Breeze Corinth (Book 1): Sky Shatter

by Olson, Michael John

  “You mean like books and studying?”

  Vermillion ignored the interruption, ”—and plenty of opportunity for recreational activities. The swimming there is so much fun, as the water is quite warm and inviting. And so clear! Do you like to swim?”

  “Don’t know how,” Breeze said.

  Horton leaned in. “Well no matter. I’m sure there is someone there who would be more than happy to teach you. Perhaps a nice young lady?” he said with a wink and a smile.

  Breeze shrugged.

  Vermillion shook his head. “Forgive my associate, young man. Is there a lady friend of your own you will be leaving behind? I don’t think Mr. Goldmeyer meant to imply that you would be betraying her confidence in you in any way.”

  “No, it’s fine. Nobody here for me. Not really.”

  The two men looked over at Jacob, who was sitting with his hands gripping the armrest with his eyes closed.

  Vermillion cleared his throat. “Well then, I would like to say this was a productive meeting. I just need to know young man, with your father’s consent of course, would you care to join us at our humble academy?”

  Breeze stood up suddenly. “Yes. When do we leave?”

  Vermillion and Horton looked at one another with a mixture of surprise and happiness.

  Vermillion was the first to speak. “Well, uh, good question. I suppose at your earliest convenience—”

  “Let me go get my stuff.” Breeze pivoted on his heel and marched out of the room.

  He came back moments later with a bag slung over his shoulder. He had his nav-compass on his wrist and he tugged on his jacket sleeve to cover it.

  Vermilion arched an eyebrow at the nav-compass, and then nodded his head while slapping his hands on his knees as he stood up. Horton clumsily rose from his seat, and they both turned to Jacob.

  Jacob stood up slowly as he pushed off the armrests with a groan. Horton reached out to help, but he ignored him.

  He stood there in the dimly lit family room and looked at his son, noticing how much he had grown over the years. A boy, he thought to himself, beginning his journey to becoming a man. Hopefully a far better one than I ever was.

  As father and son stood face to face, Vermillion tilted his head at Horton and the two retreated to the far corner of the room.

  “Well, this is it I guess,” Breeze said.

  Jacob placed a hand on his shoulder. “Do good. Learn. Take in everything that you can. I promise you that somebody will be here when you get back.”

  Breeze cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

  “I will be going away for a while. Business of course. We’ll meet again and discuss everything you have learned. You can tell me then what you think of your future and what it is you really want to do.”

  Breeze looked into his father’s eyes. He had never seen him like this before.

  “Well then, it’s settled,” Vermillion said as he stepped toward them. “Breeze, when you are ready we will be waiting for you in our transport. Jacob,” he turned and bowed to him, “thank you for your hospitality, and most important of all, introducing us to your son and granting him the opportunity to spend the summer with us. I promise you he will return, changed for the better, of course.”

  Jacob nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  Vermillion motioned Horton to follow him. Horton bowed to Jacob as he walked past, and then patted Breeze on his shoulder. “Good choice,” he said as he trailed Vermillion out the door.

  “I suppose this is goodbye?” Breeze said as he tugged on the bag strap across his chest.

  “There is no such thing as goodbye. Just an intermission before we meet again. Now go and see the world. I will see you when I do.” Jacob sat back down in his chair.

  Breeze walked out of the living room and down the hallway adorned with pictures. He glanced at them quickly as they flickered by like windows into a life he sensed he would never see again.

  He stepped out the front door into the brilliant sunshine, but didn’t see either of the two recruiters. He looked back at the house wondering if they were still inside, then turned around when he sensed a presence behind him and was startled to see a ship hovering a few inches off the ground before him. It was like nothing he had seen before. He was used to the usual propeller or turbine powered craft. The hovers he normally saw were usually something small like trucks or large transports similar to the liner that brought him back home. He had never seen a ship like this. It was shaped like a rectangular block and he estimated that it was about a hundred feet in length, thirty feet in beam and forty feet in height. The edges of the ship were rounded off, and its bow protruded like an arrow, with windows lining either side of the craft. He took a step closer and noticed how the metal hull was fatigued with dents and scratches, and the paint was chipped and peeling.

  A hatch on the side of the craft squealed open, and a gangplank lowered from the hull as Vermilion appeared at the entrance. “Not much to look at, I know. I can see by the look on your face that’s what you’re thinking. But she is sturdy and will get us to our destination.”

  “I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Breeze exclaimed.

  “Oh, well, yes, you are correct. They don’t really make them like this anymore, to say the least. Nevertheless, young man, climb aboard,” Vermillion said, and disappeared into the interior of the ship.

  Breeze took a step up the gangplank, noting the rust spots that pock-marked the hull. Rust wasn’t something he was used to seeing in the desert, as there wasn’t much in the way of humidity. He stepped inside and immediately shrank back from the stench.

  Horton called out from the cockpit. “I do apologize for the odor. What you are smelling is mildew. Air conditioning went on the fritz before we left Perihelion and she had been sitting under the hot sun before we left. We’ll get the matter sorted out. In the meantime, take a seat and buckle up.”

