An Airship Named Desire (Take to the Skies Book 1) (2 page)

Apparently, surprise attacks don’t always help.

A shudder rolled down my spine as the clatter from the other side of the hall grew louder from the approaching throng of guards. We couldn’t fail this job. As the first mate of our ship, I had a reputation to uphold. Bullets pinged off the corner’s edge, nearly taking my hand with them. I yanked it back and pulled out my pistol.

Feeding another round into the chamber, I fired from the doorframe. Unlike Jensen, I didn’t need a flashy entrance since I was carrying our cargo. One man shouted and fell under my fire. Several short breaths calmed me as I squinted and aimed another shot at the top man peering around the frame. He emitted a garbled sound before slumping over.

Jensen marched to the door before I could blink, and during his parade, he clocked one man with the handle of his revolver while knocking the other one back with a full-throttle punch to the jaw. 

“Clear?” I pressed my shoulder against the wall. Jolts of adrenaline pulsed through my arms, which threatened to shake. Jensen nodded and signaled forward.

When racing past the men, I spotted movement. Before the dying man could fire a shot, I kicked the gun from his hands. One stray bullet and we’d be fish food.  After shoving a speedloader in the chamber of my gun, I tucked it back into the holster. We dashed headlong down yet another corridor. The horde of guards advanced behind us, and their footsteps echoed like rain drops hitting a metal hull. My heart hammered in my chest while my breaths arrived in short bursts.

“Two more levels left.” Jensen pointed at the stairwell ahead. The tinny flats all but crumpled under our frantic footsteps. This close to the deck, fresh air invaded my senses like the crisp scent of a fall morning, beckoning and caressing me with renewed hope. I pushed through the wind of exhaustion pummeling me, because failure wasn’t an option. 

“D’you think the communicator will pick up signal from here?” I asked. Our footsteps glanced off the aluminum floors. Yellow stripes followed the walls like guiding lines.

“You could try.” Jensen shrugged. I unfastened the copper buckle on my brown leather pack and rummaged for our communicator. My hand landed on the ribbed, black device with its copper antenna and metallic buttons. I struggled one-handedly to turn it on.

“Thank you ever so much for your assistance, Jensen.” My sarcasm flowed like the ale I’d drink upon returning home. “I’m glad one of us is capable of multi-tasking.” The mesh over the speaker had rusted, and the machine’s buttons had been re-glued multiple times, but we couldn’t afford to spring for new communicators. The copper antennae vibrated with the low hum from the speakers as I flipped the metal knob on the side to power the communicator on.

“Spade, do you read?” I lifted the speaker to my lips. Crackling sounded from the other end.

“I don’t think our connection’s stable,” Jensen said.

“Well, it has to be, or we’re sunk.”

He placed his hand up in front of me at the turn and peered past first. The loud beating noise was either my heartbeat or the guards’ footsteps, but I was long past being able to distinguish the two. I snuck a peek. A couple men in officer red coats stood attentive by the stairwell, and my blood surged at the sight of them. Maybe a little because I was sick of being on this ship, but maybe a lot because Captain used pictures of the British military as targets when we practiced on board. Old Germany ex-military like him held a grudge.

Some of the redcoats sat on the aluminum steps while the others lined against the undecorated white walls. The boring paint job bleached my eyes from running through hallway after hallway of it.

“What are we going to do?” I hissed.

“We have the upper hand.”

I stopped and raised my eyebrow. “Remind me again how the last surprise attack went?” I nudged past him to catch a glance at the officers. The whole lot wore cutlasses strapped to their backs and holstered military guns. As much as I loved my Matilda, mechanized battery pistols like those would outshoot her any day. 

“What’s in that pack of yours?” Jensen unhooked the strap and rummaged through my bag.

“Nothing we can use, of course.” I ran a hand through my damp hair to brush away the tickling strands and crawling droplets of sweat that fought for my annoyance. After blinking the drops away from my eyes, I took a deep breath. Whatever we were going to do, it had to be quick.

Jensen glanced up. “What about the vent up there? It should take us to the top level so we can bypass those guards.” Above, a loosely screwed screen covered the vent. Jensen reached up and unhinged the piece with the edge of his sword.

“I’ll need a boost.” I placed a hand on my hip, daring the man to make a jab at my height since I stood a foot under him.

“Alley-oop.” He laced his hands in front of me. The clanking from behind us grew louder as a constant reminder of what little time we had left. I stepped onto his makeshift lift and scrabbled up the side wall.

Grasping onto the vent’s edge, I popped our bundle through the opening. Once I pulled myself up and into the tight space, I turned onto my stomach. Jensen waited below for my assist, so I reached down, offering my hands.

