Skybreaker (23 page)

I shook my head, remembering what had happened to us aboard the Flotsam. “No. First the downdraft. The captain panicked and dumped all his ballast to try to save the ship. I bet if we look at her ballast boards we’ll see there’s not a drop left in the tanks. She was light as a feather, and then she got caught in the storm’s updraft and was rocketed into Skyberia.”

“He could’ve valved hydrium,” Hal said.

“He might not have had time.”

“It’s a theory,” said Hal.

“A good one,” added Dorje. “I think you’re right, Matt.”

Dorje’s quiet agreement was like a benediction. I said nothing, only hoping that my face did not show the great hurrah of jubilation I gave inside. I glanced at Kate, but she wasn’t even looking at me. She seemed not at all interested that I’d solved the mystery of the
Hyperion
’s disappearance.

“I’m tired of their little scribblings,” Hal said. “Unless they tell us where the loot is, these journals are pointless.”

Nadira nodded in agreement, a flash of frustration in her dark eyes.

“They may yet yield some clues,” Dorje said.

Nadira exhaled impatiently. “Is there anything else in there?” she asked me, nodding at Grunel’s diary. “A map with a big X on it?”

I flipped backwards, and there, drawn across two pages, was one of the most beautiful sketches I’d ever seen. It was an entire city aloft in the sky, suspended beneath enormous cloud-shaped bags of hydrium. The buildings were connected with soaring articulated bridges and enclosed walkways. Lush garden terraces spilled flowering vines over the sides of the glass buildings. People stood on wide balconies and looked at the view, which was the ever-changing sky and whatever part of the earth they were floating over. There was an airship dock, where several ships were moored. Ornithopters fluttered about, ferrying people between the city’s many grand piers.

Everyone must have seen the amazement on my face, for they quickly came over to have a look.

“It’s beautiful!” said Kate, standing at my shoulder.

And suddenly she and I were pointing things out to each other in the picture. It wasn’t like we were really talking to each other, or having a conversation, but it was the closest I’d felt to her in days. Our mutual wonder bound us together, and I didn’t want it to end.

Mesmerized, I turned more pages. There were no words,
just sketch after sketch of this fabulous airborne city from every possible angle and distance. I squinted.

“Are those birds?” I asked.

“No, they’re people!” said Kate.

She was right. What I’d thought were birds flapping about the city’s spires were actually men and women, wearing artificial wings. It was as if these images were birthed from my own mind, for I could imagine no more perfect way to live. I was smitten.

“He had a fanciful imagination,” Nadira said. But far from sounding enthusiastic, she sounded angry. This was not the kind of thing she’d been hoping for.

“Was he planning to build all these things, do you think?” Kate asked.

“I don’t know.” And all at once I felt wistful, for I didn’t see how a city like this could ever be built. “It would be impossibly expensive. You’d have to be shipping fuel to it all the time.”

“Not to mention fresh water and food,” Hal said. “And what if something sprang a leak? Where would they get their hydrium? A storm front passes over it, and it’s so much twisted alumiron. It’s nothing but a pipe dream.”

But the impracticality of it made it no less beautiful—more so, if anything, for it was truly like something spun from the gossamer of the finest dreams.

“Put your pretty pictures away,” Hal said. “We need to lay down plans for tomorrow.”

Reluctantly I closed the diary.

“There’s a weather change coming, so we can’t go squandering our time. We’re going to split up. Cruse, you’re with Nadira. I’m with Kate. Dorje can take care of himself. We’ll cover more ground that way.”

I glanced over at Kate, wondering how she felt about my being paired with Nadira.

“That’s a very sound plan,” she said, nodding.

Hal and I regarded each other for a moment, and I thought I saw a ripple of merriment in his eye. Was this a marvellous game to him? If so, he was not playing fair.

“Will I have time to catalogue Grunel’s collection?” Kate asked.

