Skybreaker

by Kenneth Oppel

  “Someone may have beat us to it,” Jangbu said from the wheel.

  Hal scoffed. “There’s only a couple ships in the world that could make these heights. Before we left, I checked up on the locations of all the other skybreakers. They’re all tied up on long-haul jobs. They can’t be seeking the Hyperion as well.”

  I looked at Hal. “I thought you said yours was the only ship that could work so high.”

  “A bit of an exaggeration. There are several.”

  “How many?”

  “Maybe a dozen. Probably more. But they don’t have the coordinates, do they? Those sensationally accurate coordinates of yours.”

  Hal kept us on watch long into the afternoon. When finally Dorje emerged from the chart room, we all turned expectantly.

  “I didn’t account properly for our proximity to Antarctica,” he said. “The cold air slides off the mountains there like an avalanche. No ship without power could cut those headwinds. The Hyperion will have changed her course. Bring us about east northeast. We will find her yet.”

  Up in the crow’s nest, the cold numbed my feet and fingers as I peered into the vastness of the sky. It was half past three in the morning. With only the stars and a sliver of new moon, it would be near impossible to sight an unlit vessel. Luckily, Dorje had said we would not come across the Hyperion before midday, soonest. Which was why, no doubt, Hal had put me on this watch. As far as he was concerned, it was my fault we hadn’t yet found the Hyperion. Every ship takes on the mood of its captain, and with a ship as cozy as the Sagarmatha, Hal’s ill humor was easy to detect. He had no tolerance for disappointment.

  We were circling the bottom of the world, and earlier in my watch Hal had called up to report a storm festering over the Antarctic Ridge. I did not think it would bother us at this altitude, but suddenly I noticed whole swaths of stars disappearing along the horizon. The running lights on the Sagarmatha’s back reflected brightly against the mist that was quickly enveloping us.

  “Crow’s nest reporting,” I said into the speaking tube.

  “I know,” came Hal’s voice. “Just a little spume from the storm below. Should be through it before long.”

  The Sagarmatha shuddered as she rode the turbulent air. Beyond the observation dome, the sky opened and closed as we sailed through the wispy cloud. Then, all at once, the cloud thickened and there were no more snatches of star-speckled sky. The ship’s lights flashed against the mist in time with my pulse.

  “Crow’s nest,” I said. “I’m blind up here. Can we climb above it?”

  “No need,” came Hal’s voice. “We’ll be through in a minute.”

  I did not like this one bit. We picked up speed as Hal tried to drive us clear. I caught myself counting seconds. Hal was right; it did not take long. Soon the cloud began to thin once more: white cloud, black sky, white cloud, and then we plowed through the last of the high cirrus and were suddenly out in the open.

  Off to starboard, a huge wall of night hurtled toward us.

  I yanked the speaking tube to my mouth.

  “Ship at three o’clock!” I cried. “Collision course!”

  Through the tube I heard Hal barking orders to his crew, and then I could only stare in horror as the enormous vessel came at us broadside. She blotted out the sky as she came, looming above us, raven black and visible only for the ice glittering on her flanks. I saw her ribs, her flayed skin. We shed ballast so quickly I gave a shout. Our engines roared and we angled high, banking to port. I was tilted so far over I lost sight of the other ship for a moment but then I heard an unearthly moan, like the woodwind section of Satan’s orchestra, as she began passing beneath us.

  She struck. The impact threw me against the hatch. My face hit metal, and the sight was momentarily dashed from my eyes. The iron taste of blood filled my mouth. I rallied my senses. Peering out through the dome I saw the ship, driven by the wind, careering diagonally through the sky.

  From the speaking tube I heard the staccato exchange of voices in the control car.

  “We’ve lost two and three on the port side!”

  “The ship must’ve sheered them off when she passed.”

  “Jangbu, go back and find out how bad the damage is.” That was Hal. “I want all available hands for repairs. How’re the gas cells?”

  “We’re tight. No leakage.”

  “Elevators and rudder?” I heard Dorje ask.

  “Seem fine.”

  “Thank God,” said Hal. “Get some lights on her, and bring us about so we can follow her. Cruse!”

  “Here,” I replied.

  “Any damage up there?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You all right?”

  “Fine.”

