Take Back the Skies

by Lucy Saxon

  The vibrations increased, and she could hear the engine pumping steam through the pipes in the wall to power the propellers, a hissing sound joining the roar of burning tyrium and the loud creak of the wings being unfurled. Faintly she heard shouts from the rest of the ship. She was filled with excitement until the wardrobe door opened suddenly. A pair of amused pale blue eyes stared at her.

  ‘I thought my wardrobe floor looked a little lumpier than usual. Who might you be, then?’ he asked. She placed him as the commoner who had been with the guards earlier. Unable to speak, she merely stared up at him, wide-eyed. She had never seen someone with such red hair before.

  ‘We’re already airborne,’ he informed her, pulling his desk chair over and sitting on it backwards, propping his chin on the back and staring at her. They were up already? It had been amazingly quick! ‘So who are you, and what might you be doing in my wardrobe? I assure you, it’s not the finest place in the world,’ he added with a wry grin, making Catherine giggle, despite herself.

  ‘Cat –’ she began, cutting herself off quickly with a cough. Telling him her name was Catherine would be a very obvious indicator that she was not, in fact, a boy. ‘Just Cat,’ she finished, making the effort to deepen her voice somewhat, letting her accent loosen. She couldn’t go around speaking like a government brat. ‘I … I just need to get away.’

  The boy eyed her contemplatively. He looked about sixteen or seventeen, she guessed, and the awkwardness about his long-limbed frame suggested a recent growth spurt. A faint ginger shadow graced his purple-smudged jaw.

  ‘Well, Just Cat, if that’s what you want to call yourself,’ he said with a smirk, clearly aware that this wasn’t a real name. ‘You’ve succeeded. This ship is heading straight to Siberene. Is that far away enough for you? The Collectors won’t find you there, and you look the age, just about.’ His piercing blue gaze travelled over her in a way that made her want to cross her arms over her chest.

  ‘Are you going to leave me in Siberene?’ she queried before she could stop herself, hating how scared she sounded.

  ‘We might do. That’s usually how it goes with the kids we smuggle out. Depends how entertaining you are,’ he answered, his smirk not faltering for a moment.

  ‘I’ll have to be at my wittiest, then, shan’t I?’ she replied easily, and he smiled.

  ‘I think we’re going to get along just fine, brat. You can call me Fox. Are you going to be getting out of my wardrobe any time soon?’

  She shrugged.

  ‘I don’t know, it’s rather comfortable in here.’

  He let out a short bark of laughter, swinging a long leg over the chair and reaching out to grab her by the wrist, pulling her out of the wardrobe and on to her feet. He was a good head taller than she was and this made her feel even more of a child than usual. Pausing, Fox eyed her appraisingly. ‘You must be freezing in just a shirt – here.’ Reaching into the wardrobe, he pulled out a thick knitted jumper, tossing it at her. The dark blue wool was soft and well worn, and Cat didn’t argue at the gift, pulling it over her head. It swamped her, and she had to roll the sleeves up three times just to see her hands.

  ‘Blimey, you’re a short ’un,’ he teased, making her blush.

  ‘Leave off,’ she muttered in annoyance, ducking out from under his hand as he attempted to ruffle her hair.

  ‘Ooh, touchy. We’d better introduce you to the gaff, make sure he lets you stay. He might toss you overboard like the last one.’

  Fox turned to leave the room, and Catherine stared after him in alarm.

  ‘You’re joking, aren’t you? You wouldn’t really throw me overboard? That would be murder!’ she protested. She hadn’t thought what might happen if the crew didn’t let her stay. He chuckled as she chased after him, seeing that she had to take two quick steps for every one of his long strides.

  ‘No, throwing you overboard would merely be displacing you from the ship – the water would do the murdering.’

  ‘Don’t be such a brute,’ she told him with a scowl, which only made him chuckle harder.

  ‘Lighten up, shortie. You’ll never survive if you take yourself so seriously. Where you from, anyway? ’S not every day we get stows. Not even the bravest of little boys have the balls to dare escape Collection, so what’s your story?’

