I gasped a little gasp, looking down at myself, fearing for a moment that I had forgotten to don a blouse, but no, all was well.
“I wouldn’t be a man if I didn’t,” he said, winking at Mr. Piper. “I mean, what man wouldn’t love the effect of a corset on a woman’s . . .” He made a gesture toward his chest.
I straightened up and glared at him.
“Although I thought you were supposed to wear the corset on the outside?” he continued, tipping his head to the side as he stared at my breasts. “Not that the lacy top isn’t pretty and all. It really frames your . . . er . . . breasts nicely. But every other woman I’ve seen had hers on the outside.”
“Her tits?” Mr. Piper asked, his eyes bugging out a bit as he, too, stared at my chest.
I hurriedly started buttoning up the long row of brass buttons on my coat.
“No, corset. You know how ladies are—they go to all the trouble of making a corset, and they want to show it off. Don’t blame them at all,” the stranger answered.
Mr. Piper considered me speculatively.
“I assure you that I did not make my corset, not that it is apropos to anything,” I said in a voice that sounded aggrieved. I never realized how many buttons the uniform jacket had until that moment. Both men watched with what seemed to be disappointment as I buttoned it across my breasts. Immediately after the last button was slid into place, I began to sweat under the effect of all that heavy wool bound tightly around me.
“Nothing wrong with an off-the-rack model, either. I bought a great Victorian frock coat that way, although I haven’t had a chance to wear it to any steampunk events yet. I don’t have much in line of a costume, to be honest. You know, I have to say that your modded gun is awesome. I’ve tried my hand at converting a couple of Nerf guns to something steampunk, but they never turn out. That looks really authentic. I particularly like the brass tubing. Can I see it?”
“Sir!” I said, perhaps louder than was strictly polite, snatching back the Disruptor that he had managed to take from me, so baffled was I by his speech. I pointed the gun at his chest, and donned my most austere expression. “I am bound by the laws governing the Southampton Aerocorps to inform you that you are under arrest for unauthorized presence on a ship under contract for imperial business.”
“Wow, you have the whole persona down and everything,” the man said, little lines around his eyes crinkling as he laughed a rich, deep laugh that I could swear I felt reverberating in my bones. I told my bones to stop being so susceptible, and frowned at the stranger. “That’s really great. And what about you?”
Mr. Piper straightened up as the man turned to him. “Piper’s the name. I’m bosun here.”
“Wait a minute—Aerocorps? Bosun? Captain?” He looked at me again, delight filling his mismatched eyes. “You’re an airship fan, too? I know a lot of steamy folk consider them way too overdone, but I have to admit, I’ve always had a fondness for them, and although I don’t have a persona, I always thought that if I did, he would have something to do with an airship.”
“Are you daft?” The words slipped out of my mouth without my brain agreeing they were at all right and proper to say, which of course they weren’t. I rubbed my forehead, a small headache starting to blossom there. “Sir, I fear we are talking at cross-purposes. Perhaps if we were to start with a few simple facts, we might proceed to those of a more strenuous nature. What is your name?”
“Jack. Jack Fletcher.”
I examined his face, mentally trying out the name. It suited him. He looked like a Jack.
His smile faded into a frown as he looked around. “Hey, where’s Hallie?”
“Would that be your female companion?” I asked, ignoring the prick of sweat that formed under my arms. I did not normally wear my coat buttoned except when required by protocol, and certainly not in the warm, airless confines of the hold.
“My sister. She was with me. I think. We were . . .” He touched his head as his voice trailed off, a puzzled look on his face. “We were talking about something.”
“Your companion is here,” I said, moving aside so he could see behind me.
With a cry of, “Hallie!” he rushed over to the prone woman. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing that we could see, although I must admit that we did not notice the injury to your head,” I answered, moving around the woman’s feet.
“Hal? Wake up!”
“Nrrng.” The woman frowned, licking her lips for a second before rolling over onto her side.
