If you would like to peer into her, slightly less steampunk, much less pulp world you will find a viewport here.

Scottie staggered under the weight of his clinging captain. Sticky's deep voice had risen to a shrill, panicked shriek. Scottie opened his mouth to soothe his captain, but as soon as his lips parted, long, spidery fingers crept within and attempted to shake hands with his tongue and search for better places to hide somewhere past his tonsils. Scottie gagged and sputtered. He clamped his teeth down on the tender skin invading his oral cavity and spit out the offending appendage.

Scottie worked his arms free of Sticky's winding embrace and tried shoving the captain away from him. Sticky's panicked screams intensified and he squeezed tighter, the heel of his boot finding a hold in Scottie's inner hip socket, causing Scottie's vision to blur with pain. The large birds inside the warehouse were not taking kindly to the noise and were stomping their large feet and rustling their fluffy plumes. Their obvious agitation only intensified the Captain's fear and he tried climbing farther up Scottie's body. Scottie took advantage of his newly vacated mouth and cried out for help. Sticky shimmied himself upward and attempted to curl himself, scarf-like, around Scottie's head. Scottie teetered backward, flailing his arms to maintain his balance. Frightened by the movement, the large birds began making low sounds in their long throats; a haunting "woop-woop-woop."

Sticky yelped and tried to climb higher, but ran out of places to climb and ended up perched on Scottie's shoulders. He squawked again and clung to Scottie's head and shoulders. Rick stepped into Scottie's limited field of vision. There was a muffled thump and the captain's body went limp and slithered down from Scottie's broad shoulders and into Rick's waiting arms. Scottie rolled his shoulders in relief and took a good look around. Rick was standing with the Captain's long, lean form cradled limply in his arms. Rick gave a slightly apologetic shrug. "He was scaring the cargo."

Scottie nodded. "Get him back to the ship quick and send S'more. Ratty an' them will be wakin' soon."

Rick nodded and stepped out of the warehouse.

Scottie looked over the agitated ostriches and rubbed the soft brown stubble on his jaw. He looked over at the redheaded twins and raised an eyebrow. "You two know anything about handlin' birds?"

Edwin looked thoughtfully out of a bruised and swollen eye. "Aunt Myrna had a cockatoo."

Dylan nodded. "Almost as mean as she was."

Scottie stepped closer to the giant black and white birds. Their tiny black eyes glittered in their small fuzzy heads and a few of them let out piercing cries. A shadow filled the doorway and he turned to see Captain Russel entering behind them. His bright blue fitted coat and pale tan riding pants were crisp and clean and his fair hair was lacquered into a straight side part. Behind him, three of his crewmembers were carting a large bag of feed and a coil of rope.

Dylan glared at him. "Thought the cargo was a secret."

Russel held up his gloved hands in mock confusion. "I don't know what you imply?"

Dylan looked disgusted. "Oh, so you always bring birdseed and rope along to pick up unknown cargo?"

Russel's men went to work calming and gathering the feathered cargo while Russel stood by, staying clean. Russel smiled at Dylan's accusation. "Is always better to be prepared, no?"

Dylan glowered. "Yeah, always better to be a useless cheating ponce is more like it."

Russel's men led their corral of pacified birds out of the warehouse and Russel followed them. "Ah! Who is useless and who is stuck with angry birds, I ask you?"

Dylan dismissed him with a flick of his hand.

Edwin shook his head and muttered, "Ponce." under his breath.

The birds in the corral marked for the Dread Ship Shirley hadn't become any happier after watching their comrades being given choice treats and led away. Scottie could hear the first groans of Rattling's men returning to consciousness and looked out the wide doors toward the ships. S'more was picking his way across the dusty expanse and Scottie was pleased to see that he also had a coil of rope.

The hulking Samoan reached the warehouse just as the first of Rattling's men were sitting up and looking over their wounds. S'more blinked his dark eyes to adjust to the darkness before he approached the pen full of frothy, feathered bodies. The rotund cannon man made a few soft noises in his throat and the tiny heads all turned toward him, beady, round eyes sparkling in the dusty dimness.

S'more moved slowly, keeping up his soft murmurs. The birds seemed transfixed, their sharp beaks like needles pointing to him as their magnetic north. One by one, he slipped the rope over their long pink necks. With slow, fluid movements, he unlatched the gate and led them out into the sunlight.

The crowd watched quietly as the massive islander, his face covered in the geometric shadows of tribal ink, his brown arms thick as tree trunks, and his flat bare feet shuffling backwards through the dust of the dock, led the row of peacefully mesmerized birds. His magic seemed to hold the audience just as spellbound. The heckling and cheers had faded into a breath-held silence. Scottie and the twins followed the train of feathered friends, keeping a watchful eye on the minefield of fallen enemies.

The cargo doors had been dropped open and S'more shuffled backward up the ramp, leading his infatuated captives into the ship's hold. As soon as the last bird was on board, Scottie and the twins pulled the doors closed and rushed to get the ship in the air.

They lifted away from the ground and left the audience shaking their heads in amazement. The day that the Dread Ship Shirley had fallen out of the sky would be spoken of for years to come. Those that had not been there would claim that they were, and little Midge Panderwhip would never be the same.

Scottie was in a rush to get wind in his sails. They had lost too much time fighting Ratty and the birds. They would be looking to make it up in the air. He pulled loose a tie and let the canvas bellow. Oscar had the engines singing their whirring, clippity-clap tune before the crowd had dissolved below them. The balloons were straining their netting, dragging the swinging body of the ship higher into the sky, looking for stronger currents. They found their cruising altitude and settled in at a quick clip. Scottie dropped out of the rigging and through the hatch. He could hear the clattering of Cook at work before he leaned through the doorway to the galley. "Sticky gonna be ok with these things on board?"

