by J. C. Staudt
I was sailing, floating like a leaf in the wind. I wiped a clear spot through the window fog and tried to look down through the glass, but the clouds were so thick I still couldn’t see where I was going. In short order, I found that the joysticks now controlled the parachute strings. This was fortunate, because if they hadn’t, I would’ve missed Grimsley by about a quarter mile. As it was, I pushed forward and sailed in past the edge, gliding over an early-morning meadow filled with cattle.
Then I hit one. The pod’s nose smacked the animal like a sideways battering ram. My head hit the window with a smack. I heard the animal’s guttural complaint as the pod slipped free and rocked past, going much slower now.
I had expected to be jostled around when I landed, but the collision slowed it down so much that instead of sliding to a halt on its side, the pod simply swung away from the cow and settled down straight. The tip of the nose drove into the ground and stuck there, standing on end like a pencil in clay.
I opened the door and fell out, my bones weak and my head spinning. The parachute came down around me, a white blanket on a bed of grass and mud. The mud smelled like grass that had been through at least four stomachs.
I managed to roll over before the one stomach I owned lurched like a drunk trapeze artist. Muller Jakes, the human rocket, I boasted silently, as I vomited loudly. I didn’t stop until I was sure I had seen everything I’d eaten for the last week—along with a few things I didn’t remember eating. That business attended to, I crawled out from under the parachute and got to my feet.
“Son of a screwdriver… I’m still alive,” I yelled. I lifted a rude gesture with my good hand, pointing it in what I believed to be Roathea’s direction.
I heard the click-click of a shotgun behind me. “What in tarnation you doin’ on my property, boy? You better stick ‘em up, and right quick.”
I spun around to find a pair of barrels staring me in the face, wielded by exactly the type of guy I would’ve expected to own an accent like that. I put one of my hands up, shrugging the shoulder of my injured arm to show him I couldn’t raise the other one. “I would never dream of giving you the slightest hint of trouble,” I told him. “Just point me in the direction of the nearest property line and I’ll be out of your hair.”
“What about this here contraption you just planted in my field? Who’s gon’ get that out my hair?”
“I’ll come back for it later, I swear. If you don’t mind, though, I’m sort of in a hurry at the moment.”
He shoved the gun closer, poking me in the chest with it. I didn’t have time for this. The medallion surged. I grabbed the barrel and stepped aside, waiting for him to pull the trigger. The gun went off beside my head, a brand-new note ringing in my un-notched ear. I heard a cow cry out behind me. Yanking the gun from his hands, I flipped it over my elbow and snapped it open, pulled out the remaining shell, and shoved it into half a foot of mud, barrels first. Then I changed the subject. “You haven’t noticed a bunch of other ships flying around here tonight, have you?”
The farmer was speechless. “I… well… I reckon I saw some folk comin’ through around sundown.”
“Which way?”
He pointed.
“Great. What was your name, again?”
“Cletus Grimsley,” he said, still a little stunned.
“Thanks for the directions, Cletus. Sorry about the mess. Hope the cow’s alright.”
I took off at a sprint, the speed of which felt disappointingly normal. Producing the comm Blaylocke had given me, I bluewaved Chaz.
“Mull?”
“Yeah, I made it to Grimsley. I’m on my way to the muster point now. You can probably try flipping some more of those pods, if you want. Just in case. Not that I’d recommend doing what I just did. It sucked a lot.”
“One step ahead of you. We just finished flipping over the first. There are enough pods to get us all off of Roathea, if we need to.”
“Just don’t hit the big red button until the engine warms up.”
“I noticed that was problematic for you…”
“Yeah, well. Live and learn, right? Or die, and have all that learning go to waste. Just hang in there.”
“Are you sure you can get us out of this?”
“I’ll get you out of this, Chaz. But I’ll tell you this much… I don’t think you’re ever going to see Cordelia Foxglove again. Not after this whole ordeal.”
I could almost feel Chaz blushing through the comm. “Yeah, I figured as much. She’s a techsoul, anyway. What kind of future could I have hoped for with her?”
“That’s the spirit,” I said. “Let society dictate your life for you. I wasn’t talking about her being a techsoul. I was talking about her working for Maclin.”
“Oh yeah… I guess there’s that, too.”
