In a world of steamships and Progress, no one who sails due south across the Wild Sea ever returns.
No one knows why.
Dale Mortensen intends to solve the mystery. With the help of an old sailor and a reformed playboy searching for his missing sweetheart, he locates a captain and crew ambitious—not to mention crazy—enough to undertake the journey across the Wild Sea.
The Infinity and her crew sail south, but the truth of what really lies on the other side of the horizon is more amazing—and terrifying—than anything they can imagine.
It’s the adventure of a lifetime—and it may just get Dale and his friends killed.
Find out how this Young Adult steampunk adventure unfolds chapter-by-chapter every Thursday! Click here to start from the beginning. Or if you want to read it at your own pace, buy the ebook for $6.99 from Amazon, Apple, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Smashwords or Sony, or get it as a trade paperback from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or Book Depository.
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HORIZON
E. R. PASKEY
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
THE NIGHT BEFORE THEIR NEXT FIVE-DAY furlough was to commence, Belly caught Dale in the corridor outside the dining hall. His expression was somber. “We need to talk, lad.”
“About what?”
Glancing left and right along the corridor, Belly shook his head. “Not here.”
Thanks to the Platform’s round-the-clock operation, private places to hold private conversations were few and far between. Belly, however, had made a thorough exploration of the Platform to find those places. He threaded his way through the maze of corridors and levels until they came to an empty corridor that was a through-way for the drilling section. He then stopped to face Dale.
“I’ve been lookin’ into Peabody.”
Not this again. Dale stifled a snort. “I know, Belly. Raphael told me the two of you are in it together.”
“Aye.” Belly’s blue eyes sharpened behind his beard. “All young Mr. Avarez would say to me about that conversation is that you’ve stuck yer head up yer arse.”
Dale ground his teeth together out of sheer frustration. “The dirigible—”
“Wake up, lad,” said Belly sharply, cutting him off. “Somethin’ bad is goin’ on here, right under our noses, an’ all you can think about is how it’ll impact the future of sailin’.”
“It’s important, Belly.”
“And what of people’s lives?”
“I hardly think—”
“You’re hardly thinkin’, that’s for sure,” grumbled Belly. “Can’t figure if you’re just bein’ stubborn or that girl is usin’ up all yer brains.”
“What?” Dale blinked, momentarily taken aback, but he was not to be thus derailed. “What does it matter if that—thing is nowhere to be found?”
“If ya believe that nothin’ out of the ordinary is happenin’ here,” said Belly after a pause, “then you’re a fool, Dale Mortensen. An’ I never figured ya for a fool.”
Anger—and a fair dose of shock—flooded Dale. Drawing himself up to his full height, he glared down at his old friend. “Look here, Belly, I—”
“Save it, lad.” Belly held up a hand to stop him. “Can’t make ya change yer mind.” He turned to leave, his prosthetic leg making an odd thump against the deck. “When you get yer head out of yer arse, ya know where to find me.”
Long after the old sailor left, Dale remained standing in the corridor, a muscle in his jaw working and his hands curling and uncurling into fists. Belly’s assessment of him rankled deeply, hurting him in places he had not known he could be hurt since his parents died. They don’t have any proof that contraption made it to Rift City in the first place.
After a while, Dale roused himself and made his way back to his cabin. Belly will come around eventually, he assured himself. He and Raphael are just going a little a stir-crazy right now without the sea. He could sympathize with that.
~oOo~
THE next evening found Dale back at the University. As had become his custom, he was among the first arrivals. Nodding to various members of the class as he entered, he settled in his usual spot to wait for Naya. He did not have long.
Less than five minutes later, Naya swept into the room with her usual quick stride and rustling skirts. She walked so quickly everywhere she went that Dale sometimes wondered how she managed to keep herself from tripping over her skirts.
Her dark face lit with a bright smile as she greeted him. Dale noticed she had left her customary colorful hair bandanna off tonight and had instead twisted her curly black hair into a proper knot on the top of her head. It was pretty, but he thought the untamed mass of curls held at bay by a band of cloth suited her better.
“Hello, Mr. Mortensen.”
“Evening, Miss Naya.” His eyes swept over her, noting a flush in her cheeks and an energy that seemed to be simmering just beneath her skin. “Are you well?”
“What?” Naya blinked at him, puzzled. Then her expression cleared and she waved a work-roughed hand. “Oh, no. I’m fine.” Glancing around, she dropped her voice to just above a whisper. “I have something to show you.”
Curious, Dale leaned a little closer to her—not that he needed much excuse—and watched as she withdrew both her language textbook and a pamphlet. Opening her book to their current lesson, she laid the pamphlet on top of it. She doesn’t want anyone else to see this, he realized.
Naya glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Have you seen one of these before?”
