I do not think that I have ever seen so many well-to-dos in one place before and doubt, or perhaps it’s hope, that I never will again. The sound, the smell, the sight of so much metal and inhumanity quite honestly makes me want to flee for the distant hills. It just makes me think; what could be so bad about a person that they would feel the need to hide it under layers of copper wiring and steel?

There’s even one women, a slinky lady in a pink frilly frock, that actually has a metal nose, with two tiny brassy chimneys sticking out of the nostrils in order, I imagine, to enable her to breathe. I suppose that some might call this ‘fashion’ whereas I am afraid that I can call it nothing short of self-mutilation. It really is a shame, though, because I think that this woman would be rather uniquely beautiful without the bulbous addition to her rosy face.

We’ve just taken our seats on the Titania and the majesty inside dwarves even that of its outer appearance; if I were Franklin’s age I would be gawping at everything I can get my eyes on, just as he, in fact, is.  The floor seems to be some kind of marble-like stone, the walls are wooden and adorned with various portraits of important historical figures. There are chandeliers hanging like diamonds on necklaces from the ceiling and the chairs, for those of us not fortunate enough to have a cabin, are arranged in neat rows of seven. They are leather, much like those back in the steam carriage, but with a wooden (perhaps oak?) frame and armrest.

All in all, this seems to be very much like a manor house that some bright spark decided to fix an engine to. And I can’t help but feel extremely privileged to be traveling in such a fine vessel.

“Now, children, you are to stay by my side and remain seated for the entire duration of the journey, unless you need the toilet, of course.” Calink’s monotone voice scrawls out, ruining my fancying of this being the perfect trip and reminding me of, well, everything. “Just remember that these people are civilised, so for the love of all that is holy, please do not show me up.”

“But isn’t being seen with us vermin showing you up in itself?” I smirk, taking utmost pleasure in the way that Calink clearly has to bite down on his lower lip in order to keep his mouth in check amongst such fine people. “Please, the only rat around here is you.”

Calink looks very much scandalised and I glance down to Franklin, who is holding my hand limply, feeling a strong sense of satisfaction at the giggle he makes at my words. But then his honey eyes are lost to the crowds, his mind busying itself with taking in all of this stunning strangeness with a burning curiosity illuminating his midnight pupils. I watch with amusement as his eyes fixate on the Nose Lady, for that is what I have dubbed her, and he looks bemusedly at her, as though trying to understand some impossible puzzle.

I am sat in between the two, not through any choice of my own but rather through necessity; I wouldn’t trust Calink to sit next to my brother if my own life depended on it. Calink leans forward in his chair and glares along at Franklin, the young boy too busy gawking at Nose Lady to take notice of Calink’s disgust. Although I know I should encourage more couth behaviour within my baby brother, I cannot deny that the fact he is so blatantly ignoring Calink is filling me with a sense of joyous pride that only Franklin can install upon me.

“Stop staring, brat!”

Franklin quickly falls back in his seat, head snapping to look at Calink with pleading eyes and a pout adorning his lips. I smirk to myself; my brother isn’t going to give up that easily, perhaps a side-effect of spending a little too much of his time with me.

“But her nose!” Franklin gasps, appearing to be both awed and confused, pointing animatedly at Nose Lady. “I wonder if she’d let me touch it!”

Before either Calink or myself can respond to that ridiculous thought, Franklin is out of his chair and bounding towards the woman, who is stood next to a nearby window. My heart plummets through my stomach, puncturing my lungs on its way down and robbing me of all breath; there are so many people, anyone could take him, could steal away my baby brother!

“Franklin!”

Without waiting for some backhanded comment from Calink’s callous mouth, I jump to my feet and nearly stumble over the alien feeling of such a slippery, fine surface beneath the thin heels of my boots. Gathering my balance, I start to stride towards where my brother is trying desperately to approach the woman, the surging torrent of people walking through into the cabin halls making it a near-impossibility for the scrawny boy.

I make it to the end of the row of seats without much hassle seeing as most of the row is still void of occupants, it’s only when I reach the main flow of people that I encounter a problem; Franklin is caught in the middle of them, looking heartbreakingly scared and disorientated, yet I cannot reach him without cutting into the intimidating wave of aristocrats and metal.

