Trouble on the High Skies

I whipped my hand out of danger with a sharp intake of breath, and inspected the burn site. It was already red and angry. Great. Something else to add to the list of things going wrong. The newly patched steam pipe in front of me hissed in fury as the airship shook violently from whatever was occurring on the top deck, and I yelled in frustration as another pipe burst down the line. Whatever the Captain’s idea of maneuvering was, keeping the ancient ship on full power in a firefight was proving to be a quickly worsening idea. Scrambling down the walkway, I tried to find a balance between holding on for my life and patching the ripped metal.

The warning lights turned the engine room an ominous red as that dreaded siren began to scream. All hands on deck. I knew, as I dashed up the rickety ladder to the main hull, that this might be the last time I’d be surrounded by my blessed steam. I even caught myself already beginning to miss the constant danger of being burned.

A thick purple goo coated the inside of the hull. It stuck to my skin like jam as I looked around for the source of the disgusting mess. In the middle of the gruesome scene were the deflated remains of two massive, bug-like creatures, their translucent wings sticking out at odd angles, and burn marks on their exoskeletons where they’d been scorched by the crew’s incendiaries.

“Alex!”

I turned around only to come face-to-face with Bartholomew, who was still wearing his roguish grin even under a layer of alien innards.

“Fancy these little blighters burstin’ open when ye stab ‘em with a sabre,” he roared, seeming to think the entire situation was something fit for our bi-weekly comedy club. ‘Little’ was hardly how I’d describe them, as they nearly reached the ceiling. A massive gaping hole at the other end of the hull indicated how they’d gotten down here. Shouts and blasts could be heard from the upper deck.

Bartholomew clapped a hand on my shoulder, his demeanor becoming serious. “Are ye ready, lass?”

I nodded. The siren blared in my ears as we took the half-collapsed stairs two at a time, emerging into a scene of smashed wood and fire. Cannons blasted at three more bug-like aliens, though it hardly seemed to have an effect. The Captain stood at the helm, bellowing orders that no one could hear as she fought to keep the crippled airship from capsizing. I saw the problem immediately: our front right propeller had been ripped off, leaving a gaping wound on the starboard side. If I survived this, I’d have my work cut out for me.

A horrible clicking made me turn, and I came face to face with one of the terrifying creatures. Its kaleidoscope eyes were soulless and mechanical, and its mandibles whirred in an excited frenzy. I had just enough time to scream before--schwing--a sabre buried itself straight in the middle of its head.

“Watch it!” Bartholomew yelled as he bounded past my frozen form, wrenching his sabre from the insect. This was a mistake, however. Upon removal of the projectile, the same purple substance began leaking from the wound, and the creature swelled like a balloon. It became impossibly big, taking up three quarters of the deck, before its exoskeleton could no longer contain it, and it burst like a grenade. The cracking blast drowned all my senses and sent me flying backward, my head connecting with something hard before I was lost from consciousness.

Muttering filtered into my awareness, and I blinked blearily under the introduction of candlelight to my worldview.

“Alright, lass?” Bartholomew’s husky voice, much softer than usual, pulled me fully into reality. I nodded, then clutched my head as a stabbing pain radiated through it. Rough bandages that felt as though they were made from clothes wrapped around my skull.

“Did--did we make it?” I asked, barely able to summon more than a whisper.

“Aye,” the Captain’s voice came from my other side. “That blasted thing blowin’ up catapulted the others off the ship. ‘Course, they can fly, but did nae come back in any case.”

“Knew we were too good for ‘em!” Bartholomew boomed. I groaned as my head throbbed painfully.

“Quiet, Barth,” the Captain admonished. “Anyway, we lost a few out there today. Sam got run right through with one of their stinkin’ legs, an’ Esmond bonnie well cleared the clouds when they threw ‘im. Nae a body knows where Victoria is.”

“Here,” squeaked a woman in the direction of the doorway. I turned over and sat up, eager to see my colleague despite my brain feeling as though it would burst the same way those bugs had.

“Vicki!” Bartholomew took two long strides over to her, and swept her into a bear hug. “Where’ve you been? I didn’t see a strand of your golden hair once during all the fun!”

“I was…” Victoria cast a nervous glance in the direction of the Captain, “I was hiding behind the firearms.”

“For a Weapons Officer, you’re an awfully big scaredy-cat.” A smile played around the Captain’s lips.

“Five alien invaders, fine,” Bartholomew chuckled, “but one more, and I’m going to become a Weapons Officer!”

Author's Note

Prompt: "Five alien invaders, fine, but one more and I'm going to become a Weapons Officer!"

Writing this was a blast (ha, puns!). I hope you like it!