Skyjackers: Episode 1: A Proper Nuisance (Skyjackers: Season One) (6 page)

“You can’t be serious,” Caine breathed, numb with disbelief.
“Parsons…”

“Yessir?”

“Did that just happen?”

“I believe it did, sir.”

“Get us out of here. And tomorrow morning, reassign Stedman
to the
Moonmist
.”

It was well-known among the fleet’s crew that being
reassigned to the
Moonmist
was Commodore Caine’s premiere method of
punishment. Worse than being dismissed outright, it meant a perpetual term of
service under the command of his daughter Misty.

Stedman went pale. “No… please, sir, I didn’t—”

“Get out of my sight, Stedman. I’m in no mood to be groveled
to. A true radioman might know a thing or two about placing calls that are
answered in a timely fashion.”

Chapter 6

Supper was getting cold, and so was Gertrude Caine.
“Your father isn’t at home. Where the devil has he gone?”

Vivian unfolded her napkin across her lap and sat up in her
chair, wishing she possessed the power to blend in with it like a chameleon.
Misty and Lily sat across the table, the latter still pink-faced and sniffling
as she stroked Mr. Freckles, the orange cat in her lap. Vivian said a silent
prayer, wishing for her mother to call on one of her sisters first.

“Vivian? Did you hear what I said?”

Vivian shut her eyes. “I heard you, Mother. It is rather
impossible to get everyone together for dinner anymore, isn’t it…”

“That goes without saying,” Gertrude said. “And it isn’t what
I asked.”

“If I knew where Father was, don’t you think I’d tell you?”

“No, as a matter of fact I do not. What I think you would do
is to try to finagle your way out of it by answering a question with a
question, as you have done just now, thereby leaving the burden of proof to be
determined by my opinion of you. Which, at the moment, is rather low.”

Vivian caught Misty’s smug grin and glowered back at her.
There was no fooling Mother. “Father and Junior and Poleax went to Bixbury to
steal some horses. But you didn’t hear it from me.”

“I most certainly did. This is the first I’ve heard of it at
all. Horses? What in heaven’s name does your father want with horses?”

“What does he ever want with anything, Mother?”

“A profit, I’ll wager,” said Misty.

“Very good,” Vivian said. “A regular savant, this one.”

“Sod off.”

“Girls. Just because your father is away doesn’t mean it’s
free reign to tear each other’s heads off.”

“I’ll tear Viv’s tits off and make her wear them for
earmuffs,” said Misty.

Mother rubbed her temples. “Alright. Forget it. Mr. Davies,
please have my daughters’ dinners delivered to their rooms. Mine as well, while
you’re at it. I’ve had enough of this family for the time being.”

The butler lifted his dark brow and nodded. “Yes, milady.”

“Goodnight, girls.”

Gertrude Caine shuffled off, leaving the three sisters alone
in the dining room to sit in silence. Vivian knew better than to be drawn in by
her mother’s feigned irritation, however. Mother was far too unflappable to let
something so small bother her so much. It was a testament to her cunning that a
woman who hardly batted an eye at cannon fire and robbery could make her
children believe a tiff at dinner was enough to faze her. Something was going
on, and Vivian was going to find out what it was.

“We’ve got to follow her,” Misty said.

“I can see I’m not alone in my suspicions,” said Lily.

“Nor am I,” Vivian admitted. “Right then. Let’s not all crowd
in at once. A thing like this requires finesse.”

***

Alexander Atwell’s breath smelled of expensive alcohol,
his collar of exotic perfume. Jonathan guessed he hadn’t paid a chip for either
of them. Nor had he financed the whitewashed castle he lived in, the expansive
property surrounding it, or the army of servants who kept it all intact.
Everything that had once belonged to Alexander’s late parents was now his
alone, only child that he was.

Atwell released Jonathan from a long embrace and held his
childhood friend at arm’s length by the shoulders. Despite the moisture in
Jonathan’s clothing from the drizzle coming down outside, Alexander hadn’t
spared him a second look before wrapping him in one of his customary greetings.
“I’ve missed you, old bean. So good of you to offer a helping hand.”

Jonathan refrained from pointing out that Alexander had made
his request for help almost impossible to refuse. “What seems to be the
trouble?”

“Right this way.” Alexander led Jonathan through the house’s
echoing grand foyer and past several luxurious rooms, every one of them updated
to give the castle a homier feel. They came to a side door, which opened onto a
hangar-like garage filled with vehicles of every kind and color.

