THE PROMETHEUS ENGINE
As I left Grunel’s bedroom, a ship’s horn blared in the distance. The long blast was followed by two shorter ones. I hurried back to the sitting room. Everyone was stirring, woken by the sound. I started scraping frost from the window, my fingers so cold I could scarcely move them: they seemed more claw than hand.
“That’s the Saga,” Hal said.
I expected him to leap up, but he stood slowly, as if dizzy. When he reached the window, he helped me clear a viewing hole. The cloudless sky looked like it had been carved from ice and was just beginning to show the first signs of color. The Sagarmatha sailed toward us, the rising sun directly behind her, setting her metalwork ablaze. In all my life I’d never been so glad to see a ship.
“Thank God,” Hal murmured.
I couldn’t wait to get aboard her. It wasn’t food I longed for. I would go straight to the shower and let the warm water fall over my head and shoulders. It would stream down my arms and unlock my knuckles. It would pool at my feet, thawing my toes. Afterward I would climb into my bunk. I would put on my oxygen mask and let it send me into a deep oblivious sleep.
Nadira and Kate joined us at the window, both puffing as if they’d been running.
“Oh, good,” said Nadira, and then started coughing.
“Are you all right?” I asked her.
She waved me away. “My throat’s just dry,” she croaked. “I’m fine.”
“We should be docked in less than an hour,” Hal said, rubbing his temples. “This has been a right fiasco. Two days and all we’ve done is play with Grunel’s toys. It’s his gold I want.”
“There might not be any gold,” I said. “Grunel came up here to finish work on his machine.”
“It won’t fit aboard the Saga.”
“But the blueprints will. You sent them to the engineerium.”
Hal was silent for a moment, realizing what he’d done.
“We need to rest up first,” he said. “Then we’ll come back with some proper firepower and finish off those bloody squids. I want those blueprints.”
“Why?” Nadira asked, and suddenly I realized she didn’t know anything about what the machine really did. Back in the engineerium, she’d been asleep when I had my brainstorm.
“It makes electricity from air and water and sunlight,” I told her. “Power from nothing. An unlimited supply.”
Nadira nodded slowly. “That’s worth more than a shipload of gold.”
“It better be,” Hal said, and turned back to the Saga. His eyes widened in alarm.
I looked. The sun had climbed higher now, and out of its glare materialized another ship. At first all I could make out was her hazy silhouette, but as she pulled closer, fast, her lines grew sharp and large and powerful. I squinted at her flank, looking for markings, but saw none. It didn’t matter—I recognized her. Rath’s ship from the heliodrome. I wondered if the Sagarmatha had even noticed her against the sun’s blaze.
“No…” Hal whispered, and then gave a great shout. “No!”
The ship closed swiftly on the Sagarmatha. Her nose dipped pugnaciously, like a bull charging, and then she skidded slightly as she turned broadside. I caught a flash of light from two hatches on her flank and saw cannons jut forward. Quick coronas flared from the iron snouts, and at the same moment a thunderclap cracked fissures in the glacial sky.
“Did they hit her?” Kate cried.
The ship fired a second volley at the Saga. It was hard to tell what was hitting and what was missing—I just heard the cannon’s thunderclaps, and then the Saga was listing and sinking. There was no smoke, but I saw that her hull was crumpled in amidships. Her gas cells had been pierced and her hydrium was gushing into the sky. She fell fast, right past the Hyperion, close enough that I could see a smudge of frantic movement in the control car. And then she was gone.
“Marjorie!” Kate gasped. Her hands flew to her face, and she burst into tears.
I felt as if my lungs had been trampled. My heart beat so quickly I feared it would run away from me altogether. Hal was staring right at me, but didn’t see me. I knew he was furiously calculating what Dorje and his crew would be doing. We started talking at the same time.
“They missed her fuel tanks,” he said, “or she would have blown.”
“The control car was intact,” I said.
“Her fins were fine,” he said, “I’m sure of that.”
“I didn’t see her engine cars—”
“They didn’t get hit. She’s got power, and helm.”
