Complication

Chapter Eleven

They heard an explosion and the timbers of the Aggregate shook violently.

“What was that?” Debora asked, rushing to the side of the ship.

“We’re taking fire,” a twin said.

Glen’s camp was not far off on the horizon. Several rows of specialized wagon-mounted cannons were set up and pointed at a high angle in their direction. They saw smoke rise from them, a moment later came the sound of the blast, another moment passed and the ship shook again.

Regat busted out of his cabin door, his flask in hand. “What is this ruckus that dares to bother my drinkin’?”

“Cannon fire.”

“Impossible,” said Regat. “We are too high.” He hobbled across the deck on his wooden legs. They were hit again and a splash of his drink went overboard. Regat snarled. He barked some orders to his non-existent crew. “Take us higher, men.” Then he pushed away from the side to work the switches and knobs of the panel outside his cabin himself.

“Do those work?” Michael asked. “Do those actually do anything?” Captain Regat snarled at him. Michael didn’t let up. “I’m just wondering, because, it doesn’t feel like we’re rising.”

“It’s an airship,” Regat said, “not an elevator. We are plenty high enough, they must have some pretty advanced artillery.”

A cluster of small cannon balls struck the front of the ship and splinters of wood went flying. They shielded their faces with their arms.

Debora brushed the remnants from her jacket. “Can we fire back?” she asked.

“The Aggregate hasn’t had any weapons since it was decommissioned,” Captain Regat replied.

“Great, we’re sitting ducks,” Michael said.

Just then, they heard a hiss. Collectively, they looked up.

“That’s not good.”

“Remain calm, it’s but one compartment,” said Regat.

Michael sputtered in disbelief. “Remain calm? Our balloon is popped.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Debora said. “It’s more like a bunch of balloons, hundreds of compartments of air. We can take a few hits and be alright.” As she finished, a second and third hiss started, both louder than the first. “I hope.”

  The blimp took a few more hits and began to show visible signs of shrinkage.

Cannon fire peppered the starboard side and the Aggregate rocked like it was on a stormy sea, making them struggle to keep their footing. The experience was sickening and the hissing was deafening. The blimp above them was a mere wrinkled up version of its former self. 

“Do something, Captain.”

“Ah indeed.” Captain Regat took a long, slow gulp. “That is some fine drink,” he declared, then he crammed his flask into an inside pocket. He looked up at the bottom of the blimp and examined its condition. “It’s not good, men. Fire up the auxiliary engines.”

“An engine, yes, finally,” Michael said.

Captain Regat threw a switch that started the emergency engines and they roared to life with the sound of strong wind. Rotors and blades slid out of the hull and began to turn. “That will only buy us some time,” he howled. “We still need to abandon ship.”

The front riggings, weakened by the cannon fire, ripped free with the sound of bursting wood. The entire ship tipped forward sending its loose contents skidding and tumbling down the deck. They all tumbled with it, toppling over themselves, catching hold of whatever they could. Michael kept a strong hold on the punch-rod, jabbing it into an eyelet of a cargo ring on the deck.