by Zoë Ferraris
“Slurch beetles,” Gent explained. “They carry a numbing poison. It won’t last long, but if you try to resist, I’ll open another vial.” She motioned to her other pocket.
Gent’s guards seized her and, leaving the others behind, hurried Emma down the dock. She wanted to resist, but every movement was difficult. She finally wrenched herself free and tried to run, but only fell to her knees. The guards hauled her to her feet and dragged her on.
“Tema!” a voice cried from the end of a pier. With great effort of will, Emma turned toward the sound and saw Dr. Vermek climbing out of a longboat. Small green sparks began to pop behind her eyes.
“Look at this,” Gent hissed. She grabbed Emma’s chin. “Just look at that face.”
The man locked eyes with Emma. “This is remarkable. I—”
“Get her on the longboat.”
Emma blinked madly to clear the sparks from her vision. The beetles’ poison wasn’t wearing off.
The next few moments went by very fast. Vermek took Emma’s arm. Emma lunged forward, blubbering, “No!” Then one of the guards noticed a surprising thing—Gent, who was standing in front of him, was also coming out of the crowd behind him. Confused, he looked back and forth. Gent noticed the commotion and spun to face the woman behind her.
Nisba.
In that moment everything came to a halt. The two women froze. Their mutual stares were so thick with disgust that even the tarantula scurried for cover in the folds of Gent’s coat. Emma stared. Nisba had found them, and it couldn’t be a coincidence. Maybe the other Arghs were nearby….
“What do you think you’re doing?” Nisba said.
“Don’t you know?” Gent taunted.
Nisba’s face turned an angry red as she glared at her twin. The women seemed locked in an emotional force field, unable to break gazes.
Emma, who had been struggling to stay out of the longboat, suddenly found herself pulled away as Gent snatched her arm. The captain dragged her along and began circling her sister like a lion. The tarantula drew the courage to peek out of her coat, but stayed well within it.
“I always hated being inside your head,” Nisba said. “But now it’s a particularly disgusting place.”
Gent grinned. “Well, I have news for you: it’s not my head—it’s our head. You can’t just leave because you don’t like it.”
“Yes, I can,” Nisba said. A bead of sweat slid down her nose. “I broke that link long ago.”
“Then how did you find me?” Gent gave a cold laugh. “I suppose you intend to stop me?”
“Yes.”
Gent drew the pistol from her weapons belt and pointed it at Emma’s head. “Try it and I will shoot the girl.”
A look of panic crossed Nisba’s face.
Emma froze. As she was suspended in a strangely quiet world where things seemed to have slowed to an insect-like crawl, one realization came to her clearly: Nisba had been sneaky indeed. She must have recognized Emma as Halifax’s daughter and realized that she might be carrying the Pyxis. And she must have pretended that none of it was true. Because Captain Gent was her twin. Because if Nisba knew it, then Gent would know too. Nisba had been trying to protect Emma.
Gent seemed to have read something in her sister’s thoughts, for she turned decisively to Vermek. “Search the girl,” she commanded.
“Captain?” he asked.
“Just do it! She’s got something on her. Something important enough that my sister would come all this way to make sure I don’t find it.”
“Don’t be foolish!” Nisba snapped. “She doesn’t have anything!”
Vermek knelt before Emma and felt her sleeves and shoulders.
“Wait,” Emma said, pulling away. “Wait, I’ll get it for you.”
They looked at her in surprise.
Emma slid a bloodstained hand into her trouser pocket and closed her fist around the jar. It was the one with the bullets and the scupper water inside. Pretending to fumble with all the things in her pocket, Emma secretly unscrewed the jar’s lid.
As she removed the jar from her pocket, she looked at Gent. “My mom made me promise never to show this to anybody,” she said. “But I guess I don’t have a choice…. ” As quickly as she could without spilling it, she took out the jar and tossed the whole thing at Gent. The memory water hit the captain’s face with a splash, and the ruined bullets clattered into her collar.
