“Aye, Cap.” That was Tisker’s voice on the other end now. He relayed her orders to Dug somewhere out of range of the mouthpiece. Talis felt the feed of her line slow.
Thick as the trash was gathered, she could still see through it in spots. Dark beyond, with pinpricks of light, before the garbage would shift and close the view off again.
There. The bow of an airship. The familiar pointed shape jutted up from the mass around it, its aft sinking into the accumulated garbage. The hull’s dark green paint looked faded under a velvet coat of ice. But her name had been painted in white, nice and stark against the dark background. Talis held her breath, and after a moment the glass sphere of her helmet cleared enough to make out M-P-R-E-S-S above the shape of an old sofa that had cozied up against the hull.
“Spotted it. The Emerald Empress.” She pointed a finger, in case any of them had a scope on her.
“How much line do you need?”
Talis sighed, and the glass fogged again. She spared herself a small curse.
“Afraid it’s more complicated. The wreck’s ahead of us. We came in a little late, looks like. You’ll need to reposition Wind Sabre.”
“Wanna come back up? I just put some coffee on.”
She could barely feel her fingers. Of course she wanted to go back up.
“No, just keep it steady as you can, please.”
“Aye, Cap.”
“And Tisker?”
“Aye, Cap?”
“Make sure you save me a cup.”
She could just about hear his grin as he signed off the horn and returned to the helm. If the ship’s engines could run on coffee it would nicely complete the crew’s dependence on the brewed beverage. Some of her strictest policies were on the matter of proper coffee etiquette. Topping the list: If you take the last of it before the glow pumpkins were full-on orange, you’d better be damned sure there was another pot put on to brew with haste.
The descent line tugged her sideways as Wind Sabre began to move. She leaned back to watch her ship, and to move her neck against the crick that was settling in above her shoulder. The enormous pumpkins above, cultivated on stations spaced out across Horizon, glowed the deep purple of night. The auras around the pumpkins shifted softly as their gaseous bodies bobbed on the vines, their light reflected off swirls of mica hanging in motes around the stations’ cliffs. Though not as bright as the golden candescence of their day cycle, it was still enough to highlight the edges of nearby islands. And the edges of her airship’s contours.
Gliding in gentle loops through the shimmering motes, mantas fed off the duskfey that flitted in sparse clouds around the islands’ edges. Against the shadow of the island, their bodies imitated the purple glow. Against the brighter shape of the pumpkins, they were a barely visible flock of shadows darting after mites that nibbled the delicate flesh of the vines and fruit. Innocent activity, no danger to her ship, but every movement in her periphery looped another knot of worry in her chest.
“Skies still clear up there?” she asked, not for the first time.
Dug’s voice came back, “Yes, Captain. Sophie is on watch. No ships moving in the area, Imperial or otherwise.”
Talis watched the slender shape of Wind Sabre emerge from beneath the shadow of her hiding spot. The faded canvas of the ship’s lift envelope, stretched over the light framing ribs beneath, was black, as were its numerous patches. The smooth carrack hull was stained black. Shutters closed over the glass expanses of the great cabin and even the ventral observation deck to avoid reflecting light from any angle and all shipboard lanterns were doused. An observer looking from the Horizon altitude might only see a slight shadow pass against the glitter of flotsam below. But from where Talis hung, their ship stood out from the skies, conspicuous against the aquamarine and lavender pre-dawn light and the field of unmoving islands. Their forward and pectoral sails were furled tightly, and the only propulsion came from a pair of steel-sheathed turbines mounted to either side of the rudder. Talis caught herself holding her breath again, certain that if she could hear the hiss of the ship’s steam and the hot breath of her engines, someone else would, too. But the only sound in her suit was the creak of its leather as she craned her head and adjusted her grip on the line. Wind Sabre was mute at this distance.
As Tisker navigated around the islands above, the impetus traveled down the line and caused Talis to spin slightly. She turned her attention back to The Emerald Empress. Kept her eyes on it.
“How is our course?” Dug again.
“Catching up nicely. Move a point or two anti-Nexus and I should get my toe on it in a minute.”
“Captain.”
Talis felt the course correction and saw her angle was good.
“Speed on the wreck’s less than a half degree. Slow us down to match…” Her toe touched the railing. “Now.”
Delay from message to action was just right. Her movement synchronized with the dextral spin of the flotsam layer as she lowered the last meter to settle on the derelict galleon’s forward section. She unclipped the pin in her lead line.
“Okay, good speed. I’m moving.”
“Be safe, Captain.”
“Aye, Dug. Talk to you in a bit.” She unclipped the voice tube from her helmet and hopped down from the descent line.
Her boot slipped in the frost, and she grabbed for the railing. If she landed on her backside, the deck’s steep angle would send her sliding into the flotsam that covered the aft end of the ship. She detached the grapple from her tool belt, fixed it to her lead, and hooked it around a decking brace. A couple hard tugs, and it stayed attached. She was thankful for the thinner gloves as she fed out her line slowly.
Half-walking, half-sliding, she let herself down to the deck hatch that would lead
