Free-Wrench, no. 1 (12 page)

If she had a day, she knew she could remove
and reuse enough pieces to get most of its functionality back. If
she had a few weeks, she could probably throw away half the
mechanism and end up with a simpler, sturdier boiler that they
could easily maintain themselves.

“It wouldn’t be difficult at all,” she
concluded after explaining as much.

“And in exchange for that we lose our trade
privileges with the fug folk in perpetuity. I don’t think you
realize how much of their work and goods we rely upon,” Gunner
countered.

“They are taking advantage of you. Of
everyone
! They’ve been doing your work for you so long that
you’ve forgotten how to do it yourselves.”

“The advantage is theirs to take. And I’d
keep my voice down if I were you. They are sure to hear you.”

“How? From where? Are they lurking in the
shadows, Gunner?” She picked up a manifold that had been entirely
dislodged by the boiler damage. “Is this bit of pointless
complexity a listening device? They’ve got you paranoid.”

“Justifiably and stubbornly, so may we please
move on?”

She sighed in frustration, throwing down the
manifold and startling Wink, who had been staring at them with an
indignant look since they chose to invade his domain. “You say you
can replace valves, and we have one replacement. Where is it and
which ones can it replace?”

He fished it out of the box and held it out
to her, pointing with the other hand. “They’ll let us replace any
of these five valves.”

“Well, those two are still working, and these
two are on sections of ruptured pipe. This one was venting steam
earlier, but if I followed it correctly, it only leads to the
winches.”

Gunner nodded. “Come to think of it, those
are always breaking down. Best to replace it.”

“What good would that do?”

“It would fix the winches.”

“That wouldn’t do me any good. I need the
turbines working.”

“You are a member of this crew now. It
doesn’t matter what is good for you, only what is good for the
ship. You claim to be able to fix the whole boiler, let’s see you
do some work.”

She nodded, more interested in getting back
to her own task but not really able to argue with him. The
procedure was the work of moments, something she’d done a thousand
times back at the steamworks. When she was through, Gunner
inspected it.

“Passable work,” he said. “That’s about all
you can do in here then.”

“According to the rules, anyway. These thick
pipes here lead to the turbines, I think. They run up to the next
floor. I’m going to try to trace them out again. Maybe there is
something I missed.”

“Suit yourself, but leave your tools so I can
be sure you aren’t doing anything you shouldn’t. Perhaps you enjoy
spending your time staring at pipes, but I’ve got a few hours of my
own to look at that fléchette gun from the wailer.”

“Oh?” she remarked, steadily dropping her
tool sash, tool belt, and monkey-toe wrench to the floor. “I’m
surprised the all-seeing fug folk will allow you to tinker with
that?”

“It isn’t part of the ship. They couldn’t
care less what we do with salvage.”

Gunner stood outside the door, waiting
patiently for her to join him in the hall.

“Why do I feel more like a prisoner with each
passing moment?” she asked.

“Because you are new on the ship and the
captain doesn’t know if he can trust you.”

He tried to shut the door to the boiler room,
but Wink scooted out just before it shut tight. The little beast
glared with its beady red eye, first at Gunner, then at Nita.

“You know, for all I’ve heard about this
thing being the ship’s inspector, I haven’t seen it do very much
inspection at all. All it seems to do is sleep in the boiler room
or stare at me.”

“He must be doing his rounds or we’d have
shaken to pieces during those maneuvers, but as inspectors go, he’s
not the best I’ve seen. I wouldn’t let the captain hear me say
that, though. He loves that thing.”

“I wonder why.”

“I never cared enough to ask. See you at
mealtime, and don’t do anything foolish.”

