Faster Than Falling: The Skylighter Adventures

by Nathan Van Coops

  Shouts of dismay went up from the deck below as the crew recognized their plight. The motor changed speed and the tail fins pitched steeply to arrest the descent. Water gushed from the nose ballast tanks in a desperate bid for lift, but Kipling had dealt the ship a mortal wound. He slung the warhook over his back, lit himself up, and sprang for the sky.

  The Sun Dragon glided out of the shadow of the spire and Quimby coasted the ship underneath where he was hovering. He dimmed and exhaled, dropping back into the front seat of the cockpit.

  “Not bad, sky boy,” Quimby said from the back seat. Her eyes were bright with excitement.

  Kipling met her gaze and smiled. “Okay. One problem solved. Now let’s go find Samra.”

  Quimby engaged the air motor and headed into the desert.

  Kipling watched the column of airships rising higher and higher above them, but it was only after clearing a ridge of rocks that he was finally able to see the destination. Emerging out of the morning haze was the tallest structure he had ever seen. If you could even call it a structure. It was a moving pillar of airships and lift pods, all tied together into one massive tower. As his eyes swept over the column, his stomach turned.

  These raiders hadn’t just captured handfuls of globe sons here and there. They had caught more of the pollinating pods than Kipling had ever imagined. He knew there were dozens of colonies in the Northern Sky relying on the bounty of globe sons to pollinate their patches, but he had no idea that anyone could have so efficiently collected them into one place. The gigantic holding nets contained hundreds, even thousands of the globe sons. With a collection this immense, the Skylighters’ patches had no chance of finding globe sons adrift in the wind. They were all here.

  As Kipling sat gaping at the column, his mind reeled from the implications of this tower’s existence. His father was wrong. This wasn’t just going to be a bad breeding season for the colonies. This would end them.

  He pointed the nets out to Quimby. “Those belong to my people! We have to free them!”

  “What?”

  “The globe sons. We have to get them back.”

  “I thought we were here to save your friend.”

  “We are. But we need to save those, too!”

  Quimby tapped the air gauges again and frowned. “Well, whatever you’re doing, you’d better figure it out fast. Dex is going to bring down the Storm Gate and we don’t have much flying time left.”

  Kipling was still processing this information as the ship approached the base of the tower, but his attention was captured by a flicker of light high overhead and frantic shouts from people in the tower. He clenched the rail of the cockpit as he pulled himself to his feet. The orb of light flashed through the center of the tower of lift pods in little flickers. It was a figure. Two figures, falling from the sky.

  It was Samra! Her arms were grasping the body of a boy. She was plummeting from the sky—and glowing!

  The duo spun out the bottom of the tower into the three hundred foot gap of space between the desert and the first row of lift pods. They were slowing down, but still falling.

  “Samra!” Kipling shouted, unable to control himself.

  Samra and the boy kept falling, down past the surface of the desert and into the top of the gigantic pit.

  Atlas.

  The boy was Atlas.

  What was happening? Where had they just come from? Was she hurt?

  “Get to that pit! Hurry!”

  He waved Quimby on, but she was already aimed at the top of the excavation site. She raced to the edge of the pit and let the Sun Dragon coast over the edge, leaning over the rail to peer down at the results of the fall.

  Kipling’s eyes swept over the tether cables binding the tower to the bottom of the pit and found they were attached to a gigantic sphere. It was metallic and weatherworn, and unlike anything he had ever seen. The sphere was wedged at the bottom of the pit like a ball at the bottom of a cup, the walls of the dig site just barely wide enough to clear the sides.

  He frantically scanned the surface. Searching. There were men down there, workers excavating the site. They had cleared the top of the object of sand and were working to free it from the insistent weight of the dunes around its edges. The prison of sand entrapping the sphere was just wide enough to encircle its upper hemisphere. Retaining walls around the site shivered a little as the sphere shifted, the combined lift from the enormous column of pods overhead slowly wresting it from the desert’s grip.

