Suncatcher: Seven Days in the Sky

**Problems and Precipitates**

June 1^st, 2075

Radicand Jones rubbed her hands together until the memory of heat called up her favorite firewall upgrade. The blue spark appeared in the center of her palm quickly enough, but it took several seconds to spread across her whole hand. Once it was thoroughly compiled, she pressed her glowing hand against the marble walls that loomed above her. The flame disappeared between two massive stones. After several heartbeats, the masonry began to glow at the joins. Slowly the fire crawled along the edges of each stone, making them shimmer blue-white in the darkness. Eventually the whole black wall was crisscrossed by a net of cold fire.

She frowned. That was certainly better, but Radicand still wasn’t satisfied.

Her sister’s financial records had been guarded by a standard firewall, serrated spikes and severed heads and all. It might look ferociously well-protected, but any hacker could get through it with enough RAM. Now that she was finished working her way through the files, Radicand wanted to make sure that no one else could enter without permission. The blue fire added another level of security, sure, but it was still static and unchanging.

She crouched low, considering. Radicand scratched out a brief equation in the colorless powder at her feet, calling one of her newest objects out from the mist that collected in her peripheral vision. A fractal salamander skittered up to her, leaving a trail of tiny green whirlpools hovering in the air behind it. She nodded gravely to the creature.  The salamander bowed back and then dived into the wall, sharing its shifting heart with the stone.

Once more she pressed her hand against the wall, reassuring herself that though it felt solid, it would still recognize her and let her pass. The salamander’s tongue flicked out from between the stones and licked Radicand’s wrist. She was surprised at the burning sensation, until she realized it wasn’t the code that was affecting her.

Radicand’s cuff pinched harder. Someone was trying to gently but vigorously get her attention. The salamander winked at her.

Radicand sighed and removed her goggles.

“Annie, I need to speak with you! Meet me on the bridge.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll be right there,” she managed to reply before her sister signed off. Radicand groaned and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, trying to clear away the mental fog of early morning aether-walking. At least today she would actually get to talk to Pari, and not merely observe her from the other end of the deck.

For several semesters Radicand had been fantasizing about taking a sabbatical to escape the incessant university politics. When she had received a note from her aloof sister that she and her whole flock of airships would be in town in three days’ time, Radicand had let her imagination soar—what was a hundred miles away, compared with a hundred miles above? It had seemed a simple and elegant solution as she packed her rucksack and goggles.

Things had not fallen out quite as she had hoped.

Radicand slipped on her new split toed shoes and zipped up her fleece-lined jacket. Both were from the communal stores, a generously supplied cupboard on one of the other airships. Despite being well-prepared for new crew members, the flock didn’t seem to have made provision for paid guests or weary travelers.

Radicand had attempted to earn her place, and had certainly kept busy. But no matter how hard she hauled the ropes or carefully tended the solar sails, Pari kept her distance. Even when Radicand had brazenly asked for access to her sister’s files, she had gotten only the briefest of distracted nods in answer.

Radicand’s heart thumped an extra beat. This morning was the first time since she had stepped on board three weeks ago that her sister had shown any interest in her. Didn’t Pari like the new security measures Radicand had put in place? That was the only explanation she could think of for her sister’s sudden interest in her whereabouts.

She closed the cabin door firmly, and with hardly any obvious hesitation. Between her snug quarters and the staircase was a pair of green doors on either side of the whitewashed hallway. One led to the communal shower, the other to a spare guest room that was filled up with art supplies. Her cabin was only kept clear, she had learned, as it doubled as an emergency sick room.

The staircase itself was a tight metal spiral, close and crowded, but the view from the wide deck was almost limitless.

The wind was calm; the solar sails were tilted at a shallow angle collecting as much sunlight as possible. The first time she saw them, the sails had been tucked in and their multiple spokes swept back. She would have assumed they were oars if she had time to assume anything. Once Judy floated high above Penn Station, though, Radicand had watched with interest as the spokes were cranked out and the solar sails unfurled into silky semicircles. They hugged the sides of the gondola like the fins of a tropical fish.

The high white railings that wrapped around the deck were easy to see passed. Only the fully inflated blimp above Radicand and the dozens of other colorfully painted airships that made up the flock in the middle distance blocked her view of the sky and sea.

Doe, the oldest crew member Radicand had met, promised that she would get used to the low and constant hum of the engines, “like a tribe of mechanical crickets.” She had thought at the time that was an apt description of the bouncy crew itself. Even after three weeks, the thrum was still a constant reminder that she was floating in the sky on the sufferance of devices and people she didn’t really understand.

  The ship lurched forward and she tried not to curse as her shoulder hit the corner of the control tower. Radicand knew she should be impressed that the gyroscopes so rarely faltered, but as she jerked open the door and stumbled into the navigator’s workspace, it was hard to feel appreciative. The admiral ignored her awkward entrance and frowned down at the map table. Above a rough outline of Miami’s seawalls, the holograph projector showed wispy clouds. A small blur in the furthest corner pulsed red.

“You wanted to see me?”

Pari’s monkey, Joshua, bared his teeth in silent welcome from his perch on the admiral’s well padded shoulder. This morning, he was more interested in playing with the older woman’s bright green scarf than chattering at Radicand.

The admiral glanced up. Her fierce expression wavered a moment, before she said in flat tones, “I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.”

Radicand sputtered, “What? Why? You just asked me up here! What did I do wrong?”

