Jazz, Monster Collector in: Crash Down (Season one, Episode One)

by RyFT Brand

blind.”

  “Oh yes,” Ship said as if he were suddenly remembering. Ever since I’d shoved his wicked soul down this flycraft’s input modem, he’d grown fond of shoving my shortcomings down my throat. “I forgot all about that, such a shame. Well, the long-range monitors aren’t showing other flycraft in the area, just that fe-dragon.”

  Realization slipped a smile onto my face. “Of course, it’s what I’d do.” I dipped Ship’s nose down and dove toward the gigantic lizard.

  “Hey, that’s a red, a big one. What do you think you’re doing?” his voice was reaching a pitch I feared might shatter the canopy.

  “I’m not picking on the lizard…yet. I’m just going to scare up some game.” I extended Ship’s bow welder, activated the arc generator, and spun the dial down to the first setting.

  “You’re crazy…crazier than normal. You can not shock a dragon of that size!”

  “Oh, well if you say so then I won’t.” As I arched Ship back up, I flipped off the safety cover and hit the welder’s trigger. A blue-silver spark leapt from Ship’s nose and struck the lizard on her belly scales. Her mouth expelled a roar and a flash of flame as she jerked up and away from the electric charge, her huge eyes opened wide and bulged in their sockets. The welder was set at thirteen pixa-amps, hardly enough to tickle the beast’s belly, but all I needed was to get her to move.

  But the Cranks had seen me coming and were all ready moving out from behind her. They knew I’d come back for them—I was becoming too predictable. But I’d gotten a little lucky. The last Crank moved too slowly. One huge, leathery wing caught his flycraft with an upward flap. The stub-wing was sent spinning and careening out of control. It crashed in an explosion on the tip of a jagged spur of rock. That gave me a smile.

  “You’re insane, you…you maniac!” Poor Ship, he sounded frantic about something.

  But the other two climbed up and out in a large arc. At the apex, they rolled over and dove toward us. The first was a Connor fifty-seven, a standard issue stub-wing fighter, the Crank craft of preference. I didn’t know what they saw in them, I found them awkward, heavy, and a bit ridiculous looking; like a pregnant bumblebee in armor. But the other was a Baronwise 333, a triple tri-plane, three wings, three engines, and three big guns; must be one of the last ones still flying, a relic from the Inter-Dimensional war. Ship was fast but that was faster, and more heavily armed. Any sane person would have cut and run, especially since my encounter with these Cranks was completely random and had nothing to do with my current client, but most folks will tell you that I’m about as far from sane as you can get. I didn’t mind though, life had given me good reason to toss my sanity in the incinerator. Besides, a chance to dust a couple of Cranks was just the cure for a boring afternoon.

  I stepped down on the left pedal, simultaneously raising the right, and spun the yoke as I pushed it forward and down, tipping myself into an almost horizontal position. Ship was a heavily modified J-class yard switcher; it’s a mule, a workhorse, not a fighter at all. It had been designed to work in the busiest shipyards, to be able to maneuver in ultra-tight spaces, to withstand the occasional bump from a drifting super-freighter, and to do all of this at a profit worthy speed. You didn’t so much sit inside Ship; he was more like something you wore. Standing on the pedals and gripping the yoke, the pilot’s butt was off the seat, allowing her to maneuver the craft in multiple, three-hundred and sixty degree axis simultaneously. The entire control armature was rigged to a multi-axis gyroscope, so when Ship turned, rolled and spun, I had turned rolled and spun first. He had a Techscore 4340 inertial dampener, modified to work at fighting speed, allowing him to start, stop, and turn on a microdot. Not exactly legal, but the enforcer corps didn’t pay much attention to old yard switchers. And that was good, considering all the aftermarket weaponry I’d added. And, I guess it goes without saying, he was also the only flycraft I knew of with a soul, albeit a somewhat tamed demon soul thanks to an Ausite spirit crystal that happened into my possession.

  “Talk to me Ship,” I said.

  “All right, I hope you fall into a dark matter volcano and I’m there to see the explosion from a safe distance.”

  “Gee, that helps us a lot, no…actually it doesn’t help at all!” I got louder then I’d intended to, but as I now had Ship’s attention, I let the anger flow. “How about keeping the ‘tude to yourself and giving me a strategic suggestion relevant to our current situation?”

  “Oh, that. I’d take out the little stub-wing first, better our odds.”