Cook's pot roast jowls quivered. "Locked him in his cabin with damn near a case of rum 'fore he woke up. Hope he forgets 'bout 'em an' stays put."

Scottie grabbed a stuffed roll off the counter and nodded. "We'll all keep an eye out. Next landin' is only a day away."

Cook shook his meatball skull. "Why'd it have to be blasted birds?"

Scottie bit into the roll and shook his head. "Had to be somethin'!"

Cook dropped a few more stuffed rolls into bags. "Take those to the others, will ya?"

Scottie grabbed the bags and ducked out the doorway. The moment he stepped out into the low hallway, the hairs on his neck stood on end, then he heard a sound coming from deep within the ship; a muffled pounding, combined with off-key singing and a low whistling hum. Scottie spun toward the Captain's quarters and charged down the hall. The door was hanging off its hinges and three bottles sat empty on the desk. "Oh, fresh hell!" Scottie gasped as he spun on his heels and bailed toward the cargo hold.

He door was wide open and Scottie let out a miserable groan and dropped the sack lunches. Sticky was singing at the top of his lungs as he fought to release the massive hatch that allowed them to load and unload cargo. The ostriches were nervously puffing their throats and stomping at the ground. They were edging away from Sticky and toward the main part of the ship. Scottie moved slowly closer, trying not to give the giant birds any reason to attack as he moved into the doorway. "Captain. Please don't open that door."

Sticky turned his great green globes on Scottie. They were glowing with a panicked dementia. "Ungodly creatures! What kind of monster gives a creature wings and won't let them fly! No wonder they're so mean!"

Scottie took a puzzled breath. "Opening that hatch isn't going to help them fly, Captain."

Sticky gave a sad chuckle. "Will for a bit."

Scottie moved slowly into the room, keeping close to the edge. Three of the plumed beasts shuffled into the hallway, keeping wary eyes on him. He could see now that the latch for the door had been tampered with and was strangely grateful for the sabotage. "Captain, that door isn' gonna open. Why don't you head back to your cabin 'till we get these damned birds off the ship? Cook brought you some rum."

Sticky turned on him and roared. "DAMNED BIRDS!!!" One of the ostriches kicked out with its powerful, scaly legs and put a hole in the wall of the cargo hold. Sticky's emerald eyes spun in his head and he glared at the offending creature. "THAT IS MY SHIP YOU JUST KICKED!" Sticky lunged for its thin neck.

Scottie clamped his hand around a piece of the floor tracking that they used to load crated cargo, which had been stacked along the edge of the cargo holds floor, and swung it through the air. He caught the captain just behind his right ear and the lanky man dropped to the floor.

Scottie grabbed one of his Captain's thick boots and pulled him a safe distance from the pronged feet that were waiting to trample. Scottie hefted the captain up, got hold of him under his armpits and began walking backward, dragging him toward the doorway. Every time one of the giant birds made a move, Scottie froze, hoping to avoid its wrath. But he managed to get the captain out with little more than a slight pecking.

Once in the hallway, Scottie could hear turmoil from above and assumed that the escaped ostriches had made their way up on deck. He quickened his backward shuffle, dragging the captain along. Scottie's boot came down in something slick and he threw out his arm to gain balance, but it was too late. He crashed to the ground, sandwiching himself between Sticky and a warm pool of creamy white excrement. Scottie tried vainly to pull himself up, but his feet and hands slid in the viscous pool. Eventually, by means of pulling, shoving and sheer force of will, Scottie was able to get out from under the captain and out of the puddled droppings. Sticky groaned as he began to come to. Scottie gave him a good shake and got him on his feet, guiding him into his quarters and locking the door.

Cook poked his raw liver face out from the kitchen. "What's the noise?"

"Sticky was in with the birds, few got loose, but I took care of 'im."

Cook nodded. "Those things would make some mighty fine eats."

Scottie wrinkled his nose at his stained trousers. "They are just foul if you ask me."

Cook grunted and returned to the kitchen.

Scottie squelched through the crew's quarters to his trunk and rummaged for fresh clothes. The sooner they could be rid of this cargo, the better, as far as he was concerned. While he was busy changing, he could hear S'more and Finn ushering their wayward charges back to the hold.

Once on deck, Scottie made his rounds, checking ties and adjusting sails. Out on the darkening horizon, there was a cloud of smoke. He scurried up the rigging and perched beside Dylan. "What did I miss?"

Dylan gave him a bright grin. "That Italian beauty dropped out of nowhere and took out Russel's La Théière. She didn't stick around. We've got her and the Russians to beat."

Scottie nodded and slid back to the deck and into the navigation room. "Rick, get with Oscar and make a plan to get us movin'. We are gonna be at the next dock by dawn."

Rick gave a curt nod, his fingers tapping away on the communication system with Oscar.

The ship was sinking to dock just as the first pink glow lit the eastern sky. They were close behind the Italians, Rattling was slinking along in their wake and the Russians were setting the pace. Two cargos to go, and it was anyone's race.

Tune in next week to see what the next daring challenge will be!

Her father glanced in that direction, "I suppose that would be fine, but stay in the shade of those trees, no wandering off and exploring."

Katie sprinted through the crowd and found a place under the tree where she could easily see into the center of the band of richly painted wagons formed a circle just to the right of the registration office. The gypsies were sweeping in and out of their wagons. The women wore long colorful skirts that made jingling noises as the fabric swished around them as they walked. Most of the women wore their long dark hair loose down their back, and stacks of thin metal bracelets around their wrists. Several of the men were juggling or tuning instruments. Katie desperately wanted to know where they were traveling to next. Her father had taken her to one of the gypsy fairs a couple of years ago, and she had been dying to go again. They were only a short distance away from the shade, She could just slip up and ask them where their next shows were going to be, to see if they would be close to a port the ship would be stopping in. She was sure her father wouldn't object to that.

