Behemoth

THIRTEEN

Alek waited in the machine room, wondering when the signal would come.

He loosened another button on his jacket. Dr. Barlow had made the room as hot as an oven tonight. She always seemed to add more heaters when Alek watched the eggs, just to annoy him.

At least he wouldn’t have to suffer much longer. He could already hear the distant rumble of glow plugs firing in the starboard pod. Klopp, Hoffman, and Bauer were up there, pretending to work on the engine. And being noisy about it, so no one would be surprised to see Alek heading up to help.

After the disastrous start of Dr. Barlow’s mission today, the escape plan had changed. Alek had watched the elephant-shaped walker’s hasty return, carrying no supplies, its side spattered with some sort of red dust. Rumors had spread through the ship that the walker had been attacked, an incident in which dozens of civilians had been injured.

Within an hour angry crowds had arrived at the airfield’s gate, threatening to attack the Leviathan. Guards were posted at all of the airship’s hatches now, and a ring of Ottoman soldiers surrounded the gondola. There would be no sneaking out through the cargo deck tonight.

From his station up in the engine pod, however, Klopp had reported that no one was guarding the mooring tower. It was connected to the airbeast’s head by a single cable that hung eighty meters in the air. If the five of them could climb across and down, perhaps they could escape across the darkened airfield.

Alek listened to the engine misfiring, waiting for the signal. Now that the captain considered him a prisoner of war, he was happy to leave the airship behind. He’d been a fool to let himself grow so attached. Volger was right—pretending that this flying abomination was his home had lead only to misery. Dylan might have been a good friend in some other world, but not this one.

There it was—five sharp coughs from the glow plugs. The signal meant that Bauer and Hoffman had subdued the Darwinist crewmen in the pod. Volger would be headed up from his stateroom.

They were really leaving. Tonight.

Alek adjusted the eggs one last time. He picked up a fresh heater and shook it to life, then tucked it into the hay. As hot as the machine room was, Dr. Barlow’s mysterious cargo would most likely be fine until dawn. In any case, it wasn’t his concern anymore.

Alek noticed an old smear of grease on the egg box and rubbed a finger across it. Then he drew a stripe across his cheeks, as if he’d been working up in the engine pod. If anyone saw him, they would assume that Dylan was down here with the eggs and that Alek was fetching parts for the engineers.

He stood and hefted his toolbox. It was stuffed with spare clothes and the wireless set from the Stormwalker. The set was heavy, but once he and his men were hidden in the wilds, radio might be their only means of contact with the outside world.

Alek sighed. Here aboard the Leviathan he’d almost forgotten how lonely it was to run and hide.

The door opened with a soft squeak, and he stared out into the hall, listening to the murmurs of the ship.

A small tapping noise reached his ears. Was someone headed this way?

He swore softly. It was probably Dylan, coming to talk one last time. Seeing the boy again would only make this harder, and Alek needed to start toward the engine pod.

But the noise was coming from behind him.…

He turned around—one of the eggs was moving.

In the rosy light of the heaters, he could see a tiny hole forming at the top of the egg. Little chips were breaking free and sliding down the smooth white surface. Fleck by fleck the hole grew larger.

Alek stood there, his hand on the doorknob. He should be heading up, leaving these godless creatures behind. But he’d spent seven long nights watching the eggs and wondering what would emerge from them. In another few moments he would finally see.

Alek pulled the door softly closed.

The odd thing was, it was the middle egg hatching—the one Dr. Barlow had said was sick.

Something was poking its way out of the hole now. It looked like a claw—or was it a paw? There was pale fur on it, not feathers.

A small black nose poked its way out, sniffing the air.

Alek wondered if the creature was dangerous. Of course, it was only a baby, and he had a rigging knife sheathed on his belt. But Alek stayed close to the door, just in case.

The beast emerged slowly, reaching out to grip the edge of the box with tiny four-fingered hands. Its fur was damp, and its huge eyes blinked in the glow of the heaters. It looked about attentively, twitching as it pulled itself farther from the broken egg.

