Chenda and the Airship Brofman by Emilie P. Bush

but the small space also gleamed with dozens of shiny brass dials, levers, neatly labeled switches and knobs. Fenimore gently leaned against the back of the small space and rested his hands on the helm. He looked through the glass in front of him, watching the light fade in the sky ahead.
    “You love it, don't you?” he said.
    Chenda, surprised and a little confused, stared blankly at the tall man next to her.  She didn't reply.
    Fenimore went on, “People have two reactions when they fly on an airship for the first time. Most folks have a variation on the professor's reaction. They hunker down and just get through it as best as they can. Or, as in her case, they puke.”
    “Oh, no. Poor Candice!”
    “It happens, but I can tell you, the captain really hates it when people barf on his ship.” He snickered a little. He caught Chenda's disapproving gaze and said, “I only get to laugh because I don't have to clean it up. Rank has its privileges.” He smiled again and continued.
    “And, rarely, there are people like you who feel something.” He made a vague yet meaningful gesture over his chest. “Flight is a powerful experience for some lucky few, a changing experience. Do you mind if I ask what just changed for you?”
    “Nearly everything,” she replied. Fenimore looked at her once again, waiting for her to supply more details, but Chenda felt no compulsion to speak about her emptying sensation. The fact that he saw that something was happening to her spirit embarrassed her somehow.  She started to feel as if he had intruded into something very personal and private.  It annoyed her.
    “How long did you stand there staring at me?” she demanded, her voice taking on an uncharacteristic edge.
    “Weeelll,” Fenimore responded, “I stood behind you for about a half hour or so, but to be fair, you were standing in my spot.”
    Chenda felt suddenly foolish. “I apologize. I never wanted to interfere with anyone's duties. Just tell me to 'shoo' if I am in the way.” She bit her lip.
    “Eh, it's not that important. I just need to keep an eye out for certain points for navigation so we can head out over open water in the right place. Speaking of, we're nearly to the coast.”
    Chenda looked out of the wheelhouse and across the bow to see the approaching shore. All her annoyance left her. She'd never seen the ocean before, and she was excited. As she watched, she felt the airship begin to slow. With worried eyes, she turned to Fenimore.
    “What's wrong?”
    “Nothing,” he said, flipping several switches on the instrument panel in front of him and turning several dials. “It's dark, so we're powering down.”
    “Oh.” Chenda still looked very confused.
    The door to the wheelhouse opened, and a very young and rather spotty face poked in. “Captain said I should relieve you now.”
    “Lincoln, meet Chen, Professor Mortimer's assistant. Chen, this is one of our deckhands and sometime engineer's apprentice, Lincoln.”
    The thin, boyish creature who appeared to be made entirely of knees and elbows stepped into the wheelhouse. “Nice to meet you,” he said as he extended a hand to Chenda. She unthinkingly reached back. He gripped her hand and shook it vigorously, which made Chenda yelp. Looking horrified, Lincoln dropped her hand and shuddered backwards.
    “Oh, I'm so sorry, miss,” Lincoln said.
    “It's fine.” Chenda said, recovering. She folded her bandaged hands together over her chest “My fingers got so cold I almost forgot that my hands are burned.” She looked down at her bandages, noticing how dirty they'd become, and how the exposed tips of her fingers were chapped and red.
    “Oh, burns,” Lincoln said sympathetically. “You best go see Kingston. He'll work some of his medical magic on them fingers. Get you better right quick.”
    Fenimore spoke up, “That's a great idea. I'm getting hungry, too. Kingston is in the galley?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Great, well, she's all yours. Just let her