Skybreaker

by Kenneth Oppel

  They were tentacles.

  Billowing from behind the ship’s fin was an enormous squid-shaped creature. Its upper body was almost translucent, a rippling sac that could easily have been mistaken for a weather balloon were it not for the green and blue bundle of intestines contained in its gelatinous lower regions. Trailing from its undersides were countless whiplike tentacles, some of which had been snagged in the rudder’s hinged joint. The creature’s body swelled, puckered, swelled again, as though breathing, and its tentacles flexed and thrashed in vain against the ship, trying to free itself.

  I shouted a warning at Kami, but he too had seen the creature and was frantically backing up. I moved as quickly as I could, making room for his retreat, afraid of the full reach of those tentacles. No fewer than five were whipping around near the stern now. Two hovered overhead, their tips quivering, as if sniffing out prey.

  “Look out!” I shouted.

  Kami unhooked his safety line so he could move faster, and leapt. The tentacles struck in tandem, one lashing him across his lower legs, the other just missing. There was a crack as a spark of lightning leapt from Kami’s feet. Face twisted in pain, he crashed down, rolled, and began sliding off the ship’s back. His numb hands tried to grab hold of something but were too weak. I rushed for him as he went over the side, but was too late. Kami fell and landed hard on the ship’s horizontal fin. In his current state, I feared the wind would blow him off.

  Immediately I started rappelling down after him. High above me, the airborne monster was still thrashing against the rudder, but I seemed beyond the range of its tentacles. For the first time I felt the thinner air at twelve thousand feet. I was breathing hard, and my muscles felt pulpy. I was only halfway down to Kami when I reached the end of my safety line. It would let me go no farther. I unhooked myself and left my line dangling. Carefully I started climbing down. I couldn’t have done it if Slater hadn’t caged his ship with alumiron filigree. It gave me good hand- and footholds. A blast of wind pushed hard at me, and I pressed myself tight against the hull. When it let up, I kept going. I got to the fin and crouched beside Kami. His eyes were open.

  “Can you climb?” I asked him.

  “I can’t feel my legs.”

  I let out a long breath.

  “I’m going to get a line on you, and then you can use your hands and I’ll pull from up top.”

  He nodded wearily. I took the end of his safety line, clipped myself to it, and scaled the ship’s hull as fast as I dared. Halfway up I reached the dangling end of my own safety line, and clipped it to Kami’s. I now had a single line running from Kami to the safety rail on the ship’s back. Very cautiously, for I had nothing to stop me if I slipped, I kept climbing, watching the creature’s thrashing tentacles. I reached the ship’s back, exhausted. Double-checking the safety line, I looped the rope twice around a mooring winch.

  I cranked, reeling Kami in. Luckily he was light. I kept one eye on the squidlike monster snagged in our rudder. I was still out of its range, but I was worried it might tear free at any moment. With both hands, I worked the winch, watching Kami’s painful progress. He tried to help pull himself up, but he was weak, and when I finally dragged him alongside me, I was soaked with sweat and shaking with fatigue.

  I was wondering how best to get Kami back to the crow’s nest when Slater emerged from the hatch. He saw our huddled bodies and hurried toward us.

  “What’s happened?” he bellowed into the wind. “Where’s Dalkey?”

  “Overboard!” I shouted back. “There’s an animal caught in the rudder!”

  “What in God’s name…” Slater said, staring at the writhing creature snagged behind the fin. Suddenly it elongated, and the gelatinous membrane around its lower regions gave a violent contraction. The tentacles thrashed in tandem, and all at once the creature soared up and was free, and was quickly left in our wake. I felt limp with relief.

  “Let’s get him inside,” Slater said to me.

  We each took a side and, crouched over, started carrying Kami toward the crow’s nest. We hadn’t taken five steps when I noticed, dead ahead, vague splotches of green and blue. I blinked, thinking I was seeing things, but my eyes were not lying: a whole colony of squid-shaped translucent sacs, puckered and undulating, was drifting straight for us.

  “Look!” I shouted.