“Leave the ship, Annie. Pirates are coming.”

Radicand blinked. That was different. And also very strange, “How?”

“By modified airship, I think. I can’t imagine pirates would have anything like jets at their disposal.”

Radicand shook her head, “No, I mean, how am I supposed to leave? We’re several hundred feet up in the air. Aren’t we all in danger, here? Why can’t everyone leave together?”

“We’re too slow,” Pari sighed, “We can’t get to Miami before the pirates get here.”

Radicand’s eyes widened, “What do you--”

“We’ll all stick together, I hope, and fly free eventually,” Pari reassured the holographic projection, refusing to meet Radicand’s eyes, “But if the pirates are really determined they could destroy Judy’s blimp with one oil-soaked rag and a spark.”

“That’s… horrible,” Radicand whispered.

“This is our life,” said Pari quietly, as if she talked about dying in battle all the time, “We all chose to live here in the sky, to accept whatever challenges it brought us.”

“But-”

“But it’s just a vacation to you,” Pari glanced up briefly, “We have enough parasails and life rafts to spare for you. Leave while you can, go before the pirates make it impossible for me to guarantee your safety.”

“Fuck,” whispered Radicand. She stood up and turned her back on her sister; it seemed like the only way to get a quiet moment to think. She looked down at her new boots. The strange split-toes made her feet look alien and bird-like, and she could feel her heart trying to split in two, as well.

Leaving was not an option. She had dismissed the idea even before she looked at her boots. They were still her feet and she was still herself, however strange or challenging her surroundings might be. She wiggled her toes and flexed her ankles. She didn’t miss her cozy bedroom slippers. She missed her older sister.

She had been missing her for the last ten years, really.

Radicand turned back and leaned across the projection separating them. “Fuck you if you think I would leave you to die,” she snarled. “So could I. Die. Here, now, before the pirates come... of food poisoning. Or maybe choking on my own bile.”

“Annie,” Pari’s voice might have trembled, Radicand couldn’t be sure, “Be serious. I… I can’t lose anyone else…”

Radicand pursed her lips, “I submit a respectful suggestion that you pretend I’m not your little sister. Pretend I’m actually smart and useful and tell me how I can help you. Tell me what the problem is.”

Pari’s voice was still drained of emotion, but Radicand thought there might be a spark of the girl she grew up with glimmering in her eye, “The problem is you don’t take orders.”

“The problem is you’re lousy at giving them,” sniffed Radicand, “I thought that was why you loved building consensus so much. Why aren’t you asking everyone else what they think?”

“I love consensus as long as it agrees with me,” muttered Pari, “And in fact I called a meeting with the whole flock right after I paged you.”

“You didn’t mention that sooner because?”

“We were rather busy talking about other things, don’t you think?” Pari let one side of her mouth slip into a smile, “I could still force you off the ship. I’m not sure why I haven’t yet.”

“You hate a challenge?”

“And you’re still here because?”

Radicand stuck out her tongue, “It’s the masochist in me; I always choose the underdog.”

“Woof.”

Radicand grinned, “So now that you admit you’re barking mad, do you actually have any tactical plans? Or were you just going to invite the pirates over for a picnic?”

“Oh, plans aren’t a problem,” sighed Pari, “Choosing just one will be the hard part, but that’s not up to me. The problem is none of this actually makes any sense. Why would pirates be in the sunshine corridor? What could they want from us?”

 “What do we have of value?”

Pari shrugged, “On board? Not much more than the clothes on our backs and the sun in our sails.”

 “Could they be after your batteries?”

 “The batteries we use are old and cheap, not worth stealing for the hardware,” Pari frowned slightly, “Energy prices are high around here, but not high enough to risk piracy. Our solar collectors are unique. They might be worth something to somebody else, except they’re so huge. Pirates would have to capture a whole airship to move them.”

“So they want to steal a ship?”

Pari looked down, “We will have to work under that assumption.” Then her shoulders slumped and she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, “I hate assuming anything.”

Joshua chirped at Pari and gently patted her head. Radicand changed tactics, “How do you know there are pirates at all?”

Pari waved her hand at the projector, and the image expanded the red blur into three separately menacing dots, “A pleasure craft with up-market engines found them. It escaped before its sensors could collect much data, but the captain sent a message out.”

Joshua pressed a toggle. A burst of feedback startled Radicand before a frantic voice cut through, “Three pirate ships. Repeat, we have visual confirmation of three pirate ships headed south southwest in an oblique approach towards Miami. All ships within broadcasting range alter your flight paths accordingly.”

Radicand blinked. That sounded… unhelpful. “So… what now?”

Pari sighed, “Time to meet with the others. I don’t suppose you’d like to lead one of the charges? I always preferred to leave that sort of active command thing to younger, more hot-headed companions.”

 “Fuck you with an amusing cucumber,” Radicand growled.

Joshua screeched and clung onto the older woman’s shoulder as Admiral Jones threw her head back and laughed.

**Rock and Roll**

On her way to where Judy’s crew was gathering, Radicand stopped at her quarters and picked up her rifle. The sense of security it gave her might be false, but she had spent enough time in the aether to fervently believe in the power of symbols.

Pari also stopped at her cabin, directly across the hall from Radicand’s. Pari put Joshua into his cage above her desk and glanced at a few papers there before nodding to herself and tugging at her plain tunic one more time. The monkey blew the women a raspberry, but seemed otherwise content.

