Huey continued, “I bet they’re testing out the steering repairs. That’s why they’re out here, so they can take the ship low without hitting anything.”

“Except the wall.”

“Captain Cly won’t hit the wall.”

“Even if Zeke’s on board, getting in the way?”

With a snort, Houjin said, “Probably not even then.” He might’ve added something else, but the noise up above changed suddenly, slightly. A loud clapping sound. An engine revving higher. A twist in the ship’s direction that brought it almost immediately overhead.

“Is something happening?” Rector wanted to know, primarily because an airship falling on his head wasn’t high on his wish list of afternoon activities.

“I don’t … I don’t know.”

They both listened hard and wondered what was going on, without being able to see it. Everything beyond a few feet was yellow or gray, so they used their ears to track the big ship, neither of them admitting to themselves or to each other that the craft sounded distressed.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Houjin lied outright as the engine noise dipped closer.

“I don’t even know where we’d run to. Should we … look for shelter?”

The response was firm. “No. They’re not crashing, they’ve just—”

With a whir and the hiss of hydrogen, the ship leaped upward, taking on another hundred feet in altitude—or so Rector guessed, as if he had any real idea. “You think it could’ve been snagged on something, then got itself free?”

“That seems unlikely.”

“But that’s what it sounds like.”

Huey kept his voice level, but it was tighter than a drum when he said, “I’ll ask when I get back to Fort Decatur. Come on, let’s keep moving.”

“How do you even know it was the Naamah Dar…” Rector lost track of his question, which trailed off and dissolved into the gas. “Huey?”

Before Houjin could reply, something heavy shot down from above—not a ship, and not a pump tube … in fact, nothing man-made. It was something screaming, something plummeting with a roar and a crash, landing against something half crumbled, and crashing through it with a symphony of splinters, cracking timbers, and toppling masonry.

And whatever it was, it kept moving.

It thrashed and writhed, climbing steadily out of the house or shop or hotel in which it’d landed. Rector started to run. Houjin grabbed him by the arm but didn’t stop him; he ran with him, keeping Rector’s wrist clenched tight so they didn’t lose each other.

“What?” Rector squeaked, “is … that?” But Houjin was running too hard, paying too much attention to answer.