Nadira chose to sit beside Kate. Hal heaped more blankets around them. Kate smiled and seemed to be enjoying herself. My pulse beat hard and fast in my ears.
“Come on in, Cruse,” Hal said. “The more the merrier.”
“Where’s the butane torch?” I asked.
“Why? What’re you up to?”
“Making a fire.”
Hal shook his head. “Not with the ship pitching like this. Some embers spill and the fire gets out of control, we’re as good as sunk. Anyway, you won’t get much of a fire going in this thin air. Smoke is all you’ll make.”
I hadn’t thought of that. I felt a proper idiot.
“What we can do,” said Hal, “is make a brew.”
“What’s that?” Kate asked.
“It’s what we call making water on Everest. Go find a metal can now, and we’ll use the torch to melt some ice for drinking water.”
I started scouting around for a likely container, one that didn’t already contain some vile-looking chemical sludge. Make a brew, I muttered resentfully to myself. That’s what we call it on Everest. Of course Hal would know all about how to survive at high altitude. He was perfect. He was also right. We needed water. At these altitudes it was very easy to get dehydrated. Sucking snow or ice just wasn’t enough.
Beyond the large windows the sun still blazed, bobbing up and down as the ship cavorted through the storm. Near the enormous telescope machine, my eyes swept across the complicated control panel. I wished I knew what all those buttons and gauges meant. Hal might not give a toss, but I certainly did. I had a feeling that this was the machine Grunel had been laboring over when aloft. From the brass panel I brushed away some frost—and saw a keyhole.
“I think you should see this!” I called out to the others.
They threw off their blankets and joined me. The keyhole looked remarkably similar to the one in the doors to the dead zoo and engineerium.
“Well, isn’t this intriguing,” said Hal, casting his eye over the machine’s bulky lower regions. “Big enough for a vault, do you think?”
“You think it’s full of money?” I asked, surprised.
“Gold preferably,” remarked Nadira. She was already reaching into her hood to extract her key.
“Can’t see hinges anywhere,” Hal commented, shining his light all around the control panel. “If there’s a door, it’s well hidden.”
Nadira slid the key into the keyhole. By now she had learned all its tricks: she twisted and prodded until the key was fully inserted, then gave a complete turn.
All across the machine’s surface, lights silently blinked on. I heard a sudden gurgle of water and traced the sound to a pair of broad pipes running from the machine, up the wall to a large mounted tank.
“Should be frozen,” I muttered.
“What’s it doing?” Hal said, with the utmost suspicion.
Light suddenly filled the room as the hanging lamps along the ceiling snapped on. A drill came to life and made us all jump. I rushed over and managed to turn it off. There was a sharp crackling sound: along the baseboards was an electric heater, its coils slowly turning orange as they warmed up.
“He’s got electric hearths,” I said. There must have been others placed all around the chamber, for already I could feel a welcome current of milder air moving past my pinched face.
I rushed to the engineerium’s door and peered out into the dark catwalk.
“Nothing’s on out here,” I called back. Whatever was powering the lamps and heaters was confined to the engineerium.
“It must be a generator,” Kate said.
“But where’s it getting fuel?” Hal demanded.
“Some kind of battery,” I suggested.
“No battery holds its charge for forty years.”
“This one seems to,” Nadira said.
I’d done some reading on batteries in my electrics class. Most of those built in the early days were not very efficient, and they tended to give off poisonous fumes. I had a sniff and caught only a faint whiff of mangoes, which I assumed was leaking from the vivarium.
“Well, we’ve got light and heat,” Hal said. “And that’s the first bit of welcome news all day.”
Hal asked me to go and close the door so we didn’t lose the heat. I made sure there was a handle and keyhole on the inside, but even so, I felt a bit anxious when it slid shut. I didn’t trust Grunel’s doors and dreaded the idea of being entombed aboard his dead ship.
The heaters were working hard. It was still well below zero, but there is all the difference in the world between minus sixty and minus twenty.
