Rising Tide (18 page)

“Ben, who is this?” Miranda asks.

“Miranda, this is Sarah. She helped us get the pumps that Mal needed.”

Miranda nods.

“Miranda, what are you doing here?” I ask.

“I'm getting you out of here,” she says. “Now.” She turns and moves back to the door.

I start moving toward the door, then grab Miranda's hand. “We should take her with us,” I say, indicating Sarah.

Miranda looks at me questioningly.

“She helped us out. Got us out of a serious bind. I don't know that I feel comfortable leaving her behind here with Mal.”

“Does she want to go?” Miranda asks. Then to Sarah, “Do you?”

Sarah eyes Miranda skeptically. “Are you sure you can get off of this ship?” she asks.

“Yes,” Miranda says. No hesitation. No doubt in her voice.

“And I'll be free to go my own way? When I want to?”

“Of course,” I say.

Sarah looks first at me, then at Miranda and back again.

“We don't have much time,” Miranda hisses. “We have to move now.”

“Mal doesn't know you,” I say to Sarah. “I can't guarantee he'll give you a fair shake. Come with us.”

Sarah looks like she's going to say something, but then she just nods. “Okay. Let's go.”

As we move through the door and up into the ship, I ask Miranda, “Where exactly are we going?”

“Up,” she says. “Now keep quiet.”

I follow closely behind her as she navigates the stairs and corridors of the ship. My feet and legs are still wet, but it feels good not to have water splashing around my knees. I must smell awful, though.

Miranda's difficult to keep up with. She seems on a mission. “You must have some plan to get us off of this ship.”

She smiles and opens the door to the deck of the
Phoenix
. “Follow me,” she says.

“Be careful,” Miranda says as she creeps onto the deck. “A lot of Malik's people moved back to the airships because of the sinking, but there still might be guards around.”

“Or Mal,” I say.

She giggles, which seems completely out of place. I don't know if I've ever heard Miranda giggle. “No,” she says. “He won't be coming.”

I frown. “What happened?”

“I'll tell you later. First, I'm going to dazzle you.”

“Have you been drinking, Miranda?”

“Shush.”

She leads us across the deck. It's dark outside, night. I can smell the water, hear the waves lap at the side of the ship. Also the creaking of the deck. I can almost imagine that we're on some abandoned hulk floating in the ocean. Almost.

“Here,” Miranda says. She grabs me and pulls me forward. Ahead, lines secure an airship to the
Phoenix
's deck. A ladder hangs down from it, and Miranda pulls it toward us.

I look up, trying to see the airship there, but it's difficult to make out. Of course, it's dark and the moon is largely hidden by clouds.

“Climb,” Miranda says.

“Where are we going?” I ask. Miranda's drawing breath when the drone of an airship engine hits my ears, growing steadily louder, and lights start illuminating the opposite end of the ship. Another airship coming home to drop off its passengers.

“Climb!” Miranda says, half whisper, half hiss.

I climb. Moving as quickly as I can. My limbs are still recovering from their immersion in the cold water, but adrenaline kicks in, propelling me upward.

I feel the settling of the ladder after I'm up a ways, the feeling of someone else climbing beneath me—Sarah or Miranda. Above me is a strange airship. How Miranda got to it, I don't know. Maybe she just got lucky. But is there anyone on board? Surely she would have told me.

Even as I get closer, I can't make out much about it. There aren't lights on it, which makes a kind of sense. Lights might make it a target for enemy ships. Even with the
Phoenix
's artillery, it wouldn't make sense to call attention it.

And yet, as I climb up to an unknown ship, possibly crewed by hostile people, all I can think is
God, how I've missed being in the sky
.

When I get to the top, I can see that the ladder leads into a hatch inside the gondola. It's also dark, but I can feel my way around the edge and tell that it's secure for me to climb up into. So I do that and scoot myself inward and then pull up Sarah (I can tell by her breathing and the way she smells—oily and wet like me) up alongside me. Then Miranda is up. She scoots around to one side and I hear something click, and then the ladder starts to retract up into the ship. Only when it's completely retracted does she press something else, closing the hatch beneath us. One final switch or lever brings the lights up inside the ship.

“Welcome to the
Argus
,” Miranda says.

“Mal's ship?” I ask, remembering what Chang had said.

She nods.

“Is he here?”

Miranda shakes her head. “He's still down on the
Phoenix
.”

I hold up my hands. “None of this makes sense. You're going to have to explain all of this.”

“Fine,” she says. “As much as you want. But we have to get out of here first. Before they figure it out.”

I look to Sarah. “You know anything about airships?”

“Not a thing,” she says. “I've just ridden on them.”

“Okay, then. You find a place to stash yourself. Stay out of my way, okay?”

She nods moves off deeper into the ship.

“I'll be right back,” Miranda says. “Going to detach the anchor.”

“You know your way around this ship?” I ask.

“Better than you,” she says, before disappearing through a door at the back of the gondola, leaving me alone.

The
Argus
's gondola is mostly dominated by a central bank of consoles with a series of intact black screens in a grid pattern at its center. Three seats surround the central area.

I'm figuring out which seat I need to sit in to fly this thing when my back explodes in pain, right in the area of my right kidney. I feel a hand on the back of my head and it slams my face down toward the console in front of me.

I manage to brace my hands against the console, so instead my face and nose smack hard into my knuckles and I see white for a moment.

