Skyjackers - Episode 3: The Winds of Justice (Skyjackers: Season One) (2 page)

“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 cheek
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?

“You’ll never take me alive, you wretched lawman,” Misty
screamed, cutting her bedroom to ribbons as Jonathan ducked and swayed to avoid
her.

“I’m not capturing you, I’m trying to—” Jonathan swiveled at
the hip to let the unfortunate lampshade beside him meet its gruesome end.

“You tricked me, you red-coated devil.” Misty put all her
might into a forward stab. The blade slid between Jonathan’s ribs and his arm
and buried itself inches-deep in the wallpapered plaster behind him.

Jonathan stepped away unharmed. A scarlet thread unraveled
itself from his jacket, caught in the blade. “Madam. Please. Calm down and come
with me. You’ll die up here unless you let me help you.”

Misty’s sword was stuck fast. She stopped trying to yank it
out and let her hands drop to her sides. Jonathan went to the door and beckoned
her to follow. When Misty came over, she threw a left hook that caught him on
the jaw and sent him staggering. She began to pummel him, as relentless with
her fists as she had been with her lips.

Jonathan found most of the blows unpleasant, but Misty wasn’t
so strong that they were unbearable. He crouched and threw the girl over his
shoulder, carrying her down the hallway as she writhed and screamed and
pounded. She cursed him, but Jonathan persevered until she was safely aboard
the
Maelstrom
and under guard. After searching the remainder of the
house and finding it empty, Jonathan was satisfied he’d saved everyone, and
gave the order to leave.

Misty proved a trying passenger. Jonathan had no grounds to
hold her against her will, even though she was a Caine. By the time the
Maelstrom
made landfall outside Roathea, Misty had bitten two marshals, cut down half a
dozen rigging lines, doused the bunks in the crew’s quarters with engine oil,
and fired off no fewer than three of the cannons, much to Jonathan’s surprise
and bewilderment. No one was seriously injured. Misty leapt over the railing
before the
Maelstrom
had even touched down, and ran off into the woods.

Chapter 17

Junior Caine didn’t like the look on his father’s face.
He had a feeling Benedict was about to ask him to do something he was
uncomfortable with.

“People in this fleet seem to enjoy keeping secrets from me,”
said Benedict, stroking his mustache as he reclined in the cushioned armchair
at the corner of his cabin.

Gertrude, the third and only other person in the room,
flicked her eyes at Junior. “What makes you say that, Ben?”

“A competent radioman is hard to find these days,” said
Benedict. “A loyal one, harder still. It’s bad enough second-cousin Poleax has
been playing tricks on me. Now I hear your Duncan Trice has been chattering
over the bluewave regarding our whereabouts.”

“Duncan would never do such a thing,” said Junior. “He’s as
loyal and competent a radioman as I’ve ever had aboard the
Stratustarian
.”

Benedict raised his eyebrows. “Is he? Then I wonder why my
new bluewave operator, Iain Bolliver, has been telling me otherwise.”

“Haven’t the slightest,” Junior said. “You, Mother?”

“What would I know about such things?” said Gertrude. In
fact, Gertrude did know about such things. Quite a lot about them, in fact. For
the past few months, she had been planning a surprise birthday party for
Benedict with his old shipmate Archibald “Greenbeard” McCracken. Gertrude had
instructed Junior’s radioman, Duncan Trice, to keep Greenbeard informed of the
Caine fleet’s movements so he could give Benedict a proper bushwhacking in
honor of the occasion. Now that Benedict had found the radioman out, Gertrude
thought perhaps she’d gone too far.

“I can’t very well send the traitorous Mr. Trice to the
Moonmist
,”
Benedict was saying. “I transferred my own radioman there after that debacle at
Bixbury Manor. I’ve a different punishment in mind for Trice, and I want you to
carry out the sentence.”

Junior gulped. “What would you have me do, Father?”

“A radioman’s livelihood is his tongue.”

Junior’s face went green. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes, June Bug. It’s about time you got over your
squeamishness. Don’t come back unless it’s with that slimy pink organ betwixt
your fingers.”

Junior left the cabin in a stupor.

“Don’t you think that’s on the harsh side of things, dear?”

“A traitor must be punished in accordance with his crime,
glitter-britches.”

Gertrude didn’t want to give away the surprise. Benedict was
a hard man to fool, given that he was always suspecting people of things—whether
or not they had anything to hide. She may have been immune to his suspicions,
but the people she’d enlisted to help her were far from it. “Did this Bolliver
chap happen to mention what these transmissions were about?” she asked.

“That’s the worst part of it,” said Benedict. “Trice has been
relaying our movements to… dare I say the name… Greenbeard. I should’ve known
that old salt was after my fortune.”

“You’re taking Bolliver at his word, are you? Despite that
he’s new?”

“I’m taking him at his word for that very reason. That he’s
new in my employ gives him less reason to mislead and more to impress.”