Once Hal knew the machine wasn’t a bank vault, he lost interest. He set about searching the engineerium again. Even as the ship continued to shudder and jolt, I knew we all felt more cheerful now that the room was well lit and warming up. Nadira didn’t look so pale. Kate seemed tired, but in good spirits. I was heartened to know we would not be facing the coming night with just our electric torches.
Nadira had been explorting the engineerium, and came to a stop at the phrenology machine, with its many spidery arms.
“Thinking of having a go?” Kate asked pleasantly.
“You know, I think we should both have a go,” Nadira said with a smile. “What do you say? Since I’m no good at fortune telling, maybe this can help predict our futures. Just for a lark!”
Nadira was being awfully friendly, but I wondered if there was just a hint of a challenge in her invitation. Certainly I wouldn’t have wanted to put my head in Grunel’s contraption. But Kate was never one to back away from anything.
“Why not?” she said brightly, walking over.
“We have better ways to pass the time,” said Hal, sounding annoyed. “Cruse, what about that water?”
“I don’t imagine this will take long,” Kate said. “Matt, can you come crank it up for us, please?”
“Who’s going first?” I asked, grasping the handle and turning.
“After you,” said Nadira to Kate.
“No, no, I insist,” said Kate, ushering Nadira toward the machine.
The stool must have had some kind of sensor, for the moment Nadira sat, a clockwork ticking emanated from inside the machine. Its many mechanical arms, each tipped with calipers, slowly unfolded, circling Nadira’s head. There was something decidedly menacing about them.
“Stay very still,” I said, reading the instructions on the side of the machine.
With a sudden jerk, the first set of calipers came down, and the two points jerkily adjusted themselves to the width of Nadira’s head and slowly began to revolve.
“It tickles actually,” said Nadira, biting her lips and trying not to giggle.
The first set of calipers withdrew. The mechanical spider above her head turned one way, then another, and a second pair of instruments dropped down and gripped another part of Nadira’s head. This time she winced as the points tweaked her ear. The calipers lifted away and now a thick rubber cap descended and covered the top of her skull. Through the rubber I could see odd little knuckles kneading Nadira’s head quite firmly.
“It feels like someone’s got their fingers all over me,” she said.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“It’s rather nice. Could be a bit gentler though.”
While the rubber cap was massaging her skull, two more pairs of calipers dropped down on either side of her head. For a moment they looked like they were going to veer into her ears, but at the last second they twirled off to one side and began measuring her temples. One arm of the calipers caught in her hair and began twisting it into a knot, tighter and tighter.
“Ow!” she cried, pulling away and getting jabbed on the other side. The rubber cap seemed to tighten its grip on her skull, the metal knuckles kneading more furiously than before.
I tried to untangle her, but the little prongs were stubborn and surprisingly strong, and I could not stop them from turning and yanking her hair.
Nadira struggled to s
tand, but the rubber cap pushed down hard and kept her locked in her seat.
“I’ve had enough,” she said. “Turn it off.”
Hal, watching from a distance, just laughed, but I could tell Nadira was alarmed. Kate and I started tugging and pulling at the arms of the mechanical spider while trying to pry the cap off her head.
“It hurts!” Nadira cried out. “Get it off me!”
Hal stopped laughing and ran over to lend a hand. None of us really knew what we were doing, but suddenly Nadira came flying off the seat. The mechanical arms jerked to and fro resentfully, the calipers jabbing the air, searching for their victim.
“I can’t see this catching on in a big way,” I said. “Are you all right?”
Nadira was rubbing her head, touching her ears, making sure everything was still there. She turned and kicked the machine. There was a busy clicking sound from somewhere inside, and a ribbon of ticker tape shot out and landed at Kate’s feet. She picked it up.
“It’s your personality assessment,” she said, eyes flicking over the scroll.
Nadira snatched it from Kate’s hand and examined it. “It looks like you get a score out of ten in different categories. Vitativeness: nine. What’s vitativeness?”
