Chapter Text
Hikoshi turned the two papers in her hand over and over again, looking at it from multiple angles as if some hidden meaning would present itself. She had no luck, of course. The diagrams explained how to take care of the propello, and the engine that powered it, but nothing about why. It was a maintenance manual that contained all the justifications of a religious text: all instruction, no reasoning.
If it wasn’t for the complication added by the engine she would have been done with her supply list hours ago. The rationale for it was fairly simple, something she’d helped prepare a hundred times, even if this was to be her first scouting mission. She was traveling with two Hunters, so she’d gone light on rations in favor of a sturdier stock of medical supplies, and because she was apparently expected to be mapping their course she’d allotted herself a desk and several tall stacks of paper. The rest of her supply requests were routine, if a little bit on the cautious side. The only wrench in her plans came from a single line at the bottom of her instructions.
Coal? Hundreds of pounds of it? Nearly half of their allotted cargo weight had been earmarked for the black fuel, and it wasn’t like she couldn’t have thought of a different use for the space. She’d known that steam engines were fueled by the stuff, but she’d never encountered one herself. The only thing she’d heard the noisy contraptions being used for was printing presses and mining pumps. Maybe something with mills as well, if she really searched her memory for it, but an airship? It seemed ludicrous.
But if the capabilities outlined on the second page weren’t exaggerated, she could see how it would be worth it. Being untethered from the wind by any degree, no matter how slight, would be revolutionary. It would completely change the prospective location of future colonies, trade routes, and the importance of airships as a whole. The specifications of this design wouldn’t let her ignore currents entirely, but it would still make navigation far easier than it had ever been. It was almost enough to make her glad to have the untested and unfamiliar machine aboard.
Almost.
Sumi had split off with Souta for the rest of the day, going to talk to the various Hunters around town who had experienced the same kind of attacks that they were set to investigate. That left Hikoshi free for the day to tear her hair out on her own, and she was fairly certain she was going to be bald before nightfall. Hopefully Sumi wouldn’t mind.
Eventually even the repair work on the Listless wasn’t enough to drown out her pacing and constant irritated grumbles, and she got the impression from the rest of the crew that it would be best for her to find somewhere else to stress. She descended the ship with the notes carefully rolled up into her pocket, deciding to wander the streets until a better idea occurred to her.
It wasn’t like the engine was going to make or break the mission, she supposed. The scout ship was similar enough in dimension and specification to what she’d expected to pilot, only with far less room to make use of. If worse came to worst she could just shove the entire lot off the side and fly it the old-fashioned way, expensive prototype be damned. When they complained to her she could tell them that if they’d wanted it back they should have sent an engineer.
That thought calmed her, at least. It wasn’t like the quest depended entirely on her understanding of the engine. It just depended entirely on her ability to pilot the ship through uncharted lands, which was at the very least the impossible challenge she’d been expecting originally.
Her mental meanderings were interrupted by her physical meandering leading her past a book shop. The signs in the window promised low prices and excellent print quality, which gave her an idea. She dipped into the store, the door ringing a bell above her head. A clerk looked up from the book he’d been reading in mild surprise, quickly swiping it under the desk while plastering a practiced smile onto his face.
“Hello! Welcome to Juyodendai Bookstore, ma’am. Are you looking for anything in particular?”
“Sort of, I guess. Are you the owner?”
“No ma’am, just the son of the owner, but I can answer any questions all the same. What are you looking for?”
Hikoshi glanced around the cramped shop, where shelves had been stuffed into every available space. “I was actually wondering how your books were made. I’ve heard some places have started to use steam-powered printing presses?”
His otherwise implacable smile faltered somewhat. This wasn’t in his usual repertoire of customer service questions and answers. “Um, well, yes, most shops these days are, I believe. They’re much cheaper, allowing us to sell at the affordable prices that surely beckoned you into our establishment. Why do you ask?”
Hikoshi opened her mouth to answer, then paused. Was the scouting ship she was being given charge of supposed to be secret? It was a brand new prototype, per the instructions, and had been built at no small expense. She decided that since old Grouchy hadn’t told her to keep it under wraps she didn’t really give a shit, and pulled the papers out of her pocket.
