by Ryan Dunlap
Ras spotted two policemen patrolling the catwalk up by Flint’s office, still ignorant of the intruders, so he led Callie along the wall over to the mechanic.
The man had a buzzed haircut and a name patch that said ‘Sarks.’ “About time you two showed up. Flint wants to talk,” Sarks said, leading them toward a door marked ‘Employees only,’ then pushed it open.
They walked into the dark room with Sarks bringing up the rear. He flicked on a light switch and the door closed behind him.
Ras’ eyes adjusted to the light just as two mechanics grabbed his arms, both restraining him and reminding him exactly where the wrench struck him back in the alley.
A dozen other workers in mechanic jumpsuits lined the walls of the locker room, and Flint stood at the center.
Ras chose not to struggle.
“What’s going on?” Callie demanded.
Flint towered over her, holding the wanted and kidnapped posters. “Both have rewards attached to them.” He took another step toward Callie. “Care to explain?”
Ras began to speak, but a mechanic twisted his arm, turning his words to pained grunts.
“Not you. Her,” Flint said.
“He didn’t kidnap me. The Fox is technically my ship. Check the title. I bought it to retrieve something for Hal so he would save Verdant.”
Flint gave her a hard look, then flicked his gaze to Ras. “Is he the one that killed the last Convergence in The Bowl?”
“Yes,” Callie said. “But if you turn us in for a reward you’re sinking an entire city, and I’ll tell everyone—and I mean everyone that will listen—exactly who acted like a sky pirate and stopped the city’s last chance for survival over a little reward money.” She stood resolute as Flint’s eyes returned to her. “And I doubt you’d ever get another chance to work on The Kingfisher.”
Flint glared at her for a long moment, then looked to Sarks. “Get them some jumpsuits and back onboard their ship. Distract the cops.”
“Thank you,” Callie said.
“You drive a hard guilt trip, missy,” said Flint.
With a quick outfit change and an entrance through the bay door to the hold, Ras, Callie, and Sarks walked onboard The Brass Fox.
“We didn’t have time to test the Helios engine,” Sarks said. “But we’ll release the ship from the mooring after I leave the hold. You’ll hear three clicks. On the third, you’ll be pushed forward. Stay below and we’ll act like it’s an accident. Just turn on your engines once you’ve cleared the building and you should be good to go.”
“You’re being a lot nicer about this than Flint,” Ras said.
“I’m a Verdantian, born and raised. Got family still there I’d like to go back and visit sometime,” Sarks said. “I’m rooting for you.”
With that, Sarks left the hold. Ras walked over to inspect the Helios engine. It was covered in a shiny but flimsy chrome encasement with Helios logos stamped all over. The solid metal Windstrider engines were twice its size and looked like they would easily outlast the Helios.
Click. The ship rumbled, and Ras braced himself against an unfamiliar barrel next to the engine. Ras had never seen refined Energy fuel up close.
Click. Another shake. Ras looked at Callie. “You ready to be a navigator?”
Click. They began to drift and shouts came from outside.
“No, but I’ll get there.”
“You’ll be great,” Ras said, smiling at her.
Outside, the shouts continued and Ras could hear Sarks yell, “Stop it! It’s almost completely outside!”
“Subtle,” Ras said, then climbed the ladder to get above deck. Once up top, he maintained the ruse of being one of Flint’s staff by shouting, “Hold on, I got it!” He ran up to the helm and started the engines. They roared to life with a vigor Ras didn’t know was possible, and The Brass Fox took off with an uncharacteristic start.
Flint’s men had done their job well. Ras bobbed and weaved through traffic the short distance to the Eastern Entrance. “I’m going to need a Navi!” he called out to Callie, looking back at Derailleur. He couldn’t spot any obvious pursuers.
They looked to be in the clear, finally.
Foster Helios III’s face burned with anger. “We worked very hard to ensure that every cop sent to Flint’s was in our pocket! How did they get away?” The lackey walking down the hallway with him began to speak but Foster cut him off. “What have we learned from Flint?”
The man in uniform paused awkwardly. “He spoke nonsense.”
“I’ll take the information unfiltered, thank you,” Foster said.
“He said the pilot had a deal with Napier—”
“Burn his whole operation,” he ordered. “Make sure The Halifax is prepped for departure, and in the meanwhile, see if we can’t find out where they were headed.”
“Sir, your ship is supporting the engagement against the sky pirates outside Nalon. Pulling away now would—”
“I am well aware of the ramifications. I’m telling you where it needs to be. Now!” he barked. “I’ll just have to find them myself.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Local Legend
The Brass Fox hung motionless above a sea of perfect white clouds, completely alone. What little wind existed gently rocked the ship but did little more than bring tidings of aimlessness.
“I don’t know why it’s not working,” Callie said, “I’ve been practicing.” She held the small brass ball perched on three fingers, but the metal arrow wouldn’t budge.
Ras paced around her, examining the device from all angles. “I still don’t get how you can practice using a compass.”
“Hal said it has to connect with me or something.”
“So you’re its battery?”
