by Steven Bohls
“We don’t have three minutes,” Lyle said. “We don’t even have one.”
The ceiling snapped above them. A sliver of light appeared as a patchwork piece of bulkhead was pried open. Dread fingers poked through the slit.
“Do the rear thrusters work?” Jed asked.
Lyle gave him a dismissive look. “We need to go up, not straight ahead.”
“We can ride the river until the dragonflies fix the lift thrusters.”
“Maybe he’s right,” Zix said. “My dragonflies sealed this ship up tight. We might have a few leaks, but nothing that’s going to drown her.”
“Punching the rear thrusters could send us nosediving into the river,” Lyle said.
The bulkhead panel above them ripped away another few inches. The dread continued pulling, slipping their arms through and trying to grab someone—anyone—below. They laughed maniacally at each groan and squeal of the ship’s framing as they pulled it away.
“We need to move,” Jed said, ducking. “If we wait for the lift thrusters, we’re going to die.”
Lyle turned to Zix. “Do it.”
Zix yanked a lever and a whoosh erupted behind them. The Endeavor shot forward, flinging off the dread. They continued straight, even though the river veered sharply left. Zix twisted another lever, and the Endeavor responded. The oil’s current helped direct their makeshift boat forward as Zix worked the controls with lightning speed.
“One problem with your plan,” Lyle said to Jed. “This river empties off the edge of the barge. We’ll be free-falling in less than a mile.”
With Lyle’s words, Zix’s retractable eyes extended slightly, as if focusing extra intensely. He pulled levers and pushed buttons, and the lift thrusters sputtered, jostling the ship from side to side as they tried unsuccessfully to again lift the train into the air. One of Zix’s hose-shaped eyes swiveled, glancing at a gauge on the control panel. The gauge had an electricity symbol underneath a dial, and the red needle on the gauge was rising slowly toward the 50 percent mark.
Jed peered out the window of the train again. In the darkness ahead, he could see the edge of the barge. A great wall of dark smoke. The fog.
He squinted at the boundary. “I don’t see a cliff,” he said. “Are you sure it’s there?”
Lyle and Zix looked at each other, but neither answered Jed.
Faster and faster they sped toward the wall of fog.
“Five percent more and I can engage lift thrusters,” Zix said, watching the needle crawl from forty-five to forty-six percent. “We just need a little more time.”
Forty-seven percent.
“Come on,” Lyle said, his voice pleading with the energy gauge. “Come on.”
Forty-eight percent.
A loud snap echoed from the back of the train. Engines whined, and steam hissed from a series of pipes along the walls. The needle on the energy gauge plummeted from 49 percent to 15 percent, where it remained steady.
“N-n-no…” Zix stammered. The vivid green light from his eyes dimmed, as if his own energy supply had drained instead of the ship’s. “No.”
“What happened?” Lyle demanded.
“One of the ion batteries ruptured under the stress.”
“Isn’t there something you can do?” Jed asked.
Zix slowly shook his head. “Give me three days and a half dozen junk runs, maybe.”
“Can’t we stop the train?” Jed asked.
“All we have operational are the rear thrusters,” Zix said. “The Endeavor weighs nearly two thousand tons. That’s four million pounds. There’s no stopping her.” He sighed in defeat, slumping down in his chair. Sirens squawked and warning lights flashed, but Zix was no longer pulling levers or pushing buttons at the control panel.
The train sped forward, unstoppable, toward the edge of the barge, and then they punched into the fog.
Jed
The Endeavor shot off the edge of the barge and through the wall of fog. A bright orange sky lit the world ahead.
The river of oil was no longer beneath them. In fact, nothing was beneath them—only open air and a distant, blurred pile of junk.
The energy gauge dropped to 0 percent. For a moment, the ship hung motionless in the air. Zix clicked the starter, but there was no response. “There’s nothing I can do,” he said.
Jed’s stomach felt like overcooked noodles.
Then the train began to fall.
