Skyjackers - Episode 3: The Winds of Justice (Skyjackers: Season One) Read online

  Skyjackers

  Episode 3

  The Winds of Justice

  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 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  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 16

  “I just don’t understand it, Manchester,” Jonathan told his first mate as they finished their morning calisthenics on the Maelstrom’s main deck. “November Hutchins was afraid to say what she knew about the Caine family, yet she was adamant she must do so. When she returned from her stint in captivity, she’d done an about-face. Her fears had been somehow assuaged and her mouth was firmly shut on all matters regarding the Caines.”

  Manchester mopped his brow with a towel. “Perhaps she had a change of heart.”

  “Clearly. But why? What did they do to her? How did they buy her silence?”

  “I hear gold often works,” said Manchester.

  “Benedict Caine’s got plenty of it, if the rumors are true. Do you think Ms. Hutchins is in league with them?”

  “I think you’d be wise to keep the possibility in mind, Mr. Jonathan.”

  “Right. At least she and the other survivors are safe now. I consider that a success.”

  “No thanks to me,” said Manchester.

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s easy to crack under the pressure. Especially when your life is on the line.”

  “Would you have told them where the passengers were hiding, sir?”

  Jonathan pondered this. He wanted to believe he would’ve kept silent under any threat. It disappointed him that the Caines had put him in a position to betray those he’d promised to protect. “Let’s not talk about it anymore. We ought to be stocking up for the Admiral’s convoy tomorrow.”

  “Yes, Mr. Jonathan.”

  Vin Harlow emerged from belowdecks and approached the two men in a huff. “Cap’n Thorpe. There’s been a distress call from a vessel passing over Azkatla. They say there’s part of a rather large house rising up out of the jungle.”

  “A house in Azkatla? I thought those jungles were uninhabited. Is there anyone inside?”

  “They didn’t say, sir. There’s no telling. We aren’t too far off, though. Might be worth a look.”

  “Indeed. We must investigate at once. Someone may be in need of our help.”

  ***

  In a rare display of equitable leadership, Benedict Caine had called a meeting with the captains, first mates, and quartermasters of all six airships in his fleet. Everyone was there; even Mr. Mittens. The only one absent was Misty, though Benedict didn’t notice this at first.

  “Before we start the proceedings,” he said when all were gathered, “I would like to thank Poleax Longworth for graciously offering to host us aboard his vessel today.”

  Everyone clapped and cheered.

  “I didn’t offer,” said Poleax, but no one heard him.

  “I must say, the Hummingbird looks better today than it did when she first set sail. I’m impressed with the way you’ve kept up the old girl, Poleax. She’s tight, tidy, and in perfect working order. Now all you need is a woman with the same qualities.”

  Laughter, and more applause.

  “I’ve called you all together here for a brief discussion. First of all, it has come to my attention that I have been deceived.” Benedict leaned over the table where Poleax was sitting.

  Poleax’s face went red as a ripe cherry. He cleared his throat. “I’m not ashamed of it. Nor will I apologize for it. There are certain things a man must do to keep his conscience in good order. For me, saving those horses was one of them.”

  “I see,” said Benedict. “So you admit you returned to Azkatla not for supplies, but to retrieve the animals you deliberately hid from us on the hunt.”

  “Yes.” Poleax shifted in his chair.

  “And how do you suppose you ought to be punished for this treachery?”

  “There is nothing treacherous about showing kindness to the lesser beings of this world.”

  “There is something quite treacherous about a ship’s captain keeping secrets from his commodore, however,” said Benedict. “How am I to know I can rely on you when the going gets rough?”

  “If the going had been rough, I would’ve adjusted my conduct accordingly.”

  Benedict stood up. “I can’t understand it, Poleax. I invite you into my home. I make you a part of my family and share the spoils of my endeavors with you. You have shown me the price of my generosity. First Lily, now this.”

  “There has been no price, Ben. I ran an errand of personal import, and now I have returned. You’ve lost nothing apart from the two animals you thought had vanished into the jungle anyway.”

  “You’re forgetting something, Poleax. The Marquis of Bixbury has filed charges with the constabulary.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I have eyes and ears in many places, cousin. Thanks to your mucking up the operation that night, the Marquis’s people have identified the Hummingbird by name.”

  “Perhaps your ships wouldn’t be so easy to identify if their names weren’t painted across the back.”

  Benedict gave him a brief smile. “A ship’s name is a thing of pride. Not something to be hidden like a cold sore at a kissing booth. You’ve embarrassed me in both word and deed. However, being the tolerant man I am, I have decided to give you one last chance. This new hideaway we’re building has turned out to be rather a strain on my coffers. A Regency airship called the Justice will be transporting gold between a heavily guarded storehouse in Roathea and one of its subsidiaries in Cardemere. The Justice is a dreadnought-class vessel, rivaling Junior’s Stratustarian in size, and is sure to be escorted by a number of well-armed steamers. The convoy leaves tomorrow. Together, we must seize that ship and plunder its booty.”

