Maledictus Aether (3 page)

I got to say, I a
m
impressed.

“
They a
re made with
wire that was fused with a conductor, and it collects the
electricity in the hull at the stern,” I state, finger slipping
over the blueprints. “From there, the electricity is used to power
the lights and, at times, to defend the ship. The
Charybdis
is not designed to run on electricity, though – Ashe
went over the schematics with me for a whole week.”

“
What’re we runnin’ on, lad?” h
e inquires, smirking as he watches me. I look at him a
moment.

“
Steam,”
I reply. “She
is the only ship to be powered by a single source. The sails
collect water from the clouds we pass through, and the water is
stored in two tanks: one for drinking, another for the engine.
There, the water is boiled and the steam is transferred through a
series of pipes to the two engines, where it pushes the pistons
that control the propellers and sails, and the engine that controls
the Aether and the nets. She is also the only ship to be completely
self-sustaining, with her own greenhouse.”

He nods, impressed.

“
Ye know yer
stuff, I’ll give ye that,” he chuckles, and my eyebrows shoot up.
This was a test – this slightly barmy old man was testing
me.

I look a little closer at the
man, really looking at him.

He is aged, his hair gre
ying but not balding yet. His skin is marked with age spots
and he has crow’s feet around his eyes, indicating that he laughs
quite a bit. He’s missing a tooth and there is a scar running over
his nose, disfiguring his face slightly – and his eyes are white,
unseeing.

The m
an is
blind
.

“
Took ye long
enough ta notice,” he laughs, stepping up to me and gripping my
shoulder. “Nothin’ gets past old Hardin’ ‘ere, though.”

“
Really now?”
I ask, amused.

I like this guy. Sure, he i
s in his forties at least and he is a bit scrambled in the
attic, but there is a certain charm to him that makes him
likeable.

“
Yer legs are
machines,” he states, and I nod, impressed. “Yer arm’s a machine,
too, an’ yer heart.”

“
Not bad. I
take it back,” I say, and he jabs me in the chest.

“
Darn right ye’d better learn ta respect yer elders, or am
gonna get my steam bolt and shoot ye to kingdom
come,” he threatens, but there is a smile on his
face that makes me return it. “Now let me show ye a thing or two
about firin’ a cannon.”

I think it is safe to say that I ha
ve made an ally here. A good one.

• II
  –
  Sky Pirates
  

The alarm sounds sometime around four in the morning a few
days later. All night, t
he
sound of the thunderstorm we had been trailing to gather lightning
rumbled beneath us, having lowered our altitude to do so. The whine
of the alarm – that we were all familiar with by now – rang out in
the still of the pre-dawn, forcing every hand on deck up from their
cots and suited up.

I barely have time to pull on
my waistcoat before Captain Stanbury’s order rings out through the
system of communication set up for the ship.

“
All hands on
deck! Enemy ship sighted, preparing to engage.”

I a
m up and out on
deck a little slower than a thought (as I have always believed the
expression
faster than a
thought
to be highly
inaccurate, but I digress) with the deck alive with activity. The
deckhands are rigging the sails, the Captain and the Quarter Master
are up at the helm, and a handful of crewmembers are going in the
hull to prime up the Tesla Bolts.

I make my way over to the helm, where I quickly make my way
over to the controls, and begin pulling the nets in. As I do that,
I pull aside the Quarter Master – now done with his conversation
with the Captain – and instruct him to lo
ck the hull’s nets in once they are through; making my
way back down to the bow so I can tend to the cannon’s
power.

Inside the hull, the ringing of the alarm is subdued yet
the
sound of booted feet
running back and forth is amplified. I slip through the maze of
wires and pipes, heading back towards the stern as I make my way to
the cannon’s main controls.

Harding taught me quite a bit about the whole system in the
last two days, including the dual power and the override system in
the engine room. I pull the lever that diverts a portion of the
ship’s steam to the third engine, which is about double the
size of the other two (and they are
already rather big) and sporting about a dozen more valves and
levers.

“
Port to
mainframe. Ready to engage.”

I look briefly at the communication pipe snaking from this
position to port and starboa
rd, reaching for the valve that will divert the lightning
over to the Tesla cannons portside. Flicking it, I relay the all
clear to them and fire up the engine. Chugging into gear, the
clockwork starts turning and the steam hisses in the pipes as it
makes its way to the engine. The confirmation that the nets are
safely in comes in through a separate pipe, and I return to the
main engines briefly to shut them off, diverting the amount of
steam that was dedicated to the nets to the Tesla Bolts.

Af
terwards, I ensure
the pressure is stable before I address the helm, keeping my left
hand on the override in case it starts overheating or the supply
level starts falling drastically. The one thing I don’t know yet is
their damage output for every shot fired, and the cost per
shot.

“
How i
s it looking up
there, Edmund?” I call, fingers tapping on the brass wheel as I
watch and wait, looking for any indication of problems.

“
We’ve got an
unidentified threat on our hands, Kennedy. They’re not firing yet –
the Captain’s trying to make contact.”

“
Keep me
posted, alright?”

“
Aye.”

With my right hand now free, I take a moment to check the
time on my
father’s pocket
watch, the hands stating that it is ten past four in the morning.
Making a face, I pocket it again and grip the valve with both
hands, eyes riveted to the gauges in front of me.

For a while all I have to show
for the passing of time is the hiss of steam and the shivering of
the gauges, sensitive needles wiggling up and down. Then, the
Quarter Master comes back.

