The Doomsday Vault

gliders. Bodies lay everywhere-some still living; some dead. And less than forty yards away loomed the bulging blue shape of the Welsh airship. Gavin could hear her propeller engines buzzing over the sounds of combat around him. His arms were growing tired, and he was panting now. He swung at the pirate in front of him. The man laughed and ducked.

“You’re a fine, pretty lad,” the pirate shouted in a Welsh accent. “I’ll teach you some tricks with my blade.”

There was a heavy thud, and a crash shook the Juniper. Everyone stopped fighting for a moment. The pirate ship had fired an enormous barbed harpoon. The tree-sized spear had penetrated the Juniper’s hull, drawing with it a hawser at least a foot in diameter. A faint cheer went up from the pirate ship. The two vessels were now joined like beads on a string.

The fight started again, but something had shifted. The Juniper’s airmen were losing. Gavin saw Captain Naismith standing at the gunwale, a foot-long crossbow in his grip. A yellow flicker danced in his hands, and Gavin’s stomach went cold at the sight of a small open flame, the absolute bane of every airship in existence. The captain lit the end of his crossbow bolt and raised it, but no crossbow that small had the range to reach the pirate ship. A nauseating horror swept Gavin as he realized that the captain was aiming not at the pirate ship, but at the Juniper’s own envelope.

The distraction allowed the pirate to swat Gavin’s cutlass. Pain stung Gavin’s hand, and the glass blade spun away, distorting light as it went. Gavin jumped back in time to avoid the pirate’s second swing, then fled. The airmen who fought beside him, caught in fights of their own, barely had time to give him a glance.

“Come back, love!” the pirate yelled. “You need to dance for me!”

Gavin all but flew across the deck to Captain Naismith. Already he could imagine the blazing bolt piercing the envelope, ripping into the ballonets of hydrogen to create a fireball that would incinerate the ship and drop the charred remains into the ocean. The detail was sharp-Gavin could see Naismith’s finger tense around the trigger. Heart pounding from both exertion and terror, Gavin lunged and grabbed Naismith’s arm.

“Captain!” he shouted. “No!”

“Let go my arm, Master Ennock,” he said through gritted teeth. “They won’t take my ship.”

“We can’t get revenge if we’re dead,” Gavin said.

A dull clanking noise vibrated the deck beneath Gavin’s boots. The pirates were operating a winch that pulled the two ships closer together. Fear fought with pale determination in Naismith’s expression.

“It’s ransom or slavery for us, Master Ennock,” he said. “I can’t condemn my men to such a life.” He wrenched his arm free and raised the crossbow again. The dreadful little flame flickered like a demon.

Gavin hesitated, uncertain. It would be so easy to let him. Naismith was the captain, and Gavin was duty- bound to follow his orders, orders that would destroy Tom’s killer. But Gavin wasn’t ready to die, and burning to death was the secret horror of every airman.

In that moment of hesitation, Naismith’s finger tightened on the trigger. Then he made a small sound and collapsed face-forward to the deck. The crossbow fell also, the bolt extinguished. An enormous scarlet stain spread across the back of the captain’s blue coat. Behind him stood the pirate Gavin had just been fighting, air pistol still in his hand. He holstered the weapon.

“Looks like I reloaded just in time, love,” he said with a grin. “Got me a captain.”

Hot rage overcame Gavin. He snarled and flung himself at the pirate. The pirate’s eyes widened in surprise, but only for a moment. His fist lashed out and caught Gavin squarely in the face. Pain exploded through his head, and he went down to the hard deck.

Gavin awoke to pain. Someone was dabbing at his cheek with a cloth. He opened his eyes and sat up. Light hurt his eyes and sitting up made him dizzy, so he shut his eyes and put his hands to his head. He shivered with cold.

“You’re all right, son.” It was Old Graf’s voice. “Bump on the head, some bruises. You’ll survive.”

