by G R Fabacher
As the smoke cleared an orange multi-missile arched through the air, breaking up just as it reached Jurza. The small spread of multiple magical blasts blew his Ogre apart.
“Oh shite!” Damon said. Shaya put down the woman who fired the rocket by throwing one of her elven daggers with an enhanced flick of her wrist.
“Go get Jurza.” She said.
Damon almost asked why, but decided that there was a good chance Jurza wasn’t alive anyway. He mounted the blackened and mangled wreckage of Ogre that was the heavily-armored center. Reaching over and pulled the manual releases, having to twist a few handles and hammer on the chassis a bit to get the runes to work. The chest piece was supposed to blow off, but it made a feeble pop and Damon tore away the plate. “Aw shite, he’s still alive.”
Jurza pushed Damon’s head out of the way and climbed down. His skin suit was shredded and burned in more than one place. Once he was down on the floor, he turned his head spat purple-blue blood on the ground. Several pieces of shrapnel were embedded in his face and torso, but he seemed not to notice. The massive orc only slowed to pull a chunk of metal out of his hand. Other pieces were already pushing out from his race’s regenerative abilities.
Damon gave the orc his Union rifle. Jurza pushed past him and headed toward the void-ship. “Let’s kahking finish this already.” The orc grumbled.
Damon walked beneath the hole in the ceiling of the hanger and used his vox to call Sparky down.
“Time to go.” He said as he watched her float down to the hanger deck.
“Hey question, why can’t you break the wards on the ship?” He asked as they walked over to where Boudira and Joyride were arguing.
“It’s not the same. I mean there’s a lot that looks the same, but techno-runic magic and natural magic are just different. I feel it, and you guys use math… like I can just overpower some minor stuff, but modern security has… what do you call them, Boudira?”
“Shunts: they redirect raw focused magic back out into the world and can trip booby-traps. Now let me work.” She said over her vox.
Damon shrugged. It was all over his head anyway. Again the blissful ignorance involved in using the magical energy in his oven make popcorn reminded him why he had chosen music as his profession.
“Got it!” Boudira said. Damon nodded.
The door popped open and Shaya and Boudira moved through the ship. Damon, Joyride, and Jurza kept an eye out with Sparky to make sure no Union reinforcements reared their ugly heads. Damon didn’t know how the Union could get into the hanger as destroyed as the entrances were. However, he didn’t want to give that thought a voice, lest he invite the hordes of Union army grunts down on their heads.
There were a few muffled thumps and shouts. A few shots were traded and the ladies returned and said the craft was clear.
Shaya leaned her head out the craft’s hatch, “Guild dwarf’s in the back, everyone get on.”
Joyride sprung up the steps and soon the craft was warming up. The levitation matrices on the ship heated up and the struts were raised. Damon was last aboard, slapping the close rune. The ship moved toward the open exit to the hanger. The protocols on the ship allowed it past the wards without any additional coaxing from the Lich Corps’s resident pilot.
Joyride raised his faceplate and the ship was zooming away. The anti-aircraft emplacements of the Indomitable torched the sky. Damon watched as other hangers scrambled interceptors.
“Everyone not in armor may want to strap in!” Joyride shouted back, starting to laugh.
“We’re never going to outrun them up in the open sky like this.” Damon said.
“I know!” Joyride shouted, “Isn’t it great!”
The craft dropped into a steep dive as the Union ship plummeted toward the skyline of the largest city on Duamatt.
“Joyride, those buildings are getting really close!” Damon shouted.
Oslo laughed and pulled up feet from the tops of several of the taller buildings. The Union fighters from before screamed by overhead. Damon heard them through the walls of the stolen craft.
He made sure everyone was strapped in before climbing up into the cockpit.
“So, Joyride, what’s this bird got for weapons?” He asked.
“None, isn’t it fantastic?” Joyride’s green eyes glinted maniacally.
