Captain Adelaide Springett
My retirement had never sounded so sweet as when we took that scoundrel aboard. Within five minutes, our new recruit had slipped belowdecks, astounded Demi with a stupid riddle, toppled my bookcase, and charred the rug with my favorite candle.
When I caught up to her, dragging my bad leg behind me, all she did was look around with wide eyes and say sweetly, “When will dinner be served?”
“As soon as you’re done cooking it,” I replied. “Report to the galley and Kiona will instruct you.” Kiona would be happy to have a pair of fresh eyes. She was nearly as old as I. “Oh, and one more thing - remind me of your name?”
“Daisy,” she replied. “Daisy Bernice Gunne, and don’t you forget it, Captain.”
“I won’t make any promises.” What a cheeky little brat!
After returning to my office, I communicated with the airport crew using my exterior Morse code indicator light.
Fuel done?
Yes
Unmoor now?
Yes Quaerere clear for takeoff
TY
I notified my deck crew, and they cast off the ropes binding us to the dock. The vast circle of Londinium above us blocked our view of the sun and cast a huge shadow on the ground far below us. The platform tapered down into a cone shape, with docks protruding from all sides. Small personal craft were moored at the very bottom, then bigger, nicer ships. Higher up were cargo ships, then huge freighters. But the very top of the cone, right underneath the platform, was reserved for the elite - nobility and the ultra rich. Those closest to the platform had quick access to the city, whereas those at the bottom of the cone were at the mercy of the elevator service.
Quaerere was docked somewhere in the middle. We had some priority because of the Guild, but otherwise we had to fend for ourselves in the jumble of traffic. I always felt grateful for Londinium’s Air Traffic Control; I often said that they had the most difficult job in the world.
This floating platform city, held aloft by the largest grav crystal in the world, housed the Mapmaker’s Guild headquarters. Last time I was there was last spring, so that the Guild could notify me of our commission straight from Her Majesty the Queen. Our destination? The farthest wasteland - Antarctica.
That meeting with the Guild’s leaders was so tedious. I mean, all Guild meetings drag on much longer than they should. Sometimes I think that committees are made just to prolong bureaucratic processes. They spent almost an hour debating if I should captain a different ship. I finally had to tell them that the Quaerere was good for one last trip. If the first journey of a ship is called the maiden voyage, what is the last trip called?
After 30 years, the airship Quaerere was old and tired, just like its captain and crew. Most of us have been here since the beginning, when we first mapped the Arctic. Ropes that were once stiff with newness now coil nicely into their places. The stairs have grooves down the middle, worn down by decades of foot traffic. My rear has permanently dented my chair in the bridge. I could navigate these halls in my sleep - and I do. When I dream, it’s the Quaerere that I’m always trapped inside. Its dingy carpet and clunky layout mocks me. Even the masts, which once stood tall above the deck, seem to slump in defeat. At least the solar sails still collect the sunlight we need to power the ship.
I’m ready to retire with all the honors of three decades of mapmaking. My crew is ready to quit, too. In fact, some of them did last spring when we heard of our new commission. We had to hire another member, and ended up with Cale Pickford, an American, as a junior engineer. He just boarded today, looking rough. He says he has mechanical experience, so we’ll see how this pans out.
As for our other new member, my notes say that Daisy is the Guild’s best and brightest, chosen specifically by the queen to accompany us. When I passed the mapmaking test with the highest possible score, Queen Nicola sent me a medal. I still wear it as part of my uniform.
After her passing last year, I wondered what would become of the Guild, as she was our biggest patron. Most of the world has been explored, the original maps safely stored in the Archive. I expected the mapmakers to slowly wither away with age: meeting for reunions every year, and fewer people every time. What else could there be?
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Apparently, the Antarctic. Sending us here was one of Queen Angeline’s first edicts.
I hated our Arctic sojourns. The cold never leaves your bones. So what will the feared Antarctic be like?
The general feelings of our journeys tend to be influenced by the crew. When the crew feels good, we sail easily through the sky. The opposite is true, too. When we are all feeling down, everything seems to take longer than it should.