“Franklin, hold on, I’m coming!” I yell over the excited ‘oo’s and ‘ah’s of the people exploring the airship, tears threatening to fall at the sight of my brother looking so utterly terrified and lost. “Just stay there!”

I stick a foot out as though testing the waters, preparing to plunge into the madness of rushing people, when I hear a high-pitched yelp; Franklin! Sure enough, when I look back to where he was but mere seconds ago, he is gone. My eyes dart around manically, my legs turning to willows beneath my quaking body.

“Franklin!” I all but scream, the sound tearing through my throat like a pirouetting bullet leaving the barrel of a gun, my feeling of pure terror being conveyed through the sheer desperation of my shout.

I feel a tap on my shoulder, making me look up and away from the crowds more through reflex than choice.

“Excuse me Miss, but I believe that this belongs to you.”

A man, maybe a boy, is stood in front of me, my brother riding on his shoulders like I used to do with my father back before life showed me it’s true colours. This isn’t an ordinary boy though; at least, he doesn’t look like any boy I’ve ever seen before. He looks to be stepping between the thresholds of childhood and manhood, with a slight yet muscular body that towers a head-and-a-half or so above my own. He looks like us, as though he doesn’t belong with all of these people who lost all humanity they once had years ago. No metal, something that makes me like him immediately. His warm smile does that too, as does the way his moss-green eyes glimmer in the somewhat dim lighting of the room.

Just as I realise I am staring at the boy, man, he bellows out one of the most obnoxious laughs I have ever had the misfortune to hear, thus shattering all angelic illusions his appearance may have once given. The voluminous laughter causes his lightly-spiked black hair to shiver on his head as it shakes and forces his pale skin to burn in amusement.

“I do not see what you are finding so funny, Sir.”

I want to wince at how Calink-like I sound but then shake that thought away; Calink is a bastard and I myself really do not mind being a bastard too when the situation calls for it. And I think being laughed at by a stupidly beautiful boy holding onto my brother is most certainly a situation that does.

“You think I’m pretty.” The boy chuckles, eyes widening in a way that tells me he fully agrees with the statement. There’s an accent to his voice, one that I immediately recognise as being American, perhaps from New York, and it somehow only adds to his annoyingly undeniable charm. “Ah, typical Brit. No fun.”

He slides my brother down his back before placing him carefully on the ground next to me, pausing to ruffle his hair as though Franklin is his baby brother.  

“Typical Yank. Cocky wanker.”

I feel a tiny little paw slip into my own hand, making me look down at Franklin whose eyes are huge and tear-filled. Poor thing must have been terrified; trapped in between so many strange people, then being picked up, practically kidnapped, by this stupid American. Without even caring that his rescuer is still standing before us, I drop to my knees and hold Franklin close, refusing to let go lest he disappear again.

“Y’know, you can thank me whenever you feel like it.” An arrogant, accented voice chips in, the tone of it forcing me to look up at it’s owner, demanding my attention in a way that forces my mind to work against me and give in to the towering American. I stand up and cross my arms over my chest, Franklin scurrying to hide behind me. “Hey! I just saved his ass, the least you owe me is a-a…” He looks me up and down, not unkindly, and the act makes me blush. The most worrying thing about it, however, is the fact that I have to fight off a smile whilst he is doing so. “Yeah, I think you owe me a kiss.”

“Piss off.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’ then.” He seems undeterred, still smiling that annoyingly charming smirk of his. Like a bloody Cheshire cat. “What about your name? I think you owe me that much.”

I think the question over, turning the words around and searching for a threat behind them, for any real reason to not respond. Sure, this boy just saved my little brother but can I really trust such arrogance and self-assuredness?

My eyes analyse his form; the way his laces are undone, how his crinkled white shirt is un-tucked and the buttons of his brown waistcoat undone, not to mention the state of his midnight navy tie. I savour the way my gaze makes him burn as though my eyes provide him with some kind of special friction, the way it makes him shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other, as though he is standing on white-hot coals. So self-assured, yet so shy at the same time; it tickles my heart and that, along with his blatantly well-rehearsed look of vulnerability, makes me decide to trust him, if only with my name.

