Read Online On Discord Isle by Jonathon Burgess - Free Book Online
Authors: Jonathon Burgess
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crouch and adjusted her gas mask. The catwalk she hunched upon led from the gas bag entrance behind her to the larger walkway balanced upon the central strut. The old Mechanist stood farther along it, shrouded in his heavy leather greatcoat and gas mask. He held a long metal wand in one hand and swept it back and forth, checking for gas leaks.
The older Mechanist was clearly everything Allen aspired to be. Responsible for maintenance aboard the airship, he focused on his duties with a kind of cold fanaticism. Where Allen was nervous and annoying, the Mechanist was stoic and secretive. Lina didn’t even know his name.
Lina had been lounging near the stern deck with Rastalak when the Mechanist had appeared to dragoon them both. This wasn’t uncommon. Tradition held that the work of a ship’s Mechanist was more important than almost anything else. Right now that meant hunting down a gas leak. Thankfully, it had only been the one cell, and quickly tended by the two of them. At the old man’s direction, they’d ripped out the leaky cell, put in the new, and were now charging it up.
Lina turned back to her friend. “He’s finished looking over the stern,” she said, voice muffled by the mask. “Is that done yet? I want to get this over with.”
Rastalak blinked up at her, his nictitating membrane slightly slower to clear away. Shorter even than she was, Rastalak wore only a pair of trousers with a hole cut in them for his tail. He prodded the bag carefully with the back of one talon, then nodded and closed the locking valve on the gas cell. Rastalak worked slowly and deliberately. The bandages swathing his hands obviously made the movements difficult.
“Full,” he said. His voice was raspy still from the smoke he’d inhaled aboard the Minnow .
“Let’s pack up then,” said Lina. She bent to help him seal up the canister and unplug the hose.
“You are twitchy,” he said when they were done. “Nervous.”
“These cells are just waiting for a stray spark,” she grunted.
The reptilian pirate shook his head. “It is just as dangerous, when we are down below.”
Lina frowned. “Yes, but it’s different, standing here and looking at the things.”
He hissed in amusement.
Lina stood and stretched, ignoring him. She walked over to the Mechanist, boots clanging on the catwalk. He looked down at her approach.
“Is the task complete?” he demanded.
“Yes, sir,” said Lina. “Topped up and good to go.”
“We shall see,” said the Mechanist. He stalked over to wave his wand around the replacement cell. The Mechanist examined a small box on his belt and then nodded. Bending past Rastalak, he then prodded the cell with a finger and checked its seal. “Sufficient, for now,” he said. “I shall finish up here myself. You are free to return to your duties below.”
And not even a thank you. “Yes, sir,” she said, trying to sound chipper.
When she’d been new to this life, the Mechanist had been as much a mystery to her as everything else. He’d been one of the few people to treat her decently back then, ignoring her past in favor of her natural proficiency with the airship’s machinery. Fengel had consistently sent her to assist the man because of this, hoping to have someone on his crew who knew how the Dawnhawk really worked. Familiarity had ended up breeding contempt though, and in the end she realized that the Brother of the Cog saw her the way he did everyone else; as tools of lesser or greater quality. He was all right in the end, and it was never wise to cross him, but now she found him largely overbearing and tedious.
Lina ducked past the Mechanist for the hatch back outside. She unlocked it and pushed it wide, letting bright daylight and fresh air flood the gas bag interior. Lina scurried through, putting hands and feet to the now-familiar rigging. Outside, the canvas skin of the gas bag was a dun wall stretching in every direction, a net-wrapped counterpoint to the vast expanse of
The older Mechanist was clearly everything Allen aspired to be. Responsible for maintenance aboard the airship, he focused on his duties with a kind of cold fanaticism. Where Allen was nervous and annoying, the Mechanist was stoic and secretive. Lina didn’t even know his name.
Lina had been lounging near the stern deck with Rastalak when the Mechanist had appeared to dragoon them both. This wasn’t uncommon. Tradition held that the work of a ship’s Mechanist was more important than almost anything else. Right now that meant hunting down a gas leak. Thankfully, it had only been the one cell, and quickly tended by the two of them. At the old man’s direction, they’d ripped out the leaky cell, put in the new, and were now charging it up.
Lina turned back to her friend. “He’s finished looking over the stern,” she said, voice muffled by the mask. “Is that done yet? I want to get this over with.”
Rastalak blinked up at her, his nictitating membrane slightly slower to clear away. Shorter even than she was, Rastalak wore only a pair of trousers with a hole cut in them for his tail. He prodded the bag carefully with the back of one talon, then nodded and closed the locking valve on the gas cell. Rastalak worked slowly and deliberately. The bandages swathing his hands obviously made the movements difficult.
“Full,” he said. His voice was raspy still from the smoke he’d inhaled aboard the Minnow .
“Let’s pack up then,” said Lina. She bent to help him seal up the canister and unplug the hose.
“You are twitchy,” he said when they were done. “Nervous.”
“These cells are just waiting for a stray spark,” she grunted.
The reptilian pirate shook his head. “It is just as dangerous, when we are down below.”
Lina frowned. “Yes, but it’s different, standing here and looking at the things.”
He hissed in amusement.
Lina stood and stretched, ignoring him. She walked over to the Mechanist, boots clanging on the catwalk. He looked down at her approach.
“Is the task complete?” he demanded.
“Yes, sir,” said Lina. “Topped up and good to go.”
“We shall see,” said the Mechanist. He stalked over to wave his wand around the replacement cell. The Mechanist examined a small box on his belt and then nodded. Bending past Rastalak, he then prodded the cell with a finger and checked its seal. “Sufficient, for now,” he said. “I shall finish up here myself. You are free to return to your duties below.”
And not even a thank you. “Yes, sir,” she said, trying to sound chipper.
When she’d been new to this life, the Mechanist had been as much a mystery to her as everything else. He’d been one of the few people to treat her decently back then, ignoring her past in favor of her natural proficiency with the airship’s machinery. Fengel had consistently sent her to assist the man because of this, hoping to have someone on his crew who knew how the Dawnhawk really worked. Familiarity had ended up breeding contempt though, and in the end she realized that the Brother of the Cog saw her the way he did everyone else; as tools of lesser or greater quality. He was all right in the end, and it was never wise to cross him, but now she found him largely overbearing and tedious.
Lina ducked past the Mechanist for the hatch back outside. She unlocked it and pushed it wide, letting bright daylight and fresh air flood the gas bag interior. Lina scurried through, putting hands and feet to the now-familiar rigging. Outside, the canvas skin of the gas bag was a dun wall stretching in every direction, a net-wrapped counterpoint to the vast expanse of
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