Chasing the Green Fairy: The Airship Racing Chronicles

by Melanie Karsak

  “Racers, welcome, welcome!” the British league chairman called excitedly from the front of the room. I noticed that his emerald green suit was the same shade of green as the rug. “Let’s get down to business, shall we? As you know, the 1824 British qualifying race will be held May 1st. We’ve planned special May Day events in Edinburgh and London as the race kicks off and closes. This year we’ve planned a special fireworks display . . .”

  Then he went on about all the festivities and pageantry we could expect on British qualifying day, but I wasn’t really listening. Instead, I looked around. Who were all the new faces? Several of them sneaked a glance at me. I could practically feel the target on me.

  “Before we talk about this year’s World Grand Prix,” the chairman went on, “I have some exciting news about changes that will be enacted next year for the 1825 races, including the 1825 British qualifying! Big news, my friends, big news.”

  The room erupted in excited whispers.

  “Calm. Calm. But this is exciting news, to say the least. We’ve had word that in the 1825 races, including qualifying trials, racers will be permitted to use airships with double propulsion!”

  Several teams in the front of the room rose to their feet, cheering, including Lord D’s team. Grant spoke in a quiet huddle with his sponsors then smiled smugly. If your team had a lot of money, this was great news. We were finally going to be able to use the same designs that the airship pirates leveraged.

  I could feel the blood leaving my cheeks. Around me, the Mary Stewart’s and Falstaff’s teams shrunk in their seats. The reality was that if you wanted to race next year, even in qualifying, you would need a new ship.

  Angus and Jessup exchanged glances.

  Sal tapped his pen against his paper. “I have a plan,” he had written.

  I was a World Champion. I had a sponsor. If I needed corporate backing, I could elicit it. But I didn’t want it. What I wanted was for crews who flew airships every day, the real air jockeys, to race. Flying was not about money, it was about skill and love of the air. In one fell swoop, the league had essentially ensured that no commoner would ever race again.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we also have some news about this year’s World Grand Prix. The British team who wins the 1824 qualifying will have a massive, wonderful, exciting challenge at hand. Pay close attention here. Unlike the usual World Grand Prix races which have been, historically, set in four countries, the 1824 World Grand Prix racers, including one winning team in this room, will compete in an around-the-world race!”

  This time, the room was stunned silent. Such a race was dangerous beyond measure: rough weather, uncharted lands, pirates, and god-only-knows what else. I quickly thought about what the flight path might even look like. I had no doubt in my mind that we would win qualifying, that we would take the British slot in the World Grand Prix, but now I knew we were going to be up for a dangerous challenge. We could handle it. No, we could win it, but still. Why had they changed the scope of the race so dramatically?

  I looked from Angus to Jessup.

  “Did he just say what I think he said?” Jessup asked.

  “Aye, brother,” Angus said in a low tone. Angus’ eyes met mine. We both knew this meant trouble. “Oy,” Angus called to the chairman with a whistle, “whose bloody idea was that?”

  Everyone in the room looked at us. From their expressions, it seemed that suddenly winning the British slot in the 1824 World Grand Prix was a lot less appealing to the polo players in the room.

  The chairman shifted uncomfortably. “Not sure, Angus. There was some rumbling about a new World Grand Prix sponsor, but nothing concrete,” he said then quickly shifted the conversation to the standard race regulations for the upcoming British qualifying.

  I sighed. “Well, we’ve never seen Kiev,” I told my crew.

  Angus grunted in assent.

  Jessup groaned sarcastically. “Wonderful.”

  “What’s navigating a single planet to a girl who can out-riddle the stars?” Sal whispered in my ear, but I also noticed that he had put his arm protectively around me.

  “If I recall correctly, you were responsible for much of the riddle solving,” I whispered back.

  Sal reached out and touched my cheek. “I was motivated.”

  I chuckled.

  The chairman went on and on until he realized, at last, that almost everyone in the room was bored and anxious to talk about the announcements. “All right, racers. Formality is closed. We are expecting further details about the 1824 World Grand Prix flight path; they’ve promise the British league they will provide our representative a detailed guide. That is all the information I have for now. Any questions?”

