Challenger - Airborn fanfic - Chapter 1

Chapter I:  Homeward

The Challenger sailed silently over the south Pacificus.  The island was a small black splotch on the water.  We were making our final approach.  Soon we would be home.

I was up in the crow’s nest, watching the sky.  The view from the control car was limited; the Challenger’s bulbous body blocked out half the sky.  I was the pilot’s second set of eyes.  It was my job to watch for any ships, balloons or flying predators that might damage the Challenger.  And, of course, for the Sky Guard.

A flash of light caught my eye.  There was a small, dark silhouette floating over the island.  I took a look through my binoculars.  It was a small balloon.  The pilot was tinkering with the burner.  He had his back to the Challenger.

I heard a voice through the speaking tube.  “Brigid, report.”  Good.  Dad was flying.  He was a brilliant pilot.  He would be able to dodge the balloon and still land safely.

I made a quick measurement with my sextant and said, “Small balloon, one pilot, 22 degrees to starboard, 13 degrees below.”

“Altitude?”  A note of tension had crept into my dad’s voice.

“At least 1,100 feet.”

“Get out the darts.”

“Yessir.”

I opened a box that Dad had managed to stuff into the crow’s nest.  Inside was a collapsible telescope stand, a rifle and a case of poison darts.  They were here to keep stray balloonists away from this part of the Pacificus.  Dad was a little paranoid about the island.  If the Sky Guard found it, we’d be finished.  They’d take the Challenger, and my little brother, Theo.

I cranked the crow’s nest’s glass dome open and set up the rifle, the wind whipping through my hair.  The balloonist was still looking away from the Challenger.  Hmm.  Balloon or balloonist?  ...Balloonist.

I centered the rifle’s crosshairs between his shoulder blades and fired.

The balloonist fell forward and hit his head on the burner casing.  He’d feel that tomorrow—but he wouldn’t remember a thing.  The poison was known to cause memory loss, hallucinations and freakish nightmares for days before killing you.

Without the pilot tending to it, the balloon drifted upward.  The Challenger dipped as Dad vented some of her hydrium, and the balloon floated up past us.

“What’s her name?” Dad asked, referring to the balloon.

I looked through my binoculars.  “The Endurance,” I replied.  “Must be a circumnavigation attempt.”

“I hope no one misses it.”

“Those balloons never come back.”

The Endurance drifted toward us, and Dad vented more hydrium, dropping the Challenger  underneath her.  As I closed the observation dome, I noticed twelve big gashes on the Endurance’s gondola.  I leaned over to the speaking tube and said, “The cloud cats are back.  That balloon has scratches all over it.”

“Lovely,” my dad said.  “The carnivorous flying squirrels return.”

I heard Crenshaw’s muffled voice.  “Open season,” he remarked.  My dad laughed.

I felt the Challenger shudder as Dad dropped some of her ballast.  She leveled off and hovered in place as some of the crew jumped off and tied her to her mooring mast.  When she was secure, I climbed down the crow’s nest ladder to the keel catwalk.  On the way down, I caught the scent of mangoes.  One of the Challenger’s gas cells was leaking hydrium.  Looping an arm through the rungs of the ladder, I found the leak, swiped it with glue and patched it.

Below me, Crenshaw stopped on the keel catwalk.  “Brigid!” he called.  “What are you doing?”

“Fixing a hole!” I replied.  “Your wife can’t sew to save her life, Crenshaw!  Soon this cell is going to have more glue than stitches!”

“It already does!” he shouted.  He laughed and walked off.

I liked Crenshaw.  He was Dad’s first officer, and one of the nicer members of the crew.  He didn’t treat me like a child, and he let me fly the Challenger sometimes.  Officer Crumlin never let me fly, even though I was a better pilot.  Sexist pig.

I jogged down the keel catwalk to the Challenger’s bow and climbed down the rope ladder dangling from the main hatch.  Dad was waiting for me.  He fell into step beside me and we walked back to the village together.  He was dressed like I was—leather boots, thick belt, collared shirt, head to toe in black.

“Did you remember something for Theodore?” my dad asked.  “He still hasn’t forgiven me for last time.”

“I remembered,” I replied, reaching into my pocket to make sure I really had.  “You don’t think he’s still awake, do you?”

“He is,” Dad said.  “I doubt he’ll go to sleep until we tell him a story.”

“And give him his presents,” I added.

Dad and I walked through the village.  It consisted of groups of circular huts, scattered around the beach.  They were made out of bark and driftwood, with palm fronds for thatch.

A door opened in one of the huts and my friend Ellie ran out.  She was wearing a pretty yellow sundress, and her hair was tied back in a ponytail, like mine.  “Brigid!” she shouted.  “You’re back!  Where did you go?  What ships did you see?”

My dad walked on without me, and I stayed behind to talk to Ellie.  “We went to Australia,” I said, “and we sacked a passenger liner—the Agave, I think.  And then, on the way back, we found a charter ship that had been blown off course in the trade winds, so we looted that one, too.”  Ellie nodded in excitement.

“And then we accidentally spiked it,” I concluded, putting air quotes around “accidentally.”  I was referring to the 31-foot spike on the Challenger’s nose.  If an airship was small enough, we’d ram her and puncture her gas cells.  Without hydrium, she’d sink very quickly.

“You’re so adventurous!” Ellie gushed.  “Staying on the Challenger for the long runs!  I wouldn’t like being the only girl on board...but I think it would be worth it.  I can just imagine!  Brigid, you’re a pirate!”

I heard a voice from farther into the village.  “Brigid!  Hurry up!”

I turned back to Ellie.  “That’s Theo,” I said.  “I have to go.  See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Ellie promised.

I jogged back to Theo’s hut.  He ran outside to greet me.  “Brigid!” he squealed.  “Look what Dad brought me!”  He held up a small glass model of an airship.

“That’s pretty,” I said.  “And look at these.”  I pulled two coins out of my pocket and held them out to him.  “Two Australian nickels.  You don’t have any of these in your collection, do you?”

“Nope,” Theo said, grabbing the coins and inspecting them.  He pointed at one of them.  “What number is that?” he asked.

“That’s a five,” I said.  I grabbed his little hand and led him back inside.

I stood next to my dad in the hut while Theo put his coins away.

“Apparently he’s been up this whole time,” Dad said, nodding at Theo.

“Delilah made me go to bed,” Theo said.  “But I got up again.”

Dad shook his head.  “You need to go to sleep if you want Crenshaw to take you fishing tomorrow.”  Theo froze for a moment, and then blew out his candle and jumped into his hammock, a panicked look on his face.  My dad ruffled Theo’s blond hair, said goodnight, and walked back outside, closing the door behind him.

“You should sleep, too,” he said to me.  “We’re unloading the Challenger tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I replied.  “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

I walked to my hut and went inside, closing the door behind me.  As I lay down in my hammock, the Endurance floated through my mind.  The balloonist must have been old—his hair had been white.  He was crazy to attempt to circumnavigate the earth—and in a balloon, no less!  I would hate leaving my course up to the wind.  It would be almost as bad as being a passenger.

I suppose I felt bad about shooting an old guy with a poison dart.  But not really.  He might have given away the island.