Skyjackers: Episode 1: A Proper Nuisance (Skyjackers: Season One) (5 page)

Chapter 5

Jonathan stood in the Dower village square beside a
tall copper statue. He waited until his legs grew tired. When he saw no sign of
ship or crew, he sat with his back to the statue’s stone pedestal, placed the
bag holding the crown jewels between his legs, and watched the sun as it melted
into the rooftops. A woman carrying a basket of bread stopped on her way home
to offer him half a loaf. He ate it plain, down to the end, and tossed the
crust to the birds crowding in the dusky trees.

The stars were in full bloom by the time Jonathan heard heavy
boots crunching over gravel behind him. He turned to see the silhouettes of
Dean Manchester and Luke Bigsby, his quartermaster, approaching. Bigsby was a
thick-bearded man, his head perpetually wrapped in a flight cap and goggles.

“Captain?” said Manchester.

Jonathan grunted to his feet. “Yes, Manchester. It’s me.”

“Thank the heavens you aren’t dead, Captain.”

“Why would I be dead?”

“Do you know how many people have been captured by the Caines
and lived to tell of it?”

“How many?”

“I’ll find you a mirror.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“The men been talking, Cap’n,” Bigsby said. “Word round the
ship is you’re mad as a loose screw.”

Let them talk
, Jonathan thought. “Speaking of the
Maelstrom
…
what took you so long?”

“My apologies, Captain. Mr. Harlow couldn’t remember the name
of the village you’d called from. We tried to ring back, but you’d gone.”

“Dear gods, you mean I was almost stuck here indefinitely?
How ever did you find me?”

“Harlow remembered, sir.”

Jonathan shook his head in disbelief. “We should get back.
About time we made our triumphal return to Finustria.”

“What’s in the sack?”

Jonathan smiled. “Something that’s going to make the Admiral
very happy.”

***

Benedict surveyed the newly repainted
Cloudhopper
with
pride. “We ready to lift off, then?”

Junior stood at attention, fully dressed for adventure. “Sure
are, Dad.”

“Right then. Mr. Parsons, if you would be so kind as to tell
Goodfellow he did an excellent job on my ship’s sign the second time round.
Also, he’s fired, on account of the first time round.”

“Yes, Commodore.” Parsons bowed and took his leave.

Benedict heard the chugging of a steam engine above him and
turned skyward. “Say, what’s the
Hummingbird
doing aflight? Poleax
making off with another of my daughters? Disgusting creature.”

“No, Dad. Actually, Uncle Poleax felt so bad about earlier,
he offered to help with the horse-napping. Says he’ll transport the whole herd
for us.”

“I’ve told you, Poleax is not your—and it isn’t a herd, it’s
a—never mind. Very well, just keep an eye on him. See that he doesn’t bugger
off with the beasts while we’re looking the other way.”

“Yes, Dad.”

“You know what’s got my gut all a-tingle, June Bug?”

“I’d rather not, Dad.”

“Well it isn’t last night’s dinner, I’ll tell you that. It’s
Poleax. He’s pickier than a one-fingered man with a sinus infection. Not only
that… he runs that ship tighter than a porpoise’s blowhole. I don’t foresee him
enjoying a deck full of sweaty four-legged breeders any more than you would have.
What do you suppose he’s up to?”

“I don’t think he’s up to anything,” Junior said with a
shrug. “It was just very important to him that he make it up to you… that whole
business with Lily.”

“I’ll tell you,” Benedict said. “Why I allow a man like that
to remain here and corrupt my children is beyond my reckoning.”

“You wouldn’t find it a problem if one of us ever
did
decide we didn’t want to be a pirate. Would you, Dad?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Caine said. “All your sister Lily
needs is a bit of toughening up. She’ll come round. Believe you me, son. Now
let’s go hold a bunch of half-ton sperm factories for ransom, shall we?
Remember to watch your altitude. You know what happens to airships that fly too
close to the sun.”

Father and son boarded their respective craft and lifted off
into the night.

***

Back at the mansion, Vivian went to Lily’s room for a
sisterly heart-to-heart. Little did she know, she was about to find Lily’s
heart emphatically disinterested.

“What’s going on with you, Lil?” Vivian asked, taking a seat
on the bed.

Lily sniffled and covered up her flushed cheeks, then said
something into the blankets.

“What was that? I can’t hear you when you mumble like that.”

“I said I want Mr. Mittens.”

