Skykeep (10 page)

Coop holstered his weapon and ran to the
rubble, heaving and tugging at the first boulder he could reach. It
didn’t budge. The safety officer cast the light of his helmet at
the ceiling above them.

“This is bad. A partial cave-in already.
We’ve got to get a support crew in here to shore this roof up. And
a rescue crew to clear the rubble.” He turned and called to the
entrance at a carefully moderated level, to avoid further risk of
collapse, “Rescue and recovery. Now.”

“Coop, leave it,” Mack said.

“But Lil!” he cried, tears in his eyes. “And
Nita!”

“Nothing you can do cutting your hands up on
a stone you can’t move,” the captain said.

Gunner searched the walls and ground,
stopping when he came to the remnants of the door, some distance
away. Mack sniffed the air. Gunner did the same. They cast a
meaningful look at each other. Gunner then looked to the remains of
the door again, leaning low to scrutinize it.

“Matthews, what’d you hear again?”

“An explosion.”

“That’s all you heard. Just an
explosion?”

“That’s all.”

Gunner nodded and turned back to the door. He
planted a foot on it and levered a piece of it free, slipping it
into an inner pocket of his jacket.

“Anyone want to tell me why I’m getting a
whiff of fug?” Mack said.

“It’s shaft seven,” the safety officer said.
“There’s a leak near the low point. We decommissioned the shaft
before we could deal with it.”

Mack paced over to the wall and looked over
the crumbled edge and the ruptured pipe there. A crew began to file
into the alcove with picks, timbers, ladders, and lights.

“Captain, I must firmly request that you and
your crew leave us to our work. When we find your crew, alive or
dead, you will be alerted.”

“You’re going to look into this. What caused
it and such,” Mack said. It wasn’t a request; it was an order.

“All mine incidents are investigated,
Captain.”

“Then I think we’ve got all we’re going to
get. Everyone, we’re going back to the
Wind Breaker
.”

“Captain, I ain’t going nowhere until they
find Lil,” Coop said.

“Coop, look around you. I’m here, you’re
here. Gunner and Glinda are here. There’s no one watching the
Wind Breaker
. Your first duty is to that ship. Now you will
follow orders, understood?”

Coop and Mack stared each other down for a
tense few seconds. “Aye, Cap’n.”

The crew formed up and filed out, throwing
down the tags as they exited. The mayor walked quickly along beside
them.

“Of course you have my deepest
sympathies.”

“Keep ’em,” the captain rumbled.

“If there is anything the people of Lock can
do—”

“You can find out exactly what happened, and
you can find my crew,” he said.

“Yes, of course. Of course!” the mayor said,
falling behind and finally stopping to issue orders to his
underlings.

Most of the town was still clustered around
the mine courtyard, parting only to allow the crew through. What
few stragglers there were seemed to scatter and disappear into the
crowd at the approach of the crew. Before long they were the only
ones on the catwalks, moving quickly to their ship. The ladder was
still down, an uncharacteristic oversight on the part of Gunner and
Butch, the two crewmen who had been aboard at the time of the
explosion.

“Report, now!” Mack bellowed into the ship,
his order intended for Wink. “Coop, inside. Full ship check. You
find anything alive, you make sure it doesn’t stay that way.”

The inspector appeared at the top of the
ladder instantly, looking down to the pier while Coop worked his
way up. Wink reached down and started drumming at the top rung of
the ladder.

There were men. They had knives. They cut the
mooring ropes. They did not finish. The crew came and the men
jumped off the pier, Wink tapped.

Gunner ran to the edge and peered over. He
dropped to the planks of the pier and reached underneath, snagging
a loose rope and pulling it up.

“There is a rope tied to the supports under
the pier. And someone was definitely working at cutting the mooring
ropes,” Gunner said. “If they got under the pier and into the
supports for the town, they could be anywhere by now.”

“All aboard,” the captain said. “This whole
situation is wrong. Every last part of it.”

#

The crew had gathered in the galley. Mack was
standing, leaning heavily on a table with his eyes cast down. The
others were also on their feet, looking to him expectantly.

