Chapter 5: Knight in a plane
The difference in emotion between father and son had rarely been more stark in the Jacoby household. The older Jacoby sat glumly by the fire wondering what it would take to ever be rid of Granny Plum, that dastardly old coot back in his space again not two hours after she had him grabbed by the throat. Now she was busy rooting through his maps, covering tables and floors with them - even pinning some to his wall with an unnerving collection of knives that kept emerging from her handbag - while she hunted for something or other that he hadn’t been paying attention too.
But Jack Jacoby was in an entirely different headspace. After all, he had a real live genuine Knight of the New Franklin Wingcore stood inside his dwelling. Just wait till he told his schoolmates! He’d idiolised the wingcore since for ever long he could remember. Watching them loop and sore around the habitat while he was either stuck on his dad’s crappy airship or, even worse, at school. And it had been Granny of all people to bring this hero of the sky, just like it was normal to appear at their door and demand to look at his father’s maps. Jack managed to peel his eyes away from the knight, Graham (Jack’s heart fluttered at the realisation he was on first name terms) and looked at Granny. During the course of about 24 hours he’d been puzzled by the old woman drone pilot, scared of her, outright terrified of her, disliked her then something almost like fondness, before back to dislike after she threatened his dad. But what feeling was it now? Confusion? Awe?
“I got brocolli in my teeth or somet kid?” Granny had spotted him looking at her
“What, er, no, er, maam”
“Then quit staring. Go prod your father, see if he’s got anything worth drinking in this dump” then back to Graham “So you see, we travel over Bedford about three times a year…”
“I will petition the Steering Committee to rename it Princesstown in honour of my bride to be” Graham interrupted staring intently at the wall, as if by looking close enough he’d be able to make out a garish pink dress in between the roads laid out on the map.
Granny ignored him “....then we swing east over Cambridge, which isn’t there anymore after a haemorrhage, before heading back north. Never any further south, never any nearer to London” and with this she tapped exaggeratedly at the former capital city on the map. “Do you see what I’m getting at?”
The silence in the room told her that no, it’s other occupants did not. Granny rested her knuckles on the table in front of the pinned up maps, bowed her head in exasperation.
“They’re hiding something from us” she said after a while “the Steering Committee, there’s something in London they don’t want us to see”
“Like what?” Jack had come to look at the map, at the dotted lines his dad had diligently drawn over them, charting the lonely path of New Franklin across the ruined country. “I mean it could be something bad”
“The Princess said it was worth seeing” although Granny realised that this was tenuous logic
Graham, on the other hand was more certain “The Princess has uttered a prophecy? Is that so?! You must tell me more old lady” and with this he placed his hands on Granny’s shoulders, who quickly shrugged him off in disgust and turning to look across the cramped room at Jacoby.
“We ain’t going to London” the older Jacoby spoke up for the first time since Granny had barged into his dwelling “My airship needs repairing, but even if it didn’t it wouldn’t make it to London and back, not now we’re making the turn east” he nodded at a compass he’d had mounted on a squat pedestal in the corner near Granny.
“What about Graham’s plane?” Jack jumped in eagerly
The knight of the wingcore looked a little uncertain “It, er, only has, er two seats”
“Fine my me” Jacoby had stood “Keep me and Jack out of your harebrained plan Granny”
“Awwwww” the younger boy protested, chance of glory slipping away.
“Me and you then Mr Fancypants” Granny said to Graham, who still looked unsure
“Well, it’s just that my second seat is, well, that’s usually where Tullow sits”
“Who’s Tullow?”
“My, er, co pilot, er, slash, er instructor” Graham squirmed
“Your instructor? You mean you don’t even fly the bloody thing?” Granny rested her hands on her hips, head to one side
“I know the, er, basics, but, you, know, there’s lots of complicated, er, charts and, knobs and stuff to get your head round” Graham looked around forlornly for support. Granny looked angry, Jacoby confused and Jack crestfallen. “But I can get us to London and back. It is the prophecy after all”
Granny whistled through her teeth and shook her head. This berk was her best, nay only, chance of working out what the hell was going on. With the added advantage of getting one over on Faulks. “Ok” she said “Tomorrow, dawn. I’ll meet you at the hangers”
Graham brightened a little “A deal. For the Princess!” he attempted to raise his mug of lukewarm tea for a toast, but no one joined him.
