Cretaceous Clay And The Ninth Ring

by Dan Knight

  ~~~~~~

  With Shotgun beside him, Jack cast a light over the engine compartment, and they examined the generator.

  “Any ideas, Shotgun?”

  “No not really,” the dwarf reached into his satchel and pulled out his caster and a short cable. “If I can talk to her, maybe she’ll tell me what’s wrong.” He plugged the cable into his caster.

  Shotgun bent over the engine compartment and searched for a port. He spotted a likely port between the generator and the firewall. He inserted the cable. The caster blinked, and he studied the screen.

  “Found her, boss,” he announced with satisfaction. “I’m in the ignition system.” He studied the data, “She’s alive! Her battery is dead, and there are hundreds of error codes. I’m not sure if they’re critical. If we give her some juice, I bet she’ll start. After that, we’ll have to take our chances.”

  “Juice?” Jack held up his hands. “Where are the jumper cables? I’ll just make some lightning.” He leaned over the dwarf and peered into the engine compartment.

  Shotgun pointed to the battery. “Light her up, boss.”

  Jack took hold of the battery cables. “Ready?”

  “Careful, lightning will fry everything in the system. A hint of juice is all we need.”

  “Not to worry.”

  “Go ahead,” Shotgun fingered his caster. “Give her some juice.”

  Sparks flared off his fingertips, and his fingers tingled. “Anything?”

  “Nothing yet, give her a little more.”

  Jack made a little more effort, and sparks shot off the cables.

  A metallic screech startled him. His concentration broke, and the generator stopped and the turbine stalled. “Sorry, she almost started.”

  “One more time, boss,” said Shotgun. “Do that again and I can start her. Just don’t fry her brains.”

  Jack nodded, “Ready.” He repeated the spell, and sparks flew off the cables.

  The turbine fired up with a roar. The generator jolted back to life, and the flyer shuddered.

  “It’s alive!” said Jack.

  “Was there ever any doubt?” Shotgun unplugged the cables and stowed his caster. He waved a hand, “Best hacker in the business. Now, I can add hotwiring flyers to my list of skills.”

  “That will come in handy the next time we need to steal a flyer.” Jack levitated up to the moon roof. He kept a hand on the roll bar, and climbed in. He buckled his harness, and grinned at his dwarf.

  Shotgun grimaced, “Will she fly?”

  “One way to find out, let’s fire up the levitators and see if she’ll whirl,” said Jack. “Want a lift getting in?”

  “No, thanks, I’ll climb. I don’t want you to drop me.” Shotgun climbed up the flyer and slipped through the moon roof.

  The instrument panel was black. Only the glow of his ray lit the console.

  Jack pressed a few switches. A few dials and indicators lit up.

  “That’s an improvement,” Jack tapped the console. “No flight instruments.” He gripped the joystick. He flicked the flyer into flight mode. “Brace yourself!”

  He pressed the accelerator, and the levitators hummed. The dials stubbornly refused to move. He trusted his ears, and pulled back on the joystick. The hum rose and the flyer vibrated. The nose lifted, and the flyer took off and hovered over his shelf.

  He waited for the other shoe to drop, and he enjoyed a second of peace. The dead instruments were of little use. He shut off his autopilot, and killed the warning systems.

  “Now, where are we, Shotgun?”

  “Back in business, boss.” He held up a hand and Shotgun slapped it.

  “Right you are, Shotgun. What were we doing when Noddie so rudely interrupted us?”

  “Searching for the Black Dwarf!”

  “Do dwarves understand rhetorical devices, or are they always black and white?”

  “We’re very literal.”

  “Thought so,” said Jack. “Let’s find out where this hole goes. If we find the Black Dwarf, we can end his reign of terror. If not, at least I’ve satisfied my curiosity.”

  He goosed the engine and pushed the flyer into the dark pit.

  “No headlights, I’ll have to make my own.” He cast blue balls into the headlamps.

  “If we find the Black Dwarf, he’ll kill us.”

  “Optimist!”

  “It’s my blood type.”

  “Nonsense, dwarves are type A.”

  “Boss, you’re such an elf.”