At that point, the communicator received our signal. Unfortunately, vents echo. Loudly.

“Beatrice, come in. Do you read me, Beatrice, come in.” The sound crackled through the old machine and tripled in sound throughout the corridor. I clenched my jaw, biting down a curse. With a shout, the officer redcoats snapped to attention right as our squadron of chasing guards rounded the corner.

“Jensen, jump.” I stretched my hands out and tensed my fingertips. He gripped mine in his while I strained to pull him up. Several shots whizzed past his feet. Lacking in upper arm muscle, I notched the toes of my boots in the crevasse behind me, using the leverage. A shot glanced by, and a howl ripped from his throat.

The officers arrived on the scene. A spurt of vitality flooded through me, and I yanked Jensen up until he gripped the vent and lunged inside. The ropy scar on my left leg throbbed at the thought of his gunshot wound. We forged on through the tunnels above the ceilings even though their shots rattled through the shoddy aluminum.

“This wasn’t an ideal plan,” I said.

“You think so?” Jensen’s voice came from behind. “You’re not the one who got shot.”

“Buck up, boy-o, we’ve got more ground to cover.” I tried to keep my tone light. “We’ll take care of it as soon as we can.” I bit my lip to suppress the worry that crawled through my veins. Jensen never got shot. Not in the time I’d known him. Pushing the bundle in front of us, I squeezed through the tight tunnel until the vent stopped at an intersection and peered down both ends.

“Go right,” Jensen mumbled behind me. “It’ll get us to the top floor.”

I shifted into that vent and forced myself through. Good thing claustrophobia never bothered me.

“Beatrice, do you copy?” My communicator sounded again. I cursed myself for not turning the damned thing off. I could barely fit inside the area ahead let alone move around enough to pull it from my bag to respond. That scratchy noise of interference echoed through the vents. Up ahead, the dim square of light at the end beckoned, and the vent widened enough that I shifted my bag around in front of me.

“Hold on. I’ll make sure we have an escape route.” I yanked open the beaten leather bag and pulled out the blasted communicator, which cast a green glow against the dark tunnel. After pressing down on the metallic button, I spoke.

“This is Beatrice. Cargo acquired. We’ll be topside in minutes. Over.” I clicked off the knob and popped it back into my pack.

“You make some hefty promises.”

“None we aren’t going to keep.” I grinned. “Either we make it through in minutes, or we’re dead anyway.”

A numb tingling raced down my spine, and my heart pounded a notch faster. Looping the bundle back under my arm, I crept to the side of the vent. This grate suspended over the ceiling unlike the one we entered through. Jensen crawled over to the opposite side, and we peered through the slatted view. Below us, the halls appeared empty, lined by bleach white walls with evenly paneled mahogany floors. I strained to hear anything besides the engine’s whirr echoing through the vents.

“Are they there?” I asked.

Jensen shrugged. “We’ll find out.” He unscrewed the vent and bent over the side. “Remember, you promised minutes,” he said, before jumping.

I grabbed the cargo and hopped after him. Jensen covered my right side while I glanced down the left. Both corridors lay empty with those chestnut floors sloping upward to the main deck where our struggle to the top would reward us with no cover and a whole crew to tangle with. Those odds were something I could get used to. I forced away the fierce smile threatening to take over my face and instead pulled my pistol from its holster. The corridor met the deck on the main level, and the walls stopped up ahead to greet the sunshine spilling in from the entrance.  My breaths came out in staccato beats, and sweat slicked my palms. The clamor of footsteps rose behind us again.

We peeked over the sides to view the main deck. Many crew members had charged to the hull upon the alarm, so the deck cleared out more than I expected. Still, pockets of uniforms gathered from both ends of the ship. New wooden planks, cleaner than dry bones, lined the deck. I scanned the area again. Ahead of us lay a clear trail to the edge but no cover.

I stared above at the brazen blue sky. The wind roared with the same intensity as an engine, and the clouds puffed like outpouring steam. Several of the guards holstered guns, but some walked around with mop and bucket in hand. Non-threats made our job that much easier.

“They’ll be on us soon.” Jensen’s voice bristled at the edges.

“I don’t see her though.” I nodded off to the distance.

“Me neither.” He shook his head.

I pressed my body against the wall. Time ticked away faster than an auctioneer’s roll. Ideally, we’d have escaped unnoticed out of a side hatch or camouflaged in with the crew. But we bungled that and no longer had those options. I squeezed the handle of my pistol.

“All right.” I leaned over to Jensen. “See that clear zone? We’re going to sprint to the side.”

His eyebrows rose in disbelief. “Are you crazy? With no ship in sight?”