Katie tiptoed up to the edge of the nearest wagon. She noticed the front of these wagons was made of bars rather than being a little house like those on the other side of the circle. She peered into the dark interior. Slowly the form of a large cat resolved out of the shadows. He was sitting perfectly still in the back corner. Katie gasped and stood transfixed by the massive feline. He was solid black with pale green eyes that seemed to almost glow. He stood and slowly moved toward the front of his cage. His movements slow and fluid, as if he were made of some mysterious living liquid, or the shadows had suddenly come to life. He walked along the bars directly in front of Katie. He glided along the front of his cage toward the opposite corner.

Suddenly the opposite side of his cage creaked and light came flooding in. Katie's heart and feet froze, the cage was open, the beast that was so transfixingly beautiful a moment ago became a terrifying threat, and she could not pry her feet from the ground to run. The cat poured himself out of the opening and Katie's eyes slithered to the corner of the cage waiting for the huge cat to come around and devour her. She mentally screamed at her feet to get a move on, but they had taken root and wouldn't budge. She paused silently to hope that death by enormous cat would be quick and painless.

The cat glided around the corner rubbing his face on the edge of the wooden frame of his cage, bringing his front paws slightly off the ground as he petted himself. When he came into the light Katie let out a gasp, the cat was not solid black as she had originally thought, he actually had beautiful spotted markings all over his body that became visible only when he stepped into the light. Katie was so focused on the cat's every slinking movement that it took a few seconds for a couple of important facts to penetrate her fear. The cat was on a leash, and the leash was held by a very handsome gypsy boy. "Hello." his accent was only slight, but it made him sound thoroughly exotic. "I saw you looking at Juca."

Katie nodded, her relief over not currently being a cat snack made her feel light-headed, and her mouth had grown dusty and dry "He's amazing, is he safe?"

The gypsy boy laughed, flashing an easy smile that filled his dark eyes and made them sparkle, "Juca! He is so sweet we leave him to watch the babies when we are busy!" He scratched the cat between the ears, which the cat seemed to heartily encourage.

Katie relaxed a little seeing the cat look so contented, "May I pet him?"

The gypsy boy smiled again, "Yes," but just as she reached out he added, "but I must first give you a warning." She snatched her hand back fearing that there might be some spot that by touching would upset the animal. "If you start petting him, he might not let you stop, he can be very greedy." She laughed and reached out to scratch the cat between the ears as she had seen the boy do. The cat pressed his head up into her hand, tilting this way and that to help her fingers find angles that pleased him. "I am Mihas."

Katie smiled up at him, "I am Katie, my father's ship is loading cargo, I came to ask what cities your caravan is stopping in to see if we might be able to come to the gypsy fair."

Mihas looked surprised, "Are you often sent on such errands alone?"

Katie blushed and looked down to make sure she was petting Juca in a way that would keep her in his good favor, "No, I was waitin' for my father under those trees, he's in the line for registering some cargo, I saw the wagons and decided to ask by myself."

Mihas smiled and nodded, "We are getting on a train and going far north tomorrow. There will be no more shows for a while." Katie was heartbroken. She had already been planning ways to get to talk to Mihas again when she went to the gypsy fair, she looked back down at Juca, enjoying the sight of her fingers moving the beautiful spotted fur. "But if your father is in those awful lines then we have plenty of time! I will show you around." Excited by the idea of getting a tour of the gypsy camp from a real gypsy Katie snapped her head up and looked at Mihas, he was smiling hopefully at her. She wavered thinking about how she had promised her father she would stay under the trees. "I should go back to waitin' for my father. I'm s'posed to stay under those trees."

Mihas looked disappointed, but then he brightened, "What if we stay just over here by the animal cages, you can see the trees from here and we will watch for your father, and I can show you all of the animals!" Katie really wanted to see the animals, and if she kept a good eye out her father might not even notice that she had strayed, and she was sure he would understand when she told him what had happened.

Mihas showed her through all of the cages. One cage was full of little monkeys. Mihas gave Katie some pieces of fruit, and they ran up and took them right out of her hand. Katie was so amused by their antics that she asked Mihas if they could let them out. "No, I don't think that would be good."

Katie's shoulders drooped, "Oh, will they run away?"

A battle between amusement and embarrassment waged across Mihas' face, "no, they will stay close, but...well..."embarrassment looked like it might win the war. He looked at the ground, "people have things in their pockets..."

The meaning of what he was saying struck Katie, "OH!"

Amusement staged a coup, and he and Katie laughed together.

Mihas called one of the gypsy men over and asked him if he could go get Meschin so they could introduce her to Katie. Meschin turned out to be a massive snake. Katie didn't want anything to do with her at first, but after Mihas assured her that Meschin was harmless, and even draped the snake over his own shoulders, Katie drew close enough to hesitantly stroke her cool soft scales. Katie watched the powerful muscles ripple as she moved. Next they stood and watched a fat bear sitting in the center of one cage munching on a large melon.

Mihas showed her an enormous toad, he said that there were crazy stories going around about talking frog people coming up out of the ground and attacking cities, Mihas said they dressed up the big toad in baby clothes and told the people who came that it was one of them. He said it was one of the most popular things in the show. Katie laughed at the thought of this funny creature with its bulging eyes and wide mouth dressed up as a little baby!