  “Guess I asked for that one.” He pushed the joystick, and eased forward. In the hole, he tilted the battered flyer for a better view. The well plunged into the dark. His makeshift headlights vanished into the bottomless well.

  Gently, he let the flyer descend. He flew by sight, and he listened to the flyer’s hum.

  Occasionally, they passed side tunnels. A cool breeze rushed through the vacant windshield. Despite the breeze and the cool temperature, sweat beaded his forehead.

  “There’s the bottom,” said Shotgun.

  Haze swirled in his magical headlights. “It’s hard to see.”

  “It’s the dust you blew into this pit, remember?”

  “Yeah,” Jack smiled. “Thanks for the reminder.”

  He hovered and slowly spun the flyer. They discovered a tunnel. Turning, they found another, and then more. They searched the openings.

  A faint white ball appeared in a tunnel, and it quickly vanished.

  “Stop, boss,” Shotgun hissed. “I see something.”

  “I’ll turn off our lights.” He cut the magic and they were plunged into the dark. False colors flashed in his eyes. He blinked, and he looked away. He let his eyes adjust to the dark, and then he looked back. He searched the tunnel.

  The white ball appeared again, and then vanished.

  “Did you see that?” Shotgun asked.

  “Yeah, I saw it!”

  “Is it a light, boss?”

  “Don’t know, Shotgun, but I saw it too.”

  The ball appeared a third time and vanished just as quickly as before.

  “Whoa,” Shotgun jumped. “Is it a ghost?”

  “Maybe,” Jack shrugged. “Maybe it’s a prospector carrying a torch.”

  “If it’s not a ghost,” said Shotgun. “I hope it’s not a dragon. I have no wish to meet any of Noddie’s relatives.”

  “This must be the way to go,” Jack said. He restored his magical headlamps, and drove into the tunnel. They descended at a low angle for a hundred yards or more.

  A reflection caught his eye.

  “What’s that, boss?”

  “I’m not sure, but it’s not a ghost.”

  Something metallic glinted in the tunnel ahead.

  “Let’s light it up.” Jack cast a blue ray.

  The ray bounced off the metallic object.

  “Whatever it is,” Shotgun sighed. “It’s not a dragon.”

  “Yeah, but what is it?” He pushed the flyer forward.

  “It looks like the shell of an insect.”

  “No insect can be that big. They can’t breathe.” Jack closed the distance, and a mechanical monster loomed in the haze.

  “It’s a mining ship.”

  “From the rust, I’d say it’s been here awhile.” Jack landed the flyer. The derelict blocked the tunnel. “Let’s check it out and see if we can get around it.”

  Jack unbuckled his harness, and climbed out of the flyer. He looked into the bucket. It was empty.

  Shotgun joined him, “It’s bigger than a garbage scow.”

  “Much bigger, and there’s no markings. She’s probably a claim jumper.”

  “Independent or one of Guggenheim’s ships?” asked Shotgun.

  “Indie,” said Jack. “Guggenheim would never leave her here. She’s a million quid if she’s a farthing.”

  “If she’s an indie, where’s her rock hound? He must have forgotten where he parked.”
>
  “Maybe he had an accident.”

  “Yeah, but what we need to know is if we can get around her. My side is as tight as penguin’s tuxedo.”

  “Try my side, Shotgun. This way,” he walked around the ship, and stopped at the levitators. The coils towered over him. “Wow, those are big.”

  Shotgun passed him and went ahead. “The passage widens out.” He called back. “Can you give me some more light?”

  Jack cast a light ray.

  “I can see the front,” said Shotgun. “Let’s go.” The dwarf led the way. They walked the length of the mysterious ship and examined the passage.

  “No outcrops block the way,” said Jack. “I can fly sideways and get through.”

  “If we can get her generators started, maybe we can move this rust bucket.”

  “Why would a prospector abandon an operating ship?” asked Jack.

  “The Marie Celeste operated until the Black Dwarf blew her up.”

  “She wasn’t abandoned,” he said. “I don’t know how she wound up sitting in the old Thornmocker space dock, but someone parked her there. This rust bucket’s not parked. It’s been here for years.”

