Chasing the Star Garden
The Airship Racing Chronicles
The Airship Racing Chronicles
Book I
Melanie Karsak
Genre: Alternative History/Gaslamp-Steampunk
Publisher: Clockpunk Press
Date of Publication: December 4th, 2013
ISBN: 978-0615878775 ISBN-10: 0615878776
Number of pages: 325 Word Count:
70,000
Cover Artist: Damonza
An opium-addicted beauty.
An infamous poet living in self-imposed exile.
An ancient treasure about to fall into the wrong hands.
Melanie Karsak’s “Chasing the Star Garden” takes the reader on an exciting adventure from the gritty opium dens of gaslamp London to the gem-colored waters of the ancient world, introducing us Lily Stargazer, a loveable but reckless airship racer with a famous lover and a shattered past.
Lily Stargazer is having a bad day. She just lost the London leg of the 1823 Airship Grand Prix. To top it off, a harlequin fleeing from constables shoved a kaleidoscope down her pants, told her to fly to Venice, then threw himself from her airship tower.
What’s a girl to do? For Lily, the answer is easy: drink absinthe and smoke opium.
Lily’s lover, Lord Byron, encourages her to make the trip to Venice. Lily soon finds herself at the heart of an ancient mystery which has her running from her past and chasing true love and the stars along the way.
Chapter 1 Sneak Peak:
I was going to lose-again.
I gripped the brass handles on the wheel hard and turned the airship sharply
port. The tiller vibrated in protest making the wheel shake and my wrist bones
ache. Bracing my knees against the spokes, I tore off my brown leather gloves
to get a better feel. The metal handgrips were smooth and cold. My fingers
tingled from the chill.
“Easy,” I whispered to
the Stargazer. I looked up from my position at the wheelstand, past the
ropes, burner basket, and balloon, toward the clouds. They were drifting slowly
left in a periwinkle blue sky. There would be an updraft as we passed over the
green brown waters of the canal near Buckingham House. I locked the wheel and
jumped from the wheelstand onto the deck of the gondola and looked over the
rail. The canal waters were about a hundred feet away. I ran back to the wheel
and steadied the ship. If I caught the updraft, it would propel me up and
forward, giving me an edge.
“Cutter caught it, Lily,”
Jessup yelled down from the burner basket below the balloon opening. “Up he
goes,” he added, looking out through his spyglass. The gold polish on the
spyglass reflected the fire from the burner.
“Dammit!” I snapped down
my binocular lense. I saw Hank Cutter’s red and white striped balloon rise
upward. At the top, he pitched forward with great momentum, catching a
horizontal wind. I could just make out Cutter at the wheel. His blond hair blew
wildly around him. He turned and waved to me. Wanker.
I was not as lucky. Just
as the bow of the Stargazer reached the water, a stray wind came in and
blew me leeward. The balloon jiggled violently in the turbulent air. I missed
the air pocket altogether.
“No! No, no, no!” I
cursed and steadied the ship. I had chased Cutter from Edinburgh across the
Scottish and English countryside. He had been off his game all day. I’d had him
by half a mile the entire race. With the bottom feeders lingering somewhere in
the distance behind us, I’d thought the London leg of the 1823 Airship Grand Prix
would be mine. That was until St. Albans, where Cutter caught a random breeze
that pushed him slightly in front of me. Cutter had a knack for catching
favorable winds; it was not a talent I shared.
“We’re coming up on
Westminster,” Jessup called from the basket. “Lily, drop altitude. Cutter is
too high. Come in low and fast, and you might overtake him.”
The airship towers sat at
the pier near the Palace of Westminster along the Thames. A carnival atmosphere
had overtaken the city as it always does on race day. There were colorful tents
set up everywhere. Vendors hawked their wares to the excited Londoners and
international visitors. Even from this distance, I could hear the merchants
barking from their tents. I even fancied I could smell roasted peanuts in the
wind.
I jumped down from the
wheelstand, ran across the deck, and pulled the valve cord, opening the flap at
the top of the balloon. Hot air released with a hiss. I kept one eye on the
balloon and another eye on Tinkers’ Tower. At this time of day, the heat coming
off of the Palace of Westminster and Tinkers’ Tower would give you a bump. I
looked up. Cutter had started preparing his descent. It would be close.
I ran back to the wheel.
“Angus, I need more
speed,” I yelled down to the gear galley, rapping on the wooden hatch that led
to the rods, belts, and propeller parts below.
