by Anthology
“Ah, that’s another problem. Very limited coal bunker, and it loses a lot of steam, too. So you have to fill up with water every mile or so.”
Lan glanced back. They had come about a mile from the workshop. However, the gang was falling behind. Perhaps escape was within their grasp.
She didn’t see Chen when he attacked. The machine wobbled, and its gait changed, Molly cursing as she fought to keep them going straight. It had to be Chen clinging to one of the legs beneath them, and Lan steeled herself, preparing to leap out of the bowl.
Then steam came billowing up from beneath them, and Molly said calmly, “There’s one other problem with the design. When you lose pressure, the legs will-”
The bowl rose, as if the machine was standing on its toes. Then, majestically, like a metal redwood, the steam trousers, legs rigidly straight, began to topple.
Lan honestly thought she was paralyzed with terror, but her training took over as the cobbled street rushed at her. She left the bowl a moment before impact, rolling across the cobbles, redirecting the force of the collision. It was still a brutal blow, and she lie half stunned. Her mind screamed at her to move, to get up, but her body lie limp.
Molly sprawled beside the fallen machine, unmoving, and Lan felt her heart lurch as Chen stepped around the wreckage. It would take him but an instant to end Molly’s life. One blow would do it, and there was nothing Lan could do.
Instead he stepped over Molly’s inert form. His face was solemn, almost sad, as he walked up to Lan and lifted his foot.
She found the ability to move at the last possible second. She twisted sideways as he stomped down, and his shoe grazed her cheek. She caught his ankle in her hand and tried to bring her legs up and slam her feet into the small of his back. But her heels just drummed pathetically on the cobbles, and he smiled.
He dropped to one knee and struck for her throat with stiffened fingers. She brought her free hand up and blocked him, then wrapped her fist around his index finger. His other hand went to her wrist, keeping her from twisting and breaking his finger, and she let go of his ankle, grabbing his forearm. For the moment they were deadlocked, but there was no question how it would end. He was stronger, even when she wasn’t injured. She was faster, but flat on her back that advantage was gone. She was going to die.
“We shouldn’t be enemies,” he said, his voice mild and sad. “We may be the only Chinese people in all of France. And we’re the only people in a thousand miles who understand the Way of the Fist. You are so much like me you are almost my sister, and yet you fight me, and side with these pallid sheep.”
“I’m nothing like you,” she said, tasting the lie on her tongue. It was a relief, a comfort even, to hear and speak Cantonese after so many months on foreign shores. She felt a kinship with him, and it ran deeper than race and language. She had met soldiers in Britain, but no one who had trained the way she had. No one except Chen.
“You will kill anyone for money,” she said. “That’s the difference between us.” She felt a surge of fury as she thought of the power he wielded, and the utter lack of respect that went with it.
His eyebrow rose. “And do you not get a stipend from the Granite Palm? Do you not kill? Do you not get paid?”
She thought of the brave, resourceful girl lying unconscious on the street a few feet away. “Well, I won’t kill Molly,” she said. “And neither will you.” She brought her feet up, planted her heels on the cobbles, and used her whole body to heave against Chen’s hands. Her strength was returning, but it was less than she’d hoped, and he squeezed her wrist and pulled his finger from her fist.
For an endless moment their hands were a blur of motion as he struck and she blocked. Then he caught each of her wrists in his hands, and she knew it was over.
He pushed her left wrist to the street, put his knee on her forearm, and lifted his hand over her throat. “Goodbye, Lan Yi,” he said.
A tiny sound alerted him, and he twisted, trying to see behind him, as Molly brought a cobblestone slashing down at his head. There was a thump of impact and a swirl of motion, and Lan’s arms were suddenly free. She sat up.
Molly was flat on her back. Chen would have swept her legs out from under her almost as a reflex. Lan looked around and saw him lurching drunkenly down the street, one hand clapped to the back of his head, the other hand catching him as he almost fell.
Voices rose in an excited babble as people began to gather, drawn by the noise of the crash. Chen’s hired thugs were no longer in sight, and there were witnesses enough now to discourage them. Lan sighed and let some of the tension leave her body. She was safe, for the moment.
Molly managed to stand, but she wobbled on her feet, in no shape to help Lan up. Lan finally crawled to the fallen machine, grabbed the edge of the bowl, and used it to haul her way up to her feet. She and Molly leaned on each other for support and pushed their way through the gathering crowd, leaving the steam trousers where they lay.
Lan scanned the darkening streets as they limped into deepening shadow. She felt safer once they made it to a side street far from the nearest gaslight. It was a temporary reprieve, though. The Black Dragon would be back. She had to figure out why Molly was a target, but first she had to keep the two of them alive.
“What now?” Molly asked.
“If we hurry, you can pack a bag. It will take Chen some time to recover and get organized. Not very long, though.”
Molly nodded. “Then what?”
“Then we run.”
Orphans of the
Celestial Sea
Mark Fenger
The story so far…
Tom Cain rescued sisters Nikki and Willow Keats from psychotic Draggers (humans who have been turned into animalistic killing machines by exposure to Mist) and a Mist infestation with the help of sharpshooter Agatha West. They fled Milton on the apparently deserted airship Hecate.