  “Think it’s haunted?”

  “Why not?” asked Jack. “Ghosts can’t hurt us, Shotgun. If she’s the Flying Dutchman of claim jumpers, we’ve got another episode of Mysterious Nodlon.”

  “Admit it, boss. You’re obsessed with late-night vid.”

  “What’s wrong with a good ghost story? Here’s the cab. I’ll check it out. Maybe I can find out who this ship belongs to.”

  He climbed up to the driver’s hatch. Rust covered his hands. He pulled, but the hatch did not budge. “It’s rusty. I’ll magic it off.”

  “No, it’s not worth the effort.” Shotgun stepped back.

  “It’s no effort.”

  “Great!” Shotgun backed up some more, “Like it worked so well the last time.”

  “Silence in the peanut gallery. The Flying Dutchman isn’t going to fall into a bottomless pit.”

  “Nothing would surprise me now, boss.”

  “Here goes nothing.”

  Jack cast a magical push on the hatch. The handle cracked and the hatch flew open. He lost his balance, and he grabbed a rung on the ladder. The rung broke.

  Startled, he flailed at the air. He levitated and grabbed the hatch handle. Swinging on the ladder, he reached out to steady himself. His sleeve caught on a piece of cloth on the driver’s seat.

  Dislodged, the cloth flew off the seat. He looked at what he had caught. It’s the driver’s coveralls! He tried to push the coveralls back into the cab. Loosed from the driver’s seat, the coveralls rolled out of the cab.

  Bones rolled down him and caught between his foot and the ladder. He tried to catch the coveralls, but bones spilled out of the sleeves and legs. The driver’s hip slipped out, and shattered on the tunnel floor. The coveralls rolled over onto his chest, and the driver’s skull landed on his chest. He stared. The skull stared back. It’s the driver!

  “Whoa!” he shouted. He jerked, and the rusty ladder broke loose from the cab.

  The ladder swung away, and swayed side to side. The driver’s legs flipped out of his coveralls. Bones bounced off the ship’s fenders. Bones thudded as they hit the dirt. Rocking dislodged the driver’s skull, and it rolled off. Frantic, he levitated the skull.

  “Oh, boy!” yelped the dwarf. He dodged the shower of bones. The skull floated over Shotgun’s head, and the dwarf jumped back a few feet.

  “Sorry,” Jack apologized. “I didn’t want all of him to shatter.”

  “Oh, boy!” Shotgun put his hands on his knees and bent over. His chest heaved. “When I asked if it was haunted, I was joking.”

  “So was I.”

  Gently, Jack lowered the skull to the floor. Taking the sleeves and legs, he hoisted the coveralls, and freed his foot from the gruesome catch. He formed a sack containing the remains of the driver’s broken body. He levitated the sack, lowered it to the floor, and put the bones next to their owner’s skull.

  He levitated up to the cab, took hold of the hatch, and looked in.

  The driver’s boots had toppled under the joystick. He levitated the boots, and added them to the pile of the driver’s remains.

  On the passenger’s side, a pile of soda bottles and disposable coffee cups rose to the glove compartment and spilled onto the seat. The driver’s log hung from a loop on the ship’s console. He took the log and slipped it into his pocket.

  He risked using a bit more magic and levitated to the floor.

  Shotgun was pale. “Are we having fun yet?”

  “Great fun,” said Jack. “We all need more excitement in our lives.”

  He pulled the log out of his pocket and handed it to Shotgun. “Do you think you can make this work? The log might tell us what happened.”

  The dwarf fiddled with the log. “Power’s dead.” He stuffed the log in his satchel. “Drive’s probably unreadable anyway. We need an expert who can dismantle it and scan the drive.”

  “We can let Nodlon Yard handle it then.”

  Shotgun glanced at the bones. “What will we do with the driver?”

  “Consign him to the rear bucket. He doesn’t need to be embalmed. For now, we’ll put a few stones over his bones, and ask Mother Earth to protect him.” Jack looked back at the mining ship. “We’ll let Wiggles know where he is. They’ll send a recovery team. I’m sure Moab will give him a decent burial. That’s about all we can do”

  “What happened?” Shotgun asked. “He couldn’t have been lost.”