Angus slapped open the
hatch and stuck out his bald head. His face was covered in grease, and his
blue-lense monocle glimmered in the sunlight. He looked up at the clouds and back
at me.
“Let’s giddyup,” I called
to him.
“You trying the Tower
sling?” he yelled back.
“You got it.”
He laughed wildly.
“That’s my lassie,” he yelled and dropped back down, pulling the wood hatch
closed with a clap. I heard the gears grind and the propeller, which had been
turning nice and steady, hummed loudly. The ship pitched forward. Within
moments, we were coming up on Tinkers’ Tower. The airship towers were just a
stone’s throw away.
I aimed the ship directly
toward Tinkers’ Tower. Just as the bowsprit neared the clock, I yanked the
wheel. The warm air caught us.
“Whoa!” Jessup yelled as
the balloon moved within arm’s length of the tower.
The sound of “Ohhs!”
echoed from the crowd below.
A mix of warm air and
propulsion gave us some go, and seconds later we were slingshotting around
Tinkers’ Tower toward the airship platforms. Gliding in on warm air and
momentum, we flew fast and low.
Cutter had kept it high,
but now he was dropping like a stone toward his own tower. Damned American. I
didn’t blame him; I would have used the same move. His balloon was releasing so
much air that I wondered if he would be able to slow down in time, not that I
wouldn’t mind seeing him smash to the ground in a million pieces.
“It’s going to be close,”
Jessup yelled as he adjusted the heat pan.
I guided the helm. The Stargazer
was temperamental, but we understood one another. A shake of the wheel warned
me I was pushing too hard. “Almost there,” I whispered to the ship.
The Grand Prix Marshalls
were standing on the platform. Cutter and I had the end towers. I was going to
make it.
“Cut propulsion,” I
yelled toward the gear galley. On the floor near the wheelstand was a rope
attached to a bell in the galley. I rang it twice. The propeller switched off.
A soft, sweet wind blew
in from the port side. It ruffled my hair around my shoulders. I closed my eyes
and turned the wheel slightly starboard, guiding the ship in. As the bowsprit
scooped into the opening of the tower, I heard a jubilant cheer erupt from the
American side and an explosion from the firework cannon signaling the winner
had been declared.
My eyes popped open. I
tore off my goggles and looked starboard. Cutter’s balloon was parked. I threw
the goggles onto the deck and set my forehead against the wheel.
The Stargazer
settled into her tower. Jessup set the balloon on hover and, grabbing a rope,
swung down to the deck. He then threw the lead lines and anchors onto the
platform. The beautifully dressed crowd, gentlemen in suits and top hats and
fancy ladies in a rainbow of satin gowns and parasols, rushed toward the
American end of the platform to congratulate the winner.
I was, once again, a
national disgrace. Lily the loser. Lily second place. Perhaps I would never be
anything more than a ferrywoman, a cheap air jockey.
“Good job, Lily. Second
place!” Jessup said joining me. He patted me on the shoulder.
I sighed deeply and
unbuttoned my vest. The tension had me sweating; I could feel it dripping down
from my neck, between my breasts, into my corset.
“You did great,” I told
Jessup. “Sorry I let you down.”
“Ah, Lily,” he sighed.
Angus emerged from below
wiping sweat from his head with a greasy rag. He pulled off his monocle. He
frowned toward the American side. “Well, we beat the French,” he said with a
shrug and kissed me on the cheek, smearing grease on me.
“Good job, Angus. Thank you,” I said taking
him by the chin and giving him a little shake as I wrinkled my nose and smiled
at him.
Angus laughed and dropped
his arm around Jessup’s shoulders. They grinned happily at one another.
“You stink, brother,”
Jessup told him.
“It’s a wee bit toasty
down there. Besides, I pedaled this ship across the entire fucking country
while ya were up here looking at the birds. That, my friend, is the smell of
success.”
I laughed.
“You pedaled the ship?”
Jessup said mockingly. “Like Lil and I were just up here playing cards? If I
didn’t keep the balloon aloft, your ass would be kissing the ground.”
“Now wait a minute. Are
ya saying your job is more important that mine?” Angus retorted.
I could see where this
was going. “Gents.”
“More important? Now why
would I say that? Just because I’m the one . . .” Jessup started and then his
mouth ran.
“Gents.”
“ . . . and another thing
. . .” Jessup went on.
“Gentlemen! Our audience
awaits,” I said cutting them both off, motioning to the well-shod crowd who
waited for us on the loading platform outside the Stargazer.
I grinned at my crew.
“Come on. Let’s go.”
