by Peter Bunzl
Lily gazed out at the stars, hung about the night sky like freckles. In the distance a tiny speck of light slipped across the firmament. “Do you think that one’s a shooting star?” she asked.
Robert studied it. “I’m not sure. I reckon it’s moving too slow.”
“A comet, then?”
“Comets only appear once a century, we’d be lucky to see one in our lifetime. It’s probably another ship moving along the airways.”
“How do you know so much about airships and astronomy, Robert?”
“My da knew a fair bit about both – from the chronometers he fixed, and from books.”
“I’m so very sorry about your da,” Lily said. “Really I am. I never thought such terrible things would happen to him because of me.”
“Let’s not talk about it,” Robert said. “I don’t think I can bear to.” He wiped the condensation from the windscreen and the cold water made droplets in his palm. “Da told me people used to think the stars were gods and goddesses,” he said finally. “That they’d some magic in them – and it’s true, ’cause they’re part of the past. Their light’s travelled whole galaxies, glittering hundreds of thousands of years, just to reach us. But you know what the oddest thing is?”
“No, what?”
“Each star’s light takes a different amount of time to get here. There’s stars out tonight shining from every moment in history. It’s why they each shine different.”
Lily turned and stared out at the night. It was true what he said – some stars shone brighter and stronger than their compatriots, while others were hazy, or dim. But all were a sight to behold.
“A few folks reckon the whole of time’s happening at once,” Robert said softly. “And no one’s ever born, nor ever dies, and everyone’s with us always, right here.” He put a hand over his heart and looked out at the sky. “It’s a queer thought.”
“A queer thought, indeed.” Lily grasped the steering wheel and her fingers brushed against his. Suddenly, despite all she’d lost, she felt lucky to be here with him. Two friends flying among stars. “Did your da teach you those things too?” she asked.
“Some of them,” Robert said, tilting his head. “Some of them I read for myself in his books. He’d a lot of books on stars, and time as well, of course. Time and the stars are related, see? Stars are how people knew the time and navigated in the old days. He taught me to read from those star books, taught me the names of the constellations. I wish I could remember more of them, but I can’t.” He paused. “Some people think everything’s made of stardust.”
“Even us?” Lily asked.
Robert nodded. “Even us.”
They stood in silence together and took in the great expanse of sky.
The infinity of it.
Lily peered out the windscreen. “Robert, that light – I think it might be coming closer.”
In the time that they had been talking, the luminous ball of white on the horizon had grown to the size of a second moon. It swooped and became a searchlight, which settled across Ladybird’s bow, filling the cabin with brilliance.
Lily saw her reflection and Robert’s in the dark glass, and heard the crackle of gunfire. Robert ducked, dragging her down behind the ship’s wheel, as the windscreen shattered and broken glass rained over their heads.
Malkin woke with a jolt and let out a loud, screaming yelp.
Robert scrambled across sharp shards towards him.
Lily grabbed the communication tube from its hook on the wall and shouted into the receiver. “Emergency! We’re under attack!”
There was a loud thunk – like someone bumping their head – then Anna pulled back the curtain and rushed in. Rubbing her brow and swearing profusely, she flicked various switches on the console.
The attacking airship let loose another volley of gunfire. In the brief flash of powder, Lily glimpsed the name written on its side. Her voice shook as she read it aloud: “Behemoth.”
“That’s Roach and Mould’s ship,” Malkin barked.
“So they’ve found us,” Robert said, quietly.
“Yes,” Lily nodded. A dreadful knot of terror tore at her insides as the silver airship approached. Its fierce, spiked prow was heading straight towards them.
“They mean to bring us down,” Lily yelled. “Take evasive action! Turn the ship around!”
Anna grabbed the helm from Robert, spinning the wheel three-sixty degrees, and, slowly, Ladybird began to pivot to face the opposite direction.