“Come on, Hal, make an effort to wake up.” Jack tried to roll her over, but she mumbled something incoherent as she slapped at his hands. He looked up from her to me. “What have you done to her?”
There was ire in his voice, ire and an unspoken threat. I straightened my shoulders. “We have done nothing but move you both from where we found you.”
“Found us?” He looked around again, his gaze this time taking in the visible contents of the hold, his expression growing more and more dark. “What the hell? Where are we?”
“You are in the forward hold of His Imperial Majesty’s Tesla, an airship that is under my command,” I said, allowing a little sting of irritation to sound in my voice. “Perhaps, Mr. Fletcher, you would be good enough to tell me how your sister and you happened to be found behind a crate of salted beef?”
“Jack,” he said, moving away to examine a crate of surveying equipment.
“Mr. Fletcher,” I repeated, a bit more forcefully, following after him as he suddenly jetted down a narrow aisle between crates. “Sir, I must remind you that I am armed.”
“Wow, this is really impressive. What is it, a warehouse?” he asked, pausing next to the salted meat, tracing the logo of the Aerocorps that had been painted on the wood. “I have to say, your group has gone to a tremendous amount of trouble to create an authentic setting.”
I cast a glance behind me to Mr. Piper, who hobbled over to us. “If you could please answer my question, Mr. Fletcher, we might be a little forwarder.”
He grinned at me, his laugh lines crinkling at me in a way that made my stomach flutter. With stern determination, I ignored the sensation.
“You even talk like something straight out of a Victorian book. Brava, Octavia.”
“Captain Pye,” I said sternly, taking a good firm grip on the patience that was fast slipping through my fingers.
“But Octavia is such a pretty name,” he said, winking at me. “It fits you well. This isn’t by any chance a film set, is it? I hadn’t heard through the grapevine that there was a new steampunk movie being made, but this—” He turned around, gesturing toward the stacks of crates in the hold. “This is really amazing.”
I gasped at the sign painted on the back of his undershirt, staring at it in disbelief. “You dare?”
“Satan’s stones!” Mr. Piper gasped, as well, as soon as he caught sight of it. “Aw, lad, and ye seemed like such a nice fellow.”
I leveled my gun at the man as he spun around. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “What do I dare?”
“Your arrogance,” I said through a tight jaw. “Well, at least we know what you are now.”
“I’m a nanoelectrical systems engineer,” he said, giving me a puzzled look. “I don’t see how that’s overly arrogant, although I have to admit to being labeled as a nerd once in a while. But usually the stories about Alaska and Mexico get out, and that reputation wipes out anything else. If I was to tell you that I was accidentally swept up in a group that hijacked a whaling ship, but had nothing to do with the whole thing, what would you say?”
“That you were a scoundrel, rogue, and the worst sort of adventurer,” I said, indignant that my inner workings seemed to be wholly at odds with my brain. For some inexplicable reason, the confounded Mr. Fletcher seemed to hold an attraction for me. Well, I would have none of it. I had not been the wisest of women in my choices of male partners, but I was not stupid. I would learn from my mistakes.
“Oh, man,” he
said, rubbing his face. “You’ve heard those absurd stories? I swear to you, I was just a victim of circumstance, nothing more. I’m not an adventurer. I’m not dashing and romantic. I’m not Indiana Jones.”
“But you are an airship pirate,” I said, gesturing toward the entrance to the hold with the Disruptor. “You will please return to your sister.”
“Airship . . . Oh, you mean my T- shirt,” he said, the puzzlement in his face fading into amusement. “It’s a band. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of them. They’re pretty good. You should listen to their latest CD—I bet you’d like it. It’s got some goth overtones to it, but it’s still very listenable.”
“Sir, I have had quite enough of your conundrums. You will return to the entrance now, or I will be forced to use the Disruptor.”
“Knock yourself out,” he said easily, looking interested. “Does it have working parts?”
My patience was gone. With a silent oath, I pointed the gun toward the edge of the crate nearest him, one containing uniforms, and fired. The weapon spat out a single pulse of charged aether, blasting the corner of the wooden crate into a thousand little slivers. The smell of scorched wood drifted back to me as Jack examined the results.