“They breeched the hull, but it didn’t look too bad.”
“Two or three gas cells torn,” Hal said, “no more.”
“You said she had plenty of compressed hydrium in reserve—”
“If they can patch her fast enough—”
“She was falling fast.”
“Dorje put her into a dive,” Hal said. “To get away from their cannons.” He did not sound entirely certain, and I hoped he was right.
We stopped and watched the other ship as it sailed for us. Those wretches would not have an easy time docking: the wind was brisk, and the Hyperion lively in the wind.
Kate was still crying, gasping in the thin air. I wanted to calm her. I took her shoulders and leaned my hooded head against hers. “They may be all right,” I said.
“How did they find us?” Kate asked.
“They knew exactly where we were,” Hal said grimly.
He was staring hard at Nadira, the muscles of his jaws rippling dangerously. “Secretiveness: ten,” he said.
Nadira just shook her head, breathing hard, mute.
“Hal,” I said.
“She’s been one of them all along, you idiot! She led them to us.” He seized Nadira by the shoulder and shook her. “Did you raise them on the Saga’s wireless while we all slept? Give them our coordinates?”
I was worried he might strike her, so I stepped between them.
“Nadira,” I said, “it’s not true, is it?”
I was not proud of doubting her, but I couldn’t help it. I stared her straight in the eyes, and was glad of the anger and defiance I saw there.
“No,” she said, and then glared at Hal. “No!”
“Then how did they find us!” he demanded.
“Hal,” I said, “they’ve got expensive toys aboard, you said so yourself. They might even have an echolocator. Even after we killed their homing beacon, they could have found us if the range was good. Or they could have come upon us by sheer luck.”
Hal stared at Nadira, his nostrils flaring and contracting. “I’m watching you,” he said.
Nadira turned away in disgust. “The thin air’s starving your brain,” she muttered.
“They’ll be aboard soon,” I reminded them. “We have an hour, no more. We should try to raise the Saga on the wireless.”
Some of the anger leeched out of Hal’s face. “There’s no power,” he said.
“We’ve got one torch. We might be able to use the batteries.”
He nodded. “Good. Let’s do it then.”
We were exhausted and half frozen, but we moved as swiftly as we could. We reached the keel catwalk, then climbed down the ladder to the control car. I hadn’t even noticed the wireless gear on our first visit, and I was dismayed by what I saw now. It should have occurred to me sooner: the equipment was forty years old. The radio was little more than a transmitter and spark key for telegraphing messages.
“This is a dead loss,” said Hal. “You can’t even talk over it.”
“I know Morse code, remember?” I told him. “It’s one of the useless things they teach at the Academy.”
Hal snorted. Nadira started fumbling the dry cells out of her torch. I found the telegraph’s ancient battery, and with my numb hands pulled the wires loose. I showed Nadira how to hold them to the torch batteries.
There was a bright flicker from the tuning dial, and a crackle of static from the headphones. After forty years it still worked.
>
“Whenever the crew’s separated, Dorje and I have an emergency frequency,” Hal said, turning the dial for me. “No one else uses it.”
I put the headphones over my ears. How long the batteries would last I didn’t know. Not long probably. I hoped the antenna was still intact below the control car. The spark key was near frozen, and I tapped at it to loosen it up.
Nearby was a pad of frosty paper and a pencil, which I pulled toward me. I was nervous and wanted to write my message out first so I’d make no mistake while coding it. Once done, I started tapping.
Saga. Cruse here. Reply.
I was sure I muddled a few letters, but hoped the message would be understandable. Could they hear it in the control car? Was Dorje even there? If he wasn’t, surely someone would fetch him. But likely it was all chaos aboard ship, and maybe everyone was patching madly, trying to stave off a crash.
I sent the message a second time, then a third.
Only static played against my ears.
“Save the battery,” I said. “There’s no reply.”
“They’ve got their hands full, I reckon,” said Hal.
“We can try again later.”
He nodded, and for a moment no one said anything, because we were all thinking the worst.
