Leviathan 01 - Leviathan

by Scott Westerfeld

  For a few terrifying seconds the angle grew steeper, but the Manual had predicted that. It was the Huxley springing up behind Deryn as her weight slid away from it.

  She glanced up at the rig. The metal buckles were giving off an audible hiss and a squick of smoke from the

  “EMERGENCY ZIP LINE.”

  friction. But she was moving too quickly to burn through the rope. Everything was going perfectly.

  As long as another gust of wind didn’t pull the Huxley higher…

  The airship grew in front of her. The crew were already scrambling, a muddle of tiny dots swarming on the snow. That was good. She didn’t have time to make a formal report. She had to get to the machine room and back out before the walker arrived…

  But what was that? From out of nowhere a small shape had appeared on the rope ahead—a tangle, or some imperfection in the cable. At this speed, running into a knot could break her wrists—or even worse, snap the leather of the rig.

  Then Deryn realized what it was: the message lizard, still making its plodding way down toward the ship.

  “Out of the way, lizarrrrrrd!” she screamed.

  At the last moment the beastie heard her—and leapt straight into the air! Deryn whipped past it, spinning herself around to look back. The lizard came down onto the rope, wrapping its sticky feet around the cable and shrieking random warnings as Deryn zipped away.

  “Sorry, beastie!” she cried, then spun back toward the airship.

  It was coming at her so fast.

  She tried to slow herself, letting her legs dangle to catch the air. At least the membrane was squishy and half deflated. The flank was seconds away now, sniffers and riggers scrambling to get out of her way. Deryn let the straps around her wrists unwind…

  At the last second she dropped.

  The membrane crumpled around her with a whump. For a moment she was buried in the warm, smothering embrace of the airbeast’s skin, breathless and dazed.

  She rolled over to face upward, her ears still ringing with the impact, and found herself nose-to-nose with a curious hydrogen sniffer.

  “Ow,” Deryn told it. “That hurt.”

  The beastie sniffed her and let out a concerned bark—apparently the impact had popped open a leak.

  Hands reached down and pulled her up, setting Deryn onto her feet.

  “You all right there, lad?”

  “Aye, thanks,” she said, looking around for an officer. But none had appeared to demand a report. The riggers were in motion all around her, the crew scattering below. “Is it in sight yet?”

  “You mean that contraption?” The rigger turned and looked across the snow. On the horizon a squick of a reflection pulsed in a steady pattern, matching the rhythm of the walker’s stride. “They say it’s a big one.”

  “Aye, it is,” Deryn said, and headed down.

  Dashing across the membrane on shaky legs, she hoped that Alek was still with the eggs. Would he guess what the ringing battle Klaxon meant and try to escape? Or, with the enemy approaching, would some daft officer decide to lock him up again?

  The faster she found him, the better.

  Spotting a tangle of ratlines draped across the main gondola, Deryn didn’t bother using a gangway. She climbed down the ropes, swinging into the gondola through a smashed window. Shards of broken glass tugged at her flight suit, but the suit’s thick leather snapped them from the frame, her boots skidding as she landed.

  There was no chaos inside, just controlled urgency. A troop of men ran past, carrying small arms. A chorus of command whistles sounded, calling for the hawk tenders to assemble.

  But air guns and aeroplane nets against an armored walker? They wouldn’t stand a chance.

  The machine room was just down the corridor. She headed toward it, then burst through the door at a run.

  “Mr. Sharp!” Dr. Barlow said from the darkness. “What’s all the fuss out there?”

  A moment later Deryn’s eyes adjusted—there he was, kneeling by the cargo box.

  “Alek!” she cried. “It’s your family!”

  He stood, letting out a sigh. “As I expected.”

  “They’ve sent an emissary?” Dr. Barlow asked.

  “They’ve sent a barking war machine!” Ignoring the boffin’s expression, Deryn grabbed Alek’s arm and pulled him out the door.

  Once she’d dragged him into the corridor, he began to run under his own power. She led him toward the lower deck.

  “I thought Volger might take a direct approach,” he said as they scrambled down the stairs.

