Free Chenda and the Airship Brofman by Emilie P. Bush

quickly to slip 24, where a small slate indicated the next airship to occupy the space would be the Brofman. At the moment, however, the slip was empty.
    A tall, broad shouldered man in a double breasted canvas vest, thick cotton shirt and black aeronaut boots stood alone in the assembly area, looking out over Coal City. He casually leaned one shoulder against the glass and occasionally glanced over his shoulder. When Chenda and the professor stopped in the assembly area, he took one last longing gaze at the city and then turned his attention away from the view. His face broke into an easy grin as he approached Candice, extending a hand.
    “Professor Mortimer, yes?” he asked as they shook hands. “I'm Lieutenant Fenimore Dulal, first officer on the airship Brofman . Pleased to meet you.”
    “Call me Candice,” she said with a nod. “This is my assistant, Chen,” Candice continued, again sounding almost dismissive in an effort to draw no notice to Chenda.
    His gray eyes sparkled under his sandy hair as he turned to Chenda, extending his hand toward her. For a fraction of a second, just as he looked into her face for the first time, his hand stopped moving forward and his eyes hardened with anger, and then softened again.
    “A pleasure,” Fenimore said as he gingerly took Chenda's bandaged hand, managing the smallest of shakes before releasing it.
    “Well, it's almost five o'clock. Will we be departing on time?” Candice asked as she looked around the neighboring slips.
    “Never fear,” he said, “You can set your watch by Captain Endicott.  He's never late and he never wastes time. He asked me to welcome you and assure you that all is well and running smoothly.”
    “Excellent,” Candice said as she settled herself into one of the many chairs in the assembly area. Fenimore turned his attention toward Chenda.
    “Chen is it?” he asked, politely, his eyes now calm and sparkling.  His casual stance conveyed confidence and ease. Chenda nodded.
    Fenimore went on, “I don't think you've been on an airship before, am I right?”
    Chenda looked surprised. “How could you know that?” she asked.
    “Well, you've not adjusted your flight coat to fit yet.” He added conspiratorially, “That's the giveaway.”  He cocked his head to one side, “May I?” He reached a hand toward Chenda, who took a small leap backwards.  His movement made her nervous.
    “Whoa,” he said in a soothing voice, “I'm not going to hurt you.” He guessed now that her injuries weren't accidental. Someone had hurt her, deliberately, and very recently, too. He stepped backward as well, not wanting to frighten her further.
    “Listen,” he said, his voice soft and charming, “you will need to get your flight coat fitting properly before we go. You step on the deck flapping that much loose sail, you'll be blown right off the airship.” As he spoke, he held his palms up to her in a gesture of surrender.
    Chenda blushed, which brought a fresh wave of pain to the bruised side of her face. She felt foolish to have skittered away from someone offering a kindness. She dug down deep for some courage.
    “Sorry,” she said, stepping back toward Fenimore. “A little help is always welcome.” Using the remainder of her moxie, she looked him in the face and tried to return his smile. It made her face ache. She held her arms out slightly, an invitation for Fenimore to begin.
    “This will just take a second,” he said as he started to adjust the various straps and hidden buckles on her flight coat. His hands moved quickly and gently, fitting the coat snugly to her, turning her in a complete circle as he worked. She never caught his slight pause as he noted the bloodstained hole under her arm. It seemed to Chenda that he took special care not to jerk on any of the straps or touch her body in any way. She appreciated that he was being considerate of her injuries, or perhaps he was just being discreet.
    “There now. Take a look.” He turned