“That’s pretty impressive. Did you have one of those special effect squibs rigged to blow up?” he asked slowly, reaching out to touch the still-smoldering remains of wood. With a yelp, he jerked his hand back, blowing on his fingers as he looked up to me. “That’s hot. How did you do that?”
“Am I to assume, Mr. Fletcher, that you deny the fact you are an airship pirate when the sign on the back of your undergarment states the opposite?”
“I got the T-shirt last night at the concert,” he said, looking back at the destroyed crate corner. “It wasn’t a squib you used, was it? It looks like the wood was hit by a high-temperature bullet.”
“Pulse, not bullet. The Mark 15 Empyrean Disruptors use pulses of heated aether rather than bullets,” I corrected him. “And now I’ve had enough of this farce. Please return to your sister.”
“You really are taking this to quite a length, aren’t you? Well, I’m afraid that I’m not going to be able to play along with the whole thing much longer. I’ve got a lot on my plate today, and my boss will be on my back if I don’t get some things done. Hal? Wake up. We’ve got to get going.”
“Will you see to it that Mr. Christian has the brig arranged properly, Mr. Piper?” I asked the bosun.
He eyed Jack for a moment or two. “Ye sure ye’ll be all right with the blighted bastard?”
“Bastard?” Jack said, frowning at him. “Look, I don’t want to pick a fight with you, but I don’t appreciate being called a bastard when I haven’t done anything to deserve it.”
“I will be perfectly safe, Mr. Piper,” I reassured him, nodding toward the Disruptor.
“Aye, Captain.” Piper scurried around Jack, careful to give the younger man a wide berth.
Jack watched him go with a disgruntled look that he turned upon me as the door closed behind Mr. Piper. “OK, it’s just you and me and my addled sister, so you can drop the act. What’s going on here, Octavia, if that is really your name?”
“It is. I’ve told you repeatedly, Mr. Fletcher—you are my prisoner. It is you who seems to have trouble accepting that fact. There you are, Mr. Ho. I have been waiting some time for you.”
“My apologies, Captain,” the woman who was our steward’s mate said hurriedly, a bit out of breath. “I was up in the starboard stabilizing plane, helping Mr. Mowen. Dooley said someone was injured?”
Beatrice Ho, a slight woman of Asian descent, gazed at Jack with frank appraisal. Although I had been with this crew for only a few days, I had marked the steward’s mate out as someone I would enjoy knowing. She seemed a sensible young woman, hardworking, and knowledgeable in her job. I had no doubt she would rise in rank within the Aerocorps . . . but that didn’t explain why I was taken with an idiotic urge to shove her out of the room.
“Mr. Ho?” Jack asked, giving her a considering look.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
“It is a custom in the Aerocorps to refer to all members of the crew in the masculine form, regardless of gender,” I said, annoyed with how stiff my voice sounded. I would not be influenced by this scoundrel! “It is an archaic rule, I agree, but we are bound to follow the traditions of the Corps, and thus Miss Ho is referred to as Mr. while she serves on board this ship. Mr. Ho, this gentleman’s sister is indisposed. She appears to have no injuries, but I would feel more comfortable if you were to examine her.”
“Certainly.”
“Mr. Fletcher, perhaps you would step out into the gangway while Mr. Ho works,” I said, gesturing toward the door.
Jack gave the steward a long look, then nodded and opened the door, waiting for me to go through.
“You will precede me, please,” I said, fighting the urge to brush back a lock of his hair that had fallen forward on his brow.
“For God’s sake . . .” He went through the door, stopping abruptly just beyond it, moving only when I gave him a gentle shove between the shoulder blades.
“Good God in heaven . . .” His voice held an odd mixture of awe, surprise, and disbelief as his head tilted back, his gaze going upward.
“Is something the matter?” I asked, trying to hold on to a shred of patience. I had to admit that one part of me was dying to know what outrageous thing he would say next. What came out of his mouth wasn’t at all what I expected.