“Julianna.” I say, daring to offer the boy a guarded smile. It seems to be enough for him though, as he returns it with a blinding beam of his own. “My name is Julianna Roberta Beckstein. Not Anna or Ann. Not Ju or Juli. Just Julianna.”

“Well, Just Julianna, my English rose, it is a pleasure to meet you.” He tosses me a wink, one that buries itself far deeper into my skin than I would like. “I am Roderick Smithery.” All of a sudden, Roderick falls to one knee and reaches out a tentative hand to where my brother is hiding behind me. “What about you, little guy?”

“He’s-“

“I’m Franklin!” He chirps out, apparently deciding that this stranger, that Roderick is worthy of his trust. “I’m Franklin and did you see that lady with the funny nose? I wanted to go touch it but all of the stupid people got in my way!”

The giggle that springs from my lips at that is unavoidable and this time Roderick’s laughter doesn’t sound all that obnoxious, just maybe a little bit sweet or wistful. I look down to Franklin, smiling to myself when I see his eyes sparkling at the exciting prospect of making such an exotic new friend.

“Yeah, they seem to do that a lot, don’t they?” The American smirks, making Franklin laugh as the man stands back up to his full height. “Well, it has been a pleasure, Miss Julianna and Master Franklin, but I must go to my cabin now. Take-off’s in a couple of minutes, I think.” He braces himself to head back into the madness of the crowd, his smirk still plastered to his face. “See you around!”

And with that, the tall American is gone. Leaving me with a smiling baby brother and a heart pounding too fast for reasons that I dare not look into.


*****

“Please ensure that your seatbelts are fastened for take-off and that all robotic, clockwork or any other kind of synthetic alteration is set on flight-mode.” A too-friendly, almost smarmy, female force calls through the speakers. She sounds like she could be the voice actress of one of those spoilt princesses that always get their way in those stupid cartoon films from yesteryear. “Remember to remain seated until the red light at the front of the room turns green and then you are free to do as you please, but we ask that you stay out of storage and the overnight cabin area unless you have a pass. Many thanks and, on behalf of Pleasure Cruise Airships, I wish you an enjoyable voyage.”

I feel something shift beneath my feet, as though the flooring is falling away from beneath me, and the slow, scratching sound of the engine being awoken makes my heart judder forward in my chest. A feeling of anxiousness consumes me, although I must admit that the feeling isn’t all that unwelcome for with it comes a kind of sensation that I imagine those discovering strange, beautiful worlds become overwhelmed with.

“Anna!”

“My name i- Oh.” I cut myself off, swallowing whatever half-hearted spite was brewing in my throat and look down at the source of the whimpered cry; Franklin. “Don’t be scared, little brother. We’re going on an adventure!”

It takes every shred of determination that I have in order to actually sound as excited as the child within me feels. I tentatively reach out and take Franklin’s hand in my own, squeezing it gently in a silent reminder that nothing can ever happen to him as long as I am right here with him because I would die first.

He shifts awkwardly in his too-big seat, fiddling with the buckle of his seatbelt as though contemplating escape. The thought alone rattles me to the core and back again; the thought of him being lost again, without any kind of protection against the harshness of our metallic world, setting my heart on overtime.

“B-but what if the airship crashes?” He squeaks out, looking to be as pitifully afraid of his own words as I am of losing him. “What if you can’t protect me, Anna? What i-“

“And what if you two vermin just shut the hell up?” Calink chuckles darkly, the sound making my blood boil to such an intensity that it turns to steam in my veins and evaporates the last of my patience. “Bloody brats.”

“Hey! He’s just a scared little boy.” I hiss, turning to face the man on my other side, my tone low and dangerous, like the resolute ticking of a bomb. “A child. An orphan. I would have thought that a gentleman of your calibre would understand that.”

