Skyjackers: Episode 1: A Proper Nuisance (Skyjackers: Season One) (4 page)

“Please,” Jonathan said. “Don’t do this.”

“Are you afraid of death, Captain Thorpe?”

Jonathan steeled himself with a sigh. “I’ll admit I never
thought I was due for it so soon.”

“You really are no fun at all,” she said. “You should be
soiling your britches right about now.”

“One step ahead of you.”

Vivian wrinkled her nose and stifled a laugh. She didn’t
intend to kill him, of course. She was only following her father’s example: a
bit of ruthless intimidation before she let him go. So far, the tactic had
worked passing well on every constable and sky marshal who’d proved
unresponsive to lesser tactics. The offering of bribes and the promise of
future harm were effective in silencing most people. Captain Thorpe was a
special case, so it seemed bolder measures were required.

Vivian tossed a pair of pillows down behind Jonathan’s chair.
Then, placing her boot against his chest, she said, “It’s been ghastly to meet
your acquaintance, Captain Thorpe. Happy sailing.” With that, she gave him a
shove.

The chair rocked up on its rear legs. Despite Vivian’s
advice, Jonathan let out a high-pitched squawk, like a seagull in a shark
attack. He was still screaming when he crashed into goose-down softness. The
blindfold came loose, and he took stock of his surroundings.

Vivian laughed at him for a moment. “There. That wasn’t so
bad, was it?”

“Wha… what? What did you do?”

“I’ve sent you on a short trip. The next one will be longer.
And I can promise you, you won’t enjoy the landing. Remember that, Captain
Thorpe. For your own sake, I hope I never have to.”

“Why are you following my ship?”

“For fun,” Vivian said.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your crew deserves a bit of a scare as well, don’t you
think? Mr. Buffner, swing round for a broadside.”

“No, please,” Jonathan said. “Don’t harm them. You can do all
you like with me. Just leave them out of this. They were only following my orders.”

“Swing round,” shouted Cork Buffner, a wild-haired man with
rings through his nose and ears.

The
Dawnhammer
drifted across the
Maelstrom
’s
stern. Vivian gave the command. Jonathan watched in horror as the cannons
thundered, wincing at the explosion and bracing himself against the damage to
his vessel and crew.

Nothing happened.

“There we are,” Vivian said. “A bit of empty cannonry to
bring the afternoon to a satisfactory end. That should do it. Mr. Buffner, if
you would be so kind as to harness Captain Thorpe and lower him to the ground…”

“Aye, Captain Caine.” Buffner and another man wound a length
of rope through Jonathan’s crotch and tied it off around his chest, then led
him to the railing.

“I suppose I’m really going over this time,” Jonathan said.

Buffner nudged him toward the edge. “Off you go.”

“But wait. What about my things?”

Buffner opened the gate in the railing and shoved him
through.

Jonathan’s stomach heaved as the ground came up to meet him.
The rope went taut, jerking him like a worm on a fishing line. The
Dawnhammer
was still moving fast, so when he hit the ground he had to run to keep up. They
toyed with him for a short while before letting him go. A second later, his
effects rained down around him.

He stood and watched the
Dawnhammer
rise into the
clouds until it was little more than a speck against the afternoon sunlight.
His men had abandoned him, and it seemed Vivian Caine was getting away with the
crown jewels. What Jonathan didn’t realize, of course, was that Vivian had
already sold them to Gil Hill and was making off with the profits.

Chapter 4

Lily and Poleax were running away together. Not
together
in the sense that they were romantically involved or anything so dubious as
that, but in the sense that Second-Cousin-Once-Removed Poleax was sympathetic
toward Lily’s plight and had offered to help her in any way he could. Since
hacking through jungle undergrowth with a machete to clear the way for a dozen
porters carrying luggage, food, and Lily’s menagerie of housecats was the most
imminent form of help Poleax could provide, he was now a tired, sweaty mess,
combed hair flopping off the side of his head like wilted lettuce.

Despondent and full of regret, Lily plopped herself down on a
fallen log and put her face in her hands. “Oh, Poleax. What have I done?”

Poleax stopped his hacking and turned around. “What do you
mean? This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

The porters, who were actually the crew of the
Swan’s
Sorrow
, stood patiently as the wooden chests and cat cages they were carrying
wore deep gouges into their backs and fingers.

“Oh, I just don’t know anymore,” Lily said. “I thought life
away from home would be so adventurous… but it’s really a slog, isn’t it? This
place is hotter and stickier than I would’ve imagined. I knew we should’ve
taken the ship.”

“Everyone would’ve seen us leaving. Or at least realized we
were gone much sooner.”

Lily’s bottom lip began to quiver. Tears welled in her eyes.
“It isn’t easy running away, is it?”

“Here, have a hanky,” said Poleax. The yellowed strip of
fabric he drew from his overcoat was damp in some places and crusty in others.

