Chapter 6
After dinner, Captain Mack sent for Gunner and had Lil take Nita to the boiler room for her first official task as a crewman: feeding the boiler. The young crewwoman led the way to the storage in the belly of the ship, chatting along the way.
“You still seem jumpy, Nita. Why’s that?” Lil asked.
“Are you serious? I’ve had my life threatened by all of you. You pointed a gun at me!”
“Had to make sure you didn’t do anything we all might regret is all. No harm meant, and no harm done.”
“Is this really so common for you that you don’t see how horrible it is to hang something over someone’s head like that?”
“It’s just the world, Nita. Just the way things are. Besides, you’ll be fine as long as you lend a hand and don’t cause any trouble. Ah, here we are.”
She slid one of the heavy doors aside to reveal a room crowded with coal bins, as well as a stack of cloth-wrapped bricks of what looked like clay.
“Every hour we take four big buckets of coal up to the boiler room and dump them into the firebox, and one of these here bricks,” Nita explained, pulling down the first of four buckets from their hooks on the wall and scooping it full.
“What is the brick?”
“It’s… uh… well, to tell you the truth, it’s got this big, fancy name, all sorts of chemicals and like, but we just call it burn-slow. You toss it in with coal and it—”
“Makes it burn slowly?” Nita ventured.
“Now you’re gettin’ it! These things cost a bundle. The fug folk make ’em, just like everything else these days, but we got to buy ’em anyways. With one of these in the firebox, we only need four buckets an hour. Without one, we’d need to shovel the stuff pretty much without rest. Couldn’t hold nearly enough coal to get this ship to Caldera and back.”
“Who are these fug folk who seem to have achieved such wonders?” Nita asked, scooping some coal into her own buckets.
“They’re just a bunch of these twisty folk who live down in the fug. Real smart bunch, but not the friendliest folk. Real pale skin, skinny, tall, always hunched over. Probably smelly, too, livin’ down in the fug and all.”
“What is the fug?”
“You really don’t know much, do you?” Lil said. “The fug’s this deep purple stuff that’s choked out most of the lowland in Rim. Nasty stuff. Can’t breathe in it for more than a minute before you stop breathin’ altogether. When Cap’n goes down to buy stuff, he wears this big mask, but even with that, you can’t spend more than a day or two in the stuff before… well, before it’ll make you wish you hadn’t.”
“It sounds horrible. Where did it come from?”
“Who knows? Before my time, but they say when it showed up, it took almost all the people from the lowlands with it. It ain’t all bad. There’s some fug in these lights here on the wall. You run some phlogiston through fug and it lights up good and bright. We call these phlo-lights. Even so, I hate the stuff. It’s half the reason I’m out here in a ship. Good fresh air. Of course, the problem is Cap’n Mack takes such good care of his crew that I don’t figure I’ll ever get to move up higher than deckhand. Deckhand’s just a fancy word for a person who does everything.”
“Where I work, they call people like that a free-wrench. That was my job.”
“So you and me are pretty much the same then. I feed the boiler when Gunner’s on watch. I clean up the galley when Butch is sewing someone up. I…” Lil trailed off, her eyes turned aside as she listened. “Wailers.”
“What?” Nita asked.
“Wailers! You’ll hear them in a minute. We’ve got to get on deck!”
The pair dropped their buckets and rushed to the nearest ladder. Before they reached it, the ship changed direction suddenly and forcefully enough to throw even Lil against a wall. A steam whistle began to blare and the captain’s voice bellowed out. “Wailers on port and starboard! All crew on deck!”
“What are wailers?” Nita asked, following Lil up the ladder.
“You’re about to find out. Do you know how to use a rifle?”
“No!”
“Well, then you’re on hook detail. They’re going to shoot grapplers at us. Don’t let them get on board! And keep your head down!”
They scrambled onto the deck just as the captain heaved the ship into another tight turn. A distant moan filled the air, drawing nearer every moment. It sounded like a low, continuous howl. Coop and Gunner were already on deck, each with firearms. Coop had a hunting rifle, but Gunner’s weapon was truly massive, with two stout barrels and three lenses arrayed along their length.
“There!” Gunner called out. “Two on the port side, heading this way.”
Nita pulled down her goggles and looked to where his weapon pointed. She spotted two shapes approaching faster than seemed possible. As they drew nearer, she could make out some details. They were airships, but vastly different from the Wind Breaker. They were tiny, the gondolas little more than metal tubes just large enough for two riders. The envelopes above each were thin, shaped like flattened pills. Behind the gondolas, single propellers spun fast enough to produce a terrifying wail, no doubt the source of their name.
Gunner fired his weapon with a thunderous blast. The force of it threw him from his feet, but his aim was true. A cloud of shot shredded the balloon above one attacker and sent him spiraling into the sea below. Coop tried to level his weapon at the second attacker, but a sequence of dull thuds sent him into a wild retreat. A row of five-inch nails traced their way forward.
“Behind the barrels, Coop. Behind the barrels!” Lil yelled, taking her own advice by sliding behind the relative safety of a trio of lashed down barrels on the deck. Nita dove after her.