“I want everyone to listen to what I have to
say. Until that rescue crew shows us two bodies, this is still a
crew of seven. No one is mourning, no one is seeking revenge. That
understood?” he said.

“Aye, Captain,” was the universal reply, Coop
notably more reluctant than the rest.

“Good. Any of us in our right mind just now
probably noticed that nothing about this adds up. I may as well
start. Them pipes there on the wall? They were gas lights. Anybody
smell any gas?”

“No, Captain.”

“No. That place should have been blazing or
stinking of gas, and it was neither. Someone could have shut it off
after the blast, but we still would have smelled it. So either they
had them girls working in the dark, or by the light of them
helmets, or someone shut off the gas at the source before the place
blew. And that don’t sound like an accident.”

“That’s not the half of it, Captain,” Gunner
said. He pulled the shard of door from his jacket and dropped it on
the table. It was the portion of the door containing the lock.
“Take a whiff. Does anyone else get a hint of something sharp.
Something with a touch of char, and the stink of lamp oil?”

“There’s a bit of it, yes,” Mack said.

“That’s explosive. Or what’s left of it when
it goes off.”

“You’re sure?” Coop said.

“Half of my wardrobe smells like that. Trust
me. I’m familiar with the aftermath of a good explosion.”

“But we already knew the thing exploded,”
Coop said.

“They’d have us believe the
boiler
exploded. A steam explosion is nothing but water and debris. There
wouldn’t be any of this stink. At least, not if the boiler blew on
its own.”

“And this isn’t the sort of thing they might
put in the firebox,” Mack said.

“Not unless they wanted it to detonate,”
Gunner assured him. “And I’ll tell you this. Matthews is either
deaf or a liar.” He pointed the lock. “That’s a bullet hole. If we
dig around in there, I bet we’ll find a bullet. Unless miners
routinely unload revolvers into locks, I’d say Lil fired a
shot.”

“And Matthews said all he heard was an
explosion. No gunshot,” Mack said.

“So that suit-wearing snake had something to
do with this!” Coop fumed. “I’ll kill him!”

“No, Coop. You’ll stay here and keep guard of
the ship.”

“But—”

“You questioning my orders, crewman?” Mack
asked, his voice steady, but with an edge of reprimand.

Coop was practically shaking. “No,
Cap’n.”

“Then you will guard the ship with Glinda and
Wink. Gunner, you find Matthews and keep an eye on him. Get ready
to ask some questions and motivate him to answer good and proper.
I’ll have a word with the mayor. Find out what we can about him.
And I want all of you to keep your eyes open. This ain’t over by a
long shot.”

All filed toward the door to fulfill their
orders. Coop stopped Captain Mack with a hand to the shoulder.

“Cap’n,” he said.

“Yes?”

“I know we’re a crew of seven… even if I’m
still not sure Wink oughta count as one, but… you reckon we’re
going to be saying any prayers at breakfast?” he asked, his voice
shaking with a potent mix of emotions.

“Times like this, Coop, the question you
should be asking is how many other folks are going to be saying
prayers tomorrow. Because however this turns out, somebody’s
wearing black come sunup.”

A well-dressed but rather shaken gentleman sat at the
bar of a small pub near the edge of Lock. One could easily dismiss
his rattled appearance from his proximity to the explosion in the
mine a few hours earlier, but based on his frequent anxious glances
over his shoulder, he was either concerned about a second explosion
sneaking up on him, or he had other things on his mind.

“Henry, are you sure there isn’t another
ferry? Something sooner?” Matthews asked, thumping down his shot
glass for a third refill.

“You asked six times, James,” said the
bartender, reaching for a bottle. “You know the six o’clock to
Clemens Isle is just about the only passenger boat leaving today.
What’s got you so jumpy?”

“I just… I just want to get away for a bit.
The mountain almost came down on my head today.”

The pub was rather empty. It was the second
of two such establishments in a town not quite large enough to
support such an arrangement, but there was inevitably someone who
had been thrown out of the first pub before he or she had reached
the desired level of inebriation. These scraps were Henry the
bartender’s bread and butter, and right now in addition to Matthews
there were two more patrons at the bar and one at a table.

The door opened, and both Henry and Matthews
looked up.

