Complication
Page 17
They heard an explosion and the timbers of the Aggregate shook violently.
“What was that?” Debora asked, rushing to the side of the ship.
“We’re taking fire,” a twin said.
Glen’s camp was not far off on the horizon. Several rows of specialized wagon-mounted cannons were set up and pointed at a high angle in their direction. They saw smoke rise from them, a moment later came the sound of the blast, another moment passed and the ship shook again.
Regat busted out of his cabin door, his flask in hand. “What is this ruckus that dares to bother my drinkin’?”
“Cannon fire.”
“Impossible,” said Regat. “We are too high.” He hobbled across the deck on his wooden legs. They were hit again and a splash of his drink went overboard. Regat snarled. He barked some orders to his non-existent crew. “Take us higher, men.” Then he pushed away from the side to work the switches and knobs of the panel outside his cabin himself.
“Do those work?” Michael asked. “Do those actually do anything?” Captain Regat snarled at him. Michael didn’t let up. “I’m just wondering, because, it doesn’t feel like we’re rising.”
“It’s an airship,” Regat said, “not an elevator. We are plenty high enough, they must have some pretty advanced artillery.”
A cluster of small cannon balls struck the front of the ship and splinters of wood went flying. They shielded their faces with their arms.
Debora brushed the remnants from her jacket. “Can we fire back?” she asked.
“The Aggregate hasn’t had any weapons since it was decommissioned,” Captain Regat replied.
“Great, we’re sitting ducks,” Michael said.
Just then, they heard a hiss. Collectively, they looked up.
“That’s not good.”
“Remain calm, it’s but one compartment,” said Regat.
Michael sputtered in disbelief. “Remain calm? Our balloon is popped.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Debora said. “It’s more like a bunch of balloons, hundreds of compartments of air. We can take a few hits and be alright.” As she finished, a second and third hiss started, both louder than the first. “I hope.”
The blimp took a few more hits and began to show visible signs of shrinkage.
Cannon fire peppered the starboard side and the Aggregate rocked like it was on a stormy sea, making them struggle to keep their footing. The experience was sickening and the hissing was deafening. The blimp above them was a mere wrinkled up version of its former self.
“Do something, Captain.”
“Ah indeed.” Captain Regat took a long, slow gulp. “That is some fine drink,” he declared, then he crammed his flask into an inside pocket. He looked up at the bottom of the blimp and examined its condition. “It’s not good, men. Fire up the auxiliary engines.”
“An engine, yes, finally,” Michael said.
Captain Regat threw a switch that started the emergency engines and they roared to life with the sound of strong wind. Rotors and blades slid out of the hull and began to turn. “That will only buy us some time,” he howled. “We still need to abandon ship.”
The front riggings, weakened by the cannon fire, ripped free with the sound of bursting wood. The entire ship tipped forward sending its loose contents skidding and tumbling down the deck. They all tumbled with it, toppling over themselves, catching hold of whatever they could. Michael kept a strong hold on the punch-rod, jabbing it into an eyelet of a cargo ring on the deck.
“Emergency vessels are aft,” Captain Regat yelled. He led the way, climbing back up the deck using the side rails, cable holds, anything he could grab. The team followed behind.
The emergency vessels were no more than wicker pods with parachutes attached. They climbed in and tightened their straps. Captain Regat came behind them, pulled a lever and released the pods. The tiny white orbs dropped one by one, away from the Aggregate.
“Why didn’t you tell us about these, last time,” Michael asked, “before we went ski diving?”
Regat stuck his face into Michaels pod. “Because, they are for emergencies only.” He pointed a gnarly hand at a red placard that read just that. Michael slipped the rod beneath his thighs and fastened the straps around his shoulders. He slapped the open seat next to him. “Jump in Captain.”
“Don’t insult me,” the Captain said, “I belong among the pieces of the Aggregate. He gave a sly wink and pulled the lever that dropped Michael’s vessel off the ship. As he did, chains on the starboard side clanked free of their links and the ship lurched, tipping in that direction.
Only several chains connected the hull of the Aggregate to its deflating blimp, all of them in the rear and back port side so that the ship all but dangled nose down. Captain Regat held tight to the rail and eyed the length of the deck. He could see the back side of his cabin. He let go and fell half the length of the ship to the back wall of his quarters, and landed with a breathless thud. He stood and wedged his foot against the portal window for support and took in the view as the ground came up toward him. He fished out his whiskey and took a last gulp, swallowed hard.
“From rocks and stones to rocks and stones.”
The Aggregate hit nose first into a large pond. The water did nothing to soften the blow and Captain Regat went sailing forward like a clumsily thrown harpoon. The ship continued forward too, its back end coming over itself, landing upside down, partly in the water and partly out. With slow, long creaking noises, it began to tip, finally rolling to its side with a crash like a giant restless beast, making a wave that crossed the pond three or more times before all was still and quiet.