  Forcing herself not to blush at his words, she shrugged.

  ‘I guess I’m just braver than most,’ she replied evasively. She needed to think of a story before she could tell him anything. What would be believable? They scrambled up the ladder, and Catherine stumbled as the ship rocked violently for a moment. The sudden movement didn’t faze Fox, who braced himself easily against the lurching, then walked on.

  ‘You’ll get used to that,’ he assured her.

  ‘So what’s the captain like?’ she asked curiously, quickening her pace to keep up.

  ‘He’s a decent sort. Bit loud at times, but he’s a nice bloke. Been travelling since he was younger than me,’ he explained, pulling open a door to their left that Catherine knew from her earlier exploration led to the control room. There were two other men in the room now who looked up when Catherine and Fox entered. One seemed a little older than her father, she thought, in his late thirties perhaps. His hair was steely grey, and he had a neatly cropped beard covering his cheeks and chin. His brown double-breasted coat was done up to his throat with shining buckles, and a neat white shirt collar peeked over the top of it. A black leather hat was perched jauntily on his head. The other man, sitting at the wheel, was much younger, early twenties, maybe, and somewhat baby-faced, with a smooth jaw marred only by a twisted scar on his left cheek, and honey blond curls falling into his hazel eyes.

  ‘I didn’t know we had another crew member,’ he remarked quietly, one hand resting cautiously on the wheel. ‘He looks a little young.’

  The bearded man snorted, raising a bushy eyebrow at Fox. ‘We don’t, as far as I remember. Where’d you find this one, lad?’ he asked.

  ‘My wardrobe. Seems he managed to slip past those morons who were searching it. I thought I’d let you decide whether to throw him overboard or not,’ Fox replied calmly.

  The panic must have shown on Catherine’s face because the older man laughed heartily.

  ‘Don’t scare the poor sprog! He’s petrified enough as it is. What’s your name, kid?’ The man directed a warm smile towards Catherine, who smiled back unsurely.

  ‘He calls himself Cat,’ Fox answered for her before she could speak, his scepticism clear. The blond man laughed, and the grey-haired man raised both eyebrows.

  ‘First Fox, now Cat? What is this, a sodding menagerie?’ he muttered to himself, but didn’t question her chosen moniker. ‘I’m Harry, lad. Captain of this fine skyship. Which, I might add, I don’t remember giving you permission to board,’ he added with a stern look. ‘Better to ask forgiveness than permission – but you’d do best to tell me exactly why I shouldn’t get Ben here to turn this ship around and drop you right back in Anglya where you presumably came from.’

  Catherine’s eyes widened in alarm, and she took a step forward.

  ‘Please, sir, don’t take me back. I won’t survive if I go back there!’ That was probably true. She was almost certain her father would kill her for running away if he ever set eyes on her again. ‘I heard there’s going to be another Collection next week!’ Again, true. Just not necessarily relevant to her. ‘I won’t be a bother if you let me stay. I’m a fast learner. I can work wherever you need me, even if it’s scrubbing floors or feeding the furnace! Just don’t take me back to Anglya!’ Catherine turned her shining grey eyes on the older man. His face softened and he sighed, rubbing at his beard.

  ‘I suppose we can take on one more. We’ll have to see how good you are around the ship. And the government won’t miss one child this Collection, will they?’ he mused, the weathered skin around his eyes crinkling. ‘But if you’re not up to scratch, we’ll let you go in Siberene. There’s no dead weight on this ship.’

/>   Catherine beamed, fighting the temptation to hug the man in gratitude.

  ‘Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down, promise,’ she declared. Harry clapped her on the shoulder.

  ‘That’s the spirit, lad.’ He pulled a pocket watch from his coat. ‘Not long until supper. Enough time for you to get cleaned up and shown around.’ He glanced over at the man at the wheel. ‘This is Benny, by the way, Benedict Talbot. He’s our pilot.’

  Benedict gave her a small wave and a reserved smile.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, and she replied with a grin.

  ‘Fox, show our new boy around, would you? Let him have the room two down from yours. I’ll talk to the missus and try to persuade her another sprog can’t hurt us. And get her to change the bedding.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘I’ll bet you don’t have anything other than the clothes on your back, do you, Cat?’ Harry asked.

