Goliath (17 page)

The lady boffin stood, straightening herself. “Lying, or simply mad. But at the moment I have no proof.
Do
keep your eyes open, Mr. Sharp.”

She turned and swept out the door, the loris on her shoulder staring back through slitted eyes.

“Mr. Sharp!” it said.

Deryn went back to the window, fretting over what the lady boffin had said. If Mr. Tesla were up to some deception, then he must have tricked Alek into helping him. And little wonder—Alek was angry and alone, feeling betrayed by everyone he’d trusted. Tesla had appeared at just the right moment to take advantage.

And it was all Deryn’s fault. . . .

But there was no point telling him that Tesla was lying. Alek would never take her word for it, especially as Dr. Barlow had admitted that there wasn’t any proof. Deryn stood there for a long minute, her fists clenched, trying to think of what to do.

It was almost a relief when the Klaxon began to sound, calling her to battle.

The ratlines were full, the ropes groaning with the weight of men and beasts. The whole crew seemed to be scrambling topside, eager to fight after a week of flying across the Russian wasteland. The sun was bright, the wind blowing across the Sea of Japan crisp and cool, nothing like the freezing gales of Siberia.

Deryn paused to scan the horizon. A dark silhouette lay ahead—two tall funnels, and turrets bristling with guns—a German warship for certain. To her relief there was no sign of a spindly Tesla cannon on its decks. The ship was making for the Chinese coast, which stretched across the horizon, the haze of a Clanker city rising from a nest of steep-sided hills.

She continued climbing, following the sound of the bosun’s voice.

“Reporting for duty, sir!” she called when she reached the spine.

“Where’s Newkirk?” Mr. Rigby asked.

“Last I saw, he was seeing to the lady boffin’s pet, sir.”

The bosun swore, then pointed down at the water. “There’s a Japanese submarine somewhere down there, in pursuit of that warship. It’s tending a school of kappa, so we can’t put any fléchette bats into the air. Let the men on the forward gun know, then report back here.”

Deryn saluted and turned, running for the bow, where
two crewmen were erecting an air gun. She jumped in to help when she arrived, tightening the screws and cleats, feeding a belt of darts into the weapon.

“There are kappa in the water, so the captain doesn’t want any spikes.” Deryn spun the shoulder stock into place. “Mind you don’t scare the bats when you fire!”

The men looked at each other dubiously. Then one said, “No bats, sir? But what if the Clankers have got aeroplanes?”

“Then you lads will have to shoot straight. And we’ve still got the strafing hawks.”

She returned the men’s salutes and headed aft, passing the word along. By the time she got back to Mr. Rigby, Newkirk had arrived with a pair of field glasses. Mr. Rigby was staring at the horizon through them.

“Pair of zeppelins over Tsingtao,” he said. “Never seen them this far from Germany.”

Deryn shielded her eyes. Twin squicks of blackness hovered above the city harbor, where the warship was coming to a halt. But the guns of Tsingtao would offer no protection from the kappa.

As she watched, the zeppelins seemed to lengthen against the horizon.

“Are they turning away, sir?” she asked. “Or toward us?”

“Away, I’d think. They’re tiny compared to
the
Leviathan
. But that warship won’t be happy to see them go. Without air cover the kappa will make short work of her.”

Deryn stared down at the sea, her heart beginning to race. Except for the doomed sailors of one unlucky Russian fleet, no Europeans had ever seen kappa in action. The
Manual of Aeronautics
contained no photographs of the beasties, only a few paintings based on rumors and stories.

“The attack signal will come soon,” Mr. Rigby said, handing Deryn the field glasses and scanning the city below with his naked eyes.

She raised the glasses and peered at the Clanker warship. The name
Kaiserin Elizabeth
was painted on its side, and it flew an Austrian flag.

“Not German after all,” she murmured, wondering if Alek had spotted that, and if he’d go back to dithering over which side he was on. Of course, he had a new Clanker friend to share his worries with, so he didn’t need Deryn’s shoulder to cry on.

“Not German?” Newkirk asked. “What do you mean?”

“It’s an Austrian ship,” Mr. Rigby said. “The Germans have got their own ships out and left their allies here to face the siege. Not very kind of them.”

Deryn squinted through the glasses. The sea around the
Kaiserin Elizabeth
was starting to look unsettled, like water coming to a boil. The kappa swam just beneath the surface, like dolphins riding the waves.

With a distant roar the smaller deck guns of the
Kaiserin
opened up, a torrent of bullets chopping the water into a white froth. Austrian sailors stood at the rails, peering down and fixing bayonets to their rifles.

