Skybreaker

by Kenneth Oppel

  “We should move on,” Nadira said, and I could hear the impatience in her voice.

  As we left the ornithopter hangar, the ship gave a quick shudder. For the past hour, I’d been aware of the wind picking up, could feel it shaking the floor through the torn hull. The Saga’s engines would have to work harder to steady us. We crossed the catwalk to a door on the ship’s starboard side.

  I turned the handle and pushed. The door swung open halfway and then struck something hard. My nightmare awoke and beat against the walls of my chest. I swore and gave the door a violent kick. There was another clunk, then the sound of something scraping along the floor as the door swung farther open.

  I stepped back, waiting. Nadira was looking at me wonderingly, eyes wide. I felt as though someone had grabbed my heart and squeezed it dry like a sponge. Nothing happened. No noise came from the dark room. From my rucksack I pulled out the pry bar and gripped it in my right hand. I lunged inside, stabbing torch light behind the door.

  I gasped. Then I started laughing, and could not stop. A chicken, frozen hard as an anvil, was toppled against the door. Nadira was behind me, and her torch picked out several other chickens, settled behind the mesh windows of their coop. They looked as if they might give a cluck and start laying at any moment.

  The room appeared to be a small barn. Straw was scattered around the floor, speckled with frozen chicken droppings. Feed and water troughs were set out. Against the opposite wall were two stalls, one containing a goat, the other a milking cow, keeled over on its side.

  “Eerie,” said Nadira.

  “Very.”

  But I began to feel that I was the freak aboard this ship, moving and breathing when all around me were the frozen dead. It was unusual nowadays for a cargo or passenger ship to bring animals aboard. Still, it was all of a piece with Grunel’s wish to be self-sufficient on his long journey. From the hen came eggs, from the goat and cow fresh milk, cheese, and meat if need be.

  We made a thorough search of the room. Nadira even opened the henhouse and sifted through the straw and nests in case Grunel had hidden some goodies in there. Impressed by her thoroughness, I slit the bags of feed with a pitchfork, lest they contain diamonds instead of seed. There were no pleasant surprises to be had here.

  “Are you getting worried at all?” she asked.

  “That there’s nothing? I’m starting to wonder.”

  “Should we try through here?” Nadira said, pointing to a door between the two stalls. It was not locked. I was startled by the light that spilled over us when she opened it.

  We walked into an orchard.

  The ship’s hull had been generously fitted with windows, and the frosty glass shone brilliantly. The trees glittered. Their leaves had turned and were furred with ice. It was like some kind of fairy garden that had been put to sleep for a hundred years and would only bloom and thrive again when the king returned. I did not know much about trees, but could see there were several different kinds here.

  “Look,” said Nadira, “there’s a vegetable garden too.”

  Beyond the orchard was a rectangular patch of soil. Nothing had had a chance to grow much, just a few withered stalks and vines. But each furrow was marked with stakes bearing small handwritten signs: potatoes, tomatoes, carrots, spinach, rhubarb, and corn.

  I’d heard of cooks growing potted basil in their kitchen windows, but never had I known of airborne gardens and orchards.

  “Must be another of his experiments,” I said, “to see how trees and plants grow aloft.” I looked at the large windows. “They had enough light, I suppose.”

  “But how did they keep it all watered?” Nadira asked.

  “Plenty of water tanks aboard. They could collect it too, when it rained.” Most ships had adjustable gutters. Fly beneath a single rain cloud and you could pick up water fast.

  Suddenly I thought of Grunel’s sketches, the lush gardens, the greenhouses.

  “He wanted to build his aerial city,” I said with certainty. “That’s why he came up here. To see if it could be done. Water from the clouds. Food from his farms. The only thing he wouldn’t have is fuel. Without fuel, it could never work.”

  Nadira shrugged. She didn’t seem particularly interested. Kate would have understood my wistfulness. She knew me of old, knew the part of me that longed to be airborne at all times.

  “Maybe he buried his treasure,” Nadira said.

