I couldn’t help chuckling. “Good one, Bronfman.”
He frowned at me, like he wasn’t sure if I was being sarcastic. But I was honestly grateful for the joke.
“Good luck, Cruse,” Shepherd said, as an assistant put his helmet over his head.
“Thanks, Shepherd,” I said in surprise.
“You’re going to need it,” he said.
I looked over at Tobias and shook my head. “I thought he was actually being nice there for a second.”
“Don’t worry about him,” Tobias said with a wink. “Remember: you’re a shark.”
And then there was no more time to talk, for the helmet was coming down over my head. I took one last breath of free air. The clamp snapped tight. We all took our places under the cranes, and the winches lifted us up and swung us out over the water. Overhead, the rows of lamps shut down one by one, and then I was sinking fast, my helmet lantern boring a lonely column of light into the dark water.
I touched down, felt my suit inflating to make me weightless, and got to work. This was my fourth dive, and though I still battled feelings of panic, I was a bit more practiced at moving underwater. My pulse beat like a clock, reminding me I only had thirty minutes.
I reached my segment of ship’s hull, a curving metal wall about ten feet high. In the pitch darkness, it took me a minute to find the damaged plate, and my heart sank. It was high up. I carefully climbed the metal rungs protruding from the hull. Four bolts needed removing, and I pulled the socket wrench from my tool pouch and began. It was slow, exhausting work, but it went smoothly. The last bolt soon fell to the pool floor, followed by the damaged plate.
I took some deep breaths. I didn’t feel panicky. I was starting to like the weightlessness, though I still hated being enclosed in the suit.
Now to install the new plate. I’d seen it earlier, tilted against the hull on the pool bottom. I climbed back down the rungs, grabbed it, and went back up. This part was much harder, for I somehow had to hold the plate in place while driving the first bolt home. Wedging my boots into two footholds, I grasped a handhold above the plate, holding the plate in place with my body. With my one free hand, I gripped the socket wrench. I was already soaked with sweat.
It would’ve been impossible to handle something as small as a bolt in a gloved hand. Luckily Lunardi’s team had invented a new kind of socket wrench, with a hollow shaft, with the bolts already loaded inside, one behind the other, ready to screw in.
One went in, then the second. I was making good time. I readjusted my grip on the wrench—and dropped it. I made a grab for it, but it had already fallen out of the circle of light from my lamp, and I missed.
Clumsily I pushed myself down the hull, jerking my helmet lamp in all directions, seeing nothing. Without that wrench I couldn’t finish the job. My seconds and minutes were ticking away. My visor started to fog from my panting. I staggered about in despair. Then I felt someone grip my shoulder. I looked up and saw Tobias, holding my wrench up for me.
“Thank you,” I wheezed inside my helmet.
He pressed the wrench into my hand and I gripped it tightly. Then he stepped back, signaled with his hands, and floated up as his suit inflated. He was already done, and I had only two more bolts to put in place.
I hauled myself up the hull once more. Got the third bolt in. But before I could do the fourth, my suit inflated and I was lifted up through the water, the wrench still in my hand, my task unfinished. I’d run out of time.
Strapped into our parawing packs, we perched on bench seats, facing one another across the cramped airship cabin as we climbed to eleven thousand feet.
Earlier in the day we’d sprinted through a series of other tests, but this was the final one.
“Five minutes, gents,” Eriksson shouted above the engine noise. “The landing zone’s much smaller this time around. We’re looking for accuracy and speed here.”
We’d already done three jumps during the training program, but I’d had even more practice at the Academy. I was good with the wings; I understood the air and knew how to ride the wind. But I was still nervous about this jump. I felt tired in every muscle of my body, and I figured I needed to do well, very well, to make up for my poor showing in the pool. Even so, I wasn’t sure it would be enough. The two Aeroforce test pilots were also experienced parawingers, especially Shepherd. I’d hoped I could at least be best at this one thing, but I’d seen Shepherd come in swift and steep as a falcon. I didn’t know if he was as good as me, but he was close.