“What are they? Pirates?” Nita cried.
“No, raiders,” Lil said, drawing her revolver.
“What’s the difference?”
“Pirates rob you and kill you, raiders kill you and rob you.” She readied her weapon. “It’s a big difference, trust me.”
Another row of nails, fired from a vicious-looking contraption mounted on a third wailer attacking from the starboard side, peppered the deck.
“They’re trying to kill us, not attack the ship. We just have to hold them off for a few minutes. Those little ships run out of steam real fast. Down!” Lil commanded.
A blur of hooked metal hurled through the space previously occupied by their heads, then tumbled across the deck. Lil planted a foot on Nita’s back and heaved her out of the way in time for the grappling hook to reach the end of its rope and scythe back toward them. It bit into the barrels and tore them free, then splintered itself into the deck and held firm, yanking the ship lightly to one side.
“Get that hook out!” bellowed the captain as he maneuvered the ship into another sharp turn that caused one of the other attackers to score a glancing blow with his hook, rather than a direct one.
As the turn straightened out, a powerful thump sounded from below decks and the ship began to lose speed. The intensity of the moment gripped Nita, and suddenly the thinking part of her mind once again gave itself over to the acting part. There wasn’t time for fear or reason, just the task at hand. Whatever that sound had been could wait. The hissing salvos of nails were a distant concern. The only thing that mattered right now was getting the grappling hook free. She slid to a stop where it had lodged itself into the deck, yanked one of the cheater bars from her belt, and wedged it beneath the rusted iron of the hook. The barbed thing was well planted, but she’d had more than her share of experience fighting with stubborn valves and levering sections of pipe into place. Three good heaves tore it free and sent it skipping up and away.
“There’s still two of them! And keep your eyes open for the main ship, if these things are still buzzing this fast, the mother ship has got to be nearby,” Gunner called out. He planted himself and unloaded the second barrel of his gun, but failed to catch either of their remaining attackers. There wasn’t any time to reload it, but for Gunner that was
n’t a problem. There was always another gun where that came from. He threw open his coat and pulled two pistols with barrels nearly as large as the shotgun.
The deck was in utter chaos. Whatever had slowed the ship had cost them most of their maneuverability, and without the speed and turns to keep the wailers constantly readjusting, their attacks became more frequent and more accurate. Dagger-sized nails cut through the air from both sides as the tiny crafts strafed the ship. Coop cried out as one of the spikes slashed across his arm.
“Brother!” Lil screamed, rushing heedlessly across the deck to her stricken sibling.
“Another hook, ready to fire!” Coop yelled as Lil helped him to the shelter of the stairs to the captain’s quarters.
Nita turned to see a hook streak across the length of the deck and drop across the other side, pulling taut and chewing into the side of the boat. Even from her vantage point, Nita knew the hook was well out of reach. She wouldn’t be able to dislodge it from the hook end of the rope. As the attacker continued on his strafing path, the rope swept across the deck, sliding along the top of the railing and catching her across the stomach before she could drop below it. She was dragged backward across the deck until the rope struck some of the rigging that held the gondola to the envelope, bringing it to a sudden stop and sending her sliding along the deck until she struck the next strut along.
The blow dazed her, but not enough to knock the sense of purpose from her head. She rushed back to the rope and fumbled for her knife. In the steamworks there wasn’t much call for it, so she didn’t keep the short blade in any of the more accessible places. As she fought for it, she noticed a regular jerk and vibration to the rope, and looked aside to see that the wailer ship was reeling itself in on a small winch. It gave Nita her closest look yet at the craft, revealing two pilots seated one in front of the other. The pilots were nothing like the crew of the Wind Breaker. Rather than dressing in what was very nearly a uniform, the two men were dressed in layered and mismatched clothes, heavy on buckles, leather, and improvised metal armor. The only things they both wore were padded leather helmets with built-in goggles, and maniacal bloodthirsty grins. The one in the rear seemed only to have the flight controls to worry about, but the foremost raider had a mounted grappler on a pivot, and a chain-fed spike gun in an immobile, forward-facing mount. As the grappler reeled in, the spike gun drew toward her.
She finally managed to pull her knife free and slice the rope just as the gunner fired his first shot. The brief burst of nails came close enough to tousle her braided hair behind her head, but with the rope cut, the sudden loss of tension caused the wailer to spin wild. While the pilot was still righting his craft, Gunner slid to the railing and unloaded the monstrous pistol, tearing through the vehicle’s balloon and sending both riders plummeting.
“Mother ship sighted! Lil, Gunner, I want both forward cannons loaded! I’m taking these scoundrels out of my sky!” the captain ordered.
Lil and Gunner disappeared below decks, leaving the captain and Nita as the only able-bodied people on deck. A distant and familiar thump drew Nita’s eyes upward to where the remaining attacker had fired its grappler. The hook tangled in the rigging, high over Nita’s head and well out of reach, and immediately the gunner began to reel his craft in.