Instantly, Gent’s face went deathly pale. Her eyes jerked open wide and she gasped, stumbling backward. She went as rigid as a board and let out a horrifying scream. It was so loud and startling that it drew the attention of everyone nearby. Even Emma, who dearly wanted to run, couldn’t help gawking.
Gent’s guards rushed to their captain’s side, acting quickly to catch Gent as she tumbled backward and collapsed.
Emma knew this was her chance. Still woozy, she stumbled toward her friends. They were standing in a group, looking disoriented. They seemed to have gotten the last of the beetles out of their clothing, but they were covered in bite marks and bloodstains. Herbie was looking around for Emma.
Emma nearly tripped over Nisba, who was lying in a heap on the ground, just as pale as her sister.
“Herbie, over here!” Emma called. He saw her and motioned to the others.
Nisba was unconscious, but Santher and Herbie managed to hoist her up and carry her between them like a sack of grain. They moved into the crowd, still dizzy from the beetles’ poison. Fortunately, there were so many people in the plaza that it was going to be difficult for the navy to find them.
“What happened?” Santher asked.
“I threw the rest of the scupper water on Gent,” Emma explained. “And Nisba fell over too.”
“You threw the whole jar?” Laika gaped.
Emma nodded. “I had to do something. She was about to find the…uh…necklace in my shirt.”
“Oh.” Laika nodded. “Good thinking.”
“We’ve got to get to the Markab,” Emma said, checking nervously over her shoulder to make sure that no one was following them. They were hauling Nisba along as best they could, but they were getting some curious stares.
A shot rang out, and everyone ducked.
“They’re over here!” someone shouted.
They began to run, but it was difficult with Nisba’s limp body. Emma prayed furiously that the navy hadn’t found the boat, that they weren’t waiting at the dock. More scupper fire whizzed past as they ran alongside a giant catamaran and headed down the pier.
It was quiet there, and to their relief, the Markab was just where they’d left it. Emma raced ahead. She leapt onto the deck and went straight for the engine, digging in her pocket for the key, shoving it into the ignition, and firing the boat to life. Laika untied the rope and leapt onto the deck just as the others hauled Nisba on board. They set her down by the wheel.
“Hydra fire!” Laika shouted. “Get down!”
Everyone ducked as a shower of scuppers came tearing at the boat. Raising her head long enough to check that the coast was clear, Emma gunned the engine, and the Markab went shooting out of its slip. She spun the wheel to turn toward the harbor just as another round of scuppers hit the boat. Emma looked back and saw a navy sailor on the pier aiming a giant, nine-headed Hydra rifle at the Markab. It could shoot plenty of bullets into the air, but they didn’t go very far. The next spray fell short of the boat.
“I think we’d better head to the vostok bridge!” Santher said.
“Wait, no! We have to get my mom!” Emma cried.
“We don’t know what ship she’s on!”
Desperately Emma scanned the harbor around them. There were hundreds of ships, and she had no idea where to start.
The Markab’s engine sputtered and gave out. They’d been low on gas since arriving on Delphinus, and now it seemed it was finally gone.
“I’m letting out the sails!” Herbie said. Laika scrambled to help.
Santher, who was standing at the stern and watching the
navy activity behind them, cried out, “We’re going to need more than sails to get out of this!” Both Emma and Herbie spun around. “They’re sending a bunch of Muscan junks our way. Those are flying ships. They’ll be on us any moment.” He raced forward. “We’ve got to get her in the air.”
“No!” Emma said. “If we fly, we’ll never find Gent’s ship!”
“We certainly won’t find it from a navy prison!” Santher cried, starting up the generator.
Behind them, the Muscan junks were taking flight.
While Santher pumped the generator, Herbie and Laika unleashed the wing masts, extending them wide. The wings began flapping, and with a few great strokes, the Markab lifted into the sky.
The Markab was a remarkable flyer. It zipped over the harbor and reached the vostok bridge before the Muscan junks could catch it.
