Leviathan

Dr. Barlow clicked her tongue. “Your airship looks unhappy.”

The Leviathan was still about fifty feet up, the captain bringing her down with infinite caution. The cilia on its flanks were rippling, and flocks of fabricated birds roiled across the park, driven from their nesting coves by the airship’s twitchiness.

What was the great beastie so nervous about? Deryn glanced up, remembering the squall that had almost ended her Air Service career on the first day. But the sky was cloudless. Maybe it was the gawkers surrounding the field, their bright parasols twirling in the sun.

“My cargo requires a smooth ride, Mr. Sharp.”

“It’ll be calm once we’re off the ground,” Deryn said. In one airmanship lecture Mr. Rigby had filled a wineglass to the brim—even during hard turns not a drop had spilled over. “It’s just that the airflow gets messy down here.”

Dr. Barlow nodded. “Especially in the middle of London, I suppose.”

“Aye, ma’am. The streets tangle up the wind, and the big ships get nervous coming down on unfamiliar fields.” Deryn said this flatly, not mentioning whose fault the situation was. “You see those wee grassy bits on the ship’s flanks? They’re called cilia, and they look shivery to me.”

“MOORING AT REGENT’S PARK.”

“I know what cilia are, Mr. Sharp,” the lady boffin said. “I fabricated this particular species, in fact.”

Deryn blinked, feeling like a ninny. Lecturing one of the Leviathan’s creators on the subject of airflow!

The thylacine was bouncing happily on its hind legs again, its big brown eyes taking in all the activity. Two elephantines waited below the airship, harnessed to a transport wagon and an armored car. The constables could hardly keep the crowd back from the spectacle.

With no mooring mast in the park, ropes stretched in all directions from the Leviathan. Deryn frowned, noticing that some of the men clinging to them weren’t in Service uniforms. She spotted a few policemen, and even a team of cricketers drafted from games in the park.

“Fitzroy must be daft,” she muttered.

“What’s the trouble, Mr. Sharp?” Dr. Barlow asked.

“Those men on the ropes, ma’am. If a squall comes up quick, they won’t know to let go—and fast—or be carried up into the air …”

“Where they shall eventually lose their grip,” Dr. Barlow said.

“Aye. One strong gust can carry the Leviathan up a hundred feet in seconds.” It was the first thing they taught ground men: Don’t hang on. The trees rippled overhead, sending a shiver through Deryn.

“What would you recommend we do, Mr. Sharp?”

Deryn frowned, wondering if the ship’s officers knew what was going on. Most of the untrained men were back at the stern end, out of sight of the bridge. “Well, if we could get word up to the captain, he’ll know to get down fast, or cut the ropes if a squall hits.”

She scanned the field, looking for Fitzroy, or anyone in charge. But the park was all in chaos, and the chief constable nowhere to be seen.

“Perhaps Clementine can help us,” Dr. Barlow said.

“Who?”

Dr. Barlow handed Tazza’s leash to Deryn, then reached for the birdcage. She opened the linen cover and reached inside, pulling out a bird with gray feathers and a brilliant red tuft at its tail.

“Good morning, Dr. Barlow,” the bird squawked.

“Good morning, dear,” she answered. Then she said in a slow, clear voice, “Captain Hobbes, greetings from Dr. Barlow. I have a message from Mr. Sharp: You appear to have some untrained men on your ropes.” She looked at Deryn and shrugged. “And … I look forward to meeting you, sir. End message.”

She gathered the bird closer to her chest, then pushed it toward the airship.

As it swept up and away, Deryn murmured, “What was that?”

“A message parrot,” Dr. Barlow said. “Based on the Congo African Grey. We’ve been training it especially for this trip. It can read airmen’s uniforms and gondola markings, just like a proper Service lizard.”

“Training it, ma’am?” Deryn frowned. “But I thought this Constantinople business came up all of a sudden.”

“Indeed, things are moving more quickly than expected.” Dr. Barlow lay one hand on the mysterious box. “But some of us have been planning this mission for years.”

Deryn gave the box another wary glance, then turned to watch the parrot. It flapped through the ropes and guidelines, straight into the open windows of the bridge.

“That’s brilliant, ma’am. It’s like a flying message lizard!”

“They have many of the same life threads,” Dr. Barlow said. “In fact, some of us believe that birds share ancestors with the ancient lizards… .” Her voice faded as the Leviathan’s tanks let loose with a spray of ballast.

The ship rose a little, the men on the ropes skidding along the ground in a losing tug of war against the airship.

“Blisters!” Deryn swore. “Why’s he climbing?”

“Oh dear,” Dr. Barlow said, looking down. “I do hope that was Clementine.”

Deryn followed her stare to the birdcage. Another hooked gray beak was poking out, gnawing on the bars. “There’s two of them?”

The lady boffin nodded. “Winston tends to garble things, and I can never tell them apart. It’s such a bother.”

Deryn swallowed, watching as the ballast water rained down on the ground men’s heads. It sparkled prettily in the sunlight, but Deryn knew where that ballast came from—it was straight from the gastric channel, clart and all.

The civilians among them thought something had gone wrong. A squad of men in cricketing whites dropped their ropes and covered their heads, retreating from the unexpected rain of smelly water. The ship rose higher as their weight left the ropes, but Deryn saw the hydrogen sniffers on the ship’s topside going into a frenzy. The captain was also venting gas.

The ship steadied in the air.

Another spray of ballast came, heavier than the last. The proper ground men, who’d had clart hit their heads a hundred times, hung on. But in a few moments all the untrained men had abandoned their ropes.

“Very clever, your captain,” Dr. Barlow said.

“Nothing like a bit of muck to clear things out!” Deryn said happily, then added, “So to speak, ma’am.”

Dr. Barlow let out a laugh. “Indeed. I shall enjoy traveling with you, Mr. Sharp.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Deryn glanced at the lady boffin’s massive pile of luggage. “Perhaps you could mention that to the bosun. You see, the ship’s a wee bit over-weight.”

“I shall,” the woman said, taking back her beastie’s leash. “We’d like a little cabin boy all our own, wouldn’t we, Tazza?”

“Um, that’s not really what I …” Deryn blethered, starting to explain that midshipmen were officers, practically. They certainly weren’t cabin boys.

But Dr. Barlow was already leading her thylacine toward the airship, trailed by the other boffins and their mysterious box.

Deryn sighed. At least she’d earned her place aboard the Leviathan. And after his blunder with the ropes, that bum-rag Fitzroy might finally get what he deserved. Not bad for one day’s work.