“Just don’t tell your father. Not yet” Granny instructed, brightening herself at the prospect of stealing away with Faulks’ own son while the aged administrator attempted to track her down over unpaid fines.
“A clandestine operation to investigate a lost city and rescue the Princess, go it!”
Granny sighed, “Still want to join the aircore kid?” she asked Jack, nodding at the idot Graham
“Maybe the family scrounging business doesn’t look that bad after all” the young man replied straight faced.
Granny smirked, then headed to the door. “Dawn” she said to Graham “Don’t be late” and with a swish of her tweed coat she was gone.
******
Graham was late.
Granny Plum had hidden herself by a row of large battery units close to the entrance of the aircore hanger. The place was supposed to be high security; Granny liked to think she could move like a shadow, regardless of what an aching back told her, but truth be told the security was about as rigorous as Graham was intelligent. Guards milled about, but most were more concerned with trying to impress the wingcore commander (an old drinking buddy of the Steering Committee chairman) in vain hope of being given a more exciting job than guarding battery packs and pulley systems.
At last a hurried figure came into view past the (empty) guard tower at the side of the short runway (essentially just a few planks angled off the side of the airborne city). The figure was tall and in a rush towards the hangers. Granny stepped out from next to the batteries and beckoned Graham over. “What took you?” she demanded when he was in earshot.
“I wasn’t quite sure when this so called dawn was exactly. I knew it was something to do with morning, but frankly not something I’ve ever much concerned myself with”
Granny rolled her eyes “For future reference, big round bright thing pops over the horizon, that’s dawn”
“Erm, not certain I quite follow you”
“You can’t really be that dumb? Surely”
“Academic pursuits were never really my thing. I was borne for the skies”
“You can’t even do that properly” Granny said gruffly, sinking feeling in her stomach as it dawned on her she was about to willingly get in a plane with this specimen.
“I have a man to deal with minor technicalities. Who doesn’t?” this said with an absent minded shrug.”Now, my winged steed is somewhere….ah….this way Granny Plum!” he turned and strode deeper into the hanger.
Dragging a dust sheet off the aircraft Graham revealed a small single winged aircraft with a fairly puny looking propellor on its snub nose. The two seats behind the small glass canopy were arranged side by side, Graham needing to boost Granny up and in the small side door, before joining her. The two occupants were uncomfortably close to each other in the confined internal space.
“Right” Graham declared, flicking a few switches on a small dashboard above his head. “Let’s er, get going”
“Aren’t you supposed to do some pre-flight checks first?” Granny enquired, dim memories of a pre-haemorrhage excursion to have a go at parachuting with some workmates.
“Tullow handles that sort of faff”
“But Tullow isn’t here”
“That’s right, but I’m quite sure he left everything shipshape, er, airplane-shape” more switches flicked and a couple of buttons pressed for good measure. Nothing happened, Graham frowned. After a bit more prodding of various instruments, a small whine picked up in the nose of the aircraft, then the propeller began to spin. Graham tapped a couple of dials - Granny suspected more for show rather than knowing what they actually did - before he pushed forward on a small lever that sat in the middle of the central console. They began to move forwards.
“Er, aren’t you supposed to get permission to take off” the unpleasant sensation in Granny’s stomach was getting even worse and they hadn’t even left the ground yet.
“I was just about to do that” said a now flustered sounding Graham, snatching up the radio receiver from its cradle on the ceiling. “Hello, er, control. Graham here, callsign, er, 3a9c then I think another 9, or maybe a 4? Anyway, just taking my plane out for a quick spin. Toodles, er over”
A hiss of static then “Sure thing. Hey Graham, you coming to supper at Mike’s tonight…...over?” voice crackling out of the radio. Granny put her palms to her head and cursed under her breath. These were the best and brightest defending New Franklin?
“Certainly, see you there pal” and with that he replaced the radio in its cradle and pushed the power lever to maximum. The engine whine loudened, but being electric was still not intrusive to Granny’s outpouring of opinions on Graham’s general level of competency. No, it wasn’t engine noise that stopped her tirade, rather the now fast approaching edge of the runway.