I looked over at Tobias. I knew he was anxious. He managed with his wings, but it didn’t come naturally to him. I could see his right hand in his pocket, rubbing the bit of space rock for good luck. His eyes moved restlessly around the cabin.
“What’re you scribbling now, Eriksson?” he asked.
Our group leader didn’t even look up.
“I want a look at that clipboard,” Tobias said. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I want to know what they’re saying about me.”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Eriksson said.
“How many of us are going to outer space?” I asked. “Just give us a number. Can’t hurt now.”
“Sorry, gents.”
Tobias reached across and yanked the clipboard from Eriksson’s hands.
“Hey, Blanchard!” Eriksson grabbed for it, but Tobias tossed it to me. Laughing, I tossed it on to Perry, who kept it going, while Eriksson scrambled after it.
“This is confidential information!” he exclaimed.
The clipboard landed in Shepherd’s lap and he calmly picked it up and held it out to Eriksson.
“Thanks, Shepherd.”
“We already know we’re going to outer space,” Bronfman said with a smirk.
Tobias looked at me, his mouth twitching. “Someone never got the modesty talk from Mommy,” he said, and I wondered if the unaccustomed altitude was making him giddy. But I couldn’t stop my laughter from joining his, and before long half the other fellows were chuckling too.
“Pull yourselves together, gents,” said Eriksson, still looking a bit miffed. “We’re almost over the drop zone. Double-check your harnesses.”
As Eriksson stood, I saw a small crate, pushed back underneath the bench seat. I suddenly felt very sober.
“What’s that?” I asked. “Under your seat.”
“Hmm?” Eriksson glanced down distractedly. “Don’t know.”
“If you don’t know, who does?” I said.
“Just some extra gear, likely. What’s the problem, Cruse?”
“Someone should know what the box is,” I said, my heart kicking against my ribs. There must have been a tone of command in my voice, because Eriksson stared at me with surprise.
“Cruse is having a little case of nerves,” Bronfman remarked.
“You think there’s something in there?” Tobias asked me, frowning.
“Cruse is right,” said Shepherd. “Who brought that crate aboard?”
None of the other trainees knew anything about it. Eriksson went up front to ask the two pilots. I saw them both look back and shake their heads.
“You think that little thing’s a bomb?” Bronfman demanded.
I swallowed. “I’m going to find out.” I stood and pulled the crate carefully out from underneath the bench. It was marked PEARSON’S AIR CHANDLERY. I opened the clasp and pulled back the lid. Nestled in wood shavings were two replacement running lights for the ship.
“You’re a hero, Cruse,” sneered Bronfman.
I felt a bit embarrassed, but I wasn’t sorry I’d done it. I wouldn’t ever forget that afternoon aboard my aerocrane.
Tobias clapped my shoulder. “Better safe than sorry,” he said.
“All right,” said Eriksson, “thank you for that little bit of drama, Cruse. Now let’s get to it, shall we? Blanchard, you’re out first, Cruse next…”
He ran through the jump order and opened the cabin’s hatch. He pointed.
“Your landing si
te is that field. It’s about two miles due north. You’re going to have to do some flying to get there. Go!”
I watched Tobias’s face clench, and then he jumped.
“Cruse, go!” shouted Eriksson.
I jumped, shaping myself to the wind as I fell, nose to my target. I had ten seconds of free fall before I deployed my wings. Below me I could see Tobias. I watched for his wings to burst from his pack. They didn’t. I counted one second, then two.
Something was wrong.
I saw his hand reach back, fumbling with his pack.
I folded back my arms, angled my body and streaked down toward him. I collided hard against him, but managed to hold tight. His eyes were huge with fear.
“Won’t open!” he shouted.
I pulled myself around to his front and looked for his ripcord. It must have torn clean off, for I couldn’t see it anywhere. That cord triggered a spring-loaded pilot chute that would fly up and drag out the parawings.
