“Jhor says this is an outdated MAV,” Chiddle said as he flipped through page after page of the ratty manual attached by a rusty chain to the dinged pilot’s console. “This model is between thirty and fifty years old, and modern Swifts will outmaneuver it.”
How wondrous. Lapis pressed her face against the side window, peering back; the craft did not fly high, but it sped along, and the flames at the entrance grew smaller and smaller.
“Are the khentauree safe, Tuft?” she asked.
“Yes. They fled to the Cloister. Vision has promised to see them protected to the mines after the enemy leaves.”
That was optimistic. She pictured the mercs cleaning out the Cloisters, uncaring about the mechanical beings already living there. Gold was gold, and the chance of a huge payout would prove too lucrative of a lure to disregard.
Cyan beams raced by, lighting the inside of the craft before fading into the distance. Patch hissed as another ricocheted off the side at her nose. Lapis jerked back, her body thrumming, prepared to run, but she had nowhere to go.
“Lanth, Brander, Rin, get in the seats, harness up,” her partner snapped.
The interior had four sections of five chairs curving around dinged and tables bolted to the floor. They were upholstered in worn black leather, with red shoulder and waist straps to secure one in their seat. The set-up reminded her of a meeting room, in keeping with a leadership vessel that did not expect to participate in battle but manage it.
An array of reading materials scattered on the surfaces slid over the sides and landed on the scuffed carpet as the craft veered to the right. Lapis tumbled into the side of a chair, gripping the top and armrest to keep herself on her feet. The beam missed, trailing sparks through the air as it whisked through the night. The vessel returned to its previous path, sailing through the glittery remains. She pulled herself to the rear, right-hand section next to the window using the backs of the chairs, and strapped in. Rin sank next to her and shoved the metal tongue into the square, button-activated pop buckle, as serious as he ever became.
Brander slipped into the seat opposite Rin, leaving Patch, Chiddle and Tuft at the console. The blue deer looked at each other but had not made up their minds about sitting before the ship veered again. Her partner and the two khentauree planted their hands on the console and struggled to keep their balance at the unexpected motion, but the mercs tumbled into seats, rammed into tables, and hit the floor.
The ship returned to its path, as if nothing untoward had occurred. Lapis craned around to look behind, but she could see nothing beyond the middle bulge. Did the enemy chase them, or did they send warning shots because they were engaged with the red tridents?
The front lit in blinking lights. She turned as Patch sank into a swivel chair, absently buckled in, and peered at a screen that contained blocks of text.
“What is an SG805i9?” Chiddle asked.
“I have no idea, but it’s shooting at us,” Patch muttered. “See if Jhor knows.” He set his finger on the display and pulled to the left, changing the image to a blueprint with lines pointing to different parts of what looked to be the MAV. She stretched her neck to see more but gave up because his shoulder blocked her view and sank back.
“Jhor says it is unknown to him. It doesn’t follow Dentherion military naming conventions, and the Meergeven craft he is familiar with begin with Meer. But, since the ship recognizes it, and knowing a descendant of Kez is involved with Caardinva, he’s guessing it’s from Taangis.”
Lapis eyed the mercs making their shaky way into chairs and buckling up. “Unless you think it’s worth dying for, you might want to tell us what you know. After all, if they’re your buddies, they don’t know you’re on board.”
The talkative one peeked at her, then back down at his straps and remained mute. Would shoving her blade under their chins make them more chatty? No, her threat was not severe enough, but Tuft’s was.
“You might rethink,” she told them. “Tuft likes to ice people from the inside out.”
Two spoke Meergeven in stressed, high voices, and the other three snapped in return. Lapis sighed, then flinched as another cyan beam shot past. She did not want to die on that ship because a handful of mercs stubbornly thought they held their company’s secret in confidence. Were they that loyal? Something to keep in mind during future engagements.
Their horror, combined with a warning smirk from Brander, kept her from elaborating. Tuft’s head swiveled to her, and she suffered a moment of finger-clenched unease before he focused on Chiddle. They buzzed at one another, and the crispy sounds made her wonder at the anger flowing between them. Had she provoked the Shivers khentauree? If so, he only yelled at Chiddle before returning to the console, pressing buttons, and sifting through menus. She curled her fingers tighter over the armrest and vowed to keep her opinions to herself. She did not want to end up as frozen as the mercs he attacked in the hallway.
Some machine hummed above her, and an odd, swooshing sound followed. “The weapon is active,” Tuft said.
“Good.” Chiddle dropped the manual and typed on the largest central screen. Lights of green and cyan flickered and flashed, reminding Lapis of merry candles placed in windows during the coldest days of End Year. Those acted as beacons to lure warmth back to the world, but she doubted the MAV had a similar motivation. “Autopilot guides the ship, and it follows a signal home.”