Robert examined the instrument panel on the binnacle. The pressure gauge needle was tipping towards the zero mark. “We’ve got no steam to outrun them,” he told Anna.
“Then go stoke the boiler, both of you.” She glanced at Lily. “Throw in everything you can!”
“Stay with Anna, Malkin,” Lily cried, and she and Robert rushed down the corridor.
In the engine room Robert threw open the door of the furnace and started hastily heaping in coal. Lily grabbed a spare shovel to help. The dark shape of Behemoth loomed outside the starboard portholes, its spiked hull heading straight for the heart of their ship.
Ladybird had almost turned three-sixty when—
Thud!
She was hit by a harpoon.
The cabin rocked back and forth, and there was a long, low scraping as Behemoth began winching her in.
Lily and Robert steadied themselves and threw spadefuls of coal into the furnace; the engine’s piston sped up, pumping frantically, but, still, Behemoth tightened her winch rope.
Malkin dashed through, and ran back and forth between them in a crazed skittering loop. “This is what happened with John’s ship,” he yapped. “And it’s happening again!”
Lily felt sick. If they didn’t escape now, well…
Anna’s voice crackled from the communications tube. “Stoke the boiler, they’re trying to board us!”
Lily looked around. Robert was scraping up the last of the coal dust and throwing it into the furnace. Soon there would be nothing left to burn.
“We’re out of fuel!” she cried down the communications tube.
“Chuck in the empty crates from the footlocker compartment,” came Anna’s curt and echoing reply.
Lily rushed into the corridor and heaved out a pile of boxes, handing them in to Robert, who smashed them against the side of the furnace and threw the fragments into the flames.
The engine began pumping double time, the mechanical motor turning at full tilt, clanking its crazed spidery arms.
“Did we break free?” Robert asked.
Lily glanced out the port-side porthole and was met with a blast of bright light. “No!” she cried.
Behemoth was getting closer, pulling them in. The noise of her humming engines filled the cabin, rattling the fittings and shaking Lily’s teeth and bones.
She had to do something, and quick. She left Robert and a mewling Malkin, raced the few steps down the corridor, and burst onto the bridge.
Anna glanced round from the wheel. “What is it?”
Lily grasped the wall. “I have to go out there, cut their line.”
“Are you sure?” Anna asked. “It’s dangerous.”
Lily nodded. “It’s the only way now, I think – our engine power isn’t strong enough.”
Anna nodded. “Fine. Do it. And cut loose all the scrap, everything tied to the hull: it’s holding us back. But be safe – don’t leave the ladder. Have you got something to break the lines?”
Lily undid her bundle and pulled the hacksaw and screwdriver from where they were stuffed in beside the box. “Will these do?”
“Aye, they will.”
Lily tucked them into her belt. Back in the passage, she struggled to open the cabin door. A blast of cold air battered her against the wall as she pulled the lever to lower the ladder.
Outside the wind whipped by. While she climbed out onto the highest rung, Behemoth loomed at her elbow, preparing to fire more harpoons, and Ladybird bucked on her line, shuddering like a dyin
g whale.
Lily yanked the hacksaw from her belt and swung about on the ladder. Pulled taut across the narrowing airspace, the towline crackled and groaned, brittle with frost, but the opposing pull of the two airships kept the line steady as Lily hacked at it, again and again. The wind battered hard against her, trying to stop her efforts, until her face stung with the cold, and her arm felt weary, ready to drop. Just a few more cuts and—
keerrrRRACK!
The rope snapped and Ladybird bucked free, jerking forward, her propellers spiralling with a sudden burst of speed. Behemoth readied another harpoon; they weren’t going to make it out of range unless Lily could lighten the load.
Quickly, she began hacking at the hanging ballast. With every line she cut, tangles of scrap dropped away, and Ladybird’s props turned faster and faster. Soon, Anna’s airship was jigging and zigging across the sky, rising above Behemoth’s hull, so that the harpooner in his hatch could not take aim at her.