  He finally spotted Samra.

  She was helping Atlas to his feet at the edge of one of the dunes, and she was floating.

  Kipling yelled down the pit, but she was too far away. She didn’t hear him.

  She didn’t need him.

  There she was, floating at the bottom of the pit, finally able to glow. She’d figured it out and she’d done it without any help from him.

  As he watched Samra lifting the Grounder boy to his feet, he smiled.

  “We going down there?” Quimby asked. She was studying him, a quizzical expression on her face.

  “No,” Kipling said. “I was wrong. She doesn’t need rescuing.”

  “You had me come all this way for nothing?”

  “No,” Kipling replied. His eyes drifted upward to the tower of pods and ships overhead. “I know what I have to do now.” He unslung the warhook and gripped it with both hands. “Take us up.”

  “Into that?” Quimby jabbed a finger toward the tower.

  Kipling turned and looked her in the eyes. “It’s time to save my home.”

  37

  STARFIRE

  Sand sprayed up around them from the impact.

  Samra tumbled down the dune, caught in a tangle of arms and legs.

  She bounced.

  “Ow,” Atlas muttered. He slid to a stop, sprawled at the bottom of the dune, partially covered in sand. He spat some out and eased himself to an elbow. His eyes met hers and he smiled. “That was incredible.”

  Samra’s light flared up again and she drifted off the sand. “Ooh no.” She concentrated and dimmed back down, dropping back to her feet. This glowing thing was going to take some getting used to.

  “You saved me,” the boy said. “I thought I was done for.” He climbed to his feet and brushed himself off with one hand. He was holding something in the other. “Why’d you do it?”

  Samra didn’t know how to put her decision into words, but she knew jumping had been the right choice. The choice between siding with Marlow and his henchmen or this boy with his wild hair and kind eyes. Eyes like his grandfather’s.

  “I think I did it for Enzo,” she finally replied. “And for me.”

  “How did you know it would work?” Atlas asked.

  “Sometimes you have to skip jumping and go straight to flying,” Samra said.

  Atlas studied her and nodded. “Enzo would have liked to see it. I wish he could’ve had someone like you to save him.”

  Samra didn’t have a response for that. Something about the way the boy was looking at her was making it hard to organize her thoughts. She just nodded and looked away.

  They weren’t the only ones down here.

  Workers with lanterns were watching them from all over the top of the sphere. Some were at the edges of the dig, loading sand into buckets on pulleys to be hauled out. A group of others had been in the process of prying an opening in the shell of the sphere. They’d made a hole and one of the men was peeking his head out from inside the outer shell.

  “What is this thing?” Atlas asked, tapping his foot on the curved metallic shape beneath them.

  “I don’t know.” Samra was staring at the men around the opening when something incredible happened. The glowing figure of a woman spontaneously materialized, standing atop the sphere.

  A volley of oaths came from the workers. A few stumbled backward and fell. The man who had been down in the hole in the ship shrieked and climbed out, tripping over himself in his hurry to escape. He lost his footing and fell down
the slope of the sphere, tumbling to a stop at its base.

  The ethereal woman paid no attention to his exit.

  She was blue and translucent. An eerie light shimmered around her edges.

  She was staring at them.

  “Hello. I was hoping to meet a pair like you two one day,” she said.

  Samra merely gaped.

  “I’m happy you’ve come,” the figure continued, opening her arms toward both of them. “You can help me.”

  Atlas moved in front of Samra protectively. “Who are you?”

  Samra thought that ‘What are you?’ would also have been an appropriate question. This person was certainly like no one she had ever seen.

  “I’ve waited a long time to be unearthed again. I’ve been expecting you.”

  “Are you . . . a ghost?” Atlas asked.

  The figure smiled at him. As immaterial as she was, Samra didn’t think she looked like a ghost. She looked like a young woman. Short spiky hair framed an attractive, regal-looking face. Something about the woman’s expression reminded her of Captain Savage.

