Authors: Kenneth Oppel
Kate was staring at me.
“You made a very alarming sound,” she said. “Nightmare?”
I nodded, not wanting to describe it, for it still hovered with frightening clarity in my mind. I looked over at the coffin, its lid closed. The lights and heaters were still running. The machine blinked and gurgled water.
“The wind’s died down. And we’re rising,” I said. A ship’s movements had never been a secret to me; I’d always been able to tell when she was climbing, descending, turning, no matter how slight the motion.
“I hadn’t even noticed,” said Kate.
“It’s very gentle,” I said, not wanting to alarm her. Still, I wondered how long this had been going on. With every
hundred feet, the air thinned even more. I looked at Nadira, still asleep under her mask. Her breathing was fast and shallow.
“Hal told me to turn off her tank at half past three,” Kate said, “but I didn’t have the heart.”
I nodded, but was calculating how much oxygen we had left. The longer we stayed up high, the more we’d come to rely on tanked air. I couldn’t quite understand why I didn’t feel dizzier. I did take longer to do things, every step an effort, but I was still all right. Kate looked very tired, the skin beneath her eyes smudged with purple.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“I wish I knew more chemistry,” she said.
I had to laugh. “That must be very distressing.”
“I’m just trying to figure out how they do it. The aerozoans.” I saw she had one of her little notebooks out. At that moment I felt very fond of them; they seemed almost as much a part of her as her hair or imperious nostrils.
“Its diet seems so small. A little food. A little water. Yet it produces enough energy to keep itself alive; it produces hydrium, and also a huge amount of electricity—to keep away predators, I suppose. I wonder if it somehow draws energy from the sun. Really, it’s a perfect little machine.”
If she hadn’t used the word machine, I probably wouldn’t have made the connection. At last I understood.
“He got the idea from them,” I said, pointing to the aerozoan Grunel had collared with wires. “That’s why he kept them. He was studying them to find out how they produced
so much electricity. And he copied them!”
“What’s going on?” Hal said, squinting over at us.
“Matt’s having a brainstorm,” said Kate.
“The machine,” I said excitedly. “I’ve figured out what it does.”
I expected Hal to turn over and go back to sleep, but he gave a sigh and sat up.
“He uses the sun. He collects the light with that big telescope, just like the aerozoans must collect the sun’s energy. Something happens inside there. It’s like a giant generator, but it only needs air and water to make an electrical charge. I have no idea how. Then as a by-product, it makes heat, more water, and hydrium.”
“Hydrium?” Kate asked.
“There’s an exhaust pipe at the back that vents hydrium. And the water just keeps going round and round to keep the process going.”
“It’s a big battery,” Hal said with a shrug.
“No, not just a battery,” I said. “It makes power out of nothing. Well, not nothing. Just air and water!”
“Well, I’m glad the old fart came up with something useful,” said Hal, getting up and stretching.
“You don’t understand, Hal. This is an eternal supply of electricity. Enough to run engines. Enough to power tools and generators. And enough extra hydrium to lift a platoon of airships.”
“Or an aerial city,” said Kate.
“Exactly!” I said. “This machine is Grunel’s treasure!”
But Hal wasn’t listening. He was looking over my shoulder.
“Something moved,” he said.
We all turned to the vivarium. The four aerozoans dangled limply in the air.
“They always move a little,” I said.
Then one of them flinched—and I flinched with it. This was no shifting with the wind. The creature’s gauzy apron flared, then contracted sharply, and it jetted higher. Its tentacles flexed.
“Oh, my goodness,” breathed Kate.
“They’re supposed to be dead!” Hal shouted. “You told me they were dead!”
“It’s the water,” Kate said, excited. “I don’t believe it! It must be anhydrobiosis.”
“What’re you talking about?” I demanded
“Some creatures put themselves into hibernation when there’s not enough water. I read about this. It’s called anhydrobiosis. And then when there’s ample water, they revivify. But this is remarkable. Usually it only happens with very small, primitive organisms.”
“Then let’s stop watering them!” Hal said.
“They’re not machines,” Kate told him. “You can’t just turn them off.”