“
Their Captain has boarded – he says his crew’s not here to
fight – hang on.”
A
pause.
“He says they heard of
the Fleet hiring Cephas Kennedy Watkins’s kid, and they want to
talk.”

What?

“
Come
topside, Kennedy. He wants to speak with you.”

“
The
cannons?”

“
Leave them
engaged – if things get hairy, I can override them from
here.”

“
Aye.”

I pull away from the engine,
slipping through the maze of wiring and pipes until I can hoist
myself up topside, kicking the hatch closed and glancing around the
deck. I knead the skin by the metal joining my artificial arm to my
collarbone, booted feet carrying me to the Captain standing by the
mainmast.

He turns his head as I
approach, frown etched on his face as he continues facing the
captain from the other ship.

The man turns his head, in the middle of looking around,
and faces
me, grinning at my
approach. He is a well-built man with a steam bolt at his waist,
hanging loosely there over his waistcoat. He leans against a cane
that, no doubt, is just a sabre in its sheath, and uses his free
left hand to lift his large hat from his head in greeting. He has a
pair of aviator goggles hanging from his neck.

“
I assume you’re the boy?” h
e questions as I stop a few feet in front of him. “I
recognize those goggles ‘round your head, and the waistcoat – he
never went very far without them.”

“
Did you...
know my father?” I ask, and the man laughs, throwing his free arm
around my shoulders and patting me on my artificial arm. I blink at
him.

“
Mind if I borrow the lad for a while, Captain Stanbury?” He
questions,
and I look to my
Captain. There is something about this newcomer... well, things are
not as they seem. “Not very long, mind you; wouldn’t want to pull
your Chief Engineer from you for too long.”

Captain Stanbury crosses his
arms, frowning.

“
Very well,”
he nods. “I’ll allow it – just don’t keep him past the hour. We’ve
a tight schedule to adhere to.”

“
Of course,” he smiles, turning me away from the man and
walking m
e towards the other
ship. There is a gangplank stretching between both decks, the vast
expanse of the sky beneath it threatening to swallow us whole as we
cross.

This ship I step onto is quite different, an older model
styled after a galleon of the kind we use on sea. Its sails shine
with the
tell-tale shimmer of
Aether, and the wood beneath my feet is about a shade darker than
the mahogany used for the
Charybdis.

The deckhands do no
t
really look our way as the Captain steers me to his quarters,
pulling at the rigging and keeping the ship in shape. We slip into
his quarters, and he closes the door behind us while I walk inside,
impressed at what I see.

The farthest wall, behind the large desk, is a large window
overlooking the sky around us, and the other walls are filled from
the floor to the ceiling with books. There’s a door that leads to
his sleeping quarters, no doubt, and in
the centre of the room there are two
comfortable-looking couches with a coffee table sitting there, and
on its surface lie two cups of coffee, still steaming, and a plate
of pastries.

“
Please, sit
down,” he insists, taking a seat on one of the couches and reaching
for one of the mugs. I follow suit, taking the other mug and
sipping it.

It is a bit bitter, but I have no
t had a decent cup in quite some time so I do not
necessarily care.

“
As Captain of this ship, let me be the first to welcome you
aboard the
Calypso
,” he states,
and I nod my thanks. “I’m Captain Walters, but I hate formality
just as much as the next man, so please, just call me
Davis.”

“
I don’t mean
to sound rude or anything, sir,” I start, cradling the mug, “but
why am I here? I’m afraid I never knew my father.”

“
Oh, I’m
quite aware of that,” he chuckles, putting his mug down on the
table and leaning forward. I watch him, curious. “Your father died
at the hands of the Fleet itself – no, lad, I’m more interested in
his prodigy.”

“
I was told my father died in battle against
Sky Pirates,” I counter, and he
shrugs.

“
They weren’t
lying,” he says, “he died in battle, but not against pirates. You
see, lad, your father was a pirate – and the damn best there ever
was.”

I lower my mug to the table,
eyebrows creasing.

“
Captain, I a
m afraid
I’m going to ask you to start from the beginning,” I warn, and he
leans back in the brown couch. “Everything you know about my
father, if you do not mind.”

Hands behind his head and blue
eyes riveted on me, he begins.

“
Cephas
started out in the Fleet, working his way up from deckhand to
Quarter Master. He was an excellent cartographer and capable of
plotting courses through anything,” he starts, eyes never leaving
mine. “Quite a righteous man, but he’d do anything to make his
wife-in-waiting’s life easier, as neither of them were very
wealthy.

“
That being
said, I met your father in Clockwork – a bar, to be specific. It
was his downtime as the ship he was on restocked in supplies before
continuing its flight.” He takes a biscuit from the plate of
assorted pastries, waving it a little as he continues. “He wanted a
quick way to earn a good life for his lady, and I told him that the
real money wasn’t with the Fleet – it was with piracy.”

Captain Davis takes a moment to
eat the biscuit, never once looking away from me as I watch him
with eyes as wide as saucers.

“
Your father
did just that – worked for me for a while, then gathered his own
crew and set sail for different skies, where he made his fortune,”
he continues, smile still in place. He scratches his thin beard.
“Before his battle with the Fleet that cost him his life, he hid
away his fortune and gave the secret of its location to no soul. As
a matter of fact, he was en route to find Tier when he was
ambushed. All his crew died, he was hung from the gallows of
Clockwork, and his ship was sold for parts.”

He smiles at me, his tale done,
and I sit back on the couch, deflating.

“
My father could no
t
have been a pirate,” I say, my words nearly a whisper. “My mother –
she would have told me.”