Emma looked at her friends and felt an overwhelming urge to shout: “WE HAVE TO GO BACK! I’m not going to let her die!” But the junks were still close behind. There were three of them, each with black sails puffed out like an insect’s carapace. Light in the air, their wing masts drove them swiftly ahead. Their bulging fore windows stared directly at the Markab like the horrid, immobile eyes of flies. Emma’s heart filled with bitter despair. They were going to chase the Markab straight out of Pegasus. Soon the whole navy could be coming after them—she could already see more junks alighting—and if they didn’t get away now and find a safe place to hide, every ship in the galaxy would be right on their tail.
But down there, somewhere in the harbor full of ships, was Mom.
She turned back to her friends and said in a desperate, quavering voice, “I need to go back. I’ll go by myself.”
“We can’t let you off now,” Santher said.
“They’ve noticed us,” Laika said, looking grim. “I know this is horrible, but you’ve got the Pyxis. If you go back there and they catch you, the Queen will have everything.”
Even as her heart roared in furious resentment, Emma knew they were right. There was no way to go back, and she had to protect the Pyxis.
The winds were stronger up here. Santher was pumping the generator so hard he was sweating. Laika was straining to keep hold of the wheel, and even Herbie was adjusting sails, despite his obvious queasiness with flying. Emma watched it all in disbelief, the thoughts in her head surrounded by a great, impenetrable wall of agony.
A cannon shot shook the Markab.
“They’re firing!” Santher shouted.
“Guys,” Laika said, “we have to get to the Argh. It has to be nearby. Nisba is injured—and the Markab is too small to fight this many ships!”
Emma turned from Fairfoot just in time to catch a vostok stone that Herbie tossed at her. Behind him was the vostok bridge, so large that it startled her. They were barely fifty yards away. Through the bridge’s thin screen, they could see the bright-blue waters of the Strand. There was a ship dead ahead.
“Eat the vostok!” Herbie called. Reluctantly, she slid it into her mouth. As the jelly coated her skin, she could hear the muffled sounds of shouting above the wind.
“I think that’s the Argh!” Laika said. “But it’s moving away from us!”
“What do we do now?” Herbie cried.
“Get to the ship as fast as possible—they’ll be waiting for Nisba, but they’ve probably seen us and they think we’re the navy!”
“Yeah, but I mean how are we going to land?”
“They’d better have the cargo door open!” Santher exclaimed.
With a whoomph, the Markab plunged through the bridge.
The Argh was straight ahead, and they flew madly toward it, the Muscan junks getting closer every second. One of them had nearly come in range of the Markab’s stern.
“Can’t this thing fly any faster?” Herbie cried.
Emma had taken over the wheel, and Herbie was helping Santher with the generator. Scupper shots rang out and everyone ducked.
“The cargo door’s not open!” Laika cried, pointing ahead at the Argh.
“Can we hail them?” Emma shouted.
“They see us!” she shouted back. “If the cargo door isn’t open in sixty seconds, we’ll have to land on the top deck!”
“The top deck?” Herbie screeched. “We’ll kill everyone!”
Arghs spun about in confusion as the Markab approached. People shouted and quickly ran for cover.
“Clear the deck!” Laika screamed below.
The boat crested the Argh’s railing and slammed into the deck. The reverberations knocked Emma off her feet as the Markab crashed and crunched and slid inexorably forward, tearing a massive gouge in the wood. It tilted, creaking, and a wing snapped off before it finally ground to a halt just a few feet short of the forward mast. It gave a last groan and fell to the side, its mast smashing into the railing with a terrible splintering of wood.
Just behind them, a powerful boom sent up a cloud of choking black smoke. The Muscans were firing their cannons at the Argh.
Emma and Laika had managed to hold on to the wheel, and Nisba had been buffered between the benches, but Herbie and Santher had gone skidding down the stairs and into the cabin. Emma and Laika scrambled to their feet just as Herbie and Santher climbed up through a broken window.
“Hurry, those junks are coming back!” Laika shouted.
“What about Nisba?” Emma asked.
“We’ll need some help to get her down!”
The four of them stumbled and slid off the Markab and onto the Argh, taking cover behind some barrels just as the Muscans swooped in for another pass. The small ships pounded the Argh’s port side with cannons. Explosions hit the railings and the hull, rocking the ship and sending up thick, lethal clouds of smoke. Screams came from below.
