Robert Hardcastle paused before the huge set of double doors that led to the skydocks of Urbpolis.
“You’re sure it’ll work?” he asked the Chief Engineer, Hardwyk. The man rubbed his hands together as he spoke, nodding as he did.
“Of course it will. I admit that the five test models we made all ended in calamity but this…the balance of the ship is perfect, its wood has been carved exactly to my specifications. It will be a truly wonderful sight to see it fly.”
“Fair enough.” Robert said, shaking his head as he turned back towards the doors. He drew in a breath as they were opened by two guards, filling the corridor with the evening glare of the sun. There came a cheer, a huge cheer that almost knocked him backwards a step or two. Steadying himself, he went through the opening, emerging onto the skydocks.
The throng around him was huge and very unusual. Citizens had never been allowed into the skydocks, but today was different. Today was the dawn of a new era in flight.
There was a path through the crowd to his destination, the deck of the newest development, a three decker monstrosity that the engineers referred to as the Skymaster. He stood there for a moment, unconsciously waving at the crowd as his eyes remained fixed on the ship, resting in a dock with its deck level with the platform. He still couldn’t believe that it could fly, towering above the rest of the ships in port. Three times the size of a frigate, the engineers said, capable of holding five hundred good men.
He began to walk, his strides long and imposing, his cloak fluttering slightly in the stiff March breeze. The crowd continued to cheer, but he ignored them, his body turned to the balcony above the door, where the King and his closest nobles stood. But his eyes did not look at the King, they looked at the children standing beside him. His children. He gave them a little wave as he turned once more, heading for the dock.
As he stepped on board, he went into the special place he always went to when flying. The cheers quietened in his ears as he headed up the steps to the wheel, his breaths quick and shallow as his fingers closed around the wheel. It was a beautifully carved wheel, one of the finest he had ever held. He turned his head to the left, towards the balcony. The King raised a hand, a sign of respect for his adventuring friend. He’d asked to actually be on board the ship when it took off, but the engineers dissuaded him, speaking of the potential danger.
He thrust such thoughts of danger from his mind, and shouted for the engines to be started. There was a token crew of around twenty on board, enough to get the ship in the air and to circle around before landing back at the dock. If all went well, the flight would last a mere five minutes.
There came the familiar hum from the engines, the propellers that provided the upward thrust began to spin, with a force he’d never seen before on a ship. The ship began to rise slowly, with a gasp from the crowd as it did so, a shadow falling across them. As it rose further, the shadow began to fall across the balcony, bathing the King and Robert’s children in the Skymaster’s shade.
Then it began to move forward, slowly at first, but picking up speed. Supposedly, at top speed it could do around fifteen knots, not the fastest, but with a ship this size he was hardly expecting schooner-esque speeds. He turned the wheel slightly, to test the handling. It was slightly stiff, nothing too difficult to manage and it could probably be sorted out. After all, a new ship was likely to have teething problems.
The ship began to climb and pick up speed, the wind starting to rush through Robert’s hair. He chuckled, he loved this feeling, this feeling of freedom, as though he could fly and touch the very sun with his hand. This was why he put his life on the line to pioneer flight, so others could experience the same freedom.
Then came the explosion. It burst Robert’s eardrums with its sheer power, knocking him aside as he clung onto the wheel for dear life. The ship began to drop instantly, in the worst way possible. It was tilting, the nose pointing straight to the ground. Robert’s hat flew off his head and was cast behind him into the wind. They were barely two hundred feet off the ground, and it was starting to approach at an ever increasing speed. He turned behind him, to see smoke billowing.
He then realised that the engines had just exploded. He’d been in many terrible situations, trapped in the Heathen Lands with a schooner that was missing half its propellers to name one, but this was the worst case scenario. His clutched at the wheel, his feet starting to lose their grip on the tilting deck.
How? Of all things, the damned engines!?
And then the feeling struck him that he had never felt before. Fear. He was scared out of his mind, the face muscles tightening as he wrestled with the wheel, his feet now flying out behind him, then above him as the ship’s nose began to flip again, the ship slowly turning upside down.
“Come on you damned piece of junk!” he roared through his clenched teeth, wind drowning out his words. The ground was so close now, his teeth finally parted to let out a scream of frustration, of rage, of sheer terror. He slammed his fist into the wheel, holding on with one hand as the ship finally hit the ground, the explosion illuminating the evening sky. But even the explosion could not drown out the cries of the crowd, nor could the fading light of the explosion hide the horrified expressions of his children, Sykil, Anna, Tarkon and Carson.