“I said minutes.” I pointed to the communicator. “Spade always makes his checkpoints.”

Jensen shook his head, but the hint of a grin crept onto his face. “All right, doll, on your orders.”

I clenched my teeth. Even though I came up with the plan, I didn’t think it stood a chance in hell. Luckily, common sense had never been my strong suit, and my feet moved faster than my brain.

“Go.” My calves strained with the jump as I cleared the remaining ledge, and once I hit the planks, we moved. Shouts broke out on deck the moment we emerged, but I ignored them. My limbs burned from all the running, crouching, and crawling while we dashed toward the ship’s side. Jensen brandished his sword and slung it around as we ran. I made a mental check to teach him how to use it right. Our movement alerted the clusters of men, and they scattered, all for the two of us. If I wasn’t running for my life, I’d have been flattered.

The edge loomed in sight, and I barreled straight into the side, hanging my head over the ledge. Dizzying depths below caused a sickness to spread through my stomach like the flu.

“What now?” Jensen and I stood against the edge, weapons out. The crew closed around us, and we backtracked into the corner. I clutched the package against my chest as Jensen and I bumped against each other. All over a stupid box. A gulp refused to voyage down my dry throat when the readied guns clicked all around the deck. 

Propellers whirred overhead.

I glanced up and my face met dangling rope. Spade came through for us. A red striped banner rippled through gusts of wind, and the sight of her polished hull filled my insides with sunshine. Our girl, Desire, loomed overhead in the form of one magnificent airship.

Chapter Two

Circus performers like the Aeronaut Troupe climbed up ropes one-handed, not the first mate of an airship. I steadied myself for the first five handholds, but the higher we scaled the more my hands slipped and legs shook. Especially when the guards below opened fire. 

I squeezed my thighs tight around the rope and wedged the lockbox under my arm since I’d move faster with both hands free. Jensen followed close beneath me. Several stray bullets clipped the rope, and it shook, giving me an ample view of the plummeting depths below. My throat tightened as I took in the remote hills and valleys below, but the line held, so I kept climbing towards our ship’s boarding entrance far out of reach. An overwhelming blue sky and swollen clouds swirled with the sway of the rope.

In the distance, the squad from the lower levels breached the surface, and their guns glinted under the broad daylight. I glanced up to see how quick the Desire moved when the first shots sailed in our direction. Stopping my climb, I gripped the rope so tightly my knuckles resembled their ship’s horrible eggshell-white walls.

The bullets dropped well out of reach, and I heaved a sigh of relief. Spade’s timing ticked two notches faster than theirs. As we drifted further out of range, I continued my slow ascent.

If heights bothered me, my term on the Desire would have ended a long time ago. Our ship glided past the merchant ship’s deck, and we dangled midair, surrounded by the stark blue. Treetops dotted the ground like miniature soldiers while the hills of the Canadian landscape spread out as clear as a map.

The rope twirled around, but Jensen and I continued our climb since the vessel’s gunfire no longer reached us. Sweat trailed down my biceps. The bundle under my arm hampered my movements so much that anyone watching my awkward climb might mistake me for a hunchback. But our rescuer waited for us up above, my girl, the Desire.

A vast white balloon surrounded by an aluminum frame kept her afloat, and the word Desire emblazoned it in bold black letters. The ship hung from the attached cables with propellers whirring loudly from behind.  Several short masts and a lookout tower extended up from the deck, but they hovered far beneath the balloon. She had a sleek body of darkened wood and could sail faster than any other ship in the skies. At least, that’s what the Captain said. Her real beauty shone on the inside. The aether tanks lined the engine room like pipe organs, and trinkets from our conquests decorated the hallways, unlike the lack of flair in that hulk of a monstrosity we exited.

Their ship’s clashing Union Jack flag stuck out like soured milk against the gaping sky. My fingers trembled from the effort of the climb, but I continued upward. The British government ran the merchant guild boat, so they could afford to spend extra on bells and whistles, but in my opinion, with those boring bleach walls they would’ve been better off hiring decorators.

A gust of wind twisted the rope and sent me reeling. My senses almost escaped me, but I groped for the lockbox tucked under my arm. With the amount of surrounding security and the price tag for its retrieval, this little bundle must have been special. I mean, we couldn’t outwit their alarm system, and between us, Jensen and I had stolen enough cargo to fill a warehouse.

The bundle inched forward from my arm’s vice-like grip. I froze. If we lost this, not only did we lose a fortune but we also blew all that money into the operation for no return. And I guess we’d lose some important artifact or whatever it was. While we had this cargo the guards wouldn’t blow us up either—at least, I assumed they wouldn’t amass all that security just to destroy the item. The muscles in my arm tightened like a wolf trap around the box. 

