Wind Dancer: Secret War Steampunk Series - Adventure, Mystery + Mad Science (9 page)

“He’s fired the ship,” Will yelled, while waving his arms.
“Start moving towards the lift!”

Saira came up out of the hold with Tikku behind her.

“Cap’n!” She shouted. “We’ve found the strong room! We cannot
open it though.”

Will held up the key, “Where is it?” he shouted. Pointing the
way, Saira led the three of them down the ramp to a large door with thick iron
bands and a strong lock.

Will shoved the key into the lock. It turned, with a click.
They pulled open the heavy door, and stopped in amazement.

Inside stood a white woman with red hair, dressed as a
European toff. She stood up straight and looked at them without fear, a length
of chain ready at her side.

“I,” she announced, “am Lady Abigail Hadley, Royal Scholar of
the British Empire. If you aid in my release, I am sure that you may be
rewarded.”

Will took in the bucket in the corner, the unkempt state of
her dress, and figured she was a captive. He swore to himself in as many
languages as he knew. Was she going to go hysterical on him? The last thing he
needed was to have to mollycoddle some Brit aristo. Hadley? Was she who the
damned Scholar had been riling up the Spider? He noticed a Scholar’s badge on
the lapel of her jacket. He bowed sardonically, his revolver waving to one
side.

“Well, Lady Abigail Hadley, of the British Empire,” he said
to her, “if you’ll kindly step out of that strong room so we can loot it, I’m
sure we can oblige you somehow. But if you don’t drop that chain, we can always
just shoot you now.” Saira and Tikku shared a glance, their eyes rolling at
Will’s speech. They both knew he would never do any such thing to any prisoner
of Hu Fan’s. The aristocratic woman’s shoulders slumped. She slowly dropped the
chain she had been holding, and came towards them on unsteady legs. Will held
out a one hand offering to steady her, the other pointing his gun at her.

“It’s alright,” he said in what he hoped was a more soothing
tone. He
really
didn’t have time for this. The ship lurched. Lady Hadley
grabbed a hold of the door frame to steady herself at the same moment that Will
did. “I promise that neither me nor mine will harm you,” He continued as
patiently as he could, “but we really need to move right quickly here. The
ship’s on fire you see.” With a startled look, the woman came out more quickly,
ignoring Wills hand. He waved towards Saira. “Saira, take her top side to my
day cabin. See that she’s alright, and stay with her.” He raised his eyebrow in
silent order.

Saira nodded at Will in understanding. If the woman was
playing some kind of deep game, Saira might be able to ferret it out with her
powers. If she was a victim, and had been brutalized, she was the best person on
board to help her. She took the Englishwoman gently by the arm.

“Come on now,” she said as gently as she could, let’s get you
out of here.” She held out a hand towards her which again Abigail shrugged off.
The Englishwoman turned back to Will.

“There was an Englishman named Thaddeus Kane aboard, “she
demanded, “Is he among you?” Will raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Sorry to say, we found no Englishmen.” He went on more
softly, hoping she wouldn’t faint or something. “Chances are Hu Fan killed him
already.” Her eyes lit with a fire that Will hadn’t expected to see.

“Good. Then I won’t have to kill him myself.” She turned to
Saira, “lead the way, thank you.”

Will watched them ascend the ramp. Another bloody aristo
savant named Hadley? Not too damn likely. Well, he thought, one thing at a
time. He turned back to the contents of the room and pointed.