Jonathan had been to Alex’s house many times. There seemed no
end to his family’s wealth—and since his parents’ death, no shortage of ways by
which he seemed intent on pacifying himself with it.

“It’s this old thing,” Atwell said, kicking the rear tire of
an antique motorcar, a roadster with a blue-jay paint job. “I’ve had a bit of trouble
with it, and I was wondering if you might take a look.”

“I’m no automobile mechanic, I’m afraid,” Jonathan said.

Alex laughed. “Oh, listen to you. Always the humorist. Come
round here.”

Alex circled to the front of the vehicle. One of the
headlights was shattered, the fender dented and scratched, the grill mangled.
On the floor lay a long, thin heap with a large picnic blanket thrown over top
of it.

A chill ran down Jonathan’s spine. “What is that?”

“It’s what I wanted you to take a look at,” Alex said, his
smile fading.

“Is that a… a
person
?”

“If you include the more provincial among us, then yes, I
suppose it is.”

“Gods, Alex. You killed someone?”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions, old bean. After all, I’m not
certain she’s entirely dead.”

Jonathan blinked at him, then rushed to the heap and threw
off the blanket. A woman lay beneath, eyes closed, breaths so shallow Jonathan
could hardly tell she was alive at all. Her clothes were damp and mud-caked.
She shivered when the blanket came off; whether a twitch or a chill, Jonathan
couldn’t tell.

“Why didn’t you take her to a hospital?” he screamed.
“There’s one just down the road, isn’t there?”

“I’m afraid I’m quite drunk,” Alex said.

“And what good did you think it would do to drive in this
condition to begin with?”

“That’s just it, you see. I was hoping you could use your
newfound influence to sort of… clean all this up.”

“What kind of power do you imagine I have?”

“You’re a man of the cloth. I’ll wager your testimony ought
to be worth its weight in gold chips. Which I am more than willing to pay, of
course. Not to mention I thought you might see fit to consecrate the body
before she joins the great beyond.”

Jonathan was hysterical. “This is not a body. It’s a woman.
When you first called, you thought I was a pilot. What did you suppose I could
do for you then?”

“Why, fly her to the hospital, of course.”

“Alex, come on. This is… even for you, this is… I’ve gotten
you out of some pretty big jams, but…”

“So you’ll do it, then?”

“Do what? I’m not a priest. I’m a sky marshal captain.”

“Dear gods, man. How many hobbies have you picked up in the
last five years?”

“It isn’t a hobby. It’s my job. It’s how people who don’t
have money pass the time.”

“Like a dare, you mean?”

Jonathan ignored him. “Madam. Madam, can you hear me?”

The woman opened her eyes, but didn’t speak.

“I’ll have to move you. Can you tell me where it hurts?”

She flicked her gaze onto him. When she moved her lips, what
came out was only a whisper. “Every… where.”

Alex was still trying to figure out what a job was. “No? More
like an allowance then, is it?”

“For cripes’ sake, Alex. Shut up and help me with her.”

“Are we burying her already?”

“Lift her into the back seat of the car. Not this one. The
red one over there.”

The woman groaned when they hoisted her up. They laid her
along the wide bench seat in the back of an apple-red sedan. Jonathan bundled
the blanket beneath her head to make her as comfortable as he could. “Get me
the keys.”

“What, to my father’s favorite auto?”

“Frankly, right now I wouldn’t care if this motorcar belonged
to the Regent himself. This poor woman needs help. Give me the keys and get
in.”

Alex went over to a box on the wall and opened the engraved
wooden door. Inside were row upon row of keys on small metal rings. He wiggled
his fingers until he came to the right one. “Ah. Here we are.” He returned and
handed the key to Jonathan.

“Right. Now get in.”

That was when Jonathan realized Alex wasn’t coming. He could
see it on Alex’s face; a half-scared, half-stubborn look of resistance.
Jonathan had neither the time nor the energy to scold Alex for his cowardice.
The look he shot back at his boyhood friend said everything it needed to.

The car started up like a charm. Jonathan peeled the tires
and sped out into the rain, leaving behind the friend whose lack of sense had
often baffled him, but whose loyalty had never faltered. Jonathan thought of
the crown jewels still aboard the
Maelstrom
, and of the dying woman in
the seat behind him, and of his crew, whose loyalty he hadn’t yet earned, and
who would almost certainly doubt his return if he stayed away for more than a
few hours.

