Gunfire: The Airship

The Silver Skies was surprisingly spacious, for a clipper. Wooden crates lined two cargo bays in the side of the ship, while a larger stern bay housed two launches and the larger items of cargo.

"The captain would like to apologise for the mess," the first mate said. "Repairs were only finished yesterday, and the crew have not had time to tidy away everything at this moment."

"This doesn't look like cannon damage," I observed as we passed through a open doorway. The long reinforcing struts running the length of the corridor were fresh, but the stanchions they were attached to were buckled and battered.

"It isn't," came the reply. "The captain took us into the Taran Gorge. Folds ripped us apart."

Ryle raised an eyebrow. We'd been in the Taran Gorge before, on foot. Nightmarish place to take an airship, even this one.

The cabin was efficiently organised, with fold-out furniture and sleeping arrangements. I lay my lone bag in the corner, and was about to take a seat when there was a knock at the door.