“After we find the gold, you might get a bit more time. But I wouldn’t get your hopes up. The longer we stay up high, the weaker we get. We lose muscle mass, stamina, and the ability to think and move quickly. Our bodies are dying. After forty-eight hours you’ll be as close to death as you’re ever likely to be—until you die, of course.”

No one said anything for a moment.

“That was an encouraging little speech,” I remarked.

“No use mincing words,” said Hal. “Needs saying.”

“I have no worries about Mr. Cruse,” Dorje said with a smile. “I do not think he was suffering much today. He has a Himalayan heart. Like my people.”

I smiled, warmed by the compliment.

“Grunel squirrelled his money away somewhere odd,” Hal said. “But I know it’s there. So we’re going to divide the ship and work through her till she gives up her treasure.”

Nadira started to speak, then stopped herself.

“What is it?” I asked her.

“It’s just … I’m wondering if anyone else felt something in there. Something watching us.”

An icy rash swept my neck and shoulders.

“Ghosts?” said Miss Simpkins, looking up for the first time in ages. “Are you saying the ship is haunted?”

“Gypsy poppycock,” said Hal, but I caught him glance quickly at Dorje.

“In the Control Car,” Nadira said, “we all heard that voice over the speaking tube.”

“The wind,” said Hal.

“That’s what we said to make ourselves feel better. It sounded like someone saying ‘crow’s nest’ to me.”

“It did rather, I must admit,” agreed Kate.

“Listen to me,” Hal said angrily. “This is a salvage, and a difficult one. We do not have time for superstitious fantasies.”

“It would have been better,” Dorje said, “if we’d kept the lookout with his ship.”

Hal threw up his hands in exasperation. “What was I to do? Leave everyone slipping about on the ship’s back while we fussed with a corpse? What if one of you had fallen to your death? Would that be preferable?”

“No,” said Dorje, “but the ship is not tranquil. Nadira’s right. I sensed it too.”

I hadn’t forgotten the terrible sense of anticipation I’d felt aboard the
Hyperion
. I remembered the fearful gaze of Grunel’s hooded eye.

“If anyone’s frightened, they needn’t come,” said Hal contemptuously. “I don’t want anyone ninnying about the ship.”

“I’m coming,” I said.

“We all are,” Kate said.

“The ship has seen great calamity,” Dorje said, “and the souls of those men may still be confused and even angry at their sudden death. I don’t think we can expect them to cooperate with us.”

That night I slept poorly, the thin air starving me of breath. I kept jerking awake. I should have taken Dorje’s advice and used my oxygen mask. But I pictured Hal in his cabin, sleeping soundly without it.

I thought of Kate. I did not understand her, or what she felt for me. My heart beat hard. I wished it could telegraph me what I was meant to do. I wished it could tell me what manner of person I was.

In the hours before dawn, I drifted off once more, and dreamed I was walking through doorway after doorway. There seemed no end to them. With every new door I opened, fear coursed through me, for I sensed something was waiting for me on the other side.

I came to yet another door, and with the utmost dread, knew this to be the last. I turned the handle and pushed.

The door swung open only halfway before stopping with a thud. My mind and body sang out with panic. There was
something behind the door. I tried to wake myself, but the dream would not release me.

Something stepped out from behind the door. It was some kind of half-formed man, and whether he was wearing clothes or not, I could not tell, because his whole body was so unfinished. It was as though he’d been moulded from clay, but his creator had not smoothed him or given him proper shape. In his head, only the eyes and mouth were really apparent. His face was all pinches and gouges, and yet it wore an expression—not of malice, but of fear, as though he too had been caught by surprise. We stared, eyes mirroring each other’s terror, and I did not know what he was, if he was friend or fiend.

C
LAD ONCE MORE
in our snow leopard suits, Nadira and I made our way aft along the
Hyperion
’s keel catwalk. It was mid-morning and we had just boarded. Hal had told us to start at the stern and work forward, checking every storeroom, cabin, and locker methodically. The wind had picked up during the night, and the ship rocked and groaned in the sky’s mighty swell. The timbers and girders and bracing wires trembled. Our torch beams struck rainbow colours from the ice. Our breath steamed before us. After my nightmare, I feared I would see some frozen crew member, revivified by anger or confusion, lurching towards us out of the shadows.

