by RyFT Brand
huge, frightened eyes, the dragon exploded in a flash of searing plasma and spiraled out of the sky, leaving an artistic looking swirl of white smoke behind.
I watched her fall like a comet through the atmosphere. “She should have been more careful about what she ate. A flycraft garnished with fully charged plasma bolts can not be conducive to good health. Talk about acid-reflux.”
“I suppose you expect me to say well done milady. Well I won’t.”
“Fine, then I’ll say it. Well done Jazz, you’ve saved us again.”
“Don’t look now your wholly conceitedness, but there’re sirens coming this way.”
I cringed. “Ut-oh. This means paperwork. Let’s see if we can avoid it.”
With my damaged flycraft sputtering and shuttering, I descended to commercial traffic level and fell in behind a cargo cruiser.
“Well, well, it appears that someone’s dropped a rather large amount of sewage on the Prescott Building, I don’t suppose you’re much bothered by that?”
I smiled. “Actually there’s a strange sense of irony about it; makes me feel pretty good.”
“Well then you’ll be saddened to know that the scow seems to have dropped harmlessly into the bay, and the dragon dissolved before making landfall.”
“No body, no charges. Good work Ship.”
“Don’t complement me yet, I’m not feeling so good myself.”
I scanned the control panel. “What are you talking about?” As I spoke the words every needle dropped below the zero point, the water in the pressure glass rose and cracked the tube, and the aft gyro began wobbling erratically. Ships engines died and we began to fall.
“Arrgh.” I grunted and strained with the controls. “You couldn’t have told me sooner?”
“I didn’t know sooner.”
“Ramp up the dampener for full stop.”
“Way ahead of you. At this height I should be able to slow myself enough to gain no further damage at crash-down, you, on the other hand, will most likely be rendered into a sticky puddle.”
“Well then try harder!” I pulled at the controls with all my might until I had them pegged against the stops, but I still didn’t seem to be slowing. The altimeter was spinning down, the planet’s surface drawing nearer and nearer. “Come on, come on,” I coaxed myself as much as Ship.
One thousand meters
Nine hundred meters
Eight hundred meters.
“Come on Ship, you should have more than this in you.”
Four hundred meters and we still weren’t slowing.
Two hundred meters.
One hundred meters and we stopped dead, hanging in the air. I crumpled down onto the floor, banging my knee on the dash. “Oww!”
“Gee, I guess you were right; I did have a little reserve power left.”
I stood, rubbing my knee, and spoke from between gritted teeth. “Just put us on the ground you sickening, demon spawned piece of hybrid crap!”
“Really milady, such language. Touchdown,” Ship said as he settled onto an asphalt lot. “Now, wouldn’t you call that a gentle landing?”
“I’ll call you scrap-heap! If you ever do anything like that again, I’ll have you smelted into body jewelry for a gang of grunge mopers.”
“Won’t happen again, so sorry milady.”
I hit the switch and the seal popped out a hiss of air and the canopy swung open. “Stuff it Ship, and stuff all that milady crap, I’m sick of it.”
“Whatever you say, Jazz.”
I hopped out, landing on my good leg, and carefully shuffled down Ship’s stubby wing. I walked around him, looking over the damage. The worst of it had been taken by the tail; which was bent at a strange angle. I ripped the leather helmet and goggles from my head and tossed them in the cockpit. “Scrud,” I said and kicked Ship’s hull with my laced moccasin boot.
“Hey, careful there,” his effected voice echoed from inside the metal cabin.
I scratched at my short hair and wiped brow sweat on the sleeve of my red cotton jacket. “And I still owe Uncle Remmy from the last repair. Not to mention we now need an expensive tow. I’m totally balisked. “Ship, call Parry, have him contact DJ and get her to pick me up on her scooter.”
“Her scooter’s still in the impound yard since you borrowed it last week and parked in a non-corporeal designated space.”
I ran a hand down my face. “Oh yeah, I forgot. Well, he can tell her to come on my cycle, that’s still fine.”
“Yes, it is, but my cell isn’t. I have no reception.”
Sure enough, the little dish antenna was gone from the hull. All that was left was a broken bracket and a frayed wire; most likely a casualty of the tri-wing’s bullets. I knew I should have brought my rucksack.
I heaved a sigh. “Fine, I’ll walk. Close the canopy, seal the hatch, and lock yourself down. I’ll be back as soon as I can, hopefully before any recyclers happen along.”
“Recyclers. Oh good God. Hurry back, please.”
As I walked away I heard the canopy slam shut and the familiar chirp of Ship setting his alarm—little good that would do in this neighborhood. I lifted my long, patchwork skirt and checked my leg holsters. I was relived that that I’d brought my zoom stick, but I wasn’t sure how much my custom boomerang would help me here. I wasn’t dressed for this. I didn’t wear my working clothes (meaning my field armor) to meetings as it tended to off put clients. Aside from the revolver and the ‘rang, I had a few slightly out of date chili pepper bombs, several neatly hidden daggers, and the protections I don’t leave home without. Other than that I was dressed for a casual stroll and I was about to march into a battlefield.
I limped away as fast as I dared, hoping I didn’t look like I was walking away as fast as I dared. I kept my eyes straight ahead and tried to ignore the stink. Clowntown, not the kind of neighborhood a girl wants to find herself in, especially alone. There weren’t actually any clowns here, not like circus clowns with big shoes, squirting flowers, and pie fights. These clowns were a gang, monsters living in the shadow of Nitsburg, one of the gleaming human cities. Humans had it so easy now; they wanted for very little and did even less, that made it easy, desirable even, to ignore the wretchedness that surrounded them. Mirth was a planet divided. There were the wealthy city dwellers with all their toys and life made easy by magtec, technology controlled magics, and then there were the rest of us.
With any luck I could make it the nine blocks to the el-station. Once on the train I’d be safe enough. But those were nine dangerous blocks ahead of me, and the only kind of luck I ever had was bad, real bad.
-Next Time-
Jazz is stranded in Clowntown, one of the most dangerous places outside of the wilds. She’s hurt, tired, hungry, and about to be a lot worse off really soon. The Clowns of Clowntown are anything but funny. But when Jazz runs into a golem made entirely of stolen body parts, she’ll be lucky to fight the Clowns that are waiting for her.
Jazz, Monster Collector, Episode 2, Creatures & Clowns
I hope you’ve enjoyed this, the first Jazz story.
If you’d like to learn more about the monster collector, or me and my other works, please visit:
Ranting at:
www.RiftsRants.com