“That one Tikku! Handle it gently like over to me.”

~~~

Abigail stood blinking in the sunlight. The woman next to her
was a touch shorter than herself. She had very short black hair and was clearly
some sort of Hindu half−caste. She wore the same black suit as the
others, with a rifle slung across her back, two very long knives at her belt
and a pair of goggles shoved up on her forehead. To Abigail’s amazement, she
began undoing the frogs of her tunic, showing a very ample, and very bare,
bosom. The woman took a deep breath, and sighed.

“Ah, fresh air is good.”

Abigail took a breath herself, and nearly choked. The air
held an almost impossible stench, doubtless caused by the many dead bodies that
littered the deck and the black ominous smoke billowing from the rear of the
ship, which did indeed appear to be on fire. Whoever her saviors were, they
were deadly people indeed. She looked up, and saw the bulk of an airship
overhead. There were lines of rope leading from the deck up into the dark maw
of the ship. As she watched, a man holding onto one was pulled quickly up into
its depths.

“This way Lady Hadley,” the woman gestured them towards the
ropes. “My name is Saira by the way, Saira Brighton.” She gently extended her
kalas
,
sensing the innocent wariness of an animal feeling trapped. “I hope things
haven’t been too bad for you,” she said, looking at the British woman
carefully. “We do have healing means on board if you need them.” Her voice, Abigail
judged, held only genuine concern as she took her double meaning. She shook her
head at the woman.

“No thank you, Saira. Did I get that right?” She pronounced
it
Sigh-ra
as she thought she had heard it. Saira nodded at her,
continuing to weave her spirit magic on the unsuspecting woman. The intent was
only to get her to feel relaxed with Saira, and so required a more subtle mind
touch than something such as she had used on Smeadly.

“I mean to say while there were bad things,” Abigail
continued, “there was no bad in that sense.” Her face grimaced. “Fortunate I
suppose, although I was left with the sense that it was more of the ‘don’t
bruise the fruit, so we can’t sell it,’ than any good fortune. Horrible feeling
in its own way,” She shook her head, as if to clear it. “I do beg your pardon
for going on.” She stopped, looking at the woman, and tried on a smile. With
the ship on fire, she judged she had no choice but to go along with these
people if they would have her. Doubtless the waters were full of sharks. At
least they acted more politely than her last captors. “Please call me Abigail,
Lady Hadley was my mother.” Saira smiled at this.

“Right then, Abigail,” Saira said. “We will get you up
topside, and have a nice cup of tea. You are not afraid of heights I hope?”
They had reached the ropes. Abigail looked up and swallowed. It looked a long
ways up.

“No, not as such,” she said. “Although, I am afraid though
that I am not familiar with this means of transport.” The woman, Saira, grabbed
a rope and was attaching a hook to a ring on her belt. She then placed one foot
into a stirrup, and held out her arms towards Abigail.

“Oh, that is as no mind, really,” Saira said reassuringly,
“All you have to do is place your foot on top of mine and wrap your arms around
me very tight.” Abigail attempted to follow these instructions only to have the
woman pull her even tighter to her. Beneath the sweat, Saira, smelled of spice
and incense. Abigail hated to think what she must smell like given the
privations of her voyage, although Saira did not seem bothered by it. While Abigail
had appreciated the charms of her own sex in the past, she found her current
thoughts puzzling at best. It must be a form of shock she decided. After all,
it wasn’t every day one went from being kidnapped by pirates only to being rescued
by other pirates.

“There we are, Abigail,” Saira said softly to her. Realizing
that she was about to be pulled some hundreds of feet up into the air, she
pulled the Hindu woman even closer and swallowed.

“Saira,” she asked in a small voice, “does anyone ever fall
off?”

“Not while I hold them,” Saira reassured her. Before Abigail
could think better of it, Saira suddenly pulled on the rope. They were hurled
upwards at an incredible speed before Abigail could catch her breath. Saira
deftly swung the two of them over and onto the deck of the hold, Abigail still
clinging to her tightly. Saira laughed.

“You can let go now, Abigail,” she assured the woman. “It’s
safe.” Abigail disentangled herself quickly, looking first at the other woman,
then down at the ship far below. She swallowed, seeking to steady her
breathing.

“Well,” Abigail said blandly, I must say that now I have
literally been swept off my feet.” Saira’s face was a momentary study in
