The Immortal Storm (Sky Chaser Book 1) (12 page)

28
The Phosphene

Kite had just finished his breakfast of oats and ration pack biscuits when Dr.Nightborn parked a dust cloaked wheelchair next to his bed.

“You're lucky we had this on-board,” Dr.Nightborn said, swatting at the cobwebs.

“No way,” he said.

“Then you can stay in bed again,” Dr.Nightborn said, reversing the wheelchair from the bed.

“All right, all right,” Kite said. Anything to get away from the sterile atmosphere of the Infirmary. At least this way he'd get to explore the airmachine.

Dr.Nightborn helped him into the wheelchair. Kite was embarrassed at being handled that way but Dr.Nightborn was kind and encouraging and Kite was grateful for all her help.

“You’ll be back on your feet and getting yourself killed again in no time,” she told him.

“The sooner the better,” Kite mumbled and sat cross-armed, waiting for someone to come and collect him.

That someone was Birdy.

“Dig the wheels,” Birdy said, leaning on the doorframe, hands thrust deep in dirty overall pockets. “How many knots does it do?”

Despite himself, Kite grinned. It wasn't much of a joke but it went some way to lighten his mood.

“Morning Doc,” Birdy said, giving a weak salute. “Lieutenant Fleer sent me to collect the
prisoner
.”

“Kite is not a prisoner, as well you know, Joseph Birdy,” Dr.Nightborn said, plumping the cushions behind Kite's back. “Bring him straight back, he’s in no state to go sight-seeing.”

“Yes, sir!” Birdy replied.

Soon Kite found that being in the wheelchair wasn't so bad. The thing jumped and rattled along the corridor and each knock made him wince but he was glad to be out of bed and finally getting a sense of the Murkers' airmachine.

“Remember me then?” Birdy said, nudging him along. “That business with your friend Mr.Clay?”

“Clay's not my friend,” Kite replied. “And I remember giving you a good kicking.”

“What?” Birdy snorted. “I slipped that's all.”

“Right,” said Kite.

The Murkers' airmachine was in a sorry state. Blistered paint peeled from walls stained with slime and growth from leaking faucets. Bunches of wires dangled from panels. Thick pipes ran the length of the low ceiling with naked bulbs hanging between them.

“You should see the cabins,” Birdy said, easing the wheelchair over a fat power cable. “Nothing but the best for us Murkers.”

There wasn't much evidence of a crew. Kite counted a dozen at most and they were an odd assortment. Some with uniforms, others wore shabby overalls and patched up flying gear. Hardly the Enemy of the Foundation he'd been expecting.

“She's a Weatheren fulgurtine right?” Kite said. “Salvaged or stolen?”

“You're the scavvy what do you think?” Birdy said, stopping at the lift doors.

Kite thought for a moment. “Salvaged,” he said.

Birdy grinned, but said nothing more. He stabbed the 'Up' button and kept stabbing until cables twanged and flywheels clattered inside the shaft.

As they waited Kite spied another Askian at the far end of the corridor. A girl, a few years younger than him, lit up by a pale blue light. She smiled and raised her hand and Kite waved back.

“Who you waving at?” Birdy said, leaning to see.

But the girl had already gone.

Just then the lift bell chimed.

“You were damn lucky to only get burns,” said Birdy, wheeling him into the wire-walled cage and pressing the button for the 'Nav Deck'. “Valkyrie said you should've been dead as a whale.”

“Her fault if I had been,” Kite mumbled.

Birdy crossed his arms. “You don't want to go holding grudges against Fleer. She's scary tough,” he said. “Just like her mother. She's not a bad looker though. Fleer I mean.”

“Hadn't noticed,” Kite said, picking at the wheelchair's leather.

An ear-beating alarm burst from the funnel-shaped speaker over the door. A monotone Weatheren voice repeated. “Crew to quarters! Crew to quarters!”

“Yikes!” said Birdy.

“What does 'crew to quarters' mean?” Kite asked.

“Means the Phosphene's under attack,” Birdy replied, as the lift doors opened. “
Again
.”

The Nav Deck was on full alert. Kite had expected a large pilothouse, but instead he found the
Phosphene
's helm a marvel of Weatheren technology.  In front of a great rain-streaked observation window screens hovered in the air, overlaid with maps and flickering chunks of technical data.

