She wasn’t going to relax until they were safely docked, the hull braced, and the engines powered down for the rest they deserved.
Until then, it was double effort to try anything they could. When the lift lines were as even as they could get them, she’d get on a swing and patch that tear in the underside of the envelope. Then tarp patches for the other missing sections of the hull, if they weren’t to Heddard Bay already. Whatever would reduce drag. Give Tisker whatever help they could to fly them into dock with a little of their dignity intact.
She spared a glance for her pilot as they ran for the forward lines. Tisker was tight-lipped, eyes on the gauges of the console. His gauze-wrapped fists gripped at the wheel. His forearms braced along the handles to support his damaged hands.
He didn’t look up at them as they moved past or call out a report of what the readouts said. She didn’t ask. From the set of his jaw and the knotting of his brows, she knew. She swallowed and ran faster.
There was no system in place for tightening or loosing the lines. Like the planks of the deck, they were installed as a fixed constant. They were what they were. But they were too loose now.
If they got through this, she’d never fly without backup line for the lift systems again. Something thicker and three times the length. High-quality stuff, reinforced, even if it wasn’t as big around as a full-size lift line.
And winches. She’d install winches for making adjustments. Gears and cranks forged by master Rakkar metalsmiths.
Talis made all these silent promises to her ship and worked as hard as she could with what they had.
They slipped a loop of the thinner stuff through the tight gap in the line anchor at the starboard fore railing, tied it as tight as they could, and started reeling the lift line in. It was a battle with the tension, and the eye of the anchor didn’t spare them much room. Even less when the line started to fold back. Talis, Dug, and Sophie pulled against it, struggling to get the loop through the too-small gap.
Come on, girl, she urged her ship. Just a little farther.
But Wind Sabre had gone as far as she could. Her heart gave out.
Chapter 44
All the promises that Talis made to her ship couldn’t keep it together. Wind Sabre’s death knell was an understated staccato ping of something critical failing within the engine’s complex system.
Sophie cried out and let go of the line. Talis and Dug lurched forward and scrambled to take up the slack. Sophie stripped off her gloves and dropped them on the deck behind her as she ran back toward the Number One engine’s deck house.
There was a growl from midship. Then, louder, a chuffing sound. Then an outright howl of metal on metal, and the grinding screech as working engine parts fought others that had stopped moving.
Sophie, halfway across the deck, skidded to a stop. Took a tentative step backward.
There was a hiss, then a whine like a massive teapot angry at being forgotten.
Sophie ran straight past the engines.
Waving her arms, she shouted for them to find cover. Her voice was nearly drowned out by the screams of the failing mechanics. She made it to the wheelhouse, skidding in and pushing Tisker down behind the bulk of the wheel’s supporting pedestal. She crouched there, her arms around him, making them as small as she could behind the narrow shelter.
Dug let go of the rope and grabbed Talis by the shoulders as the line lurched free of her hands. There was nothing to hide behind on the forward deck, and the hatch to the forecastle cabin below was sealed from the other side. He forced her down flat on the decking and shielded her body with his.
She felt the entire ship heave, lurching, trembling with the force of the explosion. Heard the fireball that the engine expelled, a whoosh and a clap of thunder as metal warped. The momentary whine of the metal housing as it was torn open from within, wrenched apart by the built-up energy from moving components straining against their deadened counterparts.
A moment later she felt the heat of it on her exposed skin.
Shrapnel hit the deck around them, and Dug flinched beside her. The shrapnel was hitting him, too. His torso was bare, except for the safety harness he hadn’t bothered to remove. She struggled against his weight, trying to move out from beneath him so he could lay flatter, but he held her fast, pinning her to the deck where he’d braced her.
The hull beneath them felt like it was dragging on gravel. It shuddered. They rocked forward as momentum suddenly slowed.
Talis’s ears rang. Dug shook her, and she realized he was talking to her. She tried to answer that she couldn’t hear what he said, but she couldn’t hear herself either. She shook her head at him, but he was looking away already. Away and up.
Something flapped over their heads. She blinked the fog from her vision and could see a twisted section of the catwalk, and the responsible chunk of the engine housing that had destroyed it, tangled in the shredded canvas of the lift balloon. She saw Wind Sabre’s hot breath as it escaped the envelope. More puffs of steaming air came from other portions around the curve of the balloon from where she was.
Patching the canvas had just taken priority over the lift lines, to keep what hot air they could and help the remaining engine do the work of two.
Dug helped her to her feet. The ringing in Talis’s ears