Damon didn’t need to strap in, his armor locked him into the seat. He quickly patched the ship’s looking glass system into his helmet. He saw the two angry red dots of the enemy fighters head upward and then fall into a loop to come around behind the transport.
“We have ships with weapons behind us.” Damon said.
“Yep.” Oslo said, pulling back on the throttle before banking to the right and slamming the throttle all the way forward. The warbling hum of a magical engine rose as the transport ship shot around the corner.
“Bridge, bridge, big footbridge!” Damon said.
Joyride pushed forward on the yoke and dipped beneath it. It was no stretch of the imagination to figure out where Oslo Durbray got his nickname. One of the fighters followed high and the other ducked low.
“Stop bitching and moaning, Bard.” Oslo said, “They’re not going to shoot us. We have their guy, and we’re in a civilian area. You can’t shoot missiles and flechettes where it’ll kill good Union proles.”
Damon winced and waited for the inevitable baptism of missiles and flechettes, but they didn’t come. “Huh, I’ll be damned…” he said.
“And that’s why Gloriana tolerates the Lich Corps.” Joyride said. “We do all the civilian shooting and dangerous shite.”
Damon felt his fingers clutch the armrests of the seat. He didn’t give any thought to Joyride’s running commentary. He was too busy being slammed to the left as the craft banked around another corner.
“Damn, how are those fighters keeping pace?” Oslo said.
Damon prepared a snarky comment about military engineering, but his attention was drawn to two larger contacts moving onto the starboard and port sides.
“Uh, what are those?” Damon said point out of the crystal windows of the transport craft.
“Those are trouble. They can stop us dead in the air.”
“What do they do?”
“They set up a null field between them and put us in a cage of magical energy. Then they can board us.”
“Like how they’ll stop speeders on the roads?” Damon said.
“Yep.”
Damon took a deep breath. “Well, I’m not going to let that happen. Hold it steady.”
He moved to the boarding hatch and yanked it open. Air rushed in, emptying the cabin of all loose debris.
“Oops.” He walked over to Hellaina. “Gun, please.” She handed him to pistol and the clip of ammo.
Taking a stride, Damon flung himself out of the doorway. He slapped into the side of the port craft and skid down the side before his magilocks managed to stop him. Damon chanced a look down, and fought back a sudden wave of nausea. Using the magilocks and cranking up the enchantments on his armor he hauled himself along the side of the craft to the cockpit. The craft was larger and boxier than the fighters. It looked like a more civilian-friendly model of the dropship that had attack the squad on his first mission.
He started when the side slid open. He was too far forward to see what was contained within the belly of the beast, but he would have wagered good money that it was the null-field generator and a few boarders. Damon began crawling toward the cockpit again. He held on with three points of contact and extended his wrist blade.
Ramping up the strength enchantment beyond the normal threshold he punched clean through the side window of the bulb-like head of the craft, safety crystal broke into little beads while there was a momentary flash as he broke the minor protection enchantments. The pilot and copilot recoiled in shock and began to reach for their pistols.
“I should have seen if anyone else had a grenade…” He muttered as the two men tried to shoot him. Switching hands, he
pulled out the pistol and began shooting into the cockpit without looking. The large flechettes ricocheted around. Damon pulled the trigger until the gun clicked. Looking in he saw two dead pilots and that the control panel was smoking, magic popped wildly through the runic ley lines that kept the craft flying.
Damon was trying to figure out how to push the tortured ship over the edge when the console caught fire and the crafted started its death knell pitch toward the ground. Springing from the craft, he caught the transport by his fingertips. Paint peeled from the Union transport as the magical charms and magilocks kept him from following the other Union ship to its abrupt stop. He looked down as the Union craft plowed into a crowded street and slammed into the ground floor of a large skyscraper.
