The Blood Racer (The Blood Racer Trilogy Book 1)

by Winchester, Matthew

  I immediately cried out with fright, having been startled by the sudden blast and the accompanying shock wave, but when I whipped my head back to gawk out my port side windscreen, a totally different sound emerged from me, one of horror and shock. Killian's ship was listing toward the Veil, completely engulfed in flames. Before I could even wonder what exactly had gone wrong, I heard the sound of automatic gunfire. We were under attack.

  My first thought was of Audra, that she had caught up with us and she was pulling out all the stops. Through the storm-darkened sky, I could see glowing tracer lines from the bullets she was firing, but I couldn't see where her ship was. In the Foxfire, Darby swooped low, probably to search for signs of life on the Allegro. I was fighting turbulence like crazy, and lost sight of her. I thought I heard more gunfire, but the rattling of my ship was too loud to distinguish it. To my starboard, though, I saw some more bullets blazing through the air. In that instant, in the blinding flash of a lightning bolt, I saw that it was not Audra who was firing at us. It was the Amber Sphinx. It was Grace Buchannon.

  "Rigel, move!" I screamed. As if he'd heard me, I watched the Alpha Red tuck into a roll and dodge out of sight. I couldn't stay with him, unfortunately. Between the wind havoc and the gunfire, I had to pull up as hard as I could, cranking the yoke back to get the Kicker to climb. I hadn't gone more than a couple hundred feet when I felt the air shift beneath me, and I lurched to the port side.

  For a split second, I felt the weightless sensation again, like back in the Citadel. All the objects in my cockpit that weren't strapped down were suddenly floating around me. My satchel, random shipping manifests and receipts, the metallic capsule from Shiloh, they all went crashing to the floor when my wings caught again. From my cargo hold behind me, I heard all manner of things thumping and jostling. With a glance in my rear-facing mirror, I saw one my hydro tanks rolling around the floor of the hold.

  I cursed loudly. I couldn't leave it there. If it hit something just right, it could crack a seal and the gas would leak out. That would be all kinds of bad.

  Ignoring the obvious danger, I spun my chair around and stepped into the hold. That hydro tank had to be secured. As I moved, I could hear the rain pelting my hull, and the thunder was beginning to clap loudly. I was in the storm now. I needed to be fast. Instantly, however, I found myself slamming hard onto the grated floor of my cargo hold. The entire ship had shifted under my feet, and I didn’t have the chance to catch my balance.

  My knees and hands were aching, and my helmet had slid down over my face, but I got to my feet and pushed it up off of my forehead. My goggles had dropped onto my eyes, however, and something was wrong.

  Instead of my normal vision, everything was dark, like a tint had been engaged. The strangest part was the fingerprints, which stood out in a blue-ish glow. They were all over the walls and the ladder, even on the floor. Aside from the prints, there were all sorts of glowing oil stains and grease splotches, things that I didn’t see normally but were suddenly visible now. Confused, I yanked the goggles off my head and blinked my eyes. None of the stains and fingerprints were there. I looked down at the goggles in my hand. Just what sort of wild features did Nichols put in these things?

  Another harsh jolt of turbulence brought me back to the moment, and I hurriedly moved to secure the spare hydro tank that was rolling around the hold. With the rain and thunder getting ever louder, I scrambled back up the steps to the cockpit and began to ascend once more. I didn’t know were Grace was, or if she was even still on the attack, I had lost sight of both Darby and Rigel, but I needed to get out of the storm.

  Rain lashed at my windows, coming at me on the wind’s furious gusts. It was all I could do to even keep my wings steady. Fruitlessly, I tried to look for a sign or Rigel or Darby, or even Grace. Had she turned back, away from the storm? Or was she cruising along above it, just waiting for me to emerge so that she could shoot me down?

  BOOM!

