Maledictus Aether (11 page)

She gasps and my eyes narrow, my
hand shaking with how tightly I have fisted
it.

“
Never spit in my father’s hono
ur again, or I swear to you, I will make sure you are
publicly shamed to the point that not even the world’s filthiest
tramp would want your hand,” I threaten, jaw clenched. “Now get
out.”

She stands there a moment,
immobile, before huffing and gathering up her skirts, turning her
back to me and walking out. I watch my mother go, seething with
rage.

Elyn walks over to her table
after pushing me back onto my chair, picking up the prosthetic and
her wrench.

“
We can be
sure that she’ll fetch that Friar of hers,” she tells me, walking
over to my left side as quickly as possible. I lose my shirt in
record time, and I help her hold my prosthetic while she aligns it.
“As well as any other man angry at you for what you’ve done. Hold
still, this’ll hurt.”

In one quick motion she connects the nerves of my arm to
the prosthetic, the jolt of pain as agonizing as the first time. I
hold in my scream, focusing on my breathing while she tightens the
screws an
d testing the
movement once she is done.

Content with it, I suit up
again and pull on the gloves, shaking with suppressed anger and
fear.

“
Be cautious,
Kennedy,” Elyn warns, helping me into my tailcoat. I thank her,
buttoning it up before retrieving my borrowed hat – the entire
setup is far too ostentatious for me. “The life of a pirate is
often short-lived, and yours even less so. You’re aware of it, are
you not?”

I look up at her, locking eyes
with her hazel ones and nodding.

“
Aebra’s blessing be with you, lad, and should you ever find
Tier, come find me. I will gladly leave the land behind to offer my
services,” she states, taking hold of my hands and gripping them
tightly. Shouts ring out from the front of the shop, and we both
look towards the source. “They’re here – quick, I’ll lead you to
the back door. Don’t look back.”

She pulls me behind her forge
and past a maze of tin, steel and copper reserves, as the shouts
get louder. We reach a wooden door, the protests echoing around
us.

Elyn is a moment away from
pushing me through when I turn on her and embrace her, my sincerest
thanks in the gesture. She remains immobile a moment before she
thaws, returning the gesture.

“
Cephas would be proud,” she whispers, and I pull back to
look at her more fully. She seems to notice how much those words
mean to me, for she smiles warmly at me before releasing me. I push
open the door, and without a glance back I disappear into the
crowd, intent on leaving London and its frantic
behavio
ur behind.

The sky is my home now.

• VII
  –
  The
  Atlas
  

I shake my arm, the stinging numbness still
making its home on my person. I am
torn between the notion that the idea was good or bad – and I am
not quite sure which one is more accurate.

Regardless of that, I lay out a large sheet of grid paper
on my workstation, pencil already tucked behind my ear as I cross
my arms and regard my canvas. There are three other sheets awaiting
the strokes of my
utensil
that will lead to the design of my ship.

Behind me, in the studio and just beyond the doors of the
drafting room, some of the shipment is being delivered, and Captain
Davis is overseeing it while Fulke’s taking charge of the crew
recru
itment – and,
apparently, there is quite a list being drawn up.

Nevertheless, I ha
ve
been given free reign of this project and total solitude in the
room that’s about the side of the quarters I had back aboard
the
Calypso.
The walls are specially outfitted to
display the various pages of drafts when they will be drawn up, and
I pull out the chair and lower myself onto it, the end of my pencil
between my teeth.

I did a brief study of various older models, both still
functional and scrapped, and took the pros and cons of every design
into consideration. However, for all m
y research, there’s one model I have yet to come
across – as if the very thought of the model is so downright
obvious, it is not the right one.

For a full century, the question has been
what is the most aerodynamic airship
that will give the best outcome, and last the longest?

Naturally, you woul
d
expect a model shaped after the frigates, galleons and other such
sea-worthy ships would be the key.

Logically, that i
s
incorrect. The circumstances are so different; it is ridiculous to
expect that it would be the logical thing to do. On the sea, you
have waves and wind, and are at the mercy of the sea. In an instant
you could sink to her depths, and never be found.

It i
s similar in the
sky, but there is no water. There are clouds and storms, both
electrical and wind, and there is a whole canvas of
space
between you and that water, the fall high enough to kill
you long before you touch the earth. There is the cold and the
moisture, the proximity to the sun and to the atmosphere, the
creatures living in the sky – and it all depends on a handful of
engines and sails of Aether strong enough to keep you
aloft.

Mathematically, the shape that
offers the greatest volume of space for the smallest surface area
is a sphere, yet a spherical ship is impossible to create.

Logically, that leaves with a
shape that will be the closest thing to a sphere – a cylinder, an
oval – that can be recreated.

There’s the question of
visibility as well.

The idea hits me, as I sit and
chew on my pencil, and it almost makes me fall over with the way I
jerk upright. My mind races, the specs coming to me in that very
instant – where the engines should go, the structure, everything –
and I eagerly press the lead to the paper, sketching away.

The task of drawing four views of the ship takes me the
day, labelling every object of note and making a note on the sides
of various things that should be taken into consideration when
building it – both structure-wise and technology-wise. As I work,
I
realise quite a few facts
that I write down for myself, to be looked at later.

When I finish the design plans,
I pull out a fifth sheet and design a whole new kind of engine, one
that is removed from any model currently being used. Mathematically
speaking, no engine currently in use could power such a ship.