  I looked over the orchard in dismay. If Hal saw this he’d probably want us to dig it all up. Grunel was so strange a fellow, I supposed it was possible he’d entomb his treasure in the earth. Still, I did not have the heart to embark on it right now. “Why don’t we save that treat for later,” I said.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said, gazing at the fairy orchard.

  “Are you all right?” I asked, for I noticed she was shivering.

  “I’m just a bit cold.”

  “Take some oxygen.”

  I waited while she fitted her mask and took some deep breaths. I felt guilty. I should have stopped more often for breaks. When you see a person jump rooftops and kick up their heels at bullets, you do not think anything can stop them. After a few minutes she took the mask off.

  “How’s your headache?” I asked, remembering how she’d winced and rubbed at her temples before we’d boarded the Hyperion this morning.

  “Not too bad.”

  “You sure? Do you want to go back to the ship?”

  She looked at me. Her green eyes.

  “You’re very kind,” she said.

  I gave an awkward laugh. “No.”

  “Yes you are. You stood up for me when no one else would.”

  “I’m surprised you can think well of me, after what happened between me and your father.”

  “Anything you did was self-defense. When I first met you, somehow I knew there wasn’t a cruel bone in your body. You’re too decent a person. You’re like…the Statue of Liberty.”

  “Well, I don’t usually wear a gown. Are you sure you’re not feeling light-headed?”

  “She’s like a beacon, standing there gazing into the future. I like the way you think all things are possible.”

  I marveled at her words, for as much as they flattered me, they seemed untrue. Lately my thoughts had taken a gloomy turn.

  “Ah, well,” I said, “I feel like I’m cheating.”

  “How?”

  “Looking for treasure, I’m no better than a pirate. I’m not earning it. If I played by the rules, I’d be back at school studying for my exams.”

  “The rules,” said Nadira. “If I followed the rules, I’d be married right now.”

  I grimaced. “The fellow with the bad teeth.”

  She nodded.

  “Some rules really should be broken,” I admitted.

  “If we find gold here,” she said, “you won’t need to go back to the Academy. You won’t have to fly rich people around the rest of your life. You can do exactly what you want. Buy your own ship. You won’t have to answer to anyone but yourself. You’ll blaze your own trail!”

  She was conjuring a glorious picture of my future, one that I had started sketching for myself the past few days. But there was still something miragelike about it. It still felt beyond my grasp—or was I just too timid or blinkered to seize it?

  “You and I are rule breakers,” Nadira said. “The world’s hard. We might not be able to change it, but I think we’ll make a dent in it.”

  “I hope you’re right,” I said.

  She touched my face.

  I wanted to be touched.

  I felt like crying, for at that moment I knew it was Kate’s touch I wanted, and I could not have it. Despite how mismatched we were, despite my disloyal heart, it was her I wanted above anything, and I worried I’d lost her.

  I cleared my throat and nearly fell over as the ship gave a violent shudder and did not stop. The sun shone just as brightly through the windows, but the invisible wind had the Hyperion in her claws and was not willing
to let go.

  “Come on,” I said.

  With the ship’s floor heaving, we lurched toward the door and out onto the catwalk. The wind was gushing in through the tears in the ship’s fabric and playing devil’s fiddle in the rigging. I caught sight of Dorje struggling along the catwalk toward me.

  “We’re leaving!” he called out.

  We reached the forward ladder at the same time as Hal and Kate.

  “Blowing a bit hard,” said Hal.

  “Did you find anything?” I asked.

  He shook his head and grunted. I didn’t care. I was looking at Kate. I half expected her to announce an engagement.

  “Lead the way, Cruse,” Hal said. “We’ll wait this out on the Saga.”

  I started climbing for the crow’s nest, the ladder swaying like a metronome as the ship pitched and fell. Beneath the observation dome I peered out at the sky and did not like what I saw.

  As the wind pummeled the two ships, the Saga’s four coupling arms were stretching and compressing like springs. They managed to keep the two ships from colliding, but they were being sorely tested. The sky shrieked. The Hyperion was like a wild thing thrashing for its freedom.

