Goliath

“Stop barking calling me that.”

“I assure you, young man, it’s the highest compliment a hotel-raised girl can muster.”

Deryn rolled her eyes. And she’d thought Eddie Malone was annoying.

Whoever had doctored the Leviathan’s fuel had done a precise job of it. The starboard engine had seized up only an hour away from Villa’s airfield. The tip of a mooring tower rose up from a steep-sided canyon, deep enough for the Leviathan to hide itself in. The canyon had only one narrow entrance, but a hundred rocky nooks and crannies along its sides.

“A natural fortress,” Deryn said. “I take it this General Villa is one of the revolutionaries.”

“He’s a rebel at heart.” Miss Rogers shrugged. “Though it’s complicated these days, more of a civil war than a revolution.”

“But he’s using Clanker engines. Do the Germans have a hand in all this?”

“All the powers are supplying one faction or another. The Great War has only raised the stakes.”

Deryn sighed. Alek was right about one thing: One way or another, the war had sunk its claws into every nation on Earth. Even this distant conflict had been shaped by the war machines and fighting beasts of Europe.

Another reason for Alek to feel bad, to think all the world’s troubles were his fault. Sometimes Deryn wished that she could burn the guilt out of his heart, or protect him from how awful the war was. Or at least make him forget somehow.

As the Leviathan slowed to a halt, the bottom of the canyon came into view. A few Clanker engines aside, these rebels were definitely Darwinists. Patches of fabricated corn covered the ground in bright colors, and a high stone wall penned a herd of fabricated bulls the size of streetcars. Six-legged donkeys carried packs down the steep trails leading into the canyon, and a pair of squidesque airbeasts grazed on the nearby cliff tops, their languid tentacles clearing scrub grass and cacti.

But on a high outcrop of rock a mile away was another bit of Clanker technology—a wireless tower.

“So that’s how Hearst arranged all this.”

Miss Rogers tutted. “Didn’t someone tell me that your Mr. Tesla was a radio wiz?”

“Aye, but he’s hardly arms-smuggling material. He can’t stop blethering about peace.”

“But his Goliath is a weapon, is it not?”

Deryn didn’t bother to deny that.

The Leviathan angled itself into the wind, the cilia rippling to push it down. The manta ships drifted at a polite distance, but Deryn wondered if they had any hidden firepower. If the Mexicans were importing Clanker engines, maybe they’d got a few rockets in the bargain. The Leviathan’s strafing hawks were still in the air, of course, ready to strike in all directions.

Soon the sides of the canyon were rising up around Deryn, making her feel trapped. It was strange to be up on the spine and yet have stone walls to either side. If there was any treachery, the only way out would be straight up.

The airbeast’s nose eased toward the tower, a team of riggers standing ready at the mooring crossbow. A grappling hook was set in the crossbow.

“Ready…,” Deryn called as the tower drew near. “Fire!”

The crossbow snapped, sending the grappling hook soaring. With a rattle of metal and chain, its prongs tangled in the struts of the tower.

“Draw her in!” Deryn cried, and the riggers wound the cable fast, tightening the hook’s grip. “Now tie her off!”

Soon the ship was secure, and from the canyon walls echoed the slither of cables dropping from the gondola below. The captain would be winching the ship down rather than venting hydrogen. That would keep the Leviathan buoyant, sitting in the canyon like a cork at the bottom of a bathtub, ready to pop up and out in case of danger.

Deryn’s eyes swept the rocky ground below. The men gathering up the Leviathan’s ropes had rifles slung across their backs, but there was no sign of heavy arms, except for a half dozen cannon guarding the mouth of the canyon. They were pointed away from the airship, and looked like leftovers from a bygone war.

“Little wonder your boss wants to lend General Villa a hand,” Deryn said, lowering her field glasses. “The general has got plenty of beasties, but no proper guns.”

“I’ve heard the chief say exactly that.” Miss Rogers sighed. “I just wish he’d told me what he was up to.”

“Aye, he might have told us, too!”

The ground men below were pulling the ropes out in all directions. Deryn spotted Newkirk drifting down on gliding wings to help them. The boy was soon waving his arms as he tried to organize Villa’s men.

“Do you know any Spanish, Miss Rogers?”

“As much as any girl from southern California. Which means more than a little but less than I’d like.”

Deryn nodded. “You might be the only one on the ship who does. Stand ready.”

“Much as I’d love to review my reflexive verbs, Mr. Sharp, it won’t be necessary. I’m certain all of General Villa’s motion picture contracts are in English.”

“His what?”

“Didn’t I tell you? That’s how Mr. Hearst knows him. They’re both in the movie business!” Miss Rogers swept her hand across the encampment. “That’s how Villa finances all this. He takes moving pictures of his battles and sends them to Los Angeles. He’s practically a motion picture star!”

“So Hearst has a movie deal with him?”

The reporter shook her head. “Villa’s contract is with Mutual Films. But I suppose the chief wants to horn in. Crafty, isn’t he?”

“A bit too crafty for my liking,” Deryn muttered. If Hearst was such a peace lover, why was he sending weapons into Mexico? Or did he only care about making newsreels?

“There’s something above us, sir,” one of the riggers called. “Up on the cliffs!”

Deryn looked up. A column of smoke was rising from the edge of the canyon. She closed her eyes to listen over the shouts of the men below, and heard it—the rumble of a Clanker engine.

Did the rebels have a walking machine up there? She’d seen nothing from the air, though any number of walkers might have hidden in the rocky terrain.

“And that way, sir!” called another man. Deryn turned and saw a second cloud of engine smoke rising from the far side of the canyon. There was dust rising as well, a sure sign of legs in motion. The tiny manta airships might have only Gatling guns, but walkers could carry heavy cannon.

Deryn pulled out her command whistle and blew for a message lizard. “We’re being surrounded, and the officers down on the bridge can’t see it!”

“But why would General Villa betray us?” Miss Rogers asked. “He wants those guns we’re bringing him.”

“He might also want the Leviathan!” Deryn cried. “It’s one of the biggest airships in all of Europe. Think how powerful it would make him here in Mexico!”

Miss Rogers waved a hand. “But Mr. Hearst just wants a dramatic story. If the rebels destroy us, he’ll get no story at all!”

“Aye, but has anyone explained that to the barking rebels?”

“These are civilized rebels, young man. They have movie deals!”

“That’s no guarantee of sanity!” Deryn felt the tug of a message lizard pulling on her trouser leg. She knelt and said, “Bridge, this is Middy Sharp. Walkers on the cliffs above us, at least two. Could be an ambush! End message.”

The beastie scampered away, but it would take at least a minute to reach the bridge. By then the vast topside of the Leviathan would be in the sights of the walkers’ guns, as easy to hit as a cricket field.

She spun around, checking on the manta ships. They didn’t seem to be closing in. Not yet, anyway.