  My tongue prodded for damage. I’d chipped a tooth and cut up the inside of my mouth. My skull was still intact, apart from a swelling behind my temple. Served me right. Served me right for not seeing the ship. What kind of lookout was I?

  “A little more warning would have been useful,” Hal said.

  I said nothing, feeling terrible.

  “We were in cloud,” I heard Dorje tell him in the control car.

  Hal sniffed. “A feathering of cirrus, nothing more.”

  It was true, the cloud had been thinning, but the brief flashes of clear sky had not been enough for me to make out the ship, cloaked as it was in night. I was not sleepy. I had not let my eyes become bleary and unfocused. I’d been doing my best, but it was not enough.

  “We saw nothing from the control car either,” I heard Dorje remind Hal.

  “Don’t make excuses for him, Dorje,” Hal said sharply. “It was his watch, and we lost two engines on it.”

  From the Saga’s bow, powerful spotlights blazed twin pathways through the night and quickly fixed on the airship before us. On her flank, I could make out the name: Hyperion.

  We hadn’t found her.

  She’d found us.

  THE HYPERION

  Beneath us the Hyperion rode the wind like a great airborne whale, cutting the icy sky with her flukes. From the windows of the control car, I watched as Hal brought us closer. Sometimes, as if aware of our harpooner’s intent, the Hyperion dipped and slewed; other times, trying to scare us off, she crested, forcing us away from her massive sun-bleached back. Hal’s crew were expert sailors and, even without a full complement of engines, they managed to mirror the Hyperion’s every movement. Through the night we’d kept well back, shadowing her, but now the dawn gave us enough light to attempt a boarding.

  “Bring me in lower,” Hal told his crew. “Bring me in nice and close now so I can get a line on her.”

  “She’s enormous,” I said. “She must have seven hundred feet on her.”

  “Seven hundred fifty. And she’ll be all ours soon.”

  From the ceiling of the control car, Hal pulled down a periscopelike column of controls entwined with bundles of cables. The control console hung at chest level, studded with all manner of dials and levers, and on either side were maneuverable brass handles with rubber grips.

  Hal grasped the handles and swiveled them forward in tandem. There was a harsh whirring sound beyond the windows, and I looked out to see a pair of mechanical arms unfolding themselves from the ship’s hull, like the limbs of a praying mantis. As they extended they seemed spindly things, but then I saw that their sinew was braided alumiron cable, near unbreakable. The limbs bulged with universal joints and massive shock absorbers, and were tipped with a thick loop of cable and pincers.

  “Give Dorje a ring,” Hal told me, “and tell him we’re ready to lock on.”

  I picked up the ship’s telephone and called the aft docking station, near the Sagarmatha’s stern. Dorje was stationed there, and I assumed he was manning an identical set of arms, ready to guide them toward the Hyperion’s back. I relayed Hal’s message to him and hung up as the Saga made a sudden leap.

  “Stay sharp,” Hal told Jangbu and Ang Jeta at the helm, “she’s lively down there.”

/>   Through the windows in the control car floor he had a clear view of the two mechanical arms stretching down toward the Hyperion. Hal squeezed the trigger on both his handles, and down below the arms’ pincers opened wide, aimed for the Hyperion’s forward mooring cleats. At that moment, the great ship dipped and shuddered, leaving the arms dangling over empty air.

  “Bring her back, bring her back…”

  Within seconds the Saga stole over the Hyperion once more.

  “Come here, me darling,” Hal muttered.

  I saw his fingers tighten around the brass handles.

  Just a little nudge to port…I’m almost there.”

  He shoved the brass handles hard.

  The arms suddenly lunged, pincers gaping like the jaws of some deadly eel. On both port and starboard sides they connected with the Hyperion’s mooring cleats and bit down.

  “Got her!” cried Hal. “Throttle back and hold tight, gents, we’re on a Nantucket sleigh ride!”

  Long ago when men had harpooned the great whales, they were often taken on a wild ride through the waves by their quarry, and so it was with the Sagarmatha. She’d just coupled with a ship six times her size, and was now being pulled through the glacial sky, dipping and rolling. I wondered how long it would be before Miss Simpkins was airsick.