  “Speaking of direct, how come you didn’t mention that your family had a barking walker?”

  “Would you have believed me?”

  “I’m still not sure I believe it!”

  On the lower deck, Deryn ran for the gondola’s main door. But when they reached the gangway, it was already occupied by a line of crewmen carrying heavy crates. The words “high explosives” brought Deryn to a skidding halt.

  “Don’t want to bump into these fellows. Aerial bombs.”

  Alek’s eyes widened. “What are they going to drop them from?”

  “A Huxley, maybe? Just what we need to start that walker of yours shooting!” She pulled him away. “Come on, we’ll jump out a window.”

  At the middies’ mess the broken window they’d passed that morning still hadn’t been repaired. Deryn jumped up onto the ledge, but paused. With the gondola at this angle the drop was a bit farther than she’d expected.

  Alek climbed up beside her, looking down dubiously.

  “The snow’s dead soft,” Deryn said, trying to convince herself. “It’s an easy jump!”

  “After you, then,” Alek said.

  “No chance.” Deryn grabbed his arm, and off they went.

  It wasn’t so bad. The snow compacted beneath them with a muffled crunch, like being whacked with a big freezing pillow.

  Alek rose to his feet, glaring. “You pushed me!”

  “More of a pull, really.” She pointed across the snow. “No time to dawdle.”

  The walker was almost here.

  As they ran, Deryn could feel the machine’s footsteps rumbling beneath her now, and the roar of its engines shaking the air. Its huge feet thrashed the snow, raising white clouds in its wake.

  “At least they aren’t shooting yet.”

  “They’re well within range,” Alek said. “But they don’t want me getting hurt.”

  “That’s what I’m counting on.” She pulled him across the snow, past the crewmen arrayed to defend the ship.

  Deryn could see now what the captain was planning. A second ascender was in the air—Newkirk aboard, clutching an aerial bomb in his arms. More bombs lay half buried in the snow ahead, wires running to them. If the walker stumbled too close to one, maybe they could blast it off its feet.

  As she and Alek ran through the defenses, someone called after them. But Deryn pretended not to hear. She had to get Alek out in front before the shooting started.

  “Do you reckon they can see us yet?” she asked.

  “Let’s make sure.” Alek slowed, waving his arms.

  The walker thundered toward them for another few seconds, then suddenly tipped backward. Deryn thought for a moment that it was going to fall. But then one steel leg stretched out in front, plowing through the snow and bringing the machine to a sliding halt, an icy cloud drifting up around it.

  “Nicely done, Klopp,” Alek murmured, and turned to Deryn. “They see us.”

  “Brilliant! Oh, and sorry about this.” Deryn grabbed Alek’s arm, drew her rigging knife, and pressed it against his throat.

  “What are you—,” he started, but the words choked off as cold metal touched his flesh.

  “Don’t struggle, you ninny!” she hissed. “Do you want your head cut off? I’m just making sure no one gets hurt.”

  “I fail to see your logic!” Alek growled at her, but he stopped struggling.

  As she stared up at the huge machine, Deryn put a
/>
  “NEGOTIATIONS AND COLLATERAL.”

  defiant scowl on her face. The walker stood there, utterly motionless, as if transformed into a vast iron statue.

  “Hey, in there!” she yelled. “Don’t move or I’ll spill your friend’s guts!”

  “If you do that,” Alek pointed out, “they’ll simply blow you to pieces.”

  “Don’t be daft,” she whispered. “I’m not really going to…”

  Her voice trailed off as the machine’s head began to move. Two sets of steel teeth slowly opened, revealing a pair of faces inside.

  “Hah!” Deryn said. “They can see us for sure now.”

  Alek sighed. “Yes, but what do you expect them to do? Surrender to the superior force of your knife?”

  “Well…” Deryn frowned. “I hadn’t really thought past this bit.”

  Alek looked at her. “You really are a ninny, aren’t you?”

  “Me, a ninny?” Deryn cried. “I’ve just saved us all from getting blown up!”

