“You’re doing the right thing, Noli,” he assured as they rose into the sky.
Four
The Vixen’s Revenge
As she and Jeff descended on his hoverboard, Noli gazed in awe at the many airships docked at the Grand Central Air Terminal. The station housed everything from the tiny, bird-like sparrow-class schooners held together with twine and rivets to luxury eagle-class liners, sweeping pleasure boats like the one that would take her mother and grandfather to Boston.
Mama. A pang of sadness shot through her, but excitement pushed it away. Her mother would be fine.
They landed near the main building, the street in front bustling with carriages, motorcabs, hoverboards, flying cars, passengers, and aeronauts.
“Stay close.” Jeff tucked his hoverboard under his arm, then offered her his free one. They strolled through the main building of the station with its ticket counters and baggage check, bars, restaurants, and shops. People hurried about even this late at night.
They left passenger terminal and entered another, this one dimmer, grimmer, and dingier. The floors were sticky, making her glad she wore a shorter dress. Her nose wrinkled at the ripe smell. Even the people here seemed … fiercer.
No it didn’t. Maybe she should retrieve her parasol for self-defense.
“This is the terminal for cargo vessels. There’s also one for private pleasure craft.” Jeff glared at a man with one arm and a scar on his face who stalked past them with a scowl on this face which caused her to inch closer to her brother.
Ah, the cargo vessel terminal. Many cargo vessels were reputable, but most folks who worked on them weren’t people Grandfather Montgomery would ever invite over for tea.
“Whenever we’re in port stay with me—even passenger terminals aren’t safe for a lady alone.” He pulled her to him.
They passed a drinking establishment, lively with noise and packed with bodies. Two men unceremoniously threw another out the door onto the ground right at their feet. Jeff pulled her out of the way. They went through a doorway marked “docks” and navigated several flights of rickety stairs and went out another door. The cool night air kissed her face and the sight of moored airships greeted them as they walked out onto the wooden docks, the ground far below.
Her eyes widened as she took everything in under the dim gas lamps. It had been some time since she’d seen so many airships up close. Most of them were smaller, raven or falcon-class with a few little sparrows, most looking like a cross between birds and pirate ships. Balloons filled with helium or hydrogen bobbed among the wooden and metal ship bodies. One or two looked like repurposed military ships—more of a gunmetal gray then dark wood and gleaming brass, with a tiny cabin and one large balloon.
She frowned as they walked past a sparrow, a small wooden schooner, more bird-like than boat like. One gasfilled balloon held it aloft and an outboard engine sat on each side of the wooden body. Hull riddled with bullet holes, two men dressed similarly to Jeff stood on ladders and worked to repair it by gas lamp.
Jeff raised an arm in greeting. “Encounter some trouble, Finn?”
One of the men waved back from his perch on a ladder. “Blasted MoBatts nearly shot us out of the sky over Deseret. Don’t know what’s going on but steer clear if you can. Those MoBatts are sons of—” He blushed and tipped his floppy cap at Noli. “My apologies, miss.”
“No offense taken,” she bobbed her head in greeting. What was a MoBatt?
Jeff shook his head and pushed her past the men, giving them a wave goodbye. “Noli, let me show you my ship.”
Finn eyed them curiously, but waved back as they moved down the docks.
Noli stayed close to her brother. The high wooden pier didn’t have nets or fences like the ones she’d been to before and it was a long way to the ground below.
“Who was he?” Noli asked.
“Finn’s a good friend of mine, he flies decoy. I didn’t introduce you because on second thought, he’s not someone you should be acquainted with.” He grimaced. “I’m starting to think this wasn’t the best idea.”
Her jaw gritted as she shifted her valise on her shoulder. “If you force me to go to Boston, I’ll run away.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you.” He squeezed her arm and they passed more beautiful airships of all shapes and sizes.
“What’s a MoBatt?” She made a face as she tried to think of what it could be.
“Deseret Territory’s private security force. They can’t have their own army but the U.S. has no problem with them having private security, especially ones that like to chase air pirates.”
“Deseret?” Noli blinked. “We studied them in school. What an odd little territory.” It was in between Nevada and Colorado. “Do you think they’ll ever have to become a state?”
“I think as long as they pay taxes, use U.S. currency, obey the law, and don’t deny settlers, the government will leave them be. Did you know that drinking and gambling are illegal there?” He made face as if was a terrible, horrible thing.
Noli laughed at his expression. “I suppose opium and joy-houses are illegal as well? What a completely inhospitable place.”
His lips pursed in a way that meant he didn’t find her joke nearly as amusing as she did. “They mean business. Those MoBatts are nasty … a nasty lot, well,” he shot her a lopsided smile. “If you’re on the wrong side of the law, that is. This is why certain types of ships utilize decoys when we need to travel through Deseret. They’re even worse than the air patrol.”
Her stomach sank to the toes of her black boots as she realized she was about to cross over to the wrong side of the law. There was a big difference between crashing an unregistered flying car when you had no operators permit and air piracy.
“Decoy? Well, that’s one use for a sparrow-class ship.” The only good thing about the little ships was that they could be jerry-rigged to out fly anything in the sky.
They stopped in front of a raven-class ship. Two oblong gas-filled balloons held by woven nets floated above it, fans on the sides, the crow’s nest between. Wood and brass fashioned the body. It had a central engine that was part inside and part outside, not entirely outboard like a sparrow, and two smaller engines, one on each side of the main engine. Raven-class ships always reminded her of a flying pirate ship, though in this ship, nearly everything would take place below, unlike falcon-class ships. A brass wheel sat up top for emergencies. A flag waved from the crow’s nest, burgundy with a blue stripe—a cargo ship for hire.
Clearly, someone took pride in this vessel. It had polished wood, fresh paint, and if it ever had been shot up it had been carefully repaired and concealed. The brass railings gleamed in the moonlight. The gangplank was down.
“Here she is–the Vixen’s Revenge.” Jeff beamed as he gestured to the shining ship.
“There’s no name on the hull.” Or picture. Many of the vessels she’d seen in the past had pictures of scantily clad women, mermaids, or other mascots painted on the side along with the ship’s name.
Jeff shook his head. “Makes you easier to find—also it’s more of a pleasure craft convention than a commercial one. Though the boats you usually fly on probably have them.”
“What boats?” Noli laughed. “Mama doesn’t like airships, remember? When we went to San Francisco she forced me to