“Still… don’t you think you ought to check into it a little
further before you go ordering a man’s tongue out?”

“Junior won’t go through with it,” said Benedict. “He’s weak.
Hasn’t got the stomach for it.”

“Don’t be hard on him. He’s only a baby.”

“He’s a young man.”

“You’re sure about this?”

“He was a moment ago. Could be now that I’ve given him a
man’s task, he’ll change sex like he did in the womb.”

“I obviously didn’t mean that,” said Gertrude. “I meant are
you sure Junior won’t go through with it?”

Benedict shrugged. “Either way, I’ll enjoy watching what
happens.”

“You sound as sadistic as Misty.”

“Where do you think she gets it from?”

Gertrude did not respond. They sat in silence for a time, she
knitting and Benedict plotting. The fleet was at berth in the bay of Kailodos—all
except Vivian’s
Dawnhammer
, which Benedict had dispatched to retrieve
Misty. The sound of water lapping at the ship’s hull was foreign to them both,
and it served as interference for the tension between them.

When Misty walked into the cabin covered in dirt and blood,
both Benedict and Gertrude stared at her in disbelief for a moment before
rushing over and throwing their arms around her. Apologies were made. Tears
were shed. Mostly on Benedict’s part.

“Thank goodness Vivian found you,” Benedict said. “Where is
she? Your sister has saved the day.”

Misty’s expression darkened. “Vivian? What’s she got to do with
saving me? I hope she’s not taken the credit again for something she didn’t do.
I was apprehended by the handsome and daring Captain Thorpe, who swept me off
my feet and out of my knickers for a lover’s rendezvous.”

“Young lady,” Benedict shouted. “This is quite unacceptable.”

“You haven’t let me finish, Father. Thanks to my incredible
resourcefulness, I managed to take a nice meal in the city, despite some
terrible elderly man who kept whining about the patients needing their lunch.
Then I got some new clothes from a woman who seemed to think it was my fault
she’d left them hanging out where anyone could take them. And I borrowed this
sword from a man in a blue overcoat and a tall puffy hat who was standing
outside the gates of some spooky old chateau. Then some sailors refused me a
ride in their vessel, so I made my way here alone.”

“You look as if you’ve been through the ringer, darling,”
said Gertrude. “I’ll fetch the doctor.”

“How did you know where to find us?” Benedict asked.

“Simple, really. I asked Greenbeard.”

“Greenbeard,” Benedict muttered under his breath, spitting
out the syllables. “Bloody bognobbler.”

“What’s a bognobbler, Daddy?” Misty asked.

“Hush. Your mother’s right outside. You mustn’t ever repeat
that. Do you hear?”

“I think Mum is a bognobbler,” Misty said aloud.

Benedict cringed. “For the love of periwinkle… pipe down,
will you?”

Misty laughed and laughed.

“Greenbeard is an uncultured lout. Always doing rubbish
things like battening hatches and shivering timbers and other such piratical
nonsense. It’s chaps like him who’ve given us respectable swashbucklers a poor
go of it. And now he’s after the family fortune. It’s a wonder he didn’t hold
you for ransom when you contacted him.”

“He seemed very cordial to me,” Misty said. “In fact, he
asked whether I might pass along a message to you.”

Benedict was intrigued. “Really? What sort of message?”

“Oh, I can’t recall, exactly. Something about it having been
too long, and how you and he shall have to get together sometime soon.”

“I’m certain he’d enjoy that,” said Benedict. “Probably so he
can slit my throat and run off with your mother. He’s always been fond of her.
The scoundrel. Say… if Viv didn’t find you, I wonder where she’s got off to.
She should be back by now. The
Justice
will be underway in a few hours,
and she’ll be all the harder to sack without the
Dawnhammer
at our
disposal.”

“I’ve brought you a vessel, Daddy,” said Misty. “I told you
that before.”

“That’s grand, poppet. Thank you. But Daddy needs a big ship.
One like the
Dawnhammer
, so he can strike fear into the hearts of the
marshals.”

“It’s pretty big,” Misty said.

Gertrude cracked the door and poked her head into the cabin.
“Ben. You’ll want to see this.”

“See what? We’re in the middle of something, bunny-button.”

“Ben. Come outside. At once.”

Benedict followed her.

Misty followed him.

Moored to the
Cloudhopper
was an airship twice as
large, armed with dozens of cannon on three separate decks. Banners fluttered
from the tips of flagpoles atop the inflated gasbags. Benedict drew his
cutlass, assuming they were under attack. Then he noticed his crew staring at
the vessel in silent awe. He stood beside his wife and daughter, taking in the
sight. The big airship was empty.

“Mum?” Misty said. “Are you a bognobbler?”

“Wherever did you learn a word like that?”

“Daddy said Greenbeard was one.”

“Daddy has a vulgar tongue, and you’d do best not to imitate
him.”