  No one dared ask out of fear of the length and breadth of an answer.

  “Good, good. Please, enjoy the rest of the night. Drinks are courtesy of the club!”

  “Fuck this place. Let’s go,” Angus said, echoing exactly what I was thinking.

  Bigsby turned to us. “Let’s head back to the towers. Want to meet at Rose’s Hopper?”

  We agreed then rose to leave. I eyed the room on my way out. Grant was crossing the room toward me. I saw his thin frame weaving in and out of the crowd.

  “Lily?” he called.

  I pretended I had not heard him.

  “Lily?” he called again.

  I stopped. “What do you want, Julius?”

  “You aren’t leaving yet, are you? Why don’t you stay and have a drink?” His upbeat tone and the sour, frowning expression on his face were entirely discordant.

  “Sorry, we’ve got other issues to attend to.”

  “Very well. But . . . issues? I do hope everything is all right with the Stargazer? I heard about Mandy’s ship . . .”

  Angus, Jessup, Sal and I all turned and looked at him. In that single moment, it appeared that Grant realized he’d said too much. He tried to smile innocently, but his over-arching eyebrows bespoke his anxiety. Angus took a step forward, but Sal motioned him to stand back.

  I took Grant by the arm and leaned into his ear. “When we burn past you in qualifying, you’ll see that nothing and no one can touch us, no matter what,” I said then let him go. “Now, go have a nice night,” I added, patting him on the cheek condescendingly, then left.

  WE WERE STILL TALKING ABOUT the exchange with Grant as we walked down the platform toward the Stargazer. Angus, Jessup, and I wanted to grab our gear before meeting Bigsby and the others at the tavern. It had been an ill-omened day. From the sabotage of the Stargazer to the 1824 route change to the 1825 switch to double propulsion, there was so much to discuss.

  “Grant is worthy of ridicule, but if he is dangerous enough to be involved in the sabotage of the Stargazer, there is no telling what else he might try,” Sal cautioned.

  “You’re right, which is why we’re going to call in the last chip we have to get this mess rectified,” I replied.

  “What do you mean, Lil?” Jessup asked.

  “Tomorrow, we will petition for a meeting with his majesty.”

  “With King Georgie?” Jessup replied.

  “How many times have we been told how proud King George is of our team? How proud he is that we won the World Grand Prix? How proud he is of my ‘noble spirit?’ Well, let’s see how true the rumors are. If he is as proud as everyone keeps telling us he is, then who better to put a stamp of approval on us? After that, we’re untouchable. And if I can run my mouth the way I hope, maybe we can even get some league changes put back to right,” I explained.

  “Are you sure you aren’t drunk?” Jessup asked.

  “I wish.”

  “It’s a good idea,” Angus said with a nod. “King George is pigheaded enough to tell everyone to sod off just for the sake of doing so. And Lily is good enough looking to convince him.”

  “Was that a compliment?” I asked with a laugh.

  As we neared the Stargazer, however, we noticed that a small group had assembled on the platform nearby. Two of the tower guards were
there, the stationmaster, and a fourth man who I could not quite make out.

  “Bloody hell,” Jessup grumbled. “Now what?”

  We picked up our pace and headed toward the ship. My eyes assessed every curve of the Stargazer as I made my way toward her. She looked okay. There was no sign of fire or damage. I couldn’t see anything wrong, yet my stomach churned all the same, and my hands started to shake. The guards had seen us approaching. They turned to us.

  “Lily,” Sal whispered.

  A small man pushed through the guards. At once, I recognized Byron’s secretary. I smiled when I saw him and took a step toward him. I scanned the platform for Byron’s ship. I saw a small, sleek vessel anchored nearby. I looked back at the secretary. The usually placid man looked hollow in the cheeks, pale, and the lines on his forehead were deeply furrowed.

  “Isn’t that Byron’s man?” Jessup asked Angus.

  “Wait,” Angus said, which I thought was an odd reply.

  “Lily,” Sal said again, his voice filled with worry.