Lily held it like a dead mouse. She liked Poleax, but the
thought of having him to take care of her instead of Mum and Dad made her want
to cry all the more. She found what appeared to be a clean section of fabric
and dabbed at the corners of her eyes.

“We can head back if you like,” said Poleax.

She brightened. “Are you sure? It wouldn’t be too much
trouble?”

“We haven’t gone very far, you know. I can still see the roof
of the house through the trees there.”

Lily clapped her hands and hopped to her feet. “Oh yes,
let’s.”

Poleax raised a hand and signaled. “You heard the lady. Round
about.”

The porters sighed with relief as they turned back toward the
mansion.

***

Benedict and Junior were still in the mansion’s study,
hashing out the details of the family’s next crime spree. It was not going
well.

“Because horses can’t swim, that’s why,” Caine shouted. “You
know the old saying: you can lead a horse to water, but don’t let it sink? That
applies to this situation implicitly.”

Junior was confused. “Is that really how it goes?”

“The Marquis of Bixbury values his prized studs above all
else in the world. We’ll win a higher ransom for his stable than we would for
his wife and children. He’ll never see us coming, and he’ll pay dearly for it.”

“I don’t want them on the
Stratustarian
,” Junior said.
“Transporting a herd of horses on an airship strikes me as treacherous.”

“It isn’t a herd. It’s a small stable of purebred stallions.
They’ll be no trouble at all. Anyway, you haven’t a choice in the matter.”

“But they’ll… empty their bowels… everywhere.”

“Not unlike that misfit crew of yours on an average day.
You’ve got the biggest ship in the fleet for a reason, son. It holds the most
excrement.”

“What do horses eat, Father?”

“How should I know? Do I look like a peasant farmer to you?”

“Well, I’m going to find out and not give it to them.”

“Those animals had better survive, Junior. If you bring home
a stable of dead horses, every tiger in the jungle will be on us by teatime.”

“What are we going to feed these horses if the Marquis
doesn’t pay off right away?”

“We’ve plenty of bananas. I’m sure they’ll get on.”

Junior shrugged. He liked bananas. He didn’t see why horses
shouldn’t like them too.

Benedict heard a noise and perked his ear to listen. “What’s
that racket out of doors? Sounds like a ship’s coming in.”

Junior and his father left the study, hands to hilts, ready
for anything.

***

Jonathan, separated from his ship and abandoned by his
crew, figured his best bet was to hike to the closest village and ask for help.
He knocked on the first door he came to, a big crooked house that looked like
it might fall over at any moment. A bald man with a crown of gray hair and a
pair of magnifying lenses perched on his forehead opened the door. Gilbert Hill
was startled to see Jonathan, decked out in the red-and-tan uniform of a sky
marshal captain, and at first thought Vivian Caine had tricked him. He kept
calm, cocked his head inquiringly, and waited for Jonathan to speak.

“I apologize if I’m interrupting something,” Jonathan said,
eyeing the lenses. “Do you, by any chance, have a bluewave radio I could use to
make a call?”

“Come in.”

The floor sloped beneath Jonathan’s feet as Gilbert led him
through cramped rooms packed with antique furniture and dead houseplants. The
house smelled of old wood, and every surface Jonathan passed was layered in
dust. Hill pointed to the radio, which was sitting on a round pedestal table in
the parlor. He stood in the doorway with his arms clasped behind his back while
Jonathan sat down and dialed.

“Hello. Yes, Harlow? Harlow, it’s Jon—Captain Thorpe. Where
in the blue blazes are you? Oh. He did, did he? Is that right? Well, tell him
I’m in—” He put a hand over the receiver and asked Gilbert, “What town is
this?”

“Dower.”

“I’m in Dower. I’m at the home of a nice gentleman who’s
allowed me to use his radio. Tell Manchester to come pick me up at once. I’ll
meet you in the town square. I don’t know. I’m assuming this town has a square.
What was that? Yes, I was there. It was very frightening. I know. Yes, I know.
We should. We’ll see, Harlow. Make sure Manchester gets my message. Thank you.”
Jonathan hung up.

“Was there anything else, officer?” Gilbert asked.

“No. Thank you. I apologize if I’ve put you out.”

Gilbert Hill said nothing.

Jonathan stood. “I’ll just see myself out, then.”

When Jonathan walked past him, Hill followed. He took a wrong
turn and ended up in a sitting room, across the back half of which was drawn a
heavy curtain. Something sparkled from within the cordoned area as it caught
the sun. Jonathan turned to find Gilbert eyeing him.

“Say, you wouldn’t happen to—”

“Wrong way, officer,” said Gilbert. “This way to the door.”

Suddenly, things began to register for Jonathan. “Now wait a
minute. What have you got back there? You’re a tradesman of some sort, aren’t
you?”

