An Airship Named Desire (Take to the Skies Book 1) (3 page)

Next came off my sticky chemise and torn up leggings, which allowed the cool air to caress my bare skin with the promise of dryness at long last. I rummaged through my boudoir and pulled on a black chemise and clean breeches. Plunking my feet back into my boots, I yanked the holster containing my pistol around my waist. As I rolled my shoulders back, my spine cracked with gusto. In fresh clothes, I felt much less like a pickled turnip and more like the first mate of the airship Desire. The door beckoned, but I took a moment to sit back on my bed.

That had been a close one. Too close. My heart still skipped off-beat in my chest, and my shoulders tensed as I readied for the next attack. Most of our jobs required some level of danger, but I hadn’t come that close to a bullet in the chest since the rendezvous in Seoul. Whatever the box contained, I didn’t think the contents warranted the risk.

Dangling my legs off the side of the bed, I swung them back and forth. My mirror hung on the opposite wall with as large a frame as I could find for it, decorated by wrought iron roses and twisted metal vines. I tugged on strands of my long hair and frowned, since I was unable to finger comb them into any semblance less than mess. No more time to waste while the men waited beyond the door.

“All ready.” I offered them a mockingly sweet grin and took the lead. A couple rugs lined the floor to the captain’s quarters, remnants from when Isabella decided to gussy up the ship. The maroon rugs blossomed with patterned roses with a golden trim along the perimeter. We paused right before knocking on the door.

“You have the box, right?” I turned to Jensen.

“No, I lost it in the five hours you spent brushing up in your room. I think your vanity devoured it.” He cracked a grin, lifting the box to confirm.

My laugh erupted in a sharp bark. “Please. You boys don’t see nearly enough tail. It’s not my fault I like to look classy.” I arched my back, and their eyes followed the motion to my satisfaction. 

“All for the Captain, eh?” Geoff gave me the side eye, sneaking the comment in even though he knew better. I slapped the back of his head.

“More of a man than you lot.” I stepped past them to Captain Morris’ large oak door and stopped. We were bound to pay for our lack of communication during our time aboard the merchant ship but better to face him now than hide about. Sucking in a deep breath, I knocked. 

Chapter Three

“Come on in,” Captain Morris called with a gruff voice.

He sat behind a long oaken desk, waiting for us with a cigar in hand. Normally, the man bustled around the ship fixing loose knots or practicing his swordsmanship on hapless deckhands, but he must’ve heard word of our return for him to be sitting around here. Sun streamed through the slatted windows and cast shadows along the sides of the room, enough of a light source that the two aether lamps on the opposite wall had been turned off. Behind his chair, a wooden locker held his private reserves of rum, absinthe, and anything else to take away the edge. A keypad sans-holographic display sat on the corner of his desk, which added one more piece of clutter to the overfull surface. As he rose to greet us, the edges of his khaki trenchcoat swept the ground.

“You retrieved the cargo?” Captain Morris stood as tall as the five-tier bookshelves in his room, and tufts of blackish-silver hair poked out from the aviator cap atop his head. Grays marked his age, but his tanned leathery face gave him a more rugged than wrinkled appearance. The man was a veteran. Morris had fought his whole life and bore the scars to prove it.

“Aye, aye, sir.” Jensen stepped forward, presenting him with the box.

“Was the ship well-guarded?” Morris turned the locked side toward him.

“Of course.” I swaggered forward, slipping my thumbs through my belt loops. “But you’re talking about me and Jensen. Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

He broke into a smile that tugged against a deep scar on the left side of his mouth. Whenever I faced him, the mark resurrected the memories of the knife he took for me, because this man had done more to protect and raise me in the last seven years than my father had for the first fifteen. Granted, dear old dad’s regime rested on pretty shaky standards.

“Good job.” He stepped past the desk and enveloped me in a fierce hug. My chest swelled with a pride that burned in the back of my throat. To Jensen, he offered a firm handshake. “This job had a higher price tag than we’ve seen in years, so it should keep the old girl running for some time. Thank you, both of you.”

My mind honed back in on reality. “We’re going to want to move fast,” I spoke up. “The merchant ship didn’t seem too happy about losing their prime piece of cargo. While their crew isn’t as capable as ours, that monstrosity’s equipped with top notch weaponry. The British Merchant Guild threw more than a couple coppers into construction.”  

“Where’s the rendezvous point?” Geoff asked. “I can begin plotting the fastest route there.” Jensen leaned against the far wall, favoring weight on the leg sans-gunshot wound. Captain Morris struck a match against the desk to light his Camacho cigar. Embers glared at the end, and he took a deep drag. The heady smell of tobacco filled the chamber, and I inhaled a deep lusty breath of it.