Pushing down with my left hand, I swivel right, aiming my elbow back. It connects with something, but a knee takes me in the belly and a fist glances off my jaw.

I push back with both arms to get some breathing room and see that my attacker is a pale man, thin and blond, wearing some kind of blue, one-piece uniform from the Clean. He doesn't give me much time to look, though, because he comes back at me with fists swinging. I hold up my arms to protect my face and catch a fist on the forearm, then one on my shoulder.

This has to stop.

I arc forward, leading with my head, but he drops back, which is okay because I keep going, thrusting forward with both of my fists, colliding with him and slamming him up against the wall of the gondola. I pummel him in the midsection, getting a good blow into his solar plexus, which makes him choke. Then I grab him and smack him back against the wall again. The back of his head hits hard.

Then I hear Miranda's voice—“Ben!”

I spare a moment to look and see her toss me something small and black. I catch it just after realizing that it's my father's revolver. By the time my attacker is recovering, I have the revolver pressed against his chest.

“Stop,” I say.

He freezes, his hands flapping at his sides like flags. “Don't shoot.”

“Don't move and I won't have to.”

“What are you going to do with him?” Miranda asks.

“Sarah!” I call. She appears a moment later. “See if the cargo area has any life jackets.”

She raises her eyebrows but goes to check. She returns a few minutes later and nods.

“Good,” I say. “You and Miranda are going to take our friend here back with you and fit him with one. Then, when I take us out from over this boat, you're going to push him out of the ship.”

The man's eyes widen.

“Don't worry,” I say. “You should survive.”

Miranda looks at me questioningly.

“I'll take the ship lower,” I say.

“Miranda, take the revolver,” I say. Sarah is better with one—she's had more training, but the thing is I don't trust her. Miranda takes the revolver, keeping it level on Mal's man. “C'mon,” she says, waving him toward the back of the gondola.

I wipe the blood from my nose and turn back to the series of seats, wincing at the pain where the man hit me.

Miranda points to one corner of the console with her free hand. “Flight controls are over there.”

“That's just what I thought,” I said, settling into the seat. The setup looks fairly simple to operate. Simple steering yoke, throttle controls, rudders, and so on. I look out of the windows of the gondola and can't make out much outside of the moonlight. Have to worry about the lights later.

It's my first time at the controls of a ship since the
Cherub
exploded over both of our heads. “Hello,” I say to the ship. “Let's be friends.” Then I fire her up and grab hold of the yoke.

Easy now, Ben
, I tell myself. I want to tear away from the ship, at whatever top speed this ship is capable of, but it's best to ease out. Not draw undue attention to ourselves. I remember the five other ships I saw on entry with the
Raven
. Six ships, I correct, including Whistler's. All flying close.

I pull out and let us drop closer to the water. It will let Miranda and Sarah do what they need to do and also hopefully will let the
Phoenix
help break up our shape.

It's achingly slow, but I keep her steady.

Then Miranda and Sarah return to the gondola. Miranda stands by me and Sarah falls into an old, worn chair covered in pitted and ripped plastic.

“You got rid of our extra weight?” I ask.

“Yes, sir,” Sarah says.

“He should live,” Miranda says. “Though he's going to raise a fuss on the boat.”

“Then I should pick up some speed,” I say. “How do you turn the lights on?”

“No,” Miranda says. “No lights.” She walks over to me, leans down, and switches on a screen set into the consol. It comes to life in brilliant light. Circles of light. It pulses.

“Is this . . .”

“Radar,” she says. “C'mon, Ben. Take us out.”

I look at the radar display and see several bright dots, which I assume are the other ships. I've heard of radar, of course, but I haven't ever used it before. Most ships had them back in the Clean, but maintenance was difficult, and on most ships they broke down. Mal must be the luckiest bastard in the world to find a ship like this. Not to mention the
Phoenix
down below us.

“What kind of ship is this?” I ask out loud.

“Surveillance,” Miranda says. “Hence all the screens.”

Makes sense
, I think. Right now, though, all I care about is putting as much distance as I can between us and Mal.

It takes just a few minutes of movement for the feeling to settle over me. This is it. This is where I belong. Where I should be. Not in a cell. Not on a ship. Not on the ground. I belong on an airship.
Flying
an airship.

This is what I'm meant for.

Of course I'm aware that this isn't mine. That this isn't the
Cherub
. But the
Cherub
is dead. I killed her.

“Miranda,” I say. “You got us out. You did it.” I had been racking my brain for a way to get us out and Miranda did it. “Thank you,” I say. I realize right then how I was dreading being returned to my cell.

“We're not clear yet,” Miranda says. “I did my part. The next step is all yours.”

I continue to pull away from the
Phoenix
, accelerating ever so slightly while also increasing our elevation. “Mal is not going to be happy,” I say.

“It won't change much,” she says. “He'll still hate you. He'll just hate me, too.” She shrugs. “We have somewhere we need to be. People who depend on us. People who might be in danger. We needed wings. I got them for us.”

She's absolutely right about that, and hearing her say that, the way that she says it, makes something swell in my chest. I want to grab her and kiss her right now.

Then I think of what she just said. “Did he . . . did he tell you why he hates me?”

“He told me enough,” she says. “He says you left him for dead.”

I think of that vision of Mal splattered in blood as Tess, Claudia, and I pulled away in the Beast. How our eyes locked.

I consider lying. Just for a split-second. But for some reason I can't. “It's the truth.”

I can't look at her. I know it for the cowardice that it is, but I still can't look.