Clockwork Scoundrels 1 by Pierce E.W

Author:Pierce, E.W. [Pierce, E.W.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2015-07-08T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 7

Diplomacy

Hindral was able to save Sildrian by pumping his stomach with his drunk kit, an odd assortment of pumps, gears, and hoses with a clear ‘collection’ bin. He usually only employed the kit when a deckhand ingested too much alcohol on leave, but he happily reported that it’d worked in this case and the clockwork man was awake but ‘rather foul-tempered’.

According to Hindral’s breathless report, Sildrian could eat and drink and dispose of waste, but something in Crumble strongly disagreed with his anatomy, somehow undoing the magic of his existence, if one believed in such things. Mel wished she’d not used her entire store in the single dose, but tucked away the knowledge for future reference. Their guests didn’t know she’d used it all.

Sildrian and Jarvis remained in her chambers, though not of their own accord. With both Sam and Hindral keeping an eye on them, Mel’s room had become a holding cell. A temporary holding cell, just long enough for her to chart a path through this storm.

Mel and Taul slept in shifts, curling up in the command cabin’s chairs. It was a fitful rest, the daylight peeking through her closed eyelids, but it was the best she was likely to see for some time.

They flew on a westerly heading, diverting south or north where there were gaps in the cloud cover. And then, abruptly, the clouds ended. Blue sky, clear and wide as forever, all the way to the Fog’s storm cloud border. Hundreds of feet below, a pair of Stensue cruisers drifted in loose formation.

Mel studied that expanse of sky, chewing her lip. They could circle back, stick with the clouds, but that would put them closer to the nest of Stensue ships. And what if the clouds continued drifting apart? Better to take their chances here on the fringe. Slip behind them and run, and hope they weren’t seen. Hardly foolproof, but she’d made do with much less before.

She exchanged nods with Taul and punched the throttle’s brass knob forward. The Misty Morning rattled, lurching alarmingly. “Turbulence,” Mel said with more reassurance then she felt.

Taul half-turned in his chair to watch out the rear windows. "Crown, there must be hundreds of them. All looking for us."

“Not for us.”

“What do you suppose they want with him?”

She didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. There could only be one reason why Stensue was so anxious to retrieve the clockwork man. He’s a weapon.

Taul stiffened. “They’ve scrambled interceptors. Closing fast.”

Mel goosed the throttle, burying the needle into the red. Tremors raced up her limbs, coalescing into a mass of energy someplace in her gut. "Better get everyone strapped in." Her palms felt slippery on the controls.

Taul issued the order over the brass horn. She could barely hear him over all the rattling.

It was the altitude, of course. Chief Wrench Kile had been right about the danger of taking the ship up into the clouds, but it’d been their best option at the time. She gripped the control yolk with both hands, trying to slow its erratic dance, silently willing the ship’s vibrations to still.

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