Dellen was back on deck, the hatch was closed, and rain rattled on metal.

The weather intensified, obscuring the visibility, making it difficult to discern the other ships in the fleet. The relentless water made it feel as though they sailed the ocean rather than the sky.

“Captain, this is bad, we need to climb above the storm immediately,” he yelled.

“I give the orders here Northcote,” she said sternly, then glanced at the weather, “Still a little caution is warranted. Stevens, Westlake, Bogsmith, secure yourselves!”

“Are we in another time loop?” Dellen asked Gilgamesh, trusting the weather to obscure their conversation.

“Yes, we’re in another time loop, good thing too, last I saw you, you were spread across the ground. Sort of like a paste, one of those little finger foods they served on a cracker at Victoria’s.”

“How colorful,” Dellen said with some irritation, “What about you?”

“I’d have floated down to the ground in this wonderful rain if we hadn’t looped back.”

“You should go below deck, I can’t hold on to you if you start to fall off again.”

“I’m not going below.”

Dellen dropped the matter and held on, watching the ship climb up.

Something slammed into the ship, pitching them sideways.

“What was that?” Dellen yelled, his voice barely audible above the deafening roar of the storm.

Their flight was smooth again for a handful of seconds before they were bumped in the other direction. The ship groaned under the strain. Dellen stumbled, reached out with his free hand, and anchored himself to the deck with a pulse of magnetism.

Dellen's eyes widened as a monstrous form flew by, just visible through the turbulence of the water. He caught glimpses of metallic-tinted sky-blue scales larger than his torso covering a serpentine snake-like body. Glistening with rainwater, coils undulated past the ship.

“Storm serpent!” Aurora yelled.

Dellen thought he heard one of the crew whimper. His time in Copperopolis had not exposed him to stories of Storm serpents, but it did not take a gifted intuitive leap to realize they were trouble.

“This is a problem,” Gilgamesh said with undue calm.

The storm serpent was large enough that they could only see a section of its body without a head or tail in sight.

A loop of the body twisted over the ship and dented a section of metal with a screech.

The Phoenix’s Flight listed to the side.

“Get it off!” Aurora yelled from the helm.

Dellen released Gilgamesh and ran across the pitched deck toward the scales. Up close they looked rough, with grooves running across the surface.

The ship dropped, pulling away from contact with the serpent.

Dellen dropped to his knees and could see over the prow that a loop of scales was beneath them, trying to come up and wrap its way around the ship.

The engines whined, and they shot through the loop like thread escaping the head of a needle.

“Hold on!” Aurora said, “We need to outrun it.”

Wind and rain pelted Dellen hard enough to sting even his resilient skin.

Another bump jostled them from below.

“It’s still here,” Aurora yelled.

A section of hull plating fell from the sky and slammed into the deck just ahead of Dellen. Then came another.

“There’s another serpent attacking the fleet!” Aurora yelled.

The Phoenix’s Flight was bumped up, hard.

“Brace yourselves for evasive manurers.”

Dellen slapped his hand onto the deck, locking himself in with magnetism, Gilgamesh flew over to him, and he wrapped his free hand into the section that looked least like to sever a finger.

Aurora spun the wheel, abandoning flying in straight lines in favor of escaping their tormentor.

Each movement of the airship was met with calculated counteractions from the storm serpent. It weaved through the sky with alarming speed, vanishing and reappearing in the rain, its body undulating like a living cyclone. The airship's hull quivered as the serpent's immense form grazed it, denting the hull and cracking panels.

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Again the serpent tried to wrap around the ship, and again Aurora pulled them away, flying down, between two loops, just escaping a brush with the scales.

“We’re going to make it!” Gilgamesh said.

Something hit the underside of the prow, pushing them toward the coil they’d just escaped. Dellen had just enough time to realize that he was about to be pinched between the ship and the scales.

Dellen was back on deck, the hatch was closed, and rain rattled on metal.

The weather intensified, obscuring the visibility, making it difficult to discern the other ships in the fleet. The relentless water made it feel like they sailed the ocean rather than the sky.

“Probably shouldn’t go up this time,” Gilgamesh said.

Dellen dashed over to Aurora.

“I told you to go below deck.”

“Captain, we need to get away from this storm fast. I feel Electrica Aether above us, ahead of us, and below us. We need to turn back he yelled over the wind and rain.

Aurora frowned at him. “Electrical Aether?” Her eyes flickered over his forged form. She spun the wheel, and the Phoenix turned about.

“As fast as we can, captain.”

The engines took on a new whine, and the wind on Dellen’s skin redoubled. For a minute he thought they had found a safe path.

There was a flash of light.

Dellen was back on deck, the hatch was closed, and rain rattled on metal.

The weather intensified, obscuring the visibility, making it difficult to discern the other ships in the fleet. The relentless water made it feel like they sailed the ocean rather than the sky.

“Probably shouldn’t go back either,” Gilgamesh said.

“Captain! I can feel the lighting!” Dellen lied, “We need to go down now!”

