by Ryan Dunlap
Once alone, Ras found a seat on the ground next to his late father. He sat silently for a few minutes, unsure of what to do, then finally spoke. “So…mom’s doing all right.” The words hung in the air. He knew what he must have sounded like talking to what remained of his father, but he needed to speak his piece. “It was tough for a while, but she’s better now. Nobody new. She wouldn’t even look at someone else. Every day we just expected you to come back, y’know?” He took a deep breath. “I wish I could actually talk to you. About life…ships…girls. Well, one girl, but you probably knew that,” he said in a lower volume. “You know how they say it’s like time stops when you meet the right person? I think they got it mostly right.
“Being a Lack has its upsides, I’m learning. When you’re with the right person you don’t feel the void so much. I guess it makes more sense why mom wanted you near. I probably reminded her of the void only you could fill.” He sighed. “I wonder if you’d have made it further if mom had gone with you.” Ras sat for several minutes, taking in the sounds of the night. He eventually stood and brushed off the dirt from his pants. “I know you did what you could.”
The concept of burying a body was foreign to Ras. When people passed away on Verdant, they were set adrift among the clouds to find their ways through the fog to the abandoned ground. But now seeing what had become of his father, the only thing Ras could think of to get any closure was to bury the body.
Everyone lands somewhere, and underneath the shade of The Silver Fox seems as appropriate as anywhere.
He wiped away the freshly emerging set of tears, remembering waving to the ship years ago as it set off form Verdant. His mother would take shallow breaths to keep from crying for his sake. The imagery was too painful to dwell on.
His father needed burying.
Ras climbed aboard The Silver Fox where the nose met the ground, searching for the best tool he could find for digging up dirt. Rust and moss covered much of the dead airship. A large portion of the deck had been eaten away, most likely by fire, judging from the state of his father. The glow of the moonlit fog illuminated the gaping hole in the deck, showing the hold. The collection tank his father prided himself on lay shattered, its sharp edges glistening.
Tiptoeing along the railing, he made his way to the Captain’s quarters’ door. Its hinges creaked in protest as Ras pushed it open. The small sea of empty bottles collected at the front of the room clinked out a tune.
Dad didn’t drink, Ras thought as he stepped inside. At least not this much. Or in front of me. He moved past the last of the bottles, turning and making his way to the upright wardrobe. Opening its doors, Ras coughed at the musty smell.
Most of Elias’ clothes remained, reminding Ras of long summer days when he would raid the wardrobe to pretend he was his father.
He selected a long, dark blue coat that Elias had worn as a younger man in Verdant’s ragtag defense fleet. The coat was thicker than a wind merchant needed in Energy warmed skies, but Elias considered it good luck and wouldn’t part with it despite Emma’s prodding.
Ras had always thought his father looked like a hero from Callie’s books when he wore it. Elias would let the coat envelop little Ras during their flying lessons.
He slid his arm into the sleeve, almost pleased that the coat once again could humor the boy pretending to be the hero.
Shouts in the distance snapped Ras from the memory. He slid back down to the bottles and through the door. He could see an argument breaking out on the bridge of The Brass Fox between Dixie and Four. He couldn’t make out the words but the harsh tones filled in the gaps.
“Hey!” Ras shouted, garnering their attention. “What’s going on?”
Dixie began to yell back, “They’re trying—” until Four struck her in the head. She crumpled. Ras’ eyes went wide and he dashed from the bridge down to the sloped deck. Upon reaching the ground at the bow of The Silver Fox, he saw Thirty exiting the bay door of The Brass Fox, clutching Ras’ large wrench from Derailleur.
“Thanks for flying her to the boneyard for us. Makes the process so much easier,” the white-haired man said.
Ras spotted Callie’s frightened face through the Captain’s quarters’ porthole, and Four delivered a kick to the downed Dixie. Callie yelled Ras’ name as she pounded on the window.
Ras’ father lay unburied after the process these men hoped to repeat with him. Callie was trapped, Dixie was knocked out, his ship was soon scrapped, and he was unarmed. Something broke in Ras, and he had one thing going for him.
