To the east the sun was just cresting the mountains, bringing a squick of warmth to the air. The Leviathan’s membrane was already turning black, ready to absorb the heat of the day.
“I hope the captain’s got good news,” Newkirk said. “Don’t want to be stuck on this iceberg too long.”
“It’s a glacier,” Deryn said. “And the lady boffin seems to think we might be.”
There was a stir among the men below, and attention was called as the captain came out onto the snow.
“The last patch went on at six a.m. this morning,” he announced. “The Leviathan is airtight once again!”
The riggers arrayed along the spine raised a cheer, and the two middies joined them.
“Dr. Busk has checked her insides, and the beast seems healthy enough,” the captain continued. “What’s more, our Clanker friends hardly dented the gondolas. There may be a lot of broken windows, but our instruments are in fine shape. Only the motivator engines need serious repairs.”
Deryn glanced down at the port engine pod, riddled with bullet holes and leaking black oil onto the snow. The tail engines looked bad as well. The Germans had focused most of their fire on the mechanical parts of the ship— typical Clanker thinking. The starboard pod lay beneath the whale, of course, smashed against the glacier.
“We’ll need two working engines to control the ship,” the captain said. “At least we have no shortage of parts.” He paused. “So our greatest test will be reinflating the ship.”
Here it comes, Deryn thought.
“Unfortunately, we don’t have enough hydrogen.”
An uncertain murmur spread through the crew. The wee beasties in the whale’s gut made hydrogen, after all, the same way people breathed out carbon dioxide. Even after a long winter’s hibernation the ship always swelled back to her old size within a few days.
“THE CAPTAIN ADDRESSES THE CREW.”
It was normally so simple that everyone had missed the obvious—hydrogen didn’t come from out of the blue. It came from the airship’s bees and birds.
The head boffin stepped forward.
“The Alps were once the bedrock of an ancient sea,” he said. “But now these peaks are the highest in Europe, not fit for man or beast. If you look around, you’ll see no insects, plants, or small prey for our flocks. For the moment our fabs are living off the ship’s stores. As long as they remain alive, the ship will process their excreta and slowly refill her hydrogen cells.”
“Excreta?” Newkirk whispered.
“That’s boffin-talk for ‘clart,’” Deryn replied, and Newkirk snorted a laugh.
“But when the Leviathan was designed,” Dr. Busk continued, “none of us imagined landing in a place so bleak. And I’m afraid that the equations are indisputable: All the hydrogen in our ship’s stores isn’t enough to lift us into the air.”
Another murmur spread through the crew. They were getting the picture now.
“Some of you may be wondering,” Dr. Busk said with half a smile, “why we don’t simply take hydrogen from the snow around us.”
Deryn frowned. She’d been wondering no such thing, but it seemed like a fair question. Snow was just water, after all—hydrogen and oxygen. It’d always seemed a bit suspect to her, that two gasses mixed up made a liquid, but the boffins were dead certain on the issue.
“Unfortunately, separating water into its elements requires energy, and energy requires food. The ecosystem that is our home depends on sustenance from nature to repair itself.” Dr. Busk’s gaze swept across the glacier. “And in this awful place, nature herself is empty.”
As the captain stepped forward again, Deryn heard no sound but the wind in the rigging and the panting of hydrogen sniffers. The crew had gone dead silent.
“Early this morning we loosed a pair of homing terns to carry our position to the Admiralty,” the captain said. “No doubt one of our sister ships will reach us soon enough, provided the war doesn’t get in the way.”
A chuckle rose up from the crew, and Deryn began to feel a squick of hope. Maybe things weren’t as bleak as Dr. Barlow thought.
“But mounting a rescue mission for a hundred men in wartime may take weeks.” The captain paused, and the head boffin beside him looked grim. “We don’t have much food in our stores—a little more than a week at half rations. Longer if we use the other resources at our disposal.”
Deryn raised an eyebrow. What other resources? The head boffin had just said there was nothing on the glacier.
The captain drew himself up taller. “And my first responsibility is to you, the men of my crew.”
The men—not the fabricated creatures. Did he mean taking the beasties’ food? But surely the captain wasn’t saying …
“To save ourselves we may have to let the Leviathan die.”
“Barking spiders!” Newkirk hissed.
“It won’t come to that,” Deryn said, pulling the Clanker field glasses from his hands. “My mad boy’s going to help us.”
“What?” Newkirk asked.
“Tell the men at the winch to give me some rope,” she said. “I’m ready to go up.”
“Don’t you think it’s a bit rude,” Newkirk whispered, “taking off while the captain’s talking?”
Deryn looked out across the glacier—nothing but blank white snow, turning brilliant as the sun rose. But somewhere out there were people who knew how to survive in this awful place. And the captain had said to go up at first light… .
“Quit your dawdling, Mr. Newkirk.”
The boy sighed. “All right, your admiralship. Will you be wanting a message lizard?”
“Aye, I’ll call one,” Deryn said. “But fetch me some semaphore flags.”
As Newkirk went for the flags, Deryn took out her command whistle, blowing for a message lizard. A few heads turned in the crowd below, but she ignored them.
Soon a lizard crested the wilting airbag and scuttled toward her along the spine. Deryn snapped her fingers, and it climbed up her flight suit, nestling on her shoulder like a parrot.
“Stay warm, beastie,” she said.
The winch had started to turn, a length of slack rope coiling down the airbeast’s flank. Newkirk handed her the semaphore flags and stood ready at the tether line.
Deryn gave him a thumbs-up, and he let the knot spill.
The air became clearer as she rose.
Down near the surface, icy particles flurried on the constant wind, swirling across the glacier like a freezing sandstorm. But up here, above the haze of airborne snow, the whole valley spread out below her. Mountains rose on either side, covered under a patchy blanket of white. The strata of the ancient seabed jutted up through the snow in a broken sawtooth pattern.
Deryn pulled the field glasses from their case. Where to start?
First she scanned the perimeter of the wreck, looking for fresh tracks in the snow. Several spindly trails led away from the ship and back, where crewman had snuck off to smoke a pipe or relieve themselves. But one set was wider and shuffly looking—Alek’s funny shoes at work.
Deryn followed the tracks away from the wreck. They wandered back and forth, crossing exposed rock whenever possible. Alek had been clever, trying to confuse anyone trying to follow him home. But he hadn’t reckoned on someone tracking him from the sky.
By the time the footprints had faded into the distance, she was certain he’d come from the east, where Austria lay.
The sun was fully up now, making the white snow glare. But Deryn was glad for the warmth. Her eyes were watering from the cold, and the message lizard clenched her shoulder like a vise. Fabricated lizards weren’t properly cold blooded, but freezing air slowed them down.
“Hang on there, beastie. I’ll have a mission for you soon.”