“We’ll need to get working immediately.” He tapped the top of the box. “The contact warned that the merchants might try and track us down. Whatever’s in here must be worth more than a bottle of fifty-year old scotch.”

“What’s our direction, Captain?” Geoff repeated. As he shifted his stance, the toe of his boot tapped a fast beat on the hardwood floor.

“We’re going stateside. The contact lies past the Californian divide, south of the Oregon marshes. North of Reno, we’ll hit the shores of Nevada, right by the sea at the Sutcliffe port. If you set the coordinates a notch above Reno, we’re in business.”

“Yes sir.” Geoff jogged off to start working his magic. He’d tried to explain his navigation system to me before, but after five seconds of watching variables and scanning for air buoys out the peephole, I gave up. Even the stacks of maps spread over his worktable made no sense to me. His journey book held notations and references to each individual map and the specific demarcations of the land. When it came to navigation, Geoff could plot a route faster than anyone else on board. 

“Free to go, sir?” Jensen already stepped halfway through the exit. Morris nodded. He waved on his way out, and the door shut with a click.

Morris stood and faced me with a frown tugging down the wrinkles on his face and his bushy brows drawn tight.

“You report back next time,” his voice sharpened. “Three days and we didn’t hear a word from either of you. You’ve been doing this for far too long to ignore your duties, regardless of circumstance—you should have known better.”

I bristled in defense and opened my mouth to retort. After all, maintaining radio silence became sort of key when our communicators blared louder than a fire alarm.

His gaze softened. “I was worried, Bea.”

Any excuse or retort dried in my throat, and I sighed. “I’ll do better next time, I promise.”

He nodded, satisfied. I learned after running my mouth for far too many years that explanations and rebuttals were for cowards. Whenever I fought with him and tried to justify my actions, he slapped me with another hefty helping of busywork. I used to go into my bunk to punch holes in the walls and for the longest time thought he hated me. However, after awhile his methods worked: I stopped arguing and started owning up for my mistakes. 

“Did you ruffle a few Officer petticoats for me?” A grin snuck onto his face. Captain hearkened from old Germany and had no strong love for the British Merchant Guild. He had served in his country’s cavalry before most of Germany disbanded under Britain’s regime. Too loyal and stubborn for his own good, Morris took to the skies rather than joining a new army. 

“More than a few.” I smirked. “Granted, we spent most of our time hiding and then some in the vents. Your contact better pay us proper, because this wasn’t the run-of-the-mill retrieval job.”

“He will as soon as we deliver the goods.” He rapped a fist on top the box. The tap made a hollow noise, but the sound gave no hint of the contents.

“What do you think is in there?” I asked. “Hopefully nothing explosive.”

Morris shook his head. “I checked with our employer. Said he needed this box and gave us the retrieval details. I didn’t want any harmful substances or bombs aboard our ship, but he promised the cargo was of interest to him, not a dangerous item.”

“Besides the price tag though, what made you take him up on the job?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. “This mission stuck our necks out further than normal.”

“He looked me up because I was an old veteran and asked me to do one last job for the nation we once had. Gods Bea, Germany was my home, my country, and I served her for so many years. A chance to help those who remain?” He pressed his palms flat against his desk and examined them as if he lived through each scar and divot dotting his hands. “Maybe sentimental, but that’s why.”

“How’s Isabella recovering from last time?” I changed the subject, knowing well enough when he was close to losing himself in the memories. Several weeks ago our goods swap failed when a Morlock bastard shot her in the leg because they got a little too greedy. Even though they were our biggest source for jobs, that incident marked the last time we’d do business with the Morlocks. Good riddance.  

“She’s healing fast, no thanks to those turncoats. Edwin’s used a new salve on her that’s more effective than any on the market.”

I raised my brows. “As long as this isn’t some crazy experiment, and he put it through proper testing. We don’t want to amputate her leg because he accidentally threw some belladonna in.” Edwin’s creations landed hit or miss on the board, and one miss a year ago ended with the lot of us heaving overboard for a week. Fortifying meal solutions, my ass.

“How well equipped are we?” I took the leather-bound chair to the right of the desk. Since the rest of the crew had dispersed, he’d be honest with me.

Morris puffed a smoke ring into the air and tapped the side of his pipe before taking another slow inhale. “I’d be lying to say we don’t need this paycheck. After fueling up and restocking our reserves, we didn’t have as much to spend on ammunition. That last trade should have tided us through a couple months, but those Morlock bastards screwed that up.”

“Do you think they’ll give chase too? I mean, we left that squad rotting on the docks.” I sat at the edge of the seat with palms printing into the leather in front of me.

“They shot one of ours.” The lines deepened around his grey eyes. “I’d waste the whole army for spilling a drop of my crew’s blood.”