Several of the cages were empty and Mihas explained that they had set up a camp just on the other side of the trees in a clearing and many of the animals were there grazing. He told her about the huge elephant with the sweetest little pink spots on her ears, and how she is so gentle you can climb right up on her back and ride her! He said they also had several ponies that his sister and cousin could ride standing up and do all kinds of amazing tricks. Katie desperately wanted to see the gypsy camp, but it had been almost an hour and she was sure that her father would be done soon.

They went back to the shade under the trees to see if her father was there yet, but they didn't see him. Clouds had rolled in and there was a comfortable wind that made the sun inviting, but the shadows beneath the trees were now cool and dreary. Mihas told her it was only a few minutes to the camp and they could run, take a quick peek, and be back just like a flash of lightening. Katie didn't want to miss seeing all the things that Mihas had described, so off they went running through a little break of trees.

Out they popped into a little clearing and Katie felt as though she had been transported to a magical world! Huge sheets of fabric of the most vibrant colors, deep emerald greens, and dark crimson red, fiery oranges and cobalt blues, hung in the trees! She felt as though she had stepped right into a rainbow, there was a flurry of activity all around them. The gypsies in their bright colored clothing were in constant motion, like butterflies flitting in a wonderful garden. Busy looking one way and another Katie bumped right into a gypsy man and to her surprise he sputtered and produced a great plume of fire from his lips! Katie shrieked and grabbed hold of Mihas, then realizing that she was holding onto a very cute, very nice gypsy boy with friendly dark eyes and adorable shaggy dark curls, she blushed and leapt away, right back into the gypsy man, who again belched a cloud of flame. Mihas just laughed at her distress, "Katie, meet Rica, he is a fire breather." Katie nodded to him and stuttered out a, "Nice to meet you." Everywhere she turned there was something to take in. Men were walking on tall stilts, some of them had stilts on their arms and legs and were galloping or trying to do acrobatics. Some of them managed amazing stunts, others would come crashing down in an awkward pile of stilts akimbo, then there would be a great PHFIT sound and a puff of steam and they would spring into the air, just like the dried corn kernels the balloon men popped near the heaters for snacks! Then the stilt walkers would be up and running and trying their tricks all over again.

A vast net hung suspended a few feet above the ground. Above that a gypsy couple in dazzling costumes swung back and forth sitting on tiny bars. A flash of movement, and they flipped so they were hanging by their legs, Katie had a queasy moment thinking about her own moment of hanging upside down last night and wanted to close her eyes. She was sure they would fall but they just kept on swinging. The woman flipped again and was hanging by her hands, they swung closer and closer matching each other until they were in perfect unison. All at once, the woman's hands slipped and she went flying through the air. Katie covered her eyes not wanting to see the woman fall. Mihas tapped Katie's shoulder and she peeped out at him. He was laughing and pointing at the swings. Appalled, Katie looked. The man had caught the woman by her wrists and she was dangling below him as they swung back and forth, going higher on each return. Finally, on an upswing just when Katie thought they couldn't get any higher, they released hands and the woman flipped in the air and caught her swing again. Katie shook her head in awe, "Nothing here is what it seems!" Mihas just laughed and pulled her on.

He showed her the ponies, and they watched his sister and cousins do amazing stunts, Katie laughed when they did hand-stands on their ponies, and she held her breath when they jumped from pony to pony as the mounts ran in faster and faster circles.

Mihas introduced her to Dulce, the elephant. She stroked her soft skin, transfixed by the intelligence in those big dark eyes rimmed with long dark lashes. He helped Katie up and showed her how to tuck her bare feet right behind Dulce's ears. He sat pressed behind her and talked her through the commands to make the elephant go wherever Katie wanted.

A gypsy woman called out to Mihas. She was wearing a long flowing skirt like the other women. Hers was of deep blue and her white top and the silver chains that looped around her hips with a million little hammered silver discs dangling and jingling from it contrasted with her dark hair and complexion. Her figure was slim and her face seemed so young that Katie's eyebrows arched with surprise when Mihas explained that she was his mother. He helped Katie down from the back of the elephant and solemnly introduced her to his mother. Up close Katie could see that she was not as young as she had originally thought, and when she smiled and her eyes lit up, Katie instantly saw the resemblance between mother and son. "Mama this is Katie, Katie, this is my mother, Afina."

Afina smiled her warm smile at Katie and tucked Mihas under her arm, "Any guest of Mihas' is welcome!" Her voice was deep and more heavily accented than Mihas', "It gets chilly out here, come have cups of tea." She swept them along toward the edge of the clearing. They reached the edge, and she moved aside a length of heavy fabric dyed a deep sunny yellow. Warm, heavily scented air rushed out from between the layers and Katie shook her head in amazement, nothing in the gypsy camp was at all what it seemed! What she had thought were mere sheets of fabric hung in the trees to add some privacy to the clearing were, in fact, large tents created by hanging the heavy fabric in such a way that the trees formed the supports. Inside it was blissfully cozy. The floor had thick pillows dyed in the deepest jewel tones and covered in intricate embroidery. She soon learned that they were full of straw that would pass on to the animals to bed in. In the center was a fire, the smoke was wafting up through a gap in the roof, and the wood they were burning had a spicy scent. Over the fire was a large cast iron spider with an old teapot whistling away on top.

Mihas handed Katie a small flat disc. She politely held it while he and Afina prepared the tea. Afina leaned toward Katie with the teapot ready to pour. Katie sat there helplessly trying to figure out what she should be doing. Afina laughed a deep, velvety laugh, and Mihas reached over and gently plucked the disc from Katie's hands. He lifted a windup key gently away from the side and slowly turned it. With each turn, the disc expanded up into a pretty little teacup. When he finished he handed her back the cup and Afina poured the tea.