He was properly motivated.
Ras let out a war cry and charged toward Thirty, who held the large wrench at the ready. Ras didn’t fear the wrench. He knew its pain and he was too filled with rage to let the idea of a broken arm or rib deter him.
The smug look dissolved from Thirty’s face as the desperate wind merchant tore toward him. He panicked and swung the wrench too early.
Ras ducked, sidestepping as Thirty’s balance went off-kilter from the momentum of the tool. He landed a punch to Thirty’s ribs, turned on his heel and slammed his left elbow squarely into the man’s throat, whose gurgle indicated a failed attempt at a cry of pain.
Thirty swung the wrench again, catching Ras in the stomach.
The pain only fueled Ras’ fury as he wrapped both arms over the wrench, holding it to his body and slamming his head upward, squarely striking Thirty’s nose, disorienting the minion enough to rip away the makeshift weapon.
Ras delivered a kick to the knee of Thirty, interrupting the minion’s grab for the knife in the man’s boot. He tightened his grip on the large wrench and swung with both arms, connecting with Thirty’s temple and laying the man out flat.
Number Four looked over to see both his partner incapacitated and a fire-eyed Ras turning towards him. Four drew his musket and lined up a shot at the young man moving up the gangplank but stayed his hand, as Ras clearly intended to present him with a closer target.
Ras arrived on the deck with a wrench in his hand and malice in his heart. Four leaned casually on the railing, steadying his aim. “Funny how every single ship out here is picked clean.”
“We had a deal,” Ras said, seething.
“What, the one where we tell The Collective we have you and they come running? You do realize we don’t actually have to have you for that to work, don’t you?” said Four. He motioned with his pistol for Ras to drop the wrench over the side of The Brass Fox.
Ras held his arm over the railing, but retained a firm grasp. “You see that ship over there?” he said, pointing with the wrench.
“Yeah, it was one of our first.”
“That’s my father’s ship,” said Ras. A bit of motion beyond Four caught his attention.
“Family reunion, how sweet,” Four said, “Toss it.”
Ras took a deep breath and threw the wrench high over his head. A familiar bang and hiss of uncoiling cable filled the air as a magnetic grapple tore the musket from Four’s hands and continued onward to strike the airborne tool. The wrench/musket hybrid fell straight back into Ras’ outstretched hand.
Four looked behind him. Callie leaned out of the Captain’s quarters’ porthole with the grapple gun engulfing her left arm. The cable connected her directly to Ras, who busied himself with prying the musket from the magnet with little success.
Giving up on freeing the musket, Ras aimed the wrench/musket hybrid at Four. “You’re leaving my ship or this world.”
The grizzled man raised his hands slowly, palms open.
The moonlit sky grew dark as a labored screech filled the boneyard, distracting everyone onboard The Brass Fox. In the dense fog, a hulking black figure eclipsed the moon, arriving from the direction of Solaria and rapidly increasing in size.
It appeared Dr. O would indeed snag his dreadnaught.
Four used his opportunity to seize the taut cable next to him, jerking Ras off balance.
All squabbles about who possessed the gun on the ship became moot when it became a
pparent that the dreadnaught was on a collision course to crush The Brass Fox and every other airship surrounding it.
Ras tossed the musket/wrench overboard through the rope netting and made taking off his highest priority.
“Callie! Cut the cable!” Ras shouted as he began ascending the stairs toward the bridge.
“How?” she asked, looking the device over.
After failing to reel in the musket, Four began running toward Ras, throwing an easily dodged punch.
Using Four’s momentum against him, Ras hooked Four’s leg with his own, causing the minion to tumble down the stairs to the deck as Ras arrived on the bridge and worked the controls at the console to start up his one engine.
The groan of the behemoth grew deafening as The Brass Fox began its ascent. Behind them, a concussive shockwave caught up with the ship as the tail of the dreadnaught’s body collided with the ground, and The Brass Fox’s single engine revved as hard as it could with little effect.
Four finally worked free the musket/wrench and aimed it at Ras.