“I collect rocks,” Gilbert said. “And I’m very private about
my rock collection. I’ll warn you to step away from there, officer.”

Jonathan flung the curtain aside. There on Gilbert’s
workbench, spilling from a plain canvas sack, were the Finustrian crown jewels.
“What in the name of heaven—”

When Jonathan turned around, Gilbert Hill was pointing a
flintlock pistol at him.

“I did warn you.”

“What do you mean to do with that?” Jonathan asked.

“Whatever I have to, officer.”

Jonathan could see he was serious. “Now, we’ve no need to go
to extremes, my good man. And you don’t want to find yourself on the wrong end
of a murder charge that could’ve been avoided.”

“I paid good money for those,” Hill said. “They’re mine.”

“They belong to the Archduchess of Finustria,” Jonathan
corrected him. “Trafficking in stolen goods like these will get you in more
trouble than you could ever ask for. So I’ll make you an offer. Lower your
weapon and let me walk out of here with the jewels, and I’ll forget we ever
met. No charges.”

Hill tightened his grip. “How do I know that’s not a lie?”

“I don’t even know your name,” Jonathan said. “Nor do you
know mine, for that matter. We can part ways anonymously and forget this ever
happened.”

“You said your name on the radio earlier, Captain Thorpe,”
Hill pointed out.

“Ah, yes… but I still don’t know yours. If you kill me,
plenty of people will learn it.”

Hill thought for a moment, then lowered his weapon. “I spent
nearly everything I had on those jewels.”

Jonathan took a step toward them. When Hill didn’t object, he
scooped the jewels into the bag and picked it up. “You can be sure the Regency
would’ve confiscated that and more if you were found guilty. I have no say over
what you do from now on, but I would advise you to cut ties with the Caines and
any other such customers you may have. I’m working hard to bring the Caine
family to justice.”

Hill gave him a curious look. “You aren’t awfully familiar
with the Caines, are you?”

“Well enough to know they ought to be stopped.”

“Then I wish you all the luck in the world. I reckon you’ll
need every ounce of it.”

“Thank you.”

“Not a reassurance,” Hill muttered.

Jonathan glanced around. “Well… I’ll take my leave then. Good
day.”

“Door’s that way.”

“Yes. Right.”

As soon as Jonathan was gone, Gilbert Hill went to the parlor
and picked up the receiver on his bluewave radio.

***

Vivian returned to the Caine mansion to find a band of
pirates tromping home from the jungle. They were carrying bags, chests, and
small cages stuffed with familiar cats. Lily and Poleax emerged from the jungle
last, bringing up the rear of the column. Junior and Benedict came bursting
through a side door in the house and rushed out to meet them.

“What’s all this about?” Benedict asked.

Lily shuffled past the others and ran to her father’s arms,
sobbing incoherently.

Benedict was puzzled. “Have you broken my child, Poleax?
Explain yourself.”

Lily broke in before Poleax could respond. “He tried to make
me run away, Daddy.”

“Why I—I did nothing of the sort,” Poleax stammered.

“Yes you did. You said running away was the only thing to
do.”

“That was because you told me you didn’t want to be a
pirate.”

Benedict bristled. “I’ve never heard such a load of
balderdash in all my life. Have I not treated you as a friend, Poleax? Have I
not given you a prestigious command in my fleet?”

“You have, Ben. I was only trying to—”

“Then perhaps you ought to treat this family with a little
more respect. It’s one thing for you to shun my dinner invitations. Poisoning
my daughter against me is quite another. Come, Lily-Billy. Let’s take you
inside and get you all cleaned up.” Benedict turned to Lily’s crew. “As for you
lot, get this all back where it belongs. When you’ve done with that, swab the
Swan’s
Sorrow
to a spit-shine and await my further beratement.”

 Benedict took Lily inside while her crew grunted their loads
toward Mandrake Hollow, the massive canyon system where the Caines hid their
airships between voyages. Cork Buffner came to stand beside Vivian, laden with
the sack of gold chips from Mr. Hill.

Junior eyed the sack and raised an eyebrow. “Is that all you
got for the crown jewels?”

“This is quite a few chips, thank you very much.”

Junior waggled his head, unconvinced. He turned to Poleax,
who was still standing there, dumbfounded. “Say, Uncle. You busy tonight?”

“Well, I was going to—”

“Right. That settles it, then. Dad wants you to smuggle a
herd of stallions from Bixbury.”

“A what? From where?”

“Have the
Hummingbird
ready to lift off by sunset. I
dare say you can’t afford to disappoint him again.” Junior followed his father
and sister into the house.

Mr. Buffner grunted, shifting the sack in his hands. “Where
shall I set these down, Captain?”

Vivian gave a disgusted sigh. “Clearly Father doesn’t care.
Just dump them in the treasury.”