Granny Plum would never admit this to anyone (and later threatened Graham with great harm should he gossip) but she let out a yelp as they lunched off the edge and into the sky. The small aircraft plunged downward, before Graham yanked back the control wheel. It took a little bit of pitching up and down for him to level them off, but they eventually steadied.
“Right, London is pretty much south, yes?” he asked
“You didn’t plot the route?”
Graham screwed up his face and for a moment looked much like his father “Why would I do something as boring as that? It’s a big city, I’m sure we’ll spot it easily enough” he put the plane into a slight roll, then pulled back on the control wheel again, compass on the control panel slowly edging round as they changed direction.
“But what about getting back?”
“Head north then call for assistance. The chaps back on board will love an excuse for a quick jaunt before the sundown drinks”
It made depressing sense to Granny “And I presume you won’t be billed for that assistance?”
Graham turned to look at her with a puzzled expression, “Billed?”
The pair lapsed into silence, Graham at the controls, tongue peeking out of the side of his mouth as he concentrated, Granny looking out of the windows. Thankfully it was a largely clear day, only the odd cloud and even with those Graham flew below. This gave Granny a good view. It was funny that even though she spent most of her life in a city with a bird's eye view, she never took advantage of it. Always too busy with some scheme or other she mused to herself, but the deeper truth was probably that looking back towards Earth brought too many painful memories to the surface. Friends. Family. But here she was now with the option of either talking to Graham, or silently surveying the fractured landscape. Painful memories won out over painful conversation.
Nothing grew in the scorched ground left behind by the hemorrhages, so Granny looked out over a landscape polka-dotted black. Where populations had been denser, the destruction wider in diameter. This at least meant that much of the countryside had been relatively untouched, much of that now turning orange or brown as Autumn drew on.
As they approached the former capital the frequency of the hemorrhage creators intensified, often linking up together at the edges to form a pattern that looked like it had been an ink spillage that had decimated society. Graham’s statement that “We’re nearly there” rendered obvious. He’d been flying fairly low to keep under what few clouds there were - a sensible precaution given that Granny barely trusted him to know the difference between up and down even when he could see clearly - but this meant that their horizon was not as far as it would have been further up in the sky. It meant it took them a little longer to make out the central part of the city.
It was a beautiful construction.
“She didn’t mean the city itself” Granny muttered as she again recollected what the Princess had said.
“Say again?” Graham wasn’t fully concentrating on Granny, instead starting to wrestle with the controls to avoid flying into the enormous dome looming in front of them. The dome that encapsulated the entire central part of London.
“How’d they build it?” Granny asked more to herself than out of any expectation of engineering prowess from her current companion. The dome was completely opaque and looked to be made out of some kind of metal. But Granny could see no joins or rivets; it was perfectly smooth, with a matt grey-blue finish.
The plane began to vibrate.
Even at their lower altitude, Graham had had plenty of time to steer around or over the massive dome in front of them. But caught in indecision he’d hesitated, now having to make a tighter turn than would otherwise have been needed. As they neared the dome in a steep bank, a buzzing hum was causing the plane to wobble in the air.
“Er…” Graham began, knuckles white on the control wheel.
“Just like when the Princess attacked us” Granny recognised the unpleasant sound seemingly being piped out of the dome, although she could see no speakers.
“What?” a slightly more panicky Graham, the wobble of the plane intensifying.
“That’s how they keep the haemorrhages at bay” Granny remarked, seemingly unperturbed at the plane’s struggles. “Magnificent!” Granny Plum was not one for needless hyperbole, rather the engineer in her meant it fully.
The plane completed its 180 degree turn and the vibration started to recede. Graham heaved a sigh of relief, Granny a sigh of fulorness to be leaving such a feet of engineering in their wake. “We need to go back” she said after a little reflection “Try and get in, make contact with the inside”
“No ma’am, that thing almost rattled my plane to pieces” Graham replied “And besides, we’ve fulfilled the prophecy, now you need to take me to the Princess. A deal is a deal”
Granny thought for a few moment, all the while peering over her shoulder, straining to see the dome as it receded behind them. “Ok” she said “We’ll go to the Princess. I’ve got more questions for her in any case. But no way do I trust you to land this thing groundside, even if you were close to competent, the ground is littered with detritus”
“Detritus?”
