Prologue
Norman A. Gentry, Lieutenant and engineer in the United States Navy, was at a loss for words. He stared at a blank sheet of paper on his small desk. His office was just outside the large engine room, a tiny closet which the desk filled. The sounds and vibrations of the steam engine were constantly battering at his senses, but as long as nothing changed in their rhythm, he tuned it all out.
Right now, everything was functioning smoothly, which wasn’t the case a few minutes ago. Norman looked at the broken part propped against the wall next to his knee. Hefting it, he turned the shaft over. His eye drifted to the snapped end before falling to the other half, lying on the floor by his boot. Together, both bits formed a driving arm along the central shaft of the triple expansion engine.
A sudden change in motion put too much pressure on aged metal, and the arm snapped. It was a simple hardware malfunction. It was replaced.
Now, Norman was left to the simple matter of the report. But, the simple facts couldn’t form the entirety of the document. First Officer Smith had made that abundantly clear. Engineering jargon was also unacceptable. It was to be put in front of Captain William L. Rand’s eyes. An intelligent man, Rand could grasp many concepts, but he wasn’t an engineer and wasn’t familiar with the specific terms that were hammered into Norm’s head at the academy.
While intelligent, the Captain was also highly sentimental. His simple cargo vessel, the Aether Venturer, was ultimately reliable, an example of all the good things about modern American Engineering. On the few occasions Norm was called into the Captain’s office, after something went wrong, he was subjected to a lecture on the quality of the engineering staff and their brute handling of his precious ship.
It couldn’t possibly be that the ship was showing its age. She was already over a decade old. Sometimes, the old man was right. But, this time, the malfunction was just that, happening under normal design parameters. No one had goofed. No one could have possibly touched it. The part had simply failed. It was inevitable.
Norman wasn’t a wordsmith, and for minutes, he stared at the part until he finally felt he could recount an appropriate explanation. Setting the rod down, he grabbed his fountain pen. Pressing it against the paper, he began to write.
“You write like a southpaw,” a familiar voice drawled.
Thoughts interrupted, Norm lifted his pen from the page and turned to look at his immediate subordinate, Jim Cratzenberg. Cratz lifted his right hand, studying it before his gaze darted to Norm’s.
“But, you use the good hand,” Cratz said.
Norman was constantly reminded of how he did things like a lefty. However, Cratz was correct. Norm was right-handed, raised and taught. He was hoping to have escaped the teasing from school. It appeared that some things would never change.
“I just noticed,” Cratz added hastily, dropping his hand.
“What do you need?”
“Boiler’s making noises.”
Norman sighed and stood, slapping his pen onto the desk. “What kind of noises?”
As he stepped out of the office, his ear picked up on a faint screech. Before he or Cratz took another step, the ship lurched. Both men kept their feet. When the Venturer lurched again, both toppled against the bulkhead. Norman and Cratz looked at each other. Then a voice bellowed over the engine noise, issuing a call to battle stations.
The ship was under attack.
* * *
It was hard to tell if Norm's vertigo was induced by the waves of the Atlantic or the knock on his head. Blinking his eyes, he found himself standing on the Venturer's top deck with a good portion of the crew. A bright light from overhead cast the night into utter darkness, while illuminating the ship as if it were day. The night breeze brought the salty smell of the ocean along with the acrid scents of many burning things. In the distant blackness, gray columns of smoke marked the naval escorts. It was hard to tell if they were sinking. He spotted the hole where a shot had breached the engine room and the boiler, bringing the Venturer to standstill, subject only to the whims of the current.
Norm couldn't quite remember what had happened after the call to battle stations. His memory was a blur. First, Cratz had done something to save Norm from the hit to the boiler. Then, there was the gun put into Norm's hands, and finally a knock to his head. Flexing his hands, he could still feel the weight of the revolver. Looking around again, Norm didn't see Cratzenberg among the assembled crew. Something had happened to the Seaman, and it bothered Norm that he couldn't remember.
Now, here he was. The captain and first officer were still alive. Instead of checking on the crew, they were staring intently toward the back of the ship. Norm followed their gaze. Amidst the open cargo hatches, the raiders were busy. Some were on guard, guns leveled at the Venturer's crew. From their clothing, they didn't look military. He listened as one man addressed what appeared to be the guy in charge. Even though he was shorter than most of the men busy around him, he didn't move, only hefting a newer, German model clip-fed pistol. The bullet dangling from a chain around the man's neck suggested that he was a crack shot. He didn't address anyone. They all came to him. One of his crew addressed him in what Norm guessed was French, and he answered in kind. The crewman marched off on an errand.
