Free-Wrench, no. 1 (10 page)

“Brother!” Lil screamed, rushing heedlessly
across the deck to her stricken sibling.

“Another hook, ready to fire!” Coop yelled as
Lil helped him to the shelter of the stairs to the captain’s
quarters.

Nita turned to see a hook streak across the
length of the deck and drop across the other side, pulling taut and
chewing into the side of the boat. Even from her vantage point,
Nita knew the hook was well out of reach. She wouldn’t be able to
dislodge it from the hook end of the rope. As the attacker
continued on his strafing path, the rope swept across the deck,
sliding along the top of the railing and catching her across the
stomach before she could drop below it. She was dragged backward
across the deck until the rope struck some of the rigging that held
the gondola to the envelope, bringing it to a sudden stop and
sending her sliding along the deck until she struck the next strut
along.

The blow dazed her, but not enough to knock
the sense of purpose from her head. She rushed back to the rope and
fumbled for her knife. In the steamworks there wasn’t much call for
it, so she didn’t keep the short blade in any of the more
accessible places. As she fought for it, she noticed a regular jerk
and vibration to the rope, and looked aside to see that the wailer
ship was reeling itself in on a small winch. It gave Nita her
closest look yet at the craft, revealing two pilots seated one in
front of the other. The pilots were nothing like the crew of the
Wind Breaker
. Rather than dressing in what was very nearly a
uniform, the two men were dressed in layered and mismatched
clothes, heavy on buckles, leather, and improvised metal armor. The
only things they both wore were padded leather helmets with
built-in goggles, and maniacal bloodthirsty grins. The one in the
rear seemed only to have the flight controls to worry about, but
the foremost raider had a mounted grappler on a pivot, and a
chain-fed spike gun in an immobile, forward-facing mount. As the
grappler reeled in, the spike gun drew toward her.

She finally managed to pull her knife free
and slice the rope just as the gunner fired his first shot. The
brief burst of nails came close enough to tousle her braided hair
behind her head, but with the rope cut, the sudden loss of tension
caused the wailer to spin wild. While the pilot was still righting
his craft, Gunner slid to the railing and unloaded the monstrous
pistol, tearing through the vehicle’s balloon and sending both
riders plummeting.

“Mother ship sighted! Lil, Gunner, I want
both forward cannons loaded! I’m taking these scoundrels out of my
sky!” the captain ordered.

Lil and Gunner disappeared below decks,
leaving the captain and Nita as the only able-bodied people on
deck. A distant and familiar thump drew Nita’s eyes upward to where
the remaining attacker had fired its grappler. The hook tangled in
the rigging, high over Nita’s head and well out of reach, and
immediately the gunner began to reel his craft in.

Nita thought quickly. She’d never be able to
reach the hook, or even its line, and she didn’t have a weapon. Her
eyes darted about, first to the spinning prop of the attacker, then
to the rope running across the deck from the previous grappling
attempt. Acting more out of instinct than inspiration, she grabbed
the rope and gathered up as much as she could as she worked her way
across the deck. By the time she reached the opposite railing, the
wailer was near enough for her to hear the two pilots barking
orders to one another. She snatched up a dislodged chunk of wood
the size of her forearm and quickly knotted it to the end of the
rope, gave it a twirl, and heaved it toward the attackers that were
now nearly overhead. Her aim was true, and the rope crossed the
propeller, instantly tangling. The wailers’ ship was yanked
downward and twisted hard aside, dumping both pilots. One missed
the ship and fell to the sea. The other struck the railing and held
firm.

The ship was turning ponderously now, angling
itself toward a larger airship that was partially obscured by a
cloud in the distance. Nita had to throw herself to the deck to
avoid the wild, riderless wailer ship that was still winding its
prop more and more tightly and pulling it toward the deck as it
did. When she got to her feet, she found that the surviving rider
had wrestled his way onto the deck. Heavily armed, he held a saber
in one hand and a revolver in the other. Still running more on
instinct than common sense, Nita drew one of her cheater bars from
her belt again and launched herself at the attacker. The surprise
of the sudden attack managed to thump her attacker hard on the
shoulder, but he recovered quickly and fired his weapon. Nita saw
it coming and stepped aside, but a follow-up attack from his saber
clashed against her raised bar with enough force to knock her from
her already unsteady stance. He pointed his pistol, and, for a
moment, Nita believed her end had come. Then came a call from the
captain.