  Overhead I could see Kami Sherpa peering down from the Saga’s hatch, starting to lower the winch. The line came down askew, blown by the wind. A sudden gust cracked it like a lion tamer’s whip.

  “Get the girls on first,” Hal said from the ladder. “Let’s be quick about this.”

  “Make sure your harnesses are snug,” Dorje said. “I’ll take you out one at a time. Oxygen. Goggles. Get them on. Kate, you’re first.”

  I made room for Kate beside me. She looked out at the maelstrom, as she fumbled with her goggles.

  “It’s going to be bumpy,” I said.

  “I can see that.”

  “Be careful,” I said, adjusting her mask for her.

  She looked at me, a million miles away behind her goggles, and then Dorje opened the hatch. I crouched instinctively as the glacial sky hit us.

  Dorje hooked his safety line to the rail, and Kate’s too. Side by side, hunched low, they made their way along the ship’s back. The wind was full of malice, beating at the ships. Dorje caught the winch cable and was about to hook Kate to it, when I saw one of the forward coupling arms jerk free of the Hyperion’s back. It had slipped its mooring cleat.

  I pulled my mask from my mouth and shouted to Dorje with all my might, but the wind stole my words. I clipped my line to the safety rail and hurried out. The other forward coupling arm was bearing a double load now, and it could not last long.

  I reached Dorje and pointed. Without a word, he left Kate in my care, and scuttled across to the loose coupling arm. As he pulled it back toward the mooring cleat, there was a snap loud enough to beat the wind’s howl, and the second forward coupling arm ripped its cleat right off the Hyperion’s back. Dorje held tight as he was lifted high into the air.

  I could not leave Kate. We grasped the safety rail, terrified. There was another wrenching shudder, and I looked aft to see the two remaining coupling arms tear loose. We were free of the Saga now, and I saw her slide off into the sky above us. Dorje, clinging to the mechanical arm, was carried away from us.

  There was nothing to do but get back to the crow’s nest. With the ship rolling, we flattened ourselves against her back and crawled, praying the safety rail did not tear loose. Hal and Nadira were waiting to haul us inside.

  The wind tearing at our faces, we peered up at the Sagarmatha.

  “He’s all right,” Hal shouted, watching Dorje. “They’re bringing him in.”

  I saw that the coupling arm carrying Dorje was slowly being retracted, and when it was alongside the control car, a window opened, and Dorje nimbly leaped inside.

  The Saga dipped closer, but Hal started bellowing and waving his arm.

  “No! Take her up! Take her up!”

  They could not have heard his words, but they must have realized the same dreadful fact. It was far too windy to attempt another docking.

  The four of us were marooned aboard the Hyperion.

  MAROONED

  We slammed the hatch shut and climbed back down to the axial catwalk.

  “They’ll be back for us as soon as the gale blows itself out,” Hal said.

  I said nothing. Nadira and Kate were breathing hard, struggling to keep their balance as the Hyperion heaved and trembled. We’d taken her captive only briefly, and now she was free once more and appeared to be reveling in the storm winds. She’s been through worse, I told myself. She’s spent forty years aloft, pummeled by the sky, and she’s survived. Ominous shrieks and groans wafted through the ship like the cries of a tortured man.

  “When will the wind die down, do you think?” Kate asked Hal, trying to sound like she was just making polite conversation.

  “Could be an hour…”

  “Oh, that’s not so bad.”

  “…or twelve. Dorje will keep us in sight, but he won’t try to dock unless it’s safe. If the Saga gets wrecked, we’re all finished. Is anyone hungry? I think Mrs. Ram packed us some sugared almonds and dried fruit.”

  The ship lurched to port, and Kate staggered against me.

  “We should find somewhere safer to wait this out,” I said. “What about Grunel’s apartments? There are blankets if we get cold.”

  “I’d rather not go back there,” Kate said with surprising firmness.

  I looked from her to Hal. “What happened?”

  “Nothing,” Hal said, sounding exasperated. “Remember the sheet I threw over Grunel? When Kate and I went in, it fell off and gave her a bit of a fright.”