From overhead came the dull drone of engines, as Rath’s ship tried to lock on.
“They’ll be aboard soon,” Hal said.
“They won’t know we’re here,” said Nadira. “They’ll think we were on the Sagarmatha. That’s good for us.”
“Except we’ve left all our things in the engineerium,” I said. “They’ll go and find our gear, and the lights and heat on, and everything cozy—we may as well bang a gong and offer a hot meal.”
“They go in there,” said Hal, “and that aerozoan might finish them off for us.”
“We need to get our things back,” I said. “We need the oxygen.”
I hadn’t wanted to say it, but there seemed no time now for delicacy. Kate was struggling, but it was Nadira I was most worried about. Her breathing was fast and shallow, and she was coughing more and more. Unless she had some oxygen, she’d get even worse. And if the Hyperion continued to rise, we would all need tanked air before long.
“I don’t fancy getting electrocuted,” Hal said.
“Look, if Rath figures out we’re here, he’ll come looking. We won’t have a chance. And there are the blueprints,” I said, sensing that Hal needed a lot of convincing. “They’re in the engineerium. We go in, grab our stuff, grab the blueprints, and get out. Then find somewhere to hide until the Saga comes back for us.”
The plan sounded good until the last bit. Even if the Saga weren’t mortally wounded, how could she retrieve us if a pirate gunship lay in wait for her?
“I’d certainly like my gloves back,” said Kate.
“How many bullets do you have?” I asked Hal.
“Four. This is madness.”
“We’ll open the door. You’ll shoot the aerozoan. We’ll get our things, and then wait it out.”
“The bow,” said Hal. “They’d never look up there, there’s no point.”
From overhead came the blunt sounds of coupling arms trying to grab hold of the Hyperion’s frame.
“We’ve got half an hour or less,” Hal said. “Let’s go.”
The distance to the engineerium was not great, but it seemed like a trek across Antarctica. Every few steps, we’d stop and catch our breath. I kept my eye on Kate and Nadira. Aboard the Flotsam I had seen what high altitude could do to seasoned airshipmen: their minds strayed, their judgment failed, and they blacked out with scarcely a second’s warning. Hal was trying to hide his discomfort, but he looked gray. I wondered how I looked; I certainly felt pinched and parched. A ragtime tune started playing in my head, over and over, and I let its peppy rhythm guide my footsteps.
The door was before us. Hal gripped his gun. I hoped his aim would be true, for doubtless his hands were numb. With difficulty Nadira turned the key in the lock. The door slid open. We all stood back and sighed as the room’s heat washed over us.
Hal and I peered around the doorframe. I was hoping to see the aerozoan dangling in the center of the room. I wanted an easy shot for Hal. But I saw nothing. I wasn’t so worried about the hatchlings; I figured they were too small to give much of a shock.
Behind the walls of the vivarium were the other two aerozoans, thrashing about. That was good. We just had the one loose. Where—that was the question. I grabbed a loose hunk of ice from the catwalk and tossed it deep into the room. It made a lot of noise as it clattered along the ground, but nothing moved.
I saw our rucksacks and oxygen tanks.
“I could run in and grab it all,” Hal whispered.
“No,” I said, shocked at his recklessness. “We should stick to the walls, stay away from all the chains and ropes.”
They worried me, for it was hard to tell them apart from the tentacles. One gentle brush, and we’d be finished.
“There it is,” said Nadira, pointing.
She was right. The aerozoan was way over by the vivarium, bobbing up against the ceiling. Its apron rippled hypnotically.
“They don’t have eyes, do they?” I asked Kate.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “But not like our eyes. If they’re anything like jellyfish, they have very simple eyespots on the tips of their tentacles.”
“How much can they see?”
“Probably just light and darkness.”
“Can they hear us?” Hal asked.
“Jellyfish can pick up vibrations. They rely on their tentacles to taste and smell as well.”
“So if we move slowly,” Nadira said, “it might not notice us.”