The ground was coming up fast. Tobias was clinging to me with all his might. I had to make a decision. I could open my wings and hope they were strong enough to carry both of us—but I knew there was almost no chance Tobias could hold on to me, especially during the violent deceleration. Only one other choice.
“I’m going to try to trigger your chute!” I shouted at him. I needed to get around to his back, but he wouldn’t release his grip on me. “Tobias, let go!”
He clung to me like a drowning man.
I punched him in the face. I hated doing it, but there was no other way. His grip loosened and I dragged him around in midair so I could get at his pack. I tore it open. I saw the cylinder that contained the pilot chute. The spring mechanism was missing altogether. I clawed open the cylinder’s hatch, reached in with two fingers, and yanked out the top of the pilot chute.
Still holding on to it, I kicked myself free of Tobias and opened my arms and legs wide to slow myself down. Tobias fell faster, drawing out the pilot chute to its proper length. I tumbled out of the way as the chute opened and, a split second later, dragged the wings out of Tobias’s pack. There! He was flying!
I pulled my own ripcord now, and my harness straps bit into me as the wings soared. Without the free-fall wind, it was suddenly very quiet. But I got a shock when I looked down and saw how close the ground was. Tobias and I had fallen too far too fast. We needed to lose a lot of speed if we didn’t want to break our legs—or worse. Our only hope was to steer ourselves through a series of sharp turns.
I looked up and signaled to Tobias. He wasn’t very good at turns, and I could only hope he’d be able to follow my lead. Desperately I looked all around for our landing site. We weren’t going to make it. But with a bit of luck we’d get a soft landing in a bordering field.
I started my turns, pulling hard on my lines, willing myself to lose speed. It was all happening too quickly. Below me, trees were coming up fast; then I was soaring over a fence into a field and corn was crackling beneath me as I landed, dumping the air from my wings before tripping and rolling over and over. I heard the rustle of Tobias’s wings as he careened into the field, cutting a swath through the cornstalks.
I scrambled up, jubilant I had no broken bones, and staggered over to Tobias. He’d pushed himself up on his hands and knees, his face ashen. But he was alive, and he didn’t seem to be injured, aside from the bruise I’d made on his face.
He got to his feet and grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me, his eyes blazing with disbelief.
“I thought I was going to die!” he shouted.
“Me too,” I said. “I thought we both might. Those were good turns you made up there.”
“You saved my life!” he said, and hugged me with surprising strength for someone who’d nearly died. “When you first knocked into me, I thought you were some enormous bird! Lighter than air, isn’t that what they used to say about you?”
I nodded, laughing. “They did. They did say that.”
Someone had sabotaged Tobias’s parawing pack. There was no question. When we examined it later, it turned out the ripcord had been snipped and the pilot chute’s spring mechanism torn out.
Grendel Eriksson had not returned to the training facility. Our airship had returned to its airfield, and the pilots said they’d seen Eriksson get into a motorcar and drive off. Mr. Lunardi was furious. He vowed Eriksson would be swiftly caught and brought to justice.
Three of the other candidates dropped out that evening, Tim Douglas and another two fellows. They’d had enough. I didn’t blame them. Tobias had nearly died, and who knew what might happen next. I just hoped Mr. Lunardi was right—that Eriksson was acting alone and that he’d soon be behind bars. That night on the terrace, everyone was pretty quiet, stunned that we’d had a Babelite in our midst the entire time.
“I knew he was a bit sadistic,” said Reg Perry, “but I never thought he was a killer.”
“I hope he took his bloody clipboard with him,” Tobias muttered.
I slipped away to call Kate from the pay telephone, but it was Miss Simpkins who answered, and she told me Kate was not at home, and I’d best not call again. I wanted to shout at her, but she hung up too quickly. I needed to talk to Kate. I needed to tell her what had happened to me today. And I needed to hear what had happened to her after the jail incident. Were her parents going to let her go on the expedition?
As for me, I had no idea whether I’d be going. Mr. Lunardi and Captain Walken had congratulated me heartily for saving Tobias’s life, but I wasn’t at all sure that would help me.
I wouldn’t find out till tomorrow night.