As they were pulling out of Milton, a young woman appeared at the door to the bridge, but she ran away before any of the crew could ask her what had happened. In spite of an exhaustive search, she could not be found.
Now they limp toward the nearest repair station on one engine, with heavily damaged controls.
Episode 2
Chapter 1
“Town ahoy Captain!” Willow withdrew the spyglass from her eye with a grin and leaned back from the railing of the Hecate’s outer deck. She’d raided the spare clothes from the old crew and now wore a pair of flight-goggles, a bomber hat, and an oversized navy pea-coat that she’d belted at the waist with a yellow silk scarf.
“Is it the right one?” Tom furrowed his brow, squinting at the horizon.
Willow rolled her eyes. “Yeah Tom. We took the course heading I gave, arrived within minutes of the timetable I plotted, but it’s the wrong town. Try to have a little faith.”
Tom smiled at her. “Sorry, I’m new to this.”
“Don’t apologise! You’re the Captain, so try to act like it right?”
“Hey, you two mind moving aside? I’d like to see where I’m steering.” Nikki’s muted voice came through the glass of the bridge. She was doing the best she could on Hecate’s smashed control console, but it made her irritable. She’d returned Tom’s flight jacket and raided the mystery-passenger’s wardrobe for a black-trimmed red wool overcoat to keep her warm. She didn’t quite have the curves to fill it out yet, but if she’d been a few years older it would fit her like it was made for her.
Of the mystery passenger herself, they’d seen no further sign. Tom had locked all the food and drink away at night in an attempt to draw her out, but she either had her own supplies wherever she was hiding, or was too scared to take the bait.
Tom and Willow walked around the side of Hecate’s bridge and in through the forward hatch.
“I should fix us some lunch.” Tom
turned toward the galley.
Willow groaned. “Lemme guess, beans and bacon?”
Tom shrugged. “I like beans and bacon, and it’s the only thing I know how to cook.”
Willow shuddered. “We have got to get someone aboard who can do better in the galley.”
“You want to cook, go ahead, but I’m not taking any more crew on ‘till we’ve done some cargo runs and can pay ‘em proper.”
“Don’t want to give up more of your share?”
“Exactly, Hecate could be great for all of us. It’s a new start, and if we take the right steps we can all live on her as long as we want. Ain’t you ever wanted to see the world?”
Willow’s eyes crinkled at the corners like she was holding back a smile. “Of course.”
Agatha was bustling around the galley when they arrived. “There’s no food!”
Willow laughed. “There’s hard-tack.” She opened a cupboard and tapped one of the biscuits inside against the table. It sounded like a block of wood.
Agatha made a face.
“I’m cooking up some beans and bacon.” Tom grabbed a pan and slapped it down on the stove.
Agatha’s face grew even more twisted. “Bleh, hard-tack it is.”
“I thought you liked my beans!”
“The first time. Second time they was okay too, but after the fifth meal, I have to say they started to become just a mite repetitive.”
“That’s it, I’ve had enough abuse for one day.” Tom turned the heat off the pan. “I’m gonna hit the town and get myself a nice steak and potatoes in a few hours anyhow.”
Willow sighed. “I wonder if they’ll have pork pie.”
Agatha paused with the biscuit half in her mouth. “Oh don’t! You’ve got me drooling now. How are we gonna pay for all this?”
“I was gonna talk to you about that. Armoury has way more than we could ever need, why not sell a rifle or two?”
“Yeah, I’ll go have a look.” Agatha set the hard-tack down on the table and turned to go.
“Lock our sidearms away while you’re at it.” Tom tossed her his revolver.
“You sure?” Agatha felt the revolver at her side. “I-I don’t feel right without it on.”
“It’s a big town, we’ll be safe enough, and the law tends to get antsy around people carryin’.”
Agatha frowned and fingered the grip of her revolver.
“Agatha there ain’t gonna be Draggers in Havenvale! It’s a big, well-protected town, okay?”
“Yeah… okay.” She ducked out of the doorway.
Tom rubbed his jaw, it was starting to develop some stubble, but he was loath to use another man’s razor. “You reckon she’ll stay on?”
Willow nodded. “She’s got nowhere else to be. She’ll grouse about it, but she’ll come ‘round.”
“And the two of you?”
“That’s a little trickier. Nikki wants to stay, but says we got obligations.”
“What do you say?”
Willow sighed. “I say our family’s prolly all dead. That means we’re free.”
“Free? Why wouldn’t you be free?”
Willow looked away. “Oh, just family debts… you know.”
Tom was about to respond when the zeppelin gondola started to shudder rhythmically. A deep rumble came from the starboard engine. He dashed for the bridge with Willow close behind.
The door to the bridge was locked so Tom hammered with his fist. As he was pounding the shaking and noise ceased. Hecate went eerily silent without any engines running, just the hiss of wind past the canopy to let them know they were still moving.
“Who is it?” Nikki’s voice from the other side.
“Open the damned door Nikki! What’s going on!”
The door clicked and swung open.
