Junior Mapmaker Daisy Gunne

Bly says that today is our last flyover. I am so, so glad! I can see the coastline when I close my eyes. If I have to look at the ice for much longer I swear I will scream.

Captain Springett says that my maps have been pretty good. I’m pretty glad about that, too.

But what will I do when we go back to Londinium? If we talk to any other members of the Guild, they will know right away that I’m a fraud. I guess I could run away as soon as we land. What would Bly and the captain think of that, though?

I like most of the people here. I wouldn’t mind going on another trip with them. But I wish that I didn’t have to hide all the time. I have to pretend that I’m a prodigy. It’s exhausting.

During the last flyover, my arm was jostled by a sudden motion of the ship. My last map was ruined. “What was that?” Bly asked.

“I don’t know,” I replied.

Captain Springett entered the room. “Something’s wrong with the propeller again. Barry is going to take a look at it. Good thing we were done with this flyover. Let’s get started in the tracing room.”

We moved to the other room and everything was fine. I felt relieved that the captain was here to take charge. She seemed to have more of a spring in her step today. Maybe she was happy to be nearly done with this mapmaking trip.

Bly and I started with our charcoals and everything was fine until Sydney burst into the room. He held a large knife in his hand and pointed it at the captain. I stood up from my chair and saw Bly’s knuckles whiten around his charcoal.

“Sydney? What are you doing?” Captain Springett asked.

“Were you curious about that lurch earlier?”

“Well, yes.”

“Your propeller seems to have been sabotaged,” Sydney smirked. “And so has your altimeter. Take a look out the window.”

The captain looked. I didn’t need to see, I could feel the airship’s descent in my ears.

“What do you want?” she sneered.

“Glad to know you’re not as stupid as you look,” Sydney said. “To be perfectly clear, I want you to resign.”

“That’s it?” The captain seemed surprised. She relaxed her posture. “You want to be the captain?”

Sydney lifted the knife to point at her head. “I thought it would take more convincing.”

Captain Springett frowned. “Sydney, we’ve known each other for years. You must know that I grumble constantly about my retirement. I can’t imagine what you have been doing to not hear it.” She started taking off her epauletted jacket and hat and held out the items. “I can be the navigator, if you want.”

“I don’t believe you,” Sydney didn’t move to take the clothes.

“Sydney, look. I have been the captain of this ship for 30 years. As long as you’ve been alive. I am tired. The queen asked us to take this last trip, and I had no say in it. I honestly don’t care what you do as long as I get to Londinium in one piece. So would you like me to be the navigator or not?”

Sydney looked around the room as if for the first time. Then he noticed Bly and I, statuesque at the table. “What are you doing here?” he snarled, shifting to point the knife at us.

“Finishing up the map,” Bly replied blandly. “I thought you would know, as a real captain would.”

“That’s it. Adelaide, Bly, come with me.”

“Who’s going to make us? There’s two of us, and only one of you.”

“Sorry Sydney, Hallie took a little longer than I’d expected,” Charlotte said, stepping into the room. “How’s it going in here?”

“Let’s bring Bly and Adelaide to their new quarters,” Sydney told her.

“Come on, guys. Let’s go,” Charlotte started to say. “Wait, what about Daisy here?”

“She’s not important,” Sydney replied. “She can stay and finalize the map. That’s the whole reason we’re out here, anyway.”

Bly stood reluctantly and stepped around the table, glancing at the former Captain Springett. Adelaide dropped her coat and hat on the floor, then followed Charlotte out of the room. Bly left, Sydney taking the rear after snatching the captain’s uniform. He found her keychain and locked the door behind him, leaving me alone in the mapmaking room.

I sat down quickly, my head in my hands. Who’d known that Sydney could be so ungrateful? And impatient - surely Captain Springett would have recommended him to take her place after our return. Why here, over Antarctica? Why now, just as we finished our last flyover? What was his plan?

Junior Engineer Cale Pickford

I jumped at the opportunity to support Sydney. He said he wants to fly this thing to Ruslan and start a new life. Ruslan? Sure! There’s no way Toby can track me there.

I still can’t believe what I did to him. Every spare thought I have is about the situation. Anyone would do the same in my shoes, I say to myself. But would they?

I’ve never told anyone about the reason why I left Londinium. I can barely bring myself to even think about it beyond mumbled apologies to Toby. Apologies that only I can hear.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

Before I boarded Quaerere, I thought about sending him one last messenger bird. But I didn’t, though now I think I should have. Though he hates me, maybe he would have appreciated one last apology. Or, I don’t know, maybe he would try to stab me, just like the last time I apologized. That was certainly a scene.

Anyways, let’s get back on track. In Ruslan, I could blend in and disappear. Live the rest of my days without encountering a murderous friend. All I have to do is help Sydney get this ship there.

Today, Sydney told me to capture Barry, who likely would support the former Captain Springett. So I acted normal all morning, then right before lunch, I asked Barry to come help me in the engine room.

Junior Engineer Hallie Kingston

I spent all morning laying on the floor of the galley, desperately reaching through the cabinet into the pipeworks beneath the sink. Kiona started a chicken broth, so at least the room smelled okay. After finally finding the leak, soaking myself in the process, I patched the pipe and reminded Kiona to try to be efficient when using the sink.

There was a quick descent towards the end of the morning, but I figured the mapmakers just wanted a closer look at the coastline. The ship levelled out soon enough anyway.

Then I returned to the mechanical room to return my tools. The mechanical room is kind of like the entryway to the engine room. There’s cabinets on both sides, with doors at both ends. The door to the engine room has a round window in it. I can feel the vibration of the engine here, it must be uncalibrated again. Just another thing on the list.

