Wind Dancer: Secret War Steampunk Series - Adventure, Mystery + Mad Science (19 page)

Chapter Thirteen

Wind Dancer
, South China Sea

Abigail woke the next morning with surprisingly little after−effects
from the night before, despite the alcohol. She had fallen asleep thinking
about what the Captain had said to her.

When she applied her balanced scientific view to what he had
said, and stopped being annoyed at how he had said it, she had to admit that
the proposition held merit. She was resolved therefore to find Saira first. Not
finding the Arms-Master in the mess, she learned while eating where Saira was
likely to be. Abigail found she was becoming increasingly comfortable with the
crew of the airship and, she liked to think, they with her. Asking directions
as she went, she soon found herself outside the door of the cargo hold. She
noticed that the door was propped open with a wedge of wood rather than closed,
or ‘dogged’ as they said on the ship. Really, she reflected, why couldn’t they
simply say locked? She pushed through the door, careful to set the wedge again,
and stopped at what she saw when she turned.

The hold was large, almost as large as the engine room filled
with the smell of strange spices overlaying the usual scents of oil, ozone, and
human in the rest of the ship. Along one wall were tiers with barrels and
crates. The large space was lit by a single light tube that vainly attempted to
banish the gloom. But it wasn’t the room’s size that stopped her but rather the
small figure in the center of it.

Saira flowed like water about the room with a slightly curved
long sword in each hand. The blades flashed occasionally as the woman spun,
thrust, and tumbled across the floor, then made an impossible leap, easily
soaring ten feet in the air. She came to a stop, sliding to one knee with both
blades crossed over her head. She spoke without turning towards Abigail.

“Yes, Lady Hadley, what can I do for you,” she asked
formally, not even sounding out of breath.

It took Abigail a moment to answer her, a little surprised at
her formal tone. As a swordswoman herself she could appreciate the deadly
beauty of what she had just seen, even if she was unfamiliar with the style. It
had easily been as stunning as the performance the previous night.

“That was truly beautiful,” she breathed.

Saira flowed to her feet, twirling the swords once, and then
moved towards a towel on a nearby crate. Despite the chill of the hold, she was
barefoot, clad only in cotton pants and a cloth which bound her breasts.

“You are too kind,” Saira said gracefully placing the swords
down on the crate, and picked up the towel. “I rarely get to use the
dalwar,”
she said indicating the swords, “and am sorely out of practice with them.”
She frowned, “My Raishi would not be pleased with me.”

“I would have to say that was quite marvelous,” Abigail said
as she walked into the hold. “I am afraid that I cannot comment on the
specifics of your style though. I only know the rapier.” Saira grinned at her,
draping the towel about her neck.

“Ah, yes,” she said, “Cap’n Will mentioned that earlier. A
woman with a sword is always a beautiful thing.” She took back up the swords,
twisting the hilt of one towards Abigail, “Would you care to dance for a bit?”

“What, now?” Abigail asked in astonishment.

The darker woman shrugged wordlessly. Abigail took the
proffered sword from her, testing its weight. It was slightly heavier than what
she was used to. She took a stance, tried an experimental thrust in the air.
She looked closely at the shining blade, careful not to touch it. “It is a
lovely weapon.” She turned towards Saira, “but I am sure that I could not
follow that style of yours. I would be a poor opponent.” At this, Saira took up
a classic fencing stance, one hand behind her back.

“Then we will follow the style you know,” Saira grinned at
Abigail. “But you must have mercy, as I am not proficient with it.”

Abigail paused, thinking. They had no padding or masks, and
live steel rather than capped foils. In a way, Saira was paying her a
complement, trusting that she, Abigail, was competent enough not to injure
Saira or allow Saira to injure her. Did Abigail share that same trust of Saira?
Laughing, she shrugged out of her jacket, moving into the ready stance.

“En garde, Arms-Master Brighton,” she said to her across the
swords.

“En garde, Lady Hadley,” Saira flowed into first guard, and
Abigail suspected Saira had stretched the truth about the ‘not proficient’
part. Then there was no time for thought, as to Abigail's’ exhilaration, they
danced.

What seemed to her like an endless time later, they paused.
She was extremely pleased to have scored a ‘hit’ on the last pass. Saira had
only ‘killed’ her five times over. The dark woman was truly amazing. Saira
handed her a bottle. She drank the water down thirstily. She was, she
reflected, rather badly out of shape herself.

“That last was very good,” Saira remarked. “Where did you
learn it?’ Abigail laughed, drinking some more.

“The school of desperation,” Abigail answered. She mockingly
extended an arm heaven wards, ‘Have mercy, I am not proficient in it!’ I’ll
learn, when you say something like that.”