“Mess. Rubble, overgrown foliage, old cars”
“I see”
“We’re gonna need more help to get back down there. I know just the man. And his son. ”
*******
“No no no no no no no. No way am I taking you back down there”
“You owe me Jacoby” Granny didn’t quite have her arms back round Jacoby’s throat, but they were poised for it.
“No I bloody don’t. You get my airship smashed up, you nearly get me killed, then you cost me three quarters of my haul in fines. Na-ah, no way, find some other patsy” Jacoby was resolute.
“I saved your lardy arse multiple times” she counted on her fingers exaggeratedly “And you wouldn’t have even had the haul if it wasn’t for me”
“Well even if I was going to take you, which I’m not, it would be impossible. New Franklin is moving too far away” Jacoby tried a different tac in the face of Granny’s onslaught, getting out a map (one of the massive pile it had taken him ages to tidy up after Granny’s last whirlwind visit). He unfolded it and spread it on the table, pointing first to Bedford (“Princesstown” had not caught on) then following the intended path for the airborne habitat. We’re already nearly over Cambridge.
“That’s still within range of your airship” Granny stated matter of factly, she’d done a rough calculation on the way over to the Jacoby’s.
“To get there maybe, but not back” Jacoby crossed his arms.
“Then we make New Franklin come to us” Granny started to smile.
“And how would we, er, do that?” Jacoby really didn’t like it when Granny smiled.
“I think it likely the Steering Committee, and their assorted hangers on, would do all they could to rescue a prodigal son” she nodded towards Graham, who himself was absorbed playing with an old wooden model of a plane that had belonged to Jack.
“You’ll take him hostage?” Jacoby raised his eyebrows.
“It’s doesn’t count as a hostage if they come of their own free will” Granny’s smile widened. “Hey, Graham” she called out, still holding eye contact with Jacoby “You want to go save the Princess?”
“Do I ever!” the young man sat up attentively, looking between Granny and Jacoby like an excited puppy.
“There we go Jacoby, a plan” she clapped him on the back “And 50:50 on anything while we’re down there….”
But Jack Jacoby was in an entirely different headspace. After all, he had a real live genuine Knight of the New Franklin Wingcore stood inside his dwelling. Just wait till he told his schoolmates! He’d idiolised the wingcore since for ever long he could remember. Watching them loop and sore around the habitat while he was either stuck on his dad’s crappy airship or, even worse, at school. And it had been Granny of all people to bring this hero of the sky, just like it was normal to appear at their door and demand to look at his father’s maps. Jack managed to peel his eyes away from the knight, Graham (Jack’s heart fluttered at the realisation he was on first name terms) and looked at Granny. During the course of about 24 hours he’d been puzzled by the old woman drone pilot, scared of her, outright terrified of her, disliked her then something almost like fondness, before back to dislike after she threatened his dad. But what feeling was it now? Confusion? Awe?
“I got brocolli in my teeth or somet kid?” Granny had spotted him looking at her
“What, er, no, er, maam”
“Then quit staring. Go prod your father, see if he’s got anything worth drinking in this dump” then back to Graham “So you see, we travel over Bedford about three times a year…”
“I will petition the Steering Committee to rename it Princesstown in honour of my bride to be” Graham interrupted staring intently at the wall, as if by looking close enough he’d be able to make out a garish pink dress in between the roads laid out on the map.
Granny ignored him “....then we swing east over Cambridge, which isn’t there anymore after a haemorrhage, before heading back north. Never any further south, never any nearer to London” and with this she tapped exaggeratedly at the former capital city on the map. “Do you see what I’m getting at?”
The silence in the room told her that no, it’s other occupants did not. Granny rested her knuckles on the table in front of the pinned up maps, bowed her head in exasperation.