  “I thought you’d say that,” I said, then rolled the yoke back and raised both pedals, spinning myself up straight and driving Ship into a sharp accent to intercept the tri-wing.

  “What are you doing? I said to take out the stub-wing first.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m going after the tri-plane.”

  “You’re a perfect ass, you do know that?”

  “I know,” I grunted as I rolled through three successive spins, each weaved us past one of three plasma bolts the Baronwise has fired. Ship’s wings were threading through the bolt’s vapor trails like a sewing machine needle through a bobbin thread. “If I down the tri-plane, I guarantee the stub-wing will cut and run.”

  “Ouch!” Ship cried as the tail of the last bolt struck his starboard wing tip. A thin line of black smoke trailed out behind us and I smelled burnt paint and molten aluma-carbium. “It hurts, it hurts!”

  “Shut it Ship!” I bellowed, diving us down and hard left, moving out of the Baronwise’s range and away from his stub-wing companion. “It’s not like you feel pain anyway.”

  “Phantom pain from when I had a body—pain is pain.”

  “Don’t be such a little larva. Now give me more juice to the aft thrusters.”

  “There’s nothing more, that’s it.”

  “Then shut down the inertial dampener and the vid screen.”

  “What? You can’t be serious!” A shutter ran through Ship “We’d be blind and without a serious maneuvering advantage you stupid fool.”

  “Stupid is foolish; you’re insults are becoming redundant.” The cackling of a rapid-fire nose fitted machine gun stung my ears. Ship shook with the impact of lead shot. The bullets wouldn’t be able to pierce his fork-truck heavy hide, but a lucky projectile could hit a sensitive piece of equipment. I ducked my head reflexively. I won’t share Ship’s response. I looked over my shoulder. Through the rear view port I saw the tri-plane pouring on speed. It was a second away from bringing us back into plasma cannon range. I shouted through gritted teeth. “Give me that power! Do it now!”

  “Shutting down vid screen now. Shutting down inertial dampener and routing all power to aft thrusters now. And may lord Balish of the firey underworlds have no mercy on your soul, milady.”

  “Gag on after-burn you winged dumpster.” I jammed both thumb throttles all the way down and Ship took off like a sprint-rocket racer. He built speed a little slower with the dampener off, but I’d added a lot of top end. The unexpected speed caught the Baronwise off guard and bought us some serious ground. I aimed Ship for an oncoming garbage scow at least a thousand cars long and cut the throttles full off.

  “What are you doing? We’ll never stop in time.”

  “Bring the dampener back online, hurry.”

  “I can’t reactivate it at speed, we’d disintegrate.”

  “I need that dampener Ship, and I need it now!”

  “Even if I could switch it on, and I wouldn’t, I can’t override the motion sensor; it’s part of the primary safety system.”

  “Scrud! Scrud! Scrud!” I banged my forehead against the yoke’s padded dash.

  “Stop banging my controls and do something!”

  The tri-plane and the stub-wing had us flanked on either side, and the scow was coming up fast. If I ran we’d be blasted to vapor, but without the dampener high speed maneuvering would take some serious space and time, both of which we didn’t have. My eyes ran up and down the overstuffed gondo
la cars. “There!” I shouted and banked for a car over-laden with dead tree shipping pallets. Maybe my time working the ship-yards hadn’t been a total waste.

  “What are you doing?” With only his short-range proximity sensors and ultrasonic radar active, Ship could only see outlines of objects, like my shadow-sight.

  “Trust me.”

  “Trust you? You’re nuts! I insist you return to onboard control this instant.”

  “Discharge it tin-brain and hold on!”

  I dipped Ship through a short arc, the bottom of which cut us straight through a tall stack of the pallets. Just as we impacted the cargo I gunned both throttles. Shipping straps broke, pallets shattered, and splinters flew in every direction.

  Ship screamed. “Ahhhhh!”

  “Can it you big baby, it was only wood.” Ship’s hide was as tough gigantadillo armor, and his wing bumpers were designed for shoving the biggest cargo-craft around shipping yards, they could knock down trees. He wasn’t hurt; he was just a metal drama queen.

  I risked a glance behind. The stub-wing had climbed high and away, the remaining pallets were engulfed in flames kindled by my thrusters. There was no sign of the tri-plane, but I’d be a fool to think I’d done more than bought us a few seconds. I hauled back on the yoke and lowered both pedals until I was upright in the cabin.

  “What are you doing? We’ll be sitting ducks!” When excited, Ship’s voice