  “He wasn’t lost,” Jack shook his head. “He was probably a claim jumper prospecting without a permit. His transponder was off so no one could pick him up or follow him. Something went wrong.”

  “Something went wrong?”

  “A heart attack, perhaps,” Jack tapped his chest. “Ticker went out. We’re over two miles down. Without relays to retransmit a signal, no one would know.”

  “Maybe,” Shotgun frowned. “Noddie scared him and he popped his gaskets.”

  “It’s possible.”

  Carefully, they piled the bones into the prospector’s coveralls and tied the ends. Jack levitated his bones and boots, and piled them into the ship’s bucket.

  Jack doffed his cap, “Can you think of anything to say?”

  “No, I don’t believe in mumbo jumbo. I’d like to. Ever since Faith was born, I’ve believed there’s more to life than struggling and dying. But I can’t get into any of Nodlon’s cults. If they don’t ask you to leave your brain at the door, they want you to leave your heart behind.”

  “What, Shotgun?” Jack scoffed. “I didn’t know. I figured you believed in a higher power and life after death. After all, you named your daughters Faith and Hope.”

  “Oh, I do believe in a higher power,” Shotgun straightened his tux. He leaned back on his heels. “Goldie and the girls convinced me of that. Faith is believing life is good even when it’s obviously not.” Shotgun shrugged and bounced on his toes. He rocked on his heels. “I just don’t buy into Nodlon’s cults. That’s all.” He dropped his eyes to his boots.

  “Very sensible, Shotgun,” said Jack. “Reject charlatans both silly and dangerous, but keep hope alive. I wish I could share your notions, but my heart isn’t in it.”

  “Boss,” his butler choked up. “Jack, you of all people should believe in something. You’re magical. I don’t know how that happened, but it’s no accident. I know you don’t believe in anything. I know it’s gotten worse since Phaedra passed away. Jazz and I have talked about it. You put on a great show face, but you’re heart’s darker than ever. You’ve seen Phaedra. You know she’s alive, and still you don’t see, or you don’t want to see.” The little man fell silent and squeezed his elbow gently.

  He put a hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. “Thanks, Shotgun.” He grimaced and fought back against a tear. “Thanks for trying, but I know the truth. As for magic
, I’m just a freak of nature. Yes, I’ve seen Phaedra walk in the night because I’m just an incurable neurotic. When I wake up from a nightmare, I hallucinate and I see my mother.”

  “You’re too hard, Jack. You know so much that just isn’t true, and you think you know things no one can know. Let go of the trash, and the cream will rise to the top. It won’t be any easier to believe nonsense, but it will be easier to disbelief what isn’t true.”

  “After Phaedra died, I was in danger of believing in something. I wanted to believe in a higher power, but I thought, ‘If this is what he’s like,’ I’d be better off if I stopped believing.’”

  “Unbelief is just one more cult, Jack. I stopped believing in it the moment I held my daughter. I’m not telling you what’s happening because I don’t know, but I’m sure the universe is good. And I’m sure you’ll see Phaedra again.”

  “I try to respect the beliefs of others, Shotgun, but my visions of Phaedra are hallucinations. Maybe I’m distraught, or maybe it’s just the gravy.” He turned away from the mining ship. He patted the rust on his breeches and then tried to brush it off. He only succeeded in spreading the stains. “We’ll send someone back for the poor devil. When life returns to normal, the Surete will send a recovery team.” He started to walk back to the flyer. “Shall we try flying around the ship?”

  Shotgun stopped in front of him. “Look,” he hissed, pointing up the tunnel. “Did you see it?”

  “What?” He peered into the darkness. A ball of light floated across the tunnel. “I see it.” He cast a ray, and lit the tunnel. The tunnel twisted and curved upward.

  “Nothing, Shotgun, it’s just our imagination.”

  “We both saw it! It’s the same light we saw when we chose this tunnel.”

  “Now you’re scaring me. Only one of us can be an incurable neurotic, and I’ve got that position covered. Your position is level-headed sidekick. Now get in, and we’ll finish exploring this tunnel.”

  “Thought I was the comic relief, boss.”