  A bell rang overhead. Samra looked up to find that some of the tether cables linked between the sphere and the lifting tower were vibrating. The cables whirred through a set of pulleys, clattering as they moved.

  “Boss coming down!” one of the men shouted.

  “What do we do about her?” another man answered, gesturing to the glowing woman.

  “Blazes if I know,” the man’s companion answered. “Let him deal with her.”

  The apparition didn’t express any concern at their comments. She was still intent on them.

  Samra looked up the tether lines to where they penetrated the center of the column. It was lighter up there now. The sun was coming up. Somewhere, high overhead, an elevator was descending. She could guess the occupant—Marlow, come to claim his newly exposed treasure. Her instinct told her to run. Climb the towering walls, leap as high as she could and escape the pit. But there was Atlas. He’d never make it in time. What point was there in saving him from the fall, only to leave him to Marlow’s men in this pit?

  The translucent woman remained unperturbed. She extended a hand toward them. “Won’t you come inside? I desperately need your help, and there are a great many things I would like to show you.”

  Samra and Atlas looked at each other, searching for a plan in the other’s eyes. But when they turned back to face the woman, she was gone. A new glow was emanating from the sphere. The beam of light issued from the hole the men had made in the shell.

  Atlas’s eyes lifted to the cables, tracing them upward. Somewhere overhead, the elevator car continued its descent. His brow furrowed and his fists clenched. Samra could imagine he wasn’t eager to face his attempted killer again so soon. Something drew his attention to one of his hands. He opened his fingers, and she saw he’d been holding the triangular stone that Marlow had tried to steal. The thin lines etched into its surface were glowing faintly. He dropped his gaze to the hole. “So . . . inside then?”

  Samra studied the beam of light emanating from the hole. Despite the strangeness of the woman, Samra didn’t think she was dangerous. Something about her was vaguely comforting. “Right. Inside.” She started up the outside of the sphere, with Atlas on her heels.

  When they reached the hole, they peered down it together. It was an antechamber of sorts, with another opening in the wall on the other side. They could see nothing beyond it. Atlas sat down on the edge of the breech, took one last look above them, and dropped inside.

  Samra exhaled hard and followed.

  “Welcome aboard,” a voice said from the walls.

  “Aboard?” Atlas said. He turned to Samra. “Is this a ship?” If it was an aircraft, it was like nothing he had ever seen before. They were in a passageway lit by tiny lights along the edges of the floor. They followed the faint glow of the lights past a number of doorways, each leading to chambers lined with tall, cylindrical containers, big enough to fit a full-grown person. There were dozens of them.

  A placard on the wall was etched with the word, ‘Starfire.’ Was that the name of the ship?

  The main passage led them in a curve to the right, then ended in a central room with a wide, domed ceiling.

  They walked to the center of the room and spun around.

  “Where did you go?” Samra called out.

  The walls were glowing faintly. So was Samra. She was radiant. Ever since the fall, the girl was emanating a soft greenish light from her skin and Atlas found it fascinating to watch her move. The light seemed to trail off her in the darkness.

  “I’m here,” the voice said from all around them. “I’m all of this. I’m the ship. But also much more.” The walls came alive, instantly awash with light and color, displaying a vast landscape. The domed ceiling was now a brilliant blue sky rimmed with snow-capped mountains. Without moving, they were somehow standing in a field of wind-blown grass. Samra backed up a step, bumping into him and catching her breath. Her feet lifted off the ground just slightly.

  Atlas grasped her hand and held on to her, keeping her from drifting toward the ceiling-turned-sky.

  Samra turned to look at him, eyes wide, but as they focused on his, she settled slowly back to the ground. He loosened his grip on her hand, but she didn’t move it. Instead, she kept her warm palm pressed to his and entwined his fingers with her own.

  The grass waved against their legs and even the air smelled of the wide open. The vision was so real that Atlas felt sure he could reach down and pluck a stem from the ground.

