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Part 14: WILDE
Wilde groaned. Her head ached, as did most of the rest of her body, and she felt sticky and the roof of her mouth was dry.
She coughed and sat up, immediately groaning as her side protested. She looked about her – she was in an empty bunk room, long and cramped, and her leg had been bandaged. She felt around the bandage gingerly, flinching as she probed her tender knee, and lay back until the pain died away. She sat up again, feeling the absence of her grandfather.
She looked around again for her bag, and saw it across the room, kicked under another bunk. A bunk on which a boy lay, engrossed in a book. Wilde’s eyes widened; a navy cadet! Had she been picked up by a navy ship?
She threw off the covers and made to stand, but the movement caught his eye. He sat up and moved for a radio by his side.
Wilde yelled and launched herself at him.
‘She’s awake-’ was as far as he got before Wilde was on top of him. She yanked at his hair and raised a fist to punch him, when his flailing arms pushed against her side. She blanched and fell backwards, landing heavily on the floor, rolling onto her good side. She curled up facing away from him, unmoving.
‘Uh,’ the boy said. And then he reached for the radio again. ‘Captain, you’d better come quick!’ He got off the bed and leaned down next to her.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Are you okay? You were pretty badly hurt when you got here, you know.’ Wilde felt his hand on her shoulder and waved him away frantically. She tried to get to her feet, but something in her leg clicked and sent a spasm of pain through her; she fell heavily and began to crawl deeper into the room.
The door burst open. Wilde crawled faster, scrabbling across the floorboards; she felt nauseous and light-headed, and her body was on fire, but she wanted to be anywhere but here, anywhere but alive.
‘Leave her be.’ It was a quiet voice, one that felt half-familiar.
She turned, lying on her back to look at her captors. There was the woman she’d seen in the clearing, along with an older man, dressed in overalls, squat and solid and with greying hair. The navy boy looked up at the woman, questioning.
‘We’re not here to hurt you, girl,’ the woman said. She walked closer to Wilde, until Wilde once again tried backing away; it was only then that she sat down. ‘My name’s Maira, and you’re aboard the Fallen Star.’
Wilde’s brow creased. She raised herself up on her elbows.
‘You mean… the ship from all those stories?’ she asked. ‘Didn’t they make that up?’
Maira chuckled; behind her, the old man frowned.
‘Lucky for you, they didn’t,’ Maira said. ‘We crashed out in that storm – you looked like you’d walked through it when you appeared. What were you doing in the jungle?’
Wilde looked from Maira to the navy boy and back.
‘I live out here,’ she lied. ‘Always have.’
Maira regarded her with a level stare until Wilde couldn’t help but look away, colouring.
‘Alright,’ Maira said. ‘Well we’re still on the ground, will be for a couple days; we’ve got a lot to fix up before we’re airworthy again. But as soon as we are, we’re taking off. It’s up to you if you stay on board or leave.’
‘Are you navy?’ Wilde asked. Maira shook her head.
‘Free and independent!’ she said with a grin. ‘Although I can’t rule out taking on navy work, if it pays well.’
‘You guys… aren’t navy?’ Wilde stared incredulously at the boy in the naval uniform. Maira glanced back and laughed.
‘That’s Lance,’ she said. ‘He’s a cadet, but he got stranded at a waystation. He’s helping us until we can get him back to his ship.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ Lance piped up. Wilde glowered at him. Maira sighed.
‘Look, we’ve all got our grievances with the navy,’ she said. ‘But until we get you home – or somewhere safe, or whatever – you gotta swallow that shit down. We can’t afford to attract any attention from corpo boats while we’re flying, not without a full crew.’ She stood, offered Wilde a hand. Wilde took in gingerly, only for Maira to grab her wrist and tug her to her feet in one fluid motion; she wrapped Wilde’s left arm around her, letting the girl support herself against her.
‘We’ll take you to the galley,’ Maira said. ‘You could use a decent meal and a hot drink.’ She looked around at Lance and Ham. ‘Fuck it,’ she added. ‘We all could.’
Ham brought the bag back to the galley, and he and Lance set about cooking a meal while Maira sat with Wilde. She poured Wilde some hot chocolate while she took a tin mug of hot coffee and sat back, the bag in the table between them.