“Right now I’m not. Either that or there’s nothing for it to pick up.” She held it high as though a few extra feet would give it what it needed before resting her arm. “The Wild is east of here, can’t we just start heading that way?”
“That’s what we’ve been doing, more or less.” Ras rhythmically tapped his fingers on the big wheel. “But the pass could be far north or south along the mountains bordering The Wild. We could be doubling our travel if we fly blind.” Frustration crept into his voice, and he hoped Callie wouldn’t suggest dipping below the clouds once more to see if she could pick up a heading down there. They had already tried it four times, up and down at various altitudes. “I’m going to go down and see if I can’t get the jetcycle running. Just let me know if that thing starts working.”
Ras descended into the hold as Callie started walking toward the front of the ship. He looked over at the vehicle that his mother would have killed him for owning. Elias used to have one, but had sold it as soon as Emma announced she was pregnant.
Dad. Ras reached into his pocket with the clock in it, fishing out the envelopes. He stuffed the one for his mother back in and pulled up an overturned bucket for a makeshift seat. He gently tore open the side of the envelope, and when he turned it over to fish out the letter inside, a picture fluttered to the floor.
He stooped down, collecting the small rectangle and brought it close. The photo was a candid shot his mother had taken. Elias was in his 30s, had longer hair than Ras ever remembered him having, and was leaning down to give little ten-year-old Ras his first flying lesson.
Ras hadn’t been able to sleep the nights leading up to his first outing and was convinced that if he didn’t touch the controls just the right way that The Silver Fox would plummet from the sky.
Elias had repeatedly told his son not to worry and that flying wasn’t so difficult.
“Dad?” little Ras asked, not looking up from the broken scoop intake his father had let him tinker with.
“Yeah, kiddo?” Elias responded as he hauled another crate of provisions up the gangplank.
“Will I get my own ship someday?”
Elias sat the box down and climbed the steps to the helm. “You better, because I’m going to need this one for
a while.”
“How long?”
“Years, and years, and years.” He ruffled his son’s hair and it fell in Ras eyes. “Better tell your mother you need another haircut before I get back.”
“I don’t like bowl cuts,” Ras said. “Why do you have to leave again so soon?”
“Because this time everyone in Verdant needs me to.”
“Did you get in trouble? You can tell me,” Ras said.
Elias laughed heartily. It was a deep and rich laugh and always made Ras feel like everything was right with the world. “No, no more than usual.”
“Mom says you’re in big trouble if you don’t come back.”
“That’s usually understood,” Elias said. He walked over and stood beside Ras next to the helm. “Ras, I need to tell you something.”
Ras stopped playing with the machinery, and looked up at his father.
“People are going to say a lot of different things about why I’m going on this trip, but I’m going to tell you the real reason up front, all right?”
“Yeah, dad.”
“It’s because I love you and your mother.”
“You don’t have to go for me to know that, though.”
Elias hid his tears by embracing his son. “Ah, that’s a very good thing to know. A very good thing indeed.”
Placing the photo on his knee, Ras removed himself from the memory. He took a deep breath and extracted the letter.
He didn’t want to read it.
There was always some comfort left that his father’s final, perfect message was out there waiting for him, but this was it. Elias the hero would have spoken his last, for better or worse. Best to treat it like tearing off a bandage. Ras began before he could over-think it.
My dear boy,
It is my chief wish that you never read this letter, and that it rot in the storage room of Orville’s shop until the end of time. But I find writing this necessary as I can’t guarantee what the wind holds for me…but therein lies the adventure of life and all its uncertainties.
The one certainty is that if you are reading this, then my time has come and gone. I can only hope that I made it count for the right things. That I stood for truth, took care of your mother, and imparted the necessary building blocks so that you, in your ripe old age, could be proud of the man you became.
I need you to take care of your mother now. She’ll still care for you of course, but she’s always struggled with being alone. If ever she meets someone new, please do your best to make sure he’s a good man.
There are so many paths your life can take you, and most will lead to the unexpected, but I would be remiss if I didn’t warn you that you will find following in my footsteps as a wind merchant difficult, if not impossible.
Your grandfather was a full Knack, and some of that was passed down to me, but as you probably know, I have failed to pass it along to you.
Your mother and I built The Silver Fox to be wind merchants together. What I didn’t know was that your mother has something about her that dulls the sensitivity of Knacks. I won’t use the slang, but it made tracking Energy with her by my side impossible. She thinks she’s bad luck, but that was the kinder of the options to tell her.
I hate to tell you this, Ras, but you share this trait with your mother. I don’t know if it is something you’ll grow out of, but I hope shedding light on this will keep you from taking an unnecessarily difficult path.
You’re smart, good with people, and can easily take things apart and put them back together far better than I ever could. You have such excellent strengths, Ras, and I hope you use them for a wonderful and successful life. No matter what, I have and will always love you and I wish I could be there to see the man you will become.
Be good, do good, love others.
Always,
Elias Veir
Ras let the letter drop.
I am officially a Lack. Dad always knew it, Ras thought.
