Perilous Journey of the Much-Too-Spontaneous Girl (17 page)

“What? Please, let me know what I could possibly do other than what I have done.” She slammed her hands into the water and pushed away the other clothing floating around her.

“It was nothing.” The bot sounded a bit afraid.

“Tell me, Outil. I order you.”

“Very well. You could stop to think about the outcome of your choices before you act, m’lady. Especially when it concerns the safety of yourself and other people.”

Marguerite didn’t have time to lose her temper at the bot for her insolent comment. Just as she opened her mouth, a huge explosion rocked the ship, sending the water and women flying. As soon as they could get themselves back together, Marguerite cried, “Outil, get me out of here. I need clothes. I’m not going to die naked in a laundry tub!” She pulled herself out, grabbed a half dry sheet and wiped down, then pulled on her almost dry underwear. “I am
not
giving up my silks,” she declared as Outil handed her a man’s flight suit.

“This is the best I could find, m’lady.”

“It’s fine. Help me get it back on this blasted shoulder,” she winced with pain as she pulled the suit back up to her chest. “If you don’t mind, m’lady, I think I can fix this,” Outil said cautiously.

“What are you going to do?” Marguerite asked. “Just close your eyes and lean into me.” The bot reached for her shoulder.

Marguerite took a deep breath and steadied herself against the cool hands of her automaton. The bot held her arm carefully, bending it at the elbow. She rotated it up and then outward with a quick jerk. Marguerite cried out in pain at the same time as a satisfying
pop
gave instant relief.

“You are horrible, Outil! That hurt like crazy, but it feels measurably better now.” Marguerite grabbed the sheet she’d used to dry herself off with and tore one end into a long strip.

“Do you think you will need a sling?” Outil asked.

“Oh, no, this isn’t for my arm. This is for my ridiculous hair.” Marguerite wound the cotton around her head then through her hair and tied it all up on top of her crown like a wild turban sprouting tufts of wavy brown hair, like some sort of exotic plant. Then she slipped her feet back into her boots and cried, “Come on, let’s go.”

“Excuse me, m’lady, but where do you propose we go?” Outil asked.

Marguerite marched down the passage rubbing her shoulder, turban bouncing, explosions still roaring above. “Ballistics, of course. I need a gun. Preferably a big one.”

The ballistics rooms were a hive of activities. Men, women and bots were rushing from one duty to another. Officer Vuitton was in the middle of it all, shouting orders and peering through a great scope pulled down from the ceiling. He pulled back from the eyepiece just as Marguerite walked in.

“Well, if it isn’t Lady War-Maker herself.” He slammed the telescope back out of head bashing way and jerked open the gate to the armory closet.

“I’m here to help,” Marguerite said, head held high, maybe a bit too high as she took the guns and strapped them to her waist.

“I think you’ve helped quite enough. We all heard about your trick in the dingy this morning. I’ll have you know negotiations were moving along just fine before you flew into the middle of it like a loon on fire.” His words were harsh and critical, but he reached into the cabinet and rummaged around as he spoke. He picked up a medium sized flame musket, then thought twice, put it back and pulled out two traditional pistols in a holster and handed them to Marguerite.

“Take these and get on deck. We need sharp shooters up there, and you scored higher than any of this lot in marksmanship.” He pulled out a gear motion rifle and an ammunition belt and gave those to her as well. Then he handed Outil a giant arrow launcher and a quiver of exploding arrows.

“Those will be a good fit. Now get up there and don’t kill anyone in a uniform. And for the love of all that is greased and geared, do not blow up our own ships.” He shooed both of them away like flies and started barking orders to his crew again. Marguerite tried to say something in her defense, but another explosion sounded, and Outil grabbed her arm pulling gently.

“Now’s not the time, m’lady.”

Marguerite nodded, “Right.” And they jogged back down the passage to the stairs.

“Let me go first,” Outil slipped past Marguerite once they reached the hatch and pushed up on the heavy wooden boards. The door swung open on its hinges, landing with a thud, and the noises of war exploded around them, no longer filtered by the ship’s dense walls. Pirates and aermen alike fought on the deck of the Renegade. The two ships were still tethered together, but the Renegade’s engines roared against the other ship, trying to pull away, but only dragging it along like a giant floating anchor. The smaller ship the Renegade had skewered was no longer hanging on the bow, but also wasn’t floating anywhere in site. She could only assume the worst. The explosion was most likely the envelope being destroyed, but there was no time to check the waters below for debris.

Marguerite looked desperately for Jacques but didn’t see him in the throngs. Maybe he was still on the other ship, the main one with Captain Douleur. She tried to pull on her goggles, but they stung her red and burning cheeks. She slid them down round he neck for safe-keeping and wondered if the English-speaking pirates realized the meaning of their captain’s French name was pain. Either way, it certainly was fitting. Captain Douleur had caused her more pain already than she cared to think about and they hadn’t even met face to face.

She looked for the other ship. It was high above locked in battle with the smallest of the French fleet. Then she scanned for the fleet.

They were gone. Not even the smaller support vessels were anywhere in sight. She noticed a French aerman ducked behind a few water barrels, reloading his hip shooter. She ducked behind the barrels, and Outil covered her while she questioned him.

“Where did the fleet go? Where is Captain Laviolette?”

“Captain’s still up there,” he paused loading his gun to point to the ships above.

“What about the fleet, where did they go? When did they leave?” She frantically tried to think of a way to get to the battle above.

“Oh, they caught the trade aethers back, and we stayed on to finish the job. It’s what we were sent for anyway.”

The man looked up from his job to address her and his face changed from concentration on his weapon to recognition. “Hey, aren’t you the lady who started this whole mess? Jumped the Henrietta’s escape boat and bounced off the envelope?” It was not a pleasant statement at all. Rather, one laced with hatred.

