Skyjackers: Episode 1: A Proper Nuisance (Skyjackers: Season One) (3 page)

Chapter 3

Aboard the
Maelstrom
, Jonathan Thorpe was having
a small crisis. This particular crisis was named Admiral Finnegan Farrelly,
III.

Farrelly’s voice crackled over the bluewave in the airship’s
radio room. “You did
what
?”

Jonathan gulped. “I lost the Crown Jewels of Finustria, sir.”

“No, no, no. Before that.”

“Uh… I chased down the Caine family?”

“That’s the one. Captain Thorpe, you are out of line. I’m
going to warn you just this once: do
not
tangle with the Caine family.
I’ll warn you a second time. Do. Not. Do it. Am I understood?”

“Sir, if we hadn’t been there, civilians may have died by the
scores.”

“Then it’s a good thing you weren’t there.”

Jonathan was confused. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

“If word of this gets out, every pirate in the bloody world
is going to think we mean them stopped.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, sir, but… don’t we?”

“No of course not. There’s nothing more dangerous than a gang
of pirates, is there? No surer way to get oneself shanked. Do you want them all
thinking they can get away with murder?”

“Absolutely not, sir.”

“Then for heaven’s sake, leave them be. There’s nothing more
buoyant to a pirate’s morale than giving us a good punch in the berries. Keep
your berries in your trousers, Captain Thorpe. That’s the way things work round
here. Best get used to it. Cheerio.”

“But sir—”

The Admiral hung up.

“Tough break, Cap’n,” said Vin Harlow, the radioman.

“How’s that for a pisser?” Dean Manchester agreed. Jonathan’s
first mate was a solid man, tall and bald-headed—the latter by choice.
Manchester was older than Jonathan by ten years, and had wanted the
Maelstrom
’s
captaincy more than anything—before the young graduate had been offered it
instead. Of course, Manchester had thought better than to mention this fact to
Jonathan.

“It is, Manchester,” Jonathan sighed.

“If I may speak frankly, Cap’n,” Harlow said.

Jonathan waved a hand.

“You’re out of your depth. Admiral’s right. We can’t be
bandying about with the likes of pirates.”

“I think Mr. Jonathan’s got the right idea, personally,”
Manchester said. “He’ll just have to make sure he’s successful the next time.
The Admiral’s a reasonable man.”

“No he ain’t,” said Harlow.

While Jonathan was looking away, Manchester elbowed Harlow in
the ribs. “He most certainly is. Least he will be, once our Mr. Jonathan proves
he can put a stop to these pirates. Isn’t that right, Mr. Jonathan?”

“I’m flattered by your confidence in me, Manchester. But even
if I were up to recovering the crown jewels… we’ve lost the Caines’ trail,
haven’t we?”

“Maybe not, sir. Might be I could call a friend and ask a
favor.”

***

Back at the jungle hideaway, Benedict Caine was in his
study trying to plan his next caper. His son Junior, however, was proving a
distraction.

“Why are we pirates, Father?”

“Because we’re good at it, June Bug.”

“I’m not good at it.”

Benedict stammered, searching for a response. He’d thought
children were supposed to stop asking hard-to-answer questions as they got
older. “Nonsense. You will be. You’ve just got to… you know… grow into it.”

“When did
you
grow into it, Father?”

“I couldn’t have been much older than you are,” Caine lied.
“I ventured out into the world to find myself, and didn’t. So I became a pirate
instead. Don’t be discouraged, Bug. People can say what they like about us, but
I’ve always seen the true honor in our occupation.”

“Honor?”

Benedict laughed. “Why yes of course, son. We provide a
valuable service to this world; to those who spend their lives drowning in
wealth. Like a well-muscled lifeguard, we rescue them from it. We give them a
new perspective on things. We teach them that money isn’t everything.”

“But money
is
everything… isn’t it?”

“Yes, well. Not to those without it. Now really, June. I must
be getting back to—”

“What are you doing?”

“Plotting.”

“Oh. Can I help?”

“Absolutely, son. Turn up the lights and close the door on
your way out.”

Junior looked hurt for a moment, but he bounced back. “What I
mean to ask is… whether I could help with your plotting.”

“With the actual ins and outs of it? Well, I don’t think
that’s exactly in your wheelhouse, is it?”

“How am I to be a good pirate if I don’t learn to plot
against my enemies?”

