Page 51 of Storm to Victory
“Well, there’s part of the problem.” Fieran gestured to the gashes ripped in the outer skin. None of the slices were that long, but there was a whole series of them, as if an explosion had blown shrapnel through the side.
The outer skin acted like its own air balloon, warmed and pressurized when all the hatches were dogged closed. While it wasn’t as crucial as the inner balloons, every little bit of lift made a difference.
Since the catwalk ran close to the side, Pip reached out and touched one of the tears. “We wouldn’t have noticed in the chaos of the hijacking. Nor could your dacha and uncle Edmund have seen them in the dark when they did their sweep looking for any enemy sailors left up here.”
Nor had she noticed either Fieran or his dacha disappearing to exercise on top of the airship. All of them had been far too busy, and when either of them had exercised, they’d run and leapt on the catwalks surrounding the gondola where they could be fetched easily if needed.
“At least there shouldn’t be too much risk of blowing up from hydrogen.” Fieran also poked at one of the holes. “It should have mostly vented out the rips.”
“Still, it’s a concern.” Pip positioned herself beside one of the rips then turned toward the inside, squinting as she tried to follow the possible trajectory of the shrapnel.
The balloon directly in front of her appeared somewhat more spongy than it should. And the thick canvas was peppered with blackened spots that were probably holes. The balloons on either side and below, too, looked like they might have been damaged.
Fieran leaned against one of the metal ribs next to her, his mouth pressed into a line. “That’s a lot of holes to patch.”
Pip could only nod as she took it in. “Do you have any idea how one goes about patching airship inner balloons?”
“Nope. Not a clue.”
Fieran grippedthe end of the rope, bracing himself against the rails of the catwalk, as he held Pip suspended in the air above one of the air balloons. She was spreading the waxy substance over the tear she’d sewn shut.
After some searching, they’d found the maintenance closest where thick thread, needles, jars of a waxy goo, safety harnesses, and rope had been stored. Even better, there had been a training manual tucked onto a shelf, which included instructions on patching air balloons.
The two of them had sewn and patched the rips they could reach from the catwalks. But when it came to the ones where someone needed to be harnessed up, it made more sense for Pip to be the one dangling in the air. While she probably could hold Fieran, if properly rigged and secured, it was safer this way.
“And...that should do it.” Pip wiped her greasy hand on a rag she had tucked into a pocket.
As Fieran began lowering her back to the catwalk, the airship gave a shudder, slowing enough that Pip swayed on the end of the rope with the change in speed.
Pip’s feet landed on the catwalk. “We’re slowing.”
“Yeah. We’d better get back to the pilot house.” Fieran took the jar of wax and other patching items from her. He glanced around before setting them down on the edge of the catwalk with a shrug. There was no reason to take the time to put stuff away now.
Pip wiggled out of the harness and dropped it to the catwalk, kicking it aside.
The two of them hurried back through the maze of catwalks and ladders and dropped through the hatch into the gondola.
Fieran glanced through the windows as they hurried down the corridor. Halfway to the pilot house, he halted so abruptly that Pip ran into his back. He pointed at the porthole. “Look.”
The dark shape of an airship was gliding into view, coming from ahead of them.
“We’d better hurry.” Pip gave him a light shove against his back.
Fieran broke into a jog. He took the time to duck into his room and grabbed his swords from where they lay on his bunk. Swords would do little good against airships, but he felt better as the weight of the sheaths settled across his shoulders. Still buckling the straps, he burst into the pilot house.
Dacha was at the wheel, his knuckles white, his swords strapped across his back as well. Uncle Edmund wasn’t in sight, but his muttering could be heard coming from the radio room just off the pilot house, along with a rhythmic beeping and tapping sound.
The wide windows provided a panoramic view of the clear blue sky around them and the three Mongavarian airships facing them. One remained directly ahead of them while the other two were slowly positioning themselves to either side. All three had metal boxes and wires dangling from the undersides.
“I can take the wheel.” Fieran skidded to a halt next to Dacha, gripping the wheel even before Dacha had fully let it go.
“Your uncle claims he has the code needed to safely pass them.” Dacha paced a few feet away to the levers set in the floor that controlled the airship’s ascent and descent. “The air balloons?”
“Patched as best we could, but we didn’t have time to find the compressed air canisters to refill them.” Fieran flexed his fingers on the wheel, his heart pounding harder in his chest. While he trusted Uncle Edmund and his information, he wasn’t all that comfortable staring down the guns of three enemy airships. No matter that they would think they were looking at one of their own.
If something went wrong, would Fieran and Dacha dare fight back? Could the two of them take out three machines before they were too drained of magic?
Pip halted at the station at the rear of the pilot house beside the engine controls, and she was currently checking all the dials. Her fingers trembled slightly as she adjusted one of the levers.