The spark of an idea popped to life in Jed’s mind. It was crazy, but crazy things seem a lot less crazy when the other option is smashing a flying train into a giant junkyard. “Keep trying,” he said to Zix before rushing from the cabin.
“Where are you going?” Lyle called after him.
As Jed bolted toward the engine room, the corridor began to tilt under him. The train was in a free fall. The ship rolled in the air, and then Jed was running on walls instead of floor. Soon, he reached the door to the garden cabin and flung it open.
The train tilted upward in its spin. The door at the end of the corridor was now directly up. The train car was vertical. Lemons and peaches fell from their trees, pelting him. Jed climbed as quickly as possible, using the trees for grip. He realized with a sudden sickness that there was no way he would make it in time. Not at this pace, anyway.
“Come on,” he said to the train. “Just turn the other way.”
Slowly, the train continued to rotate end over end, until, as he’d hoped, up was now down.
The cabin door he needed was right below him. He released his grip on the branch he was holding and fell toward it, the impact of his landing jolting through him. He pried open the door at his feet and stared at the greenhouse cabin—straight down from where he stood. Plants and soil showered the corridor.
Sucking in a breath, he dropped into the opening and fell the entire length of the greenhouse. Once again, he crashed into the next door, crumpling into a heap from the pain of the impact. The loose soil barely softened the landing.
One more cabin, he told himself.
He opened the door at his feet and jumped.
Soaring through the mess hall, he landed hard for the third time, but when he opened this door, he saw it—the ion engine.
As Zix had suspected, the ion battery had blown its circuits. Their charred remnants clattered around the engine core in dead, blackened chunks. They’d blown away from the copper lines that now dribbled with sparks.
“This better work,” he said aloud, sucking in a nervous breath.
Jed dropped to the engine core, pulling off his shirt and exposing his golden gears and golden keyhole. He remembered the searing heat inside himself in the iron forest, but he didn’t hesitate, grabbing both copper lines and plugging their bare ends into the hole in his chest.
Jed’s body shuddered as the ship drank his energy.
Lights flickered.
His vision wobbled and darkened.
But then, the deep growl of the engine core hummed back to life.
Jed’s legs were weak, and he could barely stand. The thirsty engine depleted his energy until he was too dizzy to think. He tipped forward on the engine room floor and collapsed.
Jed
Jed stood on a flat green hilltop under a bright blue sky. Fields of lush grass surrounded the view, and at his feet, heaps of diamonds sparkled in the radiant sunlight. They sat in mounds, like piled snowdrifts, brilliant rainbow flashes of color glinting in their depths. He stared transfixed, and then he picked one up. Its crystalline shape bent the sunlight, sending bright sparks of light outward.
“Where am I?”
He thought of the Endeavor plummeting through the air, and he remembered plugging the wires into his chest. I’m dead, he thought. Or I’m dreaming. But it felt like he belonged here, wherever here was. Or I’m home.
A black shape emerged on the horizon. It wobbled as it drew closer. Dark smoke chugged from its exhaust valves, staining the perfect blue sky with oily clouds. It creaked and squealed as its insect legs dragged it
closer. Jaws opened. A shriek pierced the air.
It wants the diamonds, he realized. No. They’re mine.
Another shriek shot toward Jed.
“No!” Jed yelled. “Go away!”
It continued forward.
“Get away!” Jed yelled again.
Stomp.
Stomp.
Stomp.
Heat burned inside Jed. He stretched out a hand. “No!” he shouted. A bolt of power shot from Jed, knocking the creature down the hill.
Jed sprang up, his eyes wide open. He wasn’t on the hilltop or the engine room anymore. He was in the med box, back in the Endeavor, his chest throbbing with pain.
Something crashed against the far wall.
Lyle.
He’d slammed into a set of supply shelves.
“What’s going on?” Jed asked. “Are you okay?”
Lyle stood and stumbled in the mess of medical supplies at his feet.
The med box door opened. Zix peeked in, his eyes swiveling in two different directions. One eye found Lyle and the other found Jed. “What happened?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Lyle said. “Everything’s fine. Go back to your post.”