Calink rolls his eyes, in a ‘here-we-go-again’ kind of way and this only serves to ignite my fury even further. Can’t he, a man of the council for God’s sakes, see that my baby brother is just being a scared child and, that after everything he has been through, very much has the right to be so? Of course Franklin has the right to be frightened, we all do, yet that can do nothing to stop me from despising it as a mouse does a cat; two natural and eternal enemies.

“Anna, what does calibre mean?” Franklin asks innocently, once again reminding me of his urgent need to just be protected. “A-and I’m not scared! I’m a big boy!”

“Be quiet, Franklin.” I huff down at him, my eyes still locked on Calink like a sniper on its target. “What’s that, have nothing witty to say, Calink?”

“I doubt you would find my wit to your liking, child. Nor do I think that your mind could comprehend it nor your vile ways allow yourself to find it humorous.” His lips quirk upwards and start tugging insistently at my last nerve. I blink at him, slowly, trying to simply breathe out my anger lest I make a show of myself; I’m sure Calink would just love that. “What’s wrong? Do you need me to speak slower? Or is my vocabulary just too challenging for your mind to get a grasp of?”

Franklin’s eyes shine, head leaning forward and looking very much like a spectator around a wrestling ring. Of course, being my brother, he knows me well enough to understand that I don’t simply back down when someone insults me or him. And he also knows that I almost always come out victorious, leaving my challenger with nothing by the shredded tatters of their ego.

Well, far be it for me to disappoint.

“I do believe that you are right, Mr Calink.” I smile at him sweetly, so sweetly that it is obvious the act is bitter. “I cannot find it within myself to appreciate your wit. Just as I doubt you can appreciate mine. You see, us vermin do not always see eye-to-eye with dogs.”

“I cannot think of what you could possibly be implying, Miss Julianna.” He snarls, the tone sending me a perfectly clear warning.

A warning that I choose to ignore. Not that it was even a choice, of course; after all, this is simply a matter of pride.

“And you have the nerve to insult my intelligence!” I let out a single shot of laughter, the sound ringing out around the room like a ricocheting bullet. “I am not implying anything, sir. I am simply stating that you are a dog and, for all that you act like your very presence is a gift to the world, every second I spend near you makes my skin crawl.”

A smug feeling of satisfaction seeps into my skin at the flustered look on his face, the way he’s just gawping, looking as though he is drowning in air, yet finding nothing to say no matter how hard he looks.

“Anna?” I look down at Franklin, too pleased with myself to be annoyed at his use of my nickname. “I think you broke him.”

“I can assure you that she has done no such thing, boy.” Calink growls, sounding very much as though he would be strangling me right now if it was not for his seatbelt strapping him to his seat as the airship slowly but surely gains altitude. Not that I would let him; I doubt a man like him has ever had to run in his life, it would be no contest. “However, Miss Julianna, your words wound me. Here I am, a good worker for the council aiding you in your voyage to a better life and all you can think to do is insult me.” A wicked sheen dilates his pupils, making him look like a snake and forcing my hold on Franklin’s hand to tighten tenfold. “You do realise that I, as your case worker, could have you two separated. Say that young Franklin here is developing dangerous dependency issues upon you and that you are cracking under the pressure.”

As cliché as it may sound, my heart stops. And then it starts again, hammering so hard against my chest that I’m half afraid that it will pound straight out of my weak veil of pale skin. The thought of losing Franklin, of him losing me, makes me feel physically sick; like tearing him away would be synonymous with tearing my lungs out.

“You can’t!”

“Oh, can I not?” He shakes his head, the cruel smirk painted on his lips making me feel very much like a kicked puppy. “Did you yourself not say, Julianna, that one needs to lack a will in order for them to not be able to do something?” I swallow, my mouth turning into a desert at the threat of separation from my baby brother, from my home. “Well, I can tell you that I sincerely do have the will as well as the means. So I think you will find that I very much can.”

Icy words of retaliation bite on the tip of my tongue, fighting to break free and put this unimaginable bastard in his place. But before I can say anything against my aggressor, the red light over the corridor leading to the lounging area of the airship pings and fades through yellow to green.

Franklin’s shaking next to me, eyes dead and hollow as though Calink has just sucked the life straight out of them.

