She tucked the valise under one arm and lifted the birdcage in that hand. The trunk weighed almost as much as she did (another middy gone), but Deryn managed to lift one end and drag it along. The four of them - and Tazza the thylacine - headed back into the park, the boffins carrying the box at a snail's pace.
As they made their way toward the airship, Deryn grumbled under her breath. It was one thing giving up her berth for a renowned boffin on a secret mission, but if some daft beastie named Tazza was going to take her place, the world had gone completely barking spiders.
Dr. Barlow clicked her tongue. "Your airship looks unhappy."
The Leviathan was still about fifty feet up, the captain bringing her down with infinite caution. The cilia on its flanks were rippling, and flocks of fabricated birds roiled across the park, driven from their nesting coves by the airship's twitchiness.
What was the great beastie so nervous about? Deryn glanced up, remembering the squall that had almost ended her Air Service career on the first day. But the sky was cloudless. Maybe it was the gawkers surrounding the field, their bright parasols twirling in the sun.
Chapter 13
"My cargo requires a smooth ride, Mr. Sharp."
"It'll be calm once we're off the ground," Deryn said. In one airmanship lecture Mr. Rigby had filled a wineglass to the brim - even during hard turns not a drop had spilled over. "It's just that the airflow gets messy down here."
Dr. Barlow nodded. "Especially in the middle of London, I suppose."
"Aye, ma'am. The streets tangle up the wind, and the big ships get nervous coming down on unfamiliar fields." Deryn said this flatly, not mentioning whose fault the situation was. "You see those wee grassy bits on the ship's flanks? They're called cilia, and they look shivery to me."
"MOORING AT REGENT'S PARK."
"I know what cilia are, Mr. Sharp," the lady boffin said. "I fabricated this particular species, in fact."
Deryn blinked, feeling like a ninny. Lecturing one of the Leviathan's creators on the subject of airflow!
The thylacine was bouncing happily on its hind legs again, its big brown eyes taking in all the activity. Two elephantines waited below the airship, harnessed to a transport wagon and an armored car. The constables could hardly keep the crowd back from the spectacle.
With no mooring mast in the park, ropes stretched in all directions from the Leviathan. Deryn frowned, noticing that some of the men clinging to them weren't in Service uniforms. She spotted a few policemen, and even a team of cricketers drafted from games in the park.
"Fitzroy must be daft," she muttered.
"What's the trouble, Mr. Sharp?" Dr. Barlow asked.
"Those men on the ropes, ma'am. If a squall comes up quick, they won't know to let go - and fast - or be carried up into the air ..."
"Where they shall eventually lose their grip," Dr. Barlow said.
"Aye. One strong gust can carry the Leviathan up a hundred feet in seconds." It was the first thing they taught ground men: Don't hang on. The trees rippled overhead, sending a shiver through Deryn.
"What would you recommend we do, Mr. Sharp?"
Deryn frowned, wondering if the ship's officers knew what was going on. Most of the untrained men were back at the stern end, out of sight of the bridge. "Well, if we could get word up to the captain, he'll know to get down fast, or cut the ropes if a squall hits."
She scanned the field, looking for Fitzroy, or anyone in charge. But the park was all in chaos, and the chief constable nowhere to be seen.
"Perhaps Clementine can help us," Dr. Barlow said.
"Who?"
Dr. Barlow handed Tazza's leash to Deryn, then reached for the birdcage. She opened the linen cover and reached inside, pulling out a bird with gray feathers and a brilliant red tuft at its tail.
"Good morning, Dr. Barlow," the bird squawked.
"Good morning, dear," she answered. Then she said in a slow, clear voice, "Captain Hobbes, greetings from Dr. Barlow. I have a message from Mr. Sharp: You appear to have some untrained men on your ropes." She looked at Deryn and shrugged. "And ... I look forward to meeting you, sir. End message."
She gathered the bird closer to her chest, then pushed it toward the airship.
As it swept up and away, Deryn murmured, "What was that?"
"A message parrot," Dr. Barlow said. "Based on the Congo African Grey. We've been training it especially for this trip. It can read airmen's