Skybreaker

by Kenneth Oppel

  My torchlight picked out cables and the great rudder and elevator chains running between the control car and tail. Above them I saw the underside of the engineerium’s titanium floor. Stuck to it at regular intervals were bundled sticks of dynamite, connected by a network of wires.

  Nadira had been right: the entire engineerium was booby trapped. If anyone tried to break through its walls, windows, doors, or ceilings, it would mightily explode.

  As I pulled back my torch, something glittered. Nestled snugly between the ship’s wooden ribs was a collection of crates. The one nearest me had its lid missing—and inside glowed lustrous bricks of gold. The top few layers were uneven, bricks askew, like someone had already helped himself.

  I looked up and down the secret passage in alarm, but I was quite alone.

  I stared back at the gold. Here was our treasure. But the sight of it gave me no satisfaction. The opposite.

  I could hurry back and tell Hal. He could fill our rucksacks at least, and bring them aboard the Saga when it came. But I would not go back and tell Hal. That would take more time and energy than I could spare.

  I could step in right now and grab a few slim bricks for myself. But I had no pockets to hold them. And even if I’d had my rucksack with me, I knew I would not take a single piece. The fuel of my old dreams was too weighty, and I needed to be as light as possible for what was to come.

  I closed the panel and carried on, my stomach clenched tight as a walnut. Reaching the stairs I silently opened the trap door and climbed up into the coffin. I slid beneath the periscope and pulled the eyepiece to my face. I hooked the listening horn to my ear.

  The portable lamps still illuminated the room. Grunel’s Prometheus Engine had been gutted. Its innards lay strewn about, its huge brass cylinder toppled and hacked apart. Barton was studiously sifting through various pieces of the wreckage with Zwingli, the locksmith.

  About fifty feet from the coffin was Kate, sitting in a chair. They had stripped off her oxygen tank, to keep her weak, and I could see her chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggled for breath. Standing nearby was John Rath. Both his hands had been clumsily swathed in bandages. He held no pistol.

  I swiveled the periscope, looking for the rest of his crew. On the floor I saw two dead bodies, one of which was horribly charred. The other must have been shot by Hal. The remaining three men were ranged on either side of the engineerium’s doorway, pistols at the ready for anyone foolish enough to enter. Hal was right. They had no intention of bartering. They would shoot us as we stepped inside.

  The vivarium was still frosted over and intact, and I felt huge relief. Rath and his men had not bothered to see what lay beyond the icy glass. I saw no sign of the hatchlings. Perhaps they’d all found the pneumatic tubes and gone sailing through the ship.

  The Hyperion lurched higher in the sky. From beyond the hull came the muffled sound of a ship’s horn blaring.

  “Storm’s coming,” I heard Rath tell Barton. “The ship wants us back. It’ll be damaged if we stay tied up to the Hyperion. We need to cast off.”

  “Not until we get the blueprints,” said Barton.

  “Lads, five minutes,” Rath told his men. “Then it’s back to the ship.”

  “Those are not my orders!” Barton said.

  “I’ll not have my ship wrecked.”

  “That ship,” said Barton, “is not yours until our venture is concluded.”

  “It’ll end in death if we’re foolhardy,” said Rath menacingly.

  The ship gave another ungainly gallop, and everyone staggered off balance.

  “Your friends don’t seem very concerned for your welfare,” Barton said to Kate.

  Wisely Kate said nothing.

  Silently I lifted the lid of the coffin and jammed it open with the end of my unlit torch. I peered out and saw Kate, and Rath, who, luckily, had his back to me. I had a clear view of the vivarium.

  Not even my oxygen-starved brain could think my plan a good one. It held about as much promise as Pandora’s box, but it was all I had.

  I had never fired a pistol. My fingers stiff and clumsy, I took aim and held tight, for Hal said it would kick something terrible. I quickly fired four times, trying to aim a bit to the right with each shot. The noise was as loud as cannon fire, and its reverberations all but drowned out the sound of shattering glass.

  A jagged hole gaped in the side of the vivarium. Even as Rath’s pirates looked frantically around, trying to find the source of the gunfire, an aerozoan jetted out through the opening.