  The next moment the illusion changed. The sun set and a starscape appeared overhead. Strange constellations and a single moon, low on the horizon.

  “What . . . what is this place?” he asked, his stance wide to stabilize himself against the strange changes. He half expected the ground to vanish under his feet.

  “This is where you came from.”

  “The Old World?” Atlas took in the view with rabid curiosity. It changed again, even as he spoke. They were now moving through the sky, overflying mountain ranges and jungles, rivers and deserts. It was beautiful. The floor beneath them was part of the view, giving him the impression they were flying without a ship. It was thrilling and frightening at the same time.

  “I wanted to show you the home of your people,” the voice said. “From a long time ago.”

  They were now standing atop an ocean, the waves swirling around their feet. Ahead of them lay a shining city. One like Atlas had never seen. Massive towers stretched toward the sky and reflected the sunlight. There were bridges and trees, and people walking along the edges of the water. Hundreds of them. Thousands maybe. But Atlas realized it was the sky that was different here. It was all but empty. White puffy clouds hung overhead in a few spots, but the rest of the sky was vacant. No kelp towers, no globe patches, no drifting clumps of skyweed. Just the clouds and a few tiny birds soaring in the open air.

  “Where is this Old World?” Samra asked. “Is it far away?”

  “Very far,” the voice said. The woman reappeared next to them. The surroundings dimmed as she arrived. She was still immaterial but seemed to have gained some substance inside the ship. Even so, Atlas could now recognize her as an illusion like the ones they’d just been witnessing.

  “What’s your name?” Samra asked.

  The woman seemed to consider the question. “I’ve had many names over the years.”

  “Did people forget it?” Samra asked, her voice sympathetic.

  “Some have,” the woman replied.

  “Do you still remember?” Samra asked.

  The woman smiled at Samra. “It’s Mira. The first name I had was Mira. It’s still my favorite.”

  A thud echoed through the walls of the ship and the floor shook. Atlas steadied himself, this time against real movement.

  “They’re raising me up,” Mira said. Her light flickered. “The diggers have nearly finished their job.”

  “Are you happy they’re diggi
ng you out?” Atlas said. “Or frightened?”

  Mira smiled again. “I could never be frightened of my children, no matter their intentions.” She gestured for them to follow her. “Come. I have much to tell you and little time to do so.”

  A portion of the wall illuminated and revealed itself as another passageway. Atlas couldn’t comprehend how he hadn’t been able to see it before, but this entire ship was dreamlike and magical in its capabilities. He somewhat reluctantly let go of Samra’s hand, and followed her and the luminescent woman through the passage.

  Mira led them into a chamber that glowed softly of its own accord. Invisible lights illuminated rows of tiny alcoves in the walls, dozens in each row. A number of the openings were empty, but the remaining alcoves held cubes, of the same size and shape as the one Mr. Merritt used in the schoolhouse. Relics.

  “I’m hoping that you will grant me a favor,” Mira said. She was watching him as she spoke. “And help me remedy a costly mistake that was made a very long time ago.”

  Samra was running her fingers over the edges of the relics, brushing bits of dust off a few. “They’re beautiful,” she said. “Are they all yours?”

  “They were never meant for me,” Mira said. “They were meant for my children.”

  “Who are your children?” Samra asked.

  Mira turned and gestured to Atlas. “One of them is right here.”

  “Uh, you’re not my mom,” Atlas said.

  “No,” Mira replied. “But you are still one of my children. All of your people are. I brought you to life in this place. A long time ago. I taught you the ways of this world. Its language. Its beauty. I chose to build you a home here, on Altiria.”

  “I don’t understand,” Atlas said. “I thought our ancestors sailed across the skies from the Old World on a ship. They were adventurers.”

  “They most certainly were,” Mira replied. “Bold adventurers. And I want you to know the rest of their story.”

  One of the relics in the row of alcoves lit up and began to pulse with purple light. He had to squint as he looked at it.