Read Lust Plague (Steamwork Chronicles) for Free Online

could think of was sex?
    Not the best start to the day, but she’d never let that stop her. The way he’d tied these ropes…dare she hope?
    Whatever had clouded her mind had somehow gone away, even if her body still had problems telling right from wrong. There was always a way out. Given the slightest chance, she’d take it. A distant crump distracted her, and she looked up at the sky.
    “It’s your ship.” Sten rose to his feet, half turning to track the finely decorated craft that floated into view from behind a tall tree. The blue and white dragons clashing on the bow were just discernible. Beyond the Art of War , another ship showing the orange eagle of the PME closed in. Smoke trailed from the PME vessel to just below her ship. A warning shot? A flock of gyrocopters launched from the PME ship, spinning out in an arc and sweeping toward the lumbering Art of War.
    “Idiots,” she whispered. “What are they doing here? If Art of War is taken over by zombies don’t they know they’re in too close as well?”
    “See, now you’re thinking right. And yeah, they’re fools. Guess this exclusion zone needs to be bigger. The zomb plague’s expanding.”
    “Yes.” Irritated, yet knowing she needed to appeal to him, she shot a fiery stare at her captor. “I need to be up there. Please. If I’m immune, well, sort of, I may be able to help.”
    “No! Look.” He pointed. “Big problems.” One by one, the gyrocopters wobbled in flight. One tipped and spun groundward, upside down and screaming with the sound of overwrought metal. A whump and a puff of smoke told when it hit.
    Blinking with unshed tears, she watched all the gyros fall from the sky and the airships slowly close in, bump against each other, then go wandering across the sky on divergent paths like lost bloated sheep. Dark objects fell from them.
    “No one up there’s steering them anymore,” Sten murmured.
    While he looked skyward, whipping out a telescope for a closer view, she screwed her hand around, seeking the handle just below her seat—not standard on most gyros and so Sten likely wouldn’t know. At full stretch, her fingertips touched the knob down there. The rope on her wrists pulled painfully at her skin, but she could do it. Once in the air, she’d try again. Maybe she could surprise him. Maybe not. Though a hand of iron seemed to clamp on her chest and sent her heart pounding loud in her temples, she knew she had to do this. Running away was not an option.
    Sten stepped into the pilot’s seat in front of her and flicked on the voltaic ignition switch. He strapped his wolf in with a body harness. The whine and roar from the engine behind Kaysana told of the preburst ignition of the coal. As the pressure built, the floor under her bare feet vibrated.
    “Going up,” yelled Sten, slipping goggles over his eyes—plain brown leather and brass like the ones he’d given her.
    That he’d bothered putting a pair on her was, she admitted, nice of him. The man had some good points. Going back for more men was a waste of time. But…weighing up what he’d said, again, he was partly right too. Sorrow dipped her heart in ice. Art of War was gone, and the men and women on her. Where did that leave her? Going back was wrong too.
    Ha . She puffed out her cheeks. Leaves me still tied to this blasted seat.
    Least they could—well, she could—try to find out for sure if the mission was hopeless before giving in. The info from HQ had raised hopes. There might be an easy way to destroy this disease, and every extra day, every extra hour this took, the higher the death toll.
    Purring, chugging, the scout gyrocopter rose into the sky, leaving behind the grove of tall, spreading trees that enclosed the clearing. At about one hundred feet, he leveled off, then steered around to head west. Every second took her farther from the mission objective.
    Worming her hand down close enough took five minutes. Unscrewing the safety cap took another five. By then