give me one more good reason to pop you in the jaw and I’ll make sure you never carry another conversation without a paper and pencil.”
We spoke to each other out of the corners of our mouths, all the while standing at the railing, smiling at the crowds and giving them the occasional wave or thumbs-up. Vilaris and Chaz had gotten used to my animosity toward Blaylocke over the previous weeks. I didn’t like the guy, and I’m not the type to pretend I like you unless there’s something in it for me. I couldn’t put my finger on what I found so abrasive about him. I just knew I hated his face and everything that came out of it.
“Cool off, Muller,” said Vilaris, eyeing me. “We’re not even off the ground yet and you’re antagonizing him already.”
“I’m getting an early start,” I said. “You gotta run laps before you can finish the marathon.”
I wasn’t sure where we’d find our future crew, of course. Most of the sailors I’d worked with were my father’s men now. My poor Ostelle was on the Regency’s payroll, commissioned to hunt thieves and wanted men like me.
We’d thought ahead in that regard. Chaz, Vilaris and Blaylocke had made themselves honorary techsouls at my behest, in secret from their friends and families. Techsouls and primies look alike until you get under the skin, so I’d shown the haberdasher how to make techsoul clothing. The pants had velcro panels in the inner thighs, the shirts and jackets had flaps that opened down the shoulders, and the boots had heel and toe ports. My companions were still human weaklings underneath it all, but at least they wouldn’t stick out like ticks on an albino. As for rustling up a real crew—it was time to find out if I had any true friends left in this world.
4
Airships like The Secant’s Clarity are nothing like streamboats. In a streamboat, the only way you’ll ever fall out of the sky is if you lose your driftmetal runners. You’re more likely to get an unwanted dose of ‘up’ than one of down. An airship, on the other hand, is just a big bubble. And bubbles can be popped.
In my capsule at the fore, I hunkered down over the controls of The Secant’s Clarity as we rose toward Pyras’s protective cloaking field. Through the wide glass panes that Chaz had assured me were unbreakable, I could see out from the belly of the beast in every direction but behind me. The crowds below were sending us a deafening farewell. Far above the nearflow’s dark maelstrom, a pure blue sky awaited us.
Chaz had suggested we each take a section of the controls to divide up the work, but that could wait until we hit clearer skies. He’d designed the ship so a single person could control everything from one seat in case the need arose. Since my reflexes were faster, and since I didn’t have the patience to shout out my orders and wait for them to be followed, I decided I’d shoulder the burden myself.
As soon as the topmost portions of our craft breached the dome, I began to feel the vibrations from the debris smacking the gasbag’s envelope like fingers flicking a rubber balloon. Did anyone in Pyras consider the implications of flying an airship through a hailstorm of magnetic stones, or is there somebody down there who wants us to fail? Chaz didn’t strike me as the type of guy who would’ve overlooked this in his design, but I supposed it was possible. The even more disconcerting thought was that if someone had planned to put us in an unsuitable ship as an act of sabotage, they were probably going to get away with it. Was that why Yingler hadn’t wanted to meet me? Quit being paranoid and fly the blasted thing, I had to tell myself.
Wind hammered the Clarity and threw us into a tilt. The entire craft leaned so far sideways I could’ve waved to the crowds without bending at the waist. When I passed through the cloaking field, the roar of cheering voices went silent. All I could hear in its place was the nearflow’s skirling. I could only imagine the peoples’ cheers turning to gasps as the wind swept us up like a broom over a breadcrumb. I struggled for lift while the nearflow spit rocks at my windows. The air was as thick as dirt, my companions gathered around me and clinging to the girders like a pack of stranded rats. Vilaris and Blaylocke were grim-faced; Chaz was equal parts terror and nausea. It made me laugh. That was probably because I was all kitted out with new tech now. I didn’t have as many reasons to be afraid as they did.
“You’ve got to take her higher,” Chaz managed to shout above the din. “The exterior skin can only take so much punishment.”
“I’ll get us there,” I yelled back. “Keep your crotch in your chair and let me fly.”