Patch leaned over, then pressed his patch. “Those coordinates are in northern Trave,” he growled.
Lapis glanced at Brander, who reflected her concern but with a shrug. So the ship headed to Trave, the Dentherion Empire’s military headquarters. The city housed 1.5 million people and hid the seediest underground quarters on Theyndora. Patch had visited when Sils first implanted his mod because the modder’s primary workshop was there, hidden beneath his tech repair store. He claimed its reputation for surveillance and harsh penalties was exaggerated, but considering her experience with Gall’s crackdowns, she did not think the city would be any less harsh than the empire it abetted.
“That makes sense, if this MAV is ex-military,” Brander said. “Jhor said Moorlight’s a Lords Council family, so it’s no stretch to think he’d have access to the decommissioned northern warehouses and the old Torc Bedan base. He might not get current tech, but older stuff from the undermarkets, like a thirty-year-old MAV?” He motioned to the interior.
“I’m losing Sanna,” Chiddle said, his fingers flying over the screen. “Jhor is plugged into her, and we will try to breach the flight controls before our connection breaks.”
A blot of dark decorated with blinking lights zipped past them and arched up and over, aiming for the front of the craft. The MAV flipped up sideways, and Lapis screamed as everything loose fell to the opposite wall, the chairs straining to follow. Wind roared under the floor, and she heard the swivel of the roof weapon.
The ship rocked back upright, and she whimpered as her body wombled into place. The gasps for air around her proved she was not the only terrified one.
Chiddle and Tuft remained standing, ice coating their legs to keep them at the console. Convenient. Of course, she would rather have them frozen to the floor than crumbled into a heap on the opposite side of the ship. They and Patch were the only ones between them flying back to the mine and ending up in enemy territory with no options for escape.
Cyan lightning sparked over the exterior of the craft, flowing to the nose before dissipating. Another, and yet another, crackled by.
“Lost Sanna,” Chiddle hummed.
The vessel chasing them conducted another pass, and the roof weapon made a scraping sound as it swiveled. Cyan beams lit the interior as they streaked away from the ship, but all missed their black smudge target. It dove, avoiding contact with the enemy by a body length at most. What was the other pilot thinking? Or was the craft unmanned, too, and whoever controlled it thought using it to down the MAV an acceptable loss?
Two of the mercs looked at the console, then back down. A rumble of voices reached them, and her suspicion rose.
Brander flicked his fingers, and Rin studied them before leaning over to her. “Brander’s thinkin’ they’s gonna try fer control once Chiddle breaks into the console because they don’t think Tuft’s a threat.”
Their lives to lose. “Why’d he even let them go in the first place? We could have just left them to rot.”
Rin half-laughed as the rebel answered the question with signs. “Patch figured they’d come with us, assumin’ we’d know how to escape, and then we’d confine and interrogate 'm.”
Which is why he did not relate that idea to her. She had a habit of pouring cold water on his brilliant schemes, and soggy chaser in front of smirky mercs would not appeal to him.
The ship angled to the left, and Rin smacked against her shoulder. He gritted his teeth and braced his legs so he did not completely squish her. They righted, and she swallowed her stomach back into its place.
A brighter cyan sizzle of lightning raced over the exterior. Had the enemy switched to a stronger attack?
The ship dipped, but not fast enough. The screech of metal being torn away from the roof ground into her ears as everything shuddered, and the ceiling bowed up with a protesting groan; the weapon on the top had become the victim of a well-timed strike.
Patch tensed; she did not have to guess that whatever happened, it meant bad things for them.
The black smudge of enemy craft rose in front of them, and a bright light formed at its center, streaks swirling around it.
They were going to die.
Their ride tipped, rolled; her stomach hit her throat, and she fought to retain the remains of what she’d eaten rather than spill it all over the interior. The ship righted, but instead of returning to its trajectory, it circled, the night sky a horizontal blur. The blot came into view, and it steadied.
The mercs popped their buttons.
Rin barreled into the first two to gain their feet, and they tumbled back onto the chair arms with cries. She triggered her blades and slashed at the third, who twisted to avoid the shiny weapons. The ship rocked, and he lost his balance; Brander shoved him into his buddy, and they both landed in a heap on the tabletop and bumped onto the chairs, then slid to the floor.
So nice, to be underestimated.
The talkative one planted his foot on the table and lunged over it, hands out to grab her.
She dodged and with a squawk, he flumped to floor and rammed his forehead into the edge of the table. He flipped to face her, teeth barred. Convenient, that. She snugged her blade against the collar of his uniform and smiled.
“Well, now, doesn’t seem you’re as sly as you wish,” she purred.
