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  Skyjackers

  Episode 4

  Betrayals and Betrothals

  J.C. Staudt

  Skyjackers is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 J.C. Staudt

  All rights reserved.

  Edition 1.0

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Foreword

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Afterword

  Foreword

  Thanks for checking out Skyjackers, a steampunk adventure-romance serial. What you are about to read is a single installment in an ongoing narrative, akin to watching an episode of your favorite TV show. Each episode contains its own storylines, but also builds on a larger scale throughout the entire season. My goal in writing this serial was to deliver a light, fun adventure with a touch of drama, some colorful characters, and a storyline that moves at breakneck speed. I hope that’s what you find. Enjoy the story!

  Chapter 23

  Tribesmen were everywhere. They had materialized from the jungle without warning to encircle Benedict and his crew. The festooned man whom Benedict had assumed was their chief had not been willing to listen to reason. Benedict didn’t know this for a fact, of course. This was an assumption on his part, since every word he himself had said was a peaceful one, and every word the chief had said was strange and incomprehensible.

  When the tribesmen attacked, Benedict had been confused as to why. He’d offered them a gift in the form of a carved wooden case containing a pair of ornate flintlock pistols. It wasn’t his fault they were loaded, or that the chief had pointed one at his friend and pulled the trigger. The Cloudhopper’s crew were putting up a good fight, and Benedict was doing everything he could to help. Which, at a distance of several hundred yards and growing, wasn’t much.

  Out of breath, Benedict dove behind a fallen log only to find his quartermaster, Curtis Cosgrove, hiding there. “What are you doing here, you coward?”

  “Same as you, sir,” said Cosgrove. “Helping from a distance.”

  “Right. I’d say our peace talks went rather well, all things considered. If anything, we certainly showed them who’s the superior race.”

  “Yes,” Cosgrove agreed. “They are.”

  “Nonsense. We possess more advanced weaponry and higher cognitive ability.”

  “Maybe,” said Cosgrove. “But there’s one thing they’ve got plenty more of than we do.”

  “Oh please. Numbers are insignificant when we’ve got guns and they’ve got spears.”

  “Not numbers, sir. Courage.” Cosgrove nodded in the direction of the melee.

  Benedict poked his head up and saw a swath of his crew barreling toward them through the undergrowth. “Why are they fleeing? Bloody cowards.”

  “It’s that courage thing, sir.”

  “Shut up, Cosgrove. Where are my daughters?”

  “That’s Misty there, if I’m not mistaken. See her, at the chieftain’s throat?”

  “Oh, heavens,” said Benedict. “She is literally biting that poor man’s neck like a rabid wildebeest.”

  There was a rustling in the trees behind the fallen log. Benedict rolled onto his back and pointed his sword toward the undergrowth. “Stay back, whoever you are. I’m warning you.”

  Poleax Longworth emerged from the greenery and threw himself down beside Benedict. He was dripping wet and barefoot, holding a shoe in one hand.

  “Poleax? Where the devil did you come from?”

  “Ben. Thank the gods I’ve found you. I must speak with you at once.”

  “Not now, you imbecile. Can’t you see I’m leading a strategic offensive?”

  A stampede of crewmembers leapt over the fallen log and ran past them.

  “That’s an interesting strategy,” said Poleax. “Is this the sort of offensive where you let the other side win?”

  “There’s Vivian,” said Cosgrove. “She’s just hacked off one of their spears. And another. Uh oh. She sees she’s alone. She’s grabbed Misty and they’re fleeing with the others now.”

  “Shut up, both of you. Here come my daughters. Do me a favor and run slowly.”

  “But Ben, I really must speak with you.”

  “Now,” Benedict shouted.

  As Vivian and Misty leapt over the fallen log, Benedict scrambled after them. He looked back to find Poleax and Curtis Cosgrove just getting to their feet. Lucky for them, the tribesmen only pursued them a short distance before giving up.

  When they reached the construction site, Benedict found his crew resting in the shade, passing a bottle of brandy from hand to hand. “You worthless louts. What do you think you’re doing? First you flee in terror from a bunch of crotch-covered natives, and now I find you lazing about like drunkards at a dinner party. I’m in disbelief over the gutless display I’ve just witnessed.”

  “I only ran because you did, sir,” said a sailor whose time in the crew was drawing to a close.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Andrew Scarborough, sir.”

  “Cosgrove, see that Scarborough leaves this island by way of its highest cliff.”

  “Aye, sir,” Cosgrove said.

  “As for the rest of you, I’ve used your cowardice to successfully trick the islanders into a false sense of victory, which was precisely my intention from the start.”

  “Ah,” said Poleax, nodding his comprehension.

  “The next time we face them, it shall be with valor in our hearts and not so much rum in our bellies. One would hope.” Benedict was distracted by the sound of his daughters squabbling. He turned around to see Misty punch Vivian in the chest. “What’s this all about?”

  “Misty was just talking about her new boyfriend,” said Vivian, rubbing the sore spot.

  “You promised not to tell,” Misty shouted.

  “You promised you’d be nice. I can see that’s a lost cause. Besides, I haven’t said a thing about who he is.”