“Can’t have him distracting you?” asked Radicand, leaning against the room’s yellow doorframe.

“Can’t have him pooping on my shoulder,” muttered Pari, and they grinned warily at each other. Radicand noticed that Pari had left her own pistol in its holster on the wall of her quarters, as well as any other item that might signal her power and authority.

“So what’s going to happen, at this council of war?” asked Radicand. The sisters walked down the other end of the hall, passed sets of orange and red doors, to the staircase that went down to the next level.

Pari shrugged, “We’ll talk… I’ll start it since I called the meeting, but after that I’ll listen. You should, too.” Radicand started to bristle, but Pari continued, “After all, I’m basing my battle plan on your ideas. You should correct me if I get them wrong.”

Radicand gulped. “Me? What’d I say?”

            Pari smiled grimly, “That they’ll try to steal our ships.”

Radicand blinked, but she didn’t want to stop the stream of confidences now that they were finally forthcoming. Pari continued, “I’m too close, too enmeshed in the community. It’s a whole, complex system to me. They can’t steal a community—but they could steal a ship.” Even if Radicand knew how to respond, they had reached the bottom of the stairs and had a very public audience. She pressed her lips together.

The eclectic crew of the good ship Judy was all present by the main monitor in the rec room, a space that doubled as dining hall and communal living quarters in the space-conscious design of the ship. It was the only room Radicand had seen that used the full width of the gondola. High round windows along both exterior walls let in plenty of late morning light without blinding anyone.

Brian, the flock’s navigator, ran the ship’s cameras and vid screens. Radicand was glad that there was someone else on board who enjoyed the finer electronic luxuries. Pari took a seat that had been left open directly across from the monitor. Radicand looked around shyly and sat down near the entrance on the floor. Across the open doorway, Doe leaned against the wall with arms crossed across his broad chest. He wasn’t the only crew member standing, but most either sprawled on thick woven mats or perched on empty five gallon buckets that had been painted and carved and bolted into interesting shapes.

Brian nodded at the admiral when she arrived, and flipped a switch on his right armrest.

The monitor focused on a red-cheeked man with a sleeping newborn strapped snugly to his chest, “Milo, here, of The Sunflower. All crew present, except Gardener—she’s asleep.”

Radicand couldn’t figure out why there was a ripple of gentle laughter throughout the room, until Doe took pity on her and leaned his shaved head towards hers, “Gardener is his wife, and the baby is about six hours old. I’d rather face pirates unarmed than wake her up.” Doe winked at her, Radicand nodded mute thanks to him. Of course, now that he mentioned it, that name was vaguely familiar. Background gossip was as much a part of the soundscape up here as the propellers’ constant thrum.

All the captains indicated their crews were assembled and ready.

Pari calmly announced, “We have received word that there are three pirate ships in the area. We cannot outrun them.”

She let the shocked murmurs of those assembled die down before she continued, “I have consulted with Dr. Jones, and we have concluded that if the pirates attack us, they are most likely going to attempt to capture one or more of our airships. With this in mind, I believe our strength is in our numbers, and we should stay close together to offer mutual aid and support.”

“There is another possible scenario,” suggested Brian, “If they are inspired by a blood cult, they might want to just destroy us all rather than capture one or two of our ships. In that case, we would receive the least damage if we spread out.”

The admiral’s eyebrows rose, but she remained composed, “Thank you. Dr. Jones, and anyone else wired into the newsfeeds, please share any relevant information with the rest of us.”

Radicand pulled her goggles down over her eyes. Her fingers tapped on the ear pieces to guide her search. While she hadn’t fully submerged herself in the all-consuming virtual reality of the aether, she could feel the other nearby presences who were also wired in. They were friendly ghosts in the aether and didn’t trouble her. It would have been nice to work with them, of course, but she couldn’t count on them understanding the same visual metaphors she did, and speed was of the essence.

Pari cut through the quiet hum, finally, with a curt, “Dr. Jones, have you found anything that suggests a blood cult attack is likely?”

Radicand blinked once, and her search clarified into a few relevant points. She tapped one more code at her temple and raised her goggles to her forehead so she could make eye contact with her sister. “I’ve uploaded all my results to the local servers; anyone who has aether access can see my route. My professional assessment is that while there is always the possibility of a blood cult forming from a local charismatic figure, our flock is not a likely target.

“Blood cults usually either hit areas with concentrated populations or structures with symbolic significance. While the flock is large and important to us, even the destruction of every airship would not make much impact on the social or political institutions below us.”

Radicand realized she had gone into lecture mode, and blushed slightly. The crew members who weren’t watching the aether through goggles were watching her dubiously. Radicand considered what she had said. Perhaps she shouldn’t have so blithely suggested the entire flock could be destroyed? She needed to work on her bedside manner, it seemed.

Radicand kept her goggles perched firmly on her head; she didn’t want it to look like she was reading over her fellow ghosts’ shoulders as they reviewed her work.

When most of the goggles in the room were perched on heads, Brian shared the consensus, “We agree with Dr. Jones.” He seemed more relieved than upset that his theory had been dismissed, and that recommended him even more to Radicand’s attention.

Pari nodded, “We must prepare for an attack, then, whether the pirates mean to strike us or not. The question is do we do this best by staying together and fighting back or separating into many parts and fleeing? I’ve told you my thoughts. I leave it to you, ladies and gentlemen, what our collective answer will be.”