I ran to the glass door to make sure it was securely shut. It was. The aerozoan was now jetting about the vivarium like an airborne squid. It nudged one of the others, and seconds later that one jerked to life too.
“This is fascinating,” Kate said.
Suddenly the third aerozoan jerked to life. Only one didn’t stir: the one harnessed by Grunel. The other three circled around it. The biggest flew in close, squatted against it, and ripped away some of its withered flesh with its beak. The other two aerozoans closed in as well and started feeding. There was a great deal of fighting between them as they jockeyed for space, lashing out at one another with their tentacles.
“After being so long in hibernation, they’re bound to be voraciously hungry,” explained Kate.
“I could’ve done without the voracious bit,” I said.
“What’s going on?” Nadira asked, sitting up, only half awake.
“Kate’s pets have woken up,” Hal said, taking out his pistol. “But not for long.”
“Put that away!” Kate said. “They’re safely behind glass.”
“Don’t do it, Hal,” I said. “Shatter the glass, and we’ll have all of them out in the open. Save your bullets.”
Reluctantly he holstered his gun. Nadira watched the aerozoans with a mixture of fascination and horror. Kate was entranced. In a matter of minutes they had stripped the dead one, leaving only its balloon sac. Then they pierced that with their beaks, tearing it to shreds as it sagged slowly to the floor. Even with a glass wall between us, I felt sickened being so close to them. Their feeding noises were muted—a rapid clicking of their beaks, the rustle and slap of membranes and tentacles jostling.
“Have any of you seen the floating eggs?” Kate asked.
“Likely they got eaten,” I said dully.
The aerozoans seemed to be sated, for they had stopped foraging about the vivarium floor and drifted up to the ceiling. Their balloon sacs, I noticed, were fuller, as though they’d already produced more hydrium for themselves.
I wouldn’t have noticed the break in the glass if an aerozoan hadn’t drifted right past it.
“Up there,” I blurted in alarm, pointing. “There’s a hole!”
It was small and jagged, no bigger than a billiard ball. The aerozoans were too big to fit through, but the glass around it was cracked and weakened by ice, and I knew the power of the creature’s tentacles. I ran to get the sealing tape. The maintenance scaffolding that ran around Grunel’s telescope was almost flush with the vivarium wall, and I figured I could reach the hole from there. I started up the spiral stairs.
“I’m going to patch it,” I said. I reached the scaffolding, puffing hard. As I leaned out over the railing towards the glass, the aerozoans did not move, but I noticed that their tentacles drew up a little closer towards their bodies, as if tensed. I tore off a strip of tape with my teeth and leaned way over to patch the hole.
“Matt! Watch out!”
From the floor, Nadira was pointing at something behind me. I whirled, instinctively dropping to a crouch. Above me was a small translucent shimmer—a tiny aerozoan. It didn’t seem to have any dark designs on me, for it was bobbing away, gossamer apron flapping, tentacles waggling like a baby’s chubby fingers. It was no bigger than a small jellyfish,
but I didn’t care how harmless it looked. I wanted it far away.
“It must have hatched,” Kate called up.
And found its way out through the hole. How many eggs had there been? I tried to remember. They were all in a cluster. Eight or nine maybe? Cautiously I scanned the room, wondering if any others had hatched and escaped.
Near the top of the telescope, I saw the glimmer of balloon sacs and tentacles.
“There are three more,” I yelled.
Taking my piece of tape I leaned out to seal the hole in the vivarium. A gust of warm mango hit me in the face, and a split second later a tentacle lashed against the vivarium’s wall, inches from my face. I heard a crack and recoiled. An aerozoan billowed against the glass, tentacles writhing.
“Get down from there, Cruse,” shouted Hal. “You’re just making it angry.”
The glass now bore a network of hairline cracks. The tentacle struck again. This time glass splintered and the hole doubled in size. The creature’s tentacle shot clear through, getting slashed against the sharp edges. It pulled back, but the tip remained in the hole, delicately tapping the edges as if mapping it.
“Matt!” Kate called, “I really think you ought to come down!”
