 Prologue. Malcolm pressed his forepaws against the flight-deck window and peered out. The silver airship was still following, gaining on them. The purr of its propellers, and the whoosh of its knife-sharp hull cutting through the air, sent a shiver of terror through his clockwork innards. The fox tore his eyes away and stared at his master. John's ship, Dragonfly, was fast, but she had nothing in the way of firepower. The silver airship, by contrast, bristled with weapons.