Skyjackers: Episode 1: A Proper Nuisance (Skyjackers: Season One) by J.C. Staudt Read Free Book Online Page B

high above, Benedict Caine surveyed
the sprawling compound of the Marquis of Bixbury; an expansive manor house,
manicured gardens, and a large stable bordered on one side by a series of
fenced-in fields. When he raised his spyglass toward the Hummingbird ,
Poleax Longworth was sashaying across the deck in thick leather gloves,
chest-high rubber waders, and a clothespin, which was clamped over the bridge
of his nose. “That rapscallion is up to something,” Benedict muttered. “ Make
it up to me , my foot.”
    Junior’s Stratustarian touched down inside the
well-trodden pasture beside the stables. The structure was dark, but Caine knew
better than to expect a flawless execution on Junior’s part. His men rappelled
to the ground and began to creep toward the building, where a dozen prized
stallions lay at rest… or whatever horses did when they weren’t running around.
    As Junior’s men crossed the pasture, Poleax’s ship came down
on the opposite side of the building, whose doors opened onto the unfenced
portion of the grounds.
    Benedict slapped his forehead. “Blimey codwagger. Parsons,
get me Poleax on the line.”
    It was too late. Junior’s crew, perhaps thinking Poleax knew
something they didn’t, flooded through the stable and opened its front doors. A
stampede of confused, testosterone-flooded stallions burst onto the open
plains. Poleax’s crew, still getting into position, scrambled after them.
Without bit or bridle, however, the horses proved tricky to catch.
    “Use ropes from the ship, you dolts,” Benedict said to
himself. “Make lasses, or whatever you call them.”
    They didn’t. When Parsons brought the radioman above,
trailing wire behind him, Caine held out his hand. He kept his eyes locked on
the chaos below until he felt the bell-shaped receiver on his palm, then lifted
it to his lips. “Poleax? What in heaven’s name are you and those blundering
buffoons doing down there?”
    “We’re trying to catch them, Ben.”
    “Well you’re making a bloody fiasco of it, aren’t you? Those
fences on the other side of the stables are there for a reason.”
    “What’s that?”
    “The fences. They’re there to keep the horses contained, you
numbskull. Not to mention all the tack and harness probably hanging in the
stables. You’ve plenty of rope aboard the Hummingbird , haven’t you?”
    “Of course.”
    “Then I suggest you start using it.”
    “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” The line went dead.
    Across the yard at the manor house, a light went on in one of
the windows.
    “Crumbs and crumpets,” Benedict cursed. “That’s the end of
that.” He nearly called the whole thing off right then, but decided to let
Poleax’s crew work a little longer.
    Poleax organized several two-man teams, one man holding each
end of a long strand of rope. He then sent them toward the horses from
different directions, hoping to corral them. The horses seemed unable to see
the ropes, much less be contained by them. The animals ran through them like
racers at a finish line, dragging their bearers behind them.
    More lights came on inside the Marquis’s manor. A side door
opened and half a dozen men spilled out into the night, pulling on their
trousers and hefting rifled muskets. That was when Benedict decided it was time
to go. He held out a hand. No one put anything into it.
    He looked over to find the radioman disappearing belowdecks,
taking up armfuls of wire as he went. “Come back here, uh… Parsons, what’s that
man’s name?”
    “Stedman, sir.”
    “Stedman,” he shouted. “Get back here with that radio.”
    Stedman returned and handed Benedict the receiver.
    Benedict began shouting into it. “Poleax, you blithering
twit. Tie a slipknot in the rope and fling it round the horses’ necks. That’s
the way to… lasser… a horse. Poleax? Hello?”
    “Haven’t called anyone yet, sir,” said Stedman. “It’s the Hummingbird you want?”
    “Confound it. Yes of course it’s the Hummingbird