Faster Than Falling: The Skylighter Adventures

by Nathan Van Coops

  “Maybe he will,” Enzo replied. “Suspect he knows a good bit more of the area than we do now.” He stroked the animal’s head, then looked up. “Atlas, I want you to do me a favor.”

  “Yes?” Atlas replied.

  “At some point, these men are going to come in and unlock me. You can’t be here then. I’ll let you stay with me for a while, but then I want you to take Fledge and hide yourself away in these supplies. No use them knowing you’re here. And I want you to stay hidden, no matter what.”

  “No. You’re hurt. I need to protect you.”

  “You need to keep yourself hidden. If they see you, they’ll just capture you too. Won’t do us any good.”

  “You think if I stay hidden it will help the escape? Maybe I can steal the key?”

  “Could be. But you’ll stay out of sight and not do anything rash till we’ve had time to make a plan, okay?”

  Atlas mulled the situation over for a moment. He didn’t currently have any better solutions. “Okay.”

  “Good. Everything will work out as it should. You just have to be patient.”

  “We’ll have the element of surprise,” Atlas said.

  His grandfather patted him on the shoulder. “That’s my boy. Just keep thinking . . .”

  Enzo leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. Atlas sat there listening to the faint snoring of the cliff fox, and his grandfather’s slow, raspy breathing. Before long, both were asleep.

  Atlas watched his grandfather for a little longer, then went back to picking at the lock with the baling wire. The lantern at the door to the stall burned out, but Atlas kept at it anyway, his fingers unable to give up their task.

  He couldn’t say how long he had been working, but after a while, footsteps sounded overhead on the deck, and then on the stairs. He scrambled to his knees and lifted the sleepy cliff fox off his grandfather’s chest.

  “Grandpa,” he whispered in the darkness. “Someone’s coming.”

  His grandfather didn’t respond. His head was still resting against the back wall with his eyes closed. “Grandpa, wake up,” Atlas whispered. “Grandpa. Grandpa!”

  Enzo didn’t stir. Atlas wanted to shake him but there was no time. The men were almost to the hold. He tucked the cliff fox under his coat and slipped out of the animal pen, ducking quickly behind a row of ballast barrels. He watched from cover as two sailors tromped into the hold, the first man swinging a lantern by its handle.

  They made straight for the holding pen. The second man was brandishing a key, and Atlas’s heart leapt at the sight of it. But the men paused when they got inside the pen.

  “Blimey. Captain’s not going to like this, is he?” The shorter man with the lantern held it over the corner of the pen. Atlas couldn’t see anything below the heads of the men due to the wooden pen wall.

  The big man who had been carrying the key kicked at the corner with his foot. “Wake up, old man.”

  His grandfather still didn’t rise.

  Atlas’s heart thudded in his chest as he fixed his eyes on the pen. Enzo needed to wake up. He had to.

  The man with the key frowned, but reached down and disappeared behind the pen wall. Atlas heard the sound of the manacles falling to the floor.

  “What are you doing that for?” the man with the lantern asked.

  “The captain says bring him, so I intend to bring him.”

  “Looking like that?”

  The big man reached down and picked up Enzo, hoisting him over his shoulder. Enzo still didn’t stir.

  Fledge squirmed in Atlas’s coat and he had to press him tight to his stomach so the men wouldn’t hear him. He repressed his own urge to race to Enzo’s aid.

  Why wasn’t Enzo waking? Had he fainted from the wound? Or was this part of his ploy to stage their escape? What was he supposed to do?

  The men disappeared up the steps with Enzo and Atlas crept from his hiding place. Was he supposed to follow? Enzo had said to stay hidden, no matter what. Was this part of his plan? But what if he wasn’t awake to make one? Or if his injury was worse than he thought . . . or if he was . . . no. He wouldn’t think that. He couldn’t.

  Atlas listened to the footsteps cross the deck above and he followed from beneath, moving to a window that was partly open on the far wall. He had to put the cliff fox down and shift a crate of lemons over to the window in order to climb up and see. What he saw shocked him.

