The Elementalist

22. Aethercraft & Coquetry-1

Aethercraft & CoquetryAfter Voi and her party followed the captain back into the hangar, he introduced her to a handful of key personnel including his lead mechanic, Emíl: a short man with a plump, round face and spiky dark hair. He was likely from South Borellia, Voi presumed, judging by his harsh, thick accent as well as his tanned features. In any case, it was Emíl who would teach Voi how to service the awaiting aerocraft during times where she was alone and the machine needed repairs.

Most notable, however, was Lester, Captain Neverri’s right-hand man. Also an inventor and engineer, Lester was a tall, skinny, fair-haired fellow who reminded Voi very much of Paul with his animated features: a large bright smile, laughing green eyes, a humorous face. However, Lester was far more refined and diplomatic in his social relations than Paul. And while Lester’s features were quite cheerful on the outside, he just so happened to be a very mellow man.

Unlike Emíl in his greasy coveralls, Lester was wearing a clean sweater vest over a collared shirt and tie with a pair of starched trousers, giving him a very smart yet casual look. His crooked nose lent him a peculiar brand of handsomeness, in Voi’s eyes, though none of these things accounted for the real reason she took a liking to him. In truth, Voi felt very much at ease around Lester, and so it was him that she primarily directed her attention to—if only to avoid the involuntary arousal that came from locking eyes with the captain.

It wasn’t difficult for Voi to see why Lester paired well with the captain. As they introduced everyone who had contributed to the construction of the aerocraft—still obscured by a tarpaulin, much to Voi’s dismay—the two men easily took turns on talking points, sometimes finishing each other’s thoughts or amending them where necessary.

A fitting partnership, Voi surmised.

In any case, whenever Captain Neverri spoke, she kept her gaze averted, appearing aloof and disinterested when really, she was only trying to protect herself. After all, the more distance she put between herself and the captain, she reasoned, the less likely she would be to blush for no apparent reason.

As their discussion turned to the aerocraft itself, Voi was certain that the captain rather liked the sound of his own voice as he waxed poetic and philosophical on the unconventionality of his original design—or perhaps he was only doing this to impress her. She did notice out of the corner of her eye how he kept glancing over to see if she was still listening, his expression growing more concerned by the second as she continued avoiding his gaze.

“If you don’t mind, Miss Román, I’d like to show you the MR-6 now.” He faced the concealed object.

Voi blinked, as she’d been caught off guard. “MR-six, you say?”

The captain paused and looked back, somewhat miffed. “Yes, that’s what I said.”

“How many pilots, exactly, were there before me, Captain Neverri?”

“Three,” he said, his expression flat. “Excluding myself.”

“Two of them trusted AAC airship men-turned-flimsy fliers,” Colonel Snipes added. “Caleb Parks and Benny Nord. You flew against these men in air derbies, alongside them in air shows. You know what those men are capable of.”

She looked at the captain. “Were they hurt?”

“To some extent, though they knew what they were signing up for.” He moved briskly towards the aerocraft.

Voi c****d her head, staring in disbelief momentarily before hastening to catch up to him. Determined to elicit more answers, she asked, “What’s so wrong with your aerocraft that not even you, let alone a bundle of other perfectly qualified pilots, can fly it?”

Captain Neverri stopped. His body stiffened, his half-turned head revealing a set of clenched jaws. The following silence left the air stifled in the hangar, and a dropped tool echoed in the background. Neverri spoke slowly. “It isn’t. That. Simple.”

“Oh really?” Voi folded her arms, unconvinced. “Tell me, why is that?”

Neverri faced her squarely. “Were you even listening when I mentioned that the MR-6 was equipped with an unconventional engine for generating lift?”

“Yes, some sort of tilting engine that provides multi-directional thrust.” She shrugged. “What of it?”

“What of it?” He suppressed a laugh. “The problem with flying the MR-6 has nothing to do with the aerocraft itself but rather the exotic energy it channels.”