THE FIRST ASTRALNAUTS
The grand ballroom of the Hotel Lionsgate was packed. Reporters jostled with photographers and newsreel cameramen, and the toast of the town was there in their evening finery. Mr. Lunardi had wanted a big event, and he’d got one. Tonight he would announce the first voyage into outer space, and introduce the first astralnauts.
I’d arrived with Tobias and we meandered about, tongue-tied, eyes skittering around the room.
“This is agony,” I said. “Lunardi might’ve told us beforehand.”
“Maybe he only told the people who got chosen,” Tobias said.
This was a terrible thought. I looked around for the other finalists, trying to see if they looked happy and relaxed. I spotted Shepherd and Bronfman, together as usual, but even Bronfman seemed subdued.
“I don’t think anyone knows,” I said.
“It’s more than a bit cruel,” said Tobias, and he wandered off to find a drink.
I could barely stand still. The mayor was here, and various magnates, and the chancellor of the university. Across the room I caught sight of the French ambassador. He was smiling and chatting, but when he snapped at his assistant, I could tell he was anxious, no doubt worried that his Celestial Tower was under threat.
I’d been keeping an eye out for Kate, and when I saw her enter with her parents, I felt a double jolt of joy and nervousness. I didn’t know whether I should go to her. Fortunately, she spotted me and left her parents to move through the crowd. She was looking very fine, in a burgundy evening dress with white opera gloves.
“Hello,” she said. She looked ill at ease and didn’t even offer me her hand. I looked past her and saw Mr. and Mrs. de Vries watching us with severe expressions.
“I tried to telephone,” I said. “Is everything all right?”
She gave a nod. “My parents are still letting me go. Sir John wrote me a blistering letter, though. Sounded like he came close to cutting me.”
“He wasn’t happy. Lunardi and Captain Walken spoke up for you.”
“And you?”
“Of course I did!”
She gave me an apologetic smile. “I hope you didn’t get into too much trouble.”
“They knew I was just the innocent victim of a criminal mastermind.”
“Do you know yet if you’re going?”
I shook my head. “We all find out at the same time.”
<
br /> From deep within the room came the sound of an animal shrieking. I peered into the crowd and saw a small furry shape dancing about on someone’s shoulder.
“Is that Haiku?” I asked.
Kate squinted. “I think you’re right, but…he’s not on Miss Karr’s shoulder.”
Haiku’s screeching grew all the louder now as the crowd fell silent, trying to see what the commotion was.
“Somebody get this bloody monkey off me!” roared a man.
“Leave him alone!” came a powerful voice that I recognized instantly as Miss Evelyn Karr’s. “What are you doing to the poor animal?”
Finally the crowd parted and I could see that Haiku was having a temper tantrum, beating his little fists against a gentleman’s head.
“Isn’t that—” I began.
“Yes,” Kate said, aghast, “it’s Sir Hugh Snuffler.”
“Why is Haiku attacking him?”
“Animals despise Sir Hugh,” Kate explained.
“But he’s a zoologist!”
Kate shrugged. “He can’t walk down a street without a dog biting him or a bird defecating on his head. Even indoors he’s not safe. I’ve seen it myself. He was giving a lecture once, and a skinny little rat ran across the stage, stopped, and then ran back and hurled itself at his pant leg. One of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen. But what on earth is Sir Hugh doing here?”
Miss Karr reached Sir Hugh and plucked Haiku off his shoulder. The moment the monkey was in her arms, he became very meek and quiet, his brown eyes huge, as if he’d been the one beaten about the head.
“Madam,” bellowed Sir Hugh, “your monkey has mussed me!”
“How dare you!” Miss Karr bellowed back. “You’ve obviously frightened him. Poor Haiku,” she said soothingly to her monkey. “There, now, that disagreeable man’s gone.”
“I hope Haiku’s better behaved on the ship,” Kate said.
Mr. Lunardi had not been happy when Kate told him the monkey was coming, but even he hadn’t dared argue with Miss Karr.
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