Wilde sat and drank the chocolate, staring sullenly at the woodwork.
‘You wanna tell me about the bag?’ Maira asked eventually. Wilde’s eyes flickered up – she looked curious, rather than angry, but the atmosphere felt tense. Wilde stayed quiet, sipping her drink.
‘Alright.’ Maira leaned forward. ‘We’ve looked in it – you’ve got some high-tech rifle and nearly a thousand fins in there, but only the money was hidden. I’m not sending you out into the jungle, not as bashed up as you are, but if you’re staying on my ship for any length of time I need to understand what I’m working with here.’
Wilde looked away, and Maira sighed and sat back.
‘It’s my grandfather’s,’ Wilde admitted eventually.
‘Your grandfather? He owns the gun?’ Maira sat up.
‘He made it.’ Wilde shot Maira a dark look.
‘...And does he know you have it?’ Maira asked. Wilde nodded, and she continued, ‘Do you need to return it to him?’ Wilde shook her head.
Maira rolled her eyes.
‘So it’s a gift?’ she asked, exasperated. ‘Your grandad gave you a high-powered concealable rifle as a gift?’
‘He left it to me!’ Wilde snapped. Maira shrank back, stunned.
‘...I see,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. What happened?’
‘He died. We were supposed to be going on holiday but there was a run on the bank and then we had to go to the docks, and that’s where the Umbrella Men got him.’
‘Umbrella Men?’
Wilde started. Ham was staring out at the two of them from the kitchen, his face drawn.
‘He didn’t do anything!’ Wilde shot back. ‘He was just an old man who liked making things. And after we picked this up the Umbrella Men tried to kill him. They did kill him.’
She stared at the table, the creeping exhaustion threatening to overtake her. It felt like years; had it really only been a day or two?
‘I’m sorry,’ Maira said quietly. ‘That must have been very hard for you. And then to get caught in the storm – how did you get from the docks to the jungle?’
‘I jumped. Aimed for a couple tall trees, hit some branches on the way down. It was that or go with the Umbrella Men.’
‘You could’ve killed yourself,’ Maira said. ‘Frankly, I’m astonished you made it this far. What was your plan?’
‘Didn’t have one. Just needed to get away from them.’
‘And then you walked,’ Maira said. ‘I’m sorry. Do you know where your grandfather was planning to take you? We might as well try to get you there.’
‘Twin Knee Camp. He said it was going to be a holiday.’
There was a beat. Then Maira thumped the table.
‘Fuck! Goddammit!’ She stood and paced. Wilde trembled as Maira kicked at the wall.
‘I’m sorry!’ Wilde quavered. Maira shook her head and sighed.
‘It’s not your fault,’ she said. ‘It’s mine. I’m sorry – do you know a Captain Benson?’ Wilde nodded.
‘He was a friend of grandfather’s. Always coming over, talking about mechanics – used to own an airship.’
‘This was supposed to be your ride.’ Maira’s shoulders drooped, she looked crestfallen. ‘We were a day late – but he told me ten days!’
‘We were going to leave next week,’ Wilde said. ‘But he moved it up. Something about the banks – they had no money.’
Maira dropped back into her chair and slumped back.
‘We would never have made it,’ she muttered to herself. She glanced at Wilde. ‘It’s not your fault,’ she said aloud. ‘And you did everything you could. Umbrella Men are bad news, and I’m honestly amazed you managed to get out of that situation. Well look, I’m supposed to take you to Twin Knee Camp anyway – you’ve got money enough to pay your way if you want, but if you’d rather be doing something you can work for your bed and board.’
Wilde stared at the bag. Then she opened it up and took out the pieces of the rifle. She carefully inspected each one.
‘I need to fix this,’ she muttered. ‘I’ll pay my way, but I need some tools too – I’ll need to hammer out some dents and fix the trigger mechanism... the scope’s probably busted until I can get a professional glass-cutter to look at it... and this thing only has four bullets left, so if it’s going to be any use I’ll need some metal and some gunpowder and probably somewhere with a drop tower or an armoury…’
She kept going, listing the problems and the things she’d need to fix. Maira leaned back from the informational barrage, until Wilde paused and looked up, colouring.