surprise. Then she laughed out loud, as did the others in the bay who heard
Abigail's remark.

“You are a bit alright, Abigail,” Saira proclaimed as she
unhooked her belt, She shook the line free, and draped it back over the open
hatch. Abigail watch as the line was lowered again, and then looked up attempting
to discern the mechanism.

“Electric pulleys, very efficient, “she nodded approvingly.

“Well,” Saira said with a shrug, “They do the job. Come on,” she
smiled at Abigail, “tea is this way.”

Chapter Eight

Wind Dancer, over the Indian Ocean

Saira watched the woman eat another bowl of the soup that
was always available in the mess.
She sat across from her in Cap’n
Will’s day cabin, inclined to think that Lady Hadley was who she said she was.
Clearly she hadn’t eaten much for some time, yet still ate with manners suited
for a toff dinner party. Hard to play act that. As Abigail daintily finished,
Saira pushed the tea mug across the table to her.

“There, feeling somewhat better?” She asked with true
sympathy. Saira had known hunger and the fear of captivity herself at one time.

“Yes, thank you,” Abigail replied. “I can’t say when I’ve
eaten a more delicious soup.” Abigail picked up the mug with now steady hands.
She looked around the cabin. Everything she had seen so far was clean and very
tidy, even the corridors. That didn’t mean anything of course. Perhaps they
were simply tidy bloodthirsty killers.

The cabin itself seemed an eclectic mix of souvenirs from far
off places. Little statues of strange gods stood over a pigeon−holed
section of wall that doubtless held maps, next to a bookcase full of old
volumes. The chairs were of a light cane weave, quite comfortable, although
oddly enough bolted in place on the floor.

Abigail thought to herself, if she could get the other woman
talking, maybe she could better ascertain her situation. That the crew of the
ship were capable of violence was clear. Who were they? What did they intend
with her?

“I hadn’t realized that an airship like this would have so
much room inside it,” Abagail remarked. Saira sipped her own tea, all the while
extending her senses to read the woman’s aura for signs of any deception. She
was becoming more deeply in rapport.

“Well,” she said, “the Dancer is plenty roomy, not as roomy
as a merchant ship, where people have their families, or a dreadnought where
there’s a mile or more of space. Story is that she was originally some
warlord’s toy, more ground support frigate than cruiser really, for all that
she is as big as one. She carries no heavy broadsides you see?” here Saira
smiled evilly. “That has led more than one raider to underestimate us.”

“I see,” Abigail remarked. The other woman looked to be about
her age, yet she spoke much as she had heard the old veterans talking in the
pubs. “You sound as if you know ships well. What exactly do you do aboard, if I
may ask? I assume that you don’t fight all the time.”

“Of course, you may ask, I’m the ships Arms-Master.” Saira
smiled at her, feeling their auras touching. A few more sentences and she would
be attuned enough to know if the Englishwoman lied when she spoke, without the
Brit ever being aware of Saira’s ability.

“I’m sorry,” Abigail frowned, “but I’m afraid I don’t know
what that means.”

“It means that I am the chief fighter, so, yes, I ‘fight all
the time’ as you say.” Seeing Abigail’s surprise, Saira laughed. “I lead those
who go on boarding raids such as we did today, as well as oversee those who man
the ship’s weapons. I also train everyone in how to fight should it be needed.
Not everyone aboard drops down the hatch, but they all need to be good
fighters. ”

“I see,” Abigail said wonderingly. “How did you come by such
a profession?” She had met a few women Army and Navy officers before, but this
small woman was nothing like them.

Saira shrugged in such a way that Abigail was momentarily
reminded that beneath the open rubber tunic, the woman was practically half
naked. Confound it, she needed to focus on what she said next, not ogle like a
schoolboy.

“My mother’s people are all warriors.” Saira was aware of the
Englishwoman being aware of her. When auras touched, body spoke to body even
when one of them did not know what was happening. “I learned much there. My father’s
brother taught me more,” she explained. “He took over one of the great cargo
ships at the end of the war as a merchant. I lived aboard her for a time. When
I went my own way, I found the
Dancer
. She’s a good ship. Will Hunting
Owl is the best Captain I have ever seen.”

“I see,” Abigail said. She took another sip of tea. The woman
certainly had a
presence
for lack of a better word. Still her voice rang true.
She’d heard of the Alliance of Nations giving freighter ships to crews after