French? What could the French be doing this far out on the Atlantic?
Then, another man yelled in Mexican. Norm knew that language when he heard it. The man in charge cursed in unmistakable English with a heavy accent before shouting back in Mexican.
Pirates. However, the Venturer's route was too far north for Caribbean or South American bands, what few there were. Why were they up here, and what could they possibly want?
Norm realized that the overhead searchlight was too high to be from a normal sea vessel. He felt the hairs all over his body raised on end. A flash of light caught his eye, and he looked up to see a small lightning bolt arc into the air before winking from existence with a loud snap. While looking up, he saw light behind that of the search lamp. It was a lit internal bay of an airborne ship.
Norm's heart skipped a beat in awe and excitement. He was looking at a leviathan. He stared at the two lengths of chain, descending from the hold above to the hold below.
"Only one band I know of that has an air ship in the Atlantic," the captain said.
The pirate foreman snapped his head around, looking for the source of the comment. "No talking," he bellowed. Definitely an accent.
His eyes roved over the Venturer's crew, passing over Norm, then snapping back. Norm felt uncomfortable under the intent scrutiny. He shifted his stance to keep from squirming. The foreman barked at one of the guards. With a quick gesture, he indicated he wanted Norm brought over.
Norm felt a hollow pit of fear open in his gut. His mind raced with possible actions to take, not one panning out into anything good. In the excitement, he suddenly felt dizzy. His hand went to his head, where he felt a giant goose egg. It was nested in blood, caked and fresh.
Then he felt a hand on his arm, and a strong shove. Norm looked on his guard as he walked. Definitely a man from South America. The dizziness was practically gone when he stopped in front of the foreman.
A strong, slender hand reached up and grabbed hold of Norm's chin. This close, the foreman's green eyes sparkled like jewels in the harsh light. His short, wavy brown hair had a red tint.
Norm didn't resist when his head was twisted side to side, up and down. Unable to hold the intent stare, he instead focused on some point on the foreman's short button nose, waiting for the end. Finally the foreman let go, his stare still focused on Norm as he backed away.
"Blimey," the man drawled.
He snapped an order to the Mexican guard after a few seconds before turning back to the larger task. Norm craned his head around while he was shoved along. The chains were taut and rising into the air. At the end, a huge pressurized liquid tank rose out of the Venturer's hold.
"Now that's the stuff," the foreman said.
Momentarily confused, Norm suddenly realized what the pirates were after when he saw the warning labels. He turned to the rope ladder in front of him at his guard's urging, and started the unsteady climb.
He could only focus on the ascent, but once aboard the pirate airship, he started to think. The pirates had just snatched a shipment of electroid. Whose idea was it to ship electroid on a wet navy cargo ship? And, just who were these pirates?
* * *
The ship was well under way when the foreman came to retrieve Norm from the empty closet they had locked him in. Pretty sure that resistance would end with him chucked over the side, Norm complied with the demands.
Before long, he was deposited in a large office, in front of a desk. He was in the captain's quarters. However, instead of a bearded, heavily muscled man, Norman saw a petite Asian woman. There was no way he could hide his surprise or confusion, and immediately his heart froze at the potential insult he might have caused.
She didn't seem to react to his surprise, however. Instead, upon looking at him, she froze and blinked. For long seconds she stared at him, her dark eyes roving over his face with an intensity similar to the foreman's from only an hour before. Seconds passed before anyone spoke. Norm waited silently, choosing a place on her desk to let his sight go distant while he focused on his other senses.
"See? I told you," the foreman said from behind, on Norman's left.
She looked over and started speaking in a rapid-fire staccato language. Evenly paced with lots of consonants, it sounded nothing like the Chinese which immigrants used.
"I know, but-," the foreman replied.
She interrupted with a few curt sentences.
"Understood. Alright, get up. Time to go."
Norm stood when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Quickly guided out of the office, he was led back to his closet prison. On the way, the foreman seemed particularly chatty.
"Oooh. I can't believe her. It was a real surprise to find you. That's probably what her problem is. Once Cap'n's had a chance to sleep on it, she'll change her mind. Just you wait and see."
The were at the closet. Norm was caught off guard by the foreman's candor. As the other man worked the key in the lock and opened the door, he took a chance, emboldened by the friendly attitude.