“But—” Zix began.
“Now,” Lyle snapped.
Zix nodded and left. “Aye, sir.”
Jed stared at Lyle. “So, what did happen?”
Lyle cleared his throat. “You plugged yourself into the ion battery. You saved the ship, but you took some pretty bad burns to your chest.”
“It worked?”
Lyle nodded. “You’re lucky you’re not dead. That battery could have melted your gears into a pile of clunk.”
“I figured we were going to die anyway, so taking the risk didn’t really matter, right?” Jed shrugged.
“Well, you’ll need a bit of medical care, but you should be all right.”
Jed glanced at the mess of supplies on the floor and the broken shelf on the wall. “How did you end up over there? You know, on the floor. Covered in scrap.”
Lyle cleared his throat again. “I was making sure you were okay after the incident with the battery, and…something happened.”
“Something happened?”
“It was probably due to the fact that you plugged yourself into a ship’s engine core.”
Lyle’s voice sounded off, but Jed couldn’t pinpoint why.
“But you flew across the room.”
“Yes.”
“And that doesn’t seem a tiny bit weird to you?”
“I told you, you were built with incredible powers. When I was checking on you, your body reacted.”
“Okay.”
“You should get some rest,” Lyle said.
“I’m not really tired. Just hungry.”
Lyle nodded. “I’ll have Alice check your wounds. If everything looks okay, you can join me in the kitchen.”
Jed thought for a moment as he looked at Lyle. “You built her, right?” Jed asked. “Alice, I mean.”
Lyle nodded. “I built all of the dragonflies. You know that.”
“Then why don’t her legs work? Can’t you fix them?”
“Some wounds can be fixed. Some can’t. You might have noticed; she’s a lot more gears and scrap than many of the others on this train. When I found her body, she’d suffered a terrible death. I performed what repairs I could, but there’s only so much a gearsmith can do. I did bring her back to life after all. Even though there wasn’t much left of her.”
Jed nodded. “I know. I just wish there was something you could do.”
Lyle rested a hand on Jed’s shoulder. “Rest. Alice will be around if you need anything.”
• • •
Alice cringed as she pulled away the bandaging. “I’m sorry. Did that hurt?”
Jed shook his head, wincing. “No. It’s not you. It just hurts all over.”
“This should help.” Alice held up a small vial in her free hand. “Aloe. It might sting a bit, but I promise it will help.” She tipped the bottle, and cool droplets splashed onto his blistered skin. “That was incredibly stupid, you know,” she said. “Plugging yourself into the ship.”
“Thanks?”
“Anytime.”
Jed tried not to move as the oil spread across his wounds.
Alice replaced the old bandage with a new one. “Is it helping?” she asked.
“I think so.”
“Good. Because we’re going to need you.”
“For what?”
“That’s classified.”
Her metal face drew into a kind smile before she turned and left the room. Jed was alone once again, listening to the soft hum of the Endeavor’s ion engine. Thoughts of Shay and Ryan drifted through his mind. Were they still looking for him? He closed his eyes and pictured them. As he did, his mind felt like it was stretching beyond his head. It stretched further and further like a giant bubble. Dull images flickered through his eyes as if they weren’t shut at all. The longer he focused on Shay, the more her consciousness bonded with his own until he was once again inside her head.
Shay
The scritchmice dragged Shay and Ryan from the deck of the small shuttlenought onto the gangplank now docked against the massive dreadnought of Captain Swillface Clunkrucket.
“Hope yer ready to get boiled, Princess,” the leader scritch said with a sneer.
Shay nodded once. “Quite ready.”
The dread marched them across to the dreadnought’s deck. Mobs of dread eyed them as they walked. Ryan chewed on his bottom lip, but Shay wasn’t afraid of a bunch of scritchwhelps. Whoever this Clunkrucket was, he probably thought he was the ickiest, scariest, meanest, biggest, rottenest, scoundreliest, scritchiest scritchmutt in all of Scritcherdom.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Ryan mumbled to her.