Nita nodded and set off toward the nearest
ladder to find where the turbine feed pipes let out. Wink hopped
along behind her, not taking his eye off her. It was the work of
hours to trace out the maddening network of pipes again and again,
trying to tease out an understanding of their layout. She stopped
for meals twice, and once to sleep, but she was determined to find
some way to keep to their schedule. Tracing the pipe runs from
beginning to end more than three times revealed something new each
time. Sometimes it was a new twist or turn that had escaped her
notice on the previous pass, other times new valves presented
themselves, or redundant connections turned up. Ginger taps to the
pipes revealed that some were still getting steam, sending her once
again to the start to find how it had gotten there and if it could
be coaxed into running the turbines. A handful of adjusted switches
and valves got the pressure as far as a leaky connection tucked
deep in the space below some floorboards on the main deck that had
been damaged during the attack. It must have been a troublesome
connection even before taking a blow in the fight, because an
ancient and moldy rag was tied around it, presumably in some fug
folk approved attempt to get the leak under control. Now it was
rushing with steam so viciously she could barely get near it.

“Ms. Graus. Sounds to me like some of those
ailing turbines are showing signs of life,” the captain called
out.

“Yes, Captain. This maze of piping is finally
revealing its secrets. If I can just find one or two more tubes
between here and the turbines, or maybe knock loose a clog, I think
I could get them moving again.”

“Well, that’s fine, ma’am, but until you do,
shut the pressure back off. Unless those turbines are up to full
speed they’re just a waste of steam.”

“Agreed.” She reached down under the deck
board and found the nearest valve, cutting the steam to the
connection.

“We’re pulling up on the Lags,” he said.
“I’ll be taking Butch, Coop, and Gunner to help me fetch the
supplies. You’re here with Lil. We’re going to let the boiler go
cold while we’re docked. I want the two of you to patch up the hole
in the envelope, then scrape out the firebox and reservoir. Should
get us another few knots.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Ah! Ah ha!” Gunner crowed in triumph, the
sound accompanied by a metallic grind as he pulled something free
from the wailer craft. As Nita had been investigating the pipes,
he’d been working on it with the same diligence and had managed to
splay a sampling of the mechanical innards of the vehicle over much
of the deck, piled in crates and baskets. “Finally got the gun
free! And the grappler too!”

“Any use to us?” the captain asked.

“Both are steam powered. They’d have to be
installed. You think we’ll have the money to have it done?”

“Let’s get there first. We can talk figures
later. Stand ready, I’m bringing her down.”

A grinding sound kicked up above them, the
same one that always accompanied their descents, and the ship
tipped forward a bit. Nita carefully worked her way to the railing,
held tight, and looked to the horizon. After her embarrassing first
reaction to the view off the deck, and twice more nearly repeating
it, Nita decided the churning her stomach did every time she
remembered how high she was would have to be overcome, sooner
rather than later. The number of times her pipe investigations had
taken her to the deck gave her ample opportunities to immerse
herself in the frightening view. Sure enough, each time it lost a
bit of its bite. The pitch and shift of the ship still turned her
stomach, but at least now she barely felt a flutter when she looked
to the sky and sea. She watched the green specks against the sea
slowly grow larger, the tiny chain of forgotten islands she’d only
seen on a map until today. The sun was setting, painting the sky a
rich gold and sparkling against the churning waves. Now that the
gastric repercussions of the view had been put to rest, the beauty
of it struck her with its full force, and it was nearly enough to
take her breath away.

Gunner walked up to the railing beside her.
“Nice to see you aren’t making any more offerings to the sea,” he
said, fiddling a bit with the liberated weapon under his arm.

“Look at it, Gunner. How can you help but be
awed by it?”

“The Lags? They’re one big cesspool of a
place. What’s to be awed about?”

“I mean the view. Do you know how many
painters I know who would give their firstborn children to paint a
landscape like that?”

“If you wanted to see the world, you
shouldn’t have closed your borders. Although I’ll tell you that
most of the world isn’t half this pretty when you get up close. And
something that’s only pretty from a distance isn’t really pretty at
all, is it?”

“Beauty is beauty. It is present at any
distance. You just need to learn how to see it.”

