A/N: OK. Even though I threatened y'all with story withdrawal if you didn't comment on my story "Knife Wounds Do Tend to Bleed," and I got a grand total of two reviews in the week between that and this (thanks loads, Julia456 and my anonymous friend! You get virtual cookies!), I shall still post this...

So. This right here is the first chapter of my lowly attempt at that fourth book in the trilogy that we all so desperately yearn for. (Seriously, hasn't anyone told Scott the secret meaning of "trilogy"? I mean, look at Cassandra Clare's Mortal Instruments "trilogy." Five books and a prequel trilogy for a story that was pretty well wrapped up in the third book. Or, hey, how about Uglies?) However, since Scott has, sadly, moved on to things that are no doubt of pressing importance and awesomeness, this is MY shot at a fourth book.

By the way, this is NOT to be confused with the OTHER Colossus, the one by nenya62189 (an excellent FIFTH book that is, regrettably, on hiatus TT_TT). I do apologize if you got this while looking for that. If you haven't read it before, though, you should definitely check it out (and its prequel, Tikal) right after this. They are AMAZING.

The reason why I have an awkward title overlap is because I started writing this way back when I was severely deprived and hadn't read a BIT of fanfiction. (*shudders* I can only contemplate how incredibly dull my life must have been.) And by now, it's a bit late to change. I've been slogging away in routine contentment ever since and have written 17 of 40 meticulously planned chapters. I assure you, I am NOT giving up on this anytime soon.

Without further ado, let us proceed to what is quite literally a very good candidate for Most Boring First Chapter Ever. (Coincidentally, it is also the SHORTEST chapter thus far. Go figure.) Trust me, it goes uphill from here :P

DISCLAIMER: Whoopsies, almost forgot XD As stated above, I am NOT Scott Westerfeld, and if I were this would be 1) about a million times better and 2) illustrated by Keith Thompson instead of sporadically by yours truly.

Deryn Sharp winced as Bovril shifted position for the millionth time, its claws puncturing her shirt. The wee beastie shivered, although its soft fur felt warm against her neck.

"Barking cold," the perspicacious loris muttered.

"Aye, that it is," she replied and shivered a squick herself. It was decidedly nippy up here, dangling from a Huxley a thousand feet above the Leviathan's topside. The North Atlantic in winter was hardly a summer romp, after all, and a strong tailwind nipped at her ears like a mischievous sprite despite her flight suit's thick hood. Bovril didn't seem to appreciate being used as a scarf, either.

She raised her field glasses to her goggled eyes, trying to distract herself from her tingling extremities. She wasn't off watch for a while yet, but hopefully the bosun would take pity on her soon and swap her out with Newkirk. That bum-rag hadn't been doing many of his duties lately—though, come to think of it, Deryn had been begging for every squick of work she could. Dr. Busk, the airship's head boffin, had been reluctant to let her resume normal duties, especially those that involved climbing the ratlines, due to her still-recovering sprained knee. But once the Leviathan had sailed out of New York, he had reluctantly concluded that she was well enough to be worked to the bone again.

Of course, he didn't know the one thing her knee had almost revealed—her gender. If he had—Deryn smiled grimly—perhaps he would have insisted on her remaining inside the ship. He might've clapped her in the brig, even, and dragged her to London for a court-martial before the Admiralty. Luckily, Alek's clever scheming had prevented that.

But now wasn't the time to think about Alek. She'd been worse than a village lassie in regard to that boy lately, and she ought not to dwell on him now that she was finally back on active duty.

Deryn sighed, a faint sound that was lost in the wind, and scanned the sky and sea for any flash of metal that might indicate Clanker craft trying to sneak up on the massive airship. Pale, frosty blue sky stretched away to the horizons, merging with the wind-tossed sea until it all blurred together in her sight. Wispy, harried-looking clouds scudded overhead, whipping past despite the Leviathan's considerable speed, and she was suddenly glad that the airship was cruising at a relatively low altitude.

Why she had to perform this pointless duty, she didn't know. The Germans might've been stirred up by the whole Goliath affair, aye, but that was weeks past now. Surely they wouldn't be so daft as to go and irritate the Americans some more by trying to shoot a diplomatic airship out of the sky! But you never knew with those Clanker ninnies.