the war as a way to stimulate world trade as part of the Reconstruction. The
planet had been so devastated by the Invaders that anything that would help the
survivors was done. Back home at Oxford, they still ate fruit and vegetables
grown in Spain and North Africa. There simply wasn’t enough un-blighted land
around. These and other products were delivered by the giant air freighters.
However, this ship was clearly no freighter. She startled as a chime sounded
the overhead speaker. A woman’s bright voice spoke cryptic instructions in a
British boarding school accent.

“That will be the signal that we are getting underway,” Saira
explained.

“Forgive me, while I am grateful for you removing me from
that horrid situation, I must ask.” Abigail wet her lips. “Are you pirates?
More to the point, what are your intentions towards me?” Saira sensed the
woman’s fear being controlled by a strong determination to not be controlled by
another. She eyed her with a new respect. This was no fainting lady, for all
that she was British.

“Truly, we are not pirates,” Saira answered her seriously. “I
forgive you that you do not know what an insult your question is, though you
would not be the first to make it. No, we are a Free Airship,” she said with
pride.

“It means that we are beholden to no one,” Saira continued,
seeing Abigail’s incomprehension. “We are flagged out of the Freeport of
Seattle, on the other side of the Pacific. Many free airships are merchants;
some are like us, armed fighters. We do jobs that armed ships do. We run small
special cargoes, guard unarmed ships, patrol the smaller trade routes where
there’s trouble and such. The jobs your big shiny air navies can’t be bothered
with. We do have warrants to hunt and kill pirates where we find them.” Saira’s
smile now held nothing of its earlier merriment. And we do kill them. Like
today.”

“So then, you are, ah, privateers?” Abigail asked interested,
despite the blood−thirsty sentiment. She knew that the Freeports were one
of the more controversial provisions of the Gibraltar Treaty. The idea had been
to create air and sea ports around the world that would be international
territory with no taxes or restrictions. The notion had been that they would
also stimulate world trade. What they turned out to be, in practice, was quite
different. Most of Mrs. McDougal’s more lurid serials took place in Freeports.
Mrs. M had been Abigail’s nanny and the Hadley’s housekeeper since Abigail was
quite young. Right then Abigail missed her something fierce.  

“I have heard that term used by some,” Saira allowed. “We
fight when we must or when we are paid to.” Saira smiled again, “And we are
very well paid. We are answerable to the Freeport council where we are flagged.
Pirates steal what they want, kill who they want, and enslave the rest for
money. We are not like that!” Saira said forcefully.

“As for our intentions, that is up to Cap’n Will,” Saira
continued. “I can promise you that none aboard will touch you with lascivious
intention without you wanting them to, and that we will get you somewhere more
or less safe.” She looked at Abigail, listening with more than her ears. “Now
then, how is it that a Lady such as you came to be in such a way?”

“Actually,” Will said from the doorway, “I was going to ask
the same thing.” He walked in to the cabin with steaming mug, and sat down
behind the battered desk. The man grinned at her broadly, then placed his feet
up on the desk, boots and all. Abigail found this familiarity very
disconcerting. He looked from one woman to the next “Please go on, Lady
Hadley.”

Abigail found that she was flustered again by his regard,
which was most out of character for her. This Captain Hunting Owl had a strong
presence of his own. Certainly there was an animal sensuality about him mixed
with a sense of danger. But there was more than that. There was such an air of
authority that you simply had to pay attention to him when he entered a room. She
wondered what the protocols was here. She didn’t see Saira standing when he
entered, as she’d seen the crew do when the captain had entered a room on her
air flight from Britain. Then there was this Captain’s casual familiarity. While
she dithered over what was the correct thing to say, she sipped her tea. The
silence lengthened. Finally, Will appeared to take pity on her.

“Suppose I start,” he said, still sounding very genial. “Do
you know where your servants are?”

“Actually there aren’t any servants.” Abigail took a breath.
“I am traveling on my own.” She hesitated, knowing now how foolish she had
been, and how she would sound. Will raised an eyebrow at that, but made no
remark. He nodded at her to go on.

“Well, “Abigail said somewhat defensively, “Really, it should
not
matter that I am a woman traveling alone should it? It is the 1890’s
