Azuria had proven herself more than equal to the tasks required in keeping the airship aloft,
but her culinary skills were those of a woman who had never so much as laid eyes on a stove.
A soggy boiled cabbage leaf stared back the the scientist, a blackened piece of toast provided sad company.
Metier prodded it sullenly with his fork.
In the three days since the destruction of the laboratory, his attitude toward the ship had changed from the vague hope that she would prove airworthy, to confidence in her power, to a scientific pride which he knew only Alestaire would have truly understood. He had come to know every inch of the massive engines, from the magnetic plates, to the gyroscopes which kept her on an even keel, and although he might never have said it aloud, he felt a strange satisfaction, though it was tinged with sadness. The aetherion engine was Alestair's invention, after all, it seemed wrong that he was not there to share in its success.
The toast grew soggy - the price of associating so closely with the boiled cabbage.