They ran down the deck, heading for the command room. Just as they reached the gallery deck, Lovesey burst through the command room door, shouting, “Arghs, prepare to fly!”
“We can’t, sir!” someone shouted. “The port wing sails were damaged in the last pass!”
“Well, get them fixed! Now! ”
Three Arghs raced off to do his bidding.
“Where’s Nisba?” Lovesey barked.
“She’s still on the Markab,” Laika said. “She’s unconscious, and we couldn’t get her down…. ”
Lovesey shouted at more Arghs to get Nisba off the Markab and take her below. Laika and Santher ran back to assist. “What happened to Nisba?” Lovesey asked.
“I threw memory water in her sister’s face,” Emma said.
Stricken by this, Lovesey went running toward the Markab, but Mouncey stopped him.
“Sir,” he screeched from the command room window, “the Muscans are back! And six more ships have just come through the vostok bridge!”
Lovesey rushed to the railing and leaned over. “How long until the wing is fixed?” he shouted.
The squawking of a dozen monkeys came up from the side.
“That’s too long!” he shouted back.
Another gaggle of squawks conveyed a mutual panic.
All was chaos as another troop of worker monkeys raced up the stairs. They carried canvas and ropes, and scurried over the railing and down to the port wing. Above, there was a screech, and Emma and Herbie looked up just in time to see half a dozen eagles leaving the aerie, each clutching a canvas sack in their talons. They dove ferociously, their bodies as sharp and rigid as metal projectiles. As soon as they got within range of the Muscan junks, they released their sacks, and the cannonballs fell, hitting the black ships violently. One cannonball landed in the center of a mast, cracking it clean in half. The junk tipped and began falling out of the sky. The Arghs let up a cheer.
“Garton, Yee,” Lovesey barked, “take cover somewhere!”
Emma and Herbie ran to the gallery deck and flew into the stairwell. Going down would take them to the dining hall and their old rooms; going up would lead them to the command room.
The minute they were inside, Emma turned to Herbie. �
�Are you okay?” she asked breathlessly.
“Yeah,” he said. He was still covered in wounds from where Gent’s bugs had bit him, and bloodstains were beginning to dry on his sleeves and collar, but he didn’t seem too banged up from the crash. “I’m all right. I’m sorry we didn’t get your mom.”
Suddenly they heard a shrieking. “Navy!” It sounded like Nelson, the spyglass. “Navy ahead!”
Emma and Herbie rushed up the stairs. They found the command room door open, so they went inside. It was a large space with windows all around and cubbies above, each filled with scrolled maps. In the center of the room was an enormous table, also covered in maps. Mouncey was at the wheel, and Nelson was bobbing frantically by the front window.
“Navy dead ahead!” he shouted.
“I know!” Mouncey cried in annoyance. “I can see too, you know!”
Emma and Herbie went to the window. Just ahead, a fleet of enemy ships was heading straight for the Argh. Emma’s stomach dropped, and she and Herbie shared a terrified look.
“They’re in front of us too?” Emma asked. “I thought all the Queen’s navy was back on Pegasus.”
“Maybe they were late to the meeting,” Herbie said, dry- mouthed.
Lovesey came bursting into the room with Arghs on his heels. He grabbed Nelson and studied the oncoming fleet.
They could make out a Leo vessel, the Zosma, a cousin to the Argh. Beside it were two Virgo men-of-war, their bowsprits carved with staunch Virgo women, peasant gowns and all. Without wings, they weren’t as speedy as the Muscans, but their masts were twice as high, and even from a distance it was possible to see the battery of cannons protruding from their sides.
Poking out of the water was a Cetan vessel, the Tunsley. Stout and dark green, it was shaped like a whale with a great square maw and a flat, water-smacking tail. Its rounded hull had a slick, scaly coat, as if barnacles had fastened to parts of its frame. Seaweed seemed to be dripping from its bow.
There was much to fear among the four ships. The Leo and Virgo crafts could blow a few holes in the Argh. And the Cetan vessel was solid enough to plow clean through the Argh, split her in half, and sink her in a moment.