I couldn’t have agreed more. I backed towards the stairs, for I wanted to keep my eye on the big one in the vivarium. To my relief, it seemed to lose interest in me and sailed away. Then it stopped. It turned. It jetted straight for the glass,
stretching itself as long and skinny as a spear. I cursed under my breath and started running. The aerozoan gave one last great contraction of its apron and tentacles, compressed itself into a tight bundle, and soared clean through the hole, over my head and into the engineerium.
“Everyone out!” Hal was shouting. “Get to the door!”
I hurtled off the spiral stairs and rushed to join the retreat. We took nothing, just ran for the catwalk. Hal had his pistol at the ready and was trying to take aim. The aerozoan swelled back to its normal size and jetted up to the ceiling among the cables and pulleys. For a second I lost sight of it. Then it moved, and I saw its dangling tentacles sweeping towards us, fast.
“Out, out!” Hal shouted, wielding his pistol.
“Don’t shoot!” I yelled. “You’ll pierce the gas cells.”
Hal took a shot anyway, and missed, the bullet whistling through the ship’s innards.
I rushed Nadira and Kate ahead of me through the doorway, and then turned to see where Hal was. He was intent on taking another shot. One of the aerozoan’s tentacles hit a circular saw, and the electric current brought it briefly to life, sparks flying off its metal surface.
“Hal, come on!” I ran back to grab him and haul him out of the room, yanking the door shut behind us. It slid into place with a well-oiled hiss, and we were plunged into total darkness. The cold came upon us like a hammer’s blow.
Only Nadira had had the presence of mind to snatch up a
torch. We stood there in the pale light, shaking and panting, numbly pulling up our hoods and fastening buttons. We still had our sky suits, but in our panic to flee, we’d left behind our rucksacks, our gloves—and all the oxygen tanks. No one needed to mention any of this. We were all thinking it. We knew we could not go back inside.
Kate slipped her hand into mine. I squeezed back.
“It’s all right,” I said, “it’s nearly dawn. The
Saga
should be coming for us soon.”
“At first light, we’ll be back aboard,” Hal said. “A couple hours at most. The wind’s lost all her puff.”
“Let’s go to Grunel’s apartments and get as warm as we can,” I said, my teeth starting to chatter.
Kate did not object this time. After the aerozoans, our phantom fears seemed far less threatening.
“Good idea,” said Hal. “There are windows. We’ll have some light soon.”
Wearily, we made our way forward. My nostrils crackled with the cold. My face felt brittle as china. I pulled my hands up inside my sleeves, hoping to ease the icy pain that coursed through them.
The windows in Grunel’s quarters let in some star- and moonlight, and also the glow along the eastern horizon. We did not venture into the bedroom, but settled in the starboard lounge. I fetched all the remaining blankets from the linen cupboard. Hal draped a huge rug over the furniture and made a kind of tent for us, insulated with cushions. We huddled together, trying to keep the cold at bay.
We were all too dispirited to speak. Even Hal seemed completely exhausted. My heart beat faster than usual, strained but undefeated by the meagre air.
I did not know if we actually slept, or merely all lapsed into a kind of semiconscious stupor. I was aware of everyone’s laboured breathing. I was aware of the cold gripping my face and feet and hands. And yet I could not keep the image of Grunel’s machine from my mind. Hal hadn’t understood how important it was. If only we had the blueprints. Where had Hal sent them? Half awake, I slid out from my blankets and made my way to Grunel’s bedroom. The door was closed. I opened it. Inside I could make out only shadows. I saw the dark form of Theodore Grunel, hunched over in his chaise longue. I went to the message tubes.
Beneath the outgoing tube was a little row of buttons with the names of all the rooms where you could send messages. I found the button that was still pressed in.
Anger and disappointment gripped me.
Of all the places Hal could have sent the blueprints: he had sent them straight to the engineerium.
A
S
I
LEFT
G
RUNEL’S BEDROOM
, a ship’s horn blared in the distance. The long blast was followed by two shorter ones. I hurried back to the sitting room. Everyone was stirring, woken by the sound. I started scraping frost from the window, my fingers so cold I could scarcely move them: they seemed more claw than hand.
“That’s the
Saga
,” Hal said.
