They were just beginning to reel Deryn and Apocalypsia in when the storm struck.

The ground men had noticed the darkening sky. They were scrambling about the field, securing the hangar tent with extra spikes, getting the recruits under cover. Four men strained at the ascenders winch, pulling Deryn and her flight companion down, steady and fast. A dozen crew waited to grab both beasties tentacles when they were low enough.

But they were both still five hundred feet up when the first sheets of rain arrived. The cold drops fell diagonally, hitting her dangling feet, even under the cover of the airbeast. Its tentacles coiled tighter, and she wondered how long the medusa would take this pounding before it spilled its hydrogen, hurling itself toward the ground.

"Stay calm, beastie," Deryn said softly. "They're bringing us in."

Meanwhile, Apocalypsia shrieked at her Huxley, "You better stay calm! This is not the time to panic! I repeat, do not panic!"

Deryn tried to tell her that the medusa was only panicking more because of her screams, but the wind tore the words from her mouth.

But now Apocalypsia was laughing manically at the havoc being wreaked around her. Deryn had to admit that she was a wee bit scared be the girl.

A wild gust caught Deryn's medusa's airbag, and it billowed like a full sail. Deryn swung out into the full force of the storm, her boy-slops instantly soaked with freezing rain.

Then the cable snapped taught, whipping both beasts earthward like a kite without enough string. They dropped toward houses and backyard gardens, down to just above the prison walls. It was a wonder that the two Huxleys hadn't crashed into each other. Not yet at least. Directly beneath Deryn, people scurried along wet streets, shoulders hunched, unaware of the monsters overhead.

Another gust of wind struck, and the Huxleys were forced low enough that Deryn could see the ribs of the umbrellas below.

"Barking spiders! This isn't good."

"No really?" Screamed Apocalypsia. "I thought that everything was going perfectly!"

Deryn 'hmphed'. That girl really knew how to get under her skin.

The medusa swelled again, trying to regain its lift, and leveled off a few dozen feet above the rooftops. The cable strained against the wind for a moment then loosened. The ground men were giving them slack, Deryn reckoned, letting them climb a bit more, like a fisherman trying to keep a catch on the line.

But that extra cable was more weight for the two Huxleys to carry, and both the airbeasts and the passengers were heavy with rain. She and Apocalypsia could spill the water ballast, but once it was gone, there'd be nothing left to slow their fall if either of the beasties panicked.

The cable was scraping across the prisons rooftops now, snapping against shingles and drainpipes. Deryn saw it snag on one of the smoking chimneys, and her eyes widened…

No wonder the ground men were letting out more cable—they were keeping he and Apocalypsia away from the prison. If a chimney spark drifted up and reached the Huxley's airbags, the hydrogen would ignite and the ascender would explode into a massive fireball.
Suddenly Apocalypsia bounced hard in her harness. Deryn's Huxley jolted downwards sickeningly, and milliseconds later Deryn heard an ear-splitting 'CRACK!' There was the sound of tearing skin. Deryn began falling much too fast for comfort.

"Your Huxley sprung a leak!" Apocalypsia shouted some other things but Deryn couldn't hear a word.

"What?" Screamed Deryn at the top of her lungs.

"When. You. Hear. Me. Scream. Spill. Your. Ballast!"

"Aye!" replied Deryn, really not sure why she was trusting Apocalypsia.

Then Apocalypsia snapped her ballast open, and unbuckled her harness. She leapt down onto Deryn's Huxley, and out of sight. Deryn sat, waiting for the signal.

Her Huxley was still falling, faster now that Apocalypsia had added her weight. It wouldn't be very long until the two Huxleys hit the—

Deryn's thoughts were interrupted by a somewhat bloodcurdling shriek from above her. Deryn's signal. She reached forward, and gave the ballast cord a good yank. Deryn felt even more water showering down on her head.

Deryn got a fluttering feeling in her gut, she was rising. The sudden movement pulled the Huxley with two passengers a squick higher than the other.

Apocalypsia came back into view, as she flying-leaped in the general direction of the empty Huxley. One of her hands caught on the metal rig that held the rig to the beast. However, the rain-slick aluminum proved insufficient purchase. ((FANCY WORDAGE.))

However, before the girl plummeted down to a rather sticky end, she reached up with her other arm to grip the bar better. Apocalypsia jerked her arm hard, causing her legs to swing forward and catch on the saddle. She slipped back into position and (sort of) re-buckled herself.

"What in blazes did you use to fix it!" Deryn shouted over the fury of the storm.

"Duct tape."

Deryn was about to ask what "duct tape" was, then decided better. "What made it tear!"

"A bullet."

Deryn's eyes widened. A bullet? That meant that Apocalypsia's spontaneous jumping had saved Deryn's life.The bullet must have just skimmed over the top of the beastie. If it was going fast enough, it would have torn a hole in the membrane. If the bullet had hit any lower, Deryn would currently be a squick of ash being battered by the rain. Which meant that Deryn was thankfully still alive. ((Yeah, I realize that Deryn didn't question who shot the Huxley, but I'm definitely too lazy to change it so… yeah, that's what you get.))

But that also meant that technically, Deryn was in debt.

"Um, thanks." Shouted Deryn awkwardly.

Apocalypsia shrugged. "I would have died too, and that would make me sad inside."

Deryn realized that she was right and was glad to feel a little less in debt.