Damon hung from the side of the craft in paralyzed horror. A secondary explosion shattered whatever remained of the façade, blowing out every window within several yards of the crash. He looked on as the fire began climbing up the side of the building, soon Joyride was rushing away. Damon swore he could see the people on the street. Without its other half the detainment craft pulled back and let the fighters take up position once again.
“Get him inside!” He heard Joyride shout.
He felt someone grab his wrist. It was Jurza and Shaya. They hauled him into the open hatch and Jurza slammed the hatch shut.
“Ha ha! Hurmanza is a crazy man!” He slapped Damon’s shoulder. Shaya shooed him away. The half-elf pushed him into a seat.
“Damon, come on, Damon.” She shook him, hitting the switch under his jaw to pop the faceplate up. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” She pulled her own faceplate up. He looked into her eyes, but he couldn’t breathe.
“What did I do?” He said.
“It’s okay…” Shaya whispered. She carefully took the pistol from his hands and cleared it, going so far as to pop the magical battery from its housing and storing it in her armor. She sat down next to him. “Damon—”
The craft bucked. Damon slammed backed into his seat.
“Stay here,” Shaya said.
“Guys, I can’t keep it in the city, I’m running out of room and they’re gonna start thinking twice about not shooting at us!” Joyride shouted back.
“We need to get out of here anyway,” Jurza said, “I don’t want to be stuck here when our getaway driver has starts thinking we’re not worth picking up.”
Shaya stood up and looked out one of the viewports. “Seeing a lot of trees and industrial yards here, Oslo.”
“Yeah, working on it.” The transport jinked into a sharp bank, the occupants bracing hard against the forces.
One of the fighters pulled alongside the transport craft.
“Fugitive forces, you are in violation of several international and Serene Union of Hyperia Laws. You will power down the craft and submit yourself to the lawful orders of the Union military. You have ten seconds to comply.” The pilot’s amplified voice said.
“Yeah, we’re not big believers in the Unies’ justice system. Already got enough problems with our own.” Joyride said.
The fighter dropped back.
“Shite! Everybody down!” Shaya said.
The corpsmen in the seats hit the releases on their belts and dove toward the deck as the fighter opened fire. Crystal flechettes tore into the transport craft. Joyride managed to maneuver the craft down into a canyon. The fighter followed.
“Okay, not that there is a vote, but I’m going to head toward the underside of the Seat.” Joyride said. “Hang on!”
Oslo pulled up on the stick, everyone was pushed down to the deck all over again as the transport climbed out of the canyon. Most magical craft could operate in any direction, but non-magical physics also got a vote. The higher the speed of a craft the harder it was to suddenly change directions.
Damon’s head hit the bulkhead. If it weren’t for his helmet, he was sure he would have been knocked unconscious. Grunting he got to one knee as the transport leveled off, heading for one of a series of truly massive stone rings on the ground around the edge of the Seat of Heaven.
Lowering his faceplate and pulling up his link to the ships scryer Damon saw that the pilots of the fighters had managed to bring their craft around and were quickly catching up to Joyride’s stunt flying.
“After going up!” Joyride said, “Now we go down!”
“Oslo,” Shaya shouted, “you can’t go through the rings!”
Damon barely had time to grab Sparky before the craft plummeted into a steep dive. Damon held on to Hellaina as the magilocks kept him from sliding up toward the transport’s tail. The boundless mountains were not small, especially not the Seat, and the transport traveled for several seconds at maximum speed in a straight course toward the earth below through the floating mountains.
Damon looked into his display again and saw that both fighters were persistent in their pursuit. They pulled
“Joyride—“ Damon yelled.
“Yeah, I see it. Duck!”
More flechettes sparked off the lightly-warded transport craft. Even more flew through the fuselage. The lights in the passenger cabin dimmed. There were also numerous warnings about magical over saturation, and Damon swore he saw ley lines sparking in the command console.
“Oh, gorgon shite…” Joyride murmured.
“What?” Damon said.
“Nothing.”
“What?” Shaya said.