Radicand watched in rapt attention, but no lights flickered. The other crews were each having discussions in private, it seemed, though Judy’s own crew was quiet.

Radicand crooked an eyebrow at Doe, and he took the hint, “We’re the flagship. We won’t leave unless every other ship chooses to, and even then we’ll be the last to go. We made our choice when we signed on to Judy.” This news did not make Radicand regret her brash words in the navigator’s room less than an hour ago. In fact, she felt a pleasant warmth in her stomach; she, too, had made her decision and was content with it.

The Sunflower was the first to reach a decision. Milo’s face was redder than before, but his voice was steady and calm as he outlined his crew’s decision. “You all know we’re a family ship, here. I’ve got my wife, my uncle and,” he paused and gulped, “Our child. Miz Maggie and a couple teenagers from The Black Phoenix have been helping us out, and they were part of our decision. We want to stay with the flock, but realistically we can’t do much if the consensus is to fight. We request a spot in the core. In exchange, we’ll take in any wounded and bunk them here so Miz Maggie can keep an eye on them.”

Doe leaned over again, clearly enjoying his role of local guide, “Miz Maggie’s the best midwife in the whole flock, and a damn fine general nurse, so that makes good sense.”

Admiral Jones nodded and said, “Thank you, Milo.”

The second captain to report in didn’t bother to name himself or his ship. “We are prepared,” seemed oddly brief after Milo’s delivery, but the old man smiled at Pari as he said it and she, to Radicand’s astonishment, flashed a grin back before nodding and smoothly giving her attention to the next captain.

 “Captain Teasel here, greetings to all gathered,” spoke a grey-clad woman, older than Pari, Radicand judged, but too vigorous to be more than late middle aged, “We are committed to non violence. We also value the community that has been created here, and cannot in good conscience abandon this experiment before its natural conclusion. High Society shall go where Judy goes.”

Radicand leaned towards Doe, shyly admitting her ignorance yet again, “But are they saying they’ll stay in the core with The Sunflower? Or are they saying they’ll stay in the outer layer and just… get hit? Turn the other cheek or solar sail or whatever?” Doe squinted as if he could see through the walls and into the sky where the flock chose its fate ship by combustible ship.

 “Captain Teasel is an odd bird,” mused Doe, “I don’t think she values her own life more—or less—than a pirate’s. High Society will be a ship to watch, if you get a chance to see anything.”

Two ships had to bow out completely—both were small and slow, and one had gotten in the way of some migrating geese the day before. “I’m sorry, everyone,” said the captain with a wince, “We’re still pulling feathers out of our gears and would just get in the way. The Yellow Rose has offered to stick with our Sweet Sheila until we can get to a garage. I promise to stand a round of drinks in Miami.”

Doe nodded, but kept any more complicated thoughts to himself, and Radicand felt she was getting a sense of the trend of the conversation. No captain suggested what the grand scheme should be, but each listed what they could offer to the group and how they planned to prepare themselves—and the overwhelming majority of ships were preparing to fight.

Radicand was impressed with the consensus until Freebird’s captain, Max, spoke gruffly, “We should go on the bottom. We’re fast and we have six life rafts. That’s two more than Judy.”

Admiral Pari had grown more thoughtful and quiet as each captain registered. She leaned forward at this. “Freebird, thank you. Will you be willing to add our rafts to your pattern?”

Doe whistled softly. and leaned in before Radicand wrenched his shoulder to get his attention. “Freebird’s been recruiting lately; I expect it’s safest if the ship is close to the water while its new crew get their skylegs.”

“Is Max trying to take over the flock?” Radicand asked in outraged sibling paranoia. It was the only excuse she could see for increasing the ranks of an airship with limited capacity and serious weight restrictions.

Doe frowned, then shook his head, “No, I don’t think so. Sometimes we talk strategy for different situations we might find ourselves in. Judy’s usually expected to take the bottom position, because we’ve had the most rafts and Brian to run them. But if those lugs choose to be the flock’s catchers, we can take the top position.”

“And that’s good?”

“That’s… interesting. With Brian free from life raft duty, he might be able to try… well, we’ll see. Depends what the other captains are up for, in the end.”

Max graciously agreed to control Judy’s life rafts, and Pari turned to the next captain. Finally, Brian reported, “All captains and crews have registered plans with me.”

Pari smiled, “Thank you, everyone, for what you have agreed to contribute. Brian, do we have enough support for Judy to take 12 o’clock?”

Brian smiled, “Yes, we do. As long as everyone maintains radio silence like we’ve planned it before. Gentles, we can do this!”

The other ghosts seemed fine with losing their connection for an unspecified amount of time, though Radicand was unsure what good the sacrifice would do. She glanced at Doe.

The man was nodding contentedly and explained, “Without broadcasting our existence, there’s a small chance Judy can surprise one of the ships into giving us an advantage. We’ll also have the best view no matter what. Of course, we’ll also have the furthest to fall if something goes wrong,” He shrugged, “Sounds about right.”

Radicand tilted her head, enjoying this unexpected taste of camaraderie and the warmth it brought her, “Yes… Just right.”

 

 

** Fast and Furious**

The meeting broke up after the admiral thanked everyone again, and then she spoke to Radicand briefly before rushing off. Radicand watched everyone else attend to their duties with a little pang of envy. While she had mucked about all over Judy, she still felt very much like a fish out of water. She grinned despite her growing unease—a shimmering goldfish flapping through the sky would be a wonderful sight. Perhaps she could find some use for one in her aethernet library.