  The coupling arms were strong yet supple. Buffered by huge springs, they compressed and stretched as needed, but I realized they were also designed to hold the other ship at a distance. The Hyperion could only ride up so close before the arms locked and prevented a collision. I just hoped her ancient mooring cleats did not rip free.

  The ship’s telephone rang, and Hal grabbed it.

  “Good work, Dorje,” he said, and hung up. He turned to me and gave a wink. “We’re locked on.”

  “I’m not going to waste time lying,” Hal told us all in the lounge. “The Saga’s seriously damaged, and it’s changed our plan of attack. I’d originally intended to tow the Hyperion back to a safe harbor and salvage her there. It’s a tricky business at the best of times, and with only four engines, we don’t have enough power to attempt it safely. That means anything we want from the Hyperion, we have to salvage from her midair.”

  After the collision last night I’d helped survey the damage. The ship’s alumiron exoskeleton had done its job well, for the hull was unharmed and the skin torn only in a few places. None of the gas cells had been ruptured. But as Hal had feared, the aft and amidships engine cars had been crumpled against the port flank, and now dangled from their twisted struts. We’d done all we could to lash down the wreckage, but Hal would need a dry dock to repair his custom-built engine cars. It made me sick to look upon them. Even though I was sure the collision couldn’t have been avoided, I was up there in the lookout when it happened, and it would always feel like a failure.

  “First priority is the money,” Hal continued. “Gold, banknotes, jewels, that’s what we’ll be looking for. Everything else comes second.”

  “That was not my understanding of our agreement,” Kate objected.

  “Things have changed,” said Hal. “I’ve lost a member of my crew; I’ve got expensive repairs to look forward to.” He held up his hand to cut Kate off. “I know you wanted the taxidermy. Likely we won’t be able to take everything. If it fits up the ladders we’ll try it. Otherwise, it stays with the ship. And even that depends on weather and time. Every hour we stay up here, we get weaker, especially you lot who aren’t used to these heights. Right now the winds are light, but if the weather sours we may have to break off our salvage. Could be a matter of life and death. Are we all clear on this?”

  Kate’s nostrils narrowed, and her eyes strayed to me for a moment. I wondered if she was angry with just Hal, or me too. Maybe she actually blamed me for the damage to the Saga. Maybe she thought I’d been up there smooching with Nadira, and not paying attention.

  “Cruse, you’ll be boarding with Dorje and me. The rest of you will stay aboard the Saga.”

  “What?” Nadira said in disbelief.

  “I’m going aboard,” Kate said angrily. “I didn’t come all his way to knit socks by the hearth.”

  “I’m perfectly content to knit by the hearth,” said Miss Simpkins, who was, in fact, knitting by the hearth.

  “You’re both brave, spirited young ladies,” Hal said, and I could tell he was somewhat taken aback by the ferocity in their faces. “I’m just thinking of your safety. You’ve no experience working salvage. It’s going to be hard work. You’ll slow us down.”

  “Kate, I think your parents would want you to stay behind,” her chaperone said. “It’s too dangerous!”

  “I need to examine the specimens before I know which ones I want,” Kate said. “Hal, I absolutely insist on it.”

  “The cargo bay doors don’t open without my key,” Nadira told Hal. “And it stays around my neck until I’m on board the Hyperion.”

  The two girls looked at each other and almost smiled.

  “You’ll take one look out the hatch and think better of it,” Hal said.

  “They’re equal to the challenge,” I told him. “And we’ll work faster with a few more sets of eyes and hands.”

  “Fine,” Hal said. “But if you fall behind, it’s back to the Saga for good. I’ll not be hindered playing nurse maid. I’ll have Mrs. Ram alter some sky suits for you. Cruse, we need to start assembling the gear. We board in one hour.”

  “This is your sky suit,” Dorje said, holding a thick hide garment out to me. It was a single piece of clothing: trousers, coat, and hood all painstakingly sewed together with the smallest stitches I’d ever seen. The hide was soft and tanned, and lined inside, from hood to heel, with a layer of fur, thicker and whiter than any I’d ever seen.

  “It’s snow leopard, from the Himalayas,” Dorje explained. “Strip down to your underwear and put it on.”

  “Shouldn’t I keep my clothes on? For extra warmth?” I’d seen the thermometer outside. It was more than thirty below.