Our wild cards are our new members. Cale seems fine, but Daisy has a sort of wild energy that I’m not sure about. Though I seem to remember being just like Daisy: bubbly, energetic, playful. That was many years ago, and I didn’t know what being a mapmaker really meant. Long nights tracing by candlelight, always gazing at the land while your hand follows the curves and swirls of the coastline. The obsession with making your perfect map, the hours spent practicing your insignia for a finished piece. Even the constant, mind-bending fear of pirates just over the horizon holds a sort of nostalgia for me.
After 30 years of this, I’m numb to the charms of the Guild. And I don’t even make maps anymore. I just hope that this new recruit, whatever her name, is as good as Her Majesty thinks she is.
That afternoon, I set our course for Romulus. It will take us 10 hours. There, we can refuel and stock up on fresh Mediterranean produce. Kiona enjoys the fresh lemons from that city, because she makes a good, refreshing lemonade on our long flight days. I love the bit of fizz.
Romulus is one of the oldest cities in Europe, and yet it still remains on the mainland. A more old-fashioned person might call it a grounder city. Though grounders don’t face the same kind of stigma that they used to, still some people look down on them, which is plain ridiculous. What’s so great about living on a floating platform, anyway? I think I would be constantly worried about something breaking, and the city falling to the ground.
I have a little cottage on a bluff above the sea. When I retire, that’s where you’ll find me, tending my garden. Before we left, I planted my vegetables and made sure the fruit trees would be ready for this season. I even planted flowers for the honeybees. My niece will be watching the house while I’m gone on this last journey. And when I return, I’ll live out the rest of my days there. I gave the Guild my blood, sweat, and tears for all these years and now I deserve to rest. As for Quaerere, the Guild can do what it wants. I love the ship like a trainer loves an old racehorse: nostalgic with the passage of time yet definitely ready to move on to the next best thing.
The food that Kiona and the girl cooked was fine, but I could tell by Kiona’s face that it hadn’t gone well. I pulled her aside. “What’s wrong?”
Kiona scrunched her face, chin quivering. “She wanted to change the recipe!”
I jumped, startled. “Change the recipe?!” I stomped my left foot two times, to let Garland, the god of mapmakers, know that we would never do such a thing.
“I couldn’t believe it either! What kind of guild school did she go to? Did they not teach her the importance of following the recipes? Why, Sir Julius Glass could not have made the best maps without the help of the Mapmaker’s Stew.”
“I’ll have to talk to her,” I sighed. Kiona tapped her left hand on the wall twice, and we turned to look at the table just as a cheer erupted. My crew members clapped as the girl inserted another olive into her bulging mouth. “Twenty-one!” Sidney shouted.
“Stop this nonsense!” I said loudly. The room quieted, and the girl chewed the olives, a smug look on her face. “Everyone, it’s time to eat; not play. You, follow me.”
I pointed at the girl and she came with me to my office, still loudly chewing. I pulled out a chair for her to sit down, and I stood at the window. I could see the waves of the sea, hundreds of feet below us. “It seems that we have started off on the wrong foot,” I began. “Which is partly my fault. I neglected to tell you about my job.” I pivoted and leaned against the windowsill. “My job is to make sure this ship is in the air and making good maps. And I will tell you now - we cannot make good maps if you insist on making a spectacle of yourself. You are not here to make friends. You are here because the queen insisted on it. She said you are the brightest mapmaker in the guild.”
She interrupted, her eyes shining. “She really said that about me?”
“Yes. But that’s besides the point. You are here to make good maps once we reach Antarctica. That’s it. Until then, you will help Kiona in the galley. But do not ever speak again about changing a recipe or doing anything else out of the ordinary. Garland does not approve of it. If you have any further questions, Kiona and I would be happy to set you straight. The 200-year history of the Guild is resolute and unchanging. Do you understand?”
“What’s wrong with changing the recipes? It’s just food.”
“It is not just food, and I do not understand how you made it through your apprenticeship without understanding the superstitions and rules that we Mapmakers have.”
“I didn’t have an apprenticeship.”
“What? Then how did you learn to make maps?”
She folded her arms across her chest. “I practiced.”
“Everybody practices. I don’t understand what makes you different.”
“I don’t either, but everyone seems to think I’m special.” She shrugged, a smirk on her face.
Oh my. At mapmaking schools, this sort of pride is taught out of new recruits. What did she have to do, to hide this so obvious personality trait from her instructors? And why, of all captains, must I deal with it? I expect uncharted waters in the future, in more ways than one.