“They’re hiding something from us” she said after a while “the Steering Committee, there’s something in London they don’t want us to see”
“Like what?” Jack had come to look at the map, at the dotted lines his dad had diligently drawn over them, charting the lonely path of New Franklin across the ruined country. “I mean it could be something bad”
“The Princess said it was worth seeing” although Granny realised that this was tenuous logic
Graham, on the other hand was more certain “The Princess has uttered a prophecy? Is that so?! You must tell me more old lady” and with this he placed his hands on Granny’s shoulders, who quickly shrugged him off in disgust and turning to look across the cramped room at Jacoby.
“We ain’t going to London” the older Jacoby spoke up for the first time since Granny had barged into his dwelling “My airship needs repairing, but even if it didn’t it wouldn’t make it to London and back, not now we’re making the turn east” he nodded at a compass he’d had mounted on a squat pedestal in the corner near Granny.
“What about Graham’s plane?” Jack jumped in eagerly
The knight of the wingcore looked a little uncertain “It, er, only has, er two seats”
“Fine my me” Jacoby had stood “Keep me and Jack out of your harebrained plan Granny”
“Awwwww” the younger boy protested, chance of glory slipping away.
“Me and you then Mr Fancypants” Granny said to Graham, who still looked unsure
“Well, it’s just that my second seat is, well, that’s usually where Tullow sits”
“Who’s Tullow?”
“My, er, co pilot, er, slash, er instructor” Graham squirmed
“Your instructor? You mean you don’t even fly the bloody thing?” Granny rested her hands on her hips, head to one side
“I know the, er, basics, but, you, know, there’s lots of complicated, er, charts and, knobs and stuff to get your head round” Graham looked around forlornly for support. Granny looked angry, Jacoby confused and Jack crestfallen. “But I can get us to London and back. It is the prophecy after all”
Granny whistled through her teeth and shook her head. This berk was her best, nay only, chance of working out what the hell was going on. With the added advantage of getting one over on Faulks. “Ok” she said “Tomorrow, dawn. I’ll meet you at the hangers”
Graham brightened a little “A deal. For the Princess!” he attempted to raise his mug of lukewarm tea for a toast, but no one joined him.
“Just don’t tell your father. Not yet” Granny instructed, brightening herself at the prospect of stealing away with Faulks’ own son while the aged administrator attempted to track her down over unpaid fines.
“A clandestine operation to investigate a lost city and rescue the Princess, go it!”
Granny sighed, “Still want to join the aircore kid?” she asked Jack, nodding at the idot Graham
“Maybe the family scrounging business doesn’t look that bad after all” the young man replied straight faced.
Granny smirked, then headed to the door. “Dawn” she said to Graham “Don’t be late” and with a swish of her tweed coat she was gone.
******
Graham was late.
Granny Plum had hidden herself by a row of large battery units close to the entrance of the aircore hanger. The place was supposed to be high security; Granny liked to think she could move like a shadow, regardless of what an aching back told her, but truth be told the security was about as rigorous as Graham was intelligent. Guards milled about, but most were more concerned with trying to impress the wingcore commander (an old drinking buddy of the Steering Committee chairman) in vain hope of being given a more exciting job than guarding battery packs and pulley systems.
At last a hurried figure came into view past the (empty) guard tower at the side of the short runway (essentially just a few planks angled off the side of the airborne city). The figure was tall and in a rush towards the hangers. Granny stepped out from next to the batteries and beckoned Graham over. “What took you?” she demanded when he was in earshot.
“I wasn’t quite sure when this so called dawn was exactly. I knew it was something to do with morning, but frankly not something I’ve ever much concerned myself with”
Granny rolled her eyes “For future reference, big round bright thing pops over the horizon, that’s dawn”
“Erm, not certain I quite follow you”
“You can’t really be that dumb? Surely”
“Academic pursuits were never really my thing. I was borne for the skies”
“You can’t even do that properly” Granny said gruffly, sinking feeling in her stomach as it dawned on her she was about to willingly get in a plane with this specimen.
“I have a man to deal with minor technicalities. Who doesn’t?” this said with an absent minded shrug.”Now, my winged steed is somewhere….ah….this way Granny Plum!” he turned and strode deeper into the hanger.