Suddenly Deryn was very glad to be up in an airship, and not down there.

“Have you spotted the Japanese submarine?” Newkirk asked.

“We won’t,” Mr. Rigby said. “Her periscope must be up, but it’s too small. All we’ll see is . . .”

His voice faded as a sliver of a wave slid across the water, like a ripple in a cup of tea.

“That’s the submarine now,” Mr. Rigby said, nodding. “As the boffins suspected, they use an underwater explosion to send the kappa into a battle frenzy.”

As Deryn watched, the first beastie scrambled out of the water and up the side of the ship. It climbed with both hands and feet, four sets of webbed fingers splaying wide on the metal. Somehow the kappa ascended the smooth expanse as easily as it would a ladder, and was upon the men at the railing almost before they’d seen it.

Its long fingers grasped the ankle of a sailor, and a dozen shots rang out, his fellows on either side blasting away at the monster. The poor beastie twisted for a moment in the volley of lead, but its claws stayed locked on its victim. Finally the kappa fell dead into the sea, dragging the unlucky Austrian along.

Deryn held the field glasses tighter, ignoring Newkirk’s pleas for them. The kappa were swarming up by the dozens now, their wet green skin shining in the sunlight. A few larger ones shot from the water and arced through the air, descending on the Austrian sailors from clouds of spray.

“KAPPA SURFACING.”

From the blazing guns of the defenders, a veil of smoke arose, like some makeshift, flimsy barrier. More sailors were pulled into the sea, and a few kappa broke past them and bounded across the deck. Soon the broad windows of the bridge were shattered, and as the beasties leapt through them, Deryn saw the flash of drawn cutlasses within.

Her stomach twisted, and finally she handed the field glasses to Newkirk, wondering why she’d watched for so long. Battle was always like this, excitement and fascination turning to horror as the reality of bloodshed set in.

And this wasn’t a proper battle at all, just the extermination of an overmatched foe.

“Are they coming about?” Mr. Rigby cried, pointing across the water to the zeppelins.

Newkirk lifted the glasses a bit. “Aye, they’re turning back. And from the way their engine smoke is carrying, there’s a wind at their tails.”

“Of course,” Deryn said, and swore. “They were waiting for the kappa!”

Now that the water was swarming with Japanese beasties, the
Leviathan
couldn’t deploy its fléchette bats.
There was nothing to stop the smaller, faster zeppelins from closing in and using their rockets. . . .

“Blisters,” Deryn said.

This was turning into a real battle, after all.

“Quick, lads, to the strafing hawks!” shouted Mr. Rigby.

He picked up a coil of rope and flung it into Deryn’s arms, then set off for the aft end of the ship. The two middies followed, lugging the heavy line as fast as they could.

As the three headed for the airship’s tail, the spine sloped away beneath them. They hurtled down the decline, Mr. Rigby roaring at the other crewmen to jump aside.

Directly above the rookery he slid to a halt and pulled the rope from the middies’ arms. Kneeling to tie one end off, the bosun clutched his side in pain. He’d taken a bullet there two months before, just before the
Leviathan
’s crash landing in the Alps.

“Are you all right, sir?” Deryn asked.

“Aye, but I won’t be sliding down with you.” Mr. Rigby
thrust a handful of carabiners at her and Newkirk. “Half the hawks are fitted with aeroplane nets, which are barking useless against zeppelins. Get down there and help the rook men switch them into talons. And hurry!”

“Aye, sir,” Deryn said. “Me first!”

Snapping her safety harness to the rope with three carabiners, she turned and ran straight for the edge. The great whale was narrow here, halfway to the tail, and within seconds she was flying off into thin air.

Rope hissed through the carabiners like an angry viper, and Deryn let herself fall fast. The first moments of descent were glorious, her worries about Tesla, his iron football, and barking Prince Aleksandar of Hohenberg all left behind. But soon Deryn twisted in midair, tightening the grip of the carabiners, and came to a long and skidding halt. Momentum swung her inward toward the airship’s underbelly, where she reached out and grabbed the ratlines with one gloved hand.

As she climbed down toward the rookery, the cilia were in furious motion beneath her hands. The
Leviathan
was nervous about the zeppelins closing in. Deryn wondered how the great whale saw the Clanker airships. Did they look like a pair of fellow airbeasts? Or like inexplicable things, in a familiar shape but queerly devoid of life?

“Don’t worry, beastie,” she said. “We’ll take care of them.”