  “Misty? What did Daddy tell you about pets and boyfriends?”

  Misty rolled her eyes. “I’m not ready for either until I’ve shown I can keep them alive.”

  “That’s right. There’s no man in the world good enough for my little poppet. Now. Tell Daddy who he is.”

  “I won’t,” Misty said. “We have a secret passion. No one will ever sunder our forbidden love.”

  Benedict turned red. Then he turned to Vivian. “Who is he?”

  Vivian hesitated. “To be honest, Father, I wouldn’t worry about it. I don’t know how much truth there is to the whole thing.”

  “It is true,” Misty shouted. “We’re in love, and I don’t care what you or anyone else says.”

  “Are you lying to me, young lady?”

  “No. Ask Vivian. She knows. She saw.”

  Benedict raised his eyebrows in wait.

  “There was definitely a… moment,” said Vivian. “Which… happened. This is awkward. What I mean to say is, I did see, but it was only… from a great distance. I don’t know if it’s quite as serious as she’s making it out to be. That’s all.”

  “Misty, you are grounded until further notice. Fred Askot is captain of the Moonmist until you decide to tell me who it is you’ve been seeing.”

  Misty groaned. “Oh, alright. Fine. It’s Jonathan Thorpe.”

  “Thorpe.” Benedict clenched a fist and looked for something to pound with it. “I require a volunteer to be struck. The first person
to present themselves shall be exempt from all activities for the rest of the day.” He waited a moment. “No takers? Right then. Everyone line up.”

  “Dad,” said Vivian.

  “Not now, Viv. I’ve an itch that can only be scratched with fisticuffs. Thorpe has crossed a line. He’s gone from professional nuisance to personal nemesis. I’ll stop at nothing to see him ruined.”

  “Before you go about ruining this Thorpe fellow,” said Poleax, “I wonder if I might have a word with you in private.”

  Benedict spread his hands. “Whatever it is, Poleax, for the last time—I don’t care.”

  Vivian saw the slump in Poleax’s shoulders at her father’s rebuff. She went over to him while Benedict continued his tirade. “What’s this about? Is there something I can help with?”

  “I’m afraid it’s between me and your father,” Poleax said.

  “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

  Poleax gave her a somber nod before departing the construction site, headed toward the beach.

  ***

  Jonathan pulled the red motorcar into Alexander Atwell’s enormous garage, turned off the engine, and sat with his hands on the steering wheel. How could he have gone the entire week without telling Winny about his demotion? How was he going to keep up with the money he’d been sending home?

  “There you are, old bean,” called a sleepy Alexander Atwell as he descended the garage steps in his pajama robes. “I was wondering what’d happened to you.”

  “Sorry,” said Jonathan. “I would’ve called, but the radio at my mother’s house doesn’t work very well.”

  “It’s no bother. How was your trip?”

  “It was good to see Win and Mother,” was all Jonathan could say. He was bursting at the seams to tell someone about his problems, but Alex was not the right person to tell. He would only laugh, wave his hand, and throw money at Jonathan’s family like it was the natural thing to do.

  Ever since the deaths of Mr. and Mrs. Atwell, Jonathan had been more careful about what he shared with Alex. He’d made the mistake of being too forthcoming once already, and Alex had treated him like a street beggar asking for loose change. Even if Jonathan had asked for a legitimate job at Atwell & Co. Railways, he doubted Alex would’ve given him one. You’ll never work for me, old bean, Alex would say. Whatever you need, it’s yours. No questions asked. Jonathan was grateful his friend was so generous. But he didn’t want Alex’s pity, or his charity. Jonathan’s father had taught him that any man worth his salt made his way in the world through hard work and perseverance.

  “How is she, then?”

  “Who, Mother? Oh, you know… she’s getting on, I suppose. Thanks to Win.”

  “Your sister is a saint. She really is something, that Winifred.”

  Jonathan gave him a knowing smirk. “She asked about you.”

  Alex perked up. “Did she? Did you tell her I’ve grown absurdly handsome, and that I’m busy running father’s company and fulfilling my philanthropic duties as a pillar of the community?”

  Jonathan studied Alex’s disheveled hair, his wrinkled pajamas, and his two-day-old stubble. It was three in the afternoon. “All of the above.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She said she believes everything but the handsome part.”

  Alex laughed and gave Jonathan a series of playful punches. Jonathan handed him the car keys, which Alex hung on the rack as they entered the house. In the library, they sat in a pair of reading chairs beside the hearth.

  “Will you be staying this time, or must you be off at once?”

  “I was thinking I might stay for a few days, if that’s alright. I’ve got time before I have to report back.”

  “Lovely. Say, while you’re here, I’ve got a bit of an emergency.”

  “Did you run over somebody else?”

  “Not exactly. I’ve sacked the company president.”

  “Sacked him? What for? Hasn’t Powell been with Atwell & Co. for decades?”

  “He has. Unfortunately, the old geezer’s been slipping. He is on the ancient side of things, you know.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. What can I do?”

  “Most of the executive staff left with him.”

  “What for? An act of solidarity?”