There was one more rope of scrap-ballast.
Lily leaned forwards and hacked at it.
The rope frayed, but refused to break. The sharp-toothed pieces of jagged metal tied to its end clanked together, twirling in space.
Lily leaned out further, slashing at the knot, the hacksaw loose in her slippery hand, cold sweat pouring down her back.
Finally the rope broke, and the last of the scrap plummeted and fell, bouncing off Behemoth’s prow, and scattering across the sky.
Ladybird jolted, rising fast. Lily dropped the hacksaw and grasped with her free hand for the ladder, but she had stretched too far. She flailed, slipping on the icy metal… and fell…
The clouds streamed past…
A mess of flailing ropes whipped at her face…
Thunk!
She juddered to a stop with a tooth-smacking, spine-wrenching yank.
Her foot had caught on the ladder’s last rung, and she swung about like some mad metronome; the melting white patchworked landscape wheeling around and around beneath her.
Her stomach fluttered in her mouth and her heart beat a tattoo in her chest in time with the howling wind. She needed to think, catch her breath, get herself out of this. Her brain clattered against the inside of her skull as Ladybird spun in dizzying circles above her head.
She screwed her eyes shut and made a grab for the rung above her.
It took every ounce of her strength to pull herself upright, and when she blinked her eyes open, the world, though still spinning, was once again the right way up.
She took a deep breath and began to climb, looping her elbow over each crossbar. Arm over arm she clambered upwards, while Ladybird rose steadily like a bubble, and the roar of Behemoth’s engines receded. Soon it became a small silhouette, and then, finally, it looked no bigger than a tin toy.
Lily climbed into the shadow of Ladybird’s gondola and crawled through the opening in the hull.
They were breaking through the clouds when she wound the ladder in and slammed the hatch shut behind her, cutting out the roar of the sky.
“Bravo!” Anna called from the bridge. “You’ve given us enough pep to outrun them.”
But Ladybird didn’t quite agree – her wooden frame juddered and shook, complaining.
“Crunking useless machine!” Anna hit her palm against the dash.
“What is it?” Lily hurried to the flight deck.
“We’re going too high.” Anna’s white knuckles gripped the wheel. All about her, needles in their dials fluttered and pulsed, and Ladybird rattled as she rose. “She’s going to break up if we carry on like this!” Anna shouted. “We’ve shed too much ballast. We need to release gas from the balloon – equalize and bring her down.” She pulled a lever at the side of the cabin, but nothing happened. “Clank it!” she cursed again.
Robert appeared in the doorway. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“The gas vent release is jammed.” Anna tried a few different buttons on the dash, but the ship didn’t respond. Another brass dial twitched into the danger zone. Anna glared at it.
“That’s the oxygen warning – ten minutes and we’ll run out of air. Take over, would you, Lil?”
Lily took the wheel from Anna and felt the ship buck and twist under her hand, like an angry animal.
Malkin jumped up and leaned against her. “I don’t like this,” he whined. “I don’t like this at all! We’ll end up smashed to smithereens, or worse.”
“Don’t worry her,” Anna yelled at him. “Lily, you keep our course.” She took Robert’s arm. “You, come with me.”
Anna ushered Robert into the passage.
She pulled back the curtain on the berth and pushed open a panel in the gondola’s ceiling.
“There’s a rope opens the gas vent – it runs through the inside of the zep just like with the steering cables. It must’ve snapped or jammed somewhere. You’re going to have to climb into the balloon and fix it.”
“It looks dark up there,” Robert said. “Can’t I take a light?”
Anna shook her head. “Not unless you want to blow us up. You’ll have to feel for the break. The rope starts just above this ceiling hatch, and runs through a series of loops. Pull yourself along it until you find where it’s broken. I would go myself but I need to check on the clanking engine!”
She pushed him through the hatch.
Robert stared down at her, framed in the square hole. “What do I do when I find the break?”
