Leviathan

Alek landed on top of her, the barrel of the gun jabbing hard into her ribs. She closed her eyes, waiting for an explosion of agony and noise.

He was struggling to free the pistol, so she pulled him harder against her. Ice cut her cheek as their struggle dug them deeper into the snow.

“STRUGGLE ON ICE.”

“Let me go!” he cried.

Deryn opened her eyes, glaring straight into his. He froze for a moment—and she spoke in a slow, clear voice.

“Don’t. Shoot. The air’s full of hydrogen!”

“I’m not trying to shoot anyone. I’m trying to get away!”

He started struggling again, the pistol jamming harder into her ribs. Deryn let out an oof. She wrapped a hand around the gun, trying to push the barrel aside.

A low growl rolled across the snow, and a sniffer thrust its long snout right into Alek’s face. He froze again, a look of horror draining the color from his skin. Suddenly the animals were all around them, their hot breath steaming.

“It’s okay, beasties,” Deryn said in a calm voice. “Just back off a wee bit, please? You’re scaring our friend here, and we don’t want him pulling the barking trigger.”

The nearest sniffer cocked its head, letting out a low whine. Deryn heard shouts, crewmen calling off the beasties. Green shadows from wormlamps swung around them.

Alek let out a sigh, his muscles going limp.

“Let go of the gun,” she said. “Please?”

“I can’t,” he said. “You’re squeezing my fingers.”

“Oh.” Deryn realized that her hand was still wrapped around his. “Well, if I let go, you won’t shoot me, will you?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” he said. “I would have shot you by now if I’d wanted to.”

“You’re calling me an idiot? You barking ninny! You almost blew us all up! Don’t you know what hydrogen smells like?”

“Of course not,” he said, giving her a look of disgust. “What an absurd question.”

She glared back at him, but loosened her grip. The boy let the pistol fall aside and stood up, warily facing the men around him. Deryn scrambled to her feet, dusting snow from her flight suit.

“What’s going on here?” came a voice from the darkness. It was Mr. Roland, the master rigger.

Deryn saluted. “Midshipman Sharp reporting, sir. I was knocked out in the crash, and when I came to, this boy was here. He gave me these satchels—full of medicines, I think. He lives somewhere hereabouts but won’t say where. I was trying to stop him for questioning, and he pulled a gun, sir!”

She knelt and picked up the pistol, proudly handing it to Mr. Roland.

“I managed to disarm him, though.”

“You did no such thing,” Alek muttered, then turned to Mr. Roland. Suddenly his twitchiness was gone. “I demand you let me go!”

“Do you, now?” Mr. Roland gave Alek a good hard look, then dropped his eyes to the pistol. “Austrian, isn’t this?”

Alek nodded. “I suppose so.”

Deryn stared at him. Was he a Clanker after all?

“And where did you get it?” Mr. Roland asked.

Alek sighed and crossed his arms. “In Austria. You’re all being ridiculous. I only came here to bring you medicines, and you treat me like an enemy.”

He shouted the last word, and one of the sniffers let out a bark. Alek flinched, looking down at it in horror.

Mr. Roland chuckled. “Well, if you’re only here to help, I suppose you’ve got nothing to worry about. Come with me, young man. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“What about me, sir?” Deryn asked. “I was the one who captured him!”

Mr. Roland gave her a look that all the warrant officers reserved for mere middies, like glancing at something on the bottom of his shoe. “Well, why don’t you take those satchels to the boffins. See what they make of them.”

Deryn opened her mouth to protest, but the word “boffins” reminded her of Dr. Barlow. Right before the crash she’d been headed for the machine room. Full of widgets and loose parts, it was no place to get bounced around in!

“Aye, sir,” Deryn said, and headed back toward the ship at a run.

With a quick apology to the half-deflated airbeast, she grabbed the ratlines and hoisted herself up. Her hands felt shaky and weak, but trudging all the way around the vast creature would take ages—so up and over it was.

She pulled herself higher, forcing questions about the strange boy from her mind.

TWENTY-FOUR

Once over the spine Deryn could see the wreck much better.

Men and beasts were everywhere on this flank, four searchlights stretching their shadows to monstrous proportions. The main gondola lay at an angle, half hanging from the harness, half resting in the snow. She scrambled down the ratlines and hit the ground running.

Inside the gondola the decks and bulkheads leaned to starboard, a fun house full of overturned furniture. With the scent of hydrogen everywhere, the oil lamps had been extinguished, leaving the chaos lit with the sickly green of glowworms. Men jostled in the slanting corridors, filling the air with curses and shouted orders.

Deryn dodged and weaved among them, hoping for a glimpse of Newkirk or Mr. Rigby. They’d been dangling from this side of the ship, which had rolled skyward, so they couldn’t have been crushed… .

But the bosun had looked badly wounded. What if he’d been dead before the airship had hit the snow?

Deryn swallowed the thought and kept running. Checking on the boffin was her first responsibility, a duty she was already late for.

She skidded to a halt outside the machine room and flung open the door. The place was a shambles. Boxes of parts had gone tumbling in the crash, leaving the floor covered with metal bits and pieces. They glimmered with the light of a wormlamp hanging aslant from the ceiling.

“Ah, Mr. Sharp,” came a voice. “At last you appear.”

Deryn sighed—half with relief, half with remembering how tiresome Dr. Barlow could be. She was in a corner of the room, bent over her mysterious box of cargo.

Tazza bounded from the shadows and up to Deryn, bouncing happily on his hind legs. She scratched the beastie’s ears.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, ma’am.” Deryn indicated the blood-caked collar of her flight suit. “Had a bit of an accident.”

“We all had an accident, Mr. Sharp. I should think that was obvious. Now could you please lend me a hand?”

Deryn held up the satchels. “Sorry, ma’am, but I’m here to ask you—”

“Time is of the essence, Mr. Sharp. I’m afraid your business can wait.”

Deryn started to argue, then realized that the top of the cargo box had been pried off. Heat rose from the insides, a few wisps of steam ghosting the freezing air. Straw packing was strewn everywhere—the secret purpose