Leviathan

TWENTY-FOUR

Once over the spine Deryn could see the wreck much better.

Men and beasts were everywhere on this flank, four searchlights stretching their shadows to monstrous proportions. The main gondola lay at an angle, half hanging from the harness, half resting in the snow. She scrambled down the ratlines and hit the ground running.

Inside the gondola the decks and bulkheads leaned to starboard, a fun house full of overturned furniture. With the scent of hydrogen everywhere, the oil lamps had been extinguished, leaving the chaos lit with the sickly green of glowworms. Men jostled in the slanting corridors, filling the air with curses and shouted orders.

Deryn dodged and weaved among them, hoping for a glimpse of Newkirk or Mr. Rigby. They’d been dangling from this side of the ship, which had rolled skyward, so they couldn’t have been crushed… .

But the bosun had looked badly wounded. What if he’d been dead before the airship had hit the snow?

Deryn swallowed the thought and kept running. Checking on the boffin was her first responsibility, a duty she was already late for.

She skidded to a halt outside the machine room and flung open the door. The place was a shambles. Boxes of parts had gone tumbling in the crash, leaving the floor covered with metal bits and pieces. They glimmered with the light of a wormlamp hanging aslant from the ceiling.

“Ah, Mr. Sharp,” came a voice. “At last you appear.”

Deryn sighed—half with relief, half with remembering how tiresome Dr. Barlow could be. She was in a corner of the room, bent over her mysterious box of cargo.

Tazza bounded from the shadows and up to Deryn, bouncing happily on his hind legs. She scratched the beastie’s ears.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, ma’am.” Deryn indicated the blood-caked collar of her flight suit. “Had a bit of an accident.”

“We all had an accident, Mr. Sharp. I should think that was obvious. Now could you please lend me a hand?”

Deryn held up the satchels. “Sorry, ma’am, but I’m here to ask you—”

“Time is of the essence, Mr. Sharp. I’m afraid your business can wait.”

Deryn started to argue, then realized that the top of the cargo box had been pried off. Heat rose from the insides, a few wisps of steam ghosting the freezing air. Straw packing was strewn everywhere—the secret purpose of the trip to Constantinople at last revealed.

“Well, I suppose so,” Deryn said. She made her way across the slanted floor, careful not to slip on the hay and rolly bits of metal. Tazza bounced along beside her like he’d been born on the side of a hill.

It took a moment to see into the box’s shadows. But as her eyes adjusted, twelve rounded shapes resolved in the soft glow of the wormlamp.

“Ma’am … are those eggs?”

“Indeed they are, and quite close to hatching.” Dr. Barlow scratched Tazza’s head and let out a sigh. “Or at least, they were. Most are broken. This wasn’t the smooth ride you promised me, Mr. Sharp.”

Deryn looked closer, and saw cracks running across the shells, a yellowish liquid seeping out. “I reckon it wasn’t. But what are they the eggs of?”

“Despite our grim situation, that remains a military secret.” Dr. Barlow gestured to the four eggs closest to her. “These seem to be alive, Mr. Sharp. And if they’re to stay that way, we’ll have to keep them warm.”

Deryn raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to sit on them, ma’am?”

“A delightful image, but no.” Dr. Barlow pushed both hands into the straw and withdrew two small jars that shone with a rosy light. They looked like the bottles of phosphorescent algae that the middies dropped for altitude checks.

Dr. Barlow gave the jars a shake, and the glow grew stronger, steam rising in the cold air. She tucked them back into the hay.

“The electrical heater was broken in the crash, but these bacterial warmers should keep the eggs alive for now. The trick is keeping the temperature exactly right, which won’t be easy.” She pointed at a mess in one corner of the box—red shivery droplets amid shattered glass. “You’ll have to clean up the remains of that thermometer, by the way. Be careful of the mercury; it’s quite poisonous.”

“Could you use a new one, ma’am?” Deryn dug into one of the satchels Alek had given her. “I happen to have a few with me.”

“You have thermometers with you?” The lady boffin blinked. “How very useful of you, Mr. Sharp.”

“Glad to be of service, ma’am.” Deryn handed one over, then opened another of the satchels. “I’ve got two more, I think.”

When Deryn looked up, Dr. Barlow was still staring at the thermometer.

“Does the Air Service generally use Clanker equipment, Mr. Sharp?”

Deryn’s eyes widened. Was the lady boffin a barking mind reader now?

“But how did you …”

“Again you underestimate my eye for detail.” She handed back the thermometer. Deryn took it and stared at both sides. It seemed normal enough to her.

“Note the red line at 36.8 degrees,” Dr. Barlow said. “Body temperature in Celsius. And yet in all my interactions with the armed forces they have never used the metric system.”

Deryn cleared her throat. “Well, we’re not Clankers, are we?”