Jensen’s head collided with my feet. His shout of annoyance disappeared into the noisy wind kicked up by the propellers.

“Sorry,” I called down. “It slipped.” I didn’t hear any response, so I stayed still. My legs twined around the rope, but I didn’t have the tightrope skills necessary to hold on by my thighs alone. Clutching tight to the line, I tried to push the package over to my other side. The swaying didn’t help in the slightest.

A gust of wind blew through, and the package jumped from my arms.

I clamped on with my thighs and scrambled for the box. My hands groped puffs of air, and I stretched further into the empty sky around me. The rope bit deep into my thighs as I clapped my hands around our treasure, pulling the package to my chest. Blue and more blue whirled around me, and my legs trembled before I grabbed the cord with my other hand. Taking in a deep, shaky breath, I tucked it under my other, less slippery, arm.

“Bea, what are you doing up there?” Jensen called. 

“Thought I’d try my hand at performance. If a trained monkey can do it, so can I,” I yelled back. “Next time, why don’t we trade? You deserve a chance to keep our merchandise safe.”

His loud bark of a laugh carried past the roar of the wind. Jensen might laugh, but I didn’t kid. He’d get package duty next time.

The closer we climbed to the top, the more the rope twirled in circles. With nothing to weigh it down, the end rippled in the breeze. My thighs scraped against the strained fibers, and the pain made my stomach flop. If any of those snapped, we’d have a long trip down.

The climb ended when we reached the boarding deck, which opened like a black window of hope from the lower level. Before I even tried to heft myself up, I tossed the cargo on board, hoping the contents weren’t fragile as it slid across our smooth floor. I groped for the wooden planks with sweaty palms and used what little strength remained to pull myself onto the deck. Jensen followed behind me, and we slumped against the cool shaded ground of the lower level.

I could have melted onto the floor then and there as our musky smell mingled with the scent of cedar throughout the chamber. The extra oxygen from the vents flooded through me, filling my lungs with air and sparking my sluggish brain to life. I slouched against the wall since my limbs ached something fierce from holding our cargo in awkward positions.

Geoff, our navigator, yanked up the rest of the rope, and his lithe muscles flexed as he pulled the door shut against swelling winds. His dark brown eyes met my own, and the huge smile that surfaced on his face sent a burst of warmth rolling through my chest. Geoff was a welcome sight, the closest thing I had to a best friend.

I sat up, but my creaky limbs burned from exertion, and my legs splayed out in front of me like the loose joints of a clockwork doll. The rope had chafed my leggings, causing the shine of irritated skin from under the holes. Sweat soaked my calves beneath my knee-high boots, so old the leather edges had worn to a dull taupe. After all the grime I’d accumulated, my blonde hair had taken on a brassier sheen, and more than anything, I couldn’t wait for a shower. A patchwork coat of dirt covered my skin, and that weird blackened sludge lined the fraying edges of my breeches. I’d look cleaner if I took a dip in the lakes of toxic waste all over Jersey. 

“How’s your leg?” I gestured to Jensen’s thigh. He glanced at it as if realizing for the first time he sported a large open graze. From where I sat the wound didn’t appear too deep. It bled, but the blood hadn’t spread far. Geoff let out a low whistle.

“You got hurt on this one, big man?” He crouched beside us. Jensen grunted in response.

I scrambled over to where Jensen sat and opened my pack. “Let me get it. I’m sorry we couldn’t wrap up your big ol’ gash back there.”

“Sorry? If we stopped to take care of a measly bullet wound, we’d be dead.”

I rolled my eyes. The man pumped out more machismo than a diesel engine. His massive chest heaved in exhaustion and strained the suspenders holding up his stained tweed pants. That glancing shot had split the flesh on the sides and grazed deep enough to cause substantial bleeding. I pulled a bandage and antiseptic out of the bag before opening the vial of liquid. He didn’t even grimace when I splashed some onto his wound, just studied me with his soft hazel eyes. Drops of sweat slid down his cheeks and dripped off his square jaw. 

“There you go. You’ll have to take that leg dancing soon,” I said, yanking the bandage tight across his thigh to quell the blood flow.

He tested it by flexing his calf and managed a stiff stretch with the bandage on. “It’ll be fine in no time.”

“May as well have ox blood running through those veins,” I added. “You’re as stubborn as one.”

“All this over a box,” Jensen’s voice rumbled through the room like a truck over gravel as he sat back, flashing me a charming grin.

I snorted and threw him a wink. “You’ve done far more work than this over a box.”