  “Nothing quite so coordinated as that,” said Alex. “I can’t explain it. One day they were there. Then I dismissed Mr. Powell at the monthly board meeting, and next I knew, ninety percent of the staff were gone.”

  Jonathan was skeptical. Whenever Alex couldn’t explain something, it was usually due to some faux-pas he wasn’t aware he’d committed. “Did you say anything unusual to them? The rest of the staff, I mean.”

  “Only that the company was in need of a new president, and that if anyone knew of a suitable candidate, they should notify me.”

  “Perhaps they thought it rash that you dismissed the leader of the company without a successor in mind. Or they were offended that you hadn’t considered any of them for the job.”

  “They’re all very nice people,” said Alex. “I don’t how I’d ever narrow it down to only one.”

  “Here’s a novel idea. Why not choose someone based on their qualifications?”

  “Well, there is a pretty young lady I rather like.”

  “Not characteristics. Qualifications.”

  “I wouldn’t know a thing about that.”

  “So you really have been running the company.”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea what I’m doing. My father never taught me anything.”

  “Didn’t he envision you taking over for him one day?”

  Alex shook his head. “You knew my father. He wasn’t that sort of chap. I suspect he envisioned outliving us all.”

  “I’ll tell you what. I’ll accompany you to the office tomorrow, get a feel for the state of things, and see if there’s anything I can do.”

  “I don’t want to go back there,” Alex said. “There are men who wear pocket watches and mustachios.”

  “Come on. You can’t keep running away from your problems. How long ago did the sacking occur?”

  Alex thought for a moment. “A month or two, I believe it was.”

  Jonathan stared in disbelief. “That long? How often have you been visiting the office?”

  Alex gave him a sheepish smile.

  “Alex. The railroad business is what pays for your lifestyle. For this house; for those pajamas you’re wearing, which cost more than most people make in a year; and for these servants who wait on you hand and foot. Who’s running your father’s company?”

  Chapter 24

  Junior Caine was reclined in a wooden folding chair in the shade of a palm tree on Kailodos beach, wearing a striped red and white bathing suit, and reading a textbook on the history of mechanical engineering. The rest of his family were splashing in the waves while crewmembers from every ship in the fleet worked with saws and mallets and wood planes to repair the damage to the Dawnhammer’s hull. They’d been at it for days, and Junior was learning a lot about shipbuilding.

  Benedict toweled off as he trudged up the beach and sat beside his son. “Still allergic to sunshine, are we, June Bug? Why don’t you join in the fun every once in a while?”

  “I’m much too preoccupied with my studies.”

  “Oh yes? What’s that you’re reading about?”

  “The combustion engine. More specifically, its history.”

  “Lots of history these days, isn’t there?”

  “Hasn’t there always been?”

  “Not hardly. Why, there was barely any history at all when I was your age.”

  “I forget how old you are sometimes.”

  “The hills have got nothing on me, son.”

  “What did people study back then, with no history to speak of?”

  “The future.”

  “Is that possible?”

  “Point is, son, things were simpler in the old days. You’ll never find facts about the f
uture in one of those fancy textbooks of yours, will you?”

  “I believe those are called speculative works.”

  “Never been much for fiction myself,” said Benedict. “I prefer to stay grounded in hard truth. Though sometimes I feel as if our lives are all just one big speculative work. We never know what’s coming, do we?”

  “That’s a bit more profound than I expected this conversation to get.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Say, Father. I’ve been wondering what happened to that Oakshott fellow. You remember, the one Misty got so cross with because he liked Vivian instead of her?”

  “Don’t talk to me about Misty and boys right now,” Benedict said. “Why do you ask?”

  “During the spring cleaning last week, Lily and Mother and I were just reminiscing over old memories, and Oakshott came up somehow. I was just curious as to whether you knew what became of him.”

  Benedict sat up. “That’s it. That’s it, by thunder. Those books may be doing you more good than you know.”

  “What is it?”

  “Oakshott. Lawrence Oakshott, of course. He’s the solution for all of this. He’s the one, June Bug.”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” said Junior, “but I think I’ll like it.”

  Benedict smiled. “I’ve no doubt you will.”

  ***

  It was with a heavy heart that Poleax Longworth watched the Caine family frolic and play on Kailodos beach from the deck of the Hummingbird. Today is the day, he told himself, though he knew it wasn’t true. The day of the tribal attack last week hadn’t been the day either. Benedict had crushed his nerve, and he hadn’t worked up another one since. He knew he’d have to reveal the truth sometime, but gathering the courage to do so seemed to take every ounce of his energy.

  Ben had never been a man to take pity on people, so Poleax wasn’t expecting to get another chance. What he did expect was one of two possible outcomes, and he didn’t know which was worse: being cast out for a traitor, or letting his guilt eat him alive. Honesty, he decided, was the nobler course.

  Now he was finally ready to give it another go. The problem was, wherever Benedict went, other people were always around. The man never seemed to spend a second alone. When he saw Benedict wade out of the water and sit beside Junior, Poleax decided this was his best chance. By the time he’d commissioned a rowboat and found a sailor to row him ashore, however, the rest of the family had joined them beneath the shady palm tree.