cockpit hold the vasty fields of France?’”
“I thought you didn't do Shakespeare,” Everett said. He had studied Henry V the previous term. His English class had gone to see it in the round “O” of the Globe Theatre. The girls had adored it. All the way back on the tube and train they'd been pouty and theatrical. Everett had thought it sort of wrong to see a play in daylight, half outdoors.
“Never said that, sir,” Sharkey said. “What I did say was that psychos, freaks, and sociopaths quote Shakespeare. Take your pick of them.”
Everness 's crew crowded around the magnifier lens pulled over the green display screen on the radar binnacle. Outside, the great clouds tinged with the pink and yellow of snow ran on a wind from the north. Everness ran with them, her power exhausted, only enough power in the batteries to operate the bridge controls and hold her on a stable heading.
“Can I see a map?” Everett said. Sharkey raised an eyebrow; Captain Anastasia lifted her chin: do as he asks. The charts were stowed in tubes on a vertical conveyor belt. Sharkey pulled the chain and drew the loop of maps down and around. He unrolled the chart on the map desk, clipping the ends under brass rods.
“Where are we?”
Sharkey placed an emphatic finger. The names, the cities were the same, the features were very different. This map showed a smoke ring of power plants surrounding Paris, just as one encircled London.Beyond that wall of chimneys and cooling towers, furnaces and steam turbines, train lines and coal conveyor belts, the map depicted a landscape that was gouged apart with mines. Opencast mines the size of towns had been scooped out of the plain that ran from Paris to Belgium and Germany in Everett's world—High Deutschland on this map. Hills had been turned into pits; forests into ash-colored craters. This was a land stripped to the bone for coal. Everett tried to compare the outer Paris shown on the map with his memory of outer Paris, the time Tejendra had decided to take everyone in the car through the Channel Tunnel shuttle to Disney Paris. Tejendra and Laura had been fighting before they even got out of the Eurotunnel terminal at Sangatte. It had been one of those we-have-a-long-way-to-go-with-the-kids-in-the-back-listening kind of arguments, composed mostly of sullen silences.
“I think we're right in the middle of the flight path into CDG,” Everett said.
“Your acronym Mr. Singh?” Captain Anastasia asked.
“CDG. Charles de Gaulle. Europe's second busiest airport. Between Paris, Amsterdam, and Frankfurt, this is the highest density of aircraft movements in Europe. In fact, with the wind in this quarter, it'll take us right over the main runway.”
“How do you know this?” Sen asked.
“I'm interested in this sort of thing.”
“Aircraft movements?” Sen had a variation on a look, a very slight tilt of the head, that turned puzzlement into complete incomprehension, as if she were looking at something dragged up from the thickest silt at the bottom of the darkest lake in the deepest cave.
“I do know that we'll be setting radars off from here to Berlin,” Everett said. Captain Anastasia's eyes widened.
“Mr. Sharkey!”
He was at the radar monitor before the final syllable of his name was spoken.
“The sky is full of metal,” Sharkey said with wonder. “It's like astorm made of flying tin.” In the same instant the communications board came alive. A dozen voices hailed Everness. Everett had never been good at French, but he could hear the anger.
“Belay that racket Mr. Sharkey,” Captain Anastasia commanded. “I can imagine what they're saying.” She pulled down a microphone and thumbed for engineering. “Mr. Mchynlyth, any chance of motive power?”
“I havnae the power to make a cup of tea, let alone gallivant us all over the sky,” came the voice from the speaker. “That jump drained the batteries, or do you no remember that wee detail? I can just about keep our
“I thought you didn't do Shakespeare,” Everett said. He had studied Henry V the previous term. His English class had gone to see it in the round “O” of the Globe Theatre. The girls had adored it. All the way back on the tube and train they'd been pouty and theatrical. Everett had thought it sort of wrong to see a play in daylight, half outdoors.
“Never said that, sir,” Sharkey said. “What I did say was that psychos, freaks, and sociopaths quote Shakespeare. Take your pick of them.”
Everness 's crew crowded around the magnifier lens pulled over the green display screen on the radar binnacle. Outside, the great clouds tinged with the pink and yellow of snow ran on a wind from the north. Everness ran with them, her power exhausted, only enough power in the batteries to operate the bridge controls and hold her on a stable heading.
“Can I see a map?” Everett said. Sharkey raised an eyebrow; Captain Anastasia lifted her chin: do as he asks. The charts were stowed in tubes on a vertical conveyor belt. Sharkey pulled the chain and drew the loop of maps down and around. He unrolled the chart on the map desk, clipping the ends under brass rods.
“Where are we?”
Sharkey placed an emphatic finger. The names, the cities were the same, the features were very different. This map showed a smoke ring of power plants surrounding Paris, just as one encircled London.Beyond that wall of chimneys and cooling towers, furnaces and steam turbines, train lines and coal conveyor belts, the map depicted a landscape that was gouged apart with mines. Opencast mines the size of towns had been scooped out of the plain that ran from Paris to Belgium and Germany in Everett's world—High Deutschland on this map. Hills had been turned into pits; forests into ash-colored craters. This was a land stripped to the bone for coal. Everett tried to compare the outer Paris shown on the map with his memory of outer Paris, the time Tejendra had decided to take everyone in the car through the Channel Tunnel shuttle to Disney Paris. Tejendra and Laura had been fighting before they even got out of the Eurotunnel terminal at Sangatte. It had been one of those we-have-a-long-way-to-go-with-the-kids-in-the-back-listening kind of arguments, composed mostly of sullen silences.
“I think we're right in the middle of the flight path into CDG,” Everett said.
“Your acronym Mr. Singh?” Captain Anastasia asked.
“CDG. Charles de Gaulle. Europe's second busiest airport. Between Paris, Amsterdam, and Frankfurt, this is the highest density of aircraft movements in Europe. In fact, with the wind in this quarter, it'll take us right over the main runway.”
“How do you know this?” Sen asked.
“I'm interested in this sort of thing.”
“Aircraft movements?” Sen had a variation on a look, a very slight tilt of the head, that turned puzzlement into complete incomprehension, as if she were looking at something dragged up from the thickest silt at the bottom of the darkest lake in the deepest cave.
“I do know that we'll be setting radars off from here to Berlin,” Everett said. Captain Anastasia's eyes widened.
“Mr. Sharkey!”
He was at the radar monitor before the final syllable of his name was spoken.
“The sky is full of metal,” Sharkey said with wonder. “It's like astorm made of flying tin.” In the same instant the communications board came alive. A dozen voices hailed Everness. Everett had never been good at French, but he could hear the anger.
“Belay that racket Mr. Sharkey,” Captain Anastasia commanded. “I can imagine what they're saying.” She pulled down a microphone and thumbed for engineering. “Mr. Mchynlyth, any chance of motive power?”
“I havnae the power to make a cup of tea, let alone gallivant us all over the sky,” came the voice from the speaker. “That jump drained the batteries, or do you no remember that wee detail? I can just about keep our
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