The last thing Rue needed was to lose another crew member, this time to despair.
“I’ve ruined everything.” Percy was displaying the Tunstell family’s flair for the dramatic. “You’re one of my best friends and you love him. What if he dies and it’s all my doing?”
Percy was slumped over the helm, weighted by guilt. Luckily, they were floating fully in the breeze and needed no course correction, but he’d be pretty darn useless if they were attacked again.
Rue leaned forward and put her damp cat nose against his so he was forced to stare into her eyes. Then she licked his face in one massive swipe of her very rough tongue.
“Rue!” he sputtered, flicking one hand to get her away.
However, it did seem to bring him out of his maudlin humour.
Rue really wanted to talk to him but she needed to break her tether to Tasherit first. It took a whole city block back home, further during dry seasons. They could get the nets out between the balloons and she could run out to the furthest one – that might work. But could they cast nets during fast float? She could get the decklings to lower her in an improvised cat basket. But did they have rope long enough? They could dip up into the aetherosphere, but uncharted currents might yank them leagues away from their escort and course. They could head back to the Nile. Rue could dunk – full water immersion would do the trick.
But all these options would delay their journey. Right now they were making good time and had hunters after them. Aside from waiting until sunrise, Rue could see only one shipboard option for returning to human form. She gave a hiss of annoyance and, tail lashing, made her way down to engineering.
The boiler room was quiet as she climbed down the spiral stairs.
Everything but the absolute necessities had been cycled down, casting the big room in red tones and slowly shifting shadows. They must conserve as much fuel as possible if they were to make it to the source. Most of the sooties were off sleeping or on deck with the drama. Only two still tended the main boiler. Responsible for all the ship’s internal functions as well as engine and propeller power, the Big Kettle was never totally cool.
Aggie had, as always, made all the correct decisions. Rue didn’t have to like the woman to know she was good at her job.
Rue trotted through, annoyed by how the pads of her paws picked up soot. No wonder Tasherit avoided the boiler room.
“You!” accused Aggie.
Rue blinked at her slowly. Cat trust, cat calm.
Aggie seemed to find this annoying.
“Shoo! Get out. You’re not welcome here.”
Rue sneezed as a bit of coal dust got caught in her whiskers and then continued walking towards the back corner of the room where the preservation tank nested under its tea-cosy cover. She went up on her hind legs and kneaded it with her front paws.
“What on earth?” Aggie followed her.
Rue continued to pick at the cosy.
“You want to get inside it? Why? It’s not gassed at the moment.”
“Rrrrrourrt,” said Rue.
“Oh, of course. If you immerse yourself fully, you should get your humanity back. Certain you want that, ladyship? You’re a whole lot easier to kill when you’re nothing more than prissy human.”
Rue continued pawing.
“How could you let Quesnel get hurt? He was only up there because he was worried about you. I told him not to bother.” Complaining the entire time, Aggie pulled off the protective cover and cracked the tank top.
Rue leapt inside.
The orange-tinged liquid was cold and weirdly slimy. She took a breath and lowered herself until she was totally submerged in the stuff, even the tips of her ears and tail. At which juncture, the liquid cut off her tether.
She turned back into a prissy human.
Rue reemerged, gasping for air. She’d gone from the painful agony of shift to the general discomfort of the numbing feel of liquid. She hoisted herself out, entirely naked except for the slime, and decided to simply be at peace with this. She was a metanatural after all. She was bound to be naked in front of her crew. The two sooties on duty carefully pretended not to look.
Aggie didn’t care. “You’ve treated him shabby, poor lad. Taking advantage of his expertise and affection. Imagine boldly as to ask for an education of that kind!”
So Quesnel told Aggie that, did he? Well, to be fair, I told Primrose. “Now who’s prissy?” Rue wiped liquid from her eyes, nose, and mouth. She made a put-put-put sound, trying to blow the foul-tasting stuff off her lips.
Aggie almost stomped her foot she was that angry. “You owe him an apology!”
Rue said, “I happen to agree with you. Unfortunately, he was unconscious last I checked.”
“Try again!” A pause. “Wait. You agree with me?”
Rue rolled her eyes and marched towards the spiral stairs. “I didn’t think he really cared for me.”
Aggie followed. “But he’s been potty about you since the duck pond incident.”