“It’s alright, Franklin, he was just joking.” I glare at Calink and he visibly recoils, looking like a cat with its tail caught in a door. “Weren’t you?”

“Of course I was. But only, my dear Julianna, if you were.”


*****

I groan as I feel my legs cramping up, my body stifled by the meagre legroom bestowed upon me by my third-class ticket. It has only been three hours yet it already feels as though my legs have walked away from my body, leaving just an unpleasant tingling sensation as their replacement. I would have been walking around, marvelling the stunningly intricate design of the Titania and its numerous passengers, but I cannot; Calink forbade it in some stupid form of revenge.

Of course Calink himself has been moving freely throughout the ship’s different compartments and blending in like the rat that he is. Normally, I would just ignore his dictations and do as I please but this time I dare not. The thing that makes this any different to any other time that I have been given orders is the fact that he truly does have the power to take Franklin, my baby brother, away from me.

And I would not put it past him to do so.

Bastard.

“Julianna?”

“Go to sleep, Franklin.” I sigh back in response, resigning myself to defeat and knowing that it is all I can tell my brother to do in order to keep up some sense of normality. For all of my freedom I might as well be on a slave ship. “Please. For me.”

“B-but-“

“Franklin!” I yelp at him, the pressure and pain and petulance getting under my skin and breaking free in the form of a furious shout-whisper; it is late, after all, and I doubt that these are the kind of people to take kindly to being woken up by two quarrelling children. “Just. Go. To. Sleep.”

“But, Anna, my legs are hurting!”

I want to sigh at him, one of those troublesome sighs that an overrun teacher often produces, and just forget that my brother is in pain; I want to, just for this one blessed time, worry about myself instead. I cannot bring myself to do such a thing, though. Not to Franklin, never to my innocent baby brother. The baby brother that only has me left in the world, just as I only have him.

Instead my sigh comes out soft, understanding and a tad sympathetic, letting him know that I can empathise with his pain but am unable to do anything to rectify it. In return I expect him to let out a hum of acceptance, perhaps a nod, and then return to ogling at all of the strange sights that his young eyes have been drowning in since our arrival on the Titania.

Franklin does not, however, react as expected. He lets out a high-pitched whine of protest and stamps his feet on the floor childishly, the action earning us a sharp glare from the old man sat in front of us, one that I of course return with double the venom. My brother wriggles in his seat, the movement so vigorous that I can feel it making my own chair shake slightly, and crosses his arms over his lap, pouting in a way that I would find adorable if it wasn’t so despairing.

“I want to explore, Julianna!” He drawls indignantly, acting as though I am his oppressor even though he knows that I would let him run around to his heart’s content if it were up to me. Then he points down at his legs, frowning. “And my legs have gone all tingly.”

“Pins and needles.” I inform him, running a hand through his hair in a way that only doesn’t annoy him when I do it. “My legs have gone like that too, don’t worry. We’ll be allowed to walk around soon enough.”

I hope.

“Then why don’t we go exploring!”

“Because that wanker won’t let us.” I huff, jerking my thumb in the direction of Calink’s seat, the one, regrettably, next to my own. At my expletive I see Franklin’s eyes go wide and he stares at me as though I’ve just committed a cardinal sin. “Now, now, Franklin. Swearing isn’t bad when the situation requires it. But that doesn’t mean I want to hear such language ever coming from you.”

I despise this, having to sound so motherly. It is like a cattle prod, poking into my wounds and reminding me that I have to be like this because our mother is gone. The thought forces me to suck in a sharp breath, as though my sorrow is stealing the oxygen away from me and turning my insides into a void vacuum. Void of all parental care, love, home.

“Anna?”

I blink, wincing as I feel something wet sliding sluggishly down my cheek. I cannot allow myself to be weak in front of Franklin, for that would not be fair to him; he needs to know that I am strong, that I can take care of him no matter what.

“My name is Julianna.” It comes out automatically, a shield to hide everything that isn’t normal about this situation.

“I know.” He whispers, sounding how he should never sound; forlorn, submissive to the injustices that life has forced upon his fragile form. “Julianna. Why are you crying?”