  Barton saw it first, shouted, and ran out of the way. The creature’s tentacles whipped Zwingli. His oxygen tank exploded, sending flaming debris and body parts across the room.

  “Kill it!” Rath bellowed.

  His three men advanced cautiously, unleashing a hail of bullets. Thrashing, the aerozoan slewed through the air, catching one of the men with its tentacles. He made a terrible leap into the air, electrocuted. I could smell the hydrium gushing from the creature’s sac as it sank to the floor. Its tentacles lashed against the portable lamp batteries. Giant sparks flew, smoke billowed, and then the lamps went dark all at once. Shadows leapt across the room like hungry animals.

  As I’d hoped, Kate saw her chance, stood, and made for the coffin. Rath had his back to her, watching the aerozoan, still in its death throes at the room’s center. But Kate was very weak, and she managed little more than a hobble.

  I pushed the coffin lid high and swung myself out. The air was thick with smoke and embers and the terrible smell of burning flesh and hide. Kate saw me as I ran to her, but luckily did not call out. Rath still hadn’t turned round. I grabbed her by the arm and hurried her back toward the coffin.

  “Stop!”

  It was Rath, but I knew he didn’t have a pistol, and I hoped the smoke would shield us from his men. We didn’t look back. I pushed Kate inside the coffin and got one leg over myself. Kate screamed. An arm hooked around my chest and dragged me back. Rath’s hands were bandaged up like a mummy’s, but he was still dreadfully strong. He threw me to the floor and gave me a kick in the ribs.

  As I scrambled to avoid his boots, his men finished off the aerozoan and began striding over with their eager pistols.

  “Go!” I bellowed to Kate.

  I heard the sound of whips cracking, and when I looked I saw the quicksilver glimmer of the last aerozoan streaking from the breech in the vivarium. Tentacles trailing low, it struck one of Rath’s men dead before he could run. Then the aerozoan tilted itself so it was perfectly horizontal and came jetting low across the room, straight toward me.

  Rath bolted. I scrambled to my feet, but knew there was no point running. I could never escape the reach of its lethal tentacles now. It came at me head-on like a steam engine. I ran to meet it.

  I hurled myself at its hydrium sac. It was no flimsy diaphanous thing as I’d expected, but firm as a rubber tire. I nearly bounced off, but clutched at the ridged membrane with both hands and wrapped my legs tight around it.

  The aerozoan felt my weight, and its balloon sac swelled against me as it produced more hydrium. Up we went. A few of its tentacles whipped high, trying to knock me off, but mercifully I was just out of their reach, perched as I was atop the creature’s squidlike summit. Through its translucent hide, I saw the writhing green tangle of its intestines, and farther down, the hinges of its ghastly beak, snapping.

  I rode the aerozoan as it veered around the engineerium. Kate ducked back inside the coffin to avoid its flailing tentacles. Gunfire pattered all around me as the aerozoan swerved back toward Rath’s last remaining man. A bullet sliced through the creature’s hydrium sac and passed within an inch of my belly. In a matter of seconds I’d be shot. But the aerozoan strafed the pirate, electrocuting him in its frenzy.

  I tried to see Rath or Barton or Kate, but the aerozoan was whirling around so fast now, trying to throw me off, and the room was a blur. I held on as long as I could, for I knew that once off, I would be back within range o
f its tentacles. I saw the cables hanging from the ceiling, some of them quite close. The aerozoan gave a violent shrug, and I let go—and flew.

  I sailed through the air, reaching for any metal chain and caught one. It swung forward with my momentum, and I let go, flew again, and flailed to grab another. I heard the aerozoan behind me, clattering cables as it came. I needed to get to the floor. I loosened my gloved grip on the chain and slid. My feet touched down, and I released the chain seconds before a tentacle electrified it.

  The aerozoan was between me and the doorway, so I headed back through the cables for the coffin. From behind the phrenology machine, Barton stepped out before me. The pistol in his hand was pointed at me. I brought myself up short, looking wildly back over my shoulder, expecting to see the aerozoan in pursuit. But it had cunningly disappeared among the tangle of pulleys and cables.

