“Give us what you can. Tell Aggie she has charge of engineering and must put our new fuel to good use.”
Percy activated a puffer and they jerked up with a massive flatulent noise. The gangplank, not properly winched in, crashed down against the side of the ship. There was a plunking sound as coal, and possibly people, fell into the river.
“Decklings in the sky, talk to me!”
Voices called down from viewpoints up on the balloon, crow’s nest, and around the deck.
“Nothing, Lady Captain.”
“Can’t see ’em.”
“Bloody dark out there.”
“State your location as well as your report, please!” Rue barked.
Decklings instantly responded.
“Aft, nothing.”
“Fore, nothing.”
“Port, nothing.”
“Starboard, man down, dangling plank.” That was Spoo.
“Crow’s nest, nothing! No, wait—” Top of the mast started his call and then stopped. The boy’s voice was high from youth, thank goodness, not a helium leak. “Correction. Ornithopters. Two, sir. No, three. Sorry, Lady Captain, not sir.”
“Just report!” Rue yelled back. “Don’t worry about formalities.”
“They’re coming in under the starboard side, must have taken off from land. One looks like it might try to land on deck… no, only coasting in close. Watch out, Bennie!”
There came a twang and a curse. Bennie, the deckling stationed on the aft railing, shot at the approaching ornithopter with his crossbow.
“Nicely done,” called out the boy in the crow’s nest. He was now clinging like a monkey to the ropes of the aft tie point, leaning out and swinging around to get as best a view of their attackers as possible.
Rue said, “Willard, to aft. Give Bennie a hand. Spoo, Virgil, man the Gatling. Tasherit, patrol the perimeter. Everyone, I want line of sight on the other two ’thopters.” She made a mental note to evaluate the weight allotment and see about installing a second gun starboard.
Spoo dashed by, making for the gun.
“Spoo! What’s the name of my eyes up there?” Rue gestured with a thumb to the boy dangling near the crow’s nest.
“Nips, Lady Captain!”
Rue winced. Unfortunate name. Plus “Lady Captain” was quite the mouthful under adverse conditions. “Sir will do for now, Spoo.”
“Yes, sir!” Spoo ran to the gun.
“Nips!” Rue shouted up. “The others? A location if you would.”
“Out of sight, Captain. I think they’re below us. Can you have a sootie look out the boiler hatch?”
“Good idea. Percy, get Aggie on the tube. Have her people check.”
Percy was occupied with navigation and just as unwilling to deal with Aggie as Rue, especially when engineering was without Quesnel. Nevertheless, he did as ordered.
“Aggie says you’re a blowhard doxie and they’ve two in sight, one heading up port, the other fore and starboard slightly.”
“Spoo!” Rue took the information without acknowledging the insult. “Ready to shoot a deterrent blast on my mark. One pass, don’t waste bullets. Just keep them from boarding your side. Put the fear of death into ’em.”
“Yes, sir!”
“And don’t kill anyone we like.”
“’Course not, sir. I ain’t sloppy!” Spoo’s tone was offended, but Rue worried the gun was an awful lot to handle. Spoo was small for her age.
“Tasherit, one’s coming up fore and right. Get ready to give them hell, but don’t get yourself captured, for goodness’ sake. Decklings with crossbows, back up the lioness.” Repelling an invasion was harder than it looked.
Another few shots rang out. Loud bangs reverberated through the night, attackers firing on them. Then came the answering rat-tat-tat of the Gatling. Mixed in was the twang of crossbows and the hiss of an angry werecat.
Rue went to support her decklings aft, dealing with the first attacker. She flipped her parasol, opening it for acid emission. It was silly to waste lapis solaris on a mortal, but it would, hopefully, eat into the canvas of the aircraft’s wings. She reached the railing. The ornithopter was close, a graceful two-seater with one man piloting and another shooting. The decklings were busy loading and firing crossbows as fast as they could. It wasn’t easy and most of their shots bounced harmlessly off the engine.
Rue took position, gave them a feral smile, which the decklings appreciated. She held her parasol by the tip and tilted it over the railing. She dialled in the emission and pressed the release button hard, spraying acid upon the attackers.
One of them screamed.
Another shot rang out. A hole appeared in Rue’s parasol. Wonderful, now it’s even uglier.
Rue felt an icy pain in her right arm, worse than shape change, which she hadn’t thought possible, and red liquid appeared where her sleeve used to be. I’ve been shot, she thought inanely. Fortunately, she was possessed of enough gumption to pull her parasol back to safety before she began blacking out.
“Tasherit,” she called weakly.
The next thing she knew, her bones were breaking and re-forming and she was shaking golden fur and feeling the might of immortality in her bones. The extrusion of the bullet from her foreleg, fortunately not silver, was an odd, awful sensation. Her rapidly healing body simply ejected the shrapnel out of the muscle as if passing wind.
Rue should have considered her dress. How many times had she shifted form, and yet she always forgot to consider her dress. Worths are wasted on me. She tried to extract herself from the tangle of skirts, hat, and petticoats without tearing anything.