“Engine troubles.” Nikki slid back into the pilot’s chair.
“Obviously! Why was the door locked?”
Nikki raised an eyebrow. “You told me to lock up when you or Agatha wasn’t around.”
“Right… right. What’s the situation?”
“Looks like the engine ran out of oil. I couldn’t see it ‘cause that gauge is smashed.” She waved at the array of mostly-broken dials above her station. “I think I got ‘er shut down before the engine was completely destroyed. We’ll have to glide the rest of the way and hope the boys manning the mooring tower are looking sharp today.”
“You’re kidding me. Glide a fifty ton airship in, close enough to a dead-stop that a half-dozen boys crewing the tower can reign it in?”
“Do we have a choice?”
Tom glanced out the bridge windows. The town was rapidly approaching. “How long ‘till we hit… err land.”
Nikki gave an aggravated sigh. “About five minutes. Look, this isn’t as easy as it looks. I’m trying to gauge the wind, bleed off some speed by fishtailing back and forth, while keeping enough momentum to make it there. Is there something else you could be doing?”
Tom nodded. “I’ll double up the rigging.” He turned and raced from the bridge. Finally something he knew better than the girls aboard. He’d been a rig-monkey for two years, but even with that practice it would be tight getting four extra guylines in place in under five minutes.
* * *
The last line clipped in place just as the airship was caught by the mooring towers. The boys down below were sharp, they had six of the lines tied off in a matter of seconds. The stays groaned, cables stretched to their fullest and one of the towers leaned alarmingly far. Tom was thrown forward from his perch, but clung to the rigging with calloused hands. When they’d settled in place he hung for a moment, suspended over the town of Havenvale. Best view in the house.
Tom swung his legs up to the rigging and scrambled down to Hecate’s outer deck.
“Are you crazy!” The Portmaster came storming onto the top of the nearest mooring tower. “Damn near wrecked us you maniacs!”
Tom smiled back. “My apologies. We didn’t have much choice, lost our last engine about five minutes ago.”
“Oh….” The look of anger on the Portmaster’s face faded. “Well, you come to the right place then. We can fix durn near anything, if you’ve got the price.”
Tom grabbed a spare bit of rigging that hung down from the envelope and swung across to the tower. “How’s the market for lead these days?”
The Portmaster frowned. “Look, can I talk to your Captain? I’d rather not have to repeat myself.”
“He is the Captain.” Willow copied Tom’s move and swung across to the tower.
“Is not!” called Agatha from the deck.
The Portmaster looked from one to another of the teens. “Well, is he or ain’t he?”
Tom glared at Agatha and mouthed, “Not now.” She folded her arms and frowned.
“I am the Captain. Hecate is our salvage after the previous crew was wiped out in a Dragger attack at Milton.”
The Portmaster whistled. “That so? We was wonderin’ why the regular flight never came in from Milton. How bad was it?”
“Bad…. Far as I know the four of us are the only ones to make it.”
The boys manning the tower swung a gangplank across to the Hecate’s deck. Nikki and Agatha walked across to join them.
The Portmaster sized them and gave a predatory smile. “You’re the whole crew? Just you four?”
Tom beamed. “Yep, Hecate was banged up pretty bad, but we got ‘er here, just us.”
The Portmaster’s grin grew two sizes larger. “That a fact?” He hastily wiped the smile from his face and checked his pocketwatch. “Aright, I’ll contact the Guild. A rep’ll meet you here in, say two hours?”
“Sounds good.” Tom slung the long canvas bag with the rifles over h
is shoulder and climbed down to the ground.
When the rest of the crew arrived he gave them a big grin. “We made it! Time to celebrate.”
Havenvale was as dirty a town as Tom had seen in his travels. There were berths for a dozen airships, but only three in port aside from Hecate. Beyond the port were rows of machine shops and hangars. Sparks flew from welding torches, hammers beat metal into shape, and apprentices ran in every direction carrying a variety of parts. Beyond that was a row of saloons and a few shops for the visiting aircrew. The buildings in town were mostly five or six stories high, made from brick and mortar, every surface varnished a dark hue from years of greasy smoke. There were a few refuge towers on the outskirts, but with the large buildings in town, people would simply climb to the roofs during a Mist attack.
The packed-earth streets and boardwalks bustled with activity, most of it on foot, though horse-drawn wagons were common. There were even a few horseless trucks and autos.
A little guy, about Willow’s height, wearing a flat-cap and suspenders waited outside Havenvale’s telegraph office with a toolbox and large duffle. “Hey, you from the Airship that just docked?”
Tom nodded. “Yeah.”
“Can you ask your Captain if he could use a hand in the machine room? I’m a journeyman mech, looking for a berth. I work real hard and don’t eat much.”
Tom frowned. “I’m the damn Captain, is that so hard to believe?”
Agatha shook her head. “No you’re not.”
Tom rounded on her. “Look Agatha, I’m getting sick of your attitude! I’m the only one with years of flight experience. Who else is suited to the job?”
“Two years of fixing rigging does not prepare you to command an airship.”
“Who led you three safely out of Milton? Who got us aboard and free from the Draggers?”