I thought of Kate and Hal exploring the ship together. If she were frightened, she might clutch his arm, press close against him. He would thrust out his chest and reassure her with his manly talk. She would feel safe with him. He had her all to himself. He could propose at any moment. And what would she say? If she said yes, maybe it would be a mercy to me. We had about as much in common as a fish and kangaroo—that’s what my good friend Baz had told me last year. I was thinking he might be right after all.

I glanced over at Nadira, strands of her dark hair escaping the hood. I thought of our kiss, as I often did. She was very beautiful. In many ways I had more in common with
her than with Kate. We knew what it was to be underlings, to make our own way. We’d both lost our fathers. When I was with her, I did not feel I had to prove myself. I did not know what to make of our kiss in the crow’s nest. Perhaps she was just carried away by her joy at escaping a dreadful marriage, and it meant nothing to her. The thought disappointed me somehow. And yet my feelings were a puzzle. It was as if the
Hyperion
’s cold had frozen part of my heart and my own pulse was lost to me. I tried to think only of the work ahead of us.

When we reached the last door on the catwalk’s port side we stopped. I touched the handle and felt a tremor of premonition. Gritting my teeth, I pushed the door wide.

We entered, and at first I was hopeful, for the room was filled with wooden crates. After I raised the nearest lid, though, I realized the crate contained not gold, but food. Sacks of cereals and rice were stacked high against the walls. Crate after crate revealed tins of all kinds: peaches, calves’ brains, lettuce, whole rabbits, fur and all. There were provisions enough here to mount an expedition across Antarctica. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised since, according to the captain’s log, the
Hyperion
’s journey was meant to be a long one, and she would not be allowed to reprovision along the way.

We moved on. The next room we came to was a landing bay. A great track ran along the ceiling, and suspended from their docking trapezes were two of the oddest-looking flying machines I’d ever seen. The ornithopters I was familiar with
were feathered, with a pair of wings that flapped to give lift and thrust. But Grunel’s seemed more bat than bird. Their wings bore no feathers, but were made of some kind of supple leathery material, furled strangely and ribbed. Two propellers were mounted above the wings and cockpit. Certainly it was an ungainly thing, flimsy-looking too. And yet I saw it had room for not one but four passengers, so it obviously was quite powerful.

The ornithopters hung just a few feet above the floor, and I took a closer look at one. There was a metal handle jutting from its breastbone, like the starter crank for a motorcar. Along the machine’s leathery flank, I found a hatch, opened it, and shone my torchlight into its sparkly innards: gears and pulleys and sprockets and more little parts than could be found in all the factories of Switzerland. There was no combustion engine that I could see.

“It’s all clockwork,” I said to Nadira in amazement. “It doesn’t even need fuel.”

I’d never heard of such a thing: an engine that didn’t rely on Aruba fuel. In the floor of the hangar were the launching bay doors, firmly shut and filmed in ice. Had these strange craft ever taken to the skies, or were they just another of Grunel’s works in progress? I remembered his wonderful sketches of the aerial city, and the numerous ornithopters that had flecked the surrounding skies. And flying people too…

There, fixed to the far wall of the hangar, was a pair of huge artificial wings. I walked over for a better look. Each
wing was densely feathered, pleated like a fan so it could be retracted. They were connected to an elaborate frame that strapped on to one’s chest, arms, and legs—for there seemed to be a tail segment as well, which could be steered with one’s feet.

“Does it work, do you think?” I asked Nadira.

“Care to take a test flight?”

I laughed. The crew of the
Aurora
used to joke that I was lighter than air. And some small, defiant part of me, even now, believed that if I were ever to fall, the sky would hold me aloft. I stroked the feathered wings once more. How I would have loved to try them.

