by Edward Nile
"Give me that if you're not going to use it!" Mayla wrenched Aldren's rifle from his hands.
The woman let out a primal snarl as she picked her targets and fired in shorter bursts, aiming for whatever head or limb was unfortunate enough to poke out from above the hoods of military vehicles.
"Quit watching me and pay attention to your side!" Mayla snapped. "Tell me if—"
"Clear the middle!" shouted Kaizer.
Aldren was turning to look ahead when a section of Ugly broke free between them, a blade-like wedge of metal swinging upward on a mechanical arm.
Ahead, a pair of Xangese Warsuits had positioned themselves to either side of the street, an iron net stretched between them.
Ugly's ax clanged as it tore through the net in one swing, leaving Kaizer's machine to rumble on past the enemy Kriegers unhindered.
Surprised he had the time to build them anything, Aldren thought.
Open sea broke into view as they came closer and closer to the edge of the Taisen. Aldren still couldn't quite process the immensity of the great leviathan Clint Kaizer had designed. That something so large could have been built by Xang and financed by Lytan without anyone in Arkenia knowing beggared belief.
A truck rolled in front of them. Once more Ugly bucked with the force of its shrapnel guns, shattering windows and reducing the front of the truck to torn slag.
"Boy, look under that tire and get one of the bags," Kaizer shouted.
Moving about while the machine was in motion didn't exactly appeal to Aldren, but it was preferable to getting shot. He lifted his rear off the tire and dug around inside until he took hold of a burlap bag.
It was heavy and clanked when he lifted it.
“Now, pour the ammo into—"
Something flashed from an alley to Aldren’s left, giving off a resounding boom!
The rocket hit Ugly’s side, and the world spun.
Aldren saw Mayla fly from her perch to the ground below, witnessed it in the sluggish fugue of a dream, as if everything were happening in air thickened to the consistency of molasses. Ugly was spinning with the force of the blow, shedding parts, the wreckage of its right tread spreading in a burst of destroyed metal.
Mayla, what had happened to Mayla? Aldren strained against the out of control machine’s momentum, looking down. He saw her, and saw that in the next instant, the spinning metal monster would crush her.
Aldren jumped.
As he fell to the pavement, Aldren’s world sped back to normal. His knees screamed in protest as he landed and pitched forward. Ugly squealed its way toward him in its wild spin.
Aldren grabbed Mayla and with her in tow, leapt clear of the machine.
Kaizer’s beast smashed into the side of a nearby apartment block, creating a great plume of brick dust and shattered glass.
Now a pile of scrap in earnest, the strange vehicle that had taken the three of them this far through hostile territory sat, no more than a smoking ruin.
Mayla coughed. “Shit,” she rasped. “That hurt.”
Aldren’s hands were bleeding, scoured when he rolled on his landing. He checked over Mayla. The nail had been wrenched from her leg and there were scrapes along her arms and side, as well as her cheek.
The fall had not only torn the nail free, but ripped up her leg more along with it, starting the bleeding anew.
“How bad, doc?” Mayla asked, eyes fluttering.
“Nothing looks broken,” Aldren replied.
“Bet you wish we’d turned back when we had the chance.”
Aldren chuckled. “If wishes were raindrops, right?”
“Heh, never heard that one.”
“Something my ma used to say.”
Mayla focused, looking past Aldren’s shoulder. “End of the line.”
Three automobiles rolled to a halt, positioning themselves sideways so as to block the street. Two were Xangese military trucks. The third, bringing up the center, was a shining black motorcar. A vehicle with banners displaying the two-headed falcon of the Lytan Empire, black against a blue field.
The Lytan car pulled over, its side turned to face Aldren and Mayla. The back door opened.
“Get behind me.” Clint Kaizer shoved his way past Aldren, at the same time pushing the leather tube into his hands. “Whatever happens next, you get that to my boy Matthew, no matter what. Arkenia’s fucked without it.”
Aldren opened his mouth, but had nothing to say.
A pair of knee-length leather boots, polished to a high mirror shine, swung out of the automobile’s back seat. The man they belonged to followed. He was the picture of Imperial regality. Six feet tall, his blonde hair slicked back, his chiseled jaw clean shaven. A navy-blue greatcoat chased with silver flapped about his legs, the breast riddles with medals. He held a polished silver cane under one arm. The Lytan man was in his middle to late thirties by the look of him and walked with the self-assured gait of a high-ranking officer confident in his capacity to be obeyed.
“Lord Harkan Raith,” Kaizer hissed over his shoulder. Out loud, he called to the officer. “Surprised you’d be bothered to come out here yourself, for a little old man like me.”
