All it would take, Mercy anxiously believed, was one round that entered the cabin and proceeded farther, up into the hydrogen tanks above. One round, and it was over; all of them were burning, and the ship was falling. One round would change everything with its precision, or its blind chance.
Underneath them, Ernie was swinging above the earth, hanging from his hands and firing up lanterns to show the Confederacy that this transport was not intended for target practice, but at the same time drawing the attention and fire of anyone within range.
Mercy lifted her head and asked the captain, Sir, are we behind southern lines?
I think so, he told her without looking at her. Its hard to tell down there. Very hard to tell. And if the Union has any antiaircraft power on its side, it might not matter. We might still be in range. Goddammit, Ernest, he said with a growl.
As if in reply, three sharp raps banged against the outer hull-not shots, but knocks from a human fist.
Gordon Rand asked, What does that mean?
The captain answered, That hes done and coming back, I assume. Robert, poke your head out and see if you can help him.
You think he needs help? The second crewman fidgeted over by the ladder.
Three raps might mean help, or hurry, or go to hell, for all I know. Just check!
Robert attempted to follow orders, scaling the ladder not quite so smoothly as Ernie. He reached the top just in time to hear another spray of fire, a wildcats yowl of tearing sheet metal. What was that? he demanded. No one answered him.
Everyone knew exactly as much as he did-that theyd been hit again, though heaven knew where or how badly. And then the captain knew, and probably the first mate also, for both of them made unhappy noises and yanked at the controls. Finally the first mate wanted to know, What have we lost? and the captain said back, One of the rudders. Lets just pray were over our own lines now, because theres no way were doing anymore turning, unless its in circles.
Above her head and to the right, Mercy heard Robert call, Ernie! Where you at? You need a hand?
Mercy joined the rest of the passengers in listening, perched on the very edge of their seats, breathing shallowly while waiting for a response. None came.
Robert called again: Ernie? You out there? His phrasing raised the possibility that he wasnt out there, that hed fallen or been picked off by the puncturing line of fire.
But then, to everyones relief, they heard the faint scrape of boots against steel, and Ernie called back, Im still here. Hold on. Then they all heard more scuttling. Getting down is easier than getting up.
When Robert helped pull him back inside, everyone could see precisely why. His left hand was covered in blood, and the sailor-turned-dirigible-crewman was as pale as death in the unlit cabin. He announced, One of the lanterns busted in my hand while I was trying to hang it. But the other two are up and holding. I placed em by the civilian end of the sign. Thats where the CSA logo is tamped on, anyway. Hopefully theyll see it all right.
It mightve worked, Gordon Rand posited. No ones shooting at us. Not right this second.
The first mate said, Maybe someones planning to make the next shot count. Or maybe they cant see the paint job yet and theyre trying to get a good look.
Rand added,
Or perhaps theyre slow readers.
Mercy was out of her chair now, invigorated by the prospect of having something to do. She told Ernie, Come sit over here, by me. And give me your hand.
He joined her at her seat and sat patiently while she rummaged through her sack.
Everybody hang on to something. Were losing altitude, the first mate announced.
The captain amended the announcement to include, Were going down, but we arent crashing . Brace yourselves as you can, but I repeat, we are not crashing . The steerings all but gone out, thats all, so I can raise or lower us, but not point us in any direction.
Are we behind southern lines? someone other than Mercy asked, but she didnt see whod raised the question again.
Yes, the captains tone of certainty was an outright lie, but he stuck to it. Were just setting down, but we might take a tree or two with us. Estimated time to landing, maybe two or three minutes-Ive got to take her down swift, because were drifting back the other way.
Oh, God, said the old lady.
Dont holler for him yet, Mercy muttered. It might not be as bad as all that. Ernie, let me see your hand.
Weve only got a couple of minutes-
I only need a couple of minutes. Now hold still and let me look. By then, shed found her bandage rolls. She tore off a portion of one, and used it to wipe the area clear enough to see it better. It wasnt all cuts, and it wasnt all burns. In the very dim light that squeezed in through the windows, she could see it was a blending of both. Mercy wouldve bet against him ever having proper use of his mangled index finger again; but the wound wouldnt be a killing one unless it took to festering.
How bad is it? he asked her, both too nervous too look, and too nervous to look away. He blinked, holding his head away so he couldnt be accused of watching.