Nita thought quickly. She’d never be able to reach the hook, or even its line, and she didn’t have a weapon. Her eyes darted about, first to the spinning prop of the attacker, then to the rope running across the deck from the previous grappling attempt. Acting more out of instinct than inspiration, she grabbed the rope and gathered up as much as she could as she worked her way across the deck. By the time she reached the opposite railing, the wailer was near enough for her to hear the two pilots barking orders to one another. She snatched up a dislodged chunk of wood the size of her forearm and quickly knotted it to the end of the rope, gave it a twirl, and heaved it toward the attackers that were now nearly overhead. Her aim was true, and the rope crossed the propeller, instantly tangling. The wailers’ ship was yanked downward and twisted hard aside, dumping both pilots. One missed the ship and fell to the sea. The other struck the railing and held firm.
The ship was turning ponderously now, angling itself toward a larger airship that was partially obscured by a cloud in the distance. Nita had to throw herself to the deck to avoid the wild, riderless wailer ship that was still winding its prop more and more tightly and pulling it toward the deck as it did. When she got to her feet, she found that the surviving rider had wrestled his way onto the deck. Heavily armed, he held a saber in one hand and a revolver in the other. Still running more on instinct than common sense, Nita drew one of her cheater bars from her belt again and launched herself at the attacker. The surprise of the sudden attack managed to thump her attacker hard on the shoulder, but he recovered quickly and fired his weapon. Nita saw it coming and stepped aside, but a follow-up attack from his saber clashed against her raised bar with enough force to knock her from her already unsteady stance. He pointed his pistol, and, for a moment, Nita believed her end had come. Then came a call from the captain.
“Fire starboard cannons!”
Deafening thunder rang out, and the whole of the ship jerked aside as if struck. The force of it sent Nita’s attacker stumbling back toward the railing and nearly threw him overboard, but he held firm. Out of the corner of her eye, Nita saw a burst of greenish gas as the wailers’ main ship began to plummet. Her main attention remained on her own threat as the man recovered and raised his pistol once more. A second, quieter crack filled the air and the wailer jerked backward, dropping his weapon and cupping his hand to his chest. Another crack split the air, and the man, stricken, finally went over the side. Nita swept her eyes across the deck until she spotted Coop, smoke still drifting from the barrel of his rifle.
“Direct hit! Gunner, Lil, back on deck, now!”
Just like that, the battle was over, though not without its costs. The turbines above were sputtering and out of rhythm. The largely intact wailer craft lay splayed across most of the central stretch of deck, its envelope now dangling from a single line and leaking a stream of green vapor, its steam fans grinding. Before the fiery rush of battle could fully subside, Nita hurried to Coop to help him to his feet.
“That was quite a shot, Coop,” Nita said. “Are you all right?”
“Been worse, ma’am,” he said, handing over his rifle and investigating the gash on his arm. It was shallow but long, and bleeding copiously. “Dang it. This here’s my favorite shirt. My favorite arm too.”
Lil appeared from below decks and ran to her brother’s side. “Big brother, move your fingers for me. Come on now.”
“I’m fine, Lil. Nita and I held the deck just fine.”
“You all right, Nita?” Lil asked, looking her new crewmate up and down.
“I think so. A little bruised, but nothing serious.”
“You handled yourself pretty good, I’d say. I knew you wouldn’t end up going over the side. And you didn’t turn green even once while you were up here.”
“Turn green? From what?” Nita asked. She looked about, then locked her eyes on the horizon. “Oh… oh dear…”
For the first time, the frenzy had died down enough for her brain to process her surroundings beyond a knee-jerk threat assessment. On the previous day the shifting of the deck and the realization of their altitude had been enough to make her sick amid a barely discernable haze. Now the sky was clear, and they were over a thousand feet high. The part of her mind trained to recognize beauty thrilled at the sight, a ring of endless sea in all directions, the sky a brighter blue than she’d ever seen it, and cottony clouds so near she felt she could touch them. Unfortunately the part of her mind charged with self-preservation, already stretched to the limit with the battle and shakily coming back to normal, wanted no part of this view or any other that wasn’t firmly rooted on solid ground. It seemed determined to voice its displeasure in much the same way it had the day before.
“I think I’m going to—” she began, stumbling toward the railing.
“Belay that, Ms. Graus. There’s still a job to do,” Captain Mack barked.
Nita flinched, first wondering how he could possibly believe he might be able to order her digestive system to behave, then wondering why it had seemed to work.
“Cap’n, permission to take him down to Butch,” Lil said.
“Do it,” the captain said.
“When did this happen?” Gunner called from behind them, circling the remains of the wailer craft.
“I didn’t have any weapons, and their grappler was out of reach. I had to improvise,” Nita said.
Gunner nodded in appreciation. “I always did want to get a look at one of their fléchette guns!”
“Indulge your weapon lust later, Gunner. I want a complete list of all damage, inside and out. Take Ms. Graus with you. Teach her a thing or two. Lil, once you’ve seen to Coop’s arm, I want you up here on lookout. It wouldn’t be the first time we encountered two wailer ships at once. And I don’t like the way the turbines sound. I’ll have to stay at the wheel. It is going to be a fight keeping this ship on course. You have your orders. Move.”
Free-Wrench Page 7