  Breeze turned to look at the passenger cabin. It was empty and it reminded him when he woke up on the liner earlier this morning.

  He took a seat and slid over to the window. He looked out of it as he fiddled with his seat belt, almost expecting to see his father step out of the house and wave him goodbye. He never did.

  The hull shuddered and groaned as the engines spooled up and the ship lurched forward.

  Breeze watched the desert landscape sweep by when the ship abruptly angled up and accelerated into the sky with the engines whining at a full pitch. He took one last look back at his home before the ship plunged into the clouds.

  Jacob sat as still as a rock in the chair with his eyes closed as he listened to the transport accelerate and ascend into the sky. He sat in the chair for the rest of the day and into the evening.

  As the sun marched across the sky and toward the horizon, he never moved. Not even a twitch.

  Evening had descended and the moon had begun its ascent into the star filled heavens when Jacob’s eyes flew open. He stood up in one swift motion and marched out of the living room, down the hall and into the desert night.

  He walked quickly along the path to the shed as he appeared to almost glide over the terrain.

  He stepped inside and hit the light switch next to the door. As the overhead lights flickered on, he went to the row of cabinets above the work bench. He flung them open and pulled a can with a plastic lid from a shelf.

  He gently lowered it onto the workbench and sat on a stool. He removed the lid and reached into it, producing a handful of photographs. He looked at each one. A smiling woman. A laughing man. A young child shrieking with delight. Photo after photo of a happy life. He carefully put them back into the can, pressed the plastic lid to seal it, and then returned it back to the cabinet.

  He marched back out into the cold night and paused for a moment to scan the property. He could see the house with its lone
porch light casting a faint glow around it. In the distance he could make out the outlines of the foundry, and closer to him were endless piles of scrap metal. He fixed his gaze between two particular piles and nodded at a shadowy figure that stepped out from it, and then walked out into the open desert with his tracks fading behind him as he disappeared into the night.

  Moments later a spectacular explosion rocked the entire property. The house withered like matchsticks, while heavy sections of the foundry were vaulted into the sky and came down as molten chunks of metal.

  In the town of Conception, windows rattled and burst as the townsfolk awoke startled and confused. Many looked out through the remains of their shattered windows and witnessed a monstrous ball of fire erupting into the night sky, lighting up the terrain for miles.

  The fire squads were roused into action as they made the long trek out to the Corinth home and foundry, but they were too late to do much of anything. The area had been leveled. An investigation later revealed that multiple rows of gas canisters that ran beneath the property to fuel the foundry had malfunctioned and exploded. None of Jacob’s employees knew how it could have happened. The foundry had an excellent safety record. Alceron Beeks, Jacob’s foreman, was the only one who remained silent when questioned by investigators which created a cloud of suspicion about him.

  The town officials sealed off access to the property as they let the fire burn itself out. It was decided that it was far too dangerous to try and fight the fire, as there was no hope for survivors. Jacob and his son were presumed dead.

  The following night, a black clad figure descended from the sky, landing amidst the smoldering ruins. He sidestepped several hotspots while slowly walking around the wreckage as his sleek black pressure suit reflected some of the flames that still burned. He stopped where the shed once stood.

  He looked around before settling his gaze upon something on the ground. It was partially burned photograph. He reached down to pick it up. His blank face flickered briefly with pinpoints of light as he stared at the picture, then he dropped it and flew away.

  The following day, when the hot afternoon sun was at its peak, a disheveled man pushing a carriage filled with scraps of metal was scavenging amongst the ruins when he found the photograph that the black clad figure held earlier. He smiled at the picture of a young couple holding a baby boy and it reminded him of better days when he had a family.

  He carefully placed the photograph into his carriage and continued scavenging.

  FOUR

  AS THE TRANSPORT DESCENDED from the clouds and began shuddering from the turbulence, Breeze banged his head against the window when the ship bucked violently. He grimaced from the pain as he rubbed his temple. It had been a long journey, with most of it spent flying at a low altitude to avoid detection. They traveled mostly at night, landing early in the morning to hide the ship in ravines or in valleys. When the evening arrived, they ascended and continued their journey, always flying just above the treetops. The agents explained to him that by doing so they could avoid detection from any hostile raiders flying at higher altitudes. There were also bandits on the ground who were scanning for ships on the horizon so they could bring them down with surge weapons that knocked engines offline. Once the ship crashed, they would plunder what was left of the wreckage. The metal alone was worth more than a human life, they told him. Breeze fully understood, coming from a family that was in the scrap metal industry. As for what they would do to any surviving passengers, the agents did not elaborate.

  Breeze was alone in the passenger cabin for most of the journey. Though Horton and Vermillion came to check on him occasionally, they spent most of the time in the cockpit with the pilot, or running down the aisle to check on an alarm from the engine room in the stern of the ship. When they passed by him they always had a reassuring smile that carried an undercurrent of anxiety beneath it.