He swung at her. Of course he did, in typical shank behavior. He should have tried to take her legs out, instead. She sidestepped him, sheathed her right blade, reared, and slammed the metal-covered knuckles of her gauntlet into his unprotected face.
“Shit!”
She had a moment of pleasure at the horrified shout from a merc, but he did not mean her prowess. She turned and watched as ice shot out in a thick handle in front of them, then formed a vertical axe-like arch. The craft shoved the makeshift weapon into the enemy and quaked; she landed in a heap on her unconscious enemy.
Tuft sagged, as if that took everything he had, and maybe a bit more.
“Get in a chair!” Patch shouted.
Lapis did not bother with the merc as he slid towards the hole Tuft made in the back wall, but crawled into a seat and clicked the straps in place. The vibration unsettled her, and she dug her fingers into the leather on the arms, tearing the material. Flashes blinded her while metal cracking, lightning sizzling, and explosions deafened her, and the cessation of a bone-deep mechanical hum triggered lung-tightening fear. She shrieked as her bottom left the seat, her stomach rammed into her throat, and the hair over her body prickled. Her heart beat strong and fast enough, her ears felt plugged.
The hum re-started, and the craft rose. She fell back into her chair.
A merc slid past her and tumbled into another body; both careened into the back wall. She stared at each one; none of the unrestrained men had remained conscious. Brander grinned, hopped up, and retrieved the zapchains. How did he feel steady enough to walk around? She would fall if she tried to stand!
“You will stop them!” Tuft hissed. Stop them? She studied the mechanical being, who jabbed at the console with a stiff index finger.
“I will try,” Chiddle buzzed. He held a horseshoe-shaped lever that looked like the handlebars on a Dentherion tech bike and moved them in a circle; the craft responded to the direction he pointed. “This machine is now damaged, and it may not reach them before I must land it.”
“What’s up?” Patch asked, cool chaser nonchalance infusing him.
“Retreating red tridents took Dov and the khentauree with him hostage,” Chiddle said. “They were intercepted, and Dov, upset about Dreamer, did not respond to the threat as they should have. The enemy harmed them with their lightning sticks. Dov is running diagnostics and the others think they were damaged, for they do not respond to questions. They say they arrived at the entrance during the attack, and their captors forced them onto a cargo vessel and they escaped.”
“The khentauree scream for help.” Tuft’s tone cracked and popped, and if he were human, Lapis would assume he held back strong emotion by force of will. “The ship is near. We will help them.”
“Leaving khentauree with them is bad.” Patch ran a hand through his bangs, agitated. “But we’re not going to chase them down in a minimally functioning MAV, either.”
As the blinking red words on the screen in front of him attested.
“We must go after them!” Tuft insisted. A fine tremor started in his fingers and raced across his chassis. He might want to immediately give chase, but he was as up to it as the ship. The last thing they needed was a khentauree of his abilities falling into enemy hands.
“What are we to do?” Chiddle asked. “The defenses won’t remain extant much longer. The power feed was impaired, so we can’t—”
“You will follow them,” Tuft hissed, and Lapis’s breath puffed into the air from the sudden cold. It dwindled as quickly as it arose, leaving behind a subtle, hollow warmth. The khentauree curled his fingers and pressed his knuckles hard enough into the edge of the console, he dented it.
Patch cleared his throat to attract attention. “The beacon guiding this ship is still active, and it’s probably pointing to the same place the enemy evacuated to. We return to the mine, we get a better aircraft, we follow that signal, we find the khentauree and free them.”
A good stance to take; he did not question whether they would help, but pointed out they needed better equipment to do so. The thought of keeping Tuft further company twisted her tummy, but Lapis would suffer it, to rescue the captured khentauree. She knew the enemy would exploit a mechanical being like Dov if they could. They, after all, were the kind of weapon the markweza sought as an example for his dreamed-of machine army.
“It is moot,” Chiddle said as the hum died again. His fingers flew over the screen as a harsher buzz spluttered to life and crackled. “I will get us as near the mine as I can. Tell the khentauree we will come for them.”
Tuft’s knuckles dug deeper into the console. Fury would not fly them to their destination, as much as he wished it. Miki popped into mind, and she suppressed the remembrance. Dov was not the unlucky rat, and they might well prove their battle prowess to their captors before rescuers reached the khentauree prisoners.
The ship rocked. Brander lost his footing and gripped a seat to keep upright. He scrambled to sit down and buckle in. They all hung on as the craft bounced about, shook, thrummed, spitted. It tipped to the left and Lapis whimpered; she could not see her demise in the dark, and she wondered if that was good or bad. Tree branches struck the nearest window, and she jerked as cyan sparks burst from the impact.
The final bump knocked her legs into the air, and she almost nailed her chin with her knees.
“We have crashed,” Chiddle announced.