She fingered her goggles, hanging loosely at her side. No matter where she was, Dr. Radicand Jones was valuable for her aether skills. The person in the flock most likely to put her to good use, now that her sister had disappeared into her private cabin to sneak Joshua a banana, was the ship’s navigator. Radicand steeled her nerves and sought him out in his perch.

“Would you like any help up here?” she asked diffidently.

Brian had the best enclosed view on board, as he had windows all around him like the air traffic control towers down below. Even at the lower altitudes their slow ships drifted through, the wind was too strong and unpredictable to expose the processors and projector to it without voiding the handful of warranties still valid. And since those who had designed the ship had an excellent working knowledge of computers, it was standard practice to give the navigator as good a view as possible without technological assistance.

“We’re about to do some major rearranging of personnel and ships; if you want to help, I could use another pair of dedicated eyes out on the rigging,” suggested Brian. The genuine warmth in his voice made Radicand pleased with her decision, even if it wasn’t the high tech help she had hoped to offer.

It also gave her the courage to bring up another subject, “I admit I’m rather curious how you keep all the flock moving together while still independent. I wondered if it was a variation on the algorithm that flocks of birds use?”

“Yes,” he said more brusquely, “Adjusted for the extreme variation in size of airships while maximizing solar input.” His glass eye-patch sparkled in the afternoon sun, alive with the glitter of the passing data streams.

She wondered if he was still upset about the blood cult thing earlier, after all, and struggled not to show her disappointment. Maybe he was just very busy.

She paused, but he seemed to have no interest in adding to the conversation. She shrugged and said calmly, “I’ll go, then.”

Radicand let the door close completely behind her before she paused to adjust her coat and her small but sturdy parasail harness. Pari had ordered everyone on Judy to wear one the rest of the day or face being thrown overboard naked. Radicand eyed the rope ladder next to her. She wasn’t sure her skylegs were up for actually climbing up under the bladder itself. It vibrated from use—it looked like half the crew had already gone up into the rigging, safety belts clipped to whatever they could find.

The danger, as far as Radicand and a quiet moment with her goggles researching airship battles could figure, was from above. Flying up was hard, falling down was easy. And the quickest way to disable an airship was to damage the hardened balloon its gondola was suspended from. Doing that without putting one’s own airship at risk was the dilemma of the thinking warmonger.

While Judy’s inside walls were painted brightly, the outside hull was delicate shades of blue. From a distance, she might--briefly—be mistaken for a piece of sky. Between the radio silence and the attempt at camouflage, Judy and her crew seemed to be betting on invisibility. Radicand bit her lower lip, surely the pirate ships would have modern technology, radar at the least. Judy would be just as visible as any of the other ships.

 Radicand breathed in and out. She was not alone on the deck, but she and her goggles—and hopefully not her rifle—could be useful here. If she stood in the prow, she could even claim that she was prepared to repel an attack on the navigation room and its testy navigator.

Her watch buzzed at her just as she neared her gaily painted goal—“sorry” scrolled across the small screen. A small text rose appeared, then broke up and formed the words: “It’s strange having someone else here care how I do what I do. I’ve wired you permissions into my ‘net; go ahead and play once radio silence is lifted. ” There was the wind again, stinging her cheeks until they went red.

Now Radicand appreciated the glorious view. Though there was a thick layer of cloud high above the flock, it was clear and blue at their current hovering level. She watched ships bring their children and elderly into one of the five ships in the center. As Pari had explained before she left Radicand in the galley, they were circling the wagons in three dimensions.

“We have the core that we protect at all costs,” her hands shaped an invisible ball, “The Golden Lotus will be there, and they’ll have most of the children. They have the best entertainment system and a huge gym, so I’m told the children are demanding we get threatened by pirates more often.”

“Ha,” muttered Radicand.

“Then there will be the smaller sized ships in the middle, as backup for the medium sized ships. They will make up most of the outer layer with us and a few scouts at the top.” She nodded to a few other stragglers and prepared to leave.

“But why are the medium ships furthest out?” protested Radicand, “Won’t that make them the easiest to attack, with less ability to defend themselves than the really big ships? That doesn’t make sense.”

Pari glanced over her shoulder at Radicand, “Today, we have enough warning that scaring off the pirates makes sense. But we might not get much notice, next time. I don’t want to encourage next times.”  Pari’s last smile was peculiar, but she strode away before Radicand could ask her any more questions.

It was that odd smile that Radicand thought of, as she watched the moving patchwork around her. A few of the ships had chosen pastels for their bladders instead of simple white, but almost all of the hulls were a joyous celebration of color. The wide vertical stripes of gold and blue on the side of Milo’s Sunflower were one of the more simple paintjobs bobbing past.

Radicand frowned, then leaned forward as the last airships jockeyed into position. Judy was on top, just like they planned. But several other ships were at roughly the same height, and they were far enough away that Judy couldn’t get to more than one to offer assistance before the other two got captured.

Ten years ago, Pari had been careful enough to test a prototype airship she designed herself for a week before letting her grad students on it for a long weekend. But she was reckless enough that a week after that, she went on a second voyage with a dozen of them and never came back. Her resignation letter was all that was left in the university’s hangar. Years later, she still hadn’t abandoned the sky. And now they all were riding in an airship that was trying to hide in plain sight, while a handful of “scouts” drifted at the same height but further than the rest of the flock. Radicand’s left hand tapped a tattoo.