“But truly, I am not proficient in it,” Saira protested. “You
would have defeated me easily had you more practice,” she replied seriously.
“Your technique is very good. As for your ‘school’, it would seem to me that it
is a very good teacher,” Saira smiled at her. “How are you with a pistol?”

“Well, my teachers said I was almost as good with an electric
as the sword. Not as good with chemical guns, I am afraid.” Abigail said. She
frowned at the other woman. “Then I assume Captain Will explained why I am
here.” Saira nodded, wiping her face with a towel.

“He told me what he said,” the Arms-Master
replied. “What do you say?” She looked at the Scholar with her piercing blue
eyes. Abagail met them for a moment, then looked off across the hold as if
embarrassed.

“I have thought about it a very great deal.” Abigail paused,
then continued in a rush. “I want a gun,” she said determinedly. “An electric
pistol would be best if that is possible.” She turned towards Saira, a
fierceness lighting her face. “I will not be caught out again,” she said
grimly. “I was trained in arms as every one of my station is, mostly for ‘affairs
of honor’ you know. I never considered that I would actually need to use that
training.” She waved the water bottle. “I can see where I may have been
mistaken.”

“I know that having one would not have prevented my
circumstances when you found me,” she said, “but I can see times when it may.
While I can hardly carry it about like you do those two small swords of yours,
I want the means to defend myself at hand.”

“That is very wise of you, my sister,” Saira said gravely.
She bent to reach for the rest of her clothing. “Let us go up to the armory and
see if we can find a sparkie pistol fit for a lady warrior.” She smiled, as she
pulled on her tunic. “As for carrying it, I have had some ideas.”

“You do? That would be interesting,” Abigail said. They moved
towards the door. Abigail turned to look at her suspiciously, “Would these
‘ideas’ be in keeping with my persona as a Lady Scholar?” Saira flashed her
white teeth, placing a hand on Abigail’s back.

“Oh, I doubt it very much,” the Arms-Master said brightly.

Chapter Fourteen

Captains Day Cabin, Wind Dancer

“I thank you again for your offer,” Will repeated to the
tenth person he’d talked to since using the Farley crystal he’d been given by
the Mouse. “I regret that my instructions are to only place it directly into
the hands of the Venerable One himself.”

He was in his day cabin, feet propped up on the desk with the
speaker horn of the wave in one hand. In the other he held his pipe, which he
occasionally drew on, blowing the smoke overhead. Lawrence Rogers sat across
from him, listening while nursing a mug of tea. To look at him, Rogers thought,
you’d have assumed that this was just another negotiation with a balky customer
rather than the play that made or broke a year’s worth of careful work.

“Impossible,” answered the tinny voice from the speaker
grill. “The Venerable One does not give audience to white foreign devils.” Will
rolled his eyes silently at Rogers.

“Well, I may be foreign,” he shot back, “and I may be an
airdevil, but I’m hardly white.” He took a draw from his pipe and then spoke
more reasonably. “Now look, I have what he needs. I’m willing to do any kind of
meet up he wants within reason. Why don’t we just do it and everyone gets happy?”
There was a long pause, then what sounded like another voice hissed through the
grill.

“Are you the Redman captain they call Hunting Owl, running
the ship called
Wind Dancer
?” it asked.

Both of them winced at the voices’ directness. While popular
theory held that no one should be able to listen in on a Farley wave call with
its matched crystal set, they’d both seen what someone like their own Michael
McGuire could do to that theory. ‘Tapdancers’, as Aetherwave gimickers were
known, could listen in on any conversation with the right effort. Even a
supposedly private one over a Farley crystal like this was supposed to be. It
was for that reason that shady dealings were always understood to be done in
nicknames and round about words. Whoever was on the Aetherwave now was either
being stupid or insulting, or maybe they were drawing them into a trap.

“Who is this?” Will grated back, feet hitting the floor as he
sat upright.

“You will answer the question, or this talk is finished,”
replied the voice. Rogers caught Wills eye in warning, and shook his head no.
Taking a deep breath, Will spoke into the horn.

“Yes, my name if Hunting Owl,” Will replied. “And yes to the
rest too.” Rogers soundlessly threw up his hands in dismay as Will continued.

“Whom am I speaking with, and how do I get to speak with An
Fong?” A longer silence this time, then the same voice answered.

“I am merely An Fong’s humble servant,” the voice said. “You
will be met at the tower, and be taken to where you may meet with him. Please
have your delivery ready to go upon docking. This talk is now ended.”

“Now wait a minute,” Will said back. “There are a few more
things to settle first!” Another long pause, then the voice replied.

“What ‘things’ are those?” the voice asked. Will leaned back
again, smiling over at Rogers,

“Nothing that shouldn’t take more than a moment or two to
settle,” Will said genially. “Now about the number of people I am bringing to
this meet.”

