Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

know. Hold on.”
    Carrying her against his chest, David climbed up the fallen side of the tunnel—away from the clearing—and quickly moved behind the standing wall, where he crouched out of sight.
    “We’ll stay on this side and head around to the laboratory to find your sister,” he said softly. “We can use the roofs as cover.”
    Not all of the roofs, she saw. Someone had driven a troll into the bathing room, where it had crashed through the ice blocks and tipped over into the dugout floor. Another troll lay on its side in the middle of the clearing, engine huffing and nose steaming. Bodies littered the snow, blood crimson against the white. Where were all of the laborers? She could still hear gunshots, shouts, but there was no one alive in the clearing.
    A body dropped out of the sky and onto the bath chamber, smashing against the troll’s flank with a dull clang.
    Slapping her hands over her mouth to stifle a shriek, she lookedup. The airship. The rebelling laborers had taken the airship. She flinched as another body fell—an aviator. David’s arms tightened around her. Then more bodies, and she buried her face in David’s neck as the crew slowly rained down, some of them already dead, some of them screaming until they hit the ground.
    Someone above unhooked the ferry cruiser’s tether; the cable slithered to the snow. The airship flew slowly south, the propellers turning lazily and steam billowing from the tail, as if they hadn’t known to close the vents. The night quieted, except for the huffing of the fallen troll.
    Only two of the big machines had been wrecked. “Do you see the third troll? We need it now that the airship is gone.”
    David shook his head, rose from his crouch. His gaze swept the clearing, the surrounding buildings. “They didn’t leave any weapons, either.”
    “Källa should have something.” Her gaze lit on the two-seater balloons. One had deflated—a stray bullet, perhaps—leaving an engine-powered balloon, and the pedal balloon. “Are we going to stay here tonight?”
    “I hope to God we don’t.”
    She agreed. They could be in Vik by midnight. “We need to fire up that balloon so it’ll be hot enough by the time we’re ready to go.”
    Her heart pounded as they crossed the clearing, and she listened for any sound over the huff ing of the troll. Nothing. No one shouted or shot. Either everyone was gone or dead, or there were others hiding, too. She started the balloon’s burner, and they crossed the clearing again, down the steel steps. The hearth chamber was dark, cold. Annika could only see faint shadows, but David moved without hesitation to the far snow tunnel, pausing to look in each chamber they passed. He entered the tunnel leading to the laboratory, abruptly stopped.
    “It’s us, Källa,” he said into the darkness. “The others have fled.”
    A lamp flared, revealing Annika’s sister. She lowered her sword,dragged a pair of goggles down around her neck, the lenses reflecting an eerie green. “Where are your boots, Annika?”
    “The bathing chamber. But it’s destroyed.”
    “We don’t have extra.” She sighed, shook her head. “We’ll figure out something. Come back to the laboratory. Have you seen Lorenzo?”
    “We assumed he’d be with you,” David said.
    “No. He left a few hours ago with the troll to retrieve the foreman’s body. But I haven’t seen him since…and he took the suit. I can barely get a word out of Paolo.”
    They followed her into the laboratory. Olaf lay sleeping on one of the tables, bundled in a swaddle of furs. Beside him, Paolo worked over a sheet of calculations—weeping, Annika realized. The man’s eyes were red, his cheeks wet. His tears had smeared the ink.
    David sat Annika next to Olaf, took the stool beside Paolo’s. Gently, he rested his hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Paolo? Are you well?”
    “Of course I’m well!” Paolo snapped the response. “Why wouldn’t I be well? It is the boy who is gone.”
    Taken aback by the sudden change, Annika looked to Källa. She shook her head, lifted her hands.
    “The boy?” David tried again. “Olaf is here.”
    “Not him. The other. Lorenzo.” The anger suddenly dropped away, leaving his face lined, his eyes confused and tired. “He took the suit.”
    “Why?”
    “He’s going to go. Going to go.” He tossed his arms up in the air, then buried his face in his hands. “The calculations weren’t done. The trajectory is