Through the circular window, I eyed the list on the engine room wall. It’d remained the same since the first day I stepped on this rundown ship. Movement in the room caught my eye. There was Barry and Cale. They seemed to be chatting amicably, and neither of them noticed me. I saw Barry’s eyes widen, and he looked panicked. Cale raised his arm - wrench in hand - and hit the side of Barry’s head with it! I gasped, and started to open the door, but my survival instinct stopped me. If I went in, Cale would surely beat me up too.

I watched as Cale dragged Barry’s prone body through the engine room, toward this very door. Realizing that I would be caught, I rushed out of the mechanical room and into the hallway. The door opened. “Hallie?” Cale asked. “Was that you?”

I pretended like I was on my way to the mechanical room. “Oh, hi. What’s up?”

“Just, um, taking care of a few things.”

Oh, so he’s trying to be casual. I tried to match his tone, tried to pretend like I hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary today.

“Has Sydney talked to you at all recently?”

“No, he hasn’t.”

“Hm, that’s surprising. I thought he would have. Well, turns out he’s the captain now.”

“Oh, interesting! Why did Springett promote him now, in the middle of our voyage?”

“No, it’s a little more… more unexpected than that. Sydney forced Springett to step down.”

I shrugged. “I never liked Springett anyway. What does Sydney plan on doing? I think today was the last flyover for mapmaking.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll get us home safe and sound. Now will you help me with Barry here? Too bad that he fell and hit his head when I told him about Sydney. He’s got to go to the brig regardless.”

“Sure.” We each grabbed one of Barry’s ankles and dragged him down the hall.

“You know, I think he’s sweet on Springett,” Cale remarked.

“You really think so?”

“Yes, did you see how sweaty his hands were before he went to see her the other day?”

“I think his hands are sweaty all the time. Using a tool after him is like putting my hand into swamp water!”

I kept up the conversation as we walked, but all the while my mind whirred a million kilometers an hour. How long could I keep up this pretense? Would Barry be alright, locked up with a head injury? Could I manage to rescue him?

Honestly, I didn’t care who captained the airship, as long as I got back to Londinium. But Springett didn’t deserve to be deposed right in the middle of her very last flight. What gall Sydney had, to arrange a coup over the Antarctic desert!

Head Cook Kiona Bream

By the love of Garland, this ship is on its way to you-know-where! I spend one morning in the galley, door closed, efficiently using the sink like Hallie said, and there’s a mutiny! Adelaide is locked up, and so is half the crew! The other half sits at the table and asks that I serve dinner as if nothing has happened. In all my decades of cooking, I never heard anything more preposterous!

But I sensed a dangerous mood among the rebels, so I kept my mouth shut and served the soup. They ate, and muttered about their plans. Obviously Sydney was in charge, but Charlotte and Cale also seemed like they knew what they were doing. Paul laughed a lot, and looked more upbeat than he had been previously. Jemmett and Hallie listened, but rarely spoke. They didn’t seem as committed as the others.

The rest of the crew, including the new mapmaker, must be locked up somewhere.

I wonder where I come in to all of this. Will they ask me to pick sides? Or do they assume my loyalty lies with Adelaide? Of course it does, but what will be the consequences?

Chief Mate Paul Yardley

This is the best professional development I’ve ever had! No promotion as of yet, but I’m inside away from the cold, and I don’t have to deal with rope anymore! Sydney says he’ll teach me how to navigate in the next few days, when he’s not so busy.

Adelaide was too busy thinking of her future to even notice poor old me, freezing on the deck all day. I’m so glad that she made Sydney the captain, but I am confused as to why she has to be locked up now. We’re at half a crew, too, because they’re in the brig too. Maybe there’s something that Sydney isn’t telling us.

Anyways, this new training is very helpful. Sydney said I can even use the technique to navigate at home. Wouldn’t it be fun to show my family?

In the meantime, until Sydney is less busy, I’ll keep overseeing Charlotte and Jemmett. The oakum picking is going well, thanks to our efforts.

What a day this has been, I think as I write in my journal. What will tomorrow bring?

Captain Sydney Cannard

So much for my six steps to success that I spoke about earlier. The method that I’ve followed thus far has been much quicker, and dare I say, easier. At least so far.

I’ve kept up the morale of my crew members. Though regrettably, I had to promise to teach that idiot Paul how to navigate. I doubt he could find his way out of a paper bag even if he had directions. Seriously, if you look into his eyes, there’s nothing there but the letters D-U-M-B.

In other news, all the rebels have been contained in the brig. It wasn’t really designed for that many people but I think they’ll manage. I’ll have Cale bring them some breakfast in the morning.

My next issue is Kiona. I know that she’s known Adelaide for many years, and she’s clearly biased. Kiona couldn’t see the former captain’s flaws, obvious as they were. That’s why I’ve decided to keep her locked in the galley. Charlotte dragged a cot in there and put all her stuff in a bag. Kiona may be a flighty old bird, but she can sure cook!

Tonight, before I go to bed, I need to set our course and get us pointed toward Moskva. Cale sure seems eager to get there.

I have my cousin waiting for me in Moskva. He recently participated in some less-than-legal activities and is getting ready to sell his illegally gained painting to an heiress, a relative of the Russian royals. I have to be there to facilitate the transfer, as my cousin’s portrait was plastered all over the news. He said he’ll give me enough money to start a new life. I’ll be able to travel anywhere in the world and reinvent myself.

This first phase of the journey has gone smoothly. We just have to get through one more week. We’ll be able to refuel in Constantinople, and I can drop off all who want to stay. Those in the brig won’t get a choice; they’ll be unceremoniously dropped in that metropolis. I’m sure they’ll be fine.