  “They’ll make you too bulky,” Hal said, unbuttoning his shirt and revealing a well-muscled chest. “The suits are designed to fit snugly.”

  “Wear the leopard fur next to your skin and you’ll have the heat of the leopard,” Dorje said.

  We were in the boarding bay, just aft of the passenger quarters along the keel catwalk. The hatch was still closed, and the electric heating coils along the baseboards glowed and struggled vainly against the mighty cold. The hull might as well have been made of gauze. Kami Sherpa was checking the winch that would lower us the fifty feet to the Hyperion’s back. Arranged neatly on the floor was all our gear, to be divided among our five rucksacks. Oxygen tanks and breathing masks were laid out.

  Hoping Kate and Nadira would not come in as I was undressing, I hurriedly pulled off my trousers, wool sweater, and shirt. I started shivering.

  “You need some more meat on those bones,” Hal said.

  I pulled the sky suit to me and slipped my legs into the trousers. The fur caressed me, warming me instantly. I shrugged my arms into the sleeves of the coat and drew it around me. There were two rows of complicated clasps to do up, and by the time they were all done, I had almost forgotten the cold that had assailed me moments before. I felt the snow leopard’s skin against mine, felt its heat gathering against me. I stood, worried the suit would make me clumsy, but it was amazingly supple, yielding to every bend of my knee or elbow or waist. It fit me like a second skin. I stepped into the boots. They too were lined with leopard fur, their soles fitted with thick, vulcanized rubber treads to give me good footing on the ship’s icy back.

  “Gloves,” said Hal, tossing me a pair.

  I slid them on. They did not even hamper the flex of my fingers. They became my fingers.

  “Ah, here are our fine lady adventuresses,” Hal said. “Looking very fetching in their sky suits, I must say.”

  It gave me quite a shock when I looked up and saw Kate and Nadira both clothed in their snow leopard garments, striding toward m
e. Their dark hair spilled over the white fur of their hoods. Their boots made them taller and the hide suits lent them the lithe power of mountain cats.

  “Mrs. Ram is very handy with a needle,” Kate said. “Marjorie was most impressed by how quickly she did the alterations.”

  “Let’s suit up,” said Hal. “Safety harnesses first.”

  I helped Kate with hers, showing her all the places where it needed to be cinched and clipped. I offered to help Nadira, but she just shook her head and seemed to be managing fine on her own.

  Hal held up a small tank for all of us to see.

  “Inside your rucksacks will be your oxygen tanks. It’s good for four hours. Half a turn opens the valve. Depending how acclimatized your bodies are, you may not need it all the time. I’d like you three to wear your masks at least until we’re inside the Hyperion. I want you all at your strongest when we’re on the ship’s back.”

  “You don’t use oxygen at all?” Kate asked Dorje.

  “I bring a tank, but I have no need of it,” the Sherpa replied. “I grew up at altitudes not much lower than this.”

  “Everest is thirty thousand feet,” said Hal. “This is a stroll.”

  “Hal finds oxygen unmanly,” said Dorje, and I wasn’t sure if there was a glimmer of gentle mockery in his eyes.

  “Inside the Hyperion you can take the masks off if you feel comfortable,” Hal said. “But the moment you feel faint, or clumsy, or start shivering, the mask goes on again. If you need to vomit, remove the mask and replace it when you’re finished. If you have trouble breathing, or develop a blinding headache, or your vision falters, tell me. You’ll need to go back to the Saga right away.”

  We put on our rucksacks. The oxygen tanks within were surprisingly light.

  “Goggles stay on until we’re inside. Hoods stay up, gloves on at all times. You take them off, your skin will start freezing in seconds. When I give the word, we return to the ship, no argument. We take no chances in Skyberia. The cold is bad, but the altitude will kill you faster. It takes different people at different speeds. I don’t know what we’ll find, but it’s likely to be unpleasant. There will be bodies. We don’t know what happened to the ship. There may have been a mutiny, a skyjacking, plague, or some other form of disaster that brought death to the entire crew. We won’t be able to hear one another outside on the ship’s back, so here’s what we’re going to do…” Step by step he took us through the boarding procedure, as stern and relentless as a drill sergeant. I watched Kate’s and Nadira’s faces for signs of fear. Nadira was composed, and Kate’s forehead bore a furrow of concentration.