“Nothing, guys. Really.”
More flechettes, but this time Joyride was ready for it. The craft pulled hard to port.
“What!” Everyone shouted at once.
“Okay, okay, the conduit runes took a few hits, and we’re losing power… because of the ring’s float spell. All I need is just a little bit of room.”
The hijacked craft cleared the giant borehole and Joyride yanked back on the yoke to level them off. There was a worrying pop from the cockpit and the power simply vanished. Gravity yanked the powerless craft to the surface. The craft began to whine and protest as their pilot tried to coax the ship back to life. Joyride pushed and pulled on the yolk to keep the craft in a poor excuse of a level glide. Without power, however, the most he could do was turn their descent from straight down to intersection with the ground at an acute angle. Modern magical craft weren’t designed to fly unpowered. More sickly groans from the ship and the craft came back to life. Joyride began to a bank away from the boundless mountain. Jurza’s hands were in the air while he whooped in abject joy.
“Oslo, was that your plan?” Shaya said, “Were you going to go under the Seat?”
“No, obviously not. We didn’t have power and even if I did if I were to touch our magical field to the Magi-created field of the Seat of Heaven, we would be nullified and crash to the ground. Resulting in a horrendous fiery death.” He said.
“Why did that just sound like he quoted it from a textbook?” Sparky asked.
“Yeah, everyone knows I can’t read.” Joyride said.
“Then what about the rings?” Damon said.
“Oh yeah, no, those are only dangerous if you don’t fly right down the center of the ring.” As if to prove his point both Union pilots more aggressive craft design must have grazed the magical field running along the inside of the borehole because everyone in cockpit watched the two craft instantly go dark on the scryer as their magical energy cut out.
Shaya looked out the viewport and saw the two craft falling out of the ring and then two pods separate from the ailing craft, “The two Unies punched out.”
“And we’re clear.” Joyride said.
“No way he planned that.” Boudira said as she extricated herself from beneath the seats.
“Hey, that is the textbook definition of a Plan B.”
“I’m scared to ask what Plan A was.” Hellaina said.
“Just set us down and pop the retrieval beacon.” Shaya interrupted.
“I’m gonna see if our cargo made it through in one piece.” Jurza said. “Hate all this to be for nothing.”
S
haya groaned, “I completely forgot he was back there…”
Chapter 11
Jurza deposited one slightly rumpled, bruised, and frazzled dwarven scientist in front of the corpsmen. They were all waiting for the Gryphon to make its decent from orbit and communicate its chosen landing zone to the corpsmen.
“He hasn’t stopped speaking dwarvish since I opened his cabin.” The orc sat down on a seat and crossed his arms across his massive chest. “It’s starting to get really annoying.”
“Boudira?” Shaya asked.
“Just because I’m a dwarf doesn’t mean I speak dwarfish, you know. I was born in the Republic.” The dwarf leaned on her hammer.
Shaya held up a mollifying hand. Turning to the scientist she asked, “Can you understand me?”
“Aye, I can, and I don’t know what yeh daft loonies want with me, but dinna expect gratitude for nearly scrambling my eggehs on the bulkhead.”
“Yeah, that sounds like a thick Kondarian Low Lands accent to me.” Boudira said.
Everyone around her fixed her with a stare.
“I didn’t say that I didn’t know some dwarvish languages. I just don’t like when people assume I do because I’m the corps’ only dwarf.”
“Bah” Gulbroch said, “Yeh got not pride in yer heritage, speakin’ bog standard Common Pidgin like a good Republican dwarf, bet yeh love the sun, too.” He spat on the ground, or at least made the token gesture. There was no way any dwarf was lowering his shade suit’s faceguard to properly animate his spite.
Boudira scoffed and looked away, deciding to pay more attention to her hammer.
“We made sure the dwarf wasn’t bleeding out of either liver or his heart, can we put him back where we got him from?” Jurza said.