Percy activated a puffer and they jerked up with a massive flatulent noise. The gangplank, not properly winched in, crashed down against the side of the ship. There was a plunking sound as coal, and possibly people, fell into the river.
“Decklings in the sky, talk to me!”
Voices called down from viewpoints up on the balloon, crow’s nest, and around the deck.
“Nothing, Lady Captain.”
“Can’t see ’em.”
“Bloody dark out there.”
“State your location as well as your report, please!” Rue barked.
Decklings instantly responded.
“Aft, nothing.”
“Fore, nothing.”
“Port, nothing.”
“Starboard, man down, dangling plank.” That was Spoo.
“Crow’s nest, nothing! No, wait—” Top of the mast started his call and then stopped. The boy’s voice was high from youth, thank goodness, not a helium leak. “Correction. Ornithopters. Two, sir. No, three. Sorry, Lady Captain, not sir.”
“Just report!” Rue yelled back. “Don’t worry about formalities.”
“They’re coming in under the starboard side, must have taken off from land. One looks like it might try to land on deck… no, only coasting in close. Watch out, Bennie!”
There came a twang and a curse. Bennie, the deckling stationed on the aft railing, shot at the approaching ornithopter with his crossbow.
“Nicely done,” called out the boy in the crow’s nest. He was now clinging like a monkey to the ropes of the aft tie point, leaning out and swinging around to get as best a view of their attackers as possible.
Rue said, “Willard, to aft. Give Bennie a hand. Spoo, Virgil, man the Gatling. Tasherit, patrol the perimeter. Everyone, I want line of sight on the other two ’thopters.” She made a mental note to evaluate the weight allotment and see about installing a second gun starboard.
Spoo dashed by, making for the gun.
“Spoo! What’s the name of my eyes up there?” Rue gestured with a thumb to the boy dangling near the crow’s nest.
“Nips, Lady Captain!”
Rue winced. Unfortunate name. Plus “Lady Captain” was quite the mouthful under adverse conditions. “Sir will do for now, Spoo.”
“Yes, sir!” Spoo ran to the gun.
“Nips!” Rue shouted up. “The others? A location if you would.”
“Out of sight, Captain. I think they’re below us. Can you have a sootie look out the boiler hatch?”
“Good idea. Percy, get Aggie on the tube. Have her people check.”
Percy was occupied with navigation and just as unwilling to deal with Aggie as Rue, especially when engineering was without Quesnel. Nevertheless, he did as ordered.
“Aggie says you’re a blowhard doxie and they’ve two in sight, one heading up port, the other fore and starboard slightly.”
“Spoo!” Rue took the information without acknowledging the insult. “Ready to shoot a deterrent blast on my mark. One pass, don’t waste bullets. Just keep them from boarding your side. Put the fear of death into ’em.”
“Yes, sir!”
“And don’t kill anyone we like.”
“’Course not, sir. I ain’t sloppy!” Spoo’s tone was offended, but Rue worried the gun was an awful lot to handle. Spoo was small for her age.
“Tasherit, one’s coming up fore and right. Get ready to give them hell, but don’t get yourself captured, for goodness’ sake. Decklings with crossbows, back up the lioness.” Repelling an invasion was harder than it looked.
Another few shots rang out. Loud bangs reverberated through the night, attackers firing on them. Then came the answering rat-tat-tat of the Gatling. Mixed in was the twang of crossbows and the hiss of an angry werecat.
Rue went to support her decklings aft, dealing with the first attacker. She flipped her parasol, opening it for acid emission. It was silly to waste lapis solaris on a mortal, but it would, hopefully, eat into the canvas of the aircraft’s wings. She reached the railing. The ornithopter was close, a graceful two-seater with one man piloting and another shooting. The decklings were busy loading and firing crossbows as fast as they could. It wasn’t easy and most of their shots bounced harmlessly off the engine.
Rue took position, gave them a feral smile, which the decklings appreciated. She held her parasol by the tip and tilted it over the railing. She dialled in the emission and pressed the release button hard, spraying acid upon the attackers.
One of them screamed.
Another shot rang out. A hole appeared in Rue’s parasol. Wonderful, now it’s even uglier.
Rue felt an icy pain in her right arm, worse than shape change, which she hadn’t thought possible, and red liquid appeared where her sleeve used to be. I’ve been shot, she thought inanely. Fortunately, she was possessed of enough gumption to pull her parasol back to safety before she began blacking out.
“Tasherit,” she called weakly.
The next thing she knew, her bones were breaking and re-forming and she was shaking golden fur and feeling the might of immortality in her bones. The extrusion of the bullet from her foreleg, fortunately not silver, was an odd, awful sensation. Her rapidly healing body simply ejected the shrapnel out of the muscle as if passing wind.
Rue should have considered her dress. How many times had she shifted form, and yet she always forgot to consider her dress. Worths are wasted on me. She tried to extract herself from the tangle of skirts, hat, and petticoats without tearing anything.