Nadira had already moved on. She was like Hal. Grunel’s inventions were just distractions to her. I joined her, and we checked the rest of the hangar. There was not much else to investigate, apart from some chests of spare parts and mechanics’ tools. We took a short break, and Nadira breathed some tanked oxygen. I was feeling the altitude, and even walking was labour, but I was not out of breath yet, and I wanted to save my oxygen for when it was really needed.

“Do you think Kate’s feeling all right?” Nadira asked, removing her mask.

“What do you mean?”

“She just seems a bit ill-tempered lately, especially with you.”

“Oh,” I said carelessly, “I think she blames me for wrecking the
Saga
.”

Maybe Hal was right about her: she had an iron will, and I had come between her and her heart’s desire. She wanted all Grunel’s specimens; she wanted Hal.

“That’s ridiculous,” Nadira said.

“She doesn’t see it that way. And neither does Hal.”

“He doesn’t give you the credit you deserve. You risked your life saving Kami Sherpa.”

I felt very grateful to Nadira then, for Kate had never said those words to me.

“We should move on,” Nadira said, and I could hear the impatience in her voice.

As we left the ornithopter hangar, the ship gave a quick shudder. For the past hour, I’d been aware of the wind picking up, could feel it shaking the floor through the torn hull. The
Saga
’s engines would have to work harder to steady us. We crossed the catwalk to a door on the ship’s starboard side.

I turned the handle and pushed. The door swung open halfway and then struck something hard. My nightmare awoke and beat against the walls of my chest. I swore and gave the door a violent kick. There was another sharp clunk, then the sound of something scraping along the floor as the door swung farther open.

I stepped back, waiting. Nadira was looking at me wonderingly, eyes wide. I felt as though someone had grabbed my heart and squeezed it dry like a sponge. Nothing happened. No noise came from the dark room. From my rucksack I pulled out the pry bar and gripped it in my right hand. I lunged inside, stabbing torch light behind the door.

I gasped. Then I started laughing, and could not stop. A chicken, frozen hard as an anvil, was toppled against the door. Nadira was behind me, and her torch picked out several other chickens, settled behind the mesh windows of their coop. They looked as if they might give a cluck and start laying at any moment.

The room appeared to be a small barn. Straw was scattered around the floor, speckled with frozen chicken droppings. Feed and water troughs were set out. Against the opposite wall were two stalls, one containing a goat, the other a milking cow, keeled over on its side.

“Eerie,” said Nadira.

“Very.”

But I began to feel that I was the freak aboard this ship, moving and breathing when all around me were the frozen dead. It was unusual nowadays for a cargo or passenger ship to bring animals aboard. Still, it was all of a piece with Grunel’s wish to be self-sufficient on his long journey. From the hen came eggs, from the goat and cow fresh milk, cheese, and meat if need be.

We made a thorough search of the room. Nadira even opened the henhouse and sifted through the straw and nests in case Grunel had hidden some goodies in there. Impressed by her thoroughness, I slit the bags of feed with a pitchfork, lest they contain diamonds instead of seed. There were no pleasant surprises to be had here.

“Are you getting worried at all?” she asked.

“That there’s nothing? I’m starting to wonder.”

“Should we try through here?” Nadira said, pointing to a door between the two stalls. It was not locked. I was startled by the light that spilled over us when she opened it.

We walked into an orchard.

The ship’s hull had been generously fitted with windows, and the frosty glass shone brilliantly. The trees glittered. Their leaves had turned and were furred with ice. It was like some kind of fairy garden that had been put to sleep for a hundred years and would only bloom and thrive again when the king returned. I did not know much about trees, but could see there were several different kinds here.

“Look,” said Nadira, “there’s a vegetable garden too.”

Beyond the orchard was a rectangular patch of soil. Nothing had had a chance to grow much, just a few withered stalks and vines. But each furrow was marked with stakes bearing small handwritten signs: potatoes, tomatoes, carrots, spinach, rhubarb, and corn.

I’d heard of cooks growing potted basil in their kitchen windows, but never had I known of airborne gardens and orchards.

“Must be another of his experiments,” I said, “to see how trees and plants grow aloft.” I looked at the large windows. “They had enough light, I suppose.”