  I took two more steps toward the secretary who moved in tandem toward me. He shifted uncomfortably. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. His hands were shaking visibly.

  My fingers began to tingle as the blood left them. I tried to take a deep breath, but I couldn’t. My head started to feel very light.

  “Miss Stargazer, I need you to come with me at once. Lord Byron . . . Lord Byron is dying. I was dispatched from Missolonghi with immediacy to fetch you. My Lord has been asking repeatedly for you. We don’t expect him to live out the week.”

  “LILY,” SAL WHISPERED CALMLY. MY eyes were closed. From the soft rocking feeling, I knew I was on the Stargazer. A cool cloth stroked my cheek. I caught Sal’s sandalwood scent in the fabric. I opened my eyes. Sal was holding me against his chest as he knelt on the deck of the Stargazer. Jessup, Angus, and Byron’s secretary were looking at me.

  “You fainted,” Angus told me.

  I sat up. My head was bursting, but it was nothing compared to the sharp pain that had gripped my heart. I grabbed the secretary’s coat sleeve, startling him. “What happened?”

  “Lord Byron was sick in the winter, as you no doubt knew,” the secretary said. He was wrong. I hadn’t known. I hadn’t known. Why hadn’t I known? “He never made a full recovery. A few weeks back, he was caught in a rainstorm and took fever. He has not responded to the treatments prescribed to him. He’s fading.”

  He could be dead before I got there. I stood.

  “Easy,” Sal said.

  My head was still spinning. “I . . . but the Stargazer . . . Grant . . .” I said, turning to Angus.

  “Go on. We’ll be all right. Duncan will come, Phineas will snoop it out . . . and we’ll see King George when you get back,” Angus said.

  Jessup was looking from Angus to Sal and back to me.

  I took Sal’s hand. I wouldn’t dare a repeat of the confusion we’d had in Athens. “Sal,” I began, but he stopped me.

  “I will not deny a man his dying wish.”

  “Salvatore.” I reached up and touched his cheek.

  “Please, Miss Stargazer, we must make haste. The pilot is ready,” the secretary said.

  I felt like I was sleep walking as I debarked the Stargazer and headed across the platform to the small ship anchored there.

  Angus leaned across the rail of the small ship separating us and pulled me into a tight hug, crushing me in his arms. “Tell him . . . thank him for me, thank him for all he’s done for us. No other person in this world ever put their faith in us the way he did. Tell him thank you. And Lily, don’t lose yourself,” Angus whispered. I was surprised when I saw him wipe away a tear.

  The pilot pulled up the anchors, and the propeller clicked on. The balloon started to fill with hot air, and with a heave, the small ship lifted out of the dock. I lifted my hand to wave to Sal. He looked worried, but he tried to smile. In that single moment, I remembered that tonight Sal and I had planned to sleep in our home together—our new home—like the couple that we were supposed to be. Instead, I was on my way back to Byron.

  I SAT IN SILENCE AT the prow of Byron’s private ship, the Aster, as it flew quickly across the English Channel. Byron’s secretary paced the deck. Part of me told me to distract myself, to talk to the captain about the flight plans for the ship, to ask her speed, to look at her galley. But in the end, I didn’t move.

  “When can we expect to make port?” was the only thing I asked.

  The captain looked at me in surprise, as if I should have known the answer. Maybe I should have, but I couldn’t think clearly. All the concerns that had been weighing so heavily on my mind fled like rats. I felt shocked to my core. My mind and body felt numb.

  “We’re thirty hours out, maybe less if we catch the wind. We’ll need to stop to provision,” the captain replied. His look had changed from surprise to sympathy.

  I put my head down on the rail of the ship. What if I didn’t make it in time? What if he died before I got there? Byron once told me the story of how he’d raced to his mother’s deathbed only to miss her final moments by a few hours. It had wounded him deeply. If I was flying the Stargazer, I would make it. She wouldn’t let him die without me.