  Out on the deck, a big man with red hair was twirling around the dock with a girl in his arms. She was laughing as he set her down. She had a party dress on this time and her hair was tied up with ribbon, but he still recognized her.

  It was the girl from the cave. The girl who had dropped the key.

  She was holding onto the arm of the big red-haired man, staring up at the ship. A crowd of other figures was emerging from a gate behind the girl, but his eyes kept coming back to her. His hand felt for the key under his shirt.

  He opened the window a little wider to get a better look at her, and that’s when the girl screamed.

  33

  QUIMBY

  The revolutionaries in the meeting were beginning to file back to the mine when Quimby’s sister, Landy, made it over to them. Kipling watched nervously as she approached. Would she have news?

  “Hey!” Quimby exclaimed. “You’ll never guess what I found in the mine today.”

  Landy glanced at Kipling. “Whoa. Another Skylighter?”

  “No. Not him,” Quimby said. “I mean yes, but not just him. I found an airship!”

  Landy was still intent on Kipling. “Where’d you come from?”

  “I came from the Globe Mother,” Kipling replied. “I’m searching for my friend. Her name’s—”

  “Samra,” Landy said. “It would have to be, wouldn’t it.”

  Kipling gaped. “You know her?”

  Landy took his arm, whispering excitedly. “Are there more of you here? Did they send a lot of your people after her? Fighters maybe?”

  “Not lots,” Kipling mumbled. “Just me.”

  Landy glanced at the single warhook hanging on his back and frowned. “That’s too bad. We could have used a few more fighters on our side.” She released his arm.

  “Is Samra okay?” Kipling asked. “Where is she?”

  “She’s at the party with Marlow Savage,” Landy replied. “Way up top in the Library of Knowledge.”

  “A party?” Kipling asked. He had never heard of a captive being taken to a party. “Who’s Marlow?”

  “I don’t think you heard what I said,” Quimby interrupted. “I found a ship.”

  Landy turned her attention to her sister. “What kind of ship?”

  Quimby grinned. “A little one. It’s the perfect size for me. I can join the secret fleet for the mission.”

  “No, you will not,” Landy replied.

  “What? Why?” Quimby sputtered. “You know I can fly. You need pilots. You said there weren’t enough ships but—”

  “It’s too dangerous, and you don’t have enough experience,” Landy replied. “You’ll stay here. Stay safe and get ready to help after the fighting’s over. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

  “What about Samra?” Kipling interjected. “Is she okay? How do I get to her?”

  “You don’t,” Landy said. “At least not yet. I’ve been working too hard and too long to give myself away now. I can’t just show up aboard ship with another Skylighter and pretend nothing happened. They’d ask where you came from. My secret would be out in an instant.”

  “But you don’t understand. I have to get to her,” Kipling said. “I have to save her.”

  “She’s okay,” Landy replied. “She’s part of the crew now.”

  Kipling balked. “What? What do you mean?”

  “They’re teaching her to be a back-up pilot,” she said. “Training under me.”

  “You have a back-up pilot job and you didn’t pick me for that either?” Quimby said. “Why not?”

  Landy put out her
hands. “Hang on. Both of you. None of this was my decision. I do what I have to do aboard ship. But this is the final day. Tomorrow, everything changes. That’s why I need you two to stay here and wait till the fighting’s over.” She turned to Kipling. “Your friend is okay. She’s staying aboard my ship. I’ll look out for her and make sure she makes it home to Port Savage. After that, you guys can do whatever you want. But not till after we move on the library. Dex has put a lot of work into this plan. We all have. We’re not going to alter it now. You two will just have to wait a little longer.”

  Kipling couldn’t believe his ears. Part of a crew? Samra would never become a raider. They attacked the patch. They were all dangerous pirates. Landy must not know what she was talking about. Or she was lying. He studied the girl with suspicion as she patted her sister on the shoulder and walked away.

  Quimby was frowning. “I don’t believe it. I finally get my hands on an airship and now they tell me to stay home?”

  “Samra would never be a raider,” Kipling said. “This isn’t right. I have to get to her.”

