“Gods, no, Captain,” Sophie said without a pause. “The sooner we get to a dock and can shut down the system, the more of it we can save.”
Talis looked out past the railing. The sky was tinted hazy green, so that the distant stars were muted. The view should have been partially obscured by the midship lift line, but what remained of that had been cleared from the deck. The anchor for it, built into the railing, was barren. The eye, meant to fix the heavy loop of rope, stared back at her.
“Then we’ll take whatever line we have and re-string the three anchors. I know it’s thin, but—”
Sophie turned her face up at the lift envelope, blinking. “—but it’s worth a shot. Anything we can do to ease off on the strain. And soon.”
Talis swallowed. Sophie, whose optimism had no equal, wasn’t smiling. The engine was in worse shape than she’d let on.
“Dug and I will meet you port-side aft. You good?”
She was sending Sophie up to the catwalks built along the perimeter of the lift envelope. With three lines loose, the bob and hop of the lift balloon would try to shake her free with every step.
“Good as a goat,” Sophie replied, mustering a tight smile for her captain. Her windlegs were a source of pride, second only to that which she felt for the ship she loved.
Still, it was going to be a nauseating stroll at best. Talis didn’t move. Considered going up herself, instead. Her stomach lurched at the thought.
Finally offering a real smile, Sophie clasped Talis’s wrist again. “I’ll wear a harness this time, Captain. Promise.”
Satisfied, Talis nodded, then left her to fetch Dug.
Standing on Wind Sabre’s lowest deck with Dug, Talis stared in disbelief at their inventory of line.
The coils kept in the main hold were meant for small patch jobs, securing cargo, or—in a fix—for towing. She’d never given much thought to the length of the uncut spools, but she’d expected them to be longer than they proved to be.
“There might be enough, Captain, if we don’t loop them.” Dug’s voice was low, as if speaking too loud would shake Wind Sabre free of what lines she had left.
They frowned, their arms crossed, at the paltry supplies. Ideally, because the lines were lightweight, Talis had intended to double them up, so that two widths ran up to the balloon, looped the anchor up top, and ran down again to hold the lift balloon to the ship.
But they might not even have enough to connect one length end-to-end.
“That’s that, then.” She sighed. “We’ll have to shorten the length on the proper lines, too.”
Which would jostle the whole ship. She might as well drop a hammer into the engine while she was at it.
No choice. No time.
She heaved one side of the nearest full spool, twisting it on its wooden disk to reposition it so they could both get a grip and maneuver it up the three levels to the aft deck.
Sophie was waiting for them on the catwalk above, and lowered a wire as Talis and Dug rolled the heavy spool of line down the deck. Talis could see the dark straps of Sophie’s safety harness crossed against the lighter fabric of her coveralls. She wore thick gloves, the heavy cuffs of which covered her forearms. Talis and Dug ought to put them on, too. Last thing they needed was more wounded hands.
Dug slipped the end of their rope into the loop on Sophie’s wire and secured it with a practiced knot. He and Talis freed the length of rope from the spool and laid the coil so it wouldn’t snag as they pulled it upward.
Talis fastened the other end to the railing anchor with the strongest knot she could tie that wouldn’t get too greedy with length.
Dug’s jaw was set in concentration. Last night, everything had been okay. Stable. But now Wind Sabre was falling apart. Talis couldn’t fool herself that they’d be able to just patch the hull up and sail off again. Repairs would take months. Months of sitting still and stewing over everything they’d lost. She wanted to ask Dug what he was thinking, but every time she opened her mouth to speak, it was easier to close it again and just concentrate on the work. If she didn’t ask, she didn’t have to hear the answer she was dreading.
Dug waved an arm to signal Sophie. Hand over hand, she began to haul the line up. It was a big weight for the petite woman. Her feet were braced against the vertical rails of the catwalk, and she leaned back to counterbalance the weight.
“Wouldn’t say no to an extra hand, Captain!”
They needed to do this right. It wasn’t just timing, but balance, too. Talis inhaled. It was why she’d gone for the port line first, to balance the starboard line at midship that they still had. She wanted to get both aft connections to the lift balloon secure as soon as possible. But if Sophie couldn’t tie off the line up top by herself, there was no point.
She looked to Dug. “I’ll go. Would be a sorry sight if I tried to get the next spool on my own, but you might manage it. Grab two more lengths of the thinner line while you’re at it.”
On a good day, she loved to ascend the lift lines. Nothing felt so invigorating as fighting the wind for balance on the weather deck built into the top of the envelope, where the tiny calf-high railing was only a formality. The sky above and around her, and their natural element whipping about, trying to claim her. It was a refreshing place to go when she needed to clear her head.
If the ship had more crew, there’d be watches along the lift balloon’s catwalk, too. As it was, with just the four of