  Slater saw them, and we doubled our speed, desperate to reach the hatch. The creatures were nearly upon us, hastened by the wind. But I could see they were not just drifters: that they had their own means of propulsion, opening and contracting their membranous aprons in sync with their tentacles. They jetted through the air at an odd slant, their long tentacles trailing far below them.

  Staggering and breathless, we reached the hatch.

  “Get in!” Slater shouted.

  “Get Kami in first,” I said.

  The first of the creatures sailed overhead now, its tentacles swishing past no more than ten feet overhead. I felt its wake, a warm humid wind, tinged with the scent of mangoes. More were coming, many sailing lower than the first.

  Slater hoisted Kami onto his back and swung the two of them into the crow’s nest. There was no room for me until he started down the ladder. My heart raced. In my peripheral vision I saw something shift, and ducked as a great fleshy tentacle whipped past my face.

  I jerked up to see one right above me. I glimpsed a beak, and beyond that, within its translucent innards, a complicated tangle of writhing guts and something half digested that had a bit of fur on it. One of its tentacles stroked the ship, lifted, and curled back for me.

  I threw myself into the crow’s nest as the tentacle cracked against the open glass dome. I wanted to grab the hatch and slam it shut, but the tentacle was still there, lingering, its tip vibrating. It had only to reach down, and it would have me. The stench of rotting food washed over me, making me gag.

  I grabbed the speaking tube and shouted, “Shed five hundred feet, now!”

  A second tentacle sliced past overhead and then hovered beside the first, as if conferring with it.

  They shot down for me.

  And the ship dropped, suddenly and swiftly, leaving them dangling in empty air.

  Giddy with the sudden plunge I watched these deadly floating creatures shrink into the distance, electricity sparking from their tentacles. I reached up, closed the domed hatch, and started down the ladder.

  “Turn back, or go on,” Slater said. “That’s the decision I have to make.”

  Assembled around the dining table later that evening, we were a grim lot. I had never seen a man die before me in such a way. Caught in my nostrils still was the horrifying smell of seared flesh and melted plastic from Mr. Dalkey’s goggles. In my worst nightmares I had never beheld such an awful thing.

  “Kami is very lucky,” Dorje said. “He has mild burns on his legs and a small wound on his foot where the current passed through him. But the fire cauterized it instantly so I do not think there is any risk of infection. Already he says he is regaining sensation in his legs.”

  “If he needs a doctor’s attention, we should go back,” said Kate, looking around for support. Nadira stared at the table, silent. Kate’s eyes settled on me.

  “She’s right,” I said, though the thought of giving up was terrible to me. We had come this far, and with such high hopes. I did not want to turn around and lose our chance at salvaging the Hyperion.

  “What do you think, Dorje?” Slater asked.

  “Kami insists he’s fine. He doesn’t want us to go back.”

  “But do you think he needs to?”

  Dorje paused. I knew that the Sherpas were proud and that they were fiercely protective of their reputations. Any sign of weakness was quick to be concealed, lest word spread and cost them future employment.

  “I do not think a doctor will heal him any faster,” said Dorje.

  Slater nodded, his face strained. “This adventure has already cost a man his life.”

  “Mr. Dalkey is gone,” said
Dorje. “Nothing will bring him back. But a good salvage will take care of his family’s needs and bring them some comfort.”

  “Mr. Dalkey was married?” said Miss Simpkins.

  “With three children,” Slater replied.

  “How terrible,” Kate breathed.

  Slater dragged a hand across his face. I could see the misery locked behind his eyes, and realized how deeply he cared about all his crew. And now he had lost one of them, and would have to tell the family the tragic news. The moment of Dalkey’s death flared in my mind once more, and I thought I was going to be sick. I took several deep breaths and gradually felt the hot constriction in my stomach subside.

  “We carry on then,” Slater said with a savage determination. “We’ll wrest a victory from this voyage yet. I’m short a man. Cruse, you’ve been hankering after work?”

  “I have.”

  “Then welcome to the crew,” he said.