  She shook her head. She wouldn’t tell him about the purse of money in her trousers; she didn’t trust them enough for that yet.

  ‘Well, we have plenty of Fox’s clothes from when he was your age and I’m sure they’ll fit fine. I’ll see if I can persuade Alice to dig them out. Go on, then, brats, run. Don’t let the new one get lost, Fox,’ he added sternly.

  ‘I would never do such a thing,’ Fox replied, feigning outrage. ‘Come on, then, Cat. Let’s make this quick. I’m meant to be helping Matt with the engines.’

  Catherine scurried after Fox as he hurried out of the control room.

  ‘So, that was Ben and Harry,’ he said. ‘You’ve only two others to meet – Matt, the engineer, and Alice, Harry’s wife. Alice is a proper sweetheart. Be nice to her, or you’ll get storms from Harry. Matt’s a cheeky sod, but all right. You’ll see.’

  ‘It’s just the five of you?’ Catherine asked, surprised. ‘I thought you’d need more people for a ship this size.’ From what she could remember, there were thirty crew members on each of the small government ships, and about a hundred on the larger ones. Her father had once told her that some trade ships had up to three hundred crew members and were practically a small town in themselves.

  ‘We probably do. We get by just fine, though,’ Fox told her with a shrug. She wondered how long he had been on the ship. She didn’t dare ask, however; maybe she’d try when they were a little friendlier with each other. ‘This level is controls and storage,’ he continued. ‘And the trap topside. Level below is crew quarters, washrooms, galley, and a bit more storage. Below that we’ve got more storage and the engines: that’s where Matt and me spend most of our time. And bottom level is just storage.’ Catherine nodded, surprised that a ship this size had four levels. She’d only anticipated three.

  ‘So what is the ship for? I can’t imagine a pleasure ship with that much storage, and I definitely can’t see you getting a permit.’ Pleasure permits were solely for the incredibly wealthy. Her father had one, but he rarely used it, as he deemed travelling unnecessary. As far as he was concerned, everything important would come to him rather than the other way around, and if it didn’t come to him, then it clearly wasn’t important enough.

  Fox’s lips twisted into a devious smirk, and his eyes sparkled mischievously. Catherine unconsciously leaned closer, curious to know what could cause such amusement.

  ‘Well, that’s where things get interesting.’ Fox paused. ‘Not that I should be telling you this until Alice gives you the OK. But you look like you can keep a secret.’ He raised a questioning eyebrow.

  ‘Course I can,’ Catherine said. What could they be hiding?

  ‘Well, I suppose you’ll figure it out sooner or later,’ he relented. ‘As far as the government knows, we’re fur traders shipping from Siberene. With the storms getting more active over the past year or two, not many ships are willing to make the journey there. Especially not the bigger trade ships. But we’re small enough to nip round the bigger tornadoes with Ben at the wheel. The man can’t half fly,’ Fox said with no small amount of admiration in his voice. Catherine smiled; there were obviously strong bonds between the crew of the Stormdancer. The storms worsening was news to her, though; she never paid much attention to weather reports. She barely knew the difference between storm classifications, and the bigger ones hadn’t come close to Anglya in years.

  ‘And what do you do, really?’ she asked shrewdly.

  Fox’s grin turned wolfish.

  ‘We may or may not fill the lowest level – which doesn’t exist in the ship’s registered blueprints – with items monitored under rationing. And we may or may not happen to misplace those items among the needy of Anglya.’

  Catherine stared at him, realisation dawning. ‘You’re smugglers!’ she gasped. How did they get away with smuggling goods so blatantly? They docked in the city shipyard and everything!

  ‘Any problems with mildly illegal business?’ Fox asked, dropping down the narrow manhole, then stepping aside so Catherine could do the same. ‘Because if so, we’ll drop you off in Siberene and leave you to make your own way. You wouldn’t be the first kid we’ve smuggled out – though it’s usually because their parents ask us to. We don’t usually keep them.’ He smiled wryly, and Catherine smiled back.