The Captain had his back to them. A three-quarter length frock coat with high collars hid his face. Two officers flanked him. Fleer Nightborn was one. The second was a Weatheren. Both had screens hovering at eye-level and keyboards at their fingertips.

“EREBUS! Fore and aft shockcannons, I want them charged!” Captain Shelvocke called out. “And show me the cloudmaps!”

Kite gnashed his teeth, recognising the voice.
Austerman.

The air solidified over the helm controls. A screen brightened with the face of serious-looking Weatheren with a geometric jaw. “Yes, Captain Shelvocke,” EREBUS replied in a cheerless electronic voice.

A screen appeared with bright swirls and gradients, annotated with altitudes and paths marked with little arrows. Two pulsing spheres, one blue the other red, appeared on the map. Kite realised the red sphere was gaining at speed.

“There's our uninvited guest,” Shelvocke said and turned to the second officer. “What have you got, Lieutenant?”

“Highburner signatures forty leagues north by north-west, closing fast to port, Captain,” the Weatheren officer replied.

Birdy leaned close to Kite. “That's Alex Welkin,” he whispered. “Frostbite's his call sign. He flies with Fleer. He used to be in the Cloudguard like the Captain.”

Frostbite.
The second Murker pilot; the one handy with a shockgun. Short and lean he had a lightning bolt scar running down the left side of his face, twisting the corner of his mouth into a lopsided sneer. Kite had imagined him an ugly brute. At least there'd been no surprises there.

“EREBUS! Take us down to 3,000 feet and initiate the cladding,” Shelvocke said.

“Yes, Captain Shelvocke,” EREBUS said, obediently.

The
Phosphene's
descent registered in the pit of Kite's belly. The Nav Deck's walls rattled. Clouds streaked by the observation windows. Slowly he began to understand how the Weatheren airmachine operated.

“Signature confirmed, Captain,” Welkin said. “It’s a Maelstrom Class ascender, the 
Vorticity
.”

Shelvocke’s face darkened with the unwelcome news. “We're too far south for the Northern Air Wing patrols,” he said. “They've been sent here to sink us.”

Kite studied the helm’s observation windows. Rain speared in all directions and lightning left ghost-trails on his vision. Then a metal mountain carved open the Undercloud's flesh. Waterfalls of rain sparkling off her six decks. A Weatheren predator.

29
Shelvocke

“Deploy the defences!”

Fleer stabbed three buttons in turn. “Rods deployed, Captain,” she said.

Screens showed a dozen black darts rocketing from the
Phosphene
's hull, trailing slithers of cable. With bright flashes their cones popped off and spindly canopies unfolded.

Kite drank in the electric atmosphere, keen to see how the Murkers had earned their reputation.

The Vorticity's shockguns flickered in response. The rods absorbed much of the mosfire, glowing furnace-hot, but two bolts broke the blockade.

“Proximity warning! Proximity warning!” EREBUS warned.

“All hands, brace yourselves!” Shelvocke bellowed.

The crew held on to railings and bulkheads, grimacing for impact. Kite gripped the wheelchair's arms as it shifted and beside him Birdy swore again.

The
Vorticity
's bolts struck. The Nav Deck rocked. The wheelchair went hurtling back, flicking Birdy against the bulkhead.

“Rods have been wiped out,” Fleer reported, examining the data aglow on her screen.

“Main deck has been hit, between the sixth and tenth bulkheads, Captain,” Welkin said. “We won't be able to withstand another bombardment like that.”

Off-key siren's wailed from deep within the fulgurtine. On the screen Kite watched the massive hulk of the
Vorticity
slowly turning, while the
Phosphene
seemed stuck in the air. A static target for the ascender's gunners. How had this hollowed out wreck survived sky battles against the Cloudguard?

Fleer turned. “Shall we scramble the stormwings?”

“No time, Lieutenant,” Shelvocke said. “Our best hope is evasion. EREBUS! The cladding? Report!”

“Patterners at seventy percent ready, Captain.”

“She's readying her AM dischargers,” Welkin said.

The ascender had come into view from the observation windows. Kite's excitement swiftly evaporated as great black wings unfurled from the
Vorticity
's hull. The undersides glimmered with half a dozen mosfire rings. The airmachine was monstrous.