Marguerite jumped up and started to jog to the next set of barrels calling over her shoulder, “No, not me! No idea what you’re talking about!” But the soldier followed her.

“Yes, it was you. Your face is all burned up from the pirate fire mix, and you’re the one with the fancy bot.” He thumbed a hand at Outil as she fired on a pirate running at them.

“What does it matter? I’m here to help now. And you should too. Stop babbling and get to work!” Marguerite peered over the barrel with her rifle ready, trying to assess the situation and how she could best help.

“It matters because we were on the brink of settling all of this with a peaceable agreement. Then you fly outta nowhere and dive bomb their ship like some kind of crazy suicider, and the whole deal is off.”

Marguerite winced at his accusations, but held firmly to her gun, took aim, and fired at a hairy pirate with a nasty blood-smeared sword. Her aim was true, and he fell to the deck. She took aim at another trying to attack a smaller boy cutting desperately at the rigging ropes.

The aerman kicked her in the backside. “What do you have to say for yourself? If you’re not court marshaled you should be lynched in the least. I’d throw you overboard myself if I could.” Marguerite and Outil both swung their weapons in his direction.

“That is quite enough,” Outil said calmly.

The aerman took a step back but kept talking, raising his voice, “Captain said as soon as
she
was safe, we should attack. We moved fifty barrels of fresh water and rum to their ships, plus a dozen bots, then they throw her over and all hell breaks loose. My best mate died in the first round. We been friends since we were kids, and it’s
her
fault.” He pointed at Marguerite and spat as he spoke. “So, no. I don’t think it’s enough!”

A pirate ran up behind the aerman. Marguerite moved her aim to the side and shot the man directly in the heart, then moved her barrel back to the aerman. There wasn’t a way to get to Jacques, so she would do the best she could here, and try not to think about the aerman’s accusations.

Outil spoke again, “I think you need to turn around and fight now, sir. Lady Vadnay will be dealt with by those in authority.” Marguerite didn’t look back. She threw herself into her job, shooting as best she could, her aim always accurate and her breathing steady. She was good at this. She could do this. She could help make up for her mistakes, make Jacques proud again.

Thinking about Jacques made her tear up again. She wiped her swollen eyes on the rough, too big sleeve, and refocused. The boys nearly had the ropes severed when the
Renegade
cut back its engines to save fuel, and the pirates were falling left and right on the deck. Those pirates who figured out what was going on were beginning to scramble back to their ship. Marguerite realized they would soon be free of them, but only for a time. They were too close for air cannons to work without damaging their own ship, so hand to hand combat was all that was left. Unless …

“Outil, can you light your arrows?” Marguerite called to her friend.

“Yes, m’lady, but I don’t suggest it this close to our own envelope.” The enormous black balloon was only a few feet above their heads. “An accidental fire could be disastrous for us.”

“But you have excellent long range capabilities on that weapon, right?” Marguerite asked. “Not particularly,” Outil replied. “I’m much more effective at close range. I was not designed for combat.”

“Hurry then, trade me weapons and light up an arrow.” Marguerite stood next to Outil and forced the swap.

“But miss, I’m not certain that you should do that. Protocol calls for no fire to be used on board unless in dire circumstances.”

“These circumstances are fairly dire, Outil. Light me up.” She held up the cross bow with the arrow fuse first. “The boys are almost done cutting; we haven’t much time.”

As a small deck boy chopped at the last rope, the two ships drifted farther apart, straining the connection. The
Renegade
’s engines roared to life again in preparation for separation. Outil let out as much of an exasperated sigh as an automaton was able and used her finger to light the fuse.

“Excellent, cover me!” Marguerite ran into the battle, eye fixed on her target, Outil at her heal, blocking all of those who tried to harm her mistress. As the boy came to the last few centimeters of rope, Marguerite took aim and fired directly at the ship that had held her captive less than an hour before. A gust of wind caught her shaft and blew it off course; it exploded in the air above the deck harmlessly. But the pirates had now realized her plan and began to take action.

One of them called out to the others, “She’s going to blow the envelope! Get her!”

Another cried, “Save yourselves!”

Pirates and aerman were everywhere at once, attacking her, jumping ship, throwing tethers, and calling out curses.

But the boy’s knife was true, and now that she could factor in the wind, so was Marguerite’s aim. As the rope between ships broke at last, Outil lit another round and Marguerite aimed and shot without hesitation. The small staff flew through the air in an arc against the wind. Perfect aim drove it right to the heart of the brown bag of gasses over the pirate ship’s deck. The
Renegade
roared to life, swinging out and away from the other ship, just as the arrow exploded and the giant brown balloon went up in flames faster than a heartbeat.

“Yes! I knew it was hydrogen!” Marguerite cheered as the flames sent an updraft of heat, causing the two ships above to fly apart. With its envelope gone in a matter of seconds, the pirate ship and everyone on it dropped out of the sky like a rock. The crew of the
Renegade
gave an uproarious cheer, and the pirates left on deck dropped their weapons and fell to their knees in surrender.

“That was extremely lucky, m’lady,” Outil said.

“It had to be done, Outil. There was no way around it. If they’d gotten away, they would have continued to pester us, and we would have lost more aermen.”

“Yes, m’lady,” Outil conceded. Marguerite was not pleased with her bot’s reaction, however. She expected more praise. A pat on the back, something. She was trying to make right all the wrong she’d caused that day. A roar filled the aether around them, louder than the
Renegade
’s engines. It came from above.

The whole deck raised their eyes just in time to see the remaining pirate ship roar to life, a spout of flame shooting from its stern just before it shot away at a mind blowing speed.