Take Back the Skies

by Lucy Saxon

  She had to admit, she preferred the latter.

  Cat woke when a hand shook her shoulder. She blinked and squinted up at the face looming above her. She squawked as she realised Fox was standing over her bed, staring at her in amusement as she instinctively pulled the blanket up to her chin.

  ‘Easy, there. It’s half past six. I thought you might want to be up for breakfast. Also, Alice left these outside your room.’ He held up a sack which Cat assumed was full of clothes. ‘You’ll get used to waking in the dark – if you had a proper porthole, you’d be getting sunrise at four in the morning,’ he remarked, glancing up at the small porthole in the wall over her desk, which glowed dimly with the morning light.

  Cat growled at the prospect of such an early hour, making Fox chuckle.

  ‘I’ll see you at breakfast. Don’t take too long, or Matt will have eaten your serving.’ With that he left, the room becoming silent save for the faint hiss of steam through the pipes in the walls, and the rhythmic chugging of the propellers, prompting her to realise her room was towards the stern of the ship.

  She dug through the sack of clothes. Clearly Fox’s style hadn’t changed much since he was her age; smart collared shirts, waistcoats, trousers, knitted jumpers and buckled leather coats, and even a long winter overcoat and a pair of sturdy knee-high boots similar to the ones he wore now. She grinned to herself, imagining she’d look rather like his miniature once she was dressed, except for her brown hair, of course.

  She picked out some black trousers, which were baggy on her, as well as a dark blue shirt and a black leather waistcoat. Buckling the heavy boots over sock-clad feet, Cat gave herself a once-over in the mirror to check she looked suitably boyish. It was odd, not getting ready for worship at the end of the week. Did the crew even observe Anglyan religion? Maybe she would ask some time, if she grew brave enough. She crossed the corridor to the galley, where the noise drifting from the open door told her she was the last one to arrive.

  ‘Morning. Did you sleep well?’ Alice asked as she entered. ‘I know some people can’t sleep when the ship rocks, but we had quite a smooth flight last night. We shouldn’t hit the Siberene storm barriers for another few days or so yet.’

  Cat stretched her arms out as she sat, hearing her shoulders pop. Harry was absent, and Cat presumed he was on shift.

  ‘I slept like a log, thank you. Thanks,’ she added gratefully as a bowl of porridge was placed in front of her. Reaching past Ben for the pot of honey on the table, she poured in a small amount and mixed the golden liquid into the thick porridge. ‘Does it usually take so long to get to the barriers?’

  ‘Not usually, but we like to take our time. If we work too efficiently, the guards will start getting suspicious. Besides, Harry thought you might like a few days to settle in before we bring you into the business,’ Alice explained. Cat raised her eyebrows, pleased and surprised at their thoughtfulness.

  ‘Ready for a hard day’s work, sprog?’ Matt asked.

  ‘Always,’ she replied.

  ‘That’s the spirit. We got a little battered last trip, and some of the plates are sticking. Nothing serious,’ he added in response to Alice’s worried look. ‘We’ll have it fixed no problem. Ben, just do your best to keep us out of the worst of it, if you can.’

  Ben smiled, his brown eyes meeting Matt’s gaze confidently.

  ‘Sure. There’s a relatively clear patch to the West that we should be able to squeeze through, if it’s still around when we get there. Besides, when have you known me to fly us into a rough patch?’

  Matt merely raised an eyebrow, bringing a faint flush to Ben’s pale cheeks.

  ‘Where are we going, anyway?’ Cat blurted out without thinking. ‘I mean, I know we’re headed to Siberene, but … how do you manage to smuggle goods in without being noticed? I know Siberene isn’t particularly involved in the war, but surely there are Anglyan guards at every shipyard,’ she said. It was customary to have Anglyan soldiers present in every country under Anglyan rule, to monitor trading.

  Her question earned a shared look from everyone in the crew, giving her the impression she was missing something.

  ‘What?’

  ‘He’ll learn when we get there. It’ll be easier to explain then,’ Fox said from across the table.

  ‘What will I learn? What’s going on in Siberene?’

  Matt smiled at her, somewhat apologetically.

  ‘You’ll see when we get there, sprog. Just … remember that things aren’t always what they seem, and the newscasts don’t always tell the whole truth.’ His statement only served to confuse Cat, who looked around the table for clarification. When they all stayed stone-faced under her gaze, she gave up and went back to eating the last of her porridge.