***

Mandrake Hollow was not a happy place for Junior Caine,
Poleax Longworth, or the crews of their respective airships. Benedict had the
crews of both the
Hummingbird
and the
Stratustarian
lined up like
convicts at a prison welcoming. He strolled from end to end with his hands
folded behind his back. Every man and woman present did their bravest not to
flinch whenever Caine came near.

“That was the most magnificent cock-up I’ve ever witnessed in
my life,” Caine said.

“Thank you, sir,” said Poleax, nose still pinched shut with a
clothespin.

Caine yanked off the clothespin and tossed it away. “Perhaps
if you weren’t plugged up like a drainpipe, you might’ve listened better and
this whole disaster could’ve been avoided.”

No one spoke. Off to the side of the formation stood a pair
of tall brown stallions, bound by rope to a large boulder and stamping
restlessly.

“There were twelve of these blasted creatures in that stable,”
Caine continued. “How many did you get?”

Poleax stiffened. “We captured four, sir.”

Caine shot the horses a glance. “Yet I see only two.”

“Yes, well… two jumped overboard while we were aflight. These
other two spent the remainder of the trip bucking and screaming and laying
doodies all over my deck.”

“I beg your pardon… did you say
two
horses jumped
overboard?”

“That’s right. One of them just leapt for it. The other
followed a few minutes later. Can’t see very well in the dark, I imagine.”

“And after the
first
one leapt to its death, did it
not occur to you that perhaps you ought to have restrained the others?”

“With all due respect, Ben… I don’t know horses from whores.”

“No you don’t. I can vouch for that. And I dare say you’re
too ham-fisted to manage a consort with either.”

Poleax cleared his throat and steeled himself. “Whilst I do
apologize for my ill-preparedness, I must remind you that my inclusion in this
venture was not by choice.”

“Yes, well I shan’t make that mistake again. Wait a minute.
Not by choice? Who said it was anything else? Junior told me—” Caine twisted
his head around to look at his son, like a snake adjusting to a new target.
“Junior. So that’s the way we’re playing it…”

Junior shook his head. “No. Father, it isn’t.”

Caine smiled, a thing pleasant and insidious all at once.
“Say, there, son. How would you like to bring your crew on a hunting trip with
your old Dad?”

Chapter 7

Alexander Atwell’s apple-red sedan charged down the
rain-soaked road, sliding and fishtailing and squirting mud through the tires.
Jonathan leaned into it, gripping the wheel and driving the machine forward
with every ounce of concentration he could muster. Behind him, the woman
moaned. He came to a straight section of road and stomped on the gas.

At last the hospital was in sight, a three-story brick
structure with keystone windows. Jonathan was almost there when a slick tearing
sound shook the whole motorcar. The ground shot up in front of him like a
mountain giving birth. He slammed on the brakes, sending the vehicle into a
skid toward the sheer earthen wall in its path.

The car slowed enough that by the time it bumped the
still-rising wall of earth and came to a stop, the impact did little damage.
Clods of mud and dirt pattered down on the vehicle’s roof and hood. Jonathan
punched the gas. The wheels spun mud for a few seconds, then caught traction
and sent him hurtling into the sodden fields beside the road.

With a deep rumble, the moving chunk of land lifted off the
ground and floated up into the sky, leaving a crater with a footprint five
times the size of the
Maelstrom
. On the far side of the crater, Jonathan
was relieved to find the hospital still intact. He glanced back to make sure
the woman was still breathing, then breathed a sigh of his own as he maneuvered
the motorcar around the gaping hole in the landscape and came to a stop at the
hospital’s front entrance.

He exited the car screaming for help. Shortly, a couple of
men in white uniforms came outside to bring the woman in. They rushed her to
the examination room, where a doctor confirmed she’d sustained a concussion,
two broken ribs, a collapsed lung, and a pair of fractures in her hip and left
leg. Jonathan almost left her in the hospital’s care, but somehow he couldn’t
bring himself to leave. When the medical staff had stabilized the woman, one of
the doctors pulled Jonathan out into the hallway.

“Where did you find the girl?” the doctor asked, adjusting
his spectacles.

“She was… by the side of the road. Just lying there.” That
was Jonathan’s first lie.

“I see. It’s a good thing you got her here when you did.
She’s in awful shape.”

“Will she be okay?”