“What is it?”
One corner of her mouth twitched upward in a hint of a smile. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’.” She tapped the pamphlet with one slim, dark finger. “They started turning up all over Rift City a few days ago.”
Well and truly intrigued now, Dale angled the book so he could see the pamphlet more easily and scanned the cover. His eyes widened in shock; he hastened to read the pages inside.
“I thought you might be interested in that,” said Naya, in satisfaction. She propped her elbows on the desk and rested her chin in her hands, watching him.
“What is this?” asked Dale after a moment, more to himself than to Naya.
She answered anyway, still in that low, quiet voice. “I’ve heard the Revolution is printing them. You’re heard of them, haven’t you? They want to go back to your world through the Rift.” She tapped the pamphlet again. “According to them, this man, Peabody, came through the Rift with this…flying machine a few weeks before you arrived.”
“He might have,” said Dale numbly, staring at the pamphlet. “How are they printing this?”
Beside him, however, Naya paled. “It’s true?” Her dark eyes grew impossibly wide.
“That—thing—exists,” said Dale curtly. “I’ve seen it. Now, how are they printing these?” He frowned at the pamphlets. “Surely they aren’t being allowed to use the Families’ presses.”
“No,” said Naya faintly. “Rumor has it they’ve built their own printing press.”
Dale had a brief vision of scads and scads of books being printed—of the Revolution allowing their press to be used to print everything the Families would not—but it was cut short by Professor Hodges’s arrival and the start of class.
~oOo~
HIS conversation with Naya, however, was far from finished. As soon as class ended, she tugged on his sleeve—an unusually bold move for her—and fixed dark eyes on his face. “It’s true? The Families are holding this man and his machine hostage?”
Startled, Dale stared at her. One large hand came up to rub the back of his neck. “Now, Miss Naya, I don’t know about that. He’s real, but I don’t know that he’s still alive.”
“What do you know about him?” she pressed. “What do you know about this dirigible?”
“Not much.” Dale’s mouth twisted. “I want nothing to do with that thing.”
“But—”
“My friend Raphael is the one who cares about flying machines. Not me.” Dale slammed his book shut. “That thing will never be as good as a steamer.”
“But we can’t sail here,” Naya pointed out.
Dale scowled. “Can’t fly either, what with all the storms.”
Wisely, Naya let the matter drop. Standing, she tucked her own books and papers into her satchel. “It’d probably be best if you didn’t mention this to anyone, Mr. Mortensen. No one is supposed to have these pamphlets.”
Dale nodded; that suited him just fine. “Good night, Miss Naya.” Peabody and his stupid dirigible had thrown cold water on his evening.
It did not occur to him until later to wonder what had spurred the hitherto only fabled Revolution to start printing pamphlets about a man most of Rift City did not even know existed.
~oOo~
THE next evening, Dale was enjoying dinner with the rest of his fellow boarders at Mrs. Yunker’s when Reese asked, “Don’t suppose any of you have seen those pamphlets cropping up all over the city?”
One of the older men snorted grumpily. “Waste of paper and ink, if you ask me. A flying ship? Like any man in his right mind is going to believe that.”
Dale’s mouth tightened. I’ve seen it and I wish it was a figment of someone’s overeager imagination.
“You’re forgetting we have a New Arrival in our midst.” Reese, his disposition as surly as ever, turned mocking eyes on Dale. “What about it, Mortensen? Is this contraption real?”
All eyes at the table turned to him. Dale shrugged uncomfortably. “Peabody got it off the ground, if that’s what you mean.” Too late, he realized he should kept his mouth shut.
Amazed silence greeted his words; no one had expected it to be true.
“You’ve seen this thing?” demanded Withers, incredulous.
Dale shrugged. “It’ll never replace steamships. Not reliable enough.”
“But still—” Withers shook his head. “To have flown across the Wild Sea…”
“Damn foolish, if you ask me.” Reese leaned back in his chair to regard Dale through half-slit eyes.
“No one asked you, Reese,” chimed several voices together.
Withers turned to Dale, a strange, wary look in his eyes. “So the story in the pamphlets is true. Somebody—” he seemed reluctant to say ‘Families’, “—has locked this Captain Peabody up?”
“How am I supposed to know?” A trace of irritation colored Dale’s words. “I never thought he survived coming through the Rift in the first place.” He dropped his fork to the table with a thud and pushed back his chair. “Besides, flying machines will never be better than steamers. Ever.”
He missed the considering looks sent after him as he exited the dining room.
~oOo~
“I’M sorry.”
At the sound of that small voice, Dale looked up from his language book with a start. Naya stood in the classroom aisle beside him, looking uncertain, and twisting her hands together in front of her. “I—I beg your pardon?” He almost tripped over his words, and cursed himself for the way his traitorous heart began to beat triple time.
