The boys waited patiently for a while, eyes scanning the sky. Far below them, Alexandros could see green fields and forests sliding by, as though a child were pulling her blanket from atop a bed.
Eventually, Militanus stood and rang a small bell.
“Drill is over, stow the weapon and return to your posts.”
The crew chattered as they unloaded the weapon, carefully returning their unused ammunition and releasing the tension in the bound coils that provided the weapon’s power. Alexandros secured the ballista mount and exited the room, followed closely by Cadet Tuderis.
“Waste of time if you ask me,” the other boy volunteered.
Alexandros thought for a moment about how to reply. He barely knew Oclai Tuderis, but had heard his name mentioned by several of the mekanics and engineering professors at the academia.
“I think it is always a good thing to practice. One cannot be too prepared.”
Tuderis gave him a look.
“You say that now, but wait till it is happening at four in the morning.” Alexandros had to consider the validity of his point. He opened his mouth to respond as they turned the corner to the engine room. Tuderis forestalled him.
“You smell that?”
Alexandros took a sniff. Smoke. His eyes widened in alarm.
“Fire! We’ve got to help them!”
The two teenagers rushed forward. Tuderis got there first, grabbing the door handle and yanking it open. A backdraft of heat and fire exploded out into the hallway. Alexandros felt himself tossed around and slammed into a metal bulkhead.
Blackness.
“Come on, damnit. Gods curse it, wake up!”
Someone was shaking his shoulders, and Alexandros could feel pain radiating out from the motion. He managed to lift his other arm and push the offending interrupter away. A pair of hands hauled him to his feet. His ears rang, and the disorientation was overpowering. An alarm began to wail in the background.
“We’ve got to move away from the fire. The emergency response teams are trying to smother it now,” the voice said.
His unseen helper dragged him a few more steps. Finally, Alexandros mustered the strength to open his eyes. His vision was blurry, but slowly sharpened as details came into focus. He turned to look at his rescuer.
Cadet Militanus was there, his dark face streaked with sweat. He manhandled Alexandros through the passageway and past the last bulkhead. The air was cleaner there, and Alexandros gulped great breaths of sweet oxygen into his lungs. The pounding of feet announced the arrival of the emergency response team. The crewmen were outfitted in heavy overcoats with thick gloves designed to protect against the fire. They wore heavily tinted goggles over their faces and flat helmets on their heads.
But how will they put out the fire with such a small supply of water? The ship’s water bunkers were only designed for short flights and needed to be constantly replenished. Milantus gently lowered Alexandros down into an alcove. He stood up and winched open the window slightly to allow cooler air to seep into the passage.
“Here,” he said, handing the dazed cadet a canteen. Alexandros drank deeply, then remembered-
“Where is Oclai? He was right ahead of me!” he croaked.
Milantis shook his head. “Don’t worry, I got him before I grabbed you. I had to crawl to get to him.” He showed Alexandros his blistered palms, which had turned an angry red. “One of the instructors grabbed him and took him to sick bay. So, I was able to come back for you.”
Alexandros took another long drink from the canteen. He could feel his strength returning as the cool water washed the smoke and charcoal taste out of his throat.
“I’m going to go help them,” he stated, mustering his energy for the difficult task of standing. He reached up and grasped a convenient door handle. Leveraging his weight, he managed to pull himself upwards. The act made his eyes water and his lungs wheeze in protest.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Milantis scolded him. “Stay here, I just rescued you, I’m not going in again.”
Alexandros nodded, then stumbled back down the hallway. The smoke was dissipating somewhat as the crew inside the engine room got the fire under control. Small portholes had been opened in every room to help air out the vessel.
A group of the firefighters was gathered outside the room. Two rushed by with someone unrecognizable on a stretcher. One of the masked men turned to face him.
“Stay back, cadet. We’re done here, but the room is still hot. It’s nearly impossible to breathe in there.”
Alexandros hacked and coughed for a few moments before managing to inquire, “What happened?”
Another responder pulled off his helmet and brushed his sweaty hair from his eyes. “Looks like the intake flue wasn’t properly closed, and someone may have hit a wrong switch. We won’t be able to tell until the room has cooled off and the smoke has cleared. Until then, we are dead in the sky.”
Alexandros was impressed by this man’s knowledge of the situation. Must be one of our instructors. The man was looking curiously at Alexandros.
“Are you all right, cadet? You look a tad bit singed.”
Alexandros nodded, but nodding only led to a feeling of dizziness. Before he knew it, both men had grabbed ahold of him and lowered him gently to the floor.
“Too much smoke in the lungs, we’ll have to take him to the ship’s doctor,” one of the men was saying.
“Hang in there, cadet. Everything will be fine.”
Blackness swept over him again.
He awoke in the harsh rays of daylight. A small lantern swung fitfully above his bed, squeaking slightly. He rose slowly, feeling much better. The ship’s doctor came over to check him. A quick once over, a listen to his breathing, and he was pronounced fit for duty. Ordered to report to the bridge, Alexandros stopped by his bunk to change his clothes. His nose wrinkled, as he smelled his collar.
This thing will need to be washed.
Several times.
He threw water on his face and wiped it down with his towel, trying to get the worst of the grime off. After doing this twice, he switched shirts and pulled on a different pair of pants before shoving his feet hastily into his boots and clomping out of the room.
The hallways were quiet. No doubt most of the men were resting after the drill, Alexandros assumed. He reached the bow staircase and climbed the brief spiral to the top deck until he was right outside the bridge. Above him, he could hear the boots of men on the outside deck above. He rapped on the door, then turned the wheel mechanism slowly.
He thought it funny that, while many civilians assumed that they directed these airships from the rear-as in the olden days of wooden sailing vessels-the opposite was actually true. The command deck was located in the foremost part of the ship, with wide windows providing a beautiful panoramic view of the sky around the vessel.
The room itself contained the ship’s wheel, a large wood and brass bound construct that hung sturdily between two pairs of supports that rose from the floor. A cadet stood at the wheel, his back facing Alexandros as he entered. To the side, another cadet sat in the captain’s chair, head bowed in consultation with one of the instructors. Alexandros recognized him as Head Trainer Hartus Profias himself.
Around the room, cadets sat before various control panels. Alexandros recognized the engineering, navigation, and communications panels from where he stood. This was his first time on the bridge of the Imperio, as his team had not yet worked their way to the rotation on this point. The cadets on deck noticed him, peering curiously.
“Cadet Alexandros, reporting as ordered.” He saluted, restraining a cough as he spoke.