“I’m supposed to be piloting a ship that carries a steam engine, and I’ve got no damn idea what to do with the thing. These two pieces of paper are all I have to go off of, so I was hoping to find someone in Narrowstrait that knew more about it than I did.”
The first genuine expression she’d seen from the clerk revealed itself as his customer-facing smile slipped away, replaced by a scrutinous curiosity. Hikoshi held up the papers for him to see, but didn’t set them on the table. She was told to be careful with them, and that had been one piece of advice she wholeheartedly agreed with.
The clerk, though he couldn’t have been more than thirty, unfolded a pair of spectacles from a drawer beneath his desk. He leaned close to the papers, mouth moving as he scanned the labels and descriptions of the designs.
“My word…” He muttered, entranced. “You certainly have your work cut out for you, don’t you?”
“Glad someone else sees the problem. We’re set to leave tomorrow, so do you know where I can go for some advice?”
He blinked as if clearing away mental cobwebs, straightening once more. He started to answer her before a thought appeared to occur to him, and he came out from behind the counter. Hikoshi didn’t like the mercantile glean in his eye.
“Well, yes, certainly, but may I make my own recommendation?” He plucked a book from a shelf, holding it out to her. “‘ Fate of Steam ’ by Joki Akanishin. A speculative guide to upcoming uses of steam power, presented in a narrative format by one of the most well-informed authors among those presently alive.”
Hikoshi eyed the book. It was of average size, average length, and had a simple title font printed on the common brown cover. She was almost certain that she’d seen more unexceptional books before, but they’d naturally never stuck in her mind to be remembered.
“No thank you,” Hikoshi declined. “I was just hoping for directions to the printing press you purchase from.”
“Ah, such a shame,” The clerk mourned, placing the book back on the shelf. He turned towards her, meeting her eyes. Silently.
“Oh, come on.” Hikoshi put her hands on her hips. The clerk’s implacable smile returned. “You’re really going to do this?” She asked him. He twitched his head in the slightest nod of confirmation possible. She sighed. “How much is it?”
“For you, ma’am, only fifteen pieces.”
“I’ve bribed captains for less than that.”
“Must have been some awfully destitute captains, ma’am.”
Hikoshi suppressed her snort. She didn’t want to respect the man’s snark. “Alright, fine. But if I go there and don’t find anything I’m coming back to have my Hunter girlfriend shove this book down your throat.”
“I assure you, ma’am, that I wouldn’t lie to a faithful customer.” He accepted her change, handing her the book in turn. “And for what it’s worth, by the way, I really do believe the book could be of some help to you. At the very least, I found it entertaining.”
“I’m really not expecting to be bored on this trip, but I’ll keep it in mind. Maybe it won’t end up in a fireplace this evening.”
His face twitched at the mention of burning the book, but his professional demeanor won over. He gave her directions to the printing press his family bought most of their books from, even giving her his family’s name to hopefully get her through the front door.
Hikoshi walked through the streets with the book disdainfully tucked into her waistband, trying not to think about the fact that she’d referred to Sumi as her girlfriend. Sure, it had been to make a threat more effective, but the word held too much weight for her to be comfortable with after only three sort-of-dates. She decided the most prudent course was to not mention it to anyone ever again, and try her best to forget about it herself.
The printing press wasn’t far, but it wasn’t recognizable, either. She nearly walked past it twice before she finally spotted the small sign hung above a plain door, labeled only ‘Printer Warehouse’. The only exceptional thing about it was the fact that there was a sizable gap between the entrance to the printing shop and the next closest doors on either side, implying a large interior space. All the shades were drawn in the bottom floor windows, so she couldn’t peek in.
She walked up to the door and knocked loudly, taking a step back when she noted the hinges placed on the outside of the door. Sure enough, the door swung outward a moment later, violently enough that it would have knocked her off the steps. A woman, dressed in clothes too fine to be as ink-stained as they were, leaned out, squinting through the sunlight.
“Canni help ya?” She asked, blinking at Sumi.
“Adamat family sent me your way on account of some questions I had. Mind if I come in off the street?”
The woman blinked further, then shrugged a shoulder and retreated back into the darker interior. She left the door open, which Hikoshi took as an invitation to enter.