Dragging a dust sheet off the aircraft Graham revealed a small single winged aircraft with a fairly puny looking propellor on its snub nose. The two seats behind the small glass canopy were arranged side by side, Graham needing to boost Granny up and in the small side door, before joining her. The two occupants were uncomfortably close to each other in the confined internal space.
“Right” Graham declared, flicking a few switches on a small dashboard above his head. “Let’s er, get going”
“Aren’t you supposed to do some pre-flight checks first?” Granny enquired, dim memories of a pre-haemorrhage excursion to have a go at parachuting with some workmates.
“Tullow handles that sort of faff”
“But Tullow isn’t here”
“That’s right, but I’m quite sure he left everything shipshape, er, airplane-shape” more switches flicked and a couple of buttons pressed for good measure. Nothing happened, Graham frowned. After a bit more prodding of various instruments, a small whine picked up in the nose of the aircraft, then the propeller began to spin. Graham tapped a couple of dials - Granny suspected more for show rather than knowing what they actually did - before he pushed forward on a small lever that sat in the middle of the central console. They began to move forwards.
“Er, aren’t you supposed to get permission to take off” the unpleasant sensation in Granny’s stomach was getting even worse and they hadn’t even left the ground yet.
“I was just about to do that” said a now flustered sounding Graham, snatching up the radio receiver from its cradle on the ceiling. “Hello, er, control. Graham here, callsign, er, 3a9c then I think another 9, or maybe a 4? Anyway, just taking my plane out for a quick spin. Toodles, er over”
A hiss of static then “Sure thing. Hey Graham, you coming to supper at Mike’s tonight…...over?” voice crackling out of the radio. Granny put her palms to her head and cursed under her breath. These were the best and brightest defending New Franklin?
“Certainly, see you there pal” and with that he replaced the radio in its cradle and pushed the power lever to maximum. The engine whine loudened, but being electric was still not intrusive to Granny’s outpouring of opinions on Graham’s general level of competency. No, it wasn’t engine noise that stopped her tirade, rather the now fast approaching edge of the runway.
Granny Plum would never admit this to anyone (and later threatened Graham with great harm should he gossip) but she let out a yelp as they lunched off the edge and into the sky. The small aircraft plunged downward, before Graham yanked back the control wheel. It took a little bit of pitching up and down for him to level them off, but they eventually steadied.
“Right, London is pretty much south, yes?” he asked
“You didn’t plot the route?”
Graham screwed up his face and for a moment looked much like his father “Why would I do something as boring as that? It’s a big city, I’m sure we’ll spot it easily enough” he put the plane into a slight roll, then pulled back on the control wheel again, compass on the control panel slowly edging round as they changed direction.
“But what about getting back?”
“Head north then call for assistance. The chaps back on board will love an excuse for a quick jaunt before the sundown drinks”
It made depressing sense to Granny “And I presume you won’t be billed for that assistance?”
Graham turned to look at her with a puzzled expression, “Billed?”
The pair lapsed into silence, Graham at the controls, tongue peeking out of the side of his mouth as he concentrated, Granny looking out of the windows. Thankfully it was a largely clear day, only the odd cloud and even with those Graham flew below. This gave Granny a good view. It was funny that even though she spent most of her life in a city with a bird's eye view, she never took advantage of it. Always too busy with some scheme or other she mused to herself, but the deeper truth was probably that looking back towards Earth brought too many painful memories to the surface. Friends. Family. But here she was now with the option of either talking to Graham, or silently surveying the fractured landscape. Painful memories won out over painful conversation.
Nothing grew in the scorched ground left behind by the hemorrhages, so Granny looked out over a landscape polka-dotted black. Where populations had been denser, the destruction wider in diameter. This at least meant that much of the countryside had been relatively untouched, much of that now turning orange or brown as Autumn drew on.
As they approached the former capital the frequency of the hemorrhage creators intensified, often linking up together at the edges to form a pattern that looked like it had been an ink spillage that had decimated society. Graham’s statement that “We’re nearly there” rendered obvious. He’d been flying fairly low to keep under what few clouds there were - a sensible precaution given that Granny barely trusted him to know the difference between up and down even when he could see clearly - but this meant that their horizon was not as far as it would have been further up in the sky. It meant it took them a little longer to make out the central part of the city.