  “Not experienced? How am I supposed to get experience if they never let me fly?” Quimby muttered. “What good is it being a pilot and having a ship if they won’t give me a mission to complete with it?” She crossed her arms and scowled.

  Kipling was imagining Samra being dragged out to a desert full of razor sand and dust cyclones. The kind that could down a whole patch and bury it in the desert. He couldn’t let her be taken into that danger.

  “Look. I need to get to my friend,” Kipling said. “Before the raiders leave. I need to rescue her. I need a pilot to do that, and you’re the only one I know. You say you want a mission. Well, you’ve got one.”

  The two of them stared at each other.

  Quimby tapped her fingers on her jacket, looking him in the eyes the entire time, then spun toward the exit. “Come on. We’re going to the aerodrome.” She grabbed a spare lantern off a hook on the wall and headed for the door.

  Kipling took one quick look at Landy and Dex, still absorbed in making plans for the attack, then turned and followed Quimby. She led him down a series of corridors, muttering to herself as they walked. “All these years they said, ‘Oh, you’d make a great pilot someday. We’d love to give you a job. Too bad we don’t have an airship we can spare.’“ She muttered some more. “Bunch of liars. Well, I’m done waiting.”

  She sped down a long stairwell, deeper and deeper into the mountain, gaining speed and forcing Kipling to work to keep up. When they leveled out again, they entered a cavern that was much larger than any he had been in previously. The ceiling was reinforced with heavy metal beams and a framework of struts and braces that arched high overhead. The cavern was packed with floating airships of all shapes and sizes.

  There were single-envelope skiffs and bulky cargo lifters. A few craft looked like they’d only carry one person at a time. The parts were patched together from different ships and some looked entirely custom built.

  A shower of sparks erupted from one of the nearby frames as Quimby and Kipling approached.

  “Hey, Rocky. You get my ship fixed yet?” Quimby asked.

  A thin young man holding a grinding wheel lifted his goggles and looked their direction. Kipling noticed that the man’s tools were hooked up to a mechanical framework next to his station. The framework had a spinning shaft in the center being powered by a rod coming out of the floor. The man flipped a lever and disengaged his grinding wheel from the mechanism, but the mechanical shaft from the floor kept on spinning.

  “You have to give me something more challenging, Q. Had that lateral fin straightened in under an hour. Floats nice and level now.” He brushed his shaggy blond hair away from his eyes. He looked like he might be seventeen at most, but he exuded confidence as he tossed the grinding wheel onto its shelf.

  Quimby grinned. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

  “But there’s another issue you should probably look at.”

  Quimby’s smile faded. “What? It doesn’t work?”

  “No. It works all right, but it’s running a power system I’ve never seen before. No fuel. No steam even. Darned thing runs on straight air pressure. Never seen anything like it.”

  He led them around the back of the ship he was working on, to the familiar form of the Sun Dragon. The ship was tethered and hovering a few feet off the floor. Kipling thought it looked out of place surrounded by the rugged frames of the other ships. Unlike their jagged, no-frills construction, the Sun Dragon resembled a colorful tropical fish, its fins splayed out and ready to catch the current.

  “Lighter than air but tough as nails, this one,” Rocky said. He rapped on one of the fin ribs. “Not tube metal though. Wood frame. But super strong. Not a tree we’ve got anywhere near us.” He pointed to a section of fin where the fabric had been sliced. Kipling had a fuzzy recollection of having caused that himself with his warhook. The dark, glossy wood was gleaming under the tear.

  “That’s globe heartwood,” Kipling replied. “It’s from the Globe Patch.”

  “Tough stuff,” Rocky replied. “The joint was out-of-whack from the impact it had, but none of the stringers were even cracked. All I had to do was a bit of tweaking to get it back aligned. Popped it back into place and now it’s as good as new, minus the tear.” He considered Kipling. “You build this thing yourself?”

  “No,” Kipling replied. “My friend’s grandfather built it for him. I just rode along.”

  “Heck of a present,” Rocky replied. “Wish I had a grandfather like that. Must really like the kid. The wood alone makes this thing a work of art.”