  ‘I’d better go and relieve Harry,’ Ben declared, getting to his feet.

  ‘You coming, then?’ Matt asked with a glance at Cat. Standing, he leaned down to press a kiss to Alice’s cheek. ‘Delicious as always, sweetheart. I’ll see you for lunch.’

  Alice tutted.

  ‘You and your stomach, Matthew Wylde,’ she muttered fondly. ‘Go on, the lot of you. You’ve got work to do. We’ll need to have something to show for ourselves at Syvana.’

  Cat followed Matt from the room and down the manhole to the floor below.

  ‘I’ll start you off with the basics,’ Matt told her, leading her through to the engine room. ‘Most of the steering system’s parts are kept here.’ He gestured to a large gear plate with a clear glass casing, right next to the furnace, and Cat almost groaned. She couldn’t remove any more layers than she had already or she’d give herself away, but the heat was sweltering. ‘They connect to belts that run through the walls, from the struts of the wings to Ben’s control panel. The propeller motors are over there.’ He pointed across the room, where Cat could see four large cog towers, one of which was rotating.

  ‘What do you do if one of the belts in the walls breaks?’ she asked curiously.

  ‘Send a wee brat like you in the gaps to fix it,’ he retorted.

  ‘But surely I wouldn’t fit!’ Her eyes widened, making him chuckle.

  ‘Calm down, brat, I’m only joking.’ Matt rolled his eyes, amused. ‘You Greystone lot are an odd bunch. Always taking things so seriously.’ Cat tried to look offended at his words. With any luck, her so-called Greystone background would account for any other oddities they might notice. Most folk thought people from Greystone were strange, in an odd limbo between the commoners and the government.

  She heard a creak, and Fox walked through the door. Unbuttoning his waistcoat, he draped it over a low-hanging pipe, rolling his flared sleeves up to his elbows.

  Matt was grinning.

  ‘Come to give us a hand, Fox? Better than sitting around doing sod all, I suppose.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Fox agreed, moving to stand beside Cat. ‘But why don’t we let the sprog give it a go. See how good he is.’ Cat huffed at the raised eyebrow Fox directed at her, her eyes slipping to the small triangle of exposed skin at the base of his throat.

  ‘He’s good enough,’ Matt assured Fox. ‘But go on, then, Cat. See if you can find the problem.’ He handed her the screwdriver.

  Sweating uncomfortably, she turned to the encased gear plate. First, she unhooked the casing, eyes scanning the ordered entanglement of cogs, sprockets and chains. Before she could get too engrossed she was startled by a loud metallic clang, followed by a short bark of laughter. When she turned, Matt was rubbing his forehead and scowling at a steam pipe protruding a few inches from the ceiling.

  ‘Every bloody time,’ he grumbled, and Cat suppressed a laugh, meeting Fox’s amused gaze.

  ‘You’ll get used to that,’ he told her. ‘Five years, and Matt still can’t remember which parts are lower than others.’

  Cat smiled at Matt’s sheepish look and turned back to her work. At first, everything seemed to be working normally … until she noticed a stretched link on one of the chains, which caused a bit of jarring when it pas
sed between two gears.

  ‘You need to change that chain. Is there a replacement in here or next door?’ she asked, turning her head. She was surprised to see that Fox had stripped to his undershirt and was working on tightening an overhead piston. Her cheeks flushed as she tried to ignore the sight of his tensed biceps. She felt a strange sensation in her stomach, which was quickly replaced by a feeling of dread. She’d heard other girls talk about that type of feeling at the government school she’d attended, and in her current situation, it didn’t bode well. No, she decided, this was just not the time. She had to act like a boy.

  ‘Nice eye, lad,’ Matt said, rummaging in a box and handing her the correct chain, clearly unaware of her current dilemma. ‘You’ll have to be quick about it, though. We can’t have the steering offline for more than a few seconds.’

  ‘No pressure or anything,’ Fox piped up wryly, ruining her hopes of ignoring him. Cat turned back to the gear plate, staring at the chain. It was awfully long, and the top was hooked to a gear very high up.

  ‘I’m not sure if I can reach,’ she admitted, standing on tiptoe and stretching up to test.