“She has a ways to go yet, but I think she’s going to be
fine. It’s clear she was hit by an automobile of some kind. There’s blue paint
embedded in some of the lacerations under her skin. What I don’t understand is
what kind of monster a person would have to be to have left her there in the
first place. And in broad daylight, no less. Strong suspicion of foul play
here. Looks like a classic hit-and-run, but I’m willing to bet there’s more to
it. In any case, I’ve filed a report with the local constabulary. They’ll
question her when she’s feeling up to it. Perhaps she can shed some light on
who it might’ve been. Whoever he is, they’ll find the bastard. You can rest
easy on that score.”

Jonathan was not resting easy. “Thank you for everything,” he
said, and returned to the room. He stayed by her bedside all night and into the
next day, pacing the floor each time they wheeled her away for a test, x-ray,
or surgical procedure.

By the following afternoon, the woman appeared to be doing a
little better. She opened her eyes with a clarity and an awareness Jonathan
hadn’t yet seen there. He was startled when she reached out to take his hand.
“My name is Lydia,” she said in a thin voice.

“Hello, Lydia. I’m Jonathan.”

“You’re a marshal,” she said with a soft smile. “And a
handsome one, at that.”

Jonathan felt himself blush. She
was
beautiful, now
that he saw the color in her cheeks and the golden hair splayed out on the
pillow behind her head. He wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Well… yes, I am. I
mean, no. I’m—what I mean to say is…”

Lydia gave a soft laugh, then grimaced in pain. “I must thank
you,” she said. “I never imagined my life would be saved by someone so brave.”

“It should hardly be said that I saved your life, madam. I
only brought you along for the help you needed. Do you remember what happened?”

She thought for a moment. “I was walking to market with
flowers to sell. I remember a car, speeding down the road. A blue one. It came
round the bend in front of me. Next I knew, I was off my feet. I landed in a…
ditch, or something. Then I woke up here. I can’t recall much more than that,
I’m afraid.”

Jonathan gulped. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, Lydia.”

“Thank goodness you were there to find me,” she said weakly,
giving his hand a squeeze.

Jonathan pulled back. “Yes, well… so am I. But I must be
going now.”

“Your family must be worried about you.”

“More my crew, really. Or rather, me worried about them.”

She gave him a somber smile. “It must be hard being a
marshal. Being away from your loved ones all the time.”

“It’s just my mum and my sister now. I reckon they get along
without me.”

“You’re not married?”

Jonathan suddenly felt very hot. His collar was choking him.
His voice cracked when he tried to speak. “I really ought to be getting back.
Best of luck with your recovery, madam.”

“Wait,” she said. “Will I ever see you again?”

“Eh, well… I can’t make any promises. The skies are very
busy, you know, this time of year…” He stumbled toward the door.

What Lydia said next stopped him in his tracks. “Please,
Jonathan. I should very much like to see you again. Promise you’ll come back
and visit me when I’m better.”

He put his back to the door, hand resting on the knob. After
a moment’s hesitation, he said, “I’ll try.”

“Promise?” she asked.

“I—I… yes.” He slipped out and closed the door behind him,
then strode down the hallway, ducking past the constables at the front desk.
Outside, he got into the apple-red sedan and drove off, encircling the
gargantuan pothole in the earth once more to get back to the road.
Idiot,
idiot, idiot
. He kept thinking it all the way back to Alexander Atwell’s
house.

The doorman let Jonathan inside and informed him that Alexander
was taking afternoon tea in the dining room. Jonathan marched in, hot as an
iron. He stopped to greet Mr. Letwidge, the Atwells’ longtime butler, then
asked for some privacy and waited for Letwidge to shut the door behind him.

“Alex, we’ve got to talk.”

“Well hello there, old bean. How did everything pan out?”

“She’s alive, Alex.”

“Jolly good. Won’t you have a seat?”

“Doesn’t that make you even the least bit nervous?”

“Why should I be nervous?”

“Because you almost killed the woman.”

Alex waved a dismissive hand. “Honest mistake, mate.”

“You were drunk.”

“What’s all the flap and fluster about, Jon? Accidents
happen. If the woman comes to and decides to press charges, I’ll fill her
flower basket with so many gold chips she’ll have to drag it home.”

“She’s come to, Alex. And what of her injuries? What about
the fact that she may never walk again, or that she may carry some of these
wounds with her for the rest of her life?”

“We all have scars, old bean. They make us who we are.”