“We'll never survive an airquake,” Welkin said.

Shelvocke stared at the screens, considering his move. “What's taking you so long, EREBUS?” he growled. “I need the cladding now!”

“There's a second vessel approaching,” Fleer said. “A Cloudguard fulgurtine, the Occluder.”

Kite swallowed. There's a name he'd never wanted to hear again.

The Corrector's fulgurtine cruised between the
Phosphene
and the
Vorticity.
He could easily imagine the Corrector on her own Nav Deck, snapping out orders to her Weatheren crew.

“Is the Vorticity standing down?” Shelvocke said.

Welkin confirmed with a nod. “Powering down her AMs,” he said. “And holding at seven leagues, sir.”

“Patterners charged, Captain Shelvocke,” EREBUS reported.

Shelvocke gestured at the screens “Proceed with the cladding, EREBUS! Storm pattern Nova.”

Kite picked out a partial view of the
Phosphene
's outer hull on one of Welkin's screens. The hull plates started to ripple, changing to a mottled disruptive colour to blend in with the storm. Except around the damaged decks where an incomplete jigsaw puzzle of black gaps had opened up.

Other systems appeared to be at work, disguising the fulgurtine's engine noise and radio signals. The Murkers were using Weatheren tech against them. Kite couldn't help but smile.

“Ornamentation complete, Captain Shelvocke.”

“Take us down to 2,000 feet! North-east by east, 33 degrees. All ahead-full!”

Kite’s wheelchair shifted with the acceleration. The
Phosphene
left the
Vorticity
and the
Occluder
dissolving in her wake. The Nav Deck fell still. The crew studied their screens and monitors, waiting for signs of pursuit. A few uneasy minutes passed with no sign of their enemy.

“Blimey, that was close,” Birdy said, blowing out his cheeks.

“Take over, Lieutenant,” Shelvocke said to Welkin. “Maintain our course and altitude for now.”

“Yes, Captain,” Welkin replied.

Shelvocke turned then. His brow sparkled with sweat. “Mr.Nayward! Odd isn't it that the Corrector should develop a sudden interest in our wellbeing,” he said, coming over. “Do you know what a Corrector does? They fix things that are wrong. At least wrong according to the Foundation. Perhaps it is you they are interested in?”

“I'm just a scavvy from the Old Coast,” Kite said, trying not to sound intimidated. “What would she want with me?”

“Ah, so you
have
met the delightful the Corrector,” Shelvocke said.

Kite swore softly. He wasn't about the play Shelvocke's games. “Where's the mechanikin?” he demanded. “
Austerman.
”

Fleer gave him a dangerous look. Clearly she didn't approve of the way he talked to her Captain.

“The item is quite safe,” Shelvocke said, giving nothing away. “However, I'm beginning to wonder if it might been damaged when you nearly killed us all on-board the Windspear. It hasn't uttered a word. Unless that is, the voice only responds to you.”

“What if she does?” Kite said, glad that Ember had kept her promise at least.

“I'll be frank, Mr.Nayward. You know as well as I do that the Clockwork Jinny is of greater value than we both realise,” Shelvocke said. “Perhaps we can help each other? Let me speak with the voice and in return I'll give you sanctuary on-board my vessel.”

“Sanctuary?” Kite said. “You barely escaped the Weatherens in this heap of junk.”

That earned him another foul look from Fleer. Some of the other crewmen gave him less charitable glances. A loyal bunch, Shelvocke's crew. Kite needed to be more careful.

Shelvocke thumped the bulkhead affectionately with his fist. “This old girl's served me well,” he said. “I salvaged her myself with a little help from Mr.Clinker. Even the Thunderclouds couldn't break her spirit. And right now, she the safest place in the world. Especially for you.”

Kite had to admit Shelvocke had a point. Hiding this old wreck from the Cloudguard couldn't have been an easy task, even for someone of Shelvocke's skill at trickery. And all those maps and charts -  Skyzarke had to be on there somewhere.

“I'll think on it,” Kite said.

If Shelvocke had expected his co-operation he didn't show it. “Of-course, take your time,” he said generously. “You must heal your injuries. Mr.Birdy will show you around. Get to meet the crew and so on. And when you’re feeling up to it we'll talk again.”