Two of the balloons had lost a great deal of helium. Despite the resulting limpness, they were solid enough to withstand the weight of sooties crawling over them, applying slap patches. That was causing the airship to straighten, like a student caught slouching and chided into proper posture. Still, the school wasn’t floating anywhere without a refill, and that was going to be a challenge so far from the train tracks.

If anything, the whole operation was going suspiciously well. The attackers never intended to cause permanent damage, but instead to force a grounding. Did they want an evacuation also?

Sophronia almost slapped her forehead with her hand, she felt so stupid. They are after the airship itself! They want the school, and they’ve wanted the school all along. That’s what the pilot’s bubble infiltration was all about. They were surveying the darned thing, learning how it worked, determining whether it would fill their needs. They weren’t after war airships—they were after our school. It’s the biggest dirigible in the country.

Sophronia scanned the surrounding landscape. She gasped—quietly, of course. For riding low and coming in fast toward them were three flywayman airships… big ones.

ABANDONED SHIP

One of the sooties noticed the incoming ships and shouted, pointing. There was nothing they could do. They were sitting ducks. Or more precisely, one great big huge sitting duck.

At that moment, three large men appeared, one on each squeak deck. They held fierce-looking guns, which they swung around, pointing from one sootie to the next.

The sooties reacted instantly. They were not fighters and had no cards in this game. They were merely laborers, and the lowest of those. Grunts in the boiler room. They, quite rightly, thought only in terms of saving their own skins. Most of them froze where they climbed, then turned to face this new threat.

One sootie panicked and jumped off the lower deck. He ran off across the moor, fortunately away from Sophronia’s hiding spot.

The forward deck Pickleman took aim and fired.

The sootie cried out and fell dead.

The man who had shot him raised a speaking tube to his mouth and shouted through it, loud enough for Sophronia to hear. Even though the leaking helium caused his voice to squeak, there was no mistaking the menace in his words. He sounded like a very angry mouse.

“And the same to any others who run. Now, you six, finish the repairs. The rest of you, prepare the fizz tube. We’re bringing in helium. Greasers, you’re with the boiler contingent. Don’t even think about plotting to countermand my orders. You work for us now, or you die, simple as that. Prepare the boilers to burn up. I’m with you to keep you on track. Do as ordered and you may even be rewarded for your troubles. Now move!”

The sooties—street-smart and blood-wary—did as instructed.

The man with the speaking tube vanished below. The two others stood firm, weapons at the ready to ensure no others broke for freedom. No other sootie tried.

The six chosen sooties dutifully finished up repairs and assembled amidships, shoulders hunched and movements cautious.

Sophronia wanted to go to the fallen boy on the moor, but she did not doubt the Pickleman’s aim. The boy’s path had no cover under the moonlight. That poor lad was likely beyond what little aid she could offer. The living needed her now.

She continued toward the ship. The men with the guns were focused inward, concerned with holding prisoners, not checking for possible infiltration.

Sophronia ended up directly below the aft section with the propeller and its lone smokestack above her. It was odd to see the airship so near the ground. The bottom part of the propeller almost touched the heather. Above her was the hold storage area, with the glass platform she’d ridden up the first time she came to Mademoiselle Geraldine’s. That platform was locked into place, and there was no other point of entry.

She turned her attention to the middle section, the lowest level of which was where mechanicals were stored and serviced. The kitchens were above that. This section had a loading bay with massive doors that opened like a cellar’s. Manned by mechanicals, these were too heavy for one person to push open. However, along the side between this and the hold, servicing the kitchen and dining hall above, ran a tube of dumbwaiters. There were rungs on the outside of the tubes, because the waiters often required maintenance. Sophronia shot out her hurlie at the lowest rung. She pulled back to get a grip and then climbed up. The incoming flywaymen were out of sight, and she was shielded from view by the bulk of the ship.

If the sooties had been ordered to prep the boilers, then her assessment of the situation was correct—the Picklemen wanted to kidnap the school. The incoming ships must be intending to provide cargo and crew. She would also lay very good odds that they intended to cannibalize the helium they needed from those balloons to reinflate the school’s.

She didn’t need to watch it happen. Soon as she could, she pulled out a hairpin and picked the lock of a maintenance hatch at the top of the dumbwaiter tube. It was relatively easy to climb down the inside. It was the right size for a girl bracing herself back and forth, although her wide skirts—even tucked up—gave the tube a thorough cleaning. Her climb was more an undignified waddle, but no one was watching. She felt that the kitchen was the best access point, since it was likely abandoned. Picklemen would think it beneath them to congregate in such a menial area.

The kitchen was indeed empty.

Sophronia found a small knife and, cursing her lack of pockets, fed it to Bumbersnoot. She filched a few apples, some bread, and a wedge of hard cheese, which she wrapped in her handkerchief, attaching it to her chatelaine. Lady Linette was very firm on the matter of nicking food. “A lady must always be prepared. Snacks are an essential part of espionage.”