The numbers didn’t lie.

“Bait,” she whispered, and made it both curse and prayer.

 

**War and Peace**

The crew above her, it turned out, were busier than Radicand had at first realized. Covered in loops of thin rope and bristling with bludgeoning weapons and guns, they arranged themselves all over the balloon—to protect it from puncture, Radicand assumed, and perhaps take out a pirate that got too close themselves.

            Doe noticed her and waved, but climbed up the rigging before she could ask him whether or not she was right about the battle plan. She couldn’t fault the others for ignoring her, as they seemed to have some trouble managing the heavy ropes and were focused on fighting gravity.

            A beep and a ticking bomb icon on her watch alerted Radicand that Judy and her flock would be cut off from the aether in two minutes. The loss of her ability to do anything but receive information was troubling to Radicand. She had her rifle in real life—she had named it Pwned, after the Welsh town her father had been born in. It was such a tiny little place, she had never been able to find it on a map. But she felt disarmed and useless without immediate access to the virtual world outside her own goggles. Frustrated, she put them away and focused on the three ships closest to her.

High Society, true to her captain’s promise, drifted serenely just in front and to the right of Judy’s position. From her vantage point, Radicand had an unobstructed view of High Society’s deck. The gondola was decorated with a simple black and white motif repeated in slight variations around the edge. The busy crew wore simply cut black coats as they went about their tasks. Most airfolk wore dark colors outside, as it gave one that extra edge of warmth in the high, harsh air.

To Radicand’s left, The Green Belt bobbed directly opposite High Society. Her hull was mostly white, with a wide dark green stripe around its lumpy middle. Additions had been tacked higgledy-piggledy onto the basic shape of the hull, and each one had been outlined in different shades of green. Six of her crew members, gaily rigged out in dark green coats like attenuated leprechauns, swept the top deck. Every now and then, it looked like there might be a pattern to how they danced around each other. Their smooth movement was a decided contrast to The Green Belt’s generally lumpy appearance.

At a similar height but directly in front of Judy, the smaller Angels of Elevation shimmered in white and yellow, though her deck was empty of people. Radicand hoped that those three ships would somehow be able to engage successfully with the pirates but she couldn’t see how.

Radicand industriously stared out into the unchanging blue for a while, but her eyes could not bear the tedium. She glanced over and laughed when she realized that the people of High Society were setting up solar ovens on deck— shiny convex circles five feet across that reflected the sun towards their middles. Her own stomach gently complained about sleeping through breakfast. It must be past lunchtime by now…

“You’ll want this,” and the lunch cook thrust a small tray filled with wide-bottomed mugs of hot tomato soup at her. She smiled, but the woman didn’t linger long enough to do more than smile wanly back. Radicand wondered if she let go of the anger at her powerlessness, would fear fill the void? She decided frustration and tomato soup were better companions than fear and sipped gratefully.

The Green Belt’s crew finished sweeping and went inside their oddly shaped gondola. Most of the other crews had cleared their decks of people as well, either moving up to protect the bladders or inside to protect themselves. Radicand focused her enhanced sight on the distance. She wondered if her goggles would see the pirates when Judy’s sensors did, wherever they were hidden.

She checked the permissions Brian had sent… she couldn’t run them yet, but she could certainly set things up so that as soon as the radio silence was lifted, they would pull her into the aether and let her properly see what Judy could sense.

When the sweet smell of warm baked goods wafted over, Radicand’s attention snapped to the right. High Society’s crew seemed to be enjoying a delightful high tea on their spotless deck. Several of them were singing an old sea shanty.

“I wonder if they’re drunk on moonshine or love?” murmured Pari, and Radicand stopped gawking at the queer scene below her and gawked at the queer sister next to her.

Radicand was reminded that her older sister was still quite young. Radicand felt every one of her own thirty two years, though her impulsive sabbatical had made her wonder if that wasn’t too old to change. She raised an eyebrow, “So, fearless leader, what will your flock do when the pirates get here?”

“I have no idea; I’m not in charge,” sighed Pari, “The title’s just to make the paperwork easier—All I can do—all any of us can do, is wait and see.”

“You have a plan, though, right?”

“Sure. But I don’t expect the pirates to follow stage directions,” said Pari, “Brian will have control of the ships if the captains hand it over; but mainly I’m just a witness to events.”

Radicand shoved her hands into her coat pockets and tried to be content just watching. The Green Belt bobbed awkwardly, further and further from the flock. Radicand glanced around, confirming her earlier observation—most of the flock was bunched tightly together, but High Society, The Green Belt, and Angels of Elevation were definitely hovering a bit further out along with Judy.

One small woman walked onto The Green Belt’s deck wearing a hot pink belted coat. She sat down cross legged, and pulled out a penny whistle. After one experimental toot, she began playing it in earnest. High Society’s crew stopped singing their own songs and, after a brief pause, took up the words, “Dona Nobis Pacem” in unearthly tones. Radicand closed her eyes.

“No, watch,” insisted Pari urgently, and nudged her sister. They both were looking up, then, when the first of the pirate ships lurched out of the clouds above. Its sharp prow pointed directly at the tiny piper.

 

**Up and Down**

The first pirate ship was narrow and grey. Flat black eyes had been painted on its front, as well as snarling teeth. Radicand was unsurprised to see “The Shark” printed in precise capital letters on its hull.