  “So what’s the problem with it?” Quimby asked, her brow still furrowed.

  Rocky waved a hand toward the rudder fin. “It’s got some standard features: ballast pumps, lifting cells, fin actuators. You can kick propel it in smooth air—swim it like a fish. But the main propulsion is this big fan system up front. He tapped on the air inlet and the shrouded fan inside. “All these fans are perfectly balanced. Barely takes any effort to get them to move in still air. But driving them for thrust is all done with these super thin piston actuators on a driveshaft moving a counterweighted flywheel. The little pistons run off some kind of manifold hooked to storage bottles and a timing system. Took me a while to puzzle it out. Whoever built this thing managed to store a crazy amount of air inside these bottles and stashed them all along the frame. They even have little pressure gauges to let you know which ones have air left. And that’s your problem.”

  “What is?” Quimby asked.

  “Whoever was flying this thing used up most of the air pressure getting here. Unless you figure out what contraption he uses to fill them back up, you won’t be able to get this thing too far.”

  Quimby frowned. “How far can I go?”

  “Hard to say.” Rocky climbed up on the fin and studied the row of gauges on the panel. “Where are you trying to get to?”

  Quimby seemed stumped by that question.

  “We need to rescue my friend,” Kipling replied. “She’s on an airship in the port.”

  Rocky glanced back and forth between the two of them. “Well, I’d guess you could make it up there no trouble, assuming the Air Corps didn’t stop you, but from what I hear, those ships in port aren’t sticking around long. And the aerodrome’s exit is blocked. We’ve got ships stacked from the doors in here up all the way through the mountain, staged for departure into the valley. Dex’s orders. This ship is small, but there’s no way you’d squeeze through all that.”

  Quimby turned around and kicked a loose nut on the floor, sending it skittering across the aerodrome. “I can’t believe it. Still no luck.”

  Kipling searched the young man’s face. “You’re sure there’s no other way out?”

  Rocky rubbed his chin. “Well, I can’t let you out the front gate, that’s for sure. But Dex never did say not to open the rear gate. It’s facing the wrong side of the mountain, of course. You’d have a long wa
y around to get where you’re going, but if you left soon, it might still give you a little head start on the rest of the ships.”

  “Oi, Rocky! Get over here and give me a hand!” One of the mechanics was shouting from the other side of the hangar. Rocky gave him a quick wave, then turned back to them. “Listen, if you get this Sun Dragon of yours into position in the exit passage, I’ll get my hands on the keys when no one’s looking and come back to let you out. That’s the best I can do for you.”

  “We’ll take it,” Kipling said.

  Rocky nodded. “All right. Don’t tell anybody I helped. I like this job. Only helping you out ‘cause Q here always helps me out when I need it, and I owe her a few.” He stuck out a hand toward Kipling. “Don’t get her into any messes you can’t get her out of.”

  “I’ll try,” Kipling replied and shook the young man’s hand.

  “Hey. I can get out of my own messes, you mook,” Quimby said.

  Rocky grinned at Quimby, then headed for the far side of the hangar.

  Kipling and Quimby untied the Sun Dragon and drifted it carefully across the aerodrome floor. Thankfully, not many mechanics were nearby. Quimby quietly slid open the door to the rear tunnel, and they slipped the airship through. They guided the craft up a long exit ramp via a passage headed toward the surface, navigating by means of Quimby’s lantern. When they reached the end, they settled the ship in a little alcove just off the main passage, but aimed toward the big gate built into the rocks.

  “You managed to keep all this a secret?” Kipling said, admiring the metalwork on the huge doors.

  “We’ve got our ways.” Quimby said. “Air Corps stays at the top of the mountain, and all the mine inspectors that come down this far work for us. Easy to hide a resistance when most of the people you know are in on it. They’ve been planning this for years. Just needed a chance to make it happen.”

  “Have any of your airships even flown before?” Kipling asked. “How do you test them?”

  “We’ve got a few caverns big enough to fly around in,” Quimby explained. “And some pilots, like my sister, have been training on the outside, working on fleet ships and then teaching us down here in secret.”