“Tie the two halves together again, and paint some tar over them so they stick.” She reached down and pulled a short length of rope, a pot of gloopy tar and a brush from the footlocker, and handed them to Robert. “If there’s any chance the knot might snag on an eyelet, make a join on either side with this spare length.”
“What happens if I can’t fix it?”
“Then we’ll keep rising and we’re dead in ten minutes when the oxygen runs out. You got all that, Robbie?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Robert ducked away from the hatch and scrambled into the dark interior of the balloon. Carrying the pot of tar and the rope and brush, he couldn’t even cover his mouth against the particles of dust that the juddering ship was kicking up. He blinked them away, and sneezed.
Helium gas filled the empty vault above his head. It dizzied him at first and he had to take slow deep breaths to get enough air. Soon his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, and he could see a little. The space inside the balloon must’ve been three times as tall as he, or more.
He put one hand out and felt for the end of the rope. It ran along the roof of the gondola. He inched himself down its length in the dark, before he finally found the break in the rope.
Clinging on tight, he hooked the brush and bucket over the inside of his elbow and put his hand out, feeling for the other length of broken rope. It was loose and flapping, hitting the interior of the silks on the far side of an eyelet.
He’d have to tie the two lengths of rope together with the spare section.
He threaded it through the eyelet and knotted each end to the existing rope, using reef knots, and cut the frayed lumps off with his penknife. Then he painted tar-bitumen over the joins to seal them, and tugged the nearside rope to check it didn’t catch.
It didn’t.
Relieved, he picked up his pot. Fixing airships was easier than fixing clocks, that was for sure. Climbing back towards the opening in the floor, he realized that he’d been so busy with the task that he’d forgotten all his nagging fears. Once more he remembered Da’s advice about being brave, and it was almost as if Da was there with him.
“It’s done,” he called out, jumping down from the crawl space into the berth.
“Great!” Anna cried, emerging from the engine room.
“Has it worked? Are we losing height?” he asked. He coughed. His voice appeared to have gone a little squeaky all of a sudden.
“I think so.” Anna hustled him towards the bridge.
Lily, at the wheel, had already pulled the vent rope.
The balloon hissed, releasing gas.
“Nice job both of you,” Anna told them. She took back the controls and evened out their path. “One good thing’s come of this: we appear to have lost our pursuers.”
Gradually, as they dropped to a lower altitude, the cabin filled with fresh air, and Ladybird’s wooden frame stopped shivering. Soon, she grazed the cloud tops again and, one by one, the needles in her instrument panels tipped from their red danger zones into black.
They flew on. Robert and Lily stoked the dying boiler, feeding it with the last scraps of the wood and coal dust. Malkin even ripped a few damaged boards from the deck with his teeth and threw them in.
After an hour, Lily’s shirt clung to her back, and the sweat dripped off her in fat globules. She felt like she could barely go on, but then the communications tube came to life with a crackle, and Anna’s voice boomed out from its brass trumpet: “London ahoy – dead ahead!”
Lily, Robert and Malkin ran up to the flight deck. The three of them stared out the shattered windscreen, Malkin craning his neck to see over the broken glass.
In the distance, the pre-dawn light was coming up over the curve of the Earth, and Behemoth was nowhere in sight. Anna pushed on the throttle and took the airship south, towards the great city of London, but it was barely visible through the fog. When she saw the looks of disappointment on their faces, she spoke up. “Tell you what, I’ll take her down a touch. If this pea-souper clears, you might catch a glimpse of the famous skyline.”
She flicked some switches on the dash and tugged the vent lever, releasing more gas. Ladybird dropped through the smog and bobbed above the maze of frosty rooftops that suddenly spread out before them.
In the east, a red winter sunrise washed over the city. Along the lanes beneath them, pocket-sized lamplighters extinguished street lights, and tiny knocker-uppers banged on condensation-covered windows with their long sticks, tapping out alarm calls to get people up for work.