Benedict gave a thick, closed-mouthed sigh. He had made a
habit of never sharing plans with his children until the last possible moment.
I
suppose Junior will have to learn at some point
, he thought. He spread his
papers across his desk. “Turn up the lights and grab a chair.”

Junior was smiling as he followed his father’s orders.

***

Jonathan was studying navigational charts in his cabin
when there was a knock at the door. “Yes. Come in.”

Harlow poked his head in. “Call for you on the bluewave,
Cap’n.”

Jonathan looked up. It was late. He checked his pocket watch,
gawked at the time, and asked, “Is it the Admiral again?”

“Not hardly, Cap’n. It’s your mother.”

“At this hour?”

“‘Fraid so.”

“I’ll be right there.” He pushed himself up and trudged to
the radio room, where Harlow handed him the receiver. “Hello?”

“Jonathan?”

“Yes, it’s me, Mother. What are you doing up so late?”

“Your father and I were just having tea with Mr. and Mrs.
Nagle. They asked how you were getting on at boarding school and I realized it
had been a while since we’d talked. Are you well, son?”

Jonathan’s father had been dead for five years. Their friends
the Nagles had moved out of the neighborhood three years prior. He could
scarcely tell his poor mother that he had graduated boarding school four years
ago and was now on the trail of a dangerous pirate, trying to recover a
priceless royal heirloom.

“Everything’s fine, Mother. I’m doing quite well here.”

“Are you keeping up with your studies? Making lots of
friends?”

“Indeed I am. Mother, listen… did you get the money I sent?”

“Money? Oh, dear, I’m sorry. I hope I haven’t forgotten the
semester’s tuition.”

“No, Mother, you haven’t. Please, listen to me. Is Winny
awake?”

“Your sister is at the babysitter’s. Your father and I wanted
the afternoon to ourselves. We’re having company, you see, and—”

“Yes, I understand. Mother, will you please just…” When she
started talking about the Nagles again, Jonathan set the receiver on the table
and put his head in his hands. His mother’s voice chirped through the speaker,
tiny and distant. He picked it up again. “Mother?”

She stopped mid-sentence. “Yes, dear?”

“I love you very much.”

“I love you too, Charles.”

His father’s name.

“I’ve got to go. We’ll talk again soon.” Jonathan handed the
receiver back to Harlow. “If she calls again tonight, tell her I’m at my
studies and can’t be disturbed. I’ll try calling back in a day or two. She may
be having a better day by then.”

Jonathan returned to his quarters feeling drained. He didn’t
sleep that night. He didn’t sleep much at all, anymore.

***

Gilbert Hill was a jeweler with a better reputation
than he deserved. Vivian landed her
Dawnhammer
in the rolling fields outside
the village of Dower and walked to Hill’s house, a dwelling he had designed and
built in his younger years. It was large and poorly constructed; Gilbert
himself often said the place had more angles than a protractor salesman.

It took three knocks to bring Mr. Hill to the door. When
Vivian came inside and handed him the sack holding the crown jewels, Gil’s eyes
went wide. He scratched his bald pate, lowered his magnifying lens, and set to
work on the appraisal.

“These are genuine, alright,” he said after a few minutes.
“Real beauties. A rare find. Let me write you up a quote.”

Vivian laughed at the first price he offered her and feigned
anger at the second. By her fourth counter-offer, she felt inclined to tell him
that at prices like these, she ought to go into the jewelry business herself.
She even considered threatening to take her prize elsewhere. But a crooked
jeweler who could handle this kind of merchandise wasn’t easy to find, so in
the end she settled for a sack of chips so heavy she had to double-bag it. It
was heavier than she wanted to bother with, so she ordered her first mate, Cork
Buffner, to carry it to the ship for her.

“I’m pleased we could come to an arrangement,” Vivian said,
shaking Hill’s hand. “What’ll you do with them?”

“Oh, this n’ that. Figured I’d pop off the pearls and melt
the rest down. Gold this pure should fetch a dandy price, and no one’ll be the
wiser.”

“Clever chap. Until next time, Mr. Hill.”

When Vivian returned to her ship, she found the crew flustered.

“Marshals, Captain. Coming in fast. Looks like the
Maelstrom
again.”

“What the devil is Thorpe doing here?” Vivian said. “Everyone
out of sight. You know the drill.”

When Jonathan and his marshals boarded the
Dawnhammer
several minutes later, the whole ship appeared to be deserted. He sent the bulk
of his men belowdecks to search the cargo hold and the crew cabin while he
moved into position to take the captain’s quarters. Manchester kicked in the
door, and they stormed inside.