Gavin risked opening his eyes again. He was sitting on the deck in the same place he had fallen. For a moment it looked as if everything had returned to normal. Airmen in white moved about the deck and climbed in the netting. Then he saw the stacks of dead bodies, the pools of blood, the gashes in the wood. The two ships were still tethered together, though now they were both moving off, continuing the Juniper’s original eastern course. The airmen weren’t the crew Gavin knew. They were the pirates. Gavin’s own leathers were gone. He wore nothing but undergarments and chilly skin. Old Graf himself wore a ragged shirt and torn trousers.

“What-?” Gavin said.

“The pirates took our good white leathers for themselves,” he said. “Keep your voice down. You don’t want to call attention to yourself. Here.” He gave Gavin a dirty brown shirt, a pair of loose trousers, and an old pair of shoes. Gavin quickly pulled them on, though they did little to blunt the ever-present wind. The pain in his head continued to throb, and he was thirsty.

“A third of the crew dead, and Captain Naismith,” Old Graf said, unprompted. “Captain Keene-the pirate captain-put some of the ‘dangerous’ survivors off the ship in life balloons already so we wouldn’t try to raise a mutiny.” He handed Gavin a canteen, and Gavin gulped down stale water. “The rest of us are expected to help run the ship until we get to London.”

“London?” Gavin echoed stupidly. “We’re supposed to go to Madrid. I was going to see the castle.”

“Tell that to Captain Keene,” Old Graf growled. “When we get to London, he’s going to sell the cargo and hold us and the Juniper for ransom to the shipping company.”

Outrage cleared Gavin’s head a little. “That’s illegal! We’re not at war with England! That’s-”

“Part of his letter of marque. Keene’s been charged with keeping the airways safe for British ships, and we fired on him first.”

“No, we didn’t!” Gavin said hotly.

“Shush!” Old Graf made a sharp gesture. “Who do you think a British court will believe, son? Just be glad you didn’t get tossed over in a life balloon.”

“Why wasn’t I?” Gavin asked bitterly. “I’m just a cabin boy. The company won’t pay a ransom for me, and my family doesn’t have any money.”

“He spoke for you.” Old Graf jerked his head toward one of the pirates, who was wearing stolen airman leathers and inspecting the hydrogen extractor on deck not far away. “Name’s Madoc Blue. Said he was going to teach you to dance or something.”

Gavin’s gut knotted. Madoc Blue was the pirate who had killed Captain Naismith. As if Gavin’s thought caught Blue’s attention, the pirate turned and met Gavin’s eye. He winked broadly and went back to what he was doing. Gavin fought to keep his face impassive. He had a pretty good idea of what Blue had in mind for him, and the thought made him want to throw up.

“So what do we do?” Gavin whispered.

“We run the ship,” Old Graf said. “And when we get to London, we sit in whatever cell these bastards lock us in and hope the company pays our ransom.”

Three days passed. Gavin fell into a stupor. His body mechanically went through his normal daily tasks under the watchful eye of armed pirates, but his mind was filled with a blessed fog. He scrubbed decks and sewed seams and spliced rope and ran messages for the new captain, all without truly thinking about what he did. At night, he slept fitfully in his hammock, dreaming of his family back in Boston. Sometimes he saw Tom plummeting into an abyss, but he wore Gavin’s own face. Then the pirate first mate would be shouting them awake, and a new day of captive work began. At least Madoc Blue kept his distance. Bernie Yost, the Juniper’s hydrogen man, had been killed in the original raid, and Captain Keene had given the job to Blue. Even the most tightly sewn ballonets leaked a little, and without continual replacement, the ship would eventually sink to the ground-or into the ocean. An efficient hydrogen extractor was therefore key to the survival of any working airship, and the job of hydrogen man carried the same status as ship’s carpenter or pilot. The job also took up a lot of time, which meant Blue was too busy to pay Gavin any heed.

At the end of the fourth day, Captain Keene, a red-faced man built like a brick, assembled the captive airmen and his pirates on the Juniper’s deck and announced a celebration for his crew. The pirates cheered. The airmen, less enthusiastic, were to be locked in the brig so the pirates could enjoy themselves