by RyFT Brand
grey smoke seeping from both of his Avi-star thrusters, sat my little flycraft. Actually my ex-flycraft as I’d granted the demon soul I’d bound to the industrial machine his freedom when I thought I was going to die.
“Ship!” DJ yelled. “What is Ship doing here? And what the heck happened o him?”
“Those are very good questions.” There was obvious battle damage to Ship’s armor plated hull, but all of it could have been scars left over from our dogfight with Toerang and his Krisskrossa. Even if Ship had been in a fight, and lost, why come to Uncle’s? Ship hated my guts…and everything else about me. Seemed like this would be the last place he’d come to.
Uncle’s garage was on a mostly residential street in a quiet neighborhood and the only being about was a tubby man out walking his dodo-berman pincher, a hideous dog/bird hybrid. But the sound of the crash brought a number of beings, both human and deferred species, looking though their wall transparencies and walking out through their semi-sentient doors and staring at the crashed flycraft.
I holstered my pistol. “DJ, we better get inside,” I said and reentered the garage.
“But what is Ship doing here?”
“Come inside. Uncle will sort it out.”
Passing though the door, DJ kept her eyes fixed on my old flycraft and she managed to bang the missile launcher’s nozzle on the door frame. “Sorry,” she said lowering the weapon. “This is so bizarre,” She said as she passed me and headed to the back room.
Uncle stood in the other bay in front of an older Expresscraft Brougham, the station wagon of flycraft and dammed ugly. With a whistle Uncle called his gravity deifiers from their storage space beneath his workbench. The three hovering discs floated in a circle around him at waist height. “You head downstairs and secure the hatch, there’re going to be some questions here.”
No sooner had he finished speaking then I heard Enforcer Corps sirens. Uncle crossed the bay in his long, soulful strides and walked out, his deifier discs followed him eager to lift whatever he needed lifted.
DJ was right, it was bizarre, mostly that thus far Ship hadn’t said a single word.