Voi unfolded her arms. “Speak plainly, captain. What do you mean?”

Captain Neverri stormed over and stared down at Voi, warning in a low voice, “I must remind you not to speak of these matters outside of these walls. Confidentiality was part of the terms of your employment. Speaking of employment, did you even bring your papers?”

“Well, yes, I… I left them in the vehicle with my driver.” She silently cursed herself for the oversight.

“Then you will bring them to me tomorrow.”

“Of course.”

He held her gaze, the corner of his mouth subtly quirking.

Voi’s heart beat fiercely in her chest as she realized he was playing a game.

Captain Neverri quickly resumed his lecture, leaving her baffled. He assumed an instructive posture. “As I was saying, Miss Román, the MR-6 is capable of overcoming the effects of gravity without the use of a conventional engine, due to its ability to manipulate the aether. A unique crystal has been placed at its core which, when activated, lends it anti-gravitational attributes. In other words, Miss Román, it hovers—and, in the right hands, it will fly.”

Her lips parted, an unformed question hanging in the balance. “So, the reason no one seems to be capable of piloting your machine is that they actually aren’t equipped to channel the energy field it produces when activated?”

“Precisely, which is why I require a different sort of pilot.” His eyes widened and his brow lifted as if he were hinting at something.

Voi nodded. “One that’s genetically suited for increased exposure to aetheric energy. Like an emelesiac. Like… me.” She looked aside, somewhat surprised. So, this is what Ronny was talking about when he mentioned emelesiacs being ideal for the plane.

“Yes!” Captain Neverri threw his hands in the air. “Finally, someone who understands my reasoning.” He tossed the colonel a glare, which the officer ignored.

“And we know this how?” asked Lester.

“I conducted some independent research on emelesiacs years ago. Nothing conclusive, mind you.” The captain gestured offhandedly, adding, “Call it a hunch.”

Lester gave him a dubious look though didn’t offer a rebuttal.

“So,” said Voi, “what now?”

“Now,” the captain shook his finger in the air, “well, now, we test my hypothesis.” He rushed towards the aerocraft, intent on unveiling his creation.

Voi glanced at the others with an uncertain look, then sped after the engineer.

* * *

The captain dusted off his hands, standing back to admire his handiwork. “Ladies and gentlemen, the MR-6!”

“What in Creation…” Milia was at a loss for words.

Colonel Snipes snorted. “That’s what I said when I first saw the thing.”

Voi was similarly shocked, as the revealed object looked nothing like any aeroplane she’d ever seen. Still, she longed to touch it but thought this too forward and retracted an exploratory hand. She passed the captain an inquiring look.

“Go on.” He encouraged her with a nod.

No one spoke as Voi drew near the MR-6. She found herself holding her breath in reverence; Colonel Snipes was right to compare it to one of Ramboit’s controversial abstract masterpieces.

Its grey metallic body was exceptionally streamlined and much flatter than that of an ordinary plane. A gentle bulge ran along the length of its nearly nonexistent fuselage, which was riveted to conjoin with its swept-back wings so it seemed to be comprised entirely of wings. Here, within this bulge, was also a cockpit enclosed by a canopy—perhaps an acrylic construct, Voi guessed, knowing the captain’s penchant for innovation.

Propped up low on its landing gear, the aerocraft reminded Voi of a manta ray—like the ones her mother used to take her to see as a little girl at the Aquiriem du Habour Tuccila back in Tryste. So sinuously crafted were the wings that Voi was very much left with the striking impression of a work of art… if she dared venture that far in her opinion of a metal aerocraft.

Well, Voi mused, he certainly has an eye for aesthetics. Of course, she’d seen many of Captain Neverri’s private dirigibles and commercial airships—only from afar, regrettably—and thought those attractive as well. His showier, slower luxury liners sometimes had exteriors which were ballooned or ruched in an artistic fashion—hardly practical, from an aerodynamic standpoint, though the wealthier clients who often booked passages on these vessels didn’t seem to mind.