  Junior snickered.

  “You have an infantile sense of humor.”

  “Sorry, Dad,” said Junior, straightening.

  Benedict shook his head in annoyance. Looking around the room, he became suddenly aware that someone wasn’t there who should’ve been. “Gertrude… where’s Misty?”

  “Perhaps her crew will enlighten us,” said Gertrude, looking to Misty’s first mate and quartermaster for a response.

  Xan Janakki gulped. “I thought she was with you, Commodore.”

  Benedict stared at him, blinking. “Come again?”

  “The day we left Azkatla, everything was in chaos. I came to the conclusion that Misty must’ve boarded one of the other s
hips.”

  “What in the name of all the gods would lead you toward that conclusion? We’re half a world away, and you haven’t once checked in to confirm whether your captain might’ve boarded another ship by mistake? Who ordered the Moonmist to leave Azkatla, if Misty wasn’t aboard?”

  “I gave the order myself, sir.”

  “Did she leave you in charge?”

  “Yes, sir. While she was at the hideaway.”

  “And do you specifically remember her returning to the ship?”

  “Not specifically.”

  “Then why would you make such a daft assumption?”

  “I thought the Captain was in her cabin sleeping, sir. You know how she hates to be disturbed when she’s sleeping. On top of that, the holds were all full of treasures from the house and such. Plenty of servants, plenty of weight. I got to thinking that if another of those earthquakes happened, might be Mandrake Hollow was like to fall in on us. I thought it best we got out of there while we could. Sir.”

  “That was a terrible idea. Not to mention a blatant breach of the chain of command.”

  “I do apologize for that, sir.”

  “Apology will get you nowhere, Janakki. Unless your destination is the bottom of the ocean. Viv, since this buffoon is incapable of following orders, go to the hideaway in Azkatla and look for your sister. I want a full-scale search. Leave no leaf unturned until she’s found.”

  Vivian stood. “Just me, Dad?”

  “I can’t spare more than one ship at the moment. We’ll need all our strength for tomorrow’s stickup. The Dawnhammer’s crew is large enough to conduct a thorough search without being too big a loss. Bluewave me the moment you find her. If she was, in fact, left behind at the mansion, she won’t have gone far.”

  “I only pray she’s alright,” Janakki said.

  “Shut up, Janakki. Don’t make it worse for yourself. I’ll find a proper sanction for you later.”

  “Not to worry,” said Gertrude. “If there’s anyone in all the world capable of bending every threat to her will, it’s our Misty.”

  ***

  Misty awoke the following day with mixed feelings. On the one hand, she had never had so much fun making frisbees of her mother’s porcelain dishware or feeding river piranhas with firecrackers disguised as dragonflies. On the other hand, the food was running out, and there were no servants to clean up after her, change her bed linens, or wash her clothes. She had also realized that while there was no one around to pester her, there was also no one around to fall victim to her schemes.

  Wholly discontented with this state of affairs, Misty rolled out of bed with a yawn and opened her bedroom door. The hallway was drafty, as though someone had left all the windows open. She rubbed her eyes and nearly stepped off the jagged cliff of splintered wood where the back staircase should’ve been. In place of the rear wall of the house, she could see the jungles of Azkatla far below.

  “Isn’t this the way it goes,” she muttered. “When one door closes, a hole opens up in your drawing room.”

  The house had risen to a dizzying height. She was far too high to jump, or even to make a rope from her bedsheets and climb down. All she could do was trudge back to her room, shut the door, and crawl back into bed. Someone would be around to get to her eventually, she hoped.

  In fact, there was more than one person already on the way. Jonathan was the first to arrive on the scene. He brought the Maelstrom as close to the floating mansion as he dared and ordered the crew to lower ropes over the side. “Who’s coming with me? Any volunteers?”

  The crew was silent.

  “Alright, then,” he said with a sigh. “Look sharp, lads. You’ll have to keep rising to stay alongside the building. I’ll be back in a few minutes. And Manchester?”

  “I know, Mr. Jonathan… don’t go anywhere without you.”

  “Thank you, Manchester.” Jonathan swung off the deck and slid down the rope, landing on the building’s roof with a soft thud. He dropped down onto one of the eaves and climbed inside through an upstairs window.

  Within, the house looked deserted. He found himself standing in a bedroom—a girl’s, by the looks of it. The bed, dresser, nightstand, and vanity were dusty. The air was thick and humid. Jonathan stepped into the hall. A stretch of carpet bordered by hardwood ran the length of the hallway. At either end, where the walls should’ve been, there was only empty air.

  Jonathan made his way down the hallway, opening each door he came to. Every closet and bedroom was empty, except for Misty’s. When he saw the dark-haired girl lying there beneath the coverlet, his first thought was that she might be dead. He entered the room and gave her a gentle shake.

  Misty opened her eyes and rolled over with a groan. She took on the confused expression one often does when waking to an unfamiliar sight.