I expected him to leap up, but he stood slowly, as if dizzy. When he reached the window, he helped me clear a viewing hole. The cloudless sky looked like it had been carved from ice and was just beginning to show the first signs of colour. The
Sagarmatha
sailed towards us, the rising sun directly behind her, setting her metalwork ablaze. In all my life I’d never been so glad to see a ship.
“Thank God,” Hal murmured.
I couldn’t wait to get aboard her. It wasn’t food I longed for. I would go straight to the shower and let the warm water fall over my head and shoulders. It would stream down my arms and unlock my knuckles. It would pool at my feet, thawing my toes. Afterwards I would climb into my bunk. I would put on my oxygen mask and let it send me into a deep oblivious sleep.
Nadira and Kate joined us at the window, both puffing as if they’d been running.
“Oh, good,” said Nadira, and then started coughing.
“Are you all right?” I asked her.
She waved me away. “My throat’s just dry,” she croaked. “I’m fine.”
“We should be docked in less than an hour,” Hal said, rubbing his temples. “This has been a right fiasco. Two days and all we’ve done is play with Grunel’s toys. It’s his gold I want.”
“There might not be any gold,” I said. “Grunel came up here to finish work on his machine.”
“It won’t fit aboard the
Saga
.”
“But the blueprints will. You sent them to the engineerium.” Hal was silent for a moment, realizing what he’d done.
“We need to rest up first,” he said. “Then we’ll come back with some proper firepower and finish off those bloody squids. I want those blueprints.”
“Why?” Nadira asked, and I realized suddenly she didn’t know anything about what the machine really did. Back in the engineerium, she’d been asleep when I had my brainstorm.
“It makes electricity from air and water and sunlight,” I told her. “Power from nothing. An unlimited supply.”
Nadira nodded slowly. “That’s worth more than a shipload of gold.”
“It better be,” Hal said, and turned back to the
Saga
. His eyes widened in alarm.
I looked. The sun had climbed higher now, and out of its glare materialized another ship. At first all I could make out was her hazy silhouette, but as she pulled closer, fast, her lines
grew sharp and large and powerful. I squinted at her flank, looking for markings, but saw none. It didn’t matter—I recognized her. Rath’s ship from the heliodrome. I wondered if the
Sagarmatha
had even noticed her against the sun’s blaze.
“No …” Hal whispered, and then gave a great shout. “No!”
The ship closed swiftly on the
Sagarmatha
. Her nose dipped pugnaciously, like a bull charging, and then she skidded slightly as she turned broadside. I caught a flash of light from two hatches on her flank and saw cannons jut forward. Quick coronas flared from the iron snouts, and at the same moment a thunderclap cracked fissures in the glacial sky.
“Did they hit her?” Kate cried.
The ship fired a second volley at the
Saga
. It was hard to tell what was hitting and what was missing—I just heard the cannon’s thunderclaps and then the
Saga
was listing and sinking. There was no smoke, but I saw that her hull was crumpled in amidships. Her gas cells had been pierced and her hydrium was gushing into the sky. She fell fast, right past the
Hyperion
, close enough that I could see a smudge of frantic movement in the Control Car. And then she was gone.
“Marjorie!” Kate gasped. Her hands flew to her face, and she burst into tears.
I felt as if my lungs had been trampled. My heart beat so quickly I feared it would run away from me altogether. Hal was staring right at me, but didn’t see me. I knew he was furiously calculating what Dorje and his crew would be doing.
We started talking at the same time.
“They missed her fuel tanks,” he said, “or she would have blown.”
“The Control Car was intact,” I said.
“Her fins were fine,” he said, “I’m sure of that.”
“I didn’t see her engine cars—”
“They didn’t get hit. She’s got power, and helm.”
“They breeched the hull, but it didn’t look too bad.”
“Two or three gas cells torn,” Hal said, “no more.”
“You said she had plenty of compressed hydrium in reserve—”
“If they can patch her fast enough—”
“She was falling fast.”
“Dorje put her into a dive,” Hal said. “To get away from their cannons.” He did not sound entirely certain, and I hoped he was right.
