A legendary ghost ship. An incredible treasure. A death-defying adventure. Forty years ago, the airship Hyperion vanished with untold riches in its hold. Now, accompanied by heiress Kate de Vries and a mysterious gypsy, Matt Cruse is determined to recover the ship and its treasures. But 20,000 feet above the Earth's surface, pursued by those who have hunted the Hyperion since its disappearance, and surrounded by deadly high-altitude life forms, Matt and his companions soon find themselves fighting not only for the Hyperion —but for their very lives. “Oppel does it again! This action-packed sequel to Airborn starts with a bang and doesn’t let up until the satisfying ending.” - School Library Journal “Readers who’ve been Airborn should be eager to make their next ascent.” - Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books (Rising Star feature on Kenneth Oppel) “Creative, compelling, nicely unpredictable and alive with nature and technology.” - Kirkus Reviews “Another breakneck flight. More than enough material for heart–stopping action scenes that will please even the most jaded of readers.” - The Horn Book (starred review) A legendary ghost ship. An incredible treasure. A death-defying adventure. Forty years ago, the airship Hyperion vanished with untold riches in its hold. Now, accompanied by heiress Kate de Vries and a mysterious gypsy, Matt Cruse is determined to recover the ship and its treasures. But 20,000 feet above the Earth's surface, pursued by those who have hunted the Hyperion since its disappearance, and surrounded by deadly high-altitude life forms, Matt and his companions soon find themselves fighting not only for the Hyperion —but for their very lives. KENNETH OPPEL is the bestselling author of numerous books for young readers. His award-winning Silverwing trilogy has sold over a million copies worldwide. Airborn won the Governor General’s Literary Award and was named a Michael L. Printz Honor Book. Oppel is also the author of Half Brother, This Dark Endeavour, The Boundless, The Nest, Inkling and the Bloom trilogy. His latest novels are Ghostlight and Best of All Worlds , which was nominated for a Governor General’s Literary Award and named Children’s Book of the Year by the Times. Skybreaker By Kenneth Oppel HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. Copyright ©2007 Kenneth Oppel All right reserved. ISBN: 9780060532291 Chapter One The Devil's Fist The storm boiled above the Indian ocean, a dark, bristling wall of cloud, blocking our passage west. We were still twenty miles off, but its high winds had been giving us a shake for the past half hour. Through the tall windows of the control car, I watched the horizon slew as the ship struggled to keep steady. The storm was warning us off, but the captain gave no order to change course. We were half a day out of Jakarta, and our holds were supposed to be filled with rubber. But there'd been some mix-up, or crooked dealing, and we were flying empty. Captain Tritus was in a foul mood, his mouth clenching a cigarette on one side, and on the other, muttering darkly about how he was expected to pay and feed his crew on an empty belly. He'd managed to line up a cargo in Alexandria, and he needed to get us there fast. "We'll clip her," he told his first officer, Mr. Curtis. "She's not got much power on her southern fringe. We'll sail right through." Mr. Curtis nodded, but said nothing. He looked a little queasy, but then again, he always looked a little queasy. Anyone would, serving aboard the Flotsam under Tritus. The captain was a short, stocky man, with a greasy fringe of pale hair that jutted out beyond his hat. He was not much to look at, but he had Rumpelstiltskin's own temper, and when angry—which was often—his fist clenched and pounded the air, his barrel chest thrust forward, and his orders shot out like a hound's bark. His crew tended to say as little as possible. They did as they were told and smoked sullenly, filling the control car with a permanent yellow pall. It looked like a waiting room in purgatory. The control car was a cramped affair, without a separate navigation or wireless room. The navigator and I worked at a small table toward the back. I usually liked having a clear line of sight out the front windows, but right now, the view was not an encouraging one. Flying into a storm, even its outer edges, did not seem like a good idea to me. And this was no ordinary tempest. Everyone on the bridge knew what it was: the Devil's Fist, a near-eternal typhoon that migrated about the North Indian basin year-round. She was infamous, and earned her name by striking airships out of the sky. "Eyes on the compass, Mr. Cruse," the navigator, Mr. Domville, reminded me quietly. "Sorry, sir." I checked the needle and reported our new heading. Mr. Domville made his swift markings on the chart. Our course was starting to look like the path of a drunken sailor, zigzagging as we fought the headwinds. They were shoving at us s