The three of them sat and sipped the sweet tea and the gypsies told her fascinating stories about the places they had been and the things they had seen. Often other gypsies would stop in with bits of news or gossip and Mihas would politely introduce Katie. They all offered her warm words of welcome.

As Katie's third cup of tea was growing cold Afina asked her where she had come from and just as if a spell were being broken Katie realized how much time had passed. She knew that her father must be looking for her and, in fact, the ship should have left dock hours ago. If they are out looking for her instead of having taken to the air, then the cargo was already late! Katie gasped and with a few rushed apologies and thank you's she pushed her way out of the tent! It had gotten dark since she had entered the tent and the clouds that had made the afternoon cool and comfortable were now spitting the first drops of rain. The clearing bustled with activity, torches had been placed around the edge, making the faces and objects look distorted and eerie.

Katie rushed across the clearing to the path through the woods. The path was completely dark now, and she stumbled over roots and rocks. All she could think of was her father. How angry and disappointed he would be when she got back to the ship. She couldn't stand the thought of letting even a second pass without trying to get to him. She sped through the woods.

She could hear it when the deluge began. The first burst of drops hit the treetops with a roar. She wasn't sure if this was the right path anymore and tried to adjust her course while still rushing on. The rain was making its way through the canopy of leaves now and the layer of leaves on the ground was slick under her feet. She slipped and fell and bashed her knee on a rock. She pulled herself upright and limped on. She could feel the blood dripping down her leg and soon it was mixing with the water from the storm. The forest lit up with a bright flash that etched the silhouette of trees on her retinas, and a moment later thunder shook more drops from the trees.

Katie knew now that she had been running for too long, if she were on the right path she should be out of the woods by now. She knew that she was lost in a small patch of woods and was probably running in circles. She couldn't bring herself to stop, stopping would mean further disappointing her father, and she couldn't bear that along with the shame she was already feeling.

Her knee ached, her clothes were heavy with water and long strands of dark hair that had escaped from her braids were clinging to her face and arms. Lightning flashed again and in almost the same instant the boom of thunder shook the air. The rain and wind was a deafening roar in her ears and yet some small sound reached her to tell her she wasn't alone. Her brain flashed to Juca, not the friendly beast whose ears she had scratched, but the creature of liquid motion that she had seen slink from the cage, and in that moment she felt like prey.

She willed herself on, through the fiery pain in her knee, she made herself move faster. She could feel something behind her and she pushed herself to add speed, but the pain in her knee wouldn't allow her to pump her legs any faster. The demon behind her caught her arm and spun her around. She clawed and fought until her arms were pinned. A soft voice whispered soothing sounds in her ear, so similar to the ones that she had issued to the tangled seagull, that her heart slowed and she was able to think more clearly. She looked up and saw that it was Rica, the fire breather, that had caught her.

I hope you guys enjoy the first look at Katie Kensley Gets Grounded, we will pick up with Scottie and the rest of the crew next week.

Phaedra

The air rushing past Scottie's face shot his sandy blond hair straight up off his forehead like he'd received an electric shock. The Dread Ship Shirley was rushing nose first toward the ground like she had spotted her lost lover. Her engine's roar made the deck quiver in anticipation as they pushed her forward. Scottie's stomach ran in nervous circles and his mouth filled with sour, bile-laced saliva. He wanted to look away from the ever-growing ground, but his eyelids knew they could not save him from this kind of horror and would not close. In his mind, he begged the ship to stop, sure it was too late for them to stop, sure that they had teased destiny one time too many and now she was going to punish them.

The moment of impact was upon them. Scottie could not decide if he considered himself blessed for having had the chance to live as a skyman, or if he was finally paying the price for indulging in the absurdity of spending his days floating around in a bucket of wood and canvas, thumbing his nose at gravity and calling "neener-neener!" to the laws of physics. The ship let out a small creak and then there was a terrific, bone-shattering, head-splitting, ear-popping BOOM!

The Dread Ship Shirley leapt back from the ground as if she had reached her lover, only, in the moment before they embraced, to suddenly remember that she had caught him cheating on her. With her sister. The night before their wedding. While he was wearing a chicken suit. And eating baby kittens.

It was a hell of a leap back. Unprepared for such a turn of events, Scottie lost his footing on the yardarm and swung out into the air. He clung to the sail ties, dangling out into the wide-open air as the balloon heaters hissed like a pit of starving snakes, watching the teetering steps of a lone mouse. The ship leveled herself and floated softly to the earth. They were the first to arrive at the checkpoint to pick up the first cargo. The gathered audience stood in shocked silence. Scottie hung, slightly dazed, beside the slack sails. He looked out over the many staring eyes and gave a jaunty little wave. The audience broke into deafening cheers! So focused was everyone on the death defying landing of the Dread Ship Shirley that they never noticed the small utilitarian ship that had broken out of its dive in a timely fashion and came down to the dock in a tidy and quite ordinary landing.

Scottie quickly lowered himself to the deck. Cook was curled around the base of the mast; his eyes squeezed shut so tight that his face looked like a pack of bacon strips before it has been set out to thaw. Scottie poked Cook's large rump with the toe of his boot. Cook pried apart two of the slices of bacon to peek up at him with his small beady eyes. "Are we dead?"

Scottie shook his head. "Don't think so."

Cook released the mast and sat up, his legs splayed out before him like roast lamb shank ready for the spit. "What the hell happened?"

Oscar, the ships engine master and resident inventor extraordinaire, popped his small birdlike head out from the hatch. His top hat sat askew and the lenses that stood out from it on hinged arms were all standing up in an oddly peacock-like manner. "Is everyone alright?"