“Ah, splendid. Just the man I was hoping to
see,” said Gunner from the doorway. His voice was oozing with false
politeness.

Matthews turned back to his drink and gulped
it down, thumping the glass on the bar again. Gunner sauntered over
and sat beside Matthews. His long coat was open, revealing three
progressively more threatening weapons strapped to his chest, belt,
and thigh.

“You’re… you’re one of the
Wind
Breaker
crew!” Henry said, a wide smile coming to his face.
“You knocked out the dreadnought! By gum, we’ve got a certified
celebrity in our midst!”

There was a halfhearted murmur of
appreciation from the rest of the clientele, its lack of enthusiasm
having more to do with the veil of alcohol than anything else.

“Which one are you again?” Henry said.

“Guy von Cleef. You’d likely know me as
Gunner.”

“Right, right. Gunner. Listen, I heard what
happened in the mine. It’s a damn shame what happened to your
crewmates, but I want you to know that we all appreciate that they
were trying to help us out when it happened.” He set out a glass
and filled it with a hearty ale. “Here you go. On the house.”

“Many thanks, good barkeep,” Gunner said. He
took a sip, then turned to Matthews. “What about you, Matthews?
Have
you
got any sympathy for me today.”

“Yes, yes as I said before, we are all sorry
for your loss.”

“Well, it isn’t a loss
yet.
Not for
certain,” Gunner said. “The rescue crew is hard at work, but that’s
a lot of rubble to sort through. Funny thing, Matthews. They’ve got
the rescue dogs in the mine, sniffing away, trying to find where
the crew should dig. Doesn’t seem like they can catch a whiff of
anything.”

“The dogs aren’t always able to catch a
scent. Airflow in a mine is tricky. Especially after an
explosion.”

“No doubt, no doubt,” Gunner said with a nod,
taking another sip. “Do you remember the explosion, Matthews?”

“How can I forget?”

“Yes, certainly. A thing like that burns
itself into one’s mind. I’ve had more than a few similar scares,
I’m sure you’re aware. Tell me, what did it sound like, what did it
look like?”

“I’ve said. There was a thunderous sound, and
a rush of dust and steam.”

“Mmm. Yes. That
is
what you said. A
thunderous sound. Just one? Not perhaps a smaller sound first?”

“Just one burst.”

“And no flash of light to go with the
explosion?”

“Just dust and debris. And steam.”

Gunner nodded again and sipped some more.
“People are looking for you, you know. The doctors wanted to know
if you were all right.”

“I’m fine. Nothing to worry about. They
should focus on finding your crewmates.”

“Are you certain you’re well enough? It would
be a real tragedy if you had an injury you didn’t notice. Your
hearing, for instance. An explosion in a mine can be quite
detrimental to one’s ears.”

“I’ve got a bit of a ringing, but I can hear
well enough.”

“Never can be too careful about that,” Gunner
finished his ale. “I’ll tell you what. Join me outside for a
moment. Let’s have a quick hearing test.”

“That really isn’t…”

Gunner pulled back his coat a bit more to
reach into his pocket, revealing two more holsters with similarly
threatening contents. He fished out a few coins and threw them on
the bar. “For my friend’s latest drink.”

“Really, sir,” Matthews said. “That isn’t
necessary. And I don’t need a hearing test.”

“Nonsense. I insist,” Gunner said, adding in
a more ominous tone, “On both counts.”

Matthews looked to Gunner, an unreadable
expression on the latter man’s face.

“I really would rather not step away at the
moment,” Matthews said.

“Very well, we can do it in here,” Gunner
said.

In a smooth, practiced motion he drew a
pistol from one of his many holsters, cocked it, and fired it into
the floorboards. The sound was painfully loud, startling all of the
patrons and prompting a few passersby to look curiously inside.

“Did everyone hear that?” Gunner asked
innocently.

“Of course we all heard that. You nearly
deafened us!” Henry growled. “Just what are you trying to do,
firing that thing in my pub?”

“And you, Matthews?” Gunner asked calmly,
placing the revolver on the bar, its barrel pointed at the man’s
chest. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes. Of course,” Matthews said.

“Rather loud indoors, isn’t it?” Gunner
remarked.

“Very.”