“Nope. No idea,” Shay said.
Ryan’s face went blank. “Um…oh.”
The dread pushed them forward toward the captain’s quarters. Two guards stood at the entrance.
“Got a little snack for the captain,” the dread leader said.
The guards exchanged smiles, then nodded for them to proceed.
They opened the door, and standing before them was the ickiest, scariest, meanest, biggest, rottenest, scoundreliest, scritchiest scritchmutt in all of Scritcherdom.
“Ugly Mouse!” Shay screeched, wriggling free from the ropes that Fumbly Mouse still hadn’t gotten right.
Captain Bog’s mouth opened. “Shay?” he said, his voice wavering.
She rushed into the room and plowed into him, wrapping her arms around his barrel chest. “Yep. It’s me!”
Captain Bog grinned at her. “I can’t believe it’s you,” he said, shaking his head. “How did you find me?” He looked around the room. “Is Jed with you?”
Shay shook her head. “Jed broke. Just a little.” She held up her thumb and index finger a half an inch apart from each other to show just how little. “But then he ran away, and now he’s lost.”
“He’s alive though?”
“Yep. Alive and broken,” she said cheerily.
Bog looked past Shay and squinted at Ryan. “I know you from somewhere.” Before Ryan could respond, Bog tapped a finger in the air at him. “Ah yes. The etchings we posted in every township for thirty sunfalls. You’re—”
“Ryan.”
Bog nodded, as if now recalling the name. “It seems you folks have got a bit of a wandering problem. First you and Mary mosey off to who-the-clunk-knows-where, and now Jed’s gone, too? One of you really should buy a compass. Or maybe all of you. Or how about you just hold hands whenever you leave the house. Or all the time.”
“Yeah. I get it,” Ryan said, irritation in his tone.
Bog smirked.
“How about we change subjects?” Ryan said. “For starters, what in sun-roasted-slug-clunk is happening here on the barge?”
Bog’s smirk widened. “Ah. You must be referring to my little campaign.”
�
�Campaign?”
“The No-More-Traitorous-Dread-King campaign I started. It’s quite popular.”
“And by ‘popular,’ you mean ‘a full-scale war’?”
Bog shrugged. “Not bad for three weeks’ work, eh?”
“I’ll say,” Shay said approvingly.
“These clunkheads are easier to manipulate than a wad of slug snot,” Bog said. He picked up an empty can of creamed corn from the ground and chucked it at one of the dread standing guard. The can bounced off the head of the guard, who straightened his spine and saluted Bog.
“Aye, sir?”
“At ease, you gnarled knot of scrap. Oh, and did you know you look like a washing machine that got stepped on by a house?”
“Yes, sir!” the dread said, saluting again.
Bog just rolled his eyes. “See what I mean? It doesn’t exactly take the intellect of an airship engineer to get these bolt-brained maggots to do what you want.”
“How much of the dread fleet do you control?” Ryan asked.
“As of today? About seventy-five thousand. But”—he shrugged—“they’ll switch allegiances at the drop of a hook. Can’t trust the bunch of ugly buggers.” Bog motioned to the dread guards. “Go patrol the hallways or something.”
The dreads nodded and walked out of the room, shutting the door after them.
Once they were gone, Bog turned to Ryan. “To be honest, they’ll probably only follow me until I help them shoot down their former dread king. Whenever they question my authority I just remind them of the traitorous clunk-bucket we’re hunting, and they seem to forget that I don’t actually have any real authority. Scrap-brained slug lickers.” He sighed. “So, what’s your story, then?” he asked Ryan. “Where were you all that time we were posting etchings of your pretty mug around the yard?”
“I was stowed away on Lyle’s ship. I hid there in case Lyle found Jed.”
“Lyle? You mean the former dread king?”
Ryan nodded. “Long story short, after Jed showed up, Shay and I ended up on a life raft.”
“Not before blasting my ship to scrap,” Bog said.