It was safe to say Voi had always admired the captain’s work, though, this… this was something else.

Taken by the modern design, Voi ran her hand along the contour of a wing, her fingers hovering an appropriate distance away from the surface. She traced its undulations, peaking where the tips curved up slightly. She visualized how the wind would skim the aerocraft, accepting it so graciously, so effortlessly into its ever-shifting currents. Going through these motions calmed her mind, body, and spirit, causing her to forget her nervousness around Neverri.

He watched Voi from a distance with a keen, scientific interest, his chin propped thoughtfully on his fist—a fact she noted marginally with a quirk of the mouth as she continued her exploration of the elegant flying machine.

Reaching the front of the aerocraft, Voi spotted an array of thin slots for air intake shaped similarly to gills—yet another manta ray-like feature, she acknowledged. A larger orifice for intake sat further below on the underside, reminding Voi of a mouth.

She bent down and peered inside.

Rather than a conventional propeller, it seemed the captain had installed a turbine engine to provide a propelling force—the likes of which Voi had only seen in scientific magazines such as Aero Today. I wonder if it works in conjunction with the crystal core he mentioned.

Voi looked at the captain. “You designed this?”

He laughed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“I suppose it’s just, well…”

He stared at her, waiting.

Voi licked her lips. “The level of artistry you’ve managed to display in this aerocraft is simply… admirable.” She blushed.

“Ha!” He smiled. “At last, a compliment from the aviatrix.”

She turned abruptly towards the aerocraft, hiding her thrilled expression. “How does it work, exactly?” she asked, silently reminding herself to breathe.

“Ah, Miss Román… the consummation of my entire afternoon has hung upon the anticipation of hearing that very question come from your lips. Truly, I’m grateful that you’ve asked! Emíl,” he said with a snap of his fingers. He switched to Borellian. “See if you can’t find me a dolly—and a flashlight, if you will.” The MR-6 was just high enough for someone to roll under and service it from below.

The short man nodded then scuttled off to retrieve said objects. He came back later with a small wheeled platform and placed it on the ground before the aerocraft. Finally, he grabbed a silver flashlight from a pocket in his coveralls then tossed it to the captain, who caught it with ease.

Captain Neverri glanced around at the others then barked, “What are you all just standing around here for? This doesn’t concern you! Find something useful to do.”

The personnel scattered, caught unawares by the abrasive order. Lester just shook his head before taking off. Meanwhile, Colonel Snipes and Milia exchanged unimpressed looks.

The captain squatted next to the MR-6 then motioned for Voi to join him.

Surprised, her eyes enlarged.

He switched back to Windi now, perhaps to gain her trust. “It’s alright. I won’t bite you—not intentionally, anyway.” He winked.

Voi knew better than to fall for the oft-wily charms of Borellian men, who were ‘high on pride and low on inhibitions,’ as her mother would say. She looked at Milia first, who returned an impatient hand gesture. Sighing, Voi lowered herself to the captain’s level.

As she settled onto the ground, an unusual sound met her ears: him, sniffing at her. Slowly, searchingly—as if seeking out a particular scent. He even closed his eyes at one point.

Voi froze, feeling as if an unfamiliar canine had chosen to make her acquaintance with its snout. Cautiously, she turned her face towards Neverri. He’d stopped sniffing, though his eyes were still closed, his nose tilted into the air. “Captain?”

His eyes snapped open, and he peered at her. “Odd. You don’t really smell like an emelesiac.”

“What?”

He grunted as he settled onto the ground. “Emelesiacs still on urche have this,” he pressed the tips of his fingers on one hand together, shaking them emphatically, “this unique smell about them, like an exotic wildflower, but you don’t have this scent.” He lowered his hand, then c****d his head. “Pity, I find the smell rather pleasant.” He tapped his fingers on the ground behind him and stared at Voi as if, not having found this scent on her, she no longer pleased him.