  “You don’t really think they would have…,” Alek started, then let out a disgusted sigh. “Just yell for Volger to come down, under flag of truce. He’ll know what to do.”

  Deryn thought this sounded sensible, whoever Volger was. She took a deep breath and shouted, “Attention, Clankers! Send down Volger, under truce.”

  There was a long wait. Deryn glanced up, and saw Newkirk and his ascender drifting uselessly over the airship. The wind had died. She just hoped he had a good grip on his aerial bomb.

  Behind them the airship’s crew was silent, the wind almost still. The only sounds were ticks and pops from the war machine as its engines cooled. She wondered if the officers would be upset about this idea of hers. No one had ordered her to use Alek as a hostage.

  Of course, no one had ordered her not to either.

  A soft metal groan pulled her eyes back to the walker, her grip on Alek tightening. Some sort of hatch was swinging open between the walker’s legs. A ladder made of chains spilled down from it, jangling wildly for a moment, the sun flashing from its steel rungs.

  A man climbed down then, slowly and carefully. Deryn noticed a sword swinging under his fur coat.

  “Is that Volger?” she whispered.

  Alek nodded. “I just hope your captain honors the truce.”

  “Aye, me too,” Deryn said. One shot from that cannon could still destroy the Leviathan where it lay.

  These negotiations had to work.

  Count Volger made his way toward them, the expression on his face unreadable.

  Alek swallowed. Under the circumstances, Volger was unlikely to give him the tongue-lashing he deserved. But it was humiliating enough, standing here, held hostage by a mere boy.

  Volger stopped a few meters away, his eyes moving warily between the airship’s crew in the distance and the blade at Alek’s throat.

  “Don’t worry about this young fool,” Alek said in German. “He’s only playing at threatening me.”

  Volger glanced at Dylan. “I can see that. Unfortunately, those men behind you are deadly serious. I doubt we can make it back to the Stormwalker before they pick us off.”

  “No, but I think these people can be bargained with.”

  “Hey, you two!” Dylan snapped. “Stop that Clanker-talk!”

  Count Volger gave the boy a bored look, then continued in German, “Are you certain he doesn’t speak our language?”

  “I very much doubt it,” Alek said.

  “Well, then,” Volger said. “Let’s pretend that I don’t know English. We might learn something interesting if the Darwinists think I can’t understand them.”

  Alek smiled—Volger was already taking control of the situation.

  “What are you two saying?” Dylan demanded, tightening his grip.

  Alek turned to face him, switching to English. “My friend doesn’t speak your language, I’m afraid. He wants to meet with your captain.”

  The boy looked hard at Volger, then jerked his head toward the airship. “All right, let’s go. But no funny business.”

  Alek coughed politely. “If I promise to avoid funny business, could you perhaps remove this knife from my throat?”

  Dylan’s eyes widened. “Oh, aye. Sorry about that.”

  The cold steel left his flesh, and Alek touched his neck and looked down at his hand. No blood.

  “I used the dull edge, you daft git,” Dylan whispered.

  “Much appreciated,” Alek said. “And I suppose that was quick thinking, getting me down here.”

  “Aye, it was,” Dylan said, smiling. “Pure dead brilliant, me. I just hope the officers don’t give me a good kicking for thinking for myself.”

  Alek sighed, wondering if he’d ever understand Dylan’s peculiar way of speaking. But at least no one was shooting yet.

  Maybe the boy wasn’t such a fool after all.

  The captain met them in a salon that took up the whole width of the airship. Now that oil lamps were lit and the gondola was almost level, the airship seemed less bizarre, even luxurious. The ceiling arches reminded Alek of vines curving overhead, and though his chair felt solid, it seemed to weigh nothing. Did the Darwinists fabricate trees as well as animals? The table was decorated with a pattern that seemed woven into the grain of the wood itself.

  Volger’s eyes were wide as he scanned the room. Alek realized that the two of them were probably the first Austrians ever aboard one of the big hydrogen breathers.

  Seven people sat around the table: Volger and Alek, Dr. Barlow and a bowler-hatted male scientist, the captain, and two of his officers.