“I am doing nothing of the sort, little brother.” I smile to demonstrate the point, although we can both tell that there is no truth in either the gesture or my words. “Some dust must have gone in my eye, making them water or something. But I can assure you, that I most certainly was not crying.”

“Then let’s explore!”

“You know we can’t, Franklin.” I hate having to let him down, I really do, but it is not like I have any other choice in the situation. “Calink-“

“Is asleep!”

Impulsively, I turn around in my seat to see if my brother’s statement is, indeed, correct. I am met with a less than attractive sight; Calink with his snakelike eyes scrunched shut, mouth hanging open wider than a beggar’s bowl, a spot of dribble winding down his chin and snoring with the same drawling annoyance of a beeping life-support machine.  I laugh at how stupid, how common he looks; not so superior now, are we?

“Yes, it would appear that he is.” I smile devilishly, an idea formulating in my head. “And I suppose what he does not know will not hurt him.”

Franklin’s face lights up like a firework on New Year’s; lips blossoming into the fullest smile I have seen him give all week. I don’t know whether to laugh or to cry at such a simple thing giving my brother so much precious pleasure.

“Does this mean we’re going exploring?” He all but squeals, clapping his hands together excitedly. “Does it? Does it!”

“It means, little brother, that we are going for a brisk walk to air the cobwebs. Nothing more, nothing less.”


*****


“Franklin!” I yell at my brother’s retreating back, watching him scamper down the deserted corridor of overnight cabin rooms. Thinking back to the earlier announcement at take-off, a shock of dread spikes through me at the thought of what could happen to us if we are caught here without a pass. “Get back here right this instant!”

Franklin, as all children when receiving unwelcome instructions, seems to develop a quick case of selective hearing. Thus meaning that he continues running, following the signs for the animal storage hold, his love of all things fluffy getting the best of him.

I grab the overflowing crimson skirt of my dress and hitch it up, fully prepared to sprint after my baby brother before he can get himself into some serious trouble. It is, of course, at this precise moment that the heel of my left boot decides to twist, making me flail around for something to hold onto with which I can rectify my balance. As luck would have it, I find nothing and go crashing to the ground in a heap of voluminous fabric and spindly limbs.

One small blessing, however, is the fact that the flooring of this part of the ship is rich red carpeting as opposed to the main seating area’s harsh marble. I snap my head up, just in time to see Franklin disappearing down another a corridor, giggling like the crazed little boy that he is.

Then it hits me; singing.

I can hear singing. The most beautifully stunning singing that has ever graced my ears is floating through the air from behind one of the cabin doors. I can’t make out any words, only perfectly held notes forming the pattern of a song that could make angels stop their work in order to pause and listen.

Slowly, so as not to make myself tumble down again, I rise to my feet and follow the sound, bound by the angelic notes forcing me to find their source, all thoughts of my ‘exploring’ little brother momentarily pushed to the back of my mind. I take one step, two, three, in the direction of the mesmerising noise, searching as though a lost soul for the source of the song.

After all of six-and-a-half steps, I reach a mahogany door; the singing is at its loudest here. I can tell that it is a male voice and that the voice knows full well of its own grandeur, yet the cockiness of the tone does not mar its sweetness in the slightest. I think that the voice might be American, at least that’s what it sounds to be like; the way the edges of the notes curl in on themselves, that distinctive clip of accent.

I press myself against the door, pawing at it and hoping to get closer to the creator of my enchantment. I am not entirely sure why I must find it, just that I have to; perhaps my strong sense of justice is urging me to find it, to congratulate it on such beauty.

All of a sudden, I feel the door give way from where my body is leaning on it and I let out a snatched shriek of a sound as I fall to the floor once more.

But this isn’t the floor of the corridor, oh no, it is the floor of the cabin. I am sprawled out on the plush carpet of some poor man’s cabin; god, I must look a sight. I keep my head down on the floor, hating the abrupt halt to the singing, just hoping that the man (or boy) is kind enough to let me go without any trouble.

I hear a chuckle, a cocky but charming chuckle that makes my skin tingle.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Just Julianna.”