  Jonathan found the girl strangely familiar, but he couldn’t put a finger on why. “It’s alright,” he told her. “I won’t hurt you. My name is Jonathan Thorpe. I’m a sky marshal, and I’ve come to get you out of here.”

  “Thorpe,” Misty repeated. She, too, found Jonathan familiar. Then it came to her. This was the same sky marshal who had interrupted the robbery at the Archduchess’s wedding. The same man her sister Vivian was so taken with.

  Misty prided herself on her ability to prey on the weaknesses of others. She knew things about the members of her family that most of them didn’t know themselves. For instance, she knew Vivian liked to test the men she was fond of, or was considering being fond of. It was her dead giveaway. Vivian was fond of this man, and that made him the perfect target.

  It was then that Misty had a magnificent idea. She’d already planned out the petty little revenges she was going to take on each member of her family, but this fortuitous circumstance called for a strategic shift. This was an opportunity to make Vivian jealous of her for a change. It was time to see whether Captain Thorpe had any weaknesses of his own.

  “Jonathan,” she whispered.

  “Yes,” he said. “Please, madam. We ought to be—”

  “Come here, you sexy man-cake.” Misty wrapped her arms around Jonathan’s neck and pulled him down onto the bed with her, where she began showering his face with kisses.

  Jonathan was startled—and decidedly un-seduced—but too polite to reject her outright. He pushed himself up, struggling to free himself from her grasp. “Madam. Madam, please. I’m afraid we haven’t the time for this. You see, your house is about three thousand feet up from the ground, and quite unstable.”

  Misty clung to him all the harder. Flustered, and fearing her seduction ineffective, she kicked the bedclothes away and wrapped her legs around Jonathan’s to keep him from bending his knees. Jonathan managed to stand, but only with Misty clinging to him like a baby animal in its mother’s pouch. He reeled backward, slamming into a wardrobe as he scrabbled against the blinding flurry of Misty’s affections.

  The wall behind him gave out, crumbling away into nothingness and taking the wardrobe with it. Jonathan flailed his arms for balance and caught hold of Misty’s bedside table, where he glimpsed a small family portrait in a wooden frame. Suddenly, it all made sense. “Wait a tick… you’re a Caine, aren’t you?”

  Outside, Vivian’s Dawnhammer was approaching. She extended her spyglass and found herself staring at her sister Misty, who was hanging like a coconut from a tree made of… “Captain Thorpe?”

  Vivian lowered the spyglass with a curse, lifted it again to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. There they were, in the eviscerated remains of Misty’s bedroom, floundering around only a few feet from the edge in what appeared to be a rather amorous exchange.

  “I see,” Vivian said to herself. She couldn’t explain why, but for some reason the sight made her jealous. “Prepare to leave.”

  “But, Captain Caine… we’ve only just—”

  “Prepare to leave, Mr. Buffner. It would appear my sister is in capable hands.”

  In the open bedroom, Misty was licking Jonathan’s c
heek between proclamations of affection. “Oh, Jonathan. Take me. Take me now.”

  “I’m flattered, but no,” Jonathan managed, attempting to both steady himself against the nightstand and peel her off him at the same time. She was a strong one, and determined, so the task proved difficult. “I was wondering if you might tell me something, madam.”

  “Anything, Jonathan. Oh, anything.”

  “Is this the infamous Caine hideout? Or rather… part of it?”

  “What does it matter? All that matters right now, in this moment—” she paused to shove her tongue into his ear, “—is that I want you, and you want me.”

  “Forgive me for pointing out how inaccurate a statement that is,” said Jonathan. “If this is the Caine hideout, it matters to me very much. In fact, I should wonder at having been a fly on the wall of this place. And for the record, madam—please stop chewing on my cheek—if there were anyone in your family I was interested in, it would be your sister, Vivian.”

  Misty stopped. “What did you say?”

  Jonathan was having second thoughts about what he’d just said. “Never mind. We really ought to be getting off this thing. In an orderly fashion, if you please.”

  Misty dropped to her feet. “If I were a fly, I’d crawl into your ear and punch you in the brain. How dare you like her? She’s not the beautiful one. I am.”

  “I meant no disrespect, madam. I’m sure you’ll be rather… handsome, someday.”

  Misty backed off a few paces, snatched up her sword where it was leaning against her closet door, and flung the scabbard away. “Say that again, Captain Thorpe.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  The Dawnhammer was rising through the clouds, leaving Misty and her new lover behind. There was a sick feeling in Vivian’s stomach. She wondered where she’d ever come up with the silly idea that Jonathan might fancy her. He had told her what he truly thought of her; several times, in fact. His opinion only seemed to get worse each time they crossed paths. Seeing Misty all over him just now, Vivian realized she’d taken more than a slight liking to Jonathan Thorpe. A captain of the sky marshals was no fit consort for any daughter of Benedict Caine’s. But Misty did what she wanted. There was no changing that. As for Jonathan, Vivian was sure a brave, handsome captain like him could have any woman he wanted. Why, then, had he chosen Misty?