  The pilot was an enigma. Rarely seen during the night flights, he hardly spoke when they landed for the day. He always climbed up a ladder behind his seat and disappeared into a cabin above the cockpit. Once, Breeze was able to catch a glimpse of his face. The eyes had a mechanical appearance, and when the pilot would walk, it was stiff and awkward. The pilot caught Breeze staring at him after landing on the second morning. He quickly turned away, raising a hand to shield his face. From that point on, the pilot always descended from his cabin wearing a full face helmet with a respirator attached to it. Breeze asked Horton why the pilot never seemed very social. The agent laughed nervously and explained that the pilot needed a lot of rest because flying so close to the ground stressed him considerably.

  The ship itself was old and musty. The seats were worn out and faded, and it didn’t matter which one he chose as they all felt uncomfortable to him. The armrests squeaked loudly every time he lowered them and the lap belts never latched together, and occasionally popped open on a whim.

  The lighting was dim and unreliable. Half of the cabin would be lit, and the other half would flicker intermittently between faint light and total darkness. Breeze wanted to get up to explore the rest of the ship during flight but whenever he would try a voice would crackle over the intercom instructing him to sit down for his own safety. The point would be made whenever the ship would suddenly rise up or plunge down rapidly as it would fly over and down mountains and valleys as it followed the contours of the land. The engines would throttle up and reach a crescendo with a loud whine as if they would burst into flames at any moment, then settle down to a soft rumble.

  During those times he would become ill and would close his eyes to quell the feeling of nausea that overwhelmed him. As the days passed, he acclimated to the ship’s rapid ascents and descents, and the waves of nausea began to fade.

  “You’re getting your sea legs!” Vermillion said to him.

  Breeze shrugged. “But I’ve never been to the ocean before.”

  The agent laughed. “It’s just an expression. Flying so close to the earth feels like we’re going up and down some really big waves in a small boat in the middle of a storm.” He emphasized his point by making a motion with his hand of a boat going up and down a huge wave. As if on cue, the engines throttled up again to fly over a mountain, and then whined down as they glided down the other side. The descent made it feel like his stomach was flying up, creating a temporary sensation of weightlessness.

  Whenever they landed was the only real opportunity to look around the ship. He wasn’t reassured by what he saw. The rest of the ship was just as run down as the passenger cabin. Unlocked doors would lead into storage lockers filled with old and broken electronics. Some were just empty and full of dust.

  The bunks where they slept during the day were small and claustrophobic. Breeze’s cabin was no bigger than a closet. He had to shut the door behind him once he entered, otherwise there wasn’t enough room to pull a latch along the wall that dropped the hidden bed down. He climbed into it and immediately looked up at sunlight pouring through the window above. When he complained to Horton about it the first day, the agent apologized, explaining that the automatic shading system was malfunctioning, advising him just to pull a sheet over his head to block out the light.

  Breeze groaned. “But it’s so hot inside the bunk, and the air conditioning barely works. Let me guess, it’s also malfunctioning, right?”

  Horton smiled and shrugged.

  Going to the bathroom was an ordeal. He would roll out of his bunk and recess it back into the wall to gain the space needed to open the door. Then, make his way down a corridor to a bathroom that looked like it came from a prison. Everything was made of stainless steel that was always cold to the touch and he would let out a yelp every time he sat on the toilet. He was instructed not to flush too often as they never knew when they could land safely next to a lake or river to refill the water tanks.

  When they would take off in the early evening, he would sit down in what became his
favorite seat in the passenger cabin. It was located on the starboard side of the ship and midway along the aisle. He would gaze out the window at the moonlit land and marvel at how desolate it was. Miles and miles of wide open country with hardly a soul to be found, though now and then he spotted a lone settlement nestled somewhere in the hills or in a forest. Sometimes he picked out campfires of what was either a wagon train heading out to a new settlement, or bandits settling down for the night. He was curious as to why whenever he saw the faint glow of city lights in the distance, the ship would steer around it.

  “We don’t want to attract any attention.” Vermillion explained to Breeze one night. “Most cities have a defense system to protect themselves from raiders. Since we are not willing to answer any hails over the comm systems and announce our intentions or flight plan, it’s always best to stay out of range.”

  The ship left a mountain range that gave way to rolling hills. Hills turned into a long, flat plain as they continued heading east toward the ocean. Breeze was appreciative of this landscape, as his stomach didn’t heave up and down so often. He looked out his window at the moonlit treetops they skimmed over. The land seemed so peaceful that it was hard to believe any danger could be found there.

  His daydreaming abruptly ended when the cabin was suddenly filled with a shrilling alarm. The overhead lights switched to a red glow as Horton rushed past him toward the cockpit.

  “What’s happening?” Breeze called out.

  “We are approaching the coastline!” he shouted back.

  Breeze leaned over to look down the aisle as Horton opened the cockpit door and saw the glowing eyes of the pilot reflecting off the windscreen. The numerous display screens and gauges that were normally spread out before him were powered down and replaced by a single lighted screen with an icon of a floating box in the center. The cockpit lights phased from a soft green to a reddish glow as the pilot turned to Horton and spoke in a mechanical tone while pointing at the screen. Horton nodded his head vigorously and shut the cockpit door.