Aurora looked at him, then pitched them down in a controlled steep descent.

Dellen’s knuckles were white around the rope, with an arm around Gilgamesh.

“You could use magnetism to hold on.”

“I will if I start to fall. Holding on takes less attention.” Dellen looked about, hunting for the next mistake that was going to kill them.

The Phoenix’s Flight leveled off a hundred or so feet above the ground, and other ships from the fleet fell out of the clouds to join them.

Dellen’s knuckles returned to a more normal color, and he released Gilgamesh. Wind still whipped his coat, and rain lashed against the deck, but he didn’t feel that he was at immediate risk of falling overboard or dying. “How does this work?” He asked Gilgamesh, “Are we going to keep getting pulled back into the storm?”

“You know as much as I do.”

“Why are we here?”

“I assume in your previous life you made this trip as well. Remember, the only difference from last time is that Copperopolis didn’t get damaged. Thaddeus would still have made it possible to leave by airship.”

Dellen’s mind raced ahead. If he was still redeeming some mistake, re-treading paths from before, then he had to assume that his first trip out of the city had gone poorly, though it was hard to imagine how he would ever have survived this storm.

Rain pelted his skin, each droplet stinging a bit more than the one before. He shivered, cold to his bones in wet clothes, further chilled by a cold breeze.

He held on, one hand flat on the deck, ready to use magnetism if things got worse.

Ships from the fleet dropped down around them, some looking battered and scraped, others none the worse for wear.

Dellen squinted through the deluge, counting ships; he saw nineteen. The two with the most scrapes were missing engines but still kept up with the group, their captains pushing them to keep pace.

Rain continued to assault the airships for the next two hours, bouncing the ship around, intensity gradually subsiding as the storm passed. Though still violent, the wind no longer howled, and the ship’s timbers and plates no longer creaked.

The dark clouds overhead thinned, unveiling glimpses of grey amidst the black. Rays of sunlight pierced through the dissipating storm. Dellen calmed as the ship steadied in the air. His eyes darted about, and he kept looking for the next surprise.

“Check on the passengers,” Aurora called out.

A pale-faced Mr. Westlake dashed to the hatch, slid it open, and descended to check on the passengers.

“Stevens, Bogsmith, put on some dry clothes before you shiver your way right off the ship. You too, Northcote.”

Dellen was certain that he was in better shape than anyone else who’d stayed topside, but the prospect of a dry coat filled him with glee. Boots squelching on the stairs, Dellen descended and stopped behind Mr. Westlake.

“Captain told me to check on you two. Through the worst of it now, you can come topside.”

Mr. Westlake scurried from the door, likely headed to the crew quarters to find his own dry clothes.

Dellen walked into the room he shared with Eliza and Finnegan, both of whom looked at him curiously.

“Was it bad up there?” Eliza asked, eyeing Dellen’s soaked form from head to toe.

Dellen was caught off guard, they’d crashed, he’d been crushed, a bolt of lighting had reset the loop… But this time, they’d just coasted through bad weather. “It was wet and bumpy,” he said at last.

“Next time, maybe you’ll do the sensible thing and stay below.”

Gilgamesh punctuated her comment with slightly mean-spirited laughter.

“I’d have liked to stay on the deck, too,” Finnegan said.

“I don’t recommend it. I had to use magnetism a few times to stay aboard. Maybe after we find a way to get you forged.” Dellen pointed at his soaking clothes, “Perhaps you’d enjoy taking in the view above while I find something dry, Ms. Montgomery?”

Eliza laughed, already walking out the door. Finnegan followed a minute later.

Dellen stripped off his wet jacket and hung it up to dry. “Do you think we’re through the worst of it?”

“Hard to say, though I think those missing ships got crushed. People will panic if anyone saw the serpents and survived.”

Dellen pulled off his shirt and patted himself dry before shrugging into fresh clothes.

“Are there… other… creatures like that out here? Outside of Copperopolis?”

“Things like that didn’t come to The Refinery.”

“That’s not a resounding denial,” Dellen noted as he buttoned his shirt.

“I think there are many things like that out in the world.”

“How do people manage them?”

“My best advice would be to advance beyond Sixth or Seventh Trinity.”

Dellen paused as he shrugged into his jacket, “How common is that? How common are people who were more metal than flesh, like I was?”

“As a percentage of the population? Rare.”

Dellen nodded and finished dressing, “I’d better learn how to do that then.” He was certain that knowledge of how to advance would be more common once they reached a real city. He climbed the stairs and returned to the deck. Finnegan and Eliza were counting ships with frowns on their faces, and Mr. Stevens was at the helm. Once again, they’d climbed into the clouds. The sky was grey shot through with blue, though large clouds were everywhere.

“Northcote,” came Aurora’s voice from behind him. She’d found time to dry off as well, “Next time I tell you to go below, I expect you to go below.”

“Yes, captain,” Dellen said, with little intention of doing so.

A thunderous boom shattered the quiet.