‘...And I’ll need somewhere quiet. I don’t like noise. Or crowds.’
‘Alright,’ Maira said. ‘Most of those I can’t help you with. But we’ll be making stops along the way to Twin Knee Camp; anything you need to pick up, we’ll try to find for you.’ She paused to look around, noting the distinct lean at which the galley sat, and kicked at the table half-heartedly.
‘Though we’re not going anywhere like this,’ she noted. ‘Let’s have some lunch; after that we can fix up the ship and get going.
The last issue to be fixed was the landing strut. One enormous axehead had splintered and bowed on landing, and they were going nowhere until they could safely land again.
‘The plan is simple,’ Maira said when they had assembled in the engine bay. ‘We’re going to inflate the bell slowly using a gas burner, until we’re just afloat; then we take some two-by-fours, some nails, and a bunch of rope, and we lash the whole thing together so it’s more-or-less straight.’
‘That’s it?’ Lance asked uncertainly. Maira nodded. ‘That doesn’t seem safe.’
‘It’s safe enough for the Navy,’ Maira replied. ‘Besides, we don’t have thirty men and tons of lumber belowdecks to make comprehensive repairs on the fly, so…’ She tailed off, and then shrugged.
Ham dragged the gas burner on top of the light engine and started it up. The flame flickered a quiet orange before turning to a roaring, almost invisible blue, and Wilde felt the deck beneath her shift as the ship creaked ponderously off the ground. She grabbed for a guardrail to steady herself, but just a moment later the ship settled, and Wilde found herself wondering if they were even airborne.
‘Perfect!’ Maira yelled. ‘Lance, you’re with me – we’re going to tie ourselves to the rail and fix up that axehead!’
Ham deftly worked the burner while Maira and Lance worked on fixing the spar. Wilde watched them from across the engine bay, her gaze shifting between the rhythmic work of Maira and Lance hammering at the beam, and the blue flame that speared into the air, sending a haze of heat rippling above it. She glanced up, looking up at the expansive space of the bell which seemed to ripple with the flame.
Something fluttered up there in the distance.
‘Hey!’ she called. ‘Hey!’ again, when Ham finally looked up from tending the burner. She motioned him over. He glanced aside at Maira, muttered something under his breath, and got unsteadily to his feet, massaging his knees.
‘Look miss,’ he said as he approached, ‘we’re a little busy at the moment; if you need some tools or something, I’ll have to help you after-’
‘Should that bit of the balloon be flapping like that?’
Ham started. He turned and craned his neck up, squinting into the half-light.
‘I don’t see anything,’ he said. Then, ‘wait… shit!’ He loped across the engine bay and turned off the burner.
‘Captain!’ he yelled. ‘All hands aboard! We’ve got a problem with the bell!’
Wilde looked back up, her eyes catching the tear in the fabric again. It had gotten a little larger already.
The ship drifted down, and Maira and Lance were aboard shortly before it settled. Ham pointed out the tear, and Maira took out a spyglass.
‘Damn! That looks like part of the quick-drop mechanism.’ She chewed at her lip as she stared up at it. ‘Well spotted, Ham.’
‘It wasn’t me, captain,’ he said. He gestured to Wilde.
Maira regarded her coolly.
‘Good eye, kid,’ she said. She turned back to Ham. ‘Maybe we can just patch it with some spare canvas?’
‘Captain?’ They turned. Lance had his hand up hesitantly.
‘Not for nothing,’ he continued, ‘in the navy they teach cadets sewing. If you can get me some thread, and maybe accompany me up on the bell, I can probably fix it in an hour or so.’
‘Alright.’ Maira marched towards the gangway, gesturing for Lance to follow. ‘Come on, daylight’s wasting!’
‘Why do you know how to sew?’ Wilde asked. Lance shrugged.
‘Mostly to keep our uniforms,’ he said. ‘But I think it’s so we can do things like this!’ He grinned and ran after the captain.
In short order the Fallen Star was fixed, in a roughshod manner, and it lurched into the sky accompanied by ominous creaks, clods of wet earth peeling from the hull and raining on the jungle floor below.