after all. You see, I was on my way to meet with my father who is engaged in
research in China. We are, in fact, to meet in Hong Kong.”

“Pardon me,” Will asked around his mug. “Who is your father
exactly?”

“Lord Robert Hadley, also of the Royal Order of Scholars,”
She replied. “He contacted me to join him, as I believe I mentioned.” Abigail’s
hands clutched tightly to her tea mug. “In the course of my travels, I met what
I thought at the time was a British gentleman named Thaddeus Kane. I learned
that he certainly was not one. Mr. Kane offered to succor me on the last of my
journey from Bombay to Hong Kong by offering me passage on what he claimed was
one of his ships.”

“This Kane said he was a shipper, and you were in luck as he
had a ship sailing that night.” Will said dryly. “Once you were on board, he
offered you something to drink. When you woke up, you found that you were not
just a guest.” Abigail looked at him in wonder.

“Yes, that is exactly what happened! How did you know?” She
demanded.

“He didn’t,” said Saira gently, “It is an old slavers trick.
What they call a ‘Shanghai’.”

“Yes!” Abigail exclaimed, “The large Chinese man said
something like that when I awoke.”

“That would be Hu Fan?” Will asked.

“Yes, that was his name,” Abigail said, visibly suppressing a
shudder. “He told me that he was the captain of the ship, and I had been
‘shanghaied.’”

“So, how is it that you came to be in the strong room?” Will
wondered, “Seems a funny place to put you.” Abigail knew that she was blushing
now, and cursed inwardly. Her fair skin did that to her every time.

“Well, I’m afraid that I have something of a temper at
times,” she explained, keeping her eyes on the wall behind Saira. “When he said
that I was a captive, and leered over me, I’m afraid that I attacked him, and,”
here she paused to drink her tea. “I, ahem, bit off part of his, his ear,” she
said hesitantly.

Both Saira and Will went very still at this surprising
revelation. Then Saira began what Abigail thought was a mostly girlish
giggling, which seemed very out of place given her martial attire. She was
still even covered in splashes of blood. Saira was now laughing so hard, she
was gasping.

“Oh Shiva!” she exclaimed between whoops, “You’d best be
careful, Cap’n, she has a temper!”

“I am sorry,” Abigail said coldly, “I fail to see what is
remotely amusing about this.”

“Lady Hadley,” Will begin slowly. “Hu Fan was a vicious cold
killer and a slaver. The last time we tangled, he threatened to flay a woman
alive just to keep us at a distance from him. He later began to shove his
cargo, which was living men, women, and children overboard just so he could
have his ship go faster.” Abigail’s face went from red to ghostly pale as the
implications began to sink in.

“My god,” she whispered.

“Aiya,” Will nodded.” So far as I know, you’re the only
person I’ve heard of to do Hu Fan bodily harm and live to tell of it.” He
grinned at her like a boy, then drained his mug.

“Well, second person now,” he said with a satisfied air.
“After I put a bullet through his head.”

“Too good for him, Cap’n,” Saira said intensely, still wiping
her eyes from laughing.

“Well, I was a might rushed you could say,” Will explained.
He turned back to Abigail “So, Lady Hadley, you are a very lucky woman, I’m
thinking. “ He put down his mug on the desk, uncurling his legs to have his
feet hit the floor.

“So, what are you a Scholar of?” he asked. “Don’t you types
all have areas that you specialize in?”

“Please, call me Abigail, Captain, as I do owe you a debt of
gratitude.” She requested, coming to a quick decision. She may as well try to
make allies here. At least, they seemed like friendly people, if not exactly
civilized. “Titles are given to most anyone who can do their sums these days,”
she explained easily, “As you know, when Her Majesty created the Order of
Scholars after the War, it was designed not only to be a bulwark of the New
Science against the return of the Invaders but to be a revival of the British
aristocracy.” She waved a hand gracefully. “Most who graduate from Oxford
become titled these days. As to my studies, they lie in the areas of Electric
Energetics, both theoretical and applied.”

“You mean like what makes Tesla engines run and such?” Saira
asked innocently. Tesla’s inventions had not only contributed to the salvation
of humanity from the Invaders, but formed the cornerstone of much of the modern
world. Abigail smiled at her.

“Precisely!” She exclaimed. “Although more towards the ‘and
such’ of those studies. There is so much just in this field that is wonderful,”
she stopped herself from continuing with an effort, and returned her hands to
her lap. “But I do not mean to allow my enthusiasms to run away there.” She
said. Lady Hadley turned back to Will.