  ‘No problems.’ Catherine resumed the thicker accent and low-pitched tone she practised on her excursions to the common areas of Breningarth. ‘You’re helping people and that’s an admirable thing. Most people I know are just happy to look after themselves.’ She thought of her father and his associates, who laughed at the poor and hungry from the comfort of their grand homes. She hadn’t been able to sit for days the one time she’d dared give a copper to a common girl even younger than she was. ‘How do you do it without getting caught, though? Aren’t the guards meant to check every ship after it docks and before it leaves?’

  Fox shrugged.

  ‘Kid, nine out of ten guards at the Breningarth shipyard don’t give a rat’s arse about what we’re smuggling – they’re not even looking for goods. Their job is to stop anyone smuggling people. That’s what they get their bonuses for. The smuggling we do is a lot easier than you’d think – it’s just that most are too scared of the punishment to bother trying.’

  The punishment for smuggling was either death or forced conscription, which tended to result in death in any case.

  ‘And you aren’t?’ she challenged, raising an eyebrow. He looked at her, a sort of sadness in his eyes, masked with amusement.

  ‘Why would I be scared of a punishment I know isn’t likely to happen?’ he answered. ‘It’s like being scared of a storm that never comes.’

  ‘It has happened, though. People have been executed for piracy plenty of times before,’ she argued.

  ‘Well, for a start we’re not pirates. Pirates attack other ships. And those people were stupid. The key is to fade into the background, become part of the scenery. Don’t give people a reason to question you being there, and they won’t think you suspicious.’

  Catherine conceded the point, then frowned.

  ‘Are there more of you? Smugglers, I mean.’ She imagined a whole network of people working beneath her father’s nose, and couldn’t help but grin. It was just like one of her fantasy books. ‘Lots of people bringing in goods to help during rationing?’

  ‘If there are, we haven’t found any,’ Fox replied with a shrug. ‘And they don’t work the same areas we do. But Breningarth is a big city. For all we know, there could be dozens more. Good luck to them, if there are. But either way, we work alone.’

  He gave her a look that put an end to her questioning, though not to the thoughts racing through her mind, and they continued the tour.

  ‘This is the washroom and there’s another one at the other end of the hall. Next door is the loo, and opposite is the linen cupboard. Next to that is my room, as you know.’

  Catherine blushed at the pointed look Fox gave her. ‘Over here is the galley,’ he told her, pushing against a thick oak door with his shoulder. The air immediately filled with the scent of food. ‘We take all our meals in he
re, and you can usually find Alice in here. If not, she’ll be next door in the laundry room.’

  Stepping a little closer to Fox to peer through the open door, Catherine was surprised at the amount of space in the galley. With two long wooden tables, they could have easily seated about twenty people if they wanted to. There was a door at the back that she assumed led to the kitchen.

  ‘Do I get to meet Alice now?’ she asked.

  Fox grabbed her by the back of the collar, hoisting her into the corridor.

  ‘Alice is not to be interrupted while cooking except in the most dire of circumstances. Wait until supper,’ he told her.

  Fox shut the galley door behind him, leading her further down the hallway.

  ‘That’s a spare room, which is currently used for storage. And that’s your new room,’ Fox declared as he pointed to the two doors beside his own. ‘Keep it clean and don’t attempt to put a lock on the door. Harry will have your hide,’ he added with a grimace. He pushed the door open, allowing her to stick her head in for a look. It was similar to Fox’s room, just without all the clutter, and while it was drastically smaller than her room back home, she rather liked it.

  ‘Brilliant. What about everyone else?’ she asked curiously.

  ‘They’re around the corner,’ Fox explained. She followed him down the U-shaped corridor, peering around at the four doors located there. ‘Harry and Alice’s room, other washroom, then Ben’s room and Matt’s room. Stay out of here – they take shifts and sleep odd hours.’

  ‘So what will I be doing? You seem to have everything covered rather efficiently.’

  ‘Matt will keep you busy. We’ll just have to hope you’re good at things, I suppose,’ he teased, causing her to bristle in affront.