“Anyway. I’ll call back soon,” I said, and hung up.
The motley little fleet of ships parked in the gravel lot near Grimsley’s town square was meager at best—nothing near the size I’d anticipated. As I strolled through the camp, my eyes were met with a familiar sight. Two of them, actually. My Ostelle, snuggled up next to Captain Ludolf Kupfer’s Vigilant, the most fetid bucket of law-loving bolts I’d ever laid eyes on.
My Ostelle, on the other hand, was looking mighty fine. They’d patched her up real nice since I’d used that hovertruck to give her a facelift, though I could still see a few flecks of raw metal where they’d hammered the railing back into shape. Loud voices from within the Vigilant’s aft cabin pulled my attention away for the moment. Guards were standing at the top of the gangplank, so I borrowed a spare rigging line from another boat as I walked past.
“Evening, chaps,” I said, ascending the plank.
“Stop right there,” said the guard on the left.
“No thanks,” I said, and kept coming.
He stepped onto the plank to block my way, putting a hand on his holster. I hopped once to get the plank wobbling, then tossed the tangle of rope over his head while he was trying to catch his balance. With my one good hand, I yanked him sideways and snatched his gun away as he drew it.
I shot the remaining guard, then shot the fallen one in the back. They were only pulser rounds, so I didn’t feel too bad about it. With them out of the way, I crossed the deck and slipped through the door into the Vigilant’s aft quarters, tucking the gun into the back of my pants.
The room was full of faces both familiar and foreign. Everyone I loved to hate was there, sitting on either side of a long table with maps spread out across it—Kupfer, Yingler, my parents.
“Well, slap me sideways… it’s all my favorite people in one place,” I said, stepping into the light.
Kupfer recognized me at once and gave the order I’d been expecting him to. “Guards—seize that man! Watch him, he’s heavily augmented.”
They nabbed me, one by each arm. It hurt like crazy when the Civvy grabbed me above the sling, but I didn’t put up a struggle. I was here for one purpose, and one purpose only. I had never doubted my ability to play both sides of a conflict. But to lead an army to near-victory and then betray them all in one day—well, that was a feat even I would’ve doubted I was capable of.
“He’s finally decided to turn himself in,” said Yingler.
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that if I were you,” said Kupfer. “Muller Jakes never shows up before he’s stockpiled a trick or two.”
“No tricks this time, Kupfer,” I said. “Just truth. And the truth is, you people are idiots. If you fly for Roathea at dawn, every last one of you is going to die.”
“I suppose you’d like us to sit by while the Regency falls, wouldn’t you?”
“The Regency has already fallen, you law-loving sack of filth. I almost died launching myself here in a rocket-propelled crayon just so I could warn you.”
“We don’t take warnings from criminal scum,” said Kupfer. “Gentlemen, escort him to the brig.”
“Kupfer, listen to me… unless there’s too much hot air in that
inflated head of yours to hear. There are close to eighteen-thousand troops on that island, along with gunships, artillery emplacements, and a host of transport vessels. You are throwing yourselves into a battle you can’t win. The Regent is trapped beneath the palace. Maclin has his family, and his escape route is blockaded.”
Kupfer brandished a look of amusement, leaning sideways in his chair. “Is that so? Then how did you manage to get away?”
I explained. Everyone laughed when I got to the part about the cow. Even my dear old dad couldn’t help but crack a smile at that. “Look,” I said. “I know I’ve been a menace. I’m a loose cannon, I’m unpredictable, and I’ve broken more laws than most people have had birthdays. But if you’ll let me help, I promise you we can win this. The Regent and his family are dead if we don’t do something. But attacking Roathea right now would be suicide. I think there’s another way.”
Kupfer rubbed his chin. “Alright, Mr. Jakes. What do you propose?”
I told them my plan. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best I could come up with at the time. Some thought it was crazy. Others thought it just might work. The one thing I was certain of was that it was a heck of a lot better than the alternative.
So maybe I was crazy. I’d have to be bonkers to team up with the people I’d been trying to escape for so long, right? But I needed them – at least, I did if I ever wanted to see Sable and the others again. Yeah, I guessed it was time to see what these law-loving jerkbags could do. Not much, in my experience. I just hoped they could prove me wrong. They’d have to; after all, the fate of our entire world was at stake.
Afterword
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