I patted the rail of the Stargazer.
“Thanks,” I whispered to her, and we exited onto the platform.
A reporter from the London
Times and several race officials stood waiting for me.
“Well done, Lily! Well
done!” the British race official congratulated me with a pat on the back.
“Second place! King George will be so proud. One of these days you’ll have it,
by God.”
I was pretty sure that
the last thing I needed was the attention of George IV, the extravagant,
unpopular lush. But I bit my tongue and smiled politely.
“Lily, how did Cutter
beat you? You led the entire race,” the reporter, a round woman wearing a very
thick black lace collar which looked like it was choking her, asked me. Her
heavy purple walking dress looked hot under the late afternoon summer sun. The
brim of her black satin cap barely shaded her nose. I noticed then, however, that
she had a small clockwork fan pin attached to her chest. The fan wagged cool
air toward her face.
I pulled off my cap,
mopped my forehead, and thought about the question. “Luck,” I replied.
“Lily, that was some move
around Tinkers’ Tower. How did you learn to do that?” another reporter asked.
“My father,” I lied.
“Make way, make way,” one
of the race officials called, ushering a Marshall forward.
The Marshall looked like
someone who lingered an hour too long at supper. The gold buttons on his
marigold satin vest would take an eye out if they popped. His overly tall top
hat was adorned with a ring of flowers that matched his striking orange colored
dress coat.
“Miss Stargazer,
congratulations,” he said, shaking my hand. “The Spanish airship is coming in
now. Will you please join Mr. Cutter at the winners’ podium?” he asked politely
as he guided me forward by the hand.
From below there was a
commotion. A man dressed in an unusual costume was rushing up the stairs. What
looked like a full squadron of the Bow Street Runners, the London constables,
were chasing him. When he got to the loading platform, the man pushed through a
crowd of well-dressed ladies and gentlemen, many of whom were gentry. It was
then I could see he was dressed as a harlequin. He wore the traditional red and
black checked outfit and a black mask. He scanned the towers and caught sight
of me. He jumped, landing on the tower railing, and ran toward me. A woman in
the crowd screamed. Moments later the constables appeared on the platform. The
race Marshalls pointed toward the harlequin who was making a beeline for me.
I let go of the
Marshall’s hand and stepped back toward the ship.
“Lily,” Jessup warned,
moving protectively toward me.
Angus reached over the
deck of the Stargazer and grabbed a very large wrench.
Was it an assassin?
Christ, would someone murder me for winning second place? I turned then and ran
toward the Stargazer. A moment later, the harlequin flipped from the
rail, grabbed one of the Stargazer’s
ropes, and swinging over the others, landed on the platform directly in front
of me. Any second now, I would be dead.
“Lily?” he asked from
behind the mask.
“Stop that man! Stop
him!” a constable yelled.
“Get out of my way!”
Angus roared at the crowd that had thronged in between us.
The masked man grabbed
me, tugged on the front of my trousers, and leaned into my ear. The long nose
of the mask tickled my face. “Go to Venice,” he whispered as he stuffed
something down the front of my pants.
“We got you now,” a
constable said, grabbing him, raising his club.
The man shook him off,
took two steps backward, and with a jump, leapt off the tower.
Several people in the
crowd screamed.
I rushed to the side of
the tower to see the harlequin lying at its base. His body was twisted oddly.
Blood began pooling around him.
“Miss Stargazer, are you
all right?” a constable asked.
“A man just killed
himself in front of me. No, I am not all right.”
“I mean, are you harmed?
Did he hurt you?”
I shook my head and looked down at the mangled body whose twisted form
made the shape of a three-sided triskelion. It was the same symbol that was
painted on the balloon of the Stargazer.
Melanie Karsak grew up in rural northwestern Pennsylvania where there was an abysmal lack of entertainment, so she turned to reading and hiking. Apparently, rambling around the woods with a head full of fantasy worlds and characters will inspire you to become an author. Be warned. Melanie wrote her first novel, a gripping piece about a 1920s stage actress, when she was 12. A steampunk connoisseur, white elephant collector, and caffeine junkie, the author now resides in Florida with her husband and two children. Melanie is an Instructor of English at Eastern Florida State College.
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Airships and opium, oh my! You know i spent a whole minute looking at its banner at the top trying to discern all the aspects...then scrolled down and saw the cover. I like the overlay that was done on the banner and like the cover. Sounds like it could be a good read.
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ReplyDeleteOh my gosh!! This looks amazing! Lord Byron, airships, mystery....yessss
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