Merit had run to the closest com-line, the receiver to his ear while he screamed to the bridge, “Right center bladders hit. Bleed their gas, drop ballast, open carbon dioxide tanks above.”

It was morning. There was a little less oxygen in the morning air, which helped reduced the threat of fire.

There wasn’t any sign of fire, was there?

There wasn’t, and that jolt of optimism helped Tar`ro think.

The awful monkey was screaming. Soldiers guarding the boy were very serious about their duties. Golden eyes squinted when Tar`ro approached, so the tree-walker pretended to care about the damned pet. Kneeling, he shouted, “You’re fine, I’m here. Bite my hand, you brat.”

The soldier’s interest moved across the room.

The nearest whiffbird was a busy loud machine ready to lift off the floor. Two of its crewmembers were shouting. One seemed to be waving Diamond closer, while the other, the pilot, just as surely signaled for everyone to get away.

The floor had been tilting for several moments.

The woman papio was still firing.

Tar`ro grabbed Diamond by an arm, and Good clamped down on the Tar`ro’s wrist, and then the whiffbird was punched by a cannon blast that broke its windows and set its interior ablaze.

Tar`ro remembered a fat round button painted red.

He punched Good and turned away, trying to recall where the fire-suppression switch was waiting. But Merit was already there, holding it down as alarms sounded and Bountiful listed and various fires were burning around the dock. And then, just as people and the papio began to lose their feet, heavy carbon dioxide poured out of vents built for no other purpose.

Diamond pulled loose of the bleeding hand.

The soldiers weren’t with them anymore. They were running and sliding their way down the rubber floor, stopping where the woman soldier had been. A couple other soldiers were already there, firing fast. The woman soldier was gone. The big fletch filled the long open doorway, dressed in strong scales, engines roaring as it prepared to accelerate. It looked like a beast deciding on the best way to run. Then a new roar arrived, louder still and probably fiercely hot, shaking the air and the floor and every person. The world shuddered as a wing slashed past Bountiful, next to no space between the two machines.

The wing was gone, and the fletch decided on its direction, pulling away.

Fires were burning across the dock, but not so brightly now. Choking gases made smoke and smolder, and Merit shouted something about holding your breath, except it was too late. Tar`ro had lungs full of carbon dioxide, and while he might not burn to death, he was beginning to wobble from a lack of oxygen.

Bountiful kept bleeding through its wounds and out the emergency shunts. Every water tank was opened. Heavy blackwood timbers set onboard when the ship was built were sent tumbling. Then the unrestrained machinery began to slide and fall free. A second door in the dock was opened, soldiers tossing out tools and furniture and several dead bodies followed by pieces of the shattered whiffbird. The airship struggled to remain buoyant, but that wasn’t possible. How could it fly when the central bladders were gutted? The ship was plunging for the demon floor, and that black thought gave Tar`ro encouragement enough to cough hard and find a fresh good breath of real air before looking around the room again.

Diamond had pulled free of his grip. He and the monkey were crawling uphill. The floor had about a two-thirds pitch, and the other prisoners were clinging to anything bolted to the floor as well as each other. Nissim had Elata beside him, and she clung to him. Karlan grabbed his brother in a haphazard grip. Merit was trying to move along the wall above them, the receiver dangling on its wire. The slayer shouted orders to whoever might be on the end of the line. “Leave us crooked, don’t bleed extra. And straight. Push straight for the reef, fast!”

Tar`ro climbed after the boy.

From outside, in the distance and then very close, came the sharp roars of more wings and the hard sputter of guns.

An explosion followed, huge and lingering.

Catching the boy, Tar`ro said, “Stay with me.”

“No.”

“Your father’s orders,” he said.

Diamond looked at his bodyguard. What was different about his face was apparent, and it was nameless.

“No, I have to find Quest,” the boy said. “She’s somewhere close.”

“Who?”

“She’s somewhere close,” he said, climbing toward the hallway.

The remaining whiffbirds were sliding, crashing into the wall and the final closed door. Every rotor was shattered. Nothing else could fly. But ten thousand generations of corona hunters had helped build a machine ready for almost any disaster, even ones nobody could imagine. Merit hit important buttons, and the doors didn’t just open, springs flung them free, and the whiffbirds tumbled away, and living papio followed, and the brilliant wash of sunshine came through the new openings, every surface and face and the soft black of the floor shining its fashion.

Good hollered a vile, immortal curse.

The boy had nearly left his monkey behind. He was showing a lot of pluck for being a miserable climber.

Tar`ro decided to give him a good chase.

The floor was no steeper than before, but it wasn’t any better either. Holes ready to hold straps gave his hands perches, and he worked closer and the monkey did the same, and both of them cursed and said, “Slow down.”

Diamond stopped just short of the hallway, breathing hard.

“What are you chasing?” Tar`ro asked.

Diamond was looking up, and he was listening. The ship’s bones were groaning as weight shifted, and the punctured bladders collapsed into a useless state while the remaining bladders expanded, filled with hydrogen reserves that caused the corona flesh to distort, pushing at the skeleton and the outer skin.

Again, Tar`ro shouted, “What are you chasing?”

“My sister,” the boy said, still looking ahead. “She’s here, she’s close.”

Sister?

The word generated too many answers, and Tar`ro had no time. No patience. The other humans were clinging to little perches, safe only by the easiest scale. Merit was holding the wall and the receiver, shouting at the invisible bridge. Then he noticed his son climbing into danger. But Diamond had a problem—a long stretch of tilted empty floor without holds of any kind—and that should have stopped him. Moving again would be stupid for anyone. But the boy had already kicked off his school boots, and with the tiny toes gripping, every finger digging at the rubber, he tried hard to do what couldn’t be done. And he slipped. And he caught himself for a moment and then dropped again, and Good stayed where he was, safe and screaming.

Tar`ro wasn’t directly below Diamond, but clinging onto the last tie-hole, he swung his legs into the air, the boy grabbing one ankle and holding on.

“Get up here,” Tar`ro ordered.

Merit had seen the fall. He was shouting and starting to climb out into the open again.

“Come on,” Tar`ro coaxed.

The boy crawled over him, and Merit had scrambled down close enough to stretch out his long frame, offering his hand to his son.

Diamond grabbed and held tight.

Father and son were climbing together, and Tar`ro started after them. He had handholds. There were no obstacles. He had no idea why he let go. Maybe Bountiful shuddered, or maybe he was tired and still weak from the carbon dioxide. Or ten lucky handholds didn’t mean that the eleventh would work, which was probably the simple ugly reason why he and the floor released one another.

Tar`ro flung his arms, blindly stabbing for holes that didn’t want to be found.

But this wouldn’t be too bad, the man reasoned. The doorways were only so long, and there were plenty of walls happy to catch him. That was a fine enduring thought that gave him hope, and then he was past the walls and spinning in the open air without a scratch on his body, tumbling three times before pointing his stomach up, arms and legs stretching out to keep his speed as slow as possible.