Naya bit her lip, and then her long, dark lashes fluttered as she forced herself to look him in the eye. “I didn’t mean to upset you by showing you those…papers.” She dropped her voice on the last word.
Dale swallowed as guilt welled up in his chest and threatened to choke him. “It’s not your fault, Miss Naya.” It was his turn to look down. “I overreacted. So please, forgive me.”
When he looked up again, Naya was smiling. Her expression was bright and happy; her brown eyes sparkled. He knew all was forgiven. He pulled the chair next to him out from the desk for her and she settled into it with a little rustle of skirts.
The lesson went well, though afterward Dale realized he only recalled half of what Hodges had told them. Despite his best efforts, his attention had frequently wandered to Naya. His only consolation was the fact that she seemed to have been equally distracted. After class ended, he walked her home, and bid her and her grandmother goodbye for the duration of his Platform stint.
~oOo~
THE day after he returned to the Platform, Elias Reffet pulled him aside right before the start of his shift. “Mortensen.”
“Yes, sir?” Dale looked down at the smaller man, more curious than alarmed. He could think of nothing he had done that would warrant him getting in trouble.
“Old man Belly Skoog is a friend of yours, ain’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Any idea where he is? He has yet to clock in. It’s been days.” Reffet looked annoyed.
“He hasn’t come back?” This was news to Dale, though given the current state of affairs between him and his friends, he supposed it was not too surprising.
Reffet scowled. “Right. You’ve no idea where he is.” He turned to leave, but Dale caught his sleeve.
“You might ask Raphael Avarez.”
“I’ll do that.”
The foreman disappeared around the bend and Dale hastened to his station. He kept an eye out for Belly, however. Just in case. And, despite the fact that he had refused to listen to either Belly or Raphael, deep unease began to gnaw at the pit of his stomach.
Belly can’t actually be missing, can he? Maybe he’s just drunk off his arse somewhere and lost track of time.
Dale’s mind latched onto that thought like a lifeline. That’s it, he thought, watching crystalline glitter-oil drip down his pipe. Belly’s just recovering from a rough weekend. He’ll be back before long.
~oOo~
ANOTHER day passed, and then two, with no sign of Belly. Anxious, Dale swallowed his pride and went looking for Raphael. He found his friend in his cabin, feverishly scribbling a letter in Selendrian. His cabin mates were elsewhere.
“Where is he?” demanded Dale, before Raphael could say anything. “Why hasn’t Belly come back yet?”
Raphael bristled, his dark eyes narrowing, but his anger drained away as quickly as it had come. He slumped forward to rest his head in his hands. “I wish I knew.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“The fourth day of leave last week. We—” Raphael caught himself and brushed whatever else he had meant to say away with a flick of his fingers. “That does not signify. The point is, we parted company that day and I have not seen him since.”
They had been up to no good; of that Dale was certain. “Anybody else who might know?”
Raphael shrugged one shoulder. “Possibly. I will not know for certain until we return to the city.”
Beneath his friend’s calm exterior, Dale glimpsed an undercurrent of stark fear. The unease in the pit of his stomach twisted, mixing with anger…and guilt. “You think he’s Disappeared?”
Raphael’s eyes snapped to Dale’s face in surprise, before he schooled his features into a blank mask that disturbed Dale even more. Raphael was not one to hide his feelings. “We have no way of knowing that yet.”
Dale snorted derisively. “But you’re thinking it anyway, aren’t you, Raph?”
This, apparently, was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. Raphael leapt to his feet, upending his chair in the process. “If it is true, Dale, it proves we are on to something!” He slashed a hand through the air. “It means someone in power is lying to Rift City! It means Peabody is alive!”
“It doesn’t prove anything of the sort,” said Dale stubbornly. Belly’s words about being a fool came to mind; he resolutely shoved them into the background.
The fury slowly faded from Raphael’s body, leaving a weary resignation in its wake that astonished Dale further. “For Belly’s sake, I hope you are right, my friend.” He bent to pick up his chair. “If you will excuse me now…?”
Taking the dismissal for what it was, Dale stalked away. He was too restless to settle in his own quarters; instead he paced the Platform for the better part of an hour. At the end, he found himself up top, leaning against the glitterglass and watching lightning flicker amid a howling storm. He found no peace there either.
Closing his eyes, Dale rested his forehead against the cool glass and listened to raindrops thud against it. Belly, where are you?
Find out how this Young Adult steampunk adventure unfolds chapter-by-chapter every Thursday! Or if you want to keep reading right now, buy the ebook for $6.99 from Amazon, Apple, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Smashwords or Sony, or get it as a trade paperback from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or Book Depository.
Copyright © 2013 E. R. Paskey