Vivian threw a disdainful glance at the fluffy gray cat
prowling the dresser. Vivian had had it out with Lily’s cats on more than one
occasion. Mr. Mittens, especially, adored Lily and hated every other human who
came near him. He had that distinctive feline gaze—an almost predatory
arrogance, which often gave Vivian the feeling that her size was the only thing
keeping him from hunting her like a mouse.

“That cat wants to eat me,” Vivian said.

“Mr. Mittens is a nice cat. Stop saying mean things about
him.”

Vivian approached and made a cautious grab for the animal.
Mr. Mittens bared his teeth in a violent hiss and slinked away from her,
hopping first to Lily’s vanity, then to her bedside table.

“There we are,” Lily said, lifting the covers to let the cat
crawl inside. “See? He’s a friendly little fellow. Aren’t you, Mr. Mittens?
Yes. That’s a good kitty.”

Rather than sit on the bed again and bring herself nearer the
creature, Vivian remained standing. “
Now
will you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s
wrong
,” Lily said. “I’ve simply caught a
touch of the malaria from being out of doors.”

“You were a hundred yards from home. And you don’t catch a
touch
of malaria. It isn’t like the common cold.”

“I wish you’d stop being so critical all the time.”

Vivian tossed up her hands. “How rude of me to criticize you
with facts.”

“Junior told me you sold the crown jewels for a pittance.
How’s that for criticism, Miss Perfect?”

“I got rather a lot for them, I thought. And I managed to
scare the daylights out of Captain Thorpe while I was at it.”

“That bloody marshal is all you ever talk about anymore.
You’ve really got a thing for him, haven’t you?”

“For the love of—he’s the one who’s got a thing for
us
.
I’m trying to protect this family from his meddling.”

“Oh, yes, it’s all about you, isn’t it? I almost forgot
I
was the one nearly savaged by elephants in the depths of macaque-infested
jungles today.”

Mr. Mittens poked his head out from Lily’s covers and hissed
at Vivian again.

Vivian had had enough. “I’ve got to go, Lil. Feel better,
will you?” She fled the room to the sound of her sister’s nasally voice.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice the sarcasm in that…”

***

Jonathan was in his cabin polishing the Archduchess’s
tiara when Harlow came in.

“Call for you on the bluewave,” Harlow said.

“Who is it now? Mother? The Admiral?”

“Neither, Cap’n. Fellow calls himself Atwell.”

“Alex?”

“Atwell, he says.”

“No… Alexander Atwell. Is that his name?”

“Don’t know, Cap’n.”

Jonathan hurried to the radio room and picked up the
receiver. “Alex? Is that you?”

Alexander Atwell’s voice slurred through the line. “Johnny
boy? How about that. Never imagined I’d reach you, old bean. You being this
big-shot pilot nowadays, I figured you’d gotten too fancy for the likes of us
normal folk.”

“Oh, don’t even start,” Jonathan said with a laugh. “Lovely
to hear from you, you old blighter. And it’s Captain, by the way.”

“What’s that you say? Chaplain? Say, when did you turn over
the religious leaf? The devil-dog I know wouldn’t be caught dead in a robe and
collars. At any rate, are you terribly unavailable at the moment?”

“As a matter of fact, I was just on my way to Finustria—”

“How wonderful. I should say that works out perfectly. You
wouldn’t mind popping in for a spell, would you? I’m in quite the spot of
trouble, you see.”

“Well that’s awful. I wish I could spare the time, but—”

“Won’t take more than a moment. You have my word as an
Atwell.”

Jonathan sighed. “Where are you?”

“At home, of course.”

“That’s a little out of my way. What’s the problem, exactly?”

“Sensitive matter. Rather not discuss it here. Urgent that
you come at once.”

Jonathan glanced at Harlow, who looked at the wall and
pretended not to be listening. “Okay, Alex. But just this once.”

“That’s the spirit. See you in a tick.” Atwell hung up.

***

From his airship high above, Benedict Caine surveyed
the sprawling compound of the Marquis of Bixbury; an expansive manor house,
manicured gardens, and a large stable bordered on one side by a series of
fenced-in fields. When he raised his spyglass toward the
Hummingbird
,
Poleax Longworth was sashaying across the deck in thick leather gloves,
chest-high rubber waders, and a clothespin, which was clamped over the bridge
of his nose. “That rapscallion is up to something,” Benedict muttered. “
Make
it up to me
, my foot.”