  WEATHER CHANGE

  Up in the crow’s nest, I was the ship’s eyes—as I had been so often aboard the Aurora. Despite the heating wires encased within the glass observation dome, small patches of ice glittered on the inside, intricate as lace. I scraped them away, then drew my fleece-lined jacket tighter about myself.

  Below us Australia was enjoying a blistering summer, but at sixteen thousand feet the mercury had fallen to negative fifteen. The crow’s nest itself was unheated, and my feet were never warm, though I wore two pairs of socks. I clenched and unclenched my gloved fingers to warm them, and thought of my mother’s hands, her joints swollen with rheumatism. With money it wouldn’t matter. I imagined all the treasures aboard the Hyperion. I would plunge my fists into a chest of gold, and the touch of it would warm my hands and heal my mother’s, as quickly as a pond blessed by a saint. I scanned the skies, watching for unmarked vessels—vessels of any kind—always anxious now that someone would steal our prize.

  In the distance I saw a brief flurry of sparks, and thought it must be lightning before realizing it was another colony of those squidlike floaters. I reported it to Dorje, who was on watch in the control car, but they did not seem to be coming any closer, so we held our course.

  Though Kate was shocked by Dalkey’s death, she was still devastated she’d missed seeing the creatures during our first encounter. I could understand her excitement—surely this was a high-altitude species never before seen—but Dalkey’s death was still too close at hand for me, and I did not like to remember it. I could tell Kate was barely able to control her curiosity, but she was kind enough not to pester me.

  It was good to be busy again. I was delighted with my new duties aboard ship, though I couldn’t help feeling guilty they had come to me through a man’s death. With Kami Sherpa still bedridden, there was a great deal to be done, and Hal often put me up in the crow’s nest. Some of Dalkey’s sailmaker duties also fell to me: inspecting the rigging and the gas cells and the valves. Once Hal even let me do a watch as navigator.

  I found it soothing to be back among the working rhythms of a ship. I was also relieved to be away from Kate and Nadira.

  Watching Hal swirl Kate about during the dance, I had felt he could just as easily swirl her away altogether. Before we’d departed, she’d told me her interest in Hal went no further than his ship, but I could tell she fancied him. She seemed awfully self-conscious whenever he was present, and kept touching her hair, and laughing more than usual. I had never known how deep jealousy could bite. So how was it, at the same time, I wanted to look at Nadira and feel her gaze on me. How was it I liked remembering the sensation of her blouse shifting under my hand as we’d danced?

  I felt pulled in different directions, and I hated it. I did not like myself. I wished I had Baz with me. He would be able to sort me out. He knew about these things. Obviously my heart had a fiendish bent, or else how could I adore Kate, and desire Nadira too? When I wasn’t on watch, I started keeping to my cabin rather than join them in the lounge. At meal times, I ate quickly and then made some excuse so I could slip away.

  I let my eyes drift to the east. Dawn was almost here, a promise that was never broken. Soon the sun would crest the horizon and bring color back to the cloudless sky. It would be another day of smooth sailing for the Sagarmatha. I was startled to hear footsteps on the ladder, because my watch was not over for another two hours. I looked down to see Nadira climbing to the crow’s nest.

  “Good morning,” she said, stepping onto the platform. She was a bit out of breath from the climb; the air was much thinner at these loftier altitudes.

  “You’re up early,” I said.

  “When Mrs. Ram wakes up she starts humming, and I can never get back to sleep. I was hoping to see the sunrise.”

  “You really shouldn’t be up here.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m on crow’s nest duty. I’m supposed to be giving the skies my undivided attention.”

  “Pretend I’m not here,” she said, and we both smiled, for the crow’s nest was not much bigger than a telephone booth. “May I just stay for the sunrise? Then I’ll disappear, I promise.”

  I gave a curt nod and turned my gaze back to the sky, willing the sun to hurry up. I could no more ignore Nadira than a pillar of fire. From the corner of my eye, I saw her silently watching the eastern horizon.

  Kate would have talked.