God’s wounds, but the thing was homely. Its skin seemed too large for its body, drooping like an old man’s. It reminded Alek of his aunt’s hairless cat, bred for its bizarre looks.

The beast stared at him and made a soft, plaintive noise.

“You must be hungry,” Alek said softly. But he hadn’t the first idea what it ate.

At least it was clear enough that the creature didn’t eat humans. It was far too small for that, and too … appealing, even with its strange excess of skin. Somehow the large eyes seemed wise and sad. Alek found himself wanting to pick the animal up and comfort it.

The creature extended a tiny hand.

Alek put down the tool kit and took a step closer. When he reached out a hand, the animal touched his fingertips, squeezing them one by one. Then it leaned forward, letting itself slide from the edge of the egg box.

Alek caught it just in time. Even in the sweltering machine room, the creature’s body felt warm, its short fur as soft as the chinchilla coat his mother had always worn in winter. When Alek held it closer, the beast made a cooing noise.

The huge eyes blinked slowly, staring straight into his. Thin arms wrapped around Alek’s wrist.

It was strange, how the creature didn’t give him the same uneasy feeling as other Darwinist creations. It was too small and sleepy-looking, and gave off an air of preternatural calm.

The engine sputtered again, and Alek realized that he was behind schedule.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “but I have to go.”

He placed the creature back in the box amid the warm glow of the heaters. But as his hands pulled away, the animal made a high-pitched mewling noise.

“Shush,” Alek breathed softly. “Someone will be along soon.”

He wondered if that were true. Dylan would be here at dawn, but that was hours away.

He took a step backward, kneeling to pick up the tool kit. The creature’s eyes grew wider, and it let out another cry that ended in a high, sweeping note, as pure as a flute.

Alek frowned—that last sound was oddly like the whistles the crew used to command their beasts. And it was loud enough to wake someone up.

He reached out again, shushing the creature. The instant his hand touched it, the animal went silent.

Alek knelt there for a moment, stroking the soft fur. Finally the large eyes closed and Alek dared to pull away.

The beast instantly sprang awake and began to mewl again. Alek swore. This was absurd, being held hostage by this newborn. He turned away and crossed the room.

But as the door opened, the screams shifted into a burst of whistling noises. The glowworms in the machine room reacted, green light spilling from the walls. Alek imagined the whole airship waking up, message lizards scampering from all directions in response to the creature’s cries.

“Quiet!” he whispered, but the beast didn’t stop until he went back and picked it up again.

As Alek stood there stroking its pale fur, he came to a horrible realization.

To have any hope of escaping, he had to take the newborn animal with him. He could hardly leave it sitting here, bawling its tiny misshapen head off for the whole ship to hear.

He had no idea what to feed the creature or how to take care of it, or even what it was. And what would Count Volger say when he showed up with this abomination in his arms?

But Alek didn’t have much choice.

When he lifted the animal up from the hay, it scampered up his arm and clung to his shoulder like a cat, the tiny claws stuck fast in the wool of his mechanik’s suit.

It looked at him expectantly.

“We’re going for a walk now,” he said softly, hefting the tool kit again. “You’re going to stay quiet, right?”

The creature blinked at him, a look of smug satisfaction on its face.

Alek sighed, and went to the door. He opened it again, looking up and down the corridor. No one was coming to investigate the strange noises—not yet, anyway.

He loosened his jacket, ready to shove the creature inside if he encountered anyone. But for the moment the animal seemed happy on his shoulder—and quiet. It felt as light as a bird there, as if designed to travel this way.

Designed, Alek thought. This animal was fabricated, not born of nature. It had some purpose in the Darwinists’ plans, a role in Dr. Barlow’s schemes to keep the Ottomans out of the war.

And he had no idea what that purpose was.

Alek shuddered once, then strode into the darkened hall.