It took her a moment for her eyes to adjust to the gloom, the only light in the room coming from the glass roof above. It would have been brighter if the glass hadn’t been caked in smoke stains.
She’d expected a reception room, somewhere for deals to be discussed and hammered out, and she supposed she found it after a fashion. It consisted of a single desk, though, with a chair in front and behind, and the open warehouse floor spreading out in every direction otherwise. The hiss and clank of machinery wasn’t deafening, but the pounding and erratic nature of it was distracting in the extreme. She could see three printing presses on the shop floor, each operated by a team of six or seven sweaty employees. Piles and piles of blank paper occupied most of the far wall of the warehouse, mirrored by the piles of unbound but printed paper that took up the closer side. Rather ominously, considering the flammability of the building’s contents, was the soot that soaked the stone walls. She noticed that the gloom was also present on account of the total lack of torches or lamps, and wondered how recently that particular quirk of the building had been introduced. Some lessons were learned the hard way, she supposed.
The woman sat down behind the desk, gesturing for Hikoshi to sit across from her. She did so, pulling the rolled-up papers from her pocket so they wouldn’t be bent as she sat.
“So,” the woman began. “Adamats gottem a new hire, sent you to iron out a deal?”
“Absolutely not. I don’t know anything about Adamat senior, but you’d have to bring a knife to my throat to lock me up in a shop with the junior. And besides, a stuffy room like that all day, every day?” Hikoshi shuddered. “No thank you. What I’m here for is some last-minute advice.”
“Advice ain’t something we sell. Prints are a hundredth piece a page for standard settings, anything else is more. Minimum five hundred piece price for any run, on account of the setup time involved, and that’s not negotiable.”
“Then I’m way too broke for this industry, sorry to say.” The woman started to get up from the table, heading back to the printing presses. Hikoshi held up a hand, freezing her. “Wait, hold on. I’ve just got a few questions, alright?”
“Every minute of daylight we ain’t printing is money we ain’t making, girlie. Don’t do small talk here.”
“Clearly,” Hikoshi muttered under her breath, before clearing her throat and speaking up. “I can make it worth your time. You print newspapers, yeah? I’ve got you a story you can charge them for, and I’m the only one that has it.”
The woman ground her teeth, looking back at the presses. By Hikoshi’s estimation the crews didn’t look like they were in desperate need of an extra set of hands, and it seemed the woman agreed. She reluctantly sat back down and extended a hand.
“Name’s Sagi Adamat. Yours?”
Hikoshi shook the offered hand, barely conscious of the ink stains that transferred to her palm. Airship work was dirty. “Hikoshi. And you’re an Adamat?”
Sagi harrumphed. “Yep. Family business from the print to the shop. Though I’ll be honest, half the reason we’re still talking is because you trash talked my brother.”
Hikoshi smirked. “Glad I never had any siblings. Never seems to go well.”
Sagi acknowledged her comment with a dry exhale, then leaned forward. “So. Marketable story?”
Hikoshi unraveled the papers, setting them on the table. Sagi reached for them, but Hikoshi immediately pulled them back, which stilled her hands.
“Tomorrow I’m going to be a pilot on a Guild airship, the first one in the world sporting a steam engine aboard. We’re investigating some kind of mess that’s been brewing, something about Monsters coming in from parts they shouldn’t be. Problem is, I’ve never seen a steam engine in my life, and I’m about to be the sole person responsible for a very expensive one for the next few months. Everything you can tell me about keeping one maintained, I need to know.”
Sagi leaned back in her chair as Hikoshi talked, gazing into the middle distance. “Alright. That’s a story, I’ll give ya that. But everything I know is more than you’ve got time to listen to, and more time than I’m willing to spend on it. Convince me your story’s worth it.”
Hikoshi made a face. “How would I know? I’m not a reporter. I’ve hardly even read the papers. You’re the expert.”
“You’re not good at negotiating, neither.”
“I just want to not blow myself up, alright? Looking at your place here,” Hikoshi waved to the ashen walls and windows. “That seems to be a legitimate concern. Airship crews never lift off without a plan to get back down, and I don’t intend to break that tradition tomorrow. Find out how much the story’s worth and give me some pointers.”