  She would have made all sorts of observations and told me everything on her mind. She would have vexed me and made me laugh. There was no stopping her words. I loved her words. Harness their energy and you could light Paris. My feelings for Kate were so strong I could scarcely make sense of them. Being near her, I was filled with happiness and want and panic all swirled together. I wanted to talk to her, shout at her, touch her, and kiss her. I wanted to flee from her. It was altogether exhausting.

  The sun was taking an awfully long time.

  “You must love it up here,” Nadira said. “The view.”

  “It beats studying.”

  A few moments passed in silence.

  “I can’t read fortunes,” she said, “but it turns out I’m pretty good with numbers. I might be able to help.”

  I’d been trying to hide my difficulties from everyone, hunched over my textbooks, cursing only inside my head. But Nadira must have been watching carefully, and noticed my scratchings and crossings out. If Kate had made the same offer, I would have pretended I was getting on just fine by myself, thank you. She was quite brilliant enough already. I felt like I was doomed always to lag behind her. Flying was supposed to be my realm: my pride would not let her best me there too.

  But somehow I didn’t feel the same competitiveness with Nadira. Maybe it was because I didn’t know her as well, or because I saw her more as an equal than a superior. And best of all, Kate would not have to know of my mathematical failings.

  “It’s complicated stuff,” I said.

  “Maybe we can muddle through it together. My father schooled me, whenever he was at home. He was a good teacher. After that I picked up a fair bit on my own.”

  “All right,” I said. “Thank you, that’s very generous of you.”

  “Stable hands like us should stick together.”

  I chuckled but felt sad, remembering Miss Simpkins’s stern words of caution to Kate.

  “Look, there’s the sun,” said Nadira, the dawn’s light upon her face.

  I forced myself to look away. “Yep, it’s a beauty. You should probably head down now.”

  She turned, her hair’s fragrance ensnaring me. We could not have been closer if we were dancing.

  “It’s my wedding day today,” she said.

  “So it is,” I said.

  She smiled. “Care to kiss the bride?”

  I said nothing, thinking this must be a joke. I did not move. She leaned forward and put her lips against mine. Our noses rubbed. She tasted deliciously of sleep, of raisins and curry. Her hands came up to rest on my shoulders. It was impossible not to kiss back. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. I had not star
ted this. Our bodies pressed together. My hands touched her face and hair. My heart paused, as if forgetting itself, then gave a kick and ran fast like some guilty thing. Our mouths parted for breath in the thin air, and when she tilted her face back toward me, I stepped away. I cleared my throat. I scratched at my neck.

  “You look miserable,” she said.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Why not? I’m the one who’s betrothed.”

  “No, but Kate and I…”

  And I stopped, for suddenly it seemed presumptuous to say anything. I wasn’t at all certain how Kate felt about me anymore. Miss Simpkins certainly didn’t think we were sweethearts, and perhaps Kate didn’t either. Hal had half convinced me that he was her object of desire. I shook my head, too confused and dismayed to speak.

  And then, for the second time that morning, I heard distant footsteps on the ladder, and looked down in shock. Climbing up to the crow’s nest was Kate.

  “Oh, no,” I breathed.

  “Should I step outside?” Nadira whispered, eyebrows arched with amusement.

  I ignored her, and briefly considered hurling myself out the hatch.

  “I thought I’d come and say hello,” Kate called up from below. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

  Her head emerged above the platform and her eyes moved swiftly from me to Nadira. She gave a big smile.

  “Oh, hello! Did you come to see the sunrise too?”

  “Nadira couldn’t sleep,” I said.

  Kate was flushed and blowing hard from the climb. She reached out a hand, and I helped her up onto the platform.

  “You know, it’s really surprisingly roomy up here,” she observed.

  If two people was a squeeze in the crow’s nest, three was almost impossible. We stood all bunched together, shoulders and arms grazing. Despite the subzero temperature beyond the hatch, I was starting to sweat. Kate was quiet for a moment, still catching her breath.

  “You just missed the sunrise,” Nadira told her.

  “Did I? What a shame. I have a bad habit of sleeping late. Matt can tell you all about that. Remember the pirate village, when we were trying to escape?”