  I felt a small impact, and my very first thought was that I was being shot down like Killian. After a split second, I realized that a lightning bolt had struck my ship. It was unbearably loud, and it drew a frightened shriek from my lips as my instrument panel shot angry sparks at me. Even though there was a slight ringing in my ears, I could hear my engine sputter and wind down for a moment before my battery backups kicked in. My flaps weren’t electrical, so I still had control of the Kicker, but my console was dark. Most of my instruments, including my attitude gauge and my airspeed indicator, were totally fried. I knew that my transponder, the device that allowed race officials to see my ship’s location, had also been shut down.

  I slapped my goggles back on my head and pulled up hard. Maybe Grace was waiting for me above the storm, maybe not. I just needed to get some sort of visual bearing, and I was essentially blind without my instruments. My heart was hammering against my ribs, there was a cold sheen of sweat on my skin, and my extremities were chilled from the adrenaline, but I was breathing fairly steadily. All my skills as a pilot were being tested, and I was trying to handle it as best I could.

  It took only a short minute to finally burst above the black clouds and into the sun. The air was cooler up here, but my windscreen was clearing, and I could orient myself to the horizon. My compass seemed to be functioning now, so I wasn’t totally lost, but my solar batteries wouldn’t last forever. A few hours, tops. Maybe I could make it back to New Eden…if I could remember where it was.

  On my port wing, another ship suddenly appeared from behind me, and I felt a surge of panic arc through me before I saw that it was just the Foxfire. “Darby,” I breathed, thankful that she had made it. I still hadn’t seen Rigel, though, and it didn’t look like he was anywhere around.

  I glanced over into Darby’s cockpit, pointed at myself, and then drew a finger across my throat, signaling that I was done for. I thought about just calling her on the radio, but I didn’t want to get her disqualified too.

  Even though her face looked to be wet with tears, she gave me a smile and shook her head, motioning for me to follow her. I was confused, but when she diverted to the southwest, I steered my ship right after her, staying on her tail. I didn’t know of any place in the area that I could make a pit stop, but maybe she did. Then again, maybe she had no idea what was wrong with my ship, and she was just unintentionally leading us in the wrong direction. Either way, I didn’t have a lot of options, so I just followed her.

  We left the storm behind, and continued to the southwest for quite a while. The Veil was far below us, but I couldn’t shake the mental image of Killian’s flaming ship plummeting down into it. I felt an undeniable grief at the loss of a friend, but I couldn’t imagine what Darby must have been feeling. I wished that I could do something to console her, but I also was glad that I couldn’t. I was pretty terrible at that sort of thing, and I would probably just end up making it worse.

  Instead, I focused on something else, something that didn’t threaten to bring me to tears. I reached up for my goggles again and pulled them off of my head. They were still in that strange setting, the one that could see latent fingerprints and stains, with which my cockpit was also covered. I lowered the goggles and peered around me. None of the things were visible to my naked eye. Still confused, I began fidgeting with the eyepieces, trying to switch them back to the normal way. On the side of the right lens, I noticed a tiny button, about the size of a pinhead set into the brass. It looked almost like a small screw, but when I pressed it, the goggles changed again. Bringing them up to my eyes, I found that I could now see heat signatures through them. Cold things were dark, and hot things were white.

  “Thermal vision?” I said to myself.

  I clicked the button a third time, and the lenses returned their normal transparent state. No glowing fingerprints, no heat signatures, nothing out of the ordinary. If I ever made it back to Adams, I would make sure to ask Nichols just what kind of goggles he had given me.

  After we had gone for several hours, the sun had reached i
ts peak and was on its way down, and I was growing increasingly worried. My solar cells were still holding out, but it wouldn’t be long before they were drained. Unlike the more high-tech versions in the wealthier ships, mine did not have the ability to charge while they were in use. I had the tools to make the repairs, but I needed to a have a place to do it…and I wasn’t even sure if I had the spare parts I needed.

  Aside from all of this, I was hungry and thirsty, and my adrenaline dump from earlier had left me feeling drained. I tried to get my mind off of it, but the only other thing I could think about was Rigel. I had hoped that he would follow me out of the storm, but he hadn’t. I wondered if he made it out at all. Did lightning get him, too? Or was it Grace? Where had she even gotten that gun? The realization hit me fast. That was what she meant that morning when she said she had been making repairs. That’s why she was late to the speech. She had been attaching a giant cannon to her hull. How could she have done it without anyone noticing? The Archons would have surely been informed if one of the racers had been attaching armaments to their ship.