“Or scientists.” Dr. Barlow plucked the thermometer from Deryn’s fingers. “So why isn’t this red line at 98.6? You don’t seem like a Clanker spy, Mr. Sharp, unless you’re a particularly incompetent one.”

Deryn tried not to roll her eyes. “I was going to tell you, ma’am, but you wouldn’t let me. There was this strange boy … out in the snow. That’s where I got these kits.”

“A boy? And I suppose he just walked up out of nowhere, bearing thermometers.”

“Aye, more or less. When I woke up after the crash, he was standing there.”

“I find this story difficult to believe, Mr. Sharp.” Dr. Barlow placed a cool palm against Deryn’s bruised eye. “Took quite a bump to your head, didn’t you?”

“It’s not my head, ma’am. It’s this whole mountaintop that’s dizzy. A boy just came out of nowhere! His name was Alek.”

Dr. Barlow shared a dubious look with Tazza. “Mr. Sharp, we both know you’re not above a bit of fibbing.”

Deryn gaped at the boffin, black affronted. “I may have misled the Service about my … particulars when I joined up, but that doesn’t mean I’d go telling lies for no good reason!”

“Well, if you are telling the truth, then this ‘Alek’ is possibly quite interesting.” Dr. Barlow took the thermometer back again, then gave it a shake and slipped it into the hay. “Did he say where he lives?”

“Not really.” Deryn frowned, trying to remember Alek’s exact words. “He mentioned a village at first, but mostly talked about his family. I reckon they’re outlaws—or maybe spies. He looked nervous the whole time, as bouncy as Tazza here. Then he pulled a pistol on me, and was about to blow us all to pieces! But I wrestled it away from him.”

“How fortunate,” Dr. Barlow said distractedly, as if she routinely was saved from a fiery death. She reached for one of the satchels and arranged its contents on the slanted floor. “Field dressings, a tourniquet—no, Tazza, these aren’t for sniffing—even a scalpel.”

“A bit fancy for some wee village on a mountaintop,” Deryn said. “Don’t you think?”

Dr. Barlow lifted a box, squinting at its label. “And this is marked with a double-headed eagle—Austrian military issue.”

Deryn’s eyes widened. “We’re not too far from Austria, ma’am. But Switzerland’s meant to be neutral!”

“Technically, Mr. Sharp, we are in violation of that neutrality.” Dr. Barlow turned the scalpel in her hand, and its blade flashed. “This is an alarming development. But I trust we’ll be taking off soon?”

“I doubt it, ma’am. The ship’s a barking mess.”

“But surely we can depart once the skin is patched, and make our repairs somewhere warmer? My eggs won’t last long in this cold.”

Deryn started to say that she wasn’t certain, having mostly been unconscious since the crash. But Dr. Barlow didn’t look in the mood for blether. And from what Deryn had seen climbing over the wreck, the answer was obvious.

“Not for a few days, ma’am. We’ve lost half our hydrogen, at least.”

“I see,” the lady boffin said, sinking down against the side of the cargo box. She pulled Tazza closer, her face pale in the green light of the wormlamp. “Then I’m afraid we may not be leaving at all.”

“Don’t be daft, ma’am.” Deryn remembered the way Mr. Rigby always put it. “This ship isn’t some dead Clanker mechanism. It’s a living creature. It can make all the hydrogen it wants. I’m more worried about the engines.”

“I’m afraid it’s not so simple, Mr. Sharp.” Dr. Barlow gestured across the slanted room to the porthole. “Have you looked outside?”

“Aye, I’ve been out there half the night!” Deryn remembered the word the strange boy had used. “It’s what they call a glacier, ma’am.”

“I’m familiar with the concept,” Dr. Barlow said. “A great sheet of ice, as dead as the poles themselves. How high in the mountains do you suppose we are?”

“Well, the Clankers hit us at eight thousand feet. And maybe we dropped a thousand or two before we hit the snow …”

“Well above the tree line,” Dr. Barlow said softly. “My grandfather’s bees won’t be finding much nectar out there, will they?”

Deryn frowned. She hadn’t seen a single living creature out on the snowy waste. Which meant no flowers for the bees, no insects for the bats.

“But what about the hawks and the other raptors, ma’am? They can fly a barking long way to hunt.”

Dr. Barlow nodded. “They might find prey in a nearby valley. But the Leviathan needs more than a few mice and hares to heal herself. This place is a biological wasteland, empty of everything she needs to survive.”

Deryn wanted to argue, but the ship had to eat to get healthy, just like any natural creature. And there wasn’t a scrap of food out on that bleak expanse of snow.

“You mean there’s nothing we can do?”

“I did not say that, Mr. Sharp.” Dr. Barlow stood up, pointing at a pile of jars on the slanted floor. “First we shall get these eggs to the proper temperature. Give those warmers a shake.”

“Right, ma’am!”

“And then I want to meet this mysterious boy of yours.”