Besides, she was sure more than one skinny wee middy with a pair of field glasses was scanning the sky. The U-boat spotters on the Leviathan's bridge would surely be keeping a watch for enemy craft from there, and who knew about the American airships that were accompanying the Leviathan to London? There were seven of them, five sleek warships and two fat-bellied passenger craft. They—like all things American—were a queer mix of Clanker and Darwinist technologies, partly mechanical zeppelins and partly fabricated hydrogen breathers like the Leviathan itself. None were as big, and none were as nippy, either, and Deryn felt a surge of pride for her ship. However, they had all sorts of odd tangles of machinery and living components jutting out of their smooth skins, and Deryn wondered how many were guns and how many were cameras and telescopes. They looked nearly the same, really, and the Leviathan had a bit of both.

Of course, being up here wasn't so bad. The wind, though frigid, was a reminder that she was flying, soaring through the air like she was meant to be. Deryn felt her stomach twist as she remembered that she would be leaving the Leviathan all too soon, in a week or so when they reached London. It was a small consolation that she would be leaving not as a disgraced and ridiculed girl playing dress-up in a soldier's uniform, but as a decorated midshipman of His Majesty's Air Service going to aid a greater cause.

What that cause was, though, and where it would be taking her after London, she had only the vaguest of notions. Dr. Barlow wasn't big on specificity, and the Zoological Society of London—the organization the lady boffin worked for—was even more mysterious than she. Her vague remarks—that the organization was much more than its name indicated, that it would find many uses for Deryn, and that there would be a lot of airship travel involved—did nothing to answer Deryn's questions.

Sometimes—most times, actually—she wondered why in blazes she was leaving the Leviathan, her steady home for nearly six months, her refuge through zeppelin attacks and crashes, lightning near-misses and political turmoil, for what was, after all, only a shadow of promised adventure. Then again, the discovery of her secret was almost inevitable on the Leviathan, and being on land again would reduce the chance of some sneaky-beak ferreting it out. She could always move on if she was discovered, and she would much rather leave the ship under her own power than be dragged off in chains.

Besides, Alek would be coming with her, and in a world turned on its head by the Great War, that was really all she could ask. Any sacrifice on her part would be worth his company a thousand times over.

Of course, it would mean keeping her latest and most shocking secret of all.

Bovril made a buzzing noise in her ear that sounded remarkably like a Clanker engine, and she scanned the skies in a panic, snapping out of her Alek-induced stupor. It was definitely…wise to listen to the beastie, as it had sharper ears and eyes than any human and was remarkably canny when it came to connections—hence the name.

But she spotted no enemy craft, just one of the American passenger zeppelins edging out of formation and into the Leviathan's airspace. She squinted and barely made out its—no, her, she reminded herself, nonliving airships were feminine, for some reason—name, obscured as it was by the airship's envelope: Avian.

Concerned, she tugged out her semaphore flags and whipped an A-V-I-A-N—A-P-P-R-O-A-C-H-I-N-G to Newkirk, who was supposed to be watching for her signals below at the Leviathan's spine. Bovril craned its neck to see her arm movements and muttered each letter as she signaled it; it had taught itself semaphore from watching her practice months ago and liked to helpfully provide a translation every time someone signaled. Deryn didn't doubt that the officers—barking spiders, even some riggers—had noticed, but it was always good to let them know that you hadn't fallen asleep up here. Besides, the Avian might actually be out of control or simply have her helmsman asleep at her wheel; the earlier a warning was received, the better.

Almost as if in response to her signal, although surely Newkirk couldn't have informed the bridge already, the Leviathan's engines went from quarter speed to idle. Deryn frowned, watching as the Avian sidled up alongside the stilled Leviathan, trying to align her gondola with the larger airship's. Surely they couldn't be attempting a midair coupling. The Manual of Aeronautics had firmly stated that these were only to be performed in emergency situations, such as when an airship was irreparably losing hydrogen and needed supplies immediately, due to the inherent danger of a collision.

Then again, the Leviathan's captain had done a few things that weren't exactly in the book before.

As Deryn watched, the gondolas were delicately aligned and a rope thrown across to the Leviathan. Someone must've attached it to the cargo port winch, for the Avian was tugged closer and closer until she was nearly rubbing against the Leviathan. Deryn winced, imagining the carnage if a stray gust of wind bumped the two airships together, but just at that moment her Huxley's cable jerked as its excess slack was removed. She began to descend as the cable was winched downward.

Deryn squinted and brought her field glasses up once again as Newkirk signaled her from below her swinging boots: L-A-D-Y—B-O-F-F-I-N—W-A-N-T-S—Y-O-U.

