30

Dark, polished wood encased an array of levers, dials, and buzzing gauges. Drawers in the control panel housed maps, so I set about attempting to find the quickest way to a shore closest to Outer City. Despite no real destination as of yet, I thought it prudent to get away from the facility lest Gustav or Kirkland decided to try to climb aboard the Chasm Walker. I got us underway, diving so that only the spy scope was above the water. We sliced through the sea at a surprising pace.

Ashton left me at the helm to inspect the ship and explore the engine room below. Down the corridor, Hunley searched the rooms. When she returned, she carried something in her arms and dropped them at my feet. Boots.

“They may be a little big, but better than bare feet, I imagine.” Hunley turned before I could say anything, hugging herself and peering out of the large windows of the submersible. She leaned in, staring at a passing swarm of eels. Their teeth lit up and they split, flowing past the vessel on either side. “This is…”

I nodded, adjusting the rudder, trying to remember what I’d learned from flying a dirigible with Riley. The movements came easily, as if my muscles recalled manning a ship in a distant past. Perhaps that was true.

“You are still bleeding,” Hunley remarked and pulled gauze from the pocket of her tunic. “Here.”

“Thank you.” I took it and dabbed the injury at my hairline. “I’m surprised you came.”

“So am I,” she remarked, pacing the helm. She leaned in, squinting at the controls. “Ashton said you plan on trying to make it to Outer City.”

“That is my intention, yes.” I examined the map with a magnifying lens, biting my lip. Perhaps the Georgia dome was the closest?

“How do you plan on getting up there?” Hunley asked.

I straightened, my devices firing as I stretched my muscles. Thinking for a moment, I looked at her, chagrined. “I have no idea.”

“Then why risk the journey? You said you were going after Arecibo.” She raised a brow, and it skewed the spectacles on her nose. “Or did you lie?”

“No. I did not lie to you. Arecibo will get his due.” Taking in a deep breath, I tried to explain. “He attacked there a few days ago, and from what I’ve learned at your morgue, he will likely return. And even if that is not the case, there are people in those ports whom I care about.” My voice cracked despite the effort to reel in worry. “They’re in danger.” My fingers found the baton in the pouch hanging from the belt at my waist, the feel of it eased my nerves.

“Hmm,” Hunley intoned. “From the Coalition armada.”

I turned to her, confused. “How do you know about that?”

“We may be secluded in that facility, but we do have an aethergraph receiver.”

I shook my head. “Are you in communication with someone at one of the ports?”

“No, the coded oscillation,” Hunley explained, walking over to the wall-mounted aethergraph machine. “We can receive it if we go out onto the ice. It is how we keep track of Union Patrols.”

“Blockade runners broadcast their positions,” I said, understanding. “So black market merchants and exile ships can avoid that part of the sky.”

“Precisely.” Hunley adjusted the dials on the aethergraph, her lips pressed tight with concentration. “Perhaps we need to surface?”

A few sparks sizzled on the roll of paper as the tracing rods moved of their own volition. I hurried over. The paper scrolled out and pooled on the floor as message after message scrawled across the paper.

“This is the looped emergency channel?” I remembered Lilah monitored it for news about Riley’s arrival. I took a length of the paper in my hands, frowning. “There must be hundreds of messages on here.”

“It is an open channel. Anyone can use it.” Hunley ripped off a piece, walked to the counter, and peered down at it. “I think we can pick out the ones from Outer City. There’s a designating sequence of letters that identifies the sender’s location if they add it.”

I followed suit, taking another section and sitting next to her. It was gibberish. Jumbled letters making nonsensical words. “It’s coded.”

“Yes, and only those who use it know how to decipher it,” Hunley intoned. “Unfortunately for us, Gretta was our code breaker. I believe that Outer City is these seven letters.” She pointed to a sequence on the aethergraph paper. “But that is all that I know. Gretta was very secretive about the whole thing.” Hunley leaned in conspiratorially. “I think she was a smuggler in her younger days.”

“Who is Gretta?” I asked.

“The kitchen sharp shooter?” Ashton asked as he sauntered back onto the helm. “She has terrible aim. Fired several shots at me from five feet away and didn’t even come close.”

“She dented your shield,” Hunley murmured. “Which you were holding right in front of your chest. She told me.”

“Doesn’t count.” Ashton shrugged. “No blood. No points.”

Hunley sighed and then nodded down the corridor. “Find anything useful?”

“Well, I’m sure you saw the weapons and what appeared to be diving apparatuses. Some other device I have not figured out yet, but it could be connected to some equipment in the engine room. I’m not sure.” Ashton hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “And a Trembler in one of the closets.” He narrowed his eyes at Hunley. “Thank you for that, by the way.”

“I didn’t put it there!” She snapped, her gaze going to mine. She stepped back, crossing her arms. “But this vessel can keep going for a while?”