“How does it go so fast?” she wondered.

“I expect the engines can burn some cheap bio fuel like ethanol,” said her sister, “Besides, it’s been designed to be aerodynamic, not comfortable.”

A second pirate ship, painted a dark and angry red, rushed forward and down now. It circled to engage High Society and her assembled crew. Some pirate had lettered “The Red Baron” across its port side. Black lightning bolts shot out from the name.

“You have three minutes to abandon your ship, before we board and remove you,” boomed a thunderous voice through The Red Baron’s speaker system. The harmonics on it had been subtly tweaked; Radicand shivered as she felt an unspeakable doom approach.

The crew below, however, seemed unshaken. They set down their mugs of tea, and brought their song to a glorious finish. Then they stepped off the rails of the ship and leapt into the air. Their parasails snapped cleanly open. They all swooped down and away from the assembled aircraft to land on one of the many waiting life rafts below. Most of the other airships had donated one or two to the cause; it would take genuine effort for a falling person to land in the water.

Meanwhile, The Shark approached The Green Belt silently. Its sleek design could not have been more different from The Green Belt’s unwieldy and awkward shape. The Shark shot grappling hooks from its stern. They grabbed the front of The Green Belt’s gondola and vibrated with the shock of contact. A small mob of pirates, at least eight, slid down the wires and landed on the deck. They approached the tiny woman with slow, deliberate steps. Radicand could practically hear the winches grind on The Shark’s deck as they shortened the lines. The two ships were drawn closer and closer together in the sky.

When the leader was just three yards away from her, the woman in pink stood up and bowed. Her eyes never left the pirate’s. As her body returned upright, she brought the whistle to her lips again. She blew one short sharp note, and flipped backwards away from the pirates.

The leader slapped his inner thigh right above his thick leather boots and roared. Another flip and she was gone, off the edge of the boat and falling free. Three heartbeats later, the pirate slowly sagged into a heap; his light blue great coat spread around him like a puddle of sky on the wooden boards.

The pirates left standing might have shouted, but Radicand couldn’t hear them; The Green Belt was being dragged too quickly away by The Shark. They were headed back towards the third pirate vessel: a small black thing squatting much further to the east.

Radicand grimaced, “Is that it? Are both of our airships just giving up?”

“Patience, little sister,” murmured Pari, “Watch.”

Radicand blinked; now that the pirates were here radio silence should have been lifted. She pulled her goggles on and waited for Brian to open the aether gates.

 The Red Baron’s ship unloaded its boarding team onto High Society and attached the two ships together with stout lines. The crew slowly and suspiciously prodded the tea kettles. The leader stalked back and forth and barked orders at his men but Radicand couldn’t understand why he wasn’t already securing the…

 “Where is the navigation room?” Radicand asked, frowning, “I thought it was in their stern?”

“I suspect the pirates are also wondering the same thing,” said Pari. “If they could get control of the rudder and turn it, the ship would drag less. The less strain they have to put on their own ship’s engines the better. As it is, all the entrances and exits that should be there… aren’t.”

The grappling hooks that attached The Red Baron to High Society stretched tight. Radicand could hear The Red Baron’s winches creaking as the pirate’s navigator fought the wind and the extra weight of High Society. The pacifists had—against all normal safety procedures—not tied their solar sails down before they disembarked. As the pirate ship lurched hard, one sail swung across High Society’s deck and smashed three pirates off the ship entirely.

One look at her sister’s troubled face reassured Radicand that not every step of this unfolding drama was going according to plan.

Finally Brian wired the flock back into the aether. Normally she wouldn’t distract herself, but Pari could guard that corner of the deck as well as she could. Just as Radicand was about to enjoy seeing the battle with her normal enhancements in place, a pack of huge black birds swarmed the navigator’s tower. She gasped—even in the lightest layer of the aether she was willing to use in the middle of a battle, the black swans looked deadly as they threw themselves against Brian’s aetherial defenses.

With a wave of her own hand she let loose her own aether attack, a pack of large snarling beasts. Radicand couldn’t get them inside Brian’s firewall. At least he was competent enough to hold all outside aether creatures back, friend or foe, but the birds were a distraction Brian didn’t need if he was going to try and wrest control of the flock’s scouts from pirates.

Radicand’s dogs went on the attack, snarling and leaping at the birds. They were large objects but not complex, when faced with an attack they mirrored it. To Radicand’s eyes, they transformed into dogs themselves—black, with red flaming eyes and teeth—and clawed back. Radicand blinked and let the ghost dogs fight it out without her; Pari had gone silent and she needed to see if Brian was able to use this time to his advantage.

She focused her eyes on The Red Baron. She could tell that it had definitely sunk at least a foot while she was locked into the aether. Four small figures leapt off the top of the ship’s bladder.  She hadn’t managed to make it to many group meals what with the odd hours she kept, but in such close quarters even the shyest hacker made nodding acquaintance with those who lived nearby. One of them might even have been Doe…

She watched The Red Baron slowly sink another foot lower, then impatiently switched back to the aether dog fight. Her four dogs were taking bites out of the enemy data; nothing crucial, their ears were ragged but still in place. But the malevolent programs had been harassed off the deck and back to a point in the middle of the sky. The aether landscape superimposed itself over her normal vision smoothly now, and in both worlds the third pirate ship crouched darkly in the sky.