  “I hope you won’t mind coffee,” the captain said as they were served. “It’s a bit early for brandy, and cigars are strictly forbidden.”

  “And there is a lady present,” Dr. Barlow said with a smile.

  “Well, of course,” the captain muttered, clearing his throat and giving her a tiny bow. The two didn’t seem entirely friendly with each other.

  “Coffee is more than welcome,” Alek said. “I haven’t slept much.”

  “It has been a long night for us all,” the captain agreed.

  Alek made a show of translating what had been said so far. Volger smiled and nodded as he listened, as if hearing everything for the first time.

  Then he asked, “Do you think any of them speak our language?”

  When Alek glanced around the table, none of the Darwinists volunteered an answer. But Alek murmured, “The lady has excellent Latin. Perhaps she knows other languages as well?”

  Volger gave a slight nod, his gaze resting for a moment on Dr. Barlow’s bowler hat. “Then let us be careful.”

  Alek nodded, and turned back to the Leviathan’s captain.

  “Well, then,” the captain said. “Let me start by apologizing for any rough treatment. In wartime we have to suspect the worst of an intruder.”

  “No harm done,” Alek said, reflecting on how apologies always came easier when you had a cannon pointed at someone.

  “But I must admit, we’re still confused about who you are.” The captain cleared his throat. “That is an Austrian Stormwalker, is it not?”

  “And carrying the Hapsburg seal,” Dr. Barlow said.

  As Alek translated for Volger, he remembered Klopp’s plans to disguise the palace guard walker. But somehow a fresh coat of paint had never seemed terribly important while they’d been running for their lives.

  “Explain that we’re political opponents of the emperor,” Volger said. “And that he’s seized the war as an opportunity to get rid of his enemies. We aren’t deserters. We had no choice but to run.”

  As Alek translated this into English, he marveled at Volger’s quick thinking. The explanation was not only believable; it bordered on the truth.

  “But who exactly are you?” Dr. Barlow asked when he was done. “Household retainers? Or are you Hapsburgs yourselves?”

  Alek paused for a moment, wondering what the Darwinists would do if he told them he was the grand-nephew of the emp
eror. Take him back to England as a war prize? Publish the story of his escape as propaganda?

  He turned to Volger. “What should we tell them, Count?”

  “It might be wise,” the man said in a hard whisper, “not to address me by rank.”

  Alek froze for a moment, glancing at Dr. Barlow. Either she hadn’t heard the word “count” or she was too clever to show it. Or maybe she didn’t speak German after all.

  “Tell them we prefer not to discuss such a thing with foreigners,” Volger continued. “Suffice it to say that we are neutral in this war. We certainly have no grudge against a shipwrecked crew.”

  Alek translated this carefully, thankful he’d been practicing his English with Dylan.

  “Most mysterious,” Dr. Barlow said.

  “But certainly hopeful.” The male scientist leaned forward. “Perhaps you can help us. What we need is quite simple: food. Lots of it.”

  “Just food?” Alek frowned.

  “This is hardly some dead Clanker machine,” the man said pompously, as if repeating a catechism. “The ship can heal herself, if we can just feed her enough.”

  Alek turned to Volger and shrugged. “He says all they need is food.”

  “Well, then. We’ll give it to them.”

  “We will?” Alek asked. “But just yesterday you—”

  “Your foolishness has given me a chance to reconsider,” Volger said. “As we planned our attack this morning, they sent carrier birds aloft. Calling for rescue, no doubt. And worse, the Germans might be looking for them.”

  “So the sooner they leave this valley, the better,” Alek said, feeling his humiliation fade a bit. If his reckless trip across the snow had forced Volger to help the airship’s crew, perhaps he’d done the right thing after all.

  “Besides,” Volger said, “they’ll want us to trade something for you, my annoying, useless young friend.”

  Alek glared at Volger, who smiled placidly back at him. He was only playing down Alek’s importance, of course, in case Dr. Barlow could understand them. But Volger hardly had to relish it so much.

  Alek gathered himself, then said in English, “We’re happy to give you food. What kind does your ship need?”