Five minutes later, Will disconnected the wave. “There, that
was pretty easy in the end don’t you think?” He lit his pipe again, billowing
clouds into the room. Rogers merely looked at him skeptically.

“So who else will you take with you?” Rogers asked. Will
waved out the Lucifer stick he had used to fire his pipe while thinking about
it.

“I want you here to come get us if it’s needed,” he said
finally. “Saira and a couple of her best, I’m thinking. Especially someone who
speaks Cantonese, as I never learned it. My Mandarin is good enough I think,
but I’d rather have my own translator.”

“I do not suppose that you would listen to me if I said again
this was foolish,” Rogers said directly.

“It will be fine, Lawrence,” Will said seeking to be
reassuring. He then raised an eyebrow at his First Officer in inquiry.
“Besides, we already talked about this. This is our chance to really get the
dirt on the airships. We
have
to do this!” Rogers folded his arms across
his chest at this, then continued remorselessly.

“Meeting alone with the leader of the largest crime family in
Asia without
Dancer
over your head is not ‘fine’,” he pointed out. “When
I agreed with this, that was the plan. Now you are going to let them take you
where-ever-the-hell to meet this leader. A leader, I might add, whose
reputation for ruthlessness towards foreigners, especially foreigners who
double cross him, is legendary even among our bloodthirsty acquaintances. This
is most certainly not ‘fine’.”

“We are not double crossing him,” Will shot back. “We’re
simply using the delivery to open an exchange of information with him. Besides,
Lawrence, we’ve been over this. If anyone has knowledge of the black raiders’
movements in Asia, it will be someone at An Fong’s level. We
need
to do
this.”

“Do we?” Rogers asked earnestly. “We’ve done a lot of foolish
things over the last five years Will, but this may well be the most foolish
yet. We have developed a quite good network of our own, I might point out. Give
it more time son; we will catch up to them.” Will shook his head and smiled
ruefully at this.

“That’s just it old man, we’re still playing catch up,” Will
said softly. Somehow his father’s gold watch had made its way into his hands.
He stroked its cover absently while he spoke.

“They are too big, too dispersed,” he said. “Hell, it took us
a year just to find out there had to be more than one black airship. Every time
we get a lead, the witness winds up dead, or we are too late to catch the
ships. I’m tired of chasing them Lawrence; we need to try a different angle.”

The ‘Black Airship’ was a legend found in every airdevil
saloon and smoke den from London to Bombay. According to the legend, a huge
ghostly black airship could appear from nowhere, causing any airship unlucky
enough to cross its path to vanish with it, never to be seen again. Plenty of
airships went missing in a given year, mostly unremarked. The world was wide,
and air travel was not safe, simply cheaper and faster than anything else.
Besides raiders, there were storms, equipment failures, any number of things
that could go wrong.

Most thought the Black Airship was a superstition like the
infamous Flying Dutchman of the seas, the product of too much gin and hemp.
William Hunting Owl and Lawrence Rogers both knew the Black Airships were all
too real. They had, in fact, come together five years ago to hunt them down.
Will had lost his father to a black airship and Rogers had been cashiered from
the BAN after an encounter with one left him with a wrecked airship and a dead
crew. They had created
Wind Dancer
solely to hunt the sky-reavers down
with. It had been a wide and winding hunt that not even the ship’s crew knew
about.

“It is an insane risk Will,” the older man said quietly.
“What if it turns out that An Fong is their fence and supplier?”

“I had thought of that”, Will said with a grin. “That’s why I
need you with
Dancer
to come fetch us quick like if things crash on us,”
he tapped his bracer with a finger. “We can keep in touch with this. I am
counting on you to lead a rescue if we need one.” Rogers snorted.

“So the new plan is to rely on a bauble for you to call me on
at need. I will then weave
Wind Dancer
through the streets of Hong Kong
with the local constabulary and half the British Army following in our wake.
Bloody brilliant!” He sighed, casting his eyes towards the wooden ceiling. “At
least we won’t have to add kidnapping a member of the peerage to our crimes.”

“Speaking of which, where is our lady scholar,” Will asked,
in an attempt to change the conversation. Both Rogers and he knew they were
going to go through with the meeting. Lawrence’s objections were part of the
little dance they did, but both knew that they really had come too far to turn
back now. These were the very circumstances that they had manufactured Wind
Dancer’s reputation as not-outlaw, yet not-law abiding either, sort of grey as
it were.

“Last I saw, Arms-Master Brighton and Lady Hadley were just
coming in from target practice off the crow’s nest. They were giggling like a
pair of schoolgirls,” Rogers said disapprovingly. Will nodded in satisfaction
upon hearing this.

“Good,” he said. “That means that Saira must have convinced
her to strap up.”