“You and Nadira turn off Grunel’s machine,” Hal told me, “and find the message tubes. Kate and I will grab all the gear.”
“Slowly,” I said, and started in, keeping my back to the wall. The others followed. We kept our eyes glued to the aerozoan. It didn’t move. I hoped Kate was right, that it didn’t even know we were there. As we worked our way around the room, the aerozoan was almost completely hidden around the far corner of the vivarium. I could just see the very top of its squid-shaped balloon sac, rustling near the ceiling.
We crouched behind Grunel’s enormous coffin. We were as close as we were going to get to our oxygen tanks and rucksacks. Kate and Hal ran to pick up the gear; Nadira and I headed for Grunel’s generator.
At the control panel, Nadira pushed her key into the lock. Turning it off was simpler than turning it on; all it took was a counter-clockwise half turn. Immediately the lights on the console faded; the overhead lamps that illuminated the engineerium blinked off, the gurgle of water petered out.
“Cruse, catch,” Hal said, and tossed me an unlit torch.
The heating coils all along the floor were clanking as they cooled. Already I could feel the temperature plunging. Now to find the message tubes.
“They’ll be somewhere against the wall,” I told Nadira. “I’ll check down this way.” We split up, keeping our torch beams low to the ground, lest the aerozoan sense the light.
Mercifully I did not have to look long, for they were not far from Grunel’s machine, half hidden behind a small desk. Above the incoming tube, I saw the little green flag raised.
“Found them!” I called softly to Nadira. I could see she was breathless, so I waved her toward Hal and Kate, who were about to head out with the gear. “Go on, I’ll be right there.”
I lifted the hatch and saw the end of the message capsule. As I reached for it, the ship jostled and slewed in the sky, and just before my fingers touched the capsule, it was sucked away from me.
“No!”
I bent down and shone my torch light into the tube, but the capsule was long gone, spirited away into the whistling maze of the pneumatics. The whole system was malfunctioning, the air flowing in all directions depending on the movements and mood of the ship.
I thumped at the wall. I pressed button
s and yanked the tassel pull, vainly hoping the capsule would come jetting into my hands. Kate was at my side, her rucksack slung over her shoulder.
“You all right?”
“It was here and then it got sucked back in. It could be anywhere!”
I looked over and saw Nadira and Hal halfway to the exit. He gestured impatiently for us to follow. I peered into the empty message tube once more, then turned to head out. After two steps I stopped.
“What’s wrong?” Kate asked.
“It’s not there.” I was staring at the place where we’d last seen the aerozoan.
“Oh no,” Kate breathed.
Hal and Nadira were already safely through the doorway. I stood frozen with Kate, my eyes roaming everywhere, trying to find the aerozoan.
“Run,” Kate said, but I pulled her back.
“No,” I hissed. “Look.”
Dead ahead, some tentacles shifted among the cables and chains. My eyes lifted. The aerozoan’s body hung near the ceiling, cloaked in the shadows. I killed my torch, for fear it would act as a homing beacon.
I took Kate’s hand and started stepping backward for the wall.
“Cruse!” Hal called from the doorway. “Come on!”
I pointed at the aerozoan, and he fell silent. I made a circle with my hand, telling him we were going around. We were halfway to the door and the aerozoan still seemed unaware of our presence. Maybe it had noticed the draft from the catwalk and thought it might escape back to the sky. Maybe it was following the light of Hal’s torch.
A sound passed through the ship—the hammer of feet on ladder rungs. We were boarded. Hal heard it too. I saw him pull his pistol and take aim at the aerozoan.
“Hal, no,” I hissed. “They’ll hear!”
For a moment I thought he was going to fire anyway, but he stayed his trigger finger.
The aerozoan inched closer to the doorway, as if intentionally blocking our path.
The footsteps grew louder. I couldn’t tell which ladder they were coming down, fore or aft, but they would be at the keel catwalk soon, and find Hal and Nadira in plain sight.
“Go!” I whispered to him. “Go! We’ll meet you up there.”
Skybreaker Page 27