  “There’s one still alive!” I shouted at Barton.

  His eyes were cold and fearless and did not leave my face.

  “Give me the blueprints,” he said.

  I heard the ship’s horn blare once again.

  “We’re leaving!” shouted Rath, striding toward Barton.

  “Not without the blueprints,” the frail old man said. With his free hand he pushed the oxygen mask to his mouth and sucked hungrily.

  “It doesn’t matter, you fool!” Rath shouted. “We’ll blast the ship to pieces once we’re clear. Everything will be destroyed. There’s a trapdoor over here in the coffin, and I suggest we take it.”

  I could only hope Kate had been smart enough to flee when she had the chance.

  “The Aruba Consortium wants the plans,” Barton wheezed, looking at me.

  “Put down your weapon!”

  I turned to see Kate, standing beside the coffin, a dead man’s pistol gripped in both hands. She was aiming at Barton—or me, it was hard to tell. I wasn’t at all sure this was a happy turn of events.

  “I’ll certainly not put down my pistol, young miss,” Barton said. “But you might want to put down yours before you hurt yourself.”

  “I’d wager I’m as good a shot as you,” Kate said firmly.

  The entire ship was so wind-wracked that I doubted even a marksman could take a good shot.

  “Try your luck then,” said Barton, and he walked up to me so we were practically face to face and pushed his gun against my chest.

  “Kate, don’t shoot!” I cried out.

  Rath stood frozen, looking from Kate to Barton.

  “The blueprints,” Barton said to me, as we both teetered and lurched to keep our balance.

  “I don’t have them.”

  “Take me to them, and I’ll see that you get off this ship.”

  “We don’t have time for this!” Rath shouted, staggering toward the coffin, and Kate.

  “Not one step closer!” Kate shouted, leveling the gun at him.

  He kept coming, and Kate shot him. His hood went flying back off his head, propelled by the bullet’s force, but Rath was still standing, unharmed. His hand flew up to his skull, to make sure it was all there. He went no closer.

  I looked back at Barton, wondering what he would do to me. The hairs on the back of my neck lifted, for I was half convinced the hidden aerozoan would flail out at me any second, and kill me before Barton could.

  Something shifted behind him, almost invisible against the floor. The aerozoan’s translucent sac had collapsed flat. It looked almost like an enormous, discarded snakeskin, blown along by the breeze. But I could see it was actually crawling, long tentacles splayed out, pulling itself across the floor toward the phrenology machine—and Barton. He must have seen my eyes and thought I was trying to distract him. He would not look.

  “Barton, behind you!” Rath shouted.

  I had thought the aerozoan was mortally wounded by gunshots, but I was wrong. With impossible speed, its balloon sac swelled with hydrium. It jetted off the floor and hovered over Barton.

  He whirled. A tentacle shot out and snapped beside his boot. Barton gave a nimble jump, but as he did, the ship lurched again, and he stumbled backward onto the seat of the phrenology machine. Instantly the machine exploded into life, clamping its rubber cap over his head, covering his eyes.

  “Rath! Help me!”

  Barton fired wildly at the aerozoan but his blind shots missed. His legs kicked, his hands clutched at his head. The mechanical arms snapped up and began to circle and dart toward his skull with a ferocity I had not seen before. The caliper tips pierced his hood once, and then again and again, ever deeper.

  Perhaps the aerozoan thought the machine was some strange new predator, and it lashed it with its tentacles. The wooden arms had no fear of electric current; though they smoked, they continued to crush Barton’s skull.

  As his screams grew fainter and his limbs went limp, the aerozoan made its fatal mistake and drew closer. The machine’s spidery arms, whirling, got tangled in the tentacles and started dragging the aerozoan closer to the calipers. It was reeled in as surely as a squid on a line. The calipers punctured its balloon sac and membranous flanks. Hydrium hissed out, and the creature’s intestines uncoiled explosively across the floor.