  BACK WHEN BYRON HAD LEARNED we were headed to Calais after he’d won us the racer in Stuttgart, he decided to fly with us rather than wait for a transport from, as he put it, the middle of nowhere. We shifted our gear from the Deirdre to the racer as fast as possible before Herr Weber decide he wanted more money than was agreed upon—a hand of cards won or not. In the end, fortune really was on our side. The ship was ours. I signed over the Deirdre using the name “Lily Fletcher” for the last time. It left me with a sense of finality. Once again, I buried an identity that did not suit me. When I signed my name to the racer, I signed only “Lily.”

  Angus, Pidge, Byron and I boarded the racer, and we began our preparations for departure.

  “Wait!” Pidge called, turning from the basket ladder. “We can’t fly her yet! She doesn’t have a name. It’s bad luck.”

  “Aye, you’re right about that,” Angus replied.

  I held the wheel of the ship, its brass handles warm in the sunshine, and considered.

  “She is the Stargazer, of course,” Byron said as he pulled a bottle of laudanum from a pocket somewhere inside his pants and took two drops. He then pulled a small flask from the same hidden pocket.

  “The Stargazer?” Angus mused.

  “Hey, I like that. What do you think, Lily?” Pidge asked.

  “Who am I to argue with a poet?”

  “Shall we christen her properly?” Byron suggested. He came to the prow of the ship with his flask in hand.

  We joined him.

  “To the Stargazer,” Byron said, “may she ever outrun the wind,” he added and poured honey-colored liquor on the prow.

  “To the Stargazer!” we cheered.

  Byron passed around his flask, and we all toasted the ship. When the flask came to me, I took a sip and looked up at Byron. Was this really the man who had scandalized all of Britain with his wild ways? His reputation suggested that he might look to me for an in-kind thanks for his services, but his eyes told me a different story. The man behind those eyes was looking for something else.

  I DIDN’T DEBARK WHEN THE Aster stopped in Zurich for provisions. The captain headed to the guard station while the crew prepared the Aster for the next leg of our trip. I stayed on the ship and waited impatiently while a storm brewed in my heart. I clung to the rail of the Aster. Below, I could make out the workshop of Master Vogt. My memories of the adventure in Knidos were still fresh. It was this route that had cemented Sal and me together. But as I retraced my steps back to Greece, I was not thinking about Sal, or Asclepius, or even Aphrodite. Now, the sole image in my mind was of Byron waving goodbye to me on the platform in Athens. Would that be my last memory of him? Would that be the last time I saw him alive? A single thought beat like a drum in my head: please don’t let him die without me.r />
  I PILOTED THE NEWLY-CHRISTENED STARGAZER out of Stuttgart and set a north-west course toward Calais. We would fly up the eastern border of France and reach the Calais towers by midnight. From Calais, Byron would be able to hop a transport to anywhere in Europe. We were over the vineyards south of Reims when I decided that the ship was every bit as sturdy as promised. It was time to see what the Stargazer was made of.

  I opened the hatch on the gear galley. The sound startled Byron who’d nodded off after we’d left Stuttgart. “Angus, let’s stretch her legs a bit, shall we?” I called down.

  “Christ, Lily, I thought you’d never ask,” Angus replied.

  “You ready, Pidge?” I called up.

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  “Now, for some real fun,” I told Byron who suddenly looked very alert.

  “Give it some lift,” I called to Pidge. “About 10 percent. Let her run,” I called to Angus, ringing the bell to the galley.

  I watched the clouds. They were drifting west to east. Ahead, however, a wind was pushing the trees northerly. The propeller began to turn over hard. The balloon pulled us upward. The ship picked up speed. For a moment, she seemed like she was easing into it too slowly. Then the prop really began to turn, and she showed us what she was made of. The ship sped across the sky like she’d been flung from a slingshot. Suddenly, we were blasting through the crisp air.

  “She’s got some run on her!” Pidge yelled from above, laughing.

  Byron, who had come to stand beside me, was smiling.

  “Hold on,” I told Byron then piloted the ship into the northern wind current above the trees.

  The gust grabbed the back of the ship and heaved her forward with so much force that Byron lost his balance. I grabbed hold of him with one hand while I held the wheel with the other. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud, Byron joining me. I cast a quick look up at him; his curly hair flew backward in the wind as he laughed.