Scottie's eyes darted around, taking in a quick evaluation of the crew. S'more was sitting, looking stunned, behind the huge air cannon at the front of the ship. The twins were sliding down the rigging from their perches in the crows' nests. Rick and Finn were emerging from the navigation room and Sticky was strolling toward them in his big black boots. Scottie nodded. "All accounted for. What happened?"

Oscar's thin, pale lips parted in an uncharacteristic grin. "Spun the engines round the wrong way at the last minute, just as S'more gave the ground a blast from that cannon I fixed up. Popped us back like a cork."

Cook shoved his great haggis of a form up onto his sirloin feet. "We might'a landed first, but if we don't stop lollygaggin' we aren't gonna keep ahead. Better go get the first cargo loaded an' find out where we're goin'."

As if to punctuate his point, the Garuda set herself daintily beside them. Her bat-like fairy wings stretched out to her sides. Rick eyed the landing ship suspiciously. "How the hell did they get here so fast?"

Edwin shook his head, frowning. "Dunno. Bet I can think of a way to keep it from happenin' again."

Scottie, Sticky, Rick, and the twins stepped off the ship, leaving the rest of the crew to guard her against sabotage. Rattling paced out of his open cargo hold, sauntering with a cocky assurance that was somewhat undermined by the blotched appearance of his face. His ragtag team of genetically challenged skymen lingered behind him, many of them covered with blisters as well. Normally, with his face scrunched and marred with scars, Rattling wasn't much to look at, but it was all made grotesquely worse by bright, shiny, red blisters that pulled his mouth into a strange sneer and closed off his right eye.

Sticky gave him a handsome grin, looking the opposing captain over with his bright emerald eyes. "That pox we were discussing has spread, I see."

Rattling gave a disgusted snort. "No points for bein' pretty. Least I managed to land me ship properly."

Rick glared at the little captain. "No points for bein' slow either. If you had been here as early as we were, you might have had time to arrive with some style."

Scottie glanced around and noticed that Edwin had slipped away. Scottie had a pretty good idea where the freckled fiend had made off to. He figured it was best to keep Rattling distracted until the redheaded miscreant returned. "Come on, Ricky, look at his ship! Ratty wouldn't know style if it walked up and kissed his ugly mug."

Rattling's one good eye narrowed into a hate-weeping slit. Rick shook his head. "Style would never go near a puss pocket like old Ratty, so we haven't got a thing to worry about when it comes to bein' shown up by the likes of his shabby little crew. Did you manage to pick up those fellows we dumped back at the start for you, Ratty?"

Rattling's crew shuffled forward threateningly, but their captain made a small movement with his gnarled hand that stopped them.

Sticky shook his dark, curly head mournfully. "It's a shame when a captain can't even stop a contracted crew from tryin' to stow away, so they can fly on a decent ship."

Beneath the blisters, Rattling's face grew a darker red. "Shame when a man that calls 'imself a captain can't even get a decent crew to man 'is ship an' has to bargain with the devil for the castoffs of hell just to find a group that will work with 'im and 'is broken down balloon-dangler."

Scottie looked around to see if they had bought Edwin sufficient time and then he scanned the sky. Off in the distance, he noted the unmistakable, long silhouette of Russel's La Théière. Scottie gave Rattling a knowing smirk. "How did your attack on Russel's darling go?"

Rattling left off his bickering with Sticky to spit a long stream of rank brown sputum in Scottie's direction. "Russel is a ponce. That ship is wasted on him."

Dylan's freckled face split into a wide grin. "Nasty burns on your face. Did you have a boiler accident, or were you attacked by a little teapot?"

Rattling's face glowed with fury but before he could respond, they were interrupted by Cook's voice shouting down at them. "YOU STUPID IDIOTS, GO GET THE BLOOMING CARGO! THAT DAMN RUSSIAN SPEED DEMON IS ALREADY GONE AND YOU ARE CHITTER-CHATTING WITH A WORTHLESS LITTLE RAT!"

Scottie glanced over to where the small, high-flying ship with the be-hatted crew had been and saw that Cook was right. While they were busy trading barbs with Rattling, the untouchable, forgettable little ship was beating their pants off.

Rattling had also looked to the empty space where the Russian ship had been. Rattling's dark slit of vision swiveled back and met the great glowing green orbs that glittered out of Sticky's dark stubble. They both stood still as statues for a moment, eyes locked, then both captains and their crew were running toward the cargo location.

The cargo was being kept in a large structure several yards away. Each crew was rushing forward while using every available means to beat back their opponents. Scottie flung out his elbow and felt it cave in the fragile bones of a competitor's nose. Blood splattered across the dusty dirt and the man swore but didn't stop running. Another man jumped onto Scottie's back, wrapping his arms around his neck and squeezing tight. Scottie leaned forward, using the extra weight as added momentum and charged through the brawling mass.

Scottie's piggybacker was crushing his windpipe, making his breathing labored and painful. Scottie dropped his head closer to the ground, bending farther forward. He threw his hands out in front of him, palms to the ground and threw himself into a somersault. He heard the hollow clonk of the other man's head hitting the hard-packed earth and then Scottie's body came to a halt, landing heavily enough on the other man to produce a great gust as the wind was knocked out of him. The hold on his neck was released and Scottie rolled to his feet, narrowly avoiding the kicks that were sent toward his ribs.

Sticky and Rattling were pummeling each other and Rick was pounding in the bloody face of one of Rattling's crew. Two previously pummeled bodies laid bleeding at his feet. Since Scottie couldn't see him anywhere else, he assumed that Dylan was somewhere in the dust cloud that was rolling about on the fringes of the fray.