So I design my own, using an
example given to me once by a certain Master Gunner going by the
name of Harding.

It i
s well into the
following day when I finish the plans, a mug of coffee beside me
helping me stay awake through the night. I sit back, pencil on the
table as I nurse the hot drink, looking at my creation and
smiling.

I roll up the design plan for the engine and bring it along
with the plans for the ship, walking out to the large, domed room
that will be where
the magic
happens. The Captain is already there, bringing in the last of the
shipment, and calls my name as I hang up the plans on the inner
wall of the hanger. Engineers and carpenters are coming in,
noticing the papers being put up and come to inspect the
plans.

“
That didn’t
take you long,” Captain Davis comments, walking up to stand beside
me. I still hold the plans for the engine in my hands, and I look
up at the sketches being displayed. He does so as well, and frowns.
“Care to explain your logic behind it?”

“
Certainly,” I nod, walking up to the plan that shows the
side view of the ship. With the plans in my hand, I point to the
hull. “The entire thing will be coated with
Aether, from the top to the bottom – excluding
windows, of course.”

The declaration brings about some murmuring from the team,
and I hold up my hand to
quell their concerns.

“
The control room will be here, at the top, the walls made
entirely of glass to allow for a complete view of the surroundings.
This here,” I continue, gesturing to a
metal spire stretching from the top of the control
room, “will collect electricity. Now, the shell itself will be able
to withstand atmospheric pressure and cold, allowing it to rise far
beyond the twenty thousand feet allowed to airships. The Aether
will have to be modified to be able to collect oxygen as well as
water, while still aiding the propellers and rudders in keeping it
aloft.

“
The shape
itself is aerodynamic, and the propellers situated here and here,”
I gesture to the items by the side of the ship, like wings, “will
be able to move, tilting their angle to help facilitate ascent and
movement. The engine itself will be below the control room,
accessed through a hatch – by the way, leave the construction of
the engine to me – and the control room will be accessible through
two ladders.”

“
So you’ve
basically turned the crow’s nest into the helm,” one of the steel
smiths here states, and I nod, pointing at her with my rolled-up
plan for the engine.

“
Right! Glad someone i
s thinking on their feet here,” I say, moving on. “From the
ladders here, it will lead to a walkway that will allow access to
the lower tiers of the ship, the lowermost level for the crew’s
quarters and storage. Above that, the supply rooms will be here, as
will the mess and the kitchen.”

“
W
here’s the
electricity going?” another man asks, and I point to the
engine.

“
In there,” I
reply, and this stirs up a bit of heated discussion. “Hang on! Let
me finish!”

They quiet down, and I wave the
plans in my hands.

“
The
plans for the
engine are in my hand,” I inform them. They nod, still unsure. “The
basics of the engine are that it is powered by electricity and
works on the reserves, allowing on a slighter use of steam – while
still using said steam, offering more power. A regular engine would
be unable to power this ship, let alone fly it – as it is, the
circuitry behind this will test everything you know about
engineering, but I am confident we can get this done. I will need a
handful of men to aid me with the construction of this monster’s
engine, but otherwise, that is it. Any questions?”

“
Here’s one,”
Captain Davis starts, and I arch an eyebrow at him. “Can it
fly?”

I grin at the man, nodding.

“
If my calculations are correct,” I start, resting the end
of the rolled-up plans on my shoulder and my left hand on my hip,
“as they usually are, it’s going to do more than
fly
.”

With that said, we get to work
with a series of cheers.

It takes a little more than a full month to complete the
construction of my ship, the wiring giving us the hardest trouble.
Creating the engine, as they
realise, is far simpler than they had imagined – as I tend
to make designs simple yet effective – and within three weeks the
beast is complete, dominating an entire room to itself, if we were
to shove it in there. We disassemble it and reassemble it in the
cavity of the engine room being constructed, and I pull out the
Electric Storage Device and toss it down to one of the engineers,
instructing him to find me about two dozen, all fully charged.
Wiring the spire down to the storage room takes a while, hiding the
copper within the walls of the hull of the ship. From there, it is
back up to the engine after being connected to every ESD with a
transmitter and stabilizer.

Afterwards, I assist with the creation of a couple more
objects that the journey after Tier requires – such as an
Atmospheric Pressure Gauge, Zenith Probe, Frost
Build-up Detector, and so on.

From there, I help them do the wiring and circuitry,
getting the lights fully functional as the ship is
constructed around us. Then it is
the calibration of the propellers along the side, and the final
step, once everything is fully functional, is the layout of the
Aether and the construction of the walkway along the outer
perimeter of the ship, to allow crewmembers easy access to repair
any tears in the Aether.

When we hit the month and a
half mark, we all stand back and behold the imposing sight of the
ship.

I nod, my cheeks aching with
the grin plastered on my face. Captain Davis rests his large arm
over my shoulders, and I rub the skin by my prosthetic, my bare
skin slick with sweat from the day’s work – all men working on it
are down to their trousers and boots, and the women down to the
lightest fabric they can stand on their bodies, covering their
breasts and little else.

“
So, what’s her name?” h
e questions, and I hold the cloth I have been using to wipe
the dirt and oil from my hands in my grip.

“
The
Atlas
,” I state. I
see his eyebrows shoot up.

“
After the
book, or...?”

“
After the Titan General burdened with holding up the
celestial sphere,” I state. He nods, and the others who helped make
th
is beauty a reality laugh.
“She is strong enough to hold up the sky.”