John Brosnan - The Sky Lords

Jan didn’t believe a word he said. She couldn’t imagine him feeling the way she felt at the moment, nor did she imagine she would ever get used to being a flea on this giant’s smooth and shiny back. She looked more closely at the surface of the hull. It seemed to be covered with countless close-fitting pieces of hexagonally-shaped, dark grey glass. She remembered watching the Sky Lord from the ground and thinking that its upper half was covered in fish scales. She asked Milo what they were.

“Sun-gatherers. At least that’s what these sky people call them. Actually, they’re. …”

He was interrupted by Benny yelling at them to get moving. The slaves started to head out on to what seemed to be a kind of pathway, bounded by low hand rails, that appeared to stretch along the spine of the hull all the way back to the huge tail fin. Jan figured that the towering structure of the fin was at least a third of a mile away, but distances were hard to judge in this bizarre landscape.

She kept hold of the rail as she and Milo followed the others on to the pathway. Benny brought up the rear. He was whistling.

“The sun-gatherers are what used to be called solar cells,” Milo continued. “They absorb the sunlight and convert it into electrical energy. That’s where the power comes from for the Sky Lord’s engines, for the heating and light—everything. When they finally all give out the sky people will be, as we used to say once upon a time, up shit creek without a—”

“Give out? What do you mean?” she asked.

He gestured at the glass pieces. “These are Old Science. The members of the Sky Lord’s Guild of Engineers, the nearest thing to intelligent people on board this giant bag of gas, can’t duplicate them. They contain a genetically engineered substance that is similar to the chlorophyll in plants. Very efficient and in theory will continue to work indefinitely, but I wouldn’t bet on it. These airships have been knocking around the world for hundreds of years now and the wear and tear is really beginning to show. I wouldn’t be surprised if a large percentage of these cells are no longer functioning properly, or maybe have become disconnected from the power grid. The engineers don’t even know how that works so until the lights go out one day they won’t have a clue about the real situation. …”

“Okay, hold it!” ordered Benny. “This is it, section five. Where you work today, glass walkers.”

Jan looked and saw a large figure ‘5’ daubed to the left of the pathway. The red paint covered several of the ‘sun-gatherers’. Jan asked Milo, “Don’t tell me we’re supposed to clean all these things?”

“Can you think of any other reason to be out here with mops?” he said with a grin.

“But why do they need cleaning?”

“Fungus. There’s a particular species that likes to make its home on the glass. The air-borne spores lodge in the cracks between the cells. Eventually the fungus covers the whole cell, preventing it from absorbing the sunlight.”

Jan looked down at the glass segments in front of her. “They look clean to me,” she said.

“ These may be but this isn’t where we’ll be working. Come on. …” He helped her over the railing. The other slaves, and Benny, were already over and heading towards the left ‘horizon’. As she walked after them with Milo she almost immediately became aware of the curvature of the hull under her feet. Walking along the footpath had created the impression that the hull’s surface was perfectly flat. A queasy feeling stirred in her stomach. She didn’t want to go any further from the path but knew she had no choice.

“See those two carrying those tanks?” Milo asked her, pointing at two male slaves who were carrying bulky metal cylinders on their backs. “They’ll spray the affected areas with solvent ahead of us then we simply wipe it off.”

“So why aren’t they spraying yet?” she asked anxiously.

“Because we haven’t reached the allotted area yet. All this part of the upper hull—the easily accessible sections—are taken care of by other slave units. But Guild Master Bannion’s glass walkers get the more difficult jobs. That’s why Bannion is rich and we live better than most of the other slaves.”

“We live better ?”

“Believe it, we do.”

They were now on a definite downward slope but there was no sign of the group slowing their pace. How much further could they go before the slope became so acute they would all lose their footing and start to slide down the side of the hull?

“How much further?” she asked Milo worriedly.

“Quite a way, I’m afraid.”

“But surely we can’t go much further,” she protested.

“Why do you think we’re carrying these ropes?”

“Oh Mother God. …” she sighed.

Jan had been curious as to where Milo planned to obtain the food he’d mentioned. She’d become more curious as she followed him down the rows of flimsy cubicles and into the main communal area. The pair of them attracted angry glares from the few other slaves already up but no one said anything. Milo led Jan to the spiral stairs. “Up you go,” he said.

She was surprised. “We can just leave ? I thought we were prisoners here.”

“We’re prisoners, all right, but we can go where we like on board the Pangloth . As long as it’s anywhere bearing the sign.” He pointed at the black star on his cheek. “Bannion must have told you that when he branded you.”

“Oh, yes, I think he did,” she said as she mounted the stairs. “But I wasn’t paying much attention at the time.”

“That’s understandable. Meeting Bannion for the first time is not a pleasurable experience for any slave. I imagine it must be much worse for a woman.”

“Yes. And I remember now something else he told me—that if I turn out to be clean he’d like to get to know me much better.” They were now walking along the tunnel Benny had brought her down. Milo said, “What he meant was that if whichever slave you slept with didn’t turn into a mass of cancers from some sexually-transmitted virus he would give you the honour of letting you become one of his personal slaves. Not a bad job. Plenty of good food and other luxuries. Of course you’d have to endure certain indignities, like getting his whip across your backside at frequent intervals. Bannion enjoys hurting women. Apart from making money I would say it’s his chief pleasure in life.”

Jan remembered the girl with Bannion. The thought of being like her was revolting. “How can anyone enjoy hurting someone else?” she asked Milo.

“That’s an interesting question. The evolutionary value of sado-masochistic traits has attracted a lot of speculation but I shall spare you my own theories … Let’s just say that you will find staying with me a much more agreeable fate.”

Another question had occurred to her. “You’re willing to make love to me right away. Why aren’t you afraid of getting a disease from me, like the Guild Master is?”

“Because he’s a superstitious cretin, like most of the sky people. The chances of your community harbouring any of the fatal viruses are very remote these days but the belief lingers on among these fools. The only really dangerous places still are the cities. Even though there are no people some of the plague spores were designed to live indefinitely. The ground itself is unhealthy.”

Jan said, “There haven’t been any plagues in Minerva for a long, long time. Very occasionally someone will die from the fungus but that’s all.”

“So you see, I’m not being brave by wanting to sleep with you. Just rational. And I think it’s irrational that we should wait the full week.”