I flicked my pedals and took us hard to port, letting the nearflow push us instead of trying to fight against it. I could’ve made a nice tight turn in a streamboat like my Ostelle, but the best I could do in this tub was wobble in a lazy arc as the stone-laden wind buffeted us. The windows sounded like they were about to burst, the constant tap-tap-tap of smaller rocks interrupted every now and then by the whack of a stone the size of a melon. I thought I was going to stomp the port-side turning pedal through the floorboards by the time we finally straightened out so the nearflow could wash us along in its tide. I turned the elevator wheel, watching the dials on my instruments quiver and spin.
“Watch your ballast gauges. We’re flying too heavy,” Chaz sputtered.
“Would you like to take over, or are you gonna shut up and let me drive?” I lifted my feet off the pedals and raised my arms into the air, like I was hanging from a set of stirrups.
“Drive,” they all shouted.
I got back down on the controls, shaking my head and swearing to myself as the airship shuddered. Buncha sissies. I’d get us out of this—but as usual, I was going to do it my way. I hit the engines full speed and level, pushing us downwind. With the nearflow at our backs, the engines were getting blasted. I could hear the metallic clanging of the propeller blades slapping rocks aside. One sharp stone at just the right angle was all it would take before we’d find ourselves dealing with irreversible damage. Soon the ship began to falter and lag behind the speed I needed to reach to escape the nearflow. The torrent was so strong it was stunting the propellers’ rotation.
Chaz’s airship came with a few surprises, though. Surprises I’d had the foresight to ask him about previously. Now that we had some momentum, I cut the engines to prevent them from taking further damage. Then I opened the front ballonet valve, letting air out of the forward-most of the two internal sacs designed to act as counterweights. We nosed up while the wind pushed us forward. Soon we could see clear blue above us, and I twisted the rear ballonet valve open to level us out.
We had almost cleared the nearflow when there was a loud snap. The whole cabin shook and tilted forward. Anything that wasn’t bolted in slid to the fore and clattered to rest in the window well. Chaz fell too, lost his seat as the cabin tilted vertical. He tumbled down head-first, slamming hard onto the glass. My heart skipped like a stone, boots slipping off the pedals as my weight shifted forward. Through the windows I could see in startling detail how high we’d risen. The airship’s entire undercarriage was dangling from the balloon like a thumb pointing down from a fist, the nearflow pelting it even as the balloon itself ascended to cleaner air. Lucky the engines were cut, or they would’ve been pushing us downward.
“What the blazes do we do now, genius?” Blaylocke screamed, his ire directed at Chaz. Blaylocke was still in his chair, scrabbling for purchase and unused to his techsoul footwear. Vilaris had managed to climb around behind his chair and was clinging to the back of the seat.
Chaz didn’t respond. Loose junk and a spatter of blood decorated the window below him. His unbreakable glass was the only barrier between himself and gravity. The rocks pinging the bottom of the hull were lessening in force now. The windows were caked with dust, obscuring the outside world in a dull brown film. The floor was sloping forward at around sixty degrees, I guessed. At least the ship was still rising.
I’d seen plenty of airships travel between drift-towns, but I’d never seen one take off from the surface and climb all the way through the nearflow and into the stream. There was one problem inherent in our current situation, wh
ich I was now coming to realize: there’s no way to put eyes on what’s above you when you’ve got a pudgy balloon in the way. Being the genius was Chaz’s responsibility, not mine. So naturally, I beseeched him for advice.
“Chaz, you alright buddy? We need you. Stay with us, huh?” I called down loud and firm, clinging to my seat.
Chaz blinked. I hadn’t noticed the awkward positioning of his body before he blinked. I heard him take in a deep breath. Okay, I told myself. Time to put some of this fancy new tech to good use. I spun halfway around and slid down to him, scraping to a halt on the retractable toe and wrist spikes he’d designed, leaving deep gouges in the deck.
“Chaz, ol’ buddy,” I said. “It’s about time we found someplace to land. You with me?”
He looked up, groggy and half-awake. I was reaching toward him, my upper body anchored by one wrist spike, when the ship quaked. I heard something rasping along the canvas skin of our balloon, and I knew we must’ve run into the bottom of a big floater. The balloon was dragging us up the rocky underside. If it burst, we had seconds—seconds, before we dropped out of the sky.
Chaz took my hand. I hoisted him to his feet, my hydraulics hissing to afford me the strength. When