Free Iron Horsemen by Brad R. Cook

isn’t insulated, so it’ll be cold and windy. Crawl through and climb in between the bags. Take these patches and glue.”
    I nodded and crawled in head first. The wind howled against the hull. It deafened and chilled me to the bone. I moved along the metal planking, excited to see what kept this aero-dirigible afloat. The crawl space ran along the spine of the vessel before opening up above me. Three huge bags, taut to the point of bursting, were secured to the inner bracing by thick metal straps.
    Determined to please Mr. Singh and the captain, I squeezed around and felt all the seams of the helium bags. On the third one, I felt a small blast of air, and noticed the bag wasn’t as taut as the others. Pulling the patch I’d tucked into my leather strap, I applied the glue to the bag. I smoothed the treated canvas patch over the leak and cleaned up the excess glue with my finger. Unable to feel the draft of escaping gases, I crawled back out and found Mr. Singh and Genevieve waiting.
    I smiled big and said, “I plugged the hole on the back bag.”
    Mr. Singh corrected me, “You sealed the number drei portside helium container.” Then he showed us the tanks located just outside the engine room to check the pressure in the bag I’d repaired.
    Gustav called us for lunch with a cowbell.
    I devoured my meal, a mix of salted meats and bread, but all I could think about was the training that would follow. Genevieve looked less enthused but still accompanied me to the top deck after lunch. Captain Baldarich waited with Hunter and Ignatius. Mr. Singh walked behind us and nodded to the captain as we arrived.
    Baldarich hit Ignatius’s shoulder, “See what this kid has.”
    â€œWith pleasure.” He threw off his duster and raised his fists.
    My excitement drained, I wanted to learn, but Ignatius looked
too
eager. I raised my fists, but the little voice in the back of my head kept screaming this was a bad idea. I’donly fought the school bully twice and had lost once, but that was over a year ago.
    Ignatius swung and I dodged it, which felt good and I missed the second punch, but not the knee that accompanied it. Doubled over and struggling to breathe, I stood up as much as I could and readied to fight. The voice was right—bad idea. My gut seized up and I couldn’t breathe.
    The captain grimaced, along with the others standing beside him. “Come on kid, that’s not how you fight. Use your surroundings. Keep moving, keep your arms up, and for god’s sake keep an eye on him.”
    Ignatius chuckled. “You might as well crawl back to the crib if that’s the best you got. Try this.”
    As the cowboy took his next swing I ran toward the wall, not wanting to get hit again. Ignatius laughed, but I stepped on the railing and sprang off, punching him in the face.
    Captain Baldarich clapped his hands. “Excellent, that’s how you fight.” He stepped between us as Ignatius charged me. “Let’s see if the kid can shoot, then we’ll see how they handle the blades.”
    Hunter opened the door and the wind rushed in whipping their long coats against them. I stared out at the clouds, the vast ocean below and the majesty of the endless blue above and below shrunk me to a pea. I saw the curve of the horizon, the very shape of the world.
    Hunter grabbed a couple of treated canvas balloons and filled them with helium. He brought us to the door. Using a modified shot-put launcher mounted to the wall, he flung the balloons into the open sky, where they drifted away on the wind. Taking a rifle that leaned against the wall, Hunter handed it to me. “Focus your aim, steady your breathing, and when you’re ready, ease the trigger, don’t jerk it.”
    Baldarich laughed. “Pretend it’s the Kaiser.”
    I raised the rifle and took aim. Easing the trigger, the rifle exploded and kicked like a bucking bronco. The balloon