  When I looked up, I saw Rath running for the catwalk. He wore his mask, the oxygen fueling his escape. No doubt he was desperate to get back to his ship, for we were shaking violently now. I knew what damage the Hyperion’s unruly bulk could do to another vessel. Even though Rath was buoyed by his tanked air, it would take him some time to climb the ladder to the crow’s nest and get lifted off. After that his ship would cast loose and open fire on us. I had no idea if the Saga would reach us before then.

  “Are you all right?” Kate gasped, suddenly at my side.

  I nodded, coughing. I could only guess at our height, but figured we were well over twenty-three thousand feet now. We needed oxygen. Born in the air as I was, even I had my limits. I staggered over to the dead men and stripped off two of their tanks. I fixed Kate up first, then myself.

  Three deep breaths of tanked air and the leaden weight disappeared from my limbs. My vision sharpened, almost painfully so. Everything had an aura to it: the dead men’s bodies, the aerozoan, Grunel’s machinery. The whole room pulsed.

  The ship jolted. As Kate and I stumbled along the keel catwalk toward the bow, I saw things. A chicken stepped out of sight around a corner. A vaporous sky sailor disappeared up a ladder. I swore I heard the grave signaler tooting back in the engineerium. It was as if the ship had finally unleashed all her specters.

  I could not tell if these things were real or merely hallucinations projected by my brain. I did not think Kate was aware of them. I did not ask. I gulped my oxygen like a man dying of thirst. I knew we were all in terrible danger, yet my body was just watching, patient, curious to see what would happen next.

  During the grueling walk up to the Hyperion’s bow, I felt like time itself had ripped free of her moorings. The walk took forever; the walk took no time at all. I was an old man, gasping for breath; I was a young boy racing to the top of a hill.

  Suddenly we were standing in the storage locker with Hal and Nadira. Their faces could not have looked more surprised had we been ghosts. Maybe we were ghosts. I truly felt lighter than air.

  “Everyone’s dead but Rath,” I said through my mask. “He’s leaving the ship. He means to scuttle us.”

  Hal looked at his wristwatch. “The Saga should be here in twenty minutes.”

  No one said anything, hoping this would be soon enough, knowing it probably wouldn’t be. I did not mention the gold. I did not want Hal tempted, especially in his weakened state. Getting off the ship was as much as we could hope for now.

  “We should get to the control car,” I said.

  I offered Hal an oxygen tank, and the stubborn goat faltered for a moment before strapping it on. I helped him to his feet. He was wobbly and leaned on me. Kate helped Nadira, who was struggling for breath through her mask. It was very slow going down the steps to the keel. The ship’s ribs and spi
ne creaked and moaned. Her body trembled.

  We reached the catwalk. The ladder down to the control car was in sight. There was a thunderclap, then another, and almost at once the sound of great trees toppling in a forest. We were all thrown to the floor.

  All the way along the keel catwalk I saw rigging and timbers and girders explode as the ship’s side was stove in by cannon fire. Seconds later there was a terrible rending of metal and glass beneath our feet, and I knew the control car was gone. I dragged myself toward the companionway and looked down. Glacial wind howled up at me. Only twisted wreckage hung from the ship’s belly, the ends of the rudder and elevator chains whirling in the sky.

  The smell of hydrium was suddenly overwhelming. We were breeched. The wind held us for a few seconds, pushing and yanking, and then slowly the ship began to fall. Kate clutched at my arm, and for a moment we were all silent. There was no hope of patching the ship: the damage was too extensive, and all of us so wretchedly weak.

  “The ornithopters,” I gasped.

  “Yes,” said Kate.

  There could be no rescue by the Sagarmatha now. For a moment I thought Hal was about to object, but he gave a nod.

  The stern was starting to dip; she was losing hydrium faster there. But it made our passage aft quicker as we lurched down the catwalk, clambering over wreckage. I thought of the explosives wired beneath the engineerium. If they took a direct hit, they would turn the Hyperion into a firestorm. Wind galloped through the ship, gleeful as the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, knocking us over, freezing our tongues in our mouths.

  Nadira fell and seemed too tired to get back up. I helped Kate haul her to her feet.

  “Almost there,” I told her.

  The Hyperion was picking up speed. It was lucky we were so high. The wind would brace us some, but soon we would be plunging too fast to do anything at all.