"Who are you?"
The foreman turned, and any friendliness vanished. For a moment, he looked sad. He nodded, and Norm entered the cell.
"I'm Sean Cummins," the foreman finally answered. "Second in command o' this vessel."
Norm nodded. "What do you want with me?"
Cummins hesitated, giving Norm another once-over. "You'll find out tomorrow. Welcome to the Dragon's Rose."
Then the door closed, leaving Norm in the dark.
* * *
"What am I to do with you?" the lady Captain asked from behind her desk. Her English was far better than most immigrants Norm heard, but it wasn't quite perfect. "Have a seat."
Norm felt Cummins's hand on his shoulder, guiding him to a wooden fold-out chair and pushing him into it. Norm didn't resist, taking a moment to center himself comfortably.
"You may go," the Captain said.
"Yes ma'am," Cummins replied. The door squealed as it opened and closed with a click.
Norman felt even more on edge now. There was no hesitation in Cummins's voice. This little woman was Captain of the Dragon's Rose for a reason. She pulled on a thin chain necklace around her neck, revealing fully bullet with casing attached at the end. It was a direct match to the one Cummins wore. If it meant what Norm thought it did, then she was a crack shot, as well.
Fingering it idly, her blank gaze fell across Norm.
"Do you know why you were brought aboard?"
Norm shook his head, not trusting his voice.
"What is your name?"
"Uh. Norm. Ma'am," he said hesitantly. "Norman Gentry."
She smiled faintly, looking amused. "You're not him," she muttered. Louder, "I see by your stripes you're an engineer."
"Yes, ma'am."
"What languages do you speak?"
"Just American, ma'am."
She sighed, sounding disappointed. "We could use another engineer."
Norm's heart skipped a beat. The thought of working on an airship was a long-standing dream of his ever since he had seen the first in the Great White Fleet. Not even remotely among the best and brightest assigned to those ships, it would take years of dedicated service before Norm could be promoted to one. To have such an opportunity, right here and now, was beyond his wildest dreams. But, these were pirates. Criminals. Could he live that kind of life? Could he do everything they might demand of him? And, he wasn't really qualified. His training had been focused on naval engines and propulsion. An airship was a completely different animal.
But, that wasn't why he was brought on board. Cummins didn't inspect Norm's striping. Cummins had inspected Norman Gentry.
"I see you don't quite believe me," the captain said, as if reading his mind. She smiled again. It was thin, and seemed to be kind of sad. "Do you know what day it is? It is April First, a day for pranks and jokes in your culture. I feel as if a great demon has played one on me. We used to have a crewman who looked exactly like you. That's why my second brought you aboard."
She paused, still staring at Norm while he absorbed the information. The concept was sound, but he couldn't emotionally or rationally invest in the thought that he had a twin wandering the world.
"He was a valued member of our crew," she added. "If I were to let you mingle with the rest of the ship, it would be like seeing a ghost. How the crew would react would be unpredictable. Some might forget who you are, and who you are not. They might expect things from you, or ask about events that you weren't part of. So, what am I to do with you?"
She stared at him, and Norm only stared back in her general direction. He tried thinking of some responses, but he really had nothing to say. Part of him wanted to be hired. Part of him was curious about this other man. The rest was confusion and fear at this unknown woman and the people she used to crew the Dragon's Rose.
"Would you be interested in becoming part of my crew?"
Norm tossed the idea around a little more. Finally, his drive to fulfill his dream and large amounts of curiosity won out.
"Yes," he stammered. "I know my chances in the U.S. Navy. I've wanted to be on a leviathan for some time."
Her eyebrows shot up momentarily. When she spoke again, it was in a stern tone. "Make no mistake. We give severe punishment for betrayal or sabotage. Knowing this, are you sure?"
Norm didn't need to ask how severe. It was common practice for traitors in any military to be executed. For a moment, he felt a spike of fear pierce his heart, and doubt filled his minds with argumentative thoughts. As he considered, he prayed a silent prayer, and all the arguments in his head retreated in the face of one. He would never see this opportunity again.
That thought gave Norm some resolve.
"Yes. I understand. I'll join your crew."
The Captain relaxed. "Get comfortable, Mister Gentry. Before I make you a part of my crew, you need to know about the man many will mistake you for." She leaned back, her own gaze going distant. "When we found him, we were just as surprised as when we found you. He went by the name Mason Smith, and he asked some interesting questions."