Scottie moved up behind Rattling as he fought with the captain, preparing to knock the opposing captain over the head. Before he had the chance, Sticky landed a clean punch to Ratty's blistered-over eye and clear fluid sprayed back, glittering in Stickywicket's dark scruff. Rattling screamed in pain and dropped to his knees, clutching at his face. The Captain's pure, leafy eyes gleamed at Scottie and his full lips curled into a friendly smile. "Never did like him much." Sticky brought his knee up and bashed Rattling's hands farther into his face, crumpling him into an unconscious puddle.

With one stride of his long legs, Sticky was over Rattling, stepping up to Scottie's side. Rick and Dylan were both catching their breath among the beaten and bloody. The four of them made their way to the large building to collect their cargo.

As they were reaching the door, the sleek Italian ship, Del Diavolo Fanciulla was gracefully dropping into the arena, closely followed by Russel's La Théière. Scottie noticed that the long French ship was badly damaged. Her delicate filigree railing was mangled and dangling off her starboard side and her mast was sitting just a little crooked.

The captain reached for the door with his long, spidery fingers and yanked open the large barn doors. A wave of dry, foul air hit them from the dark confines. Inside, there was the rustling of movement. It took a few seconds for Scottie's eyes to adjust enough that he could make out the large ruffled bodies, long necks, small glinting eyes, and sharp beaks. Just as the mass of feathered bodies was registering in his mind as ostriches, there was a horrible shrieking. Long arms wound themselves around his body like a straightjacket. Long, spidery fingers crept through his sandy hair and took root any place they could find a hold, whether it be ear or nostril. His waist was clamped by winding legs and thick boots dug into him as his captain attempted to both climb and meld with his body. Scottie staggered under the weight of his squawking captain.

Tune in next week when Sticky faces his greatest fear and the first leg of the race comes to an end.

The roar of engines clattering to life rattled the bones of the docks as the ships rose into the air, starting the race. Scottie dangled from the rigging with bated breath and eyes constantly on the move, watching the competition. All eyes were on Baron Von Bosewicht's German ringer as it leapt into the air and began a series of efficiently nimble maneuvers. It was quick on its wings and lifted with ease into the smoggy blue of the summer morning. It was a race tradition that each ship gave the gathered audience a preview of why this was the most dangerous race in the world. Each ship would feed the gathered bloodlust of the masses by flexing its weaponry, giving them a glimpse of the brutal warfare that would be taking place in their skies over the next few weeks by all converging on the best ship money and precision could build and destroying it utterly.

Somehow, even with the deafening clanks, huffs and twapitty whirs of the ships, Scottie could hear the intake before the crowd collectively held its breath. As the six ships floated skyward, all eyes were watching the doomed vessel. So transfixed were they that they missed the most impressive display of the entire race. With nary a "foop," the little drudge of Russian ingenuity that everyone had given a half look and then forgotten shot into the sky and disappeared.

Scottie kept his vigil in the ropes, watching the action, while S'more sat in his position at the Dread Ship Shirley's massive air cannon. Scottie listened as it hummed softly, sucking in its ammunition, and noted the extra little fizz that now accompanied the initial warming up of the ship’s weaponry.

On the battlefield, the little German ship nervously dodged and darted, anticipating an attack from any angle. A loud crack sounded from the ingenious little ship and a whiz of sparks shot skyward from its decks, ending in a puff of purple crackling splendor. A series of ominous pops and screams followed and Scottie found himself with the best seat in the house for a stunning display of fireworks. Bright streaks of spiraling white shot from the deck of the German ship to dance with the explosions of red, blue and green. Scottie glanced at the twins who were rolling with laughter in the crows’ nests. "Where'd ya get those?" He called out.

Dylan and Edwin put on serious masks, and then Dylan hollered back. "You know very well Rattling keeps a store of the whizbangers for when he wins!"

Edwin nodded. "Since were gonna beat 'im, we thought it our civic duty to make sure the people got a show anyhow!"

The La Théière flitted up just a hint above the pyrotechnic display on the ship’s deck and a shrill screech sliced through the air as a spurt of steam shot from the long French ship’s bow and encased the German machine. Scottie rolled his eyes. Captain Russel never could come up with a new trick. His blast of hot steam could be an effective weapon, and it provided enough cover to make an escape, which was when the gazelle-like ship really showed skill. But once you understood the dynamics of La Théière's boiler exhaust-based cannon, the real damage was to the crew’s morale when they realized that they had been farted on by a complete idiot.

Russel got his ship spun around for her quick escape when he surprised everyone. Out of her stern popped a burst of confetti and she sped away, making an attempt to speed under the other ships. On board the Baron's Sure Thing, the crew started running around like crazed squirrels. Scottie watched, confused, as two of the men on board leapt overboard and fell flailing to the ground with a sickening crunch.

The long French ship was sneaking under The Garuda when Rattling's men rapelled over the edge of their winged junk and invaded, swords flashing steely cold in the filtered sunlight.

The sleek and beautiful Del Diavolo Fanciulla rose above the Baron's poor little half-crewed martyr and rained down a fine shower of dark specks. The results were instantaneous. The balloons were shredded and hot air bellowed out. In the same moment, S'more let loose a crack of lightning that made a crooked streak of incandescence through the sooty haze and hit the hull of the tidy little sacrifice, splintering her boards open like a piñata. The air cannon barked a great WOOF, sending a wrecking ball of solid air after the lightning. The spinning wreckage shrunk as the Dread Ship Shirley was shot away by the force of her own cannon.