Benedict scratched his head. “Misty… I thought you said you
made your way here alone.”

“I did,” she said. “Those nasty sailors told me I wouldn’t
know how to sail an airship if it were hanging from a batch of birthday
balloons.”

Benedict turned to look at his daughter. “What did you do,
poppet? What did you do to the sailors?”

She smiled. “I showed them they were wrong.”

***

“Where the devil are you, Thorpe? The
Justice
is
a third of the way to Cardemere, and the
Maelstrom
is nowhere to be
seen.”

Jonathan’s detour to Azkatla and his subsequent trouble with
the Caine girl had put him severely behind schedule. He had the
Maelstrom
’s
engines running at full steam in an attempt to intercept the
Justice
’s
pre-planned route, but at this rate the journey would be half over before he
arrived. “I apologize sincerely, Admiral. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

“No, you can’t. It would require more time than is available
to you.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“You had best be, Captain. I should like to meet with you
aboard the
Endeavor
when you arrive. Goodbye.”

When Jonathan handed the receiver to Vin Harlow, the
radioman’s look was dour. “What do you reckon that’s about, Cap’n?”

“I reckon he’s going to sack me, Harlow. Scratch that—I know
he is. What am I going to do? He must be at the end of his rope with me.”

“Don’t take it so hard, Cap’n. The Admiral is no easy man to
please. Why, he once gave a man the lash for eating on the job.”

“That doesn’t sounds like an outrageous punishment to me.”

“He was a chef.”

“Oh. Well, whatever the Admiral’s policies, I must adhere to
them from now on. I’m afraid I’m at perilous risk of receiving a demotion.”

“Mr. Manchester will like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind, sir. Forget I said a thing.”

“I can’t be demoted, Harlow. I need this command.”

“Best do as the Admiral says from now on then, Cap’n.”

“Right.”

***

Aboard the
Stratustarian
, Junior was having
second thoughts about the task his father had assigned him. And third, and
fourth thoughts as well. He steeled himself with a deep breath before entering
the ship’s radio room.

Duncan Trice looked up from his work. “Why, hello there,
Captain. This is a pleasant surprise.”

“I’m afraid it isn’t, Mr. Trice.”

“What can I do for you, sir?”

“You can start by telling me what all this nonsense I’m
hearing is about.”

Trice gulped. “Nonsense, sir?”

“About you betraying us to Greenbeard.”

“Betraying, sir?”

“Are you deaf, man? Yes, betraying. I’m told you’ve been
relaying our coordinates to the enemy.”

Trice feared Gertrude’s wrath a great deal more than
Junior’s, so he kept his mouth shut about the surprise birthday party for
Benedict. “Why, I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

“Have you, or have you not leaked information about the fleet
to one or more individuals outside the Caine organization?”

“Forgive me for saying so, but… you’re looking awfully sharp
in that jacket today, Captain.”

Junior smiled. “Oh. Thank you. Wait a minute. No
distractions, Trice. Now… what were we talking about?”

“Your exceptional sense of style, I believe.”

“Right. Wait. No. It was about the radio.”

“No, Captain. It was your outfit.”

“Stop it. We were talking about your betrayal. By which I
must admit I’m rather shocked. Anyway, it’s time I gave you your punishment. Do
kindly stick out your tongue and lay it on the table.”

“Sir?”

“You heard me, Trice. This is happening. You’d best accept it
like a man.”

“You’re going to cut out my tongue?”

“It’ll be good for you. Your teeth won’t rot so quickly.”

“Did Commodore Caine tell you that?”

“Why does everybody think I hear everything from Father?”

“You know what would be a more fitting punishment, sir?”
asked Trice.

“What’s that?”

“Tickle torture. I am extremely ticklish. I burst into
senseless laughter at the slightest provocation. Furthermore, I’d learn my
lesson without any permanent damage having been done.”

Junior considered this. He had to admit, it did sound like
the best of both worlds. What he didn’t know was that Duncan Trice wasn’t the
least bit ticklish anywhere on his body. He was very good at pretending,
though. “Very well, Mr. Trice,” Junior said, plucking the feather from his
tricorn. “Take off your boots and tunic. Let the punishment commence.”

***

Vivian and the
Dawnhammer
were on their way to
the attack point where Benedict had been planning to intercept the
Justice
.
She hadn’t had time to fly all the way back to the Kailodean Archipelago, so
after abandoning Misty in Azkatla, Vivian had decided to meet the rest of the
fleet there instead. When she arrived, however, she found an intact dreadnought
with a full complement of Regency airships to escort it.

Vivian followed them for a time, keeping her distance so as
not to appear suspicious. To her horror, the
Maelstrom
soon joined the
ranks of the Regency cavalcade. She saw them make a personnel transfer between
ships, but there was no other activity. After several hours, there was still no
sign of her father or any of the Caine fleet. She went to the radio room and
called the
Cloudhopper
via bluewave radio, but no one answered.