  “It didn’t just fall off,” Kate objected. “My back was turned, and I heard a sound like someone ripping off the sheet. When I looked around, it was on the floor.”

  I felt my scalp prickle.

  “Things move aboard a ship,” Hal said. “Especially in storm conditions.”

  “He’ll be tap dancing next,” said Nadira.

  “Surely there’s somewhere else,” Kate insisted. “Preferably without dead people.”

  Had it been left up to me, I would have stayed perched in the crow’s nest. It would be viciously cold, but at least there I could see the open sky. I dreaded descending further into the ship’s darkness.

  “Somewhere with windows would be good,” I said. “That way we can save our torches for night. If it comes to that,” I added, seeing the alarm in Kate’s eyes.

  “Why not his engineerium?” Nadira said. “We can finish searching it while we wait.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I said. “There’s a lot of heavy equipment in there. I wouldn’t want any of that ripping free in the storm and crushing us.”

  “It looked pretty well tethered to me,” Hal said. “Nadira’s right. We can put our time to good use and check it thoroughly. Seems Grunel spent most of his time squirreled in there; that’s where he’d hide his riches. So far I’ve found nothing but the contents of the captain’s safe. Petty cash and the crew’s wages for three months.”

  “That’s something at least,” I said.

  “It’s not enough to repair even one of my engines.”

  We climbed down the swaying ladder to the keel and worked our way aft, the catwalk pitching beneath us. We entered Grunel’s apartment to take as many blankets as we could carry from the linen cupboard. Though we did not go into the actual bedroom, I felt clammy just imagining him sitting on his reclining chair, with his hollow cheeks and watchful eyes. I wondered if his sheet was on or off him.

  Back on the catwalk, we stopped near one of the fresh water tanks and managed to chip away some icicles to suck. We were all very thirsty. But the icicles were so bitterly cold against my lips and tongue, it felt hardly worthwhile. We entered the engineerium and turned off our torches. I gazed up worriedly at Grunel’s immense telescope-like machine. Though it vibrated slightly in the bad gusts, it seemed anchored solidly to the floor—like every other piece of equipment
in the room.

  “I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea,” Kate said, and sat down with her back against a crate.

  Nadira pulled sugared nuts from her rucksack and offered them around. I handed out blankets, studying the girls’ faces, wondering how their strength was holding out.

  Hal had walked off. Against one wall he’d found a ladder that ran on a track in front of the shelves. I left Kate and Nadira and made my way over to him. He tried a few times to climb the ladder but it was rolling back and forth too much. Eventually he gave up with a curse, and decided to forage with both feet on the ground. Really, he should have sat down, but I could tell he was in a dangerous mood. He needed to find something big.

  Beyond the ship’s hull the wind screeched and whistled and thumped, wanting to be let in.

  “I don’t think this is going to blow itself out soon,” I said.

  “No,” he agreed.

  “Would Dorje try to dock at night?” I asked.

  “He’d wait till dawn’s light.”

  He was infuriatingly calm, and I admired him, even as I tried to quell my own growing fear.

  “If we’re here overnight,” I said, “it’s going to get even colder.”

  Hal grunted. “We’re out of the wind at least.”

  “I’m worried about the girls. If they start needing oxygen, we’ll run out.”

  “They can share mine. I don’t need it.”

  I went back to Kate and Nadira and told them I was going to make a fire. I needed to be doing something. I broke some crate lids into kindling and arranged them on a piece of sheet metal. Inside the various crates was plenty of shredded paper and packing sawdust. That would catch fire easily enough.

  “You’re a good man to have around in a shipwreck,” said Nadira.

  “This isn’t a shipwreck,” Hal said jovially, taking a blanket and settling down beside Kate. “We’re still skyworthy. All we need to do is keep warm. Now, a trick you learn fast enough on Everest is to stay close and conserve body heat.” He snuggled up beside Kate and waved for Nadira to come closer. She raised an eyebrow at him.

  “Trust me,” Hal said, “this is standard mountaineering practice. We stay warm, we stay alive.”