“Love of life and power to resist illness, I believe,” said Kate. “That’s a very good score.”
“Benevolence: seven.”
“Who does better than that?” said Hal, amused.
“Self-esteem: eight. Tune, ten. I never knew I was musical!” said Nadira, pleased. “Secretiveness…” She trailed off.
“Ten,” said Hal, peering over her shoulder. “No surprise there.”
Nadira took a step away and kept reading. “Individuality: ten. Cautiousness: three. Combativeness: nine.” She looked over and gave me a wink. “Well, what did you expect from a pirate’s daughter? Hope: eight. Amativeness. What’s that?”
Kate actually blushed. “I think it has something to do with your attractiveness to the opposite sex.”
“Ten,” said Nadira, smiling modestly.
“Gosh,” said Kate, “I’d say you scored awfully well.”
“It’s just a silly machine,” said Nadira, folding away her piece of paper. “Are you going to have your go?”
“Absolutely not,” I insisted. “The thing’s murderous.”
Kate looked crestfallen. “I really did want to see my scores.”
“I suppose Matt’s right,” said Nadira. “What a shame.”
“Load of nonsense,” said Hal. “Cruse, there’s a bucket over there, perfect for water. Grunel’s machine is making me thirsty.”
And me as well, for within its vast metal innards the contraption made a faint but constant gurgle. The bucket Hal pointed out was full of sand. I suppose this was what Grunel had used as a fire extinguisher before he invented his own. I banged out the sand in a solid block.
“Someone needs to go with you,” Hal said, as I headed for the door.
“I’m fine.”
“No one goes alone. Kate, go with him. I’d send Nadira, but with all that amativeness, she and Cruse might get up to mischief.”
Hal chuckled at his own joke, but Kate could not have looked less amused. She grabbed her torch from her rucksack and walked over, staring past me. I felt very glum. The engineerium’s vaultlike door opened easily, and I left it ajar as we ventured out onto the catwalk.
After the lighted room, the darkness and cold were even more oppressive. In silence we walked toward the water tanks. I used the sharp end of my pry bar to chisel at the ice. Kate picked up the pieces and put them in the bucket.
All around us the Hyperion was alive with sounds I did not recognize. I felt as if the storm had awoken the ship and ghostly crew. My hair raised at the sound of an odd clanking.
“What was that?” Kate asked, trying to sound merely interested.
“Just a loose elevator chain,” I said.
“What about that wheezing noise?”
“Air blowing against an intake vent,” I replied.
“Are you lying to me?”
“As best I can, yes.”
“You don’t need to lie to me,” she said testily, “I’m not a child.”
“Fine. I have no idea what these sounds are. That thumping noise? For all I know it might be the dead, marching toward us.”
The ship heeled over, righted herself sharply, and somewhere a door slammed shut with the force of an explosion.
Kate clutched my arm. I clutched back.
“The wind,” I told her.
“It sounded like it came from Grunel’s apartment.”
“He’s just trying to stay fit.”
She did not laugh.
“Don’t be scared,” I said, touching her shoulder. “I’d never let any harm come to you.”
She turned away from me. “You’re a liar,” she said tightly.
“What do you mean?”
For a moment she said nothing. “I saw you. Kissing her.”
I was glad she had her back to me, for the face I wore must have been the stupidest, gape-mouthed thing in the world.
“But…I asked if you were angry with me, and you never said anything!”
She turned to me, eyes flashing. “Of course I saw you kissing her. I was halfway up the ladder! How could I have missed it?”
“I didn’t hear you!”
“I’m not surprised. You seemed thoroughly engrossed.”
“And what about you and Hal?” I said, starting to feel some indignation of my own. “The dancing, all the compliments and cozy little chats!”
“Why not? I could see the way you looked at Nadira. Even before you kissed her.”
“She kissed me, actually.”
“Perhaps I should’ve let Hal kiss me.”
“You wanted him to?”
“He’s very appealing.”