“Do you honestly think shooting the pilot is a great idea right now?” Ras looked up to gauge how many moments remained before the front half of the dreadnaught crushed them.
Too few.
He spun the wheel hard to port as The Brass Fox limped off perpendicular to the collapsing warship.
“C’mon!” Ras yelled at the console, smacking it. The ship lurched forward, spurred on as the dreadnaught’s front came crashing down, crushing half of the boneyard under its mass and narrowly missing The Brass Fox.
The impact shot out smoke and debris in a gust that sent The Brass Fox swinging violently side to side underneath its balloon.
A scream from Callie and the absence of Four alerted Ras to a severe problem. He set the ship’s controls to continually gain altitude and dashed down the steps to enter the Captain’s quarters, but ran into a locked and jammed door. He threw his shoulder into it repeatedly until it finally gave.
Inside, he found Callie half hanging out of the porthole.
“How do I detach this?” she screamed.
Ras ran up and hugged her around her waist, catching a glimpse of Four dangling below from the wrench on the other end of the cable. He braced a leg against the wall and pulled her fully back into the room. “Middle button! Reel him in!”
Callie pressed the button to start spooling in the cable as Ras grabbed it and began to pull hand over fist.
“Help me pull!” Ras said with a grunt.
Callie heaved back on the cable with Ras until Four’s arm swung into the frame of the porthole.
Ras grabbed the arm and stuck his head outside to see the ground disappearing beneath them into fog. He reached down and pulled something tucked inside Four’s belt.
“What are you doing?” Four demanded.
Ras examined Dr. O’s engine disabler, ignoring the question. He turned to Callie, grabbed her wrist, and worked the mechanism to cut the cable. “That is how you release the cable.” He looked coldly at Four. “And this is how you release the man that killed your father.”
Before Ras could act, the ship shook violently, causing Four to lose his grip on the porthole, and he disappeared with a scream and a whipping trail of cable.
Ras and Callie ran back to the deck and surveyed the night sky. They cleared the cloud level to find half a dozen Collective ships in hot pursuit.
“We’re so close!” Callie said.
“Close to what?”
Callie pointed to a set of cliff faces off in the distance. “The Wild.”
Another cannon salvo rocketed past the ship from behind. The explosion in front of them gave the full picture as three silver ships without balloons or biplane wings flew toward them. Their shiny metal hulls gleamed in the night’s light as they returned fire with a series of rat-tat-tat blasts. Dozens of small cannon balls whizzed past The Brass Fox, and many collided with the pursuing Collective vessels, sinking one of them.
“You don’t think…” Ras said.
“Elders,” Callie said.
The Collective ships overtook The Brass Fox, engaging in a clumsy dance with the nimble silver fighters.
The smaller ships darted about with pinpoint proficiency, firing their small repeater cannons at the medium-sized Collective ships. Thankfully they didn’t appear to have taken much note of the wind merchant vessel as a target yet.
Ras pushed down on the wheel, dropping altitude until they once again fell beneath the cloud level and out of the battle.
A loud series of booms erupted behind them. The Collective dreadnaught lost her engines, but still had her teeth and her mission.
Spinning the wheel starboard, Ras drove the ship into what evasive maneuvers she could muster. “We’re going to have to go back up!” Ras said, hefting back on the wheel.
“It’s worse up there!” Callie said.
“I’ve only got one engine down here. Up there I can kick on the Helios engine.”
Dixie began to stir, and Callie moved over to check on her.
“Callie, I really don’t know where I’m going without you right now,” Ras said. “There’s not much we can do for her.”
The Brass Fox once again lifted above the clouds and into the clear sky, rejoining the fray. Several blind shots from the downed dreadnaught ripped through the clouds far to port.
Ras focused his attention on the newest part of his dashboard. He flipped three switches to prime the Helios engine and pulled back on a knob to start it. A whining noise hummed to life below deck for a moment and then died.
Another two Collective ships, larger than their mini-cannonball riddled predecessors, joined the battle.