It made so much more sense why he never had his bearings in the sky. He had never heard of someone who went so completely to the entire other end of the sensitivity spectrum as to be a detriment to those around them.
No wonder nobody took me on their crew when I was a teenager. His eyes began welling up. Don’t let mom be alone, don’t try to be a wind merchant. Sorry dad, zero for two there.
Ras considered crumpling up the letter but knew he would regret it. He couldn’t tell Callie. He didn’t want her to lose faith in her flawed captain. She threw away her future betting on a Lack.
A triumphant cheer erupted from above. “It’s working! We have a heading!”
The little arrow pointed east by northeast, and it stayed constant even if Callie twisted the device or moved around. Ras locked The Brass Fox on its course and did his best to hide his red eyes from her, which was no easy task.
“Are you all right?” Callie asked.
“The hold was stuffy,” he said.
“Well, I for one am so relieved that Hal didn’t entrust this mission to a dud,” she said, chuckling nervously, before lifting the orb and sighing with relief. “I think I even gave myself a bit of a headache trying to focus on getting it to work.”
“I’m sure we just hadn’t gotten a potent enough gust for it to register,” Ras said, “or something.”
“Wait, do I have to have this thing always on?”
“No, I don’t think so. Maybe check every hour. Once we get closer, though, it might be good to check more often,” Ras said.
“Do you mind if I pull a chair out here and read my library books?” Callie asked.
“Only if you read The Littlest Elder aloud and do all the voices.” Keeping up a cheery demeanor around Callie proved more difficult than Ras anticipated, but he did the best he could.
Callie rolled her eyes and left the bridge, leaving Ras alone with his thoughts.
The revelation of truly being a Lack focused and tinted his memories. No wonder I could get so close to a Convergence, but I had no business even chasing wind to get there. If I had read that letter earlier, would Verdant be safe? He wondered what his mother would have preferred her boy become instead of a wind merchant.
The Captain’s quarters’ door opened and Callie returned with The Demons of Bogues and one of the dining room chairs.
“What about the others?” Ras asked.
“I’ve already read the history of The Clockwork War on Verdant and, spoiler alert, The Littlest Elder finds his way home before the main gate seals his family into The Wild.”
Ras stared at the horizon as the winds began picking up. Below, the clouds moved quickly, turning more of a dull gray the further they flew. Hours passed and very seldom did he see the speck of another ship on the horizon. Callie would occasionally check the compass and Ras would alter course by one or two degrees.
With the sun setting, the black clouds skittering with light drew Ras’ attention. Deep booms reverberated through his chest. “I don’t think we’re going to want to anchor below tonight.”
“Are we going to have to fly through the night?” Callie asked.
Ras shook his head. “If there’s a city nearby, we can dock. Maybe see if I can buy some new grapple gun charges if I’m careful. It makes me nervous flying without any.”
“Won’t someone spot The Fox?” Callie asked.
“Doubt it. She’s based on a popular model,” Ras said. “Besides, it beats getting struck by…what did you call it?”
“Lightning.”
“That’s it. I doubt the ship would react well to it.” Ras locked in their course and pulled out a tube from underneath the console. He extracted a map from its container and pressed it firmly to the dash to keep the wind from whipping it away.
Callie closed her book and stood. “Anything nearby?”
“Well, we’re coming up on Crispin, but Bravo Company downed it before attacking Merron.” Ras said, pointing to a big X over the illustration of a city. Ras moved over slightly to let Callie investigate.
“Look, there’s a little dot next to the X,” Callie said, leaning in close. “New Crispin?”
“I don’t know. Let’s see…” Ras mused over the map. “We’re maybe half an hour away if the wind’s with us.”
She held up the brass orb and compared it to the compass. “Looks like it’s right on the path. Can we at least check it out?”
“New Crispin it is,” Ras said.
With a new course plotted, they were able to rest easy for the remainder of the afternoon. Callie took breaks from reading to fashion a holster for Ras’ new wrench. She had called the holster dashing when he first tried it on, which, unbeknownst to her, was a salve to his tattered ego.
The sun began to disappear beneath the roiling clouds as they approached a structure of several dozen vessels cobbled together. The mostly empty docks, if they could be called such, led to a settlement whose sole source of illumination was its engines.
“Why is this even here?” Callie asked.
Ras looked down at the Energy level indicator. “The air is rich here. I’m guessing even after they lost their city, wind merchants made this out of some wreckage so they could still pull big hauls,” Ras said. “But The Collective isn’t around anywhere to buy their Energy.”
“That’s good for us, I suppose,” Callie said. “I’m kind of regretting reading The Demons of Bogues now. This place looks like a ghost town.”
“If it was abandoned, it would have to have been recently. The scoop engines are still keeping it up,” Ras said. “Might still be worth a scavenge while the storm passes.”
The Brass Fox’s engines shut off at Ras’ command and the ship glided silently into an empty slip. A young man escaping his teenage years appeared from somewhere Ras didn’t notice, wearing an odd looking checkered hat with ear flaps. He stood, ready to catch the rope.