  Unless they’d already known about it.

  My mind was suddenly a live wire, sparking wildly inside my skull. That had to be what Grace and Beatrice had been whispering about during breakfast. They must have been planning it then. Of course it had to have been Beatrice’s idea, especially after the encounter I’d had with her inside my very ship. She had given me that barely concealed threat, the one about there being plenty of dangers in the race that could do me in. She had clearly been cooking it up all along. And she used Grace as the tool for the job. Even Archons needed a patsy if something were to go wrong.

  The thought sickened me. It also infuriated me. As if I didn’t have enough stacked against me! The Archons themselves were trying to send me into the Veil. I suddenly felt a burning sense of urgency. I wanted to get my ship squared away and get back to the race as soon as I could. There were plenty of people I needed to defeat…

  Ahead of me, the sight of Darby rocking her ship from side to side suddenly caught my attention. I leaned forward in my seat and stared out the windscreen, wondering what she wanted me to see. Through the thin, wispy clouds ahead of us, it became clear where she had been leading me. Like New Eden, it was a place I had never been. A floating city like no other, one that was never in the same place twice.

  Ravencog. I didn’t know how she knew where to find it, but there it was.

  Sparks had never done it justice. He had once told me it was as if someone had taken a small village and bolted it together in a giant clump. In truth, he was very right. But the sight of it was so much grander than I’d imagined. I plugged my radio cord into my helmet, but I heard nothing. I wondered if my earphones were shorted out, or if the city was being intentionally silent.

  The closer we got, the more incredible Ravencog was. There were so many pontoons! They floated above the city in a massive herd, all shapes and sizes and colors, and all of them looking oddly speckled from years and years of patching and painting. They were all tethered to the city with a series of thick cables, and they were kept in place by a massive net, which I guessed was to prevent them from escaping if they broke loose. The next thing I noticed were the large wing-like sails that protruded for probably a hundred feet on both sides, supported by metal booms that looked like they were used to help stabilized and steer the city itself. There were propellers jutting from various points in the city, as well, which were probably for extra speed.

  The buildings alone were a marvel of architectural engineering. The city itself was built into tiers, the largest being on the bottom, and getting narrower as it went upward. There were doorways and windows set in some of the strangest ways and places. Absolutely every inch of space had been utilized, even if that meant that some homes or shops were built crookedly or oddly shaped. An extensive system of wooden gangways ran up and down the sides of the city, spiraling around and around, going past all of the doors, and ensuring that every person or family had a way to get around.

  The lowest tier of the city, the largest one, had clearly been the base from which the rest of the city grew. It had actual buildings, ones made of stone, equipped with columns and - in one case - a small dome like the one in Shiloh. As I was gaping at the place, it vaguely occurred to me that I didn’t see any kind of a dock to land on. I knew that there had to be some way to land. After all, Darby and Killian both had kept ships here, and Sparks lived here. As we approached, my question was answered.

  Darby dipped down low, flying toward the lower reaches of the city. The bottom of Ravencog, which was rather round and bulbous, started to move. A large section of it began unfurling like a tremendous metal flower petal, revealing an entranceway underneath the base. Darby headed straight for it, and I followed her, slightly nervous about never having docked here before.

  As it turned out, there was plenty of space inside the base of the city. It was all one huge hangar bay, with several dozen ships docked on platforms that could be shuffled and rotated. I killed my engine and flipped on my turbines, which I was thankful were still functioning, and waited as Darby set the Foxfire down onto one of the platforms. Once she had been rotated out of the way, I was offered a platform of my own, and gingerly brought my ship down on it, lowering my skids with my left hand. It was much narrower than the cradles I was used to docking on, but I managed it well enough.

  As soon as I was rotated to join the other ships, which were all cramped together, I turned and made my way to the hatch. When I opened it, Darby was already there.