“Yeah, except he probably had more of a reward.” Geoff scooped up the package from the floor. Besides the large brass keyhole, a geared mechanism off to the side kept it sealed. Not only did you need the right key, but the lock required a numbered combination of turns to open. What could the box contain that warranted such protection? 

“So were you waiting up for us Geoff?” I drawled. “Did you have your midnight candles burning at the navigation deck?” Between him and Spade, we had the best team of helmsmen in America, though when Geoff wasn’t at the helm he lived in the navigation chambers with his maps, ink, and compasses.

“Three days and we hadn’t heard a word since we dropped you off at that port in London. Of course we were concerned.” Long strands of dark brown hair shadowed his chestnut eyes and hid the worry. He smirked and leaned over to muss my hair but withdrew fast the moment he touched my sweat-soaked strands.

“Somewhere between stowing away and keeping quiet on board we couldn’t manage.” I gave an apologetic shrug. “But we made it and with the box in tow.” Geoff shifted his stance, but his stiff brown pants barely moved. He towered over me, a foot taller at that, but not in the hulking way Jensen did since Geoff only packed light muscle on those long lanky limbs. Hell, I could best him in a fight. Although, he was still no slouch—Captain Morris didn’t recruit slouches.

“While you lounged on your British cruise, we’ve been hard at work. Not all of us get a break from our duties.” His cheeky grin always made him handsome.

“Oh yeah, we sunbathed topside, ate marvelous feasts.”

“They put on a firepower show that’d bash the hell out of Texas’s Fourth of July Blow-Out,” Jensen jumped in.

“Right,” I said. “The British Merchant Guild really knows how to give you a memorable send off.” Geoff laughed and offered me a hand while Jensen hopped up on his own.

“If you girls are done preening, let’s bring this bundle to the Captain.” Jensen dusted his pants off. I inhaled, savoring the brined, cedar scent of home. After standing, I adjusted my corset which not only dug into my ribs but also sandwiched my sweat-soaked beige chemise to my chest.

“Actually boys, if you don’t mind, I’ll take you up on that offer of preening.” I pursed my lips. “I’d like to freshen up before we hop to the Captain’s room.”

“Don’t worry sweet thing.” Jensen smirked. “Captain Morris doesn’t care if you’re fresh or not. Most men are more concerned if you have the plumbing.” 

“I’m sorry, but I take pride in my work. Besides,” I said, gesturing down at wrinkles in my shirt and the stains on my breeches. “As much as I love writhing in my own filth, if I don’t mop off some of this sweat, we may drive the Captain from his chambers.” Jensen threw his hands in the air but didn’t argue.

Geoff shook his head, unable to keep the grin off his face. “Bea, you’re fine.”

“Fine as a laundered skunk. I won’t take long, and besides, I need to get rid of all this extra weight I’m carrying on me.” My hand remained on my hip, and I dared either of them to argue back.

“All right dear lady—let’s get you to that room.” Geoff slid next to me and offered his arm. I looped his through mine, and we stepped down the hallway together.

The ship creaked and groaned with the familiar symphony of noises while remnants of the windy day swept through the lower deck with wispy breezes. Not like I’d planned to spend half my day out with them, dangling in the sky like a human anemometer. My palm traveled along the solid metal walls made from sheets plastered over one another and held by welded nuts. Unlike that monotonous merchant ship, our girl Desire belonged to the crew.

I passed a large copper porthole that we’d fastened to the wall one of the first years I arrived on the airship. Further down, an enlarged cameo made a creepy, yet classy portrait. Isabella took a fancy to it during her first reconnaissance trip and mounted it soon after. Geoff had added his own flair with maps tacked onto the walls detailing mysterious air pockets and isolated islands.  

The press of his arm against mine provided a solid warmth I’d longed for after our days aboard S.S. British-Craphole. We’d been fast friends when I first joined the crew seven years back, and the longer I’d known him, the more irreplaceable he’d become. During my first month on board, I’d snuck off ship and drank myself belligerent at a cantina even though I landed extra deck work twice that week. Geoff made up a story when the Captain came stomping around looking for me, and I only found out later because Isabella let it slip. He was the sort of stand-up gentleman every gal wishes for, but not everyone deserves. I gave Geoff’s arm a quick squeeze when we stopped outside of my room. 

Upon entering my chambers and shutting the door behind, I unbuckled that damned corset and shunted it to the floor. Instead of boning like corsets of old, sheet metal made mine stylish, but uncomfortable armor. The goldenrod-and-black patterning across it kept the corset inconspicuous. Another invention I had our resident scientist, Edwin, to thank for—this monstrosity had prevented a couple bullets from piercing flesh in the past.