“Don’t give me that rubbish,” Jonathan said. “You have a
responsibility to make this right. You have the means to do so, and you
shouldn’t wait until she steps forward with evidence against you. They’ve
already found the blue paint from your car. The very least you could do is go apologize
to her.”

Alex wrinkled his nose, disinclined toward the idea. Then
something occurred to him. “Oh, I meant to tell you… a chap from your ship
radioed the house a few hours ago. Man-taters, or something to that effect.”

“Manchester. What did he say?”

Alex brightened. “Good news, old bean. They’ve taken the
crown jewels to Finustria.”

“On the
Maelstrom
? And left me here?”

“Yes. A bit of high adventure, it would seem. Isn’t it
marvelous?”

“No, it isn’t marvelous at all. This marks the second time
this week my crew have flown off without me. Probably the twentieth time
they’ve defied my orders since I took the command.”

Alex grunted. “Choir boys and parishioners. No respect, those
chaps.”

“For the last time, I’m
not
a priest.”

“Why not take a load off while you wait for them to come
round, old bean? You’ve always got a bed and a roof over your head at the
Atwell household. Besides, I’m sure they’ll be back for you in a tick.”

Jonathan felt weary. “I suppose I’ve no other choice.”

***

The first thing Vivian heard as she crept down the hall
toward the back parlor was the sound of her mother’s laughter. The door was
cracked, and when Vivian came close she could see a sliver of the room’s
interior. Mother had not, it seemed, retired to her bedroom. Instead she was
leaning over the side of an armchair, speaking softly into the bluewave
receiver cupped to her ear.

“No. Ben doesn’t suspect a thing. He’s much too preoccupied
these days, cavorting about on these escapades of his.” A pause. “Yes. Keeps
the family in business, you know. Well I do appreciate you doing this for me.
Oh, it’s going to be delightful. Sweet revenge, ey? He’ll be absolutely
horrified. Yes. Right, well I hope you do. Gods know he deserves it. Yes, oh I
will. You can count on that. Thank you, Archie. Goodbye.”

Archie
, Vivian thought. That name could only refer to
one person: Archibald ‘Greenbeard’ McCracken, her father’s most bitter rival in
the pirating business. Gertrude rose and strode toward the parlor door, so fast
Vivian had to throw herself against the wall to avoid being hit when she came
out. She froze and watched her mother march down the hallway and out of sight.
Then she doubled back and ascended the servants’ staircase.

When the three sisters convened in Misty’s room a few minutes
later, each of them divulged her own theory about what it could all mean.

“Mummy is going to have Daddy killed,” Misty predicted. “She
said so.”

Vivian rolled her eyes. “She did not.”

“Did so. And you know who it was she was talking to…
Greenbeard. Greenbeard and Gertrude. Hmm. Their names start with the same
letter. They must be in league for some nefarious purpose against Father. Oh, I
can’t wait to see how it all plays out.” Misty clapped her hands.

“You are truly sick. Do you know that?”

“Mother mentioned revenge,” said Lily. “And she seemed
happy
about it. Perhaps she means to play a practical joke on him.”

“I think that’s the more likely scenario,” said Vivian.
“Dad’s birthday
is
coming up. Maybe that’s what she’s on about.”

“Mummy is going to run away with Greenbeard on Daddy’s
birthday,” Misty said, singsong.

“Oh, will you come off it?”

Misty glared. “Oh, will you get out of my room? I never
invited you.”

“Yes you did.”

“Well I’m uninviting you now. Get out.”

“And if I don’t?” Vivian said.

“I’ll scream. I’ll scream so loud it’ll make your eardrums
bubble up like blisters.”

“Try me.”

Misty put her hands on her hips. “If you don’t leave, I’ll
tell my crew to attack your crew, and kill them all, and burn the
Dawnhammer
to the ground. And then I’ll carve your name into my own back so Daddy knows
you did it.”

“First of all, how would you carve anything into your own
back? And second, how would that prove—”

“Get out,” Misty screamed. “Get out no-o-o-o-w.” Halfway
through the final word, Misty’s voice shot up to a piercing register and stayed
there.

“Alright, alright. I’m going,” Vivian said, pressing her
palms to her ears. “Give it a blooming rest.”

No sooner had she entered the hallway than Vivian heard the
next-most unwelcome sound in the world.

“Vivian?” Mother called. “What’s all the hubbub?”

Oh, it never ends
, Vivian thought.
I’m stuck here
forever, and it never ends
.