My heart thrummed with pride. All those years ago when I ran away from home, luck had been on my side.

“Some pirates,” he scoffed and pressed his cigar into an ashtray to put it out. “Real pirates follow the Code. Those Morlock bastards don’t care who they kill and what they destroy. They’ve torched airships and left them to plummet to the land.”

I picked up the cigar before it completely extinguished and took a drag. “Good thing we’re not like that, eh?” The taste of tobacco entered my throat, and my nerves slowed to a simmer. 

“I suppose I’ll go talk with Geoff.” Captain Morris roused himself from his chair. “He’s probably neck deep in his work right now and could use the help.”

“Better you than me.” I flicked my wrist to ash the cigar and put the embers out for good. “Our navigational system might as well be ancient Latin. I can’t figure out anything from it.”

He laughed. “Come now, all this time aboard and you still can’t triangulate our location?” We exchanged wry grins, and I followed him out. Morris made the right turn down the hallway toward the navigational chambers while I stopped by my cabin. Opening the locked cherry wood box on my dresser, I rummaged for the long velvet bag and withdrew my brass telescope. We sailed at a fast pace, but my instincts remained on guard for the merchant ship.

I tucked the multi-magnifying scope into the clasped pocket on my holster belt and headed for the upper levels to breathe some fresh air. Wooden steps sloped upward as I ascended and the ceiling stopped upon entering the deck. The old girl’s helium balloon loomed overhead, white like the surrounding clouds. Against the side, large black font spelled the word ‘Desire.’ Anyone from miles away knew who we were, so stealth missions, like the last one, started at the docks.   

On deck, the sun pierced the sky and soaked into my skin. Our crew bustled across the faded wooden planks while Spade stood steady at the helm. Because of Spade and Geoff, our ship avoided most turbulent pockets and cut straight through our courses like a turbine bike on the racetrack. Out in the open, nothing muted the sound of our propellers from the ship’s rear and the buzz roared in my ears. The mighty chrome blades whirred with the fury of our steam-powered engine.

I walked to the bulwark on the starboard side of the ship, since if the Brits trailed us, they’d be approaching from this side. Despite shoddy navigation skills, I still knew my points on a compass. As I leaned against the wooden ledge and peered over the side, the occasional cloud’s condensation kissed my face.

Blue spread all around me, like someone slapped a glob of pastel paint on an open canvas. I stretched the retractile segments of my telescope to full length, the scope spanning from my thumb to my pinkie finger. Peering through the eyepiece, I scanned a horizon amplified by the refracted crystals within the lens. A whole lot of sky came into focus but no flash of their Union Jack flag.

The copper glint of a mail delivery bird zoomed past my view. We hadn’t gotten a visit from those miniature mechanized birds since Edwin received his last batch of experimental astragalus. If the Brits pursued us they could always take cover in the clouds, but even still, I should’ve been able to see the sheen of a balloon or dark splotches of wood. I sighed and leaned against the bulwark. Wind rippled past my face and tossed strands of my hair like pennants until I got fed up and tucked the pieces behind my ear.

“Never pinned you for one of those philosopher types.” Jensen sidled next to me. “What are you musing about? The best thing before sliced bread?”

I waved the telescope in my hand. “Come on now, you’re thinking too well of me. I figured I’d check for pursuers.” I drank in the fresh taste of freedom—the same air I tasted every day since I boarded the ship so many years ago—exhilarating like new rain with drops of adrenaline and a zest of lemon. Jensen hunched over, his massive forearms dominating the ledge. The sunlight gleamed over his tan skin, creating shadows along the angular bridge of his nose, and his thick eyebrows knit together in concentration. 

“Do you think they’ve got our trail?” he asked, his mouth forming a firm line.

“Now, now, don’t tell me you’re afraid of that little old merchant ship. It’s an obnoxious fly but nothing to quake in your boots over,” I teased. “We have the goods, and we escaped. Geoff’s set our course, and sooner than not, that box isn’t our problem anymore. If they pursue, we don’t have it.” I noticed the quick glance to his leg. Injury wasn’t common for him. The man could bench press my weight twice over and outrun most military personnel. He was a top-notch soldier, and even though the bullet only grazed, Jensen wouldn’t take that wound lightly.

“Yank the wind out of your sails,” he said. “You were right there with me. A whole squad to protect a lock box already under alarm and in a high tech safe? It doesn’t add up. If it’s that important, they’ll pursue us like a stripper crawling after a dollar. We’re going to be their primary targets even if we pawn the goods off to someone else. I don’t believe they’ll want to sit down and sip some afternoon tea after we broke into their ship and stole their merchandise. What did Morris have to say?”