  “If you have valuables, bring them with you,” she said in a low voice. “I love my city, but some people don’t like outsiders, and they might steal from you if they get a chance.”

  I blinked down at her for a moment, and then gave her a nod. Her eyes were still slightly red, no doubt from tears of grief. We both knew why, of course, but if she wasn’t going to bring it up, then I wasn’t either. Hurriedly, I retrieved the satchel that Dan Canter had given me, and made sure everything I needed was in it. I thought about bringing my revolver, but I didn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression. Darby said that some people here didn’t like outsiders, so I didn’t want to seem threatening in any way. Then again, if someone was exceptionally unfriendly, I would rather have it with me.

  In the end, I scrambled up to the cockpit and retrieved it from its hidden compartment, holster and all. I fasted it around my waist, taking a moment to adjust it so that it looked as natural as possible, and then exited the ship with my satchel over my shoulder.

  The hangar was very impressive. There was a maze of catwalks and staircases that were interwoven throughout the space, strategically placed so that they would never get in the way of the ships or their platforms. I could see multiple exits, and could only assume that the hangar was accessible from a dozen different spots in the city above. There were plenty of people around, too. They were dressed in coveralls, most of them carrying tool belts around their midsections. I wondered how many mechanics it took to keep this place together and flying. Mostly, I wondered why they all seemed to be glaring suspiciously at me. Were they that paranoid of outside visitors?

  “Here,” Darby said, bounding up a spiral staircase that looked like it was supported by only a few wires. It didn’t give her any trouble, so I stomped up after her. We climbed to the top of the hangar and stopped just outside a thick-looking metal door.

  “It’s going to be pretty loud in here,” she said, looking over at me. “We’ll get some friends to help fix your ship.”

  I nodded, feeling very unsure of myself in these surroundings. Elements of it reminded me of the Gap. The cobbled-together structures, the rugged appearance of the citizens, it was all reminiscent of home. Still, it was foreign territory, and there weren’t many friendly faces…

  Shoving her shoulder into it, Darby forced the door open with a loud scraping noise, and guided me inside. She was right about the noise. It was exceptional. One glance around, and I could see why
. This was a machine room. Massive pistons were working feverishly against a nearby wall, and there were several men toting oil cans to keep an eye on them. All around us, massive gears were turning and working together. Some were small, some were large, and some were gigantic. I had no idea what they were for, or how they functioned at all, but they were everywhere. I guessed that everything from water treatment to electrical power to waste recycling all happened in here.

  In front of me, Darby pointed straight ahead, and we hurried over toward a massive console that had been tucked between two huge cranking gearwheels. The console had a small interface, but it looked like it was just part of an even bigger machine that went somewhere else. The console wasn’t what drew my attention, though. It was the hulking man that stood by it.

  “Reinhart!” Darby called, practically screaming to be heard over the cacophony.

  At the sound of his name, the mountain of a man turned toward us and started to approach. I tried, but the sudden stab of fear I felt caused my hand to flick toward the pistol on my hip. Thankfully, the man called Reinhart didn’t seem to notice. As he lumbered toward us, I couldn’t seem to comprehend just how huge he was. He towered over Darby and I. He had to have been nearly seven feet tall, and his colossal frame was nothing but muscle. He wore no shirt, so his monstrous physique was evident. As if this wasn’t intimidating enough, he carried a wrench on his shoulder that was as big as I was, and the hand that gripped it was made of metal. From the middle of his right forearm, his arm had been taken off. In its place was a terrifying metal hand the size of my torso. Unlike John Deseo’s, which had clearly been crafted for him, Reinhart’s robotic hand was much shabbier, and looked like it had been built from leftover scrap metal. I imagined that his real arm had once been caught in the gears, or some other machine, and had been sheared off like the end of a jagged wire.

  He reached up with his normal hand and scratched the enormous scraggly mustache above his lip. “Hey there!” he bellowed, his voice powerful enough to be heard clearly. “Is the race over? Where’s Killian?”