We stopped and watched the other ship as it sailed for us. Those wretches would not have an easy time docking: the wind was brisk, and the
Hyperion
lively in the wind.
Kate was still crying, gasping in the thin air. I wanted to calm her. I took her shoulders and leaned my hooded head against hers. “They may be all right,” I said.
“How did they find us?” Kate asked.
“They knew exactly where we were,” Hal said grimly.
He was staring hard at Nadira, the muscles of his jaws rippling dangerously. “Secretiveness: ten,” he said.
Nadira just shook her head, breathing hard, mute.
“Hal,” I said.
“She’s been one of them all along, you idiot! She led them to us.” He seized Nadira by the shoulder and shook her. “Did you raise them on the
Saga
’s wireless while we all slept? Give them our coordinates?”
I was worried he might strike her, so I stepped between them.
“Nadira,” I said, “it’s not true, is it?”
I was not proud of doubting her, but I couldn’t help it. I stared her straight in the eyes, and was glad of the anger and defiance I saw there.
“No,” she said, and then glared at Hal. “No!”
“Then how did they find us!” he demanded.
“Hal,” I said, “they’ve got expensive toys aboard, you said so yourself. They might even have an echolocator. Even after we killed their homing beacon, they could have found us if the range was good. Or they could have come upon us by sheer luck.”
Hal stared at Nadira, his nostrils flaring and contracting. “I’m watching you,” he said.
Nadira turned away in disgust. “The thin air’s starving your brain,” she muttered.
“They’ll be aboard soon,” I reminded them. “We have an hour, no more. We should try to raise the
Saga
on the wireless.”
Some of the anger leeched out of Hal’s face. “There’s no power,” he said.
“We’ve got one torch. We might be able to use the batteries.”
He nodded. “Good. Let’s do it then.”
We were exhausted and half frozen, but we moved as swiftly as we could. We reached the keel catwalk, then climbed down the ladder to the Control Car. I hadn’t even noticed the wireless gear on our first visit, and I was dismayed by what I saw now. It should have occurred to me sooner: the equipment was forty years old. The radio was little more than a transmitter and spark key for telegraphing messages.
“This is a dead loss,” said Hal. “You can’t even talk over it.”
“I know Morse code, remember?” I told him. “It’s one of the useless things they teach at the Academy.”
Hal snorted. Nadira started fumbling the dry cells out of her torch. I found the telegraph’s ancient battery, and with my numb hands pulled the wires loose. I showed Nadira how to hold them to the torch batteries.
There was a bright flicker from the tuning dial, and a crackle of static from the headphones. After forty years it still worked.
“Whenever the crew’s separated, Dorje and I have an emergency frequency,” Hal said, turning the dial for me. “No one else uses it.”
I put the headphones over my ears. How long the batteries would last I didn’t know. Not long probably. I hoped the antenna was still intact below the Control Car. The spark key was near frozen, and I tapped at it to loosen it up.
Nearby was a pad of frosty paper and a pencil, which I pulled towards me. I was nervous and wanted to write my
message out first so I’d make no mistake while coding it. Once done, I started tapping.
Saga
. Cruse here. Reply.
I was sure I muddled a few letters, but hoped the message would be understandable. Could they hear it in the Control Car? Was Dorje even there? If he wasn’t, surely someone would fetch him. But likely it was all chaos aboard ship, and maybe everyone was patching madly, trying to stave off a crash.
I sent the message a second time, then a third.
Only static played against my ears.
“Save the battery,” I said. “There’s no reply.”
“They’ve got their hands full, I reckon,” said Hal.
“We can try again later.”
He nodded, and for a moment no one said anything, because we were all thinking the worst.
From overhead came the dull drone of engines, as Rath’s ship tried to lock on.
“They’ll be aboard soon,” Hal said.
“They won’t know we’re here,” said Nadira. “They’ll think we were on the
Sagarmatha
. That’s good for us.”
“Except we’ve left all our things in the engineerium,” I said. “They’ll go and find our gear, and the lights and heat on, and everything cozy—we may as well bang a gong and offer a hot meal.”
“They go in there,” said Hal, “and that aerozoan might finish them off for us.”
“We need to get our things back,” I said. “We need the oxygen.”