It was a beautiful construction.
“She didn’t mean the city itself” Granny muttered as she again recollected what the Princess had said.
“Say again?” Graham wasn’t fully concentrating on Granny, instead starting to wrestle with the controls to avoid flying into the enormous dome looming in front of them. The dome that encapsulated the entire central part of London.
“How’d they build it?” Granny asked more to herself than out of any expectation of engineering prowess from her current companion. The dome was completely opaque and looked to be made out of some kind of metal. But Granny could see no joins or rivets; it was perfectly smooth, with a matt grey-blue finish.
The plane began to vibrate.
Even at their lower altitude, Graham had had plenty of time to steer around or over the massive dome in front of them. But caught in indecision he’d hesitated, now having to make a tighter turn than would otherwise have been needed. As they neared the dome in a steep bank, a buzzing hum was causing the plane to wobble in the air.
“Er…” Graham began, knuckles white on the control wheel.
“Just like when the Princess attacked us” Granny recognised the unpleasant sound seemingly being piped out of the dome, although she could see no speakers.
“What?” a slightly more panicky Graham, the wobble of the plane intensifying.
“That’s how they keep the haemorrhages at bay” Granny remarked, seemingly unperturbed at the plane’s struggles. “Magnificent!” Granny Plum was not one for needless hyperbole, rather the engineer in her meant it fully.
The plane completed its 180 degree turn and the vibration started to recede. Graham heaved a sigh of relief, Granny a sigh of fulorness to be leaving such a feet of engineering in their wake. “We need to go back” she said after a little reflection “Try and get in, make contact with the inside”
“No ma’am, that thing almost rattled my plane to pieces” Graham replied “And besides, we’ve fulfilled the prophecy, now you need to take me to the Princess. A deal is a deal”
Granny thought for a few moment, all the while peering over her shoulder, straining to see the dome as it receded behind them. “Ok” she said “We’ll go to the Princess. I’ve got more questions for her in any case. But no way do I trust you to land this thing groundside, even if you were close to competent, the ground is littered with detritus”
“Detritus?”
“Mess. Rubble, overgrown foliage, old cars”
“I see”
“We’re gonna need more help to get back down there. I know just the man. And his son. ”
*******
“No no no no no no no. No way am I taking you back down there”
“You owe me Jacoby” Granny didn’t quite have her arms back round Jacoby’s throat, but they were poised for it.
“No I bloody don’t. You get my airship smashed up, you nearly get me killed, then you cost me three quarters of my haul in fines. Na-ah, no way, find some other patsy” Jacoby was resolute.
“I saved your lardy arse multiple times” she counted on her fingers exaggeratedly “And you wouldn’t have even had the haul if it wasn’t for me”
“Well even if I was going to take you, which I’m not, it would be impossible. New Franklin is moving too far away” Jacoby tried a different tac in the face of Granny’s onslaught, getting out a map (one of the massive pile it had taken him ages to tidy up after Granny’s last whirlwind visit). He unfolded it and spread it on the table, pointing first to Bedford (“Princesstown” had not caught on) then following the intended path for the airborne habitat. We’re already nearly over Cambridge.
“That’s still within range of your airship” Granny stated matter of factly, she’d done a rough calculation on the way over to the Jacoby’s.
“To get there maybe, but not back” Jacoby crossed his arms.
“Then we make New Franklin come to us” Granny started to smile.
“And how would we, er, do that?” Jacoby really didn’t like it when Granny smiled.
“I think it likely the Steering Committee, and their assorted hangers on, would do all they could to rescue a prodigal son” she nodded towards Graham, who himself was absorbed playing with an old wooden model of a plane that had belonged to Jack.
“You’ll take him hostage?” Jacoby raised his eyebrows.
“It’s doesn’t count as a hostage if they come of their own free will” Granny’s smile widened. “Hey, Graham” she called out, still holding eye contact with Jacoby “You want to go save the Princess?”
“Do I ever!” the young man sat up attentively, looking between Granny and Jacoby like an excited puppy.
“There we go Jacoby, a plan” she clapped him on the back “And 50:50 on anything while we’re down there….”
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