Scottie closed his eyes and let his stomach catch up to the barreling ship. He kept his senses honed, waiting for the right moment to catch the wind. His eyes snapped open and the rope spun through his heavily gloved hands and the white canvas filled with wind, popping outward like pregnant sheep. He sped through his work, making constant adjustments to the sails to aid the new engines Oscar had built. All the while he kept his eyes roving the sky, leaning out to check above and below. The ship was alive with movement. Up at the heaters, the twins were in constant communication, flashing their colored paddles. S'more, Captain Sticky and Cook were working in rounds with Scottie, so eyes were everywhere. As Scottie passed the door to the navigation room, he gave a quick "Clear!" and heard the assurance echoed back, along with the chatter of clicks that made up their communication with Oscar, which kept the ship's steering and engines in sync.

"PORT!" Cook's charbroiled voice shouted.

Scottie's feet pounded over the boards and he saw the long shadow of Russel's La Théière gliding closer. Scottie’s mind whirled. The last they had seen her, she was being boarded by Rattling’s crew, so they could be dealing with anyone running her now! S'more's thick bare feet stomped from cannon to cannon as he started them warming.

Scottie swung into the rigging, pulling free the ties and gathering them in his hands. He held them taut, ready to make any adjustment necessary at a moment’s notice. The French ship was speeding closer, rising up from a slightly lower altitude. From this angle it would be hard for them to use their air cannons, but the smaller lightning guns would have better range. S'more was lining up his shot when an explosion of bright bits of paper filled the air and fluttered all around them.

Scottie's eyes burned. The itching was so terrible his hands trembled as he fought the urge to release the ropes and claw at his eyes. Tears streamed down his face. The skin in his nostrils began to crawl like a hill of fire ants. His throat seared like he had just made out with a fire-breathing aardvark. His mind went blurry. All he could think about was getting away from the terrible itching. Holding the ropes didn't seem important anymore. Scottie gathered all his willpower and held firm to the ropes.

On deck, Sticky was yelling something that sounded like "snows late for hair famines!" over and over.

Scottie was so distracted by this strange mantra that his mind cleared for a moment and he was able to regain the sail ties just before the hurfing boom of the air cannons. The ball of air whiffed past him, bellowing the sails like a godly belch. He threw himself forward off his footing on the yardarms so that the sails could fly out horizontally and catch as much of the cannon-generated wind as possible. The ship buoyed upward like a salted peanut in beer. Scottie hung for a moment, dangling by the rope, lifted by the full sail, then gravity snatched at him and he swung back at the yardarm in a slow arc. The engine's rattling sped to a low, rumbling whine as it helped the ship higher. Scottie’s eardrums felt as though they were going to pop and the air snapped from the gentle heat of a summer day to a crisp chill.

He hit the yardarm with a bone-jarring thwump. With his free arm, Scottie grabbed the pole and searched with his toe for footing. Wind howled around him like a wild dog and he fought to latch the sails as its cold wet nose snuffled through his clothing.

The air was thin this high and Scottie had to drag breath in to keep from being lightheaded. His skin rose into goosebumps and he shivered as the cold air seeped through his clothes. They were moving fast with the higher air currents. Scottie dropped onto the deck and ducked his head low toward his shoulders, trying to keep the cold from sneaking down his shirt collar.

Cook's southern fried steak of a face rose out of the hatch. He was smothered under a thick gravy of jackets. He tossed Scottie a parka that hadn't been seen since that time they had to detour over the arctic. "Put it on an' take these up t' da twinkle twins."

Scottie slid his arms into the thick coat and hoisted the heavy jackets meant for Dylan and Edwin over his shoulder. He sucked in a couple of skimpily oxygenated breaths and made his way up to the crow’s nest.

Dylan was hunkered close to his heaters. "I hope there's a nip in the pocket."

Scottie looked out over the view as he passed him the heavy coat. "Can't say much for the atmosphere, but the view is lovely."

Dylan scowled at him as he threaded his lanky arms through the coat sleeves. "Enjoy it while it lasts, we can't keep the air hot for long up here. Flame's dyin'!"

After delivering the second coat, Scottie worked his way down, stopping occasionally to catch his breath. He paused, trying to get a good lungfull when he noticed a strange shadow moving in the distance. He watched it closely for a few minutes and then it dawned on him what he was looking at. The little utilitarian floater crawling with men in thick coats and fur hats was speeding along a good distance off their starboard side. Scottie dropped out of the rigging and delivered the observation to Sticky and Cook.

They tried veering toward the small, fast cruising ship to get within combat range, but the little ballooner only rose higher out of their reach and they were forced to retreat in order to avoid attacks from above. They raced on playing a game of cat and mouse, the Dread Ship Shirley making attempts to get close enough to strike and the little ship rising out of their reach. Soon, it came down to endurance. Scottie couldn't tell whether the crew of the opposing kite was struggling in the high altitude, but he could tell his crew members were feeling the strain. Everyone had grown quiet, focusing their light, spinning heads on the work at hand. The engines were struggling at a high whine to keep the ship moving and the heaters were fighting to keep their flames from snuffing.

The ships moved swiftly, wearily coasting side by side at a safe distance. Finally, Finn flashed a green paddle out the door of the navigation room and the ship began to drop. Scottie sighed with relief and went to work preparing for descent. He tugged in the sails, setting them at the proper angle. Cook shouted from below him and he looked down, trying to make out the words that accompanied the wild waving of his drumstick arms. Then he saw what the commotion was about. Their opponent was dropping like a stone, wings tucked in, balloons depleted. The ship was swan diving toward the ground.

The whole crew sprung into action, and the Dread Ship Shirley followed her adversary at a spleen-crushing speed. The wind screamed like a deranged cougar as it blew past Scottie's popping ears. The small ship had the advantage, having begun its dive before them, but suddenly the engines joined the howling as they pushed them closer to the swelling earth.

The little ship blinked past them as they overtook it. The landscape was growing in ever sharpening detail as it jumped up to meet them. Scottie cringed, ready for the impact.

Tune in next week when the race continues with or without the crew!