“Fire starboard cannons!”

Deafening thunder rang out, and the whole of
the ship jerked aside as if struck. The force of it sent Nita’s
attacker stumbling back toward the railing and nearly threw him
overboard, but he held firm. Out of the corner of her eye, Nita saw
a burst of greenish gas as the wailers’ main ship began to plummet.
Her main attention remained on her own threat as the man recovered
and raised his pistol once more. A second, quieter crack filled the
air and the wailer jerked backward, dropping his weapon and cupping
his hand to his chest. Another crack split the air, and the man,
stricken, finally went over the side. Nita swept her eyes across
the deck until she spotted Coop, smoke still drifting from the
barrel of his rifle.

“Direct hit! Gunner, Lil, back on deck,
now!”

Just like that, the battle was over, though
not without its costs. The turbines above were sputtering and out
of rhythm. The largely intact wailer craft lay splayed across most
of the central stretch of deck, its envelope now dangling from a
single line and leaking a stream of green vapor, its steam fans
grinding. Before the fiery rush of battle could fully subside, Nita
hurried to Coop to help him to his feet.

“That was quite a shot, Coop,” Nita said.
“Are you all right?”

“Been worse, ma’am,” he said, handing over
his rifle and investigating the gash on his arm. It was shallow but
long, and bleeding copiously. “Dang it. This here’s my favorite
shirt. My favorite arm too.”

Lil appeared from below decks and ran to her
brother’s side. “Big brother, move your fingers for me. Come on
now.”

“I’m fine, Lil. Nita and I held the deck just
fine.”

“You all right, Nita?” Lil asked, looking her
new crewmate up and down.

“I think so. A little bruised, but nothing
serious.”

“You handled yourself pretty good, I’d say. I
knew you wouldn’t end up going over the side. And you didn’t turn
green even once while you were up here.”

“Turn green? From what?” Nita asked. She
looked about, then locked her eyes on the horizon. “Oh… oh
dear…”

For the first time, the frenzy had died down
enough for her brain to process her surroundings beyond a knee-jerk
threat assessment. On the previous day the shifting of the deck and
the realization of their altitude had been enough to make her sick
amid a barely discernable haze. Now the sky was clear, and they
were over a thousand feet high. The part of her mind trained to
recognize beauty thrilled at the sight, a ring of endless sea in
all directions, the sky a brighter blue than she’d ever seen it,
and cottony clouds so near she felt she could touch them.
Unfortunately the part of her mind charged with self-preservation,
already stretched to the limit with the battle and shakily coming
back to normal, wanted no part of this view or any other that
wasn’t firmly rooted on solid ground. It seemed determined to voice
its displeasure in much the same way it had the day before.

“I think I’m going to—” she began, stumbling
toward the railing.

“Belay that, Ms. Graus. There’s still a job
to do,” Captain Mack barked.

Nita flinched, first wondering how he could
possibly believe he might be able to order her digestive system to
behave, then wondering why it had seemed to work.

“Cap’n, permission to take him down to
Butch,” Lil said.

“Do it,” the captain said.

“When did
this
happen?” Gunner called
from behind them, circling the remains of the wailer craft.

“I didn’t have any weapons, and their
grappler was out of reach. I had to improvise,” Nita said.

Gunner nodded in appreciation. “I always did
want to get a look at one of their fléchette guns!”

“Indulge your weapon lust later, Gunner. I
want a complete list of all damage, inside and out. Take Ms. Graus
with you. Teach her a thing or two. Lil, once you’ve seen to Coop’s
arm, I want you up here on lookout. It wouldn’t be the first time
we encountered two wailer ships at once. And I don’t like the way
the turbines sound. I’ll have to stay at the wheel. It is going to
be a fight keeping this ship on course. You have your orders.
Move.”