Sagi grumbled something under her breath that sounded awfully close to ‘ damn morals ’ and stood up from her chair, heading for the door. Hikoshi got up to follow her, but Sagi gestured for her to stay put.
“Just going to grab someone. I’ll be back in five. Keep yourself entertained from that chair and nowhere else or you won’t get a word from me.”
Hikoshi settled back down as Sagi stepped out of the door. As the door shut behind her she caught a brief glance of the woman breaking into a sudden sprint, ink-stained dress trailing out behind her.
She really does hate wasting time, doesn’t she?
Hikoshi waited less-than patiently, bouncing her knee against the bottom of the desk as she watched the printers work. Sheets of paper were placed by one employee while another operated a lever, pulling it down when the paper was in place. A plate of letters was pressed into the paper, leaving an impression of a full page of text in an instant. Releasing the lever let the plate raise back up, where the mechanism automatically dipped itself into ink to refresh the marks for the next paper.
Only one of the three presses, the one farthest from her, was fully automated. That one seemed newer, with a great number of whirling parts that she couldn’t identify the full purposes of. It grabbed paper from a hopper, printed onto it, and slipped it away without a single touch from an employee. All the workers had to do were take away the freshly printed pages and ensure the mechanism didn’t run out of blanks. Ironically, she noted, the increased speed of the machine meant that the same number of employees were required to operate it, if only to keep up with the constant demands of paper.
Sagi returned, throwing open the door and ushering a contradictorily unassuming man inside. His presence and demeanor were completely unremarkable, but he came in wearing a particularly ornate assortment of the silks that were in fashion in Narrowstrait, brightly colored and garish. He would have been taller than Sagi and Hikoshi by a decent measure if he didn’t stoop so low, obviously uncomfortable with the filthy environment. He crinkled his nose as he lifted the hem of his dress that would have touched the floor, keeping it well clear of the offending dirt.
“This is her,” Sagi told him. “Girlie, tell him what you told me and nothing else.”
Hikoshi frowned, but repeated her words for him verbatim. At the mention of invasive Monsters his eyes widened. He dropped his dress to the floor, slipping a board stacked with pieces of paper from beneath his robes. He slipped on a single thin black glove, then pulled a stick of writing charcoal from a protected package and leaned closer to her.
“How many invasive Monster incidents are you familiar with? I know of five, but have heard a number of unconfirmed rumors. Are you with the Guild? Do you have access to their official records? And this steam engine, it is a novel one, yes? Never before seen? What purpose does it serve on the ship? A mobile printing press, perhaps, to disseminate information more readily to far flung colonies? Or--”
Sagi reached out, threatening to put an inky hand on his shoulder. That was enough to get him recoiling from the touch, interrupting his torrent of questions.
“That’s enough, Tantei. I know the story is worth something now.”
“Worth something? This girl could save me a month’s work in ten minutes! You must let me speak to her.”
“She’s on a tight timetable. How much is a half-hour interview worth?”
“A half hour?” The man, apparently called Tantei, looked like a kicked puppy. Sagi didn’t budge. He sighed. “I can assure you at least the relevant runs will be paid at half again the usual rate, Sagi. If I could have more time, it would be-”
Hikoshi cut him off. She didn’t mean to be rude, but the timid man was just… supremely interruptible. “If you’re gonna take up an hour of my time then you don’t get anything. Tight schedule, remember? Half hour or nothing.”
“I understand, but-”
“Half again the usual rate?” Sagi butted in. He didn’t even blink at the third interruption, long since used to the treatment. “You’re not in charge of anything, Tantei. How can you guarantee me a hundred and fifty percent?”
He huffed, tapping his papers rapidly. “Ms. Adamat, you brought me in specifically because I’m poor at hiding my excitement and thus make an ideal candidate to negotiate prices with. I don’t intend to beat around the bush in this matter, something your associate here will surely appreciate considering her impatience, so I decided to simply cut the faff from the conversation and offer you the maximum amount I’m confident I can extract from my employers. Any more and you risk them backing out on the deal after I’ve received my information, which would be pointless for you and lose me a future source of information. Now, if I may move on to the questioning?”