“Ras?” Callie pointed to the Elder ship diverting its attention from its battle with the Collective to The Brass Fox.
Ras whipped his head over, seeing the vessel while he furiously flipped the three priming switches once more. Again the Helios engine purred and died.
“Why?” Ras shouted, slamming the dash. The Elder’s mini-cannon roared to life behind them as Ras began evasive maneuvers. Several shots ripped through the hull behind them, forcing them to dive as chunks of wood and splinters flew through the air.
Ras helped Callie stand and once again hefted on the wheel. “Work!” he ordered, cycling the truant engine once more. The whole ship hummed, vibrated, and then roared ahead with a new vitality.
“Good girl!” Ras laughed. He pulled the wheel to port to avoid the next salvo from the Elder fighter and to assess the battle.
The two larger Collective frigates brought their full arsenal to bear, firing and connecting their deadly green beams with an Elder fighter. The vessel was incinerated, sending the rest of the squadron into evasive maneuvers.
A well-aimed shot from the other frigate clipped the Elder fighter trailing The Brass Fox, sending the remaining half of the small ship plummeting.
Ras surveyed the area, trying to regain his bearings. He felt a hand on his shoulder and saw Callie pointing to a specific point along the cliff wall. Ras nodded and jammed the throttle full ahead, leaving the heat of the battle, but not unnoticed.
Two of the Collective ships comparable in size to The Brass Fox broke off as the frigates concentrated on the last Elder fighter.
“Hal said the path is a maze. If we can lose them they won’t know where to go,” said Callie.
Ahead, the cliffs loomed and Ras saw dozens of canyon entrances of various sizes. “Which one?”
Callie stepped away from him, moving with a graceful, ethereal quality. Her blue eyes took on a slightly purple hue as she surveyed the different entrances. She pointed slightly starboard as she continued down the steps to the deck, walking toward the bow of the ship.
Ras corrected his course until her arm pointed directly in front of her. The Brass Fox entered the canyon Callie had selected, and moments later The Collective ships followed in its wake. Framer’s Valley came to mind, but Ras shunted the lingering memory as far away as possible.
The walls of the canyon started out wide enough for one of The Collective ships to pull alongside Ras’ starboard. It slammed against The Brass Fox, almost crashing it into the opposite wall.
“Ras!” Callie shouted. Up ahead the canyon split and Callie pointed to port.
Ras pushed against The Collective ship as they approached the fork in the path. Wood creaked and splintered as the vessels collided again.
The positioning plan worked, as The Brass Fox and The Collective ship separated to avoid smashing into the stone fork.
One ship was off course, but the other Collective ship, which had hung behind, still followed The Brass Fox as the path curved and twisted.
Ras shoved the wheel forward to dip below a rock bridge connecting the canyon walls. The Collective ship careened into it, but even this did little to deter it aside from creating a more generous gap between the vessels.
Callie pointed starboard as another fork approached, then port.
Port.
Starboard.
Port.
Port.
The intricacy of the canyon’s splintering architecture path amazed Ras. He looked behind him for a moment to see if his pursuers had lost their way.
They hadn’t.
“Port!” Callie shouted, bringing Ras’ attention back again to piloting just in time for him to see the rapidly approaching fork. The curve ended with a straightaway that led to the end of the canyon. “Dive!” She pointed to a cave entrance along the floor of the canyon.
“But we’re—”
“Dive! Now!” she shouted.
Ras shoved the wheel, descending sharply into the maw of the cave. The Collective ship continued straight and Ras heard a horrific crunch and series of explosions echo through the cave as pieces of a crumpled Collective ship rained down behind them.
Blind, Ras throttled back to a stop. “What was that?”
“Painted wall. Time is streaming out from this cave,” Callie said as she approached the bridge.
Ras grabbed the KnackVisions to see if they would provide any clarity. The Energy level in the cave was nearly nonexistent. He swapped them out for the green minion goggles and the vast expanse of the cave nearly took his breath away. “Callie, come look.” He then thought better of it as he propped the wheel and began walking over to her to prevent her from stumbling around the deck.