The Heart of the Sky

Ten thousand meters up, the cloud sea churned like a boiled kettle.

The iron-clad steam dirigible Olympus rode the air currents like a floating fortress. Along its black riveted hull, forty massive bronze propellers pounded out a steady rhythm, chewing through the mist and leaving long, white trails across the blue.

Inside the grand ballroom, the champagne was flowing.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" The Mayor stood on the raised dais, adjusting his velvet lapel before lifting a silver goblet. "Welcome aboard the Olympus! Tonight, you will witness the pinnacle of imperial ingenuity—the revelation of the Heart of the Sky!"

Under a thick dome of reinforced glass, a cut gem the size of a grapefruit hovered four inches off the pedestal. It pulsed with a cold, violet radiance, feeding anti-gravitic power into the engines that kept fifty thousand tons of iron afloat.

Over by the brass-railed balcony, a young gentleman in a tailored coat took a slow sip of dry wine. He had messy brown hair and a lazy, crooked smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Pretty thing," Jasper murmured to himself, resting a gloved fingers against the spring-loaded winch tucked inside his left cuff. "Look better in my satchel, though."

As the premier phantom of the upper reaches, Jasper had mailed his warning letter to the Chief’s desk three days back, right on schedule.

He took a step toward the glass, but before his boot could hit the polished mahogany floor, an iron hand clamped down on his collarbone with the weight of an anvil.

"Mr. Vance. Your taste in wine is almost as trashy as your record."

Jasper turned his head slowly, meeting a pair of grey eyes set in a sharp, unblinking face.

Inspector Nora Vance—no relation, much to his daily annoyance—stood anchored behind him. Her left arm was a brass and iron marvel, micro-valves along the forearm venting tiny wisps of hot steam into the cool air of the hall.

"Inspector," Jasper purred, giving his hat a polite little tilt. "You’ve tightened the pressure seals on that arm. It suits you. Very industrial."

"Save it. Every hatch on this deck is lined with my men. You aren't floating off tonight." Her brass fingers pinched down, catching the sinew near his neck.

"We'll see," Jasper winked.

BOOM.

The overhead chandeliers flickered, and a starburst of red distress flares exploded through the skylights. The room went wild—glass shattering, skirts rustling, aristocrats shoving for the side exits. Jasper dropped low, slipping through her grip like oil, and fired his wrist-line straight toward the iron trusses forty feet up.

"Get back here!" Nora barked.

Her mechanical hand launched its own tether, catching an iron beam, and she hauled herself into the rafters after him like a cat after a swallow.

They danced across the narrow girders while the crowd screamed below. Brass fists swung, steel cables whipped through the dark, and Jasper dodged by hairbreadths, twisting through the churning gear-work of the main drive. As they tangled near the primary winch, he flipped backward over her shoulder, his fingers deftly pulling the keycard right out of her leather waist-pouch.

"Thanks for the pass, Inspector!" he called out, dropping thirty feet to land lightly on the display pedestal.

Click.

The glass case slid back. Jasper scooped the glowing stone into his coat.

Before he could even check the weight, the entire airship dropped twenty feet in a single stomach-churning plunge. The brass warning sirens began to shriek, high and shrill over the noise of the panic.

ATTENTION. MAIN ENGINE OVERRIDE ACTIVE. IMPACT IN THREE MINUTES.

Along the outer catwalks, the starboard propellers burst into plumes of black smoke. The massive iron hull listed fifteen degrees, nosing down toward the gray sea miles below.

Jasper held onto the pedestal, his smile going flat. Nora dropped beside him, her face white under the grease smudges.

She scrambled to the secondary console, prying off the brass cover. "The governor's locked out... someone dropped a military deadbolt into the main logic array!"

Up on the second-tier VIP balcony, the Mayor stepped into a small, armored tender craft. Through the thick portal, he looked down at the chaos on the floor, his mouth split in a wide, yellow grin.

"Farewell, my friends!" his voice came through the external speakers, tinny and bright. "A tragic disaster! The Great Ship lost, the famous Heart stolen by the notorious Jasper... what a marvelous insurance payout! What a clean way to clear the senate floor!"

The small craft released its locks, shooting away into the clouds.

"That rotten bastard," Nora hissed, shoving her brass forearm directly into the drive housing to force the gears back. High-pressure steam blasted out of the seams, turning the iron hot enough to scorch her leather sleeve.

Jasper looked down at the crowd trampling each other at the locked fire doors, then looked at the cold, heavy blue stone in his hand.

"I’m a thief," he muttered to the empty air, rubbing his nose. "I don't do public service."

He turned and bolted toward the open reactor pit.

"Jasper! What are you doing?!" Nora yelled, stumbling after him. "The core’s going to vent! It'll turn you to cinder!"

"Get your arm into the third gear-assembly!" Jasper yelled back, leaning over the white-hot lip of the reactor casing. "I need one second of manual delay to seat the stone!"

Nora didn't argue. She threw herself flat on the grating, jamming her brass arm straight into the teeth of the five-foot drive gear.

CRUNCH.

The iron fingers sheared off, the pressure valves popped, and the massive gear caught—just for a single beat.

Jasper shoved the Heart straight into the empty housing.

He slammed the manual overload lever. The stone flared, turning from pale violet to a blinding, sun-bright white. A pulse of raw anti-gravitic force rolled through the ribs of the ship like a heavy thunderclap.

The sea was fifty feet away—close enough to throw spray against the lower portholes—when the fall stopped.

The ship lurched, groaned, and then settled into a gentle, hovering sway three yards above the water.

Ten minutes later, the fog began to clear.

Three Navy gunboats were already circling the Mayor’s fallen tender a mile out, their deck guns trained on his hatch.

On the ruined upper promenade of the Olympus, Nora sat back against a ventilator, her torn left sleeve pulled back from the stump of her brass arm.

Where Jasper had been standing, there was only a pair of unlocked iron wrist-cuffs resting on the wood, beside the glass pedestal. Inside the display case sat the Heart of the Sky—dark now, its energy spent, resting like a piece of blue glass.

Nora reached down into her pocket and pulled out a small piece of heavy cardstock he’d left behind.

On the front was a bad sketch of a fox in a top hat. On the back, written in dark, hasty ink:

My dear Inspector,

Left the fake stone back on the stand for your report. As for the real one... consider it payment for the repair bill on that arm of yours. The sky’s a big place.

J.

A mile above the water, cutting through the red glare of the setting sun, a tiny gold-winged glider rose out of the mist, heading straight out toward the open horizon.