Hikoshi whistled low. His stooped posture hadn’t straightened in the slightest, but the man was clearly confident in some regards. Sagi laughed, offering him her chair. He took it, smoothing his papers on the desk, then looked up at Hikoshi.
“Thirty minutes, Tantei.”
“I understand. Now, Ms. Hikoshi? Begin with your account of events, summarized as neatly as possible, if you please. I will ask questions from there.”
Hikoshi did just that, briefly covering the attack on the Listless and subsequent flight from the Tigrex, followed by what she’d overheard in the Guild offices while waiting for Sumi and Souta. She also laid out the diagrams and instructions for the yet-unnamed scout ship, once again wondering if she was supposed to be keeping them under wraps. She’d find out when she got back from the trip, at the very least.
Tantei took notes erratically, at seemingly random moments, without ever looking away from Hikoshi. She noticed that his sentences were curving erratically across the page, occasionally overlapping, but his focus never wavered. Her account of things took only a few minutes to complete, after which he placed his palms flat on the desk and began to ask his questions.
“You say this is the seventh invasive incident known to the Guild in the last two months?”
“According to Guildmaster Harrow, yes.”
“And the investigation is to be headed by a rookie Hunter and low rank Hunter, with only you as their guide?”
“I don’t know if Souta’s a ‘low rank’ or whatever,” Hikoshi clarified. “I just know that Sumi will occasionally give him shit for still being a newbie. Might just be jokes on her part.”
“Hm. And your ship, it is the first of its kind? And it has no name?”
“Again, according to Guildmaster Harrow it is. Said the inventor was a few hundred miles away and no one else knew a thing about it. As for the name, what does that matter?”
“The public enjoys giving a name to their fears, Ms. Hikoshi. Now, do you know which specific species were involved in the other incidents?”
‘Give a name to their fears’? I don’t like the sound of that.
“No, just that there were seven of them, and that their known habitats only overlapped in a few places. Those will be the areas we’re investigating.”
The questions continued on, an endless torrent of increasingly accusatory demands. Hikoshi was uncomfortable with the whole thing, but didn’t stop answering. A half hour was nothing, and she really needed someone to walk her through the basics of a steam engine.
Without warning, in the middle of one of her answers, Tantei stood and began gathering his things. He’d written no more than a page and a half of notes during the entire exchange.
“Our allotted time is up, I’m afraid. Thank you for your cooperation. Ms. Adamat?”
“Hm?” She looked up from her picking underneath her fingernails.
“You could have pressed me for more than half. A good deal more. You two have a pleasant evening now.” He made to leave, but just as he was laying a hand on the door he turned to look back at her. “And good luck to you on your trip, Ms. Hikoshi. More counts on it than you seem to have yet realized. Keep your Hunters focused, and on a tight leash.”
With that he stepped out of the door, once again pulling up his clothes to prevent them from sweeping the cobblestones. Despite the dire warning, Hikoshi only found herself wondering what the purpose of clothes you had to hold at all times was. A reporter seemed like the type that would have a flair for the dramatic, anyway.
“Well!” Sagi said, clapping her hands together. “You just earned me a nice little bonus, girlie, and ya did it in a half hour. Let’s get you learning, yeah?.”
Hikoshi hopped up from the chair, relieved. It was the early afternoon, which left her a good few hours to pester Sagi with questions, but it was nothing next to the continuous months she was soon going to be spending taking care of the engine. This was every last minute crash course ship introduction she’d ever done, multiplied.
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Hikoshi left the printing warehouse as the sun sank, head swimming with information. Gear ratios, flywheels, coal quality and density, pressure gauges, cranks and cogs and the hideous danger of superheated steam’s effect on flesh spiraled behind her eyelids. She’d never been a note taker before, but she’d been forced to take a spare sheet of paper to scrawl down details just to insure she didn’t forget some critical procedure or contingency. Six employees of the Adamat family printing presses had been maimed in as many years by misuse of the machinery, and two more had died in the fire that had stained the building just a few months prior.
She sighed with contention, relaxing as she walked back to the Listless. She was exactly as in over her head as she’d expected from a Guild job.
It was everything she’d ever wanted.