Junior’s
Stratustarian
touched down inside the
well-trodden pasture beside the stables. The structure was dark, but Caine knew
better than to expect a flawless execution on Junior’s part. His men rappelled
to the ground and began to creep toward the building, where a dozen prized
stallions lay at rest… or whatever horses did when they weren’t running around.

As Junior’s men crossed the pasture, Poleax’s ship came down
on the opposite side of the building, whose doors opened onto the unfenced
portion of the grounds.

Benedict slapped his forehead. “Blimey codwagger. Parsons,
get me Poleax on the line.”

It was too late. Junior’s crew, perhaps thinking Poleax knew
something they didn’t, flooded through the stable and opened its front doors. A
stampede of confused, testosterone-flooded stallions burst onto the open
plains. Poleax’s crew, still getting into position, scrambled after them.
Without bit or bridle, however, the horses proved tricky to catch.

“Use ropes from the ship, you dolts,” Benedict said to
himself. “Make lasses, or whatever you call them.”

They didn’t. When Parsons brought the radioman above,
trailing wire behind him, Caine held out his hand. He kept his eyes locked on
the chaos below until he felt the bell-shaped receiver on his palm, then lifted
it to his lips. “Poleax? What in heaven’s name are you and those blundering
buffoons doing down there?”

“We’re trying to catch them, Ben.”

“Well you’re making a bloody fiasco of it, aren’t you? Those
fences on the other side of the stables are there for a reason.”

“What’s that?”

“The fences. They’re there to keep the horses contained, you
numbskull. Not to mention all the tack and harness probably hanging in the
stables. You’ve plenty of rope aboard the
Hummingbird
, haven’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Then I suggest you start using it.”

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” The line went dead.

Across the yard at the manor house, a light went on in one of
the windows.

“Crumbs and crumpets,” Benedict cursed. “That’s the end of
that.” He nearly called the whole thing off right then, but decided to let
Poleax’s crew work a little longer.

Poleax organized several two-man teams, one man holding each
end of a long strand of rope. He then sent them toward the horses from
different directions, hoping to corral them. The horses seemed unable to see
the ropes, much less be contained by them. The animals ran through them like
racers at a finish line, dragging their bearers behind them.

More lights came on inside the Marquis’s manor. A side door
opened and half a dozen men spilled out into the night, pulling on their
trousers and hefting rifled muskets. That was when Benedict decided it was time
to go. He held out a hand. No one put anything into it.

He looked over to find the radioman disappearing belowdecks,
taking up armfuls of wire as he went. “Come back here, uh… Parsons, what’s that
man’s name?”

“Stedman, sir.”

“Stedman,” he shouted. “Get back here with that radio.”

Stedman returned and handed Benedict the receiver.

Benedict began shouting into it. “Poleax, you blithering
twit. Tie a slipknot in the rope and fling it round the horses’ necks. That’s
the way to… lasser… a horse. Poleax? Hello?”

“Haven’t called anyone yet, sir,” said Stedman. “It’s the
Hummingbird
you want?”

“Confound it. Yes of course it’s the
Hummingbird
I
want.”

Stedman called. They waited.

“What’s the hold up?”

“No one’s answering, Commodore.”

“Try again.”

Stedman tried again. There was no answer the second time
either.

In the pasture behind the stables, Junior’s men were
scrambling aboard the
Stratustarian
, even as the great behemoth left the
ground. Meanwhile, the Marquis’s men were approaching the stables, torches lit
and weapons raised. The
Hummingbird
’s crew were scattered across the
fields now. To Benedict’s surprise, a few of them were actually beginning to
catch the stallions. The clever ones had figured out how to use their ropes the
right way, and were leading captured animals up the wide gangplank to the ship.

A musket blazed in the night, yellow spark and white flame.
Shouts filled the air. Poleax’s men returned a volley, flintlocks by the
handful. One of the Marquis’s men fell, clutching his chest.

The crack of cannon fire nearly sent Benedict overboard, a
chest-pounding boom that made the muskets’ pops sound puny by comparison. A bay
window on the manor house caved in. The turret above it toppled over like
something made of blocks. The Marquis’s men dove to the grass, covering their
heads and turning back to gaze at the destruction. A celebratory shout went up
from the
Hummingbird
as it left the ground. The airship followed the
Stratustarian
into the night sky, leaving behind a significant portion of its crew and more
than half the horses.