Then the pair of airbeasts slowly began to rise, despite the most recent loss of hydrogen. The ground men gave a cheer and set upon the winch, furiously hauling the airbeasts in against the wind. The captain was supervising, shouting orders from the back of the all terrain carriage.

"Oh no!" Cried Apocalypsia, indicating the tigeresques. "The poor little kitties are getting soaked!"

"What about us?" Deryn didn't bother to point out that the thousand pound tigeresques were neither "little" nor "kitties."

"Mleh!"

Deryn looked down and saw that the ground men had pulled them over the proving grounds, and away from the prison's smoking chimneys.

But then the wind switched directions. Deryn's airbeast billowed, pulling Deryn, Apocalypsia and the other Huxley in a half circle toward the other end of the scrubs.

The Huxley let out a screech above the wind, like the horrible sound when one of Da's air bladders would spring a leak.

"Ach! What was that!"

"No, beastie! We're almost safe!" Deryn shouted.

But the medusa had been tossed about and shot once too often. Its gasbag was contracting, the tentacles coiling as tight as rattlesnakes. Deryn looked over to the other Huxley, and saw that it too, was spilling its hydrogen.

Deryn Sharp smelled the hydrogen spilling into the air, the scent like bitter almonds. She was falling…

But the wind still carried them, changing direction without rhyme or reason. Deryn was aware that Apocalypsia was laughing hysterically, which was not helping the beasties to relax.

They had to be heavier than air now, but in a gale like this, Deryn fancied that you could fly a bowler hat on a bit of string.

At the other end of the cable, the ground men were watching helplessly, the flight captain ducking as the gyrating cable sliced overhead. If they tried to crank the beasts any closer, they'd pull them straight down into the ground.

Jaspert was running across the field toward her, cupping his hands to his mouth and shouting something…

She caught the sound of his voice, but the wind whipped the words away. Deryn's feet now dangled a few yards above the ground, which raced by as if she were on horseback. She looked over at Apocalypsia and saw that every few moments her feet would jar painfully against the ground.

The girl winced every time her feet hit, and Deryn wondered how her ankles hadn't been reduced to dust yet.

The prison loomed close again as the two Huxleys sped along. Smashing into its walls at this speed would turn the airbeasts and their passengers into bloody splotches.

Deryn's fingers scrambled at the pilots rig, searching for a way to escape the harness. She reckoned her chances were better dropping onto muddy grass then crashing into a wall. And with her weight gone, the Huxleys would rise back into the air.

Of course, that clart-rag of a coxswain hadn't bothered showing her how to unbuckle the rig. The leather straps were swollen with rain, cinched as tight as a duck's bum. Evidently, the service didn't trust recruits not to wriggle out in a panic and fall to their deaths.

Then Deryn saw a knot over her head—the cable that bound the airbeast to the ground! She looked at the cable stretched out between her and the winch… about three-hundred feet of it now. That length of rain soaked hemp had to weigh more than one skinny wee lassie and her wet clothes.

If she could set the Huxleys free, they might still have enough hydrogen to carry them up to safety.

But the ground was rising again, blurring past just beneath her feet—the prison walls ahead. Reaching up with one hand, Deryn felt the half familiar shape of the knot…

It was nothing but a backhanded mooring hitch! She remembered Jaspert telling her how air service riggers used sailors knots, the same ones she'd tied a thousand times on Da's balloons!

As Deryn struggled to free the wet cable from its knot, her boots struck the ground with a bone-jarring thud, skidding across the wet grass. Apocalypsia was still repeatedly smacking into the ground.

But the real danger wasn't below—it was the approaching prison walls. Deryn, Apocalypsia, and the Huxleys were seconds away from smashing into that shining expanse of wet stone.

Finally her fingers pushed the working end of the cable free. The knot spilled, the rope twisting like a live thing, skinning her fingers as it slipped from the steel ring.

As the weight of three-hundred feet of wet hemp dropped away, they cleared the prison walls with yards to spare.

"Hurrah!" Cheered Apocalypsia.

Deryn's breath caught as a belching chimney passed beneath her feet. She imagined raindrops tumbling down its mouth to the coal fires below, spitting steam, the sparks rising up to ignite to two angry masses of hydrogen overhead.

But the wind whipped the sparks away—moments later, the Huxleys had cleared the southernmost prison buildings.
As she climbed, Deryn heard a hoarse cheer from below.

The ground men raised their arms in triumph. Jaspert was beaming, cupping both hands to his face and shouting something that sounded congratulatory, as if to say she'd done exactly what he'd told her!

"It was my barking idea, Jaspert Sharp," she muttered, sucking her rope burned fingers.

"Here!" Apocalypsia tossed yet another small jar at Deryn. "It's a cream for wet huxley-cable burned fingers!"

"How specific," Muttered Deryn, as she unscrewed the jar and jammed her sore fingers into it.

Deryn sighed as the pain was relieved from her throbbing digits.

Of course, she was still in the middle of a storm, strapped to an irritable Huxley, her only human company being a thirteen year old girl who seriously was not right in the head. And all of them were soaring across a stretch of London with precious few spots to land.

And how was Deryn meant to land the beasties? She had no way to vent hydrogen, no more ballast in case the creatures spooked, And no clue if anyone had ever free ballooned with a Huxley and lived to tell the tale.

Still… at least she was flying. If she ever came down alive, the boffins would have to admit as how she'd passed this test.

Boy or not, Deryn Sharp had shown a squick of air sense after all.