aren’t allowed to be angry with me anymore. But I must say”—her eyes strayed towards Nadira—”I’m wondering if I should be angry with you.”
“I just met her last night. I had a little adventure with pirates.” Very quickly I told her about my encounter at the Ritz and how Nadira had helped me escape.
“So you were going to team up with her instead of me?” Kate inquired with frightening calm.
“I thought you were all cozy with Mr. Slater!” I protested.
“She’s a complete stranger, Matt!”
I raised my hands, trying to shush her.
“Don’t shush me,” she said, eyes blazing. “I hate being shushed.”
“Then you should talk more quietly. Listen, she has the key.”
Kate faltered. “What key?”
“To the
Hyperion
’s cargo holds. She says they’re booby-trapped.”
“A likely story,” she sniffed.
“What about Slater? Do you trust him?”
“I think so, yes.”
“How much have you told him?” I asked.
“Just that I had the last known coordinates of the
Hyperion
.”
“That was cheeky.”
“It did the trick,” Kate said. “He’s willing to take us.”
“I want to make sure I trust him,” I said. “He’s not the only ship in town. We’ve got our own lead on a high flyer.”
“The
Sagarmatha
? Berth 32?”
“Oh.” I took a breath. “Slater’s ship, is it? Well, we’d better introduce everyone then.”
We walked back to the others. Slater was gazing patiently out over the heliodrome, and Nadira was staring hard at me. This was going to be complicated. Slater turned and strolled towards me, hand outstretched.
“Hal Slater,” he said. His grip was stronger than I liked.
“Matt Cruse.” I squeezed back as hard as I could. He squeezed even harder, then let go.
Nadira looked at me. “You didn’t tell me you already had partners.”
“I didn’t last night. Mr. Slater here is captain of the
Sagarmatha
. And Kate de Vries is a friend of mine with a special interest in the
Hyperion
’s cargo.”
“How do you do?” Kate said, offering Nadira her hand. Nadira took it reluctantly. She didn’t look at all pleased.
“Obviously we have some things to discuss,” said Slater. “Perhaps we could do so in private aboard my ship.”
“I think that would be a good idea,” I said, not liking the way he took control.
He was a handsome devil, and naturally I hated him on sight. He had a broad forehead, high cheekbones flushed with good health and vigour, blue eyes, and a square jaw. Wavy blond hair was swept straight back from his forehead, though I was happy to note that his hair was thinning somewhat at the temples. I thought his nose a bit bulbous—Kate, I hoped, might say it lacked refinement. And this too: he looked the slightest bit too big for his suit, like his body was merely putting up with it. It wanted boots and a leather aviator’s jacket. I wondered if Kate had noticed the two small holes above his left eyebrow where a ring had once pierced his skin, a common enough fashion among sky sailors—and pirates for that matter.
Slater led the way along the catwalk. Trailing in his dashing wake, I was aware of my torn and dirty overcoat, my scuffed shoes. I must have looked a proper beggar.
I kept hoping for a glimpse of his ship, but she was berthed directly behind an enormous Russian liner. It wasn’t until we were heading down the spiral stairs to berth 32 that I got a good look at the
Sagarmatha
, and she completely stopped me in my tracks. She was a beauty.
“Smitten already?” Kate quipped as she stepped around me.
Just looking at her made my stomach clench with envy. If the
Aurora
was like a magnificent blue whale, the
Sagarmatha
was like a tiger shark. I reckoned she was about a hundred and sixty feet from stem to stern, maybe thirty high, and all muscle. Her outer skin had been reinforced with an exoskeleton of ultralight alumiron, to protect her, I supposed, from the scuffs and collisions inevitable in salvage work. But
“I just met her last night. I had a little adventure with pirates.” Very quickly I told her about my encounter at the Ritz and how Nadira had helped me escape.
“So you were going to team up with her instead of me?” Kate inquired with frightening calm.
“I thought you were all cozy with Mr. Slater!” I protested.
“She’s a complete stranger, Matt!”
I raised my hands, trying to shush her.
“Don’t shush me,” she said, eyes blazing. “I hate being shushed.”
“Then you should talk more quietly. Listen, she has the key.”
Kate faltered. “What key?”
“To the
Hyperion
’s cargo holds. She says they’re booby-trapped.”
“A likely story,” she sniffed.
“What about Slater? Do you trust him?”
“I think so, yes.”
“How much have you told him?” I asked.
“Just that I had the last known coordinates of the
Hyperion
.”
“That was cheeky.”
“It did the trick,” Kate said. “He’s willing to take us.”
“I want to make sure I trust him,” I said. “He’s not the only ship in town. We’ve got our own lead on a high flyer.”
“The
Sagarmatha
? Berth 32?”
“Oh.” I took a breath. “Slater’s ship, is it? Well, we’d better introduce everyone then.”
We walked back to the others. Slater was gazing patiently out over the heliodrome, and Nadira was staring hard at me. This was going to be complicated. Slater turned and strolled towards me, hand outstretched.
“Hal Slater,” he said. His grip was stronger than I liked.
“Matt Cruse.” I squeezed back as hard as I could. He squeezed even harder, then let go.
Nadira looked at me. “You didn’t tell me you already had partners.”
“I didn’t last night. Mr. Slater here is captain of the
Sagarmatha
. And Kate de Vries is a friend of mine with a special interest in the
Hyperion
’s cargo.”
“How do you do?” Kate said, offering Nadira her hand. Nadira took it reluctantly. She didn’t look at all pleased.
“Obviously we have some things to discuss,” said Slater. “Perhaps we could do so in private aboard my ship.”
“I think that would be a good idea,” I said, not liking the way he took control.
He was a handsome devil, and naturally I hated him on sight. He had a broad forehead, high cheekbones flushed with good health and vigour, blue eyes, and a square jaw. Wavy blond hair was swept straight back from his forehead, though I was happy to note that his hair was thinning somewhat at the temples. I thought his nose a bit bulbous—Kate, I hoped, might say it lacked refinement. And this too: he looked the slightest bit too big for his suit, like his body was merely putting up with it. It wanted boots and a leather aviator’s jacket. I wondered if Kate had noticed the two small holes above his left eyebrow where a ring had once pierced his skin, a common enough fashion among sky sailors—and pirates for that matter.
Slater led the way along the catwalk. Trailing in his dashing wake, I was aware of my torn and dirty overcoat, my scuffed shoes. I must have looked a proper beggar.
I kept hoping for a glimpse of his ship, but she was berthed directly behind an enormous Russian liner. It wasn’t until we were heading down the spiral stairs to berth 32 that I got a good look at the
Sagarmatha
, and she completely stopped me in my tracks. She was a beauty.
“Smitten already?” Kate quipped as she stepped around me.
Just looking at her made my stomach clench with envy. If the
Aurora
was like a magnificent blue whale, the
Sagarmatha
was like a tiger shark. I reckoned she was about a hundred and sixty feet from stem to stern, maybe thirty high, and all muscle. Her outer skin had been reinforced with an exoskeleton of ultralight alumiron, to protect her, I supposed, from the scuffs and collisions inevitable in salvage work. But
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