All was quiet for a moment. Then they heard shouts and the
clash of steel beneath their feet. Jonathan sent every man he could spare to
help. It wasn’t until he and his remaining men had ventured deep into the room
that Vivian and her accomplices materialized from closets and cabinets and
desks and beds to engage the sky marshals in fierce battle.

Most of Jonathan’s men were inexperienced and outmatched. So
when Dean Manchester gave the order to fall back, they listened to him instead
of waiting for Jonathan’s command. Jonathan suddenly found himself alone, a
dozen flintlocks pointed in his direction and Vivian’s sword at his throat,
while his crew retreated across the deck outside. That would’ve been
humiliating enough on its own. When Jonathan saw the
Maelstrom
lift off
and float away without him, his dismay reached new heights.

“Follow them,” Vivian commanded. “Tie him up.”

Pirates confiscated Jonathan’s weapons and bound his wrists.
Meanwhile, the
Dawnhammer
left ground in hot pursuit of the
Maelstrom
.
They brought Jonathan outside and tied him to a chair on the deck, where he was
made to wait until Vivian joined him again.

She stood studying him for a moment. “I’ve missed you.”

Jonathan felt himself flush. “Y—you have?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, giving him a sweet smile. “No one
makes me feel half so competent as you do, Captain Thorpe.”

Jonathan frowned. “You’re very cruel.”

“I’m a loathsome, bloodthirsty pirate,” she said. “It’s part
of the job.” She leaned in until her lips were inches from his ear, so close he
could smell the thin, flowery scent of her perfume. “Besides… I rather enjoy
it.”

It took Jonathan a moment to get hold of himself. “Call me
old-fashioned,” he said, “but in the stories I grew up hearing, even the bitterest
enemies had the decency to treat one another with respect.”

“Perhaps you’ve mistaken me for a decent person. A pirate
never wastes an opportunity to gain the upper hand. Of course, it doesn’t hurt
that you are a terribly easy man to fool. And hardly more than a tolerable
swordsman.”

“That’s a heartless thing to say.”

“I disagree,” Vivian said. “In fact, I mean to let you go.
If
you promise to leave my family alone from now on.”

“That is a promise I cannot make, madam.”

Vivian raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“You must return the Archduchess’s crown jewels. They are
priceless heirlooms.”

“Priceless? They’re worth more by weight than I could get for
them on the street.”

“They may not be worth much to you, but to the Archduke’s
family, they are a symbol of history and tradition. Be reasonable. Surely your
own family has its traditions.”

Vivian wrinkled her mouth. “It would be none of your business
if we did. Now then. You’re my captive. Seeing as I’ve wrangled my very own sky
marshal, what am I to do with him? Hmm. Perhaps I ought to send the Regency a
message about what happens to those who cross the Caine family.”

“Please don’t,” Jonathan said with a nervous grin.

“It’s too late for begging, Captain Thorpe. I suppose, since
you have refused my request, that I shall simply have to throw you overboard
and scuttle your ship. Let your whole crew watch you fall before they fall
themselves. Yes. That seems the decent thing to do.” She produced a red bandana
and blindfolded him with it.

Jonathan spoke quickly. “It’s my fault the crown jewels were
stolen. Return them to me and I’ll give you whatever they’re worth. I’ll pay
for it out of my salary.”

“How very selfless of you. No, I don’t think your salary
would quite cover it.”

Jonathan was getting nervous now. “I warn you that if you do
not return what you’ve stolen, you’ll face the consequences. You can take me
down if you like, but there will be others. The Regency does not tolerate
brutality against its own.”

“Oh, how precious. You actually think someone’s going to
care. I must say, I admire your childlike faith in the Regency. What is it they
say about justice always winning in the end? I can’t recall. However, I have
seen many endings to the contrary. Yours will be no different.”

“This is entirely unfair, Vivian. I was only doing my duty.”

“Your duty,” she said, “is getting in the way of mine. Now,
be a good lad and don’t scream. It isn’t becoming.” Vivian dragged him across
the deck, chair legs scraping. She left about four feet of space between
Jonathan’s chair and the ship’s railing, then pretended to look over the side.
“My, my. It
is
a long way down, isn’t it?” She was only looking as far
down as her boots, of course, but her fictitious observation produced the
calculated effect.