Nita and Gunner walked
slowly along the deck, cataloguing the damage. She did her best to
avoid looking over the edge, as she wasn’t sure how long her
scolded stomach would remain obedient, and she was in no hurry to
put it to the test again.

“Six more damaged planks. One will need to be
replaced,” he remarked. He turned to her. “You handled yourself
rather well.”

“Don’t talk to me,” she growled.

“Have I done something wrong?”

“You wanted to throw me over the side not two
hours ago.”

“Ah, that. I can see how that might strain
our working relationship a tad.”

“A tad, yes. These three barrels went over
the side. What were they?”

“Rain water. Might be a problem, but not an
immediate one. At any rate, I’m what you might call a
pragmatist.”

“No, you’re what I might call an ass.”

He looked up. “I don’t like the way that bit
of rigging is fastened. We’ll need to get Lil up there to take a
closer look. This is still your first time in the air, Nita,”

“You’ll call me Ms. Graus until I say
otherwise.”

“Very well,
Ms. Graus
. The sun hasn’t
even set on your first day, and we’ve already been attacked. I
don’t know what sort of people you’ve encountered in your short
life, but how many would you say could manage to function in
conditions such as these?”

“Not many,” she grudgingly admitted. “This
pipe here is pierced.”

“That’s one of the captain’s speaking tubes.
Nonessential. Crewing an airship is a lifetime commitment, which
isn’t to say it is a very long one. Survival is rare and comes only
at the cost of some very unpleasant decisions. We are alive because
we’ve known when to cut our losses and trim the finger to save the
hand.” He held up his three-fingered right hand. “Literally in my
case. And trust me when I say that losing a crewmate is no more
pleasant than losing a finger. I’d rather cull the herd early than
lose someone I’ve had time to know and work with.”

“If telling me that advising my murder was
motivated by your desire to avoid heartache in the long run is
supposed to improve my opinion of you, it didn’t work.”

“So be it. I’d think twice about how you
choose to direct your spite, though. Your life and livelihood still
rely upon you doing a good job.”

“I
always
take my job seriously,
Gunner, even when my life
isn’t
on the line. What’s that up
there?”

He looked where she was pointing. A very
faint but unmistakable stream of green vapor sprayed out of the
center of a patch on the envelope overhead.

“Bad news. Very bad news. Captain! One of the
nails caught a patch. Not on a seam, slow leak. So long as it
doesn’t open any more, we probably won’t have to lower our altitude
for a few days.”

“Patchable?” the captain called back.

“It’s on the underside of the envelope, but
tough to reach. It might be tricky unless we’re at port.”

“Anything else as bad or worse?”

“Not on this deck.”

“Fine, get down to the boiler and find out
what’s wrong. We’re barely limping. At this speed, we certainly
aren’t getting to Keystone before our supplies run out, and we’re
nowhere near any friendly ports.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Gunner led down to the boiler room, but
before they were halfway there it was clear they wouldn’t find any
good news when they reached it. The hallway was dense with
steam.

“This doesn’t bode well,” he said.

The door to the boiler room belched steam
around its edges, and a bizarre rattle sounded, like an angry
woodpecker was trapped on the other side. Gunner grasped the handle
and gave it a pull, but the only result was a weak groan of
wood.

“It’s stuck. Give me a hand here.”

She once again slid one of her cheater bars
from her belt and wedged it into the door. Between the two of them,
they managed to dislodge the door, releasing a blur of frenzied
gray fur and angry chattering. Nita screeched as something
scrambled up her leg, up her back, and onto her head.

“What in the world?! Get it off me!”

“Okay, Wink. Off there. Maybe this will teach
you not to linger next to the boiler,” he said. He plucked the
creature from her head and set him down, then snapped three times
and pointed. “On the deck, Inspector. Get to inspecting.”

Wink peered up at the two of them, taking the
time to give each of them their own dirty look, then hopped off
down the hallway, stopping at the edge to stare at them and tap
halfheartedly at the planks of the floor. Nita tried to shake off
the bizarreness of what had just happened and pulled down her
goggles. Gunner did likewise, and the pair made their way inside
the boiler room.