I hadn’t wanted to say it, but there seemed no time now for delicacy. Kate was struggling, but it was Nadira I was most worried about. Her breathing was fast and shallow, and she was coughing more and more. Unless she had some oxygen, she’d get even worse. And if the
Hyperion
continued to rise, we would all need tanked air before long.
“I don’t fancy getting electrocuted,” Hal said.
“Look, if Rath figures out we’re here, he’ll come looking. We won’t have a chance. And there are the blueprints,” I said, sensing that Hal needed a lot of convincing. “They’re in the engineerium. We go in, grab our stuff, grab the blueprints, and get out. Then find somewhere to hide until the
Saga
comes back for us.”
The plan sounded good until the last bit. Even if the
Saga
weren’t mortally wounded, how could she retrieve us if a pirate gunship lay in wait for her?
“I’d certainly like my gloves back,” said Kate.
“How many bullets do you have?” I asked Hal.
“Four. This is madness.”
“We’ll open the door. You’ll shoot the aerozoan. We’ll get our things, and then wait it out.”
“The bow,” said Hal. “They’d never look up there, there’s no point.”
From overhead came the blunt sounds of coupling arms trying to grab hold of the
Hyperion
’s frame.
“We’ve got half an hour or less,” Hal said. “Let’s go.”
The distance to the engineerium was not great, but it seemed like a trek across Antarctica. Every few steps, we’d
stop and catch our breath. I kept my eye on Kate and Nadira. Aboard the Flotsam I had seen what high altitude could do to seasoned airshipmen: their minds strayed, their judgment failed, and they blacked out with scarcely a second’s warning. Hal was trying to hide his discomfort, but he looked grey. I wondered how I looked; I certainly felt pinched and parched. A ragtime tune started playing in my head, over and over, and I let its peppy rhythm guide my footsteps.
The door was before us. Hal gripped his gun. I hoped his aim would be true, for doubtless his hands were numb. With difficulty Nadira turned the key in the lock. The door slid open. We all stood back and sighed as the room’s heat washed over us.
Hal and I peered around the doorframe. I was hoping to see the aerozoan dangling in the centre of the room. I wanted an easy shot for Hal. But I saw nothing. I wasn’t so worried about the hatchlings; I figured they were too small to give much of a shock.
Behind the walls of the vivarium were the other two aerozoans, thrashing about. That was good. We just had the one loose. Where—that was the question. I grabbed a loose hunk of ice from the catwalk and tossed it deep into the room. It made a lot of noise as it clattered along the ground, but nothing moved.
I saw our rucksacks and oxygen tanks.
“I could run in and grab it all,” Hal whispered.
“No,” I said, shocked at his recklessness. “We should stick to the walls, stay away from all the chains and ropes.”
They worried me, for it was hard to tell them apart from the tentacles. One gentle brush, and we’d be finished.
“There it is,” said Nadira, pointing.
She was right. The aerozoan was way over by the vivarium, bobbing up against the ceiling. Its apron rippled hypnotically.
“They don’t have eyes, do they?” I asked Kate.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “But not like our eyes. If they’re anything like jellyfish, they have very simple eyespots on the tips of their tentacles.”
“How much can they see?”
“Probably just light and darkness.”
“Can they hear us?” Hal asked.
“Jellyfish can pick up vibrations. They rely on their tentacles to taste and smell as well.”
“So if we move slowly,” Nadira said, “it might not notice us.”
“You and Nadira turn off Grunel’s machine,” Hal told me, “and find the message tubes. Kate and I will grab all the gear.”
“Slowly,” I said, and started in, keeping my back to the wall. The others followed. We kept our eyes glued to the aerozoan. It didn’t move. I hoped Kate was right, that it didn’t even know we were there. As we worked our way around the room, the aerozoan was almost completely hidden around the far corner of the vivarium. I could just see the very top of its squid-shaped balloon sack, rustling near the ceiling.
We crouched behind Grunel’s enormous coffin. We were as close as we were going to get to our oxygen tanks and rucksacks. Kate and Hal ran to pick up the gear; Nadira and I headed for Grunel’s generator.