“This is an airship,” he said, spinning around to face me as he gestured toward the aluminum girders and struts that made up the framework containing the balloon envelopes. “It’s really an airship.”
“What did you expect?” I asked, confused by the honest astonishment visible on his face. I searched his eyes, but found nothing there but profound surprise.
“But . . .” He turned slowly in a circle, his gaze darting from the balloon envelope directly above us to the six others that spanned the length of the airship. “But this is real. It can’t be, but it is. I’ve never seen anything like this before in my life.”
“You’ve never been on an airship before?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“No.” He turned back to me, his gaze earnest as he took my free hand. “Octavia, what’s happened to me? How did Hallie and I get here?”
I stared at him, not wanting to believe the evidence before me, but I couldn’t deny the truth—he was genuinely confused.
“I wish I could answer that, but I cannot,” I said, strangely touched by the way he clung to my hand as his gaze rose once more to the supporting structures of the airship. “But we will find out, Mr. Fletcher. You may rest assured that we will find out.”
Sing Hallelujah, C’mon Get Happy
“I don’t understand, Jack. I just don’t understand. Ex-Ip lain it to me. Explain how this could happen to us!”
“I don’t know exactly what happened to us, Hal.” I held my sister in my arms, more to keep her from running amok and possibly hurting herself than to comfort her. She was too distraught to gain comfort from anything but a serious dose of Valium.
“I know what it is.” Hallie pushed back from me, her face tight with suspicion. “You’re having me on, aren’t you? This is some great big elaborate joke you’ve concocted to pay me back for selling you at an auction. Well, it isn’t going to work, Jack. You and your skinny little buddy there aren’t going to make me believe we’re in some sort of weirdo fantasy world. I don’t know how you got me onto this blimp, or whatever it is, but I want down now. I have a lunch date with a really fabulous personal trainer, and I’m not going to miss it because you’ve dreamt up some grandiose practical joke!”
“It’s not a joke,” I said. “It’s real. This ship is real. This guy is real. Er . . . what was your name again?”
The tall, skinny kid who looked like he was about twenty, with slicked-back red hair and the vaguest hint of a mustache, straightened up and cleared his t
hroat. “I am Aldous Christian, the chief officer on His Imperial Majesty’s Airship Tesla.”
“Nice to meet you, Al. I know Octavia told you to keep an eye on us, but is there somewhere else we can go other than this cabin? I think my sister needs to see a bit more of the ship.”
He frowned. “The captain didn’t say anything about you leaving the cabin.”
“Then she can’t mind if we do,” I pointed out, taking Hallie by the arm. “Come on, Hal. This is something you have to see.”
“I think the captain meant for you to stay here—,” Al started to say, but I had other plans. I pulled a lead-footed Hallie out into the corridor, and up a curved flight of stairs, stopping at a landing that was open to the main part of the airship. “There. See?”
She looked around, her expression bored. “It’s a movie set.”
“Not even close.”
She shook her head. “It has to be. Where did you get the sort of money to rent a whole movie set, Jack? That has to run to thousands, especially with the actors you had to hire to go with it.”
“Such a skeptic,” I sighed. “Hey, Al, is there a window somewhere that Hallie can look out? There’s no way she can say we’re on a movie set if we’re a thousand feet in the air.”
“There’s the observation platform, but we’ve landed in Marseilles to fill the boilers,” he said.
“Maybe that’ll convince you,” I told Hallie, taking her by the hand and pulling her back down the stairs. There had to be an exit somewhere on the lower level of the ship.
“What, more sets? Not even close. And stop pulling me around. I want to go to lunch with Luis and admire his abs.”
“Sir! Mr. Fletcher! You can’t do that!” Al the officer said, running after us. “The captain wouldn’t like it at all. No one is allowed off the ship while we’re taking on water.”
“There has to be some sort of an entrance down here,” I said, dragging Hallie down another flight of stairs with me to the area where we’d woken up. “If this is a cargo bay . . . ah, daylight!”