#

As deeply as Nita believed that there was
beauty to be found in anything, she had to grudgingly agree that
some places did a better job of hiding it than others. The
Lagomoore Islands, for instance, lost any trace of beauty once the
ship was near enough for them to see the clusters of rusty,
ramshackle buildings and smell the rancid and acrid smoke that rose
from them. The perfect, little points of emerald visible from the
sea revealed themselves to be cluttered with the remains of easily
a dozen airships that had crashed or, judging from the looks of the
people milling about on the shore, been shot down. The
Wind
Breaker
’s lazy spiral downward took them on an aerial tour of
the largest island, where three more airships docked. Each ship had
a unique configuration, but they all shared a similar level of
disrepair. The largest of them was clearly the patrol ship for the
island, based upon the raw firepower it had on display. It had as
many cannons as it had portholes and twice the turbines that the
Wind Breaker
had.

Whereas a sea ship needed little more than to
drop an anchor near the shore to dock, things were somewhat more
complex for an airship. The anchor was always an option, but seldom
a desirable one. In this case their dock was a quartet of rickety
wooden towers jutting up from the shore in a roughly square
configuration. The captain maneuvered his ship as gently as he
could, bringing it to a near stop as they approached the first
tower, where a man waited. Gunner heaved a mooring line to the man,
who scrambled to secure it. Once secured, Gunner threw a second
line to a second tower. Once satisfied the towers would keep them
in place and the mooring lines were properly taut, Captain Mack
gathered his crew.

“We’ll probably be onshore for the better
part of two hours. Lil, Ms. Graus, your orders are simple. Patch
the envelope, clean the boiler, and shoot any noncrewmember who
tries to board the ship. If there’s time left after that, finish
disassembling that wailer ship. Leaving it intact might draw some
of their brothers itching for justice, but the parts should be
worth something. We’ll be back with as much food, fuel, and water
as we’re willing to pay for in two hours. Be finished by then.”

With that, he and the rest of his crew were
on their way.

“Okay, you heard the cap’n,” Lil said.
“Follow me.”

She walked to a supply chest on the deck,
still sporting some nails from the attack. From inside she fetched
a lidded bucket of what looked like pitch, then handed Nita a
brush, a long hooked needle, a length of rope, and some thread.

“Come on. I’ll show you the ropes,” Lil said.
She led the way to the base of the rigging below the leak. It was a
narrow net leading from a set of tie-downs on the deck to some
fasteners on the envelope above. She gave the rigging a tug. “These
are them. I’ll head up and get things ready. Give me the rope, then
go cut a piece of the emptied-out envelope from that wailer you
took care of. About… yay by about… yay,” she said, giving a rough
sizing with her hands.

Lil clutched one end of the rope in her teeth
and scampered effortlessly up the rigging. Once she reached the top
she threaded the rope it and lowered it back down.

“Now put the brush in the bucket and tie the
rope to the handle, then come on up.”

Nita tried to follow the directions. The
first part was simple enough, but climbing the rigging turned out
to be easier said than done. Nevertheless, she managed to reach the
top with a bit of effort. Lil hauled the bucket up, tied off the
rope, and pulled out the brush.

“The first step’s easy. Just slather a bunch
of this black stuff around and over the hole.” She planted one foot
on a knot in the rigging and swung out over the deck, reaching as
far as she could and giving the fabric of the envelope a few good
swipes. “Then you do the same to the cloth there. Not too much now.
Then you slap it over the hole like that. Now the tedious bit.
Gotta tie a sling so’s I can get a good angle on this.” She pulled
up some of the slack end of the rope and tied a loop to the top of
the rigging, then slipped her arms through the loop and stood
against the rope, stretching the loop to its limit and positioning
herself directly below the bulging patch. “Now you just sew it.
Gotta do three rows.”

“You seem awfully comfortable dangling above
the deck like that,” Nita said, a bit nervous just watching.

“Aw, you get used to it. You can get used to
pretty near anything. Speakin’ of which, how are you liking life on
the ship? Getting the swing of it?”

“I think I’ll be able to manage it for as
long as I have to.”

“I can tell you, it’s great having another
girl my age on board. Or just about, anyway. Being on the ship with
a bunch of other men can wear on you. And there isn’t a looker
among them. ’Cept maybe my brother, but regardless of what you
heard, us folk from Westrim don’t date inside the family.”