Radicand had wondered earlier why it hadn’t attacked the quiet Angels of Elevation. Whether it had hoped to steal secrets from Judy’s servers or was merely launching a DOS attack out of pique, the other pirate ship was participating in the battle on a different level than the flock had expected. Its dogs grappled with hers, and their aether-barks and growls were a strange counterpoint to the battle between the humans trapped by flesh.

The Red Baron kept sinking until it was at the same height as High Society. The pirates safe on the captured ship were shouting to their comrades still stranded on The Red Baron. And stranded it was—The Red Baron was a write-off; there was no way they could patch its broken bladder mid-air. A few pirates shook their heads and flung themselves into the sky. They aimed their parasails towards the third pirate vessel. There was just enough time for it to send out fast life rafts before the men hit the water.

Their parasails fell through the ghost dogfight in Radicand’s double vision. They were slowly grinding the enemy dogs down, but she didn’t want hers getting so far away that they got trapped in some new web the other silent ship might possess. Radicand knew she was good, but she was alone out here without aether backup. Throwing her own dog’s a bone to keep them from harassing the pirate dogs any further away from her, she blinked and focused her sight on the other airships.

With her new permissions she should have been able to see into The Green Belt, but it was a black hole in her vision. Flustered, she pulled out and looked back at High Society. It also had no cameras or sensors inside, but at least she could see its deck with her own eyes.

The pirates still on The Red Baron pulled the vessels closer using the grappling hooks. Cursing and straining the winches, they leapt across to the deck of High Society. The last man to jump waited too long, as by now The Red Baron was much lower than its intended victim, and he missed the outstretched arms that were held out to him. Several oaths later, she saw his parasail engage, and he coasted down and out of sight.

The pirates still standing on High Society’s deck now chopped single-mindedly at the grappling lines to remove them. The ship listed dangerously to the side as The Red Baron towed her down along with it. The solar ovens were secured to the deck, but their kettles were not—they tipped over two pirates, scalding them with over-boiled tea and making them roar in pain.

Finally they got rid of the last of the grappling hooks, and the ship righted itself with a cheerful swing that sent the loose sails sweeping across the deck in the other direction, taking out another pirate. Radicand was unable to confirm whether he regained consciousness quickly enough to engage his parasail or not and found, to her vague concern, that she only cared in a distant and unemotional way. A cold numbness seemed to have overtaken her body and senses; she was a witness to these real and violent events, but could not summon the will to feel more passionate about them.

She glanced over at Pari, who was leaning forward and watching The Green Belt get dragged further away with much less distress than Radicand would have expected. Radicand frowned; Pari knew what was going on and she didn’t. That knowledge imbalance would have rankled less if her sister hadn’t kept her at such a distance for so long. Finally Pari was nearby, but she still wouldn’t tell Radicand what was going on. Radicand felt the rage in her belly; the warmth of her feelings towards her sister was what was keeping her from getting burnt by the pirates’ screams. Maybe that anger was useful. She might not be able to control her dogs’ activities so well if she let herself get distracted by reality.

 Without access to High Society’s steering controls, the pirates still on her deck were completely at the wind’s mercy. A few inspired pirates climbed into the rigging, and Radicand wondered if they would now smash the hard envelope from below, so as to slowly lower the gondola. They might hold it hostage, or merely destroy it out of spite before attempting escape to the third pirate ship. That one still hovered malevolently in the sky beyond them all.

She dived into the aether briefly, to check on her furry charges—but they were pacing back and forth on their leashes, growling. The pirate dogs, at a signal she couldn’t quite detect, were bounding back across the sky towards the third ship. As they neared it, they leapt up and transformed back into their original black swan forms, then disappeared into the ship’s aether matrix. In both worlds, the third pirate ship’s engines engaged and it started to move. She squinted, willing her goggles to find some new magnification, but the pirate ship was too far away for Radicand to tell which flock member they were going to target next.

A ragged cheer from the human pirates jerked her attention to the left— The Shark was swooshing back to the flock. It struck her as a little arrogant that The Shark hadn’t first tethered The Green Belt to the third pirate ship before returning. The pirates on High Society felt no such censure. They hooted and waved their arms in celebration. Any moment now, Radicand expected the frustratingly agile Shark to attach itself to High Society and tow both ships and crews away.

Indeed, The Shark did swoop in closely. So close it looked like it was aiming for Judy. Radicand braced herself for whatever impact this mad pirate ship was planning, and even Pari gasped.

To her complete and utter astonishment, on the deck of the fiercest looking ship she had ever seen, a half dozen green-clad figures waved cheerfully at them and grinned. One of them was the old man who hadn’t identified himself or his ship; she would recognize his grin anywhere.

“Is that?” she raised her eyebrows at Pari.

Her sister grinned at her, “Tell Brian, Hansuke and his crew were completely successful.”

She looked out at the third ship—now it was clear that it was actually retreating as fast as its engines would allow. The Red Baron had sunk out of sight, and her crew was either scattered or stranded on High Society. As for The Shark…

“Brian,” she sent, pinching herself, “I think The Green Belt has captured a pirate ship. And I think High Society has captured a pirate crew.” She could almost hear him whooping in delight across the aether, but it was her sister that made her laugh out loud.

“That settles it, we simply must have a party,” quipped Pari, “An age old question has finally been answered: Ninjas versus pirates, ninjas win.”

...to be continued...