Arabella blinked, sitting back on her heels. “No, I mean the whole machine.” She gestured, taking in the half-Turk and the desk, packed with clockwork, at which it sat. “What does it do?”
“He is our navigator,” the captain replied, and swung the panel shut over the fascinating, ticking mechanism. “Many airships employ clockwork navigators, but Aadim is the finest, most complex, and most accurate of any in the Company’s fleet.” He lay a proprietary hand on the automaton’s shoulder. “Aerial navigation is far more complex than its Earthly equivalent on sea or land, having six cardinal directions rather than four. In addition to north, south, east and west, with which you may be familiar”—as he spoke, he pointed up, down, left, and right—“we have sunward and skyward.” For sunward he pointed behind himself, to where the sun shone through the window, and for skyward he pointed in the opposite direction, toward the cabin door. “Add to that the vagaries of the interplanetary atmosphere, with winds of up to ten thousand miles per hour which may come from any of those six directions with little warning, and the fact that our ports of departure and destination are moving relative to one another, and I hope that you can understand how much of a help a first-rate navigator can be. It is Aadim who is responsible for Diana’s well-deserved reputation as the fastest ship in the Company’s fleet. And, if you will accept the lowly position of captain’s boy, I would like to train you in his operation and maintenance.”
Suddenly the intellectual game that Arabella had been playing, herself against the gears and wheels, fell away and she remembered the true stakes in play. Her mouth went dry. “You will take me to Mars? And allow me to leave the ship when we arrive?”
“I will take you to Mars,” the captain replied solemnly. “And, unlike the navy, the Honorable Mars Company does not indenture its men indefinitely. Though I do hope that you will return to the ship voluntarily, as most of my men do.”
Arabella swallowed. “Then I will accept your offer.”
“I am most delighted.” They shook hands, Arabella’s pale moist palm enveloped by the captain’s long dry dark fingers. “The work is hard, but I believe that you will find it rewarding.”
7
DIANA
Leaving the navigator, they returned to the deck. The three huge balloons had vanished from the sky above the ship; instead, acres of billowing Venusian silk lay on the deck, lines of airmen chanting a rhythmic work song as they heaved and folded the fabric into a box the size of a carriage.
“Envelopes struck, sir,” said the same officer who had greeted them as they boarded, touching his forehead with a knuckle. “They’ll be stowed shortly. Furnace-men will be by at eight bells, and the harbormaster’s cleared us for departure.”
“Very good, Mr. Kerrigan. Ashby here will be joining the crew, so you may dismiss the last boat.” He turned to Arabella. “Unless you have some possessions on shore to retrieve?”
Arabella swallowed. “No, sir.”
“I had thought as much. Welcome aboard, Ashby.” The captain turned to Kerrigan. “He will be serving as captain’s boy. Have Faunt show him where to stow his hammock.” Then he turned away.
“Excuse me, sir—”
“Pipe down!” Kerrigan cried, and with a start Arabella shut her mouth. “You’ll speak only when spoken to!”
But the captain turned back. “That is the general rule, but as you have come aboard at my particular request I will make an exception”—he held up one long lean finger—“in this one instance. Be aware, though, that I treat all my people equally and fairly, and you will not receive any special dispensation in future. Now what is it that you wished to say?”
Arabella had a thousand questions, but just one leapt to the forefront of her mind. “Why me, sir?”
The captain regarded her levelly for a moment. “An excellent question, Ashby. You are untrained, pale, weak, and spindly. However, very few men show the affinity for automata that I have seen in you this day. In this one area, I believe you have exceptional promise. And also, very significantly, Aadim likes you.”
Arabella blinked as the captain turned away. Was he serious?
What kind of ship had she just signed on to?
*
“Pass the word for the captain of the waist,” Kerrigan said to one of the airmen nearby, who immediately scurried off. He then stood with his arms folded behind his pristine uniform coat, inspecting Arabella coolly. Not knowing what else to do, she stood where she was, following the officer with her eyes as he paced around her.
“Eyes front!” he bellowed suddenly. Wide-eyed, she stared straight ahead, reduced to listening as the booted footsteps plodded steadily around behind her.
“Captain’s boy, eh?” he said. “Never had one of them before. Perhaps the captain’s getting soft in his old age.” By now he had come around in front of her again. “How old might you be?”