“I believe so.” Ashton eyed the hatch in the ceiling. “We need to surface for fresh air periodically, but there is plenty of coal to run the machine. The exhaust trails out of the aft section via a series of valves as far as I can tell. It is quite a unique design, but I truly want to know to whom this vessel belongs. Judging by the cargo, they are trouble. Or at least prepared for some.”

An orange glow filled the inside of the vessel, and I spun on my heels, staring out the front of the helm. Lava bubbled and churned its way out of a crevice in the sea floor below. The wash of heated water shook the Chasm Walker as it passed beneath us. I hung onto the yoke, riding out the turbulence, with teeth gritted.

“Pull the arms up,” Hunley said, reaching for the levers on the control bank. “They are extended, I think.”

I locked gazes with Ashton, my breaths coming in short pants. Enclosed, in water, trapped. Sweat trickled down my back.

“The hull can take the heat, c-correct?” I stammered. “What about upcroppings?”

“We have to keep an eye out, but steering this girl is as easy as a surface vessel,” Ashton said easily. He walked over and placed his palms over my fingers on the yoke. His thumbs brushed the mechanica on the back of my hands. Leaning in, his whisper caressed my temple, the heat of his words flaring a trill through my middle. “You are not back there with him. You are safe, with me.”

I swallowed hard, trying to nod.

“We will make it,” I rasped. “Because we have to.” I repeated the assurance he often used with me.

“Well, I’m not so sure about that,” Hunley said, concern lining her features. “Metal-clads sink all the time when their hulls are torn by moving rock and lava so, safe really is…”

Ashton shot her an exasperated look, but I chuckled.

“Yes, thank you, Professor Hunley.” I moved from Ashton, smoothing my tunic and taking a calming breath. “Sometimes the truth is hard to face. So we face what we can and keep going.” I blinked, remembering those words coming from my own lips before.

“Well said.” Ashton slid his hand along my arm, squeezing gently. To Hunley he asked, “Have you two come up with a direction?”

Hunley stared at us for a beat before answering, and I wondered if Ashton’s affection for a monster like me bothered her. She cleared her throat. “We were attempting to.” Then her face lit up. “Wells, you would know this, correct? You’re always finding ways to steer clear of patrol ships. You must use this channel.”

Ashton took the section of paper and tilted his head, reading. “Yes. It’s a substitution code.” He glanced at me. “Remember on that black ship? Berkley used it to figure out what Lizzie sent out over the aether?”

“Oh,” I gulped. “Yes, I remember.” It was a message about my father. Naming him a traitor and setting a hefty price of silver on my own head.

Ashton patted his pockets. Smiling, he reached into his leather vest and pulled out the lettered wheel.

“Of course you have it,” Hunley said.

“Well, it is spy craft, Pru.” Ashton nudged her aside and settled next to me. He picked up a pen and started scribbling on the edge of the map. “Let’s start with these.”

It took nearly an hour of searching before he found it. Ashton read it, his brow furrowing. “Here it is. A message from Outer City.”

“What does it say?” I leaned into his space. “Are they all right?”

“This cannot be accurate.” He checked his instrument again. “The location does not make sense. Neither does the elevation.”

“Were they attacked?” I rasped, a band of worry tightening around my chest.

“No, they are over the water.” Ashton peered out through the upper windows. “They say a storm is coming and they intend to chase it.”

“Why would they do that?” Hunley cried and shot Ashton a look. “Are all the people you know insane, Wells?”

“To hide,” I said and tapped the map, remembering the town meeting after the ship crashed into the port. “Their Weather Master, Mr. Percy, was talking about a squall.” I shook my head, reading the heading. “Can they go this low and not crash?”

“I would never think so.” Ashton scratched his nose with the pen. “The rotors would falter, maybe stall altogether.”

“It’s a last-ditch effort,” I said, blinking against the sting in my eyes. “To survive the attack. They’ve no real defense. And not everyone can detach or be moved. This sounds like Riley. He’s trying to keep those left behind safe.”

“Yes, that sounds like him.” Ashton sighed, tossing the pen onto the counter. “If the armada doesn’t find them and blow them from the sky, then the storm itself may very well rip them to shreds. There’s nothing more than wood shacks and rickety buildings up there.”

“And we’ve no real idea how long until the Coalition attacks.” I grabbed Ashton’s sleeve, my pulse racing in my ears. “Cephas said it could be inside a week. It’s been days since we fled the port!”

“They are likely already on their way.” Ashton rubbed his neck. “Or there to greet us when we arrive. No way to know for sure.”

“So, we’re heading to a possibly sinking city, in a raging storm, to fight an armada?” Hunley blew out a breath, her face pale. “What have you gotten me into, Blackburn?”

“A good fight,” I said, steeling my nerves. “A worthy one.”