She sighed. Whatever—or whoever, most likely—was barking important enough to merit such a potentially disastrous maneuver as a midair coupling involved Dr. Barlow, and the lady boffin wanted Deryn's help with whatever it was.

She wasn't surprised at all, really.

Deryn unbuckled herself from her harness and slid the final few yards down the Huxley cable, the thick rope as piping hot as a teakettle between her gloves. She felt a pang of regret; that was another thing she would miss once she left the Leviathan—mad stunts with rope.

Alek was waiting at the winch alone, looking decidedly chilly and pale without a flight suit. She felt something twist in the pit of her stomach when she saw him—longing, perhaps.

Though why she would still be yearning when she had what she had wanted for months, she didn't know.

Glancing around to make sure no riggers were close enough to see them, she leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on his lips.

Alek pulled back a little, looking startled, and then smiled and laughed. "Hello to you, too," he said.

Blisters, how she loved that smile.

Deryn bit her lip, forcing her brain to stay on track, and strode past him and off the spine so as not to be tempted to stare at him. Being a girl was barking frustrating, especially when the object of her affections was on her ship and driving her mad with his presence.

"Where's Newkirk gone?" she asked over her shoulder, heading for the ratlines. If the lady boffin wanted her, it would be below in the gondola.

Alek followed her onto the soft, unarmored membrane of the flanks of the airship. "He said something about helping with the coupling," he replied. "Do we really have to climb the ratlines?"

"Aye, that we do. It's faster than going through the gastric channel, and I reckon Dr. Barlow wants me right away. Anyway, since when have you been such a ninny about climbing?"

Deryn felt, rather than saw, his resigned shrug. "I'm not a ninny! It's just, today it's a bit…"

"Cold," she completed, taking a flying leap down the rest of the bare membrane and snagging a ratline as she half fell, half slid past it. She swung flat against the airship's warm flank, hooking her boots into the ratlines below, and winked up at Alek. "Bet you can't do that."

"I'd rather not, no." He skidded the rest of the way down on his boot heels, barely managing to grab a ratline. That was another good thing about being more than friends now; he wasn't ashamed to turn down some of her wee competitions. "I have a message lizard for you," he continued as she reached out a hand to steady him. He fished in his jacket for a moment and brought out one of the wee beasties, placing it on his shoulder.

Being from reptilian stock, the lizard was sluggish in the cold, and Alek had to prod it a few times for it to blink, focus on Deryn, and give its message.

"Mr. Sharp," it said in the posh tones of the lady boffin. "I would like you and Alek to come to my cabin at your earliest convenience. I have a guest I'd like you to meet. And," the lizard paused, and Deryn half expected it to raise a tiny eyebrow, as Dr. Barlow often did, "I would appreciate it if you looked smart while doing so."

The lizard paused, waiting for a reply, and when none was offered, it scampered off Alek's shoulder and down the membrane.

"That's it?" Deryn said incredulously. "She ordered a midair coupling and pulled me off watch just so we could go and greet some barking American boffin?"

"It appears so, yes. Though Newkirk assured me he would take over for you as soon as he got back." Alek pointed down the flank. "It also seems as if this boffin, whoever he is, might be staying for a while."

The Avian had uncoupled from the Leviathan and was heading back into formation. It did indeed appear that Dr. Barlow's guest would be spending the rest of the journey aboard the Leviathan.

Deryn sighed, still amazed that the lady boffin had the audacity to risk a crash just to transfer one passenger. She practically commanded the entire barking ship, never mind Captain Hobbes's orders!

She felt a squick of smugness, though, as she realized she too would soon have that kind of pull. As small a compensation for leaving her home as it was, it was something, at least.

Deryn met Alek's dark green gaze for a squick. "Well, then, I reckon we'd better get climbing. When Dr. Barlow says 'at your earliest convenience,' she means barking now."

If only you knew what is in store for you, Deryn... If only you knew... *does best evil cackle*

You get a virtual hug if you guess who the "boffin" is! (Especially since you'd have to be some kind of mind-reader; I was too lazy to actually base them more than very, very loosely off of someone historical.)

Anyway, Chapter 2 should be up in a week, depending upon if y'all are nice, responsible reviewers or not ;) Just kidding, it should be up then anyway, seeing as I've had it written for over five months. But seriously, be kind, take a few minutes, and REVIEW!