“Maybe you should marry him then,” I said recklessly. “Or has he already proposed? He means to take you for his wife.”
“Take me for his wife?” Kate said with a laugh, which I hoped was disdainful. “He said that?”
I nodded miserably.
“As if I had no say in the matter?” she exclaimed.
“And what would you say?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking.
The ship lurched and groaned around us. I waited for her answer.
“I’d say no,” she said.
I started to smile.
“I have no intention of marrying anyone just now,” she added. “Least of all a wretch like you.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“It’s not your fault you’re attracted to her. She’s very beautiful.”
I shook my head. “It’s you I crave.”
“Then why’ve you been avoiding me?”
“I’ve just been busy. And you’ve been so unfriendly. I thought you’d lost interest in me.”
“You’re such an idiot. I was just trying to make you jealous.”
“It worked.”
Her face lit up. “Did it? I was never sure. Were you utterly miserable?”
“Utterly.”
“So was I.”
I took her hand. “If my heart were a compass, you’d be North.”
“That,” she said, “is a very romantic thing to say. But it seems the needle swings a bit to Nadira too.”
“A little magnetic disturbance,” I said. “Nothing more.”
“She scored a perfect ten, Matt.”
“You’d have scored eleven. Anyway, what about you and Hal?”
“I do hope he proposes!”
“Kate!”
“Only so I could say someone’s proposed to me. You know the answer’s no.”
“Just for now?”
“Just for ever. He’s a bit of a bully at heart.”
“Old Hal’s not so bad,” I said, feeling incredibly generous.
“He’s a natural leader,” she said. “They’re all arrogant. They need to be.”
I was suddenly so happy
I put my arms around her and pulled her fur-clad body against mine. “I’ve really missed you,” I said.
“Likewise.”
It was not the most satisfying kiss. Our faces were numb with cold, our lips chapped, but it did not matter. I was just so glad to have her close and breathe her in. Better than oxygen she was.
“We should get back,” I said reluctantly.
The ice made surprisingly little water once it was melted. But it was enough for each of us to slake our thirst. Now that I knew Kate and I were all right again, nothing seemed so bad—not the ship’s violent rocking, not the fact that our treasure hunt had so far brought us next to nothing. As soon as the wind died down, the Saga would be back and take us off—and what happened after that, I did not care to think about.
Hal set us all to work, searching different areas of the engineerium. He looked a bit weary, and did not seem as big as before. As the room warmed up, everyone was pulling off their hoods and gloves and unbuttoning their sky suits a bit. My toes were starting to thaw. It felt almost balmy. I was busy checking through some crates when a hissing sound pulled my gaze to the aerozoan’s vivarium. Inside, water was spraying against the glass, running down in rivulets that melted the frost. Kate had noticed it too. Together we ventured to the door and cautiously pulled it open. We peered inside. The ceiling here was dotted with small sprinklers, now vigorously spinning and sending a dense mist through the chamber.
“That makes sense,” said Kate. “Every living thing needs water. He’d have to water them in captivity.”
The sprinklers turned off. They must have been on some kind of clockwork mechanism.
“How do you think they got their water in the wild?” she asked.
“Probably rain clouds,” I replied. “Do you suppose they froze to death, trapped up here?”
Kate was shaking her head. “Remember those bugs I collected? They weren’t frozen. The aerozoans must produce the same kind of anti-freezing chemical.”
“They’d keep getting food through the vents,” I said.
Kate nodded. “But if the sprinklers didn’t work, they’d eventually dehydrate and die.”
It was good to be talking with her like this again, puzzling over things, just like old times. She was so curious and full of wonder. Making sure no one was watching, I took her hand in mine and felt her fingers squeeze back. And I thought: home. It took me completely by surprise. But I suppose that once you bid farewell to your first home, you’re always looking for another—that place where you can feel happy and strong and at your best. For three years I’d called the Aurora home. But now that I lived in Paris, it was not the city itself that was home. It was Kate.
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