“That is another matter I wish to discuss with you,” Rogers
said his tone one of mild rebuke. “See here Will,” he began. “Giving arms to a
Lady of the Realm and a British Scholar of all things? Do you really think that
she has anything to do with the underworld? ” Will blew smoke out of his mouth
and set the pipe down on it’s holder on his desk. He folded his hands and
looked at Rogers.

“I honestly don’t know Lawrence,” he said seriously. “If
Mouse says that her father is poking around smugglers you can be sure it’s
true. As for Abigail,” Rogers noted, but didn’t remark on Wills’ use of the
familiar name. “Well, she’s keeping something a secret. Wouldn’t be the first
time someone was drawn into a mess by their parents. Devi likes her, so does
Saira come to that.” He stretched and stood up, “she’s done us a good turn, so
I don’t see as it hurts us to spare her a sparkie at least. Like you though,
I’ll be glad to see her gone.”

“Of course,” Rogers replied blandly. “While we are talking
about women, we really should bring Saira in on the hunt you know. It is about
time, I think.” Will frowned at him.

“I thought that you didn’t approve of Saira, Larry,” he
remarked.

“Oh I quite don’t,” Rogers said dryly. “She’s willful,
disrespectful, shameless, and a host of other things. She is also very, very,
deadly, and manages somehow, to keep ship disciple despite both her attitude,
and her actions.”

“Larry…” Will began. Rogers held up his hand to forestall his
next words.

“Consider it for a moment, William,” Rogers urged. “Do you
really think that she, or any of the crew for that matter, is safer because
they are in the dark about what you and I are really hunting? Will we ask them
to go up against a Black Airship without them knowing? I have not noticed you
doing anything of the sort on any mission we’ve been on with this crew in the
last five years.”

“I don’t know as you can say that the two cases are the
same,” Will replied stiffly. “We both agreed that the fewer that knew, the
safer it would be for them. That’s why only we and Mouse are fully in. We know
what can happen to people who ask the wrong questions about
Them.
They
wind up dead.” Will said seriously. He crossed his arms, letting his pipe go
out.

“When we started this,” he continued, “We thought we were
only dealing with one airship. As we dug, we found out that there had to be
more than one, and that someone, most likely, is running a smart, well
connected operation around the
world.
And what was the price for every
piece of knowledge that I just listed? Someone died, Lawrence,” he said
seriously. “What if someone gets drunk on liberty and lets out that they’re
hunting
Them
? Will they make it back to the ship alive?” Will shook his
head. “I think that we made a smart call to keep it secret.”

“Perhaps so,” Rogers said. “However, I’m beginning to think
it’s time we looked at that decision again. We really didn’t think it through,
William. I wasn’t simply being rhetorical about
Dancer
facing a Black
Airship, it could happen. God help us if we do, as we’ll be so outclassed we’ll
be lucky to soil our breaches before we’re dead. But we should consider the
possibility.”

“I know we’ve always thought in terms of finding some proof
that we could take before the BAN, or if necessary the Allied Expeditionary
Force, not that either of us think much of the AEF anymore.” Rogers looked at
Will tiredly. “Frankly, I am not sure now what proof we could find to convince
either organization that we weren’t simply barking.”

“So what are you saying Lawrence,” Will asked softly, “That
we should just give up?”

“No, far from it,” the First Officer
said, crossing his own arms. “To be perfectly frank, I too, am getting tired of
‘catch up’ as you put it. I am proposing that we look at this as we would a
military problem, not a police problem. We have created a fine military
instrument here, with the
Wind Dancer
. I believe we can trust Brighton.
For that matter I believe we can trust the rest of the crew at this point. I
doubt that we have any enemy agents among them; some honestly will not care who
they fight so long as there’s money to be made. A wise general doesn’t leave
his troops in the dark about the real mission, does he?”

“Maybe so,” Will allowed. He looked at Rogers searchingly.
“Where is this sudden change coming from Lawrence?”

“I have a feeling,” Rogers said, quoting one of Wills
favorite responses. Will raised an eyebrow at that.

“Really?” Will asked. Whenever he said that, it meant that
Will had received a message from the Spirit Realms. So far as he knew, Rogers
was simply a cynical blind man about such things.

“Well, why shouldn’t I?” Rogers said testily. “You and that
knife wielding witch do so all the time.”

“Yes,” Will said solemnly, though his eyes sparkled, “But,
well, you are English, Lawrence.” There came a discreet knock at the door. Will
sang out for the knocker to enter and Arms-Master Brighton looked around the
door.

“Oh,” she said, “I shall return when you are not busy Cap’n,”
she said, beginning to leave.

“No, wait,” Will said to her easily. “Come on in if you have
a minute, you’ll save me calling a staff meeting. I was just going over with
Rogers our strategy for dealing with An Fong when we make landfall.” The Hindu
warrior nodded, entering the cabin and closing the door behind her.