Airborn Read Online Free PDF Page B

an awful lot to learn. I strolled down to B-Deck and stopped off at the bakery to load up a tray. With the tray balanced in one hand, I hurried down the gangway to the keel catwalk and walked briskly toward the bow. There was a square hatchway in the floor with a ladder that led down into the control car. I took the rungs one-handed and didn’t spill a single drop of coffee.
    The ladder brought me down into the radio room, at the rear of the control car. Its walls were covered with all manner of machinery, transmitters and receivers, lighted gauges and dials. I placed a mug of steaming coffee beside the wireless officer, Luc Bayard, who was pressing his earpiece against his head and scowling and scribbling a message onto his pad.
    “Clarify please, Nimbus 638. You are requesting a landing?”
    I put an almond croissant down beside the coffee, taking my time. Bayard glanced up at me and shook his head, making a loony roll of his eyes.
    “For what purpose, Nimbus 638?” He scrawled a message onto his pad, but before I could read it he stood up, speaking into his headset before pulling it off. “Stand by please, Nimbus 638.”
    “Excuse me, Matt,” he said, walking forward through a doorway into the navigation room. It was small, with a chart cabinet against one wall and a broad table against the other, where all manner of maps and instruments were spread out. Mr. Torbay was taking a reading from one of the compasses, and Mr. Grantham was leaning over the table, marking lines and notations as he updated our position on the chart of our new journey. I quickly put down rolls and mugs of coffee and hurried after Mr. Bayard as he made his way forward to the bridge. I didn’t want to miss anything. A landing, Mr. Bayard had said. I could only assume he was talking with the pesky ornithopter buzzing around us.
    Through the final hatchway and I was suddenly on the bridge. It took up the entire front half of the control car, a huge glass cage with two-story windows giving a panoramic view of sky, land, and sea. I’d been here many times before, and it never failed to make my skin tingle. There was the rudder man at his wheel, and the elevator man at his. There was the gas control board and the ballast board and the engine room telegraph—I knew all the instruments and what they did, and imagined I could use them if given the chance. The bridge was a crowded place, and I stood well back, not wanting to get in the way. I started putting coffee down for the helmsmen and watch officers, taking my time and listening.
    “What’s the news, Mr. Bayard?” Captain Walken asked, turning to the wireless officer.
    “He’s requested a landing, sir.”
    “What on earth for?” the captain demanded.
    “He says he’s got one of our passengers. Two actually. A young lady and her chaperone. They missed the boarding.”
    “Who?” The captain looked at the note Mr. Bayard handed him.
    I watched the captain, wondering what he would say next. I’d never heard of such a request. If a passenger missed the ship, he was out of luck, simple as that. He had to wait for another vessel. But the captain just sniffed and gave a smile.
    “Well, they must want passage badly enough, eh?” he said. His cheerfulness surprised me, since the landing would put us at least half an hour behind schedule. The captain was a punctual man and prided himself on his timely arrivals and departures.
    “Prepare to head up, Mr. Wexler. We’ll keep our present altitude, thank you, Mr. Kahlo. Mr. Bayard, please tell the pilot he can make his approach when we’ve put our head to the wind. Then wire the harbor master and tell them we’ll be altering course to allow an aerial docking. The breeze is light; if he’s a pilot worth his salt, he should be able to make a landing first try.”
    The captain caught sight of me and winked. “We’ve taken more difficult things on board, haven’t we, Mr. Cruse?”
    “Yes, sir,” I said with a grin.
    “Thank you for the