  ‘I’ll give you a hand, shortie,’ Fox assured her. She bit her lip as he stepped close, taking one end of the chain from her hands. The heat in the room seemed to increase tenfold as Fox leaned over her, reaching the gear easily.

  ‘On three,’ he murmured, fingers poised and ready.

  ‘One, two, three.’ On the last count, Cat quickly unhooked the chain from its cog, waiting two beats before looping the new one tightly in place, and clipping the two ends together before the chain could tangle. She stepped back in satisfaction, nearly colliding with Fox, the redhead squeezing her shoulder.

  ‘Easy does it, brat. Not bad, though. Let’s see how you do with some of our more complicated pieces.’ As she turned, he wiped a hand across his forehead, pulled his undershirt off and dropped it to the floor to join his shirt and waistcoat. Cat’s cheeks turned a fiery red upon seeing his bare chest, and she resisted the urge to groan. She’d never been attracted to anyone before; why did it have to start now?

  Chapter 5

  For the first time since arriving on the Stormdancer, Cat managed to wake up at the right time on her own. It had only taken her four days to get used to the schedule. She shuffled into the galley, rubbing her eyes.

  ‘Sleep well?’ Fox asked as she slid on to the bench beside him, earning himself an annoyed look.

  ‘Who decided that this unreasonable hour would be the perfect time to start the day?’ she grumbled. But things improved as Alice placed a steaming plate of eggs and ham in front of her. Cat was surprised by the richness of the fare Alice fed them, but didn’t comment, assuming their travelling allowed them to escape the rationing.

  ‘I believe that would be the sun, when it decided to rise at dawn,’ Ben remarked as he dropped into his own seat with a yawn. ‘Are you all right? You sound a little … off.’

  Cat’s eyes widened a fraction, and she coughed, making a mental note to remember to disguise her natural voice. She welcomed the distraction when Matt bounded into the room, smiling brightly and looking perfectly refreshed. His green eyes were alert, and he clapped Ben heartily on the back as he swung his long legs over the bench.

  ‘Good morning!’ he greeted chirpily.

  Ben shot him a glare. ‘It’s far too early for you to be so bloody chipper. Especially since I was up all night in the control room.’ Matt’s bright grin immediately became a worried frown as he stared into his friend’s tired eyes.

  ‘You should go back to bed – you’ll be in no fit state to fly like this. Can Harry not take over for a while?’ he asked.

  Ben shrugged, swallowing a mouthful of egg.

  ‘He’s up there now, but we’ll hit the Secondary in about an hour, so he’ll need me for that. It’s been getting worse lately – even the natives are struggling to pass. They’re mostly detouring through Mericus. It’s not like they want to stop in Anglya, anyway.’

  Cat frowned at that comment; sure, the relations between Anglya and Siberene weren’t as good as they used to be. At the start of the war, with Anglya fighting in both Erova and Kasem, Siberene had bid unsuccessfully for independence, but she had thought they were on relatively agreeable terms now. And wasn’t Mericus steadily becoming a war-torn wasteland as Anglyan soldiers pushed them out of Erova? Filing it away under ‘things to ask about once they’ve told me what on Tellus is going on’, she leaned forward.

  ‘Are we nearly at Siberene?’ she asked hopefully, eager to get off the ship and see somewhere new.

  ‘Almost. Depending on how fast we can get through the Secondary storm barrier, we should be there by noon,’ Fox informed her. His hair was messier than usual, and there was a small violet smudge on the bridge of his freckled nose that made her wonder if he’d been working before breakfast.

  ‘Brilliant! Is there anything I can do to help?’ she offered, but Matt shook his head.

  ‘No, I’ve got it covered. Fox, why don’t you babysit the sprog today?’ he suggested.

  Fox turned, his gaze meeting Cat’s. ‘I think I can handle him until lunch,’ he agreed.

  ‘What are you planning?’ she asked suspiciously.

  ‘Nothing you should worry about, shortie. Come on, let’s get going, if you’re finished?’ he prompted, staring pointedly at her empty plate. She nodded, thanking Alice as she followed Fox with some trepidation. Instead of taking her towards the manhole, Fox turned towards his bedroom. Hovering unsurely in the doorway as he rifled through the haphazard piles in the bottom of his wardrobe, she most definitely did not stare at his backside as he bent over, though the faint pink on her cheeks betrayed her. She longed for days past when silly things like hormones and attraction didn’t factor into her life, but hoped whatever she was feeling for Fox would dwindle in time. She would soon get used to his features – no matter how handsome she might find them – and think of him as nothing more than a friend.

