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“What? I’m not accusing you of anything—only pointing out the connection. The sap kills people the same way as the gas, but it takes a lot longer. And Miss Mercy’s seen lots of drug users at the end of their lives, on the battlefields and in the hospitals. She probably knows more about it, from more angles, than anyone in the world. But when she tried to reach the people from the Dreadnought … it was like they’d never existed. ”
Rector didn’t like the sound of that, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. “Or like someone took them away?”
“That’s one theory. That’s her theory, anyway. She thinks somebody important wants to keep the sap running, and keep the soldiers stocked up. ”
“Why the hell would anybody want to do that?”
Houjin shrugged. “It usually comes down to money. ”
“Money,” Rector echoed thoughtfully.
His companion drew up to a sudden stop, smacking him across the chest with his arm to get his attention.
A faint hum rumbled overhead. Nothing too loud, nothing too close.
Rector guessed, “Is that one of the pump rooms?”
“No, look higher. It’s the Naamah Darling, see?”
He couldn’t see a damn thing, so he grunted noncommittally.
Huey continued, “I bet they’re testing out the steering repairs. That’s why they’re out here, so they can take the ship low without hitting anything. ”
“Except the wall. ”
“Captain Cly won’t hit the wall. ”
“Even if Zeke’s on board, getting in the way?”
With a snort, Houjin said, “Probably not even then. ” He might’ve added something else, but the noise up above changed suddenly, slightly. A loud clapping sound. An engine revving higher. A twist in the ship’s direction that brought it almost immediately overhead.
“Is something happening?” Rector wanted to know, primarily because an airship falling on his head wasn’t high on his wish list of afternoon activities.
“I don’t … I don’t know. ”
They both listened hard and wondered what was going on, without being able to see it. Everything beyond a few feet was yellow or gray, so they used their ears to track the big ship, neither of them admitting to themselves or to each other that the craft sounded distressed.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” Houjin lied outright as the engine noise dipped closer.
“I don’t even know where we’d run to. Should we … look for shelter?”
The response was firm. “No. They’re not crashing, they’ve just—”
With a whir and the hiss of hydrogen, the ship leaped upward, taking on another hundred feet in altitude—or so Rector guessed, as if he had any real idea. “You think it could’ve been snagged on something, then got itself free?”
“That seems unlikely. ”
“But that’s what it sounds like. ”
Huey kept his voice level, but it was tighter than a drum when he said, “I’ll ask when I get back to Fort Decatur. Come on, let’s keep moving. ”
“How do you even know it was the Naamah Dar…” Rector lost track of his question, which trailed off and dissolved into the gas. “Huey?”
Before Houjin could reply, something heavy shot down from above—not a ship, and not a pump tube … in fact, nothing man-made. It was something screaming, something plummeting with a roar and a crash, landing against something half crumbled, and crashing through it with a symphony of splinters, cracking timbers, and toppling masonry.
And whatever it was, it kept moving.
