Coggler's Brood (Work in Progress)

Chapter 4

With the mail packet stopping at a number of different trading stations and free floating colonies, it takes us five days to reach Port Benson.

When Jack and I finally exit the captain's cabin, early on a fine sunny morning, it is to find the ship deserted. They sure are efficient about keeping our identities secret.

I thought we might be winched ashore the same way we boarded: in mail bags. Instead, we are allowed to walk freely down the gangplank onto the solid ground of the floating island.

Port Benson is a mid-altitude settlement: intermediate between the high altitude city states and the low altitude Reaver realms. When the Gaia Foundation saved planet earth, by re-engineered human DNA so humans could only live at high altitude, before committing genocide by wiping out ground based humans for ever, they inadvertently produced low altitude versions as well. Uncomfortable at high altitude, but not at home on the surface either, Reaver culture has developed over hundreds of years at these lower altitudes.

This island is a meeting point between these high and low altitude cultures. It is also at these intermediate altitudes that Reaver pirates, like the famed Anabella Steenkamph, ply their trade. Stealing up to snatch unsuspecting merchant shipping before dragging their victims down to the Reaver depths.

The docks are crammed with the ships of Reaver traders and City State merchants. There is even the odd pure white Microtough ship nestled in among the bobbing blimps.

We have docked alongside a pontoon attached to the main structure of the settlement. It is these pontoons, projecting out all around the main island, that gives Port Benson, when approached from above or below, its distinctive pin-wheel shape.

From the deck of the mail packet, a mass of airships curve away in either direction and I get my first look at Reaver sailing ships. At lower altitudes the wind blows significantly stronger, and the skies are more often overcast, so most Reaver ships rely on sail power and mechanical devices to drive their airships rather than solar energy.

In addition to the large propellers, used mainly for steering, which are power by humans running in giant hamster wheels, Reaver airships have masts. These are folded neatly alongside the hulls of the Reaver ships, waiting to be hoisted out and rigged with canvas sails. This is a different kind of airship, one with which I told Stan Walligham I have experience. I lied.

Among the cosmopolitan hordes swarming in the sunshine past the tall narrow warehouses that line Port Benson's docks, my Reaver garb fits right in, so too would my New Frisco guild uniform. In this sort of throng, anyone can go unnoticed.

Barely has Magnus started escorting us towards the dock where the next ship on our journey awaits us, than I am hailed by someone from the crowd.

"Nina, Nina, wait up Nina."

I try to ignore the voice calling me, but I know that voice and realize it is useless. Scud will never give up, and the more I ignore him, the harder he will try.

Magnus tries to hurry us along, while constantly glancing around, trying to detect the source of the caller.

"Nina, wait up."

Abruptly, Magnus stops and whirls round, reaching for the pistol in his cross belt and searching the crowd for Scud. I fling my arm across his chest to prevent him drawing the gun and he looks up in alarm.

"Let me deal with this, Magnus. No need for violence."

Magnus lowers his hand to his side, but not before I notice a thin blade appear from up his arm. I must remember that one: a spring loaded knife-holder up the sleeve—neat. Magnus might be prepared to let me handle the situation initially, but he's still ready for violence.