasp the railing. I untied the double knot, freeing the rope, which was still connected to the top of the airship. The rope went taut and tugged me off the railing. I looked up to find Hunter hoisting me up. I used the metal ribbing poking through the canvas hull to help guide me past the obstacles on the side of the Sparrowhawk.
When I reached the top, Hunter extended his hand and yanked me up. I lay down and exhaled. Hunter leaned over me. “Are the repairs done?”
I nodded and held up my thumb.
Hunter smiled, “Come on, let’s get inside.”
Again, I held up my thumb. The enormity of what I’d just done was sinking in and I feared my voice would betray me. I could still feel the emptiness between me and the ground as I’d hung upside down. Hunter pulled me to my feet and my knees wobbled beneath me.
“That was some trick,” he said, steadying me. “Can’t wait to tell the captain.”
CHAPTER 11
MILLI-TRAIN TRACKS
After three ambushes, Captain Baldarich wasn’t taking any more chances and we zigzagged toward the mountains. They told me we were looking for the Milli-train, but I overhead he and the baron talking about preventing anyone on the ground from knowing where we traveled. I didn’t like it. All I could think of was that another week had passed, and the Milli-train was getting further away as we crossed the steppe.
The steppe was what the baron and the others kept calling the land before the top of the world. The mountains in the distance looked like a wall of stone that stretched from one end of the horizon to the other.
The closer we flew to the Himalayas, the more impressed I became. Snow-capped peaks rose above us and pierced the clouds. The mountains looked impossible to pass. I’d never seen the Sparrowhawk fly high enough to go over them, and with the peaks jammed next to one another, I didn’t see a way through. Not a single pass cracked the horizon.
“Welcome to the rooftop of the world.” Baron Kensington walked up behind me as I peered out the window on the bridge.
“I’ve never seen anything so massive.” I remained pressed against the glass, each exhale fogging it up even more.
“Thousands of miles of mountains. They stretch to the north and to the east. It’s so high you’ll have trouble breathing. So take it easy.”
“Fascinating. I take it you’ve been here before.”
“When I was stationed in India, we chased bandits up through the Punjab and into Tibet.”
“That’s where you helped Mr. Singh.”
“Yes, I found him defending his parent’s bodies in the Punjab.”
“I haven’t talked to him since they discovered the saboteur. I should check on him.”
“You’re a good man, Alexander.”
Captain Baldarich shouted, “There!” and shattered the moment between the baron and me.
We spun around and found him vaulting out of his chair and pointing at the ground.
“Ten degrees starboard, Heinz.” The captain stepped up beside the pilot.
Heinz nodded and adjusted the wheel. The baron and I walked over. I tried to see what had excited the captain, but all I saw was barren ground, rocks, and two parallel lines of churned up earth. Then I realized, I’d seen those lines before. In Africa. The tracks of the Milli-train.
I rushed forward. The tracks led over a ridge and into a mountain pass. From here I could see where each leg of the train had poked the ground, tearing up the soil as it pulled forward, and then the next leg striking right behind the original hole. The tracks wove back and forth, just like the Milli-train had done when it crossed Africa.
I pumped my fist in the air. “We’ve found them.”
“Not yet,” the captain reminded me. He pointed toward the pass. “Take us in Heinz, but watch the mountains, I don’t want to lose a wingsail.”
“Aye, aye, Captain. Can we go higher?”
“The helium isn’t going to lift us much more.” Captain Baldarich walked back to the copper tubes, flipped all four open and leaned closer. “Hunter, I need your eyes on the bridge.”
Within moments Hunter came onto the bridge and joined me by the windows. “Eyes on, Captain.”
“Don’t lose those tracks.”
I pointed as the Milli-train’s trail climbed over a high mountain pass.
“Captain,” Hunter said, “course adjustment to port twenty degrees. Take us over that ridge.”
Baldarich clapped his hands. “Heinz, you heard the man, get us over that ridge.”
Heinz turned the wheel. “Bearing to port, twenty degrees.”
Hunter pointed over my head. “Get ready for a sharp starboard turn after the ridge.”
“How do you know that?” I asked staring at the ground trying to see what he was able to read.
“See
how the tracks are curving at the ridgeline, and then the back slope of this mountain over here. They had to turn right.”
“Fascinating,” I said, and as Hunter explained, when we crested the ridge. The tracks led through the valley and then tore straight across a village perched on the side of a mountain. Several buildings of the tiered city had damage.
Hunter turned to the captain. “A village sir.”
The baron looked up from the map table and said, “Captain, can we land? They’ll be able to tell how long ago the Milli-train passed through.”
“My thoughts exactly, Your Grace.” He cracked his knuckles. “Heinz, take us down.”
“Where? I don’t see any docks or even a strip of land big enough.”
“Hunter?”
“The top plateau should be big enough, barely, but we won’t have to worry about getting tangled in those flags.”
Baldarich stepped over beside us. He surveyed the spot and nodded. “Heinz set her down gently. The winds will be wicked so close to the mountain.” He then turned to me. “Tell Mr. Singh to fold the wingsails in early. We won’t be able to get close enough if he doesn’t.”
I nodded and ran off. I found Mr. Singh on the middeck. “We’re about to land and the captain wants you to close the wingsails early or we won’t have room to land.”
Mr. Singh nodded and cupped a hand to his mouth. His voice rose over the noise. “Prepare for landing. Crewmen to the wingsails.”
Several crewmen ran onto the deck and lined up along the ropes. Mr. Singh walked over to the hull and pulled a lever, opening the doors to allow the wingsail to retract. He then marched to the other side of the airship and flipped a similar lever.
I crossed the way and asked Mr. Singh, “Do you need me to tie up the wingsails?”
He counted the men who had gathered and shook his head. “No. But I want you to go down to the gun deck and watch the landing strut. If they aren’t on firm ground, come and tell me.”
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