The weather had cleared and the day’s sky was a deep tropical blue. The great cranes were transporting those who had chosen to leave the juggernaut, twenty at a time. Scoops that had once raised plundered produce to the Upper Decks now lowered Upper Decks people to the ground.
Riff supervised the disembarkation from one particular sorting tray, aided by Dunga, the tattooed member of the Revolutionary Council. They carried rifles, but used them only for pointing and directing. Though sullen and bitter, those departing were too cowed to disobey. Col sat at the side of the sorting tray and watched.
After several hours, the queue was coming to an end. Three-quarters of the Upper Decks population had chosen to leave, including many officers and most of the elite. Queen Victoria and Prince Albert had opted to stay, however, encouraging others to do the same. Orris, Quinnea, Gillabeth and Antrobus were among the stayers, along with Septimus and Professor Twillip. For Septimus and Professor Twillip, it was hardly a decision – they could never have abandoned their library anyway. As for Orris, he had been a new man since the overthrow of Sir Mormus, shedding years of gloom and guilt overnight. The four other branches of the Porpentine family were all leaving.
Finally, the scoop swept down to collect its very last load. There were only eleven people left – all Squellinghams.
Col watched as Sir Wisley, his wife, Hythe, Pugh, three younger children and a couple of aunts and uncles staggered forward under the weight of their luggage. Everyone departing had been allowed to take what they could carry in two hands, and the Squellinghams had managed to take more than most. Unaccustomed to doing their own carrying, they snapped and snarled and grumped at one another.
“Move!” ordered Riff, when the scoop touched down on the tray.
Still snapping, they clambered in and settled their luggage around them. Col was sure that Hythe and Pugh had seen him, though they made a point of not looking in his direction. But when Riff gave the signal and the scoop lifted away, Hythe could contain his bile no longer.
“Filthy-lover! Filthy-lover!” he yelled. “They’ll turn on you! They’ll kill you in the end. Then you’ll be sorry…you…”
His face turned a sickly shade of grey as the scoop swung out over the side of the juggernaut. The Squellinghams were all hanging on for dear life as they dropped slowly out of view.
Riff padded across to Col. “Friends of yours?” she asked ironically.
“Worst enemies. Do you think they’ll survive on the ground?”
“Depends.” She sat down beside him, cross-legged. “If they can do real work like anyone else. They’ll have to learn not to be so useless.”
“And the rest of us? The stayers?”
“You’ll have to learn not to be so useless too.”
“What’ll happen, do you think? There are a lot of Filthies who still want revenge.”
“Yeah, and a lot of Upper Decks people still look down on us.”
“We’re co-operating and showing you how to operate Worldshaker.”
“Okay. Don’t expect instant forgiveness, though.”
“But in time…”
Riff shrugged. “Just have to hope, won’t we?”
“What will you do with Worldshaker now?”
“Who knows? Keep travellin’.”
“But not over natives and their villages.”
“No. I expect we’ll get off the land and travel only by sea. The Revolutionary Council will decide.”
There was a moment of silence. Col’s thoughts moved on in their own channel.
“What about you and me?” he asked.
“Hmm.” She looked at him with eyebrows raised. Her face was so close, her eyes so large and bright. A knot of feeling rose in his throat. He couldn’t help it, he leaned towards her…
“Just have to hope, won’t you?” She grinned and jumped to her feet. “Dunga’s waitin’ for me.”
The tattooed girl stood with hands on hips, looking impatient. But he was sure Riff knew he’d been about to kiss her.
“Where are you going?”
“Meeting of the Council. I’m goin’ to propose a change of name for this Worldshaker. I’m goin’ to propose Liberator. ‘Cos we’re goin’ to be an example to the world and make people free.”
He went to speak, but she swung on her heel and marched off to join Dunga. In another moment, they had vanished through the turnstile at the back of the sorting tray.
Col sat on, gazing at the sky. A hundred questions tumbled through his mind. What would he find to do now that the Revolutionary Council was running the juggernaut?
How would they get coal from the coaling stations? What would they do for trade? How would the other juggernauts react to the news of the revolution?
Yet those were only small questions compared to the mystery of Riff and her elusive grin. What did it mean?
He had the feeling that life would never be predictable again. It was strange that she could make him feel so good and at the same time so insecure. How could he ever know where he was with her?
“I guess I’ll have to put up with not knowing,” he muttered to himself. And suddenly the thought didn’t seem too bad at all.
EOF
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