  She snapped out of her reverie when Fox straightened up, turning and facing her with an odd look before holding out a pair of leather-cushioned brass goggles similar to the ones hanging around his own neck. She stared at the item blankly for a moment before the meaning clicked into place.

  ‘You’re taking me up on deck?’ she breathed. She’d been yearning to see what the world looked like from the sky. Fox’s grin widened, and he nodded, pushing the goggles into her hands.

  ‘I need to tighten some of the rigging, and you’re going to help me. Grab your coat, it’ll be chilly outside,’ he warned.

  She didn’t waste any time in rushing to her own room and grabbing the heavy wool and leather flight coat she’d been given by Alice, shrugging it on and doing up the silver buckles and buttons as she jogged back. Fox had on a long charcoal wool coat, buttoned tightly up to his chin. The grey made his eyes look even brighter than usual, and she tried to ignore the fluttering of her heart.

  ‘I’m sure I don’t need to warn you to be careful up there. As safe as the ship seems, we are, in fact, miles in the air. You won’t bounce if you fall out,’ Fox said, climbing the ladder.

  ‘I’m not simple,’ she retorted sharply, scrambling up after him. His patronising words had irked her – after all, she wasn’t a baby! Fox merely smiled, a look in his eyes that she couldn’t quite decipher. He stopped at the door to the control room, sticking his head in. Cat peered round, seeing Harry sitting in Ben’s usual place at the wheel, eyes fixed on the curved glass viewing screen.

  ‘Keep her steady – I’m taking Cat topside,’ Fox called.

  ‘Aye. Will do, lad, but keep an eye on him up there. And don’t stay up too long. I don’t want you up there when we hit the Secondary.’

  ‘Don’t worry, we won’t be up long. I just need to tighten some of the rigging on the mainsail – I noticed it was starting to slip the other day.’

  They hurried to the ladder under the trap, Fox hoisting himself up first and Cat securing her goggles before sc
urrying after him. It was odd, wearing flight goggles; they were tighter around her head than work goggles, and tinted the world a few shades darker. When she poked her head up through the trap, the wind buffeted her, and she was immediately glad of them. Fox took her hand, hoisting her up the rest of the way. She was embarrassed to have to grip his arm tightly as she tried to get her balance, her feet set apart as she stood her ground against the fierce wind. Fox waited patiently, not commenting on her death grip on his forearm, until she finally let go, only wobbling slightly.

  ‘You all right?’ he checked, and she nodded, looking up at him. His hair looked brown through her goggles, and his freckles stood out even more than usual.

  ‘Fine. This is incredible!’ she exclaimed breathlessly, staring up at the tall cream sails billowing from the main mast, the red and silver wind pennant at the top streaming straight out behind them. Clouds drifted lazily above them, the endless blue-grey sea churned far below them, and she could see for miles. Right on the horizon there was a growing dark area, the near-black clouds swirling ominously. Cat assumed it was the Secondary storm barrier, and could see why Harry didn’t want them on deck when they reached it. It looked terrifying. She could hardly imagine how the earliest, primitive skyships had made their way through it, nearly five hundred years ago when Anglyans first began exploring outside their own land. Surely they would have been blown to pieces!

  Fox stood behind her to keep her from getting buffeted too hard by the wind, and she leaned against the high wooden railing, standing on tiptoe to peer over the edge.

  ‘Careful, don’t lean too far,’ Fox warned, his voice rough in her ear as he craned his head down to make himself heard. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she arched away from him instinctively; it was that or lean towards him, and she couldn’t risk giving anything away.

  Fox raised an arm, pinning her even closer to the railing, and pointed to a dark shadow off to the left. ‘If you look over there, you’ll see Adena. There’s a little town, right in the centre, full of people who don’t ever leave the island. They grow their own food, have their own society rules, and marry their cousins to keep their numbers up. Some of them have up to eight or nine children,’ he told her. ‘Their island is slap bang in the eye of the Secondary so very few people ever visit, and no native has ever left there.’