“But how did they keep it all watered?” Nadira asked.

“Plenty of water tanks aboard. They could collect it too, when it rained.” Most ships had adjustable gutters. Fly beneath a single rain cloud and you could pick up water fast.

Suddenly I thought of Grunel’s sketches, the lush gardens, the greenhouses.

“He wanted to build his aerial city,” I said with certainty. “That’s why he came up here. To see if it could be done. Water from the clouds. Food from his farms. The only thing he wouldn’t have is fuel. Without fuel, it could never work.”

Nadira shrugged. She didn’t seem particularly interested. Kate would have understood my wistfulness. She knew me of old, knew the part of me that longed to be airborne at all times.

“Maybe he buried his treasure,” Nadira said.

I looked over the orchard in dismay. If Hal saw this he’d probably want us to dig it all up. Grunel was so strange a fellow, I supposed it was possible he’d entomb his treasure in the earth. Still, I did not have the heart to embark on it right now. “Why don’t we save that treat for later,” I said.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, gazing at the fairy orchard.

“Are you all right?” I asked, for I noticed she was shivering.

“I’m just a bit cold.”

“Take some oxygen.”

I waited while she fitted her mask and took some deep breaths. I felt guilty. I should have stopped more often for breaks. When you see a person jump rooftops and kick up their heels at bullets, you do not think anything can stop them. After a few minutes she took the mask off.

“How’s your headache?” I asked, remembering how she’d winced and rubbed at her temples before we’d boarded the
Hyperion
this morning.

“Not too bad.”

“You sure? Do you want to go back to the ship?”

She looked at me. Her green eyes.

“You’re very kind,” she said.

I gave an awkward laugh. “No.”

“Yes you are. You stood up for me when no one else would.”

“I’m surprised you can think well of me, after what happened between me and your father.”

“Anything you did was self-defence. When I first met you, somehow I knew there wasn’t a cruel bone in your body. You’re too decent a person. You’re like … the Statue of Liberty.”

“Well, I don’t usually wear a gown. Are you sure you’re not feeling light-headed?”

“She’s like a beacon, standing there gazing into the future. I like the way you think all things are possible.”

I marvelled at her words, for as much as they flattered me, they seemed untrue. Lately my thoughts had taken a gloomy turn.

“Ah, well,” I said, “I feel like I’m cheating.”

“How?”

“Looking for treasure, I’m no better than a pirate. I’m not earning it. If I played by the rules, I’d be back at school studying for my exams.”

“The rules,” said Nadira. “If I followed the rules, I’d be married right now.”

I grimaced. “The fellow with the bad teeth.”

She nodded.

“Some rules really should be broken,” I admitted.

“If we find gold here,” she said, “you won’t need to go back to the Academy. You won’t have to fly rich people around the rest of your life. You can do exactly what you want. Buy your
own ship. You won’t have to answer to anyone but yourself. You’ll blaze your own trail!”

She was conjuring a glorious picture of my future, one that I had started sketching for myself the past few days. But there was still something mirage-like about it. It still felt beyond my grasp—or was I just too timid or blinkered to seize it?

“You and I are rule breakers,” Nadira said. “The world’s hard. We might not be able to change it, but I think we’ll make a dent in it.”

“I hope you’re right,” I said.

She touched my face.

I wanted to be touched.

I felt like crying, for at that moment I knew it was Kate’s touch I wanted, and I could not have it. Despite how mismatched we were, despite my disloyal heart, it was her I wanted above anything, and I worried I’d lost her.

I cleared my throat and nearly fell over as the ship gave a violent shudder and did not stop. The sun shone just as brightly through the windows, but the invisible wind had the
Hyperion
in her claws and was not willing to let go.

“Come on,” I said.

With the ship’s floor heaving, we lurched towards the door and out onto the catwalk. The wind was gushing in through the tears in the ship’s fabric and playing devil’s fiddle in the rigging. I caught sight of Dorje struggling along the catwalk towards me.