Airborn by Kenneth Oppel Read Free Book Online Page A

It was the first time I’d been aboard my father’s ship. I was six. In the control car, Captain Walken had been talking with one of the engineers, but he greeted my father warmly, and I’d felt such pride, to think my father worked with so important a man. Then the captain had looked down at me. “Will you fly one day, Mr. Cruse?” he’d asked with a smile. For a moment I could not speak. Then I forced out a single word. “Yes,” I said, more loudly and boldly than I’d intended. Captain Walken chuckled, raised an eyebrow at my father, and said, “I believe he will.”
    I was looking at the captain’s face now, searching for signs of the happy news he was to deliver. But he appeared no different than he did on the bridge. He began to speak, then broke off with a little grunt of irritation, looking out the window. It was most unlike him to falter, and instantly I knew I would not be getting good news today.
    “This is a vexing business, Mr. Cruse,” he said. “You had my promise, and nothing angers me more than being made a liar. We are indeed to have a new junior sailmaker aboard the Aurora , but it is not to be you.”
    I said nothing, but my mind was churning, trying to think of what grievous thing I’d done to anger the captain.
    “Rest easy, Matt,” he said gently. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Your service to this vessel has always been exemplary. This is not my choice. I’ve been forced to take on Otto Lunardi’s son as junior sailmaker.”
    I recognized the name, of course. Otto Lunardi was the magnate who owned the Aurora and a vast fleet of more than forty other airships.
    “I voiced my objection,” the captain said, “but Lunardi ignored it. Seems he’s decided his boy is not fit for the business of managing his empire, and so he’s been exiled aboard my ship. It was quite beyond my control. I hope you understand.”
    “Of course, sir.”
    “Nothing would give me greater pleasure than seeing you stand before me right now, bearing the sailmaker’s insignia.”
    I thought of the gold-stamped steering wheel the sailmakers wore on their collars; I had coveted that insignia for so long now. I nodded at the captain. “Thank you, sir. For all you’ve done on my behalf.”
    “I’ve done nothing you don’t deserve,” he said impatiently. “It’s all changed since I started out. Forty years ago, if you didn’t have money—and my family had none—you began as cabin boy. I did it, just like you. But then you could rise by dint of hard work and honesty and skill. Now there is the Air Ship Academy—and getting in takes not just skill but money or connections, or both. And they think they can train people in musty classrooms. To be sure, they can teach them certain things. But not character. Not hard work, and not the mettle it takes to sail a ship aloft across continents and oceans. Lunardi and the other owners like Academy training. It comes with letterhead, with fancy seals and certificates, and that makes them feel they’re getting their money’s worth! Makes them feel they can sleep easy! Fair enough, the Lunardi boy has his basic certificate from the Academy, indeed he does. But I doubt he’s ever spent an hour aboard an airship in a gale. Rest assured, Matt, there will be some remedy for this. My guess is the Lunardi boy will flee as soon as we reach Sydney Harbor.”
    “He’s on board now, sir?”
    “Yes, as a trainee.” He looked me in the eyes for a moment then sighed. “You know I am always happy to arrange a transfer for you to another vessel where they have need of a sailmaker. I would be sorry to lose you, but would recommend you with the heartiest of praise. Any vessel would be lucky to have you.”
    “Thank you, sir, but I’m happy here.”
    And I was. This ship, the Aurora , was more home to me than the little apartment in Lionsgate City. Over the past three years, I’d spent scarcely any time on land. My life was aloft now. I did not want to leave Baz or Captain