Raith smiled. “My dear Clint, you’re much more than just an ‘old man’ to us. I am only relieved these brutes didn’t harm you without realizing your worth.” He waved a black-gloved hand to encompass the Xangese troops who’d fanned out to either side. “Now, why don’t you say goodbye to your friends and come back to work. We’ll forgive this little fiasco.”
“Can’t… let them…have…him,” Mayla breathed.
“Doesn’t look like we have much choice,” Aldren murmured, keeping his arm under Mayla to support her head. “Gotta say, this time we really are screwed.”
“Doesn’t… matter.” She grabbed Aldren’s hand and placed it at her waist.
“If this is your way of saying you’re pregnant, May, congratulations, but…” Aldren trailed off, feeling it. The pistol tucked in Mayla’s pants, concealed by her shirt.
“Our lives don’t matter,” she rasped. “If they keep him here, alive, Arkenia, Quar…”
“Come now, Clint,” Raith said, responding to something Aldren missed. The old man hadn’t moved. “Did you think we didn’t know about your extra bit of tinkering in that workshop? I let you have your toys if it made you feel better. But playtime is over. You have done fine work for us so far.”
“I’ve done evil work because you kidnapped me and forced my hand,” Kaizer replied. “But that’s over now. You’re just going to have to kill me.”
“I’m sure you’d like that,” Raith said, eyes narrowing. “But if you refuse to cooperate, it won’t be you who pays that price. Come quietly, Clint, and your friends can be our guests alongside you instead of the… less pleasant alternative.”
“That’s a load of horseshit and we both know it,” Kaizer snapped.
“Do it, Aldren,” Mayla urged. “Put two in his back, while you still can.”
“May, I know the man shot you first and all, but—”
She tried to pull the weapon free herself, but Aldren was quick to clench her hand in his.
“We’re not killing one of our own.”
“Then you’re dooming your country and mine.”
“I believe we have been patient enough.” Harkan Raith snapped his fingers. “Take him. Kill the others.”
“Too patient, if you ask me,” said Clint Kaizer.
“What?”
The broken-down beast behind them let loose a blinding haze of smoke. It engulfed Aldren, Mayla, and the soldiers closing in around them. People coughed and shouted in the smog.
“Go, now!” Kaizer’s voice commanded.
“Don’t need to tell me twice.” Aldren drew Mayla’s pistol and helped her to her feet.
A shadowed figure materialized into Clint Kaizer behind them. A breeze took away some of the covering smoke. Enough for Aldren to see Harkan Raith raise a pistol.
Training and instinct had been elus
ive nearly every time Aldren needed them. He was more likely to freeze up in a combat scenario than act.
But now, with an injured woman clinging to him, an old man standing defiantly against the threat, and nowhere to turn for help, something inside Aldren Mal broke.
He pointed the pistol at the Lytan fuck and squeezed the trigger.
Crack!
The bullet took Raith in the neck, creating a crimson blossom. Raith clutched the wound and collapsed to his knees, shock written on his face.
Other men converged on Aldren and his two companions.
“Get out of here!” cried Kaizer.
Aldren shook his head. “We—”
“It’s your only chance.” Clint scooped up one of their dropped rifles and used it to club a man aside. “Go! Get that case to Matt!” As he shouted, the old man was being surrounded, grabbed on all sides.
“Can’t let them have—”
“Already had that debate,” interrupted Aldren, squeezing Mayla tight. “This is gonna hurt.” He lifted her into his arms and started running.
This is what I get for smoking, Aldren thought, wheezing and coughing his way through the stinking haze. Mayla was a slender woman, but it was taking all Aldren’s effort to carry her while running.
Guns cracked behind them, but Aldren didn’t look back.
Since Ugly’s timed mechanical malfunction, civilians had poured from their apartments and workplaces and were running down the street in a scared craze. Aldren took the opportunity, putting Mayla back to her feet and leading her hobbling next to him. As they blended into the thickening crowd, he looked over his shoulder. Troops, both Xangese and Lytan, emerged from the smoke cloud.
Catching a falling cap from a frightened civilian, Aldren jammed the ill-fitting thing on his head and averted his gaze. A boat, he thought. Need to find a boat.
"Shouldn't have let them take Kaizer alive," Mayla groaned, holding her bleeding leg while she limped.
"If they didn't have him, we'd have even less of a chance to get away. Besides." Aldren shook the tube Kaizer had given him. "We have a delivery to make." He wasn't feeling much better than Mayla looked. Aldren was scared, bruised, tired. His head pounded and his ears rang. His lungs burned from harsh engine smoke.
The harbor, he could see it down a side avenue, rows of military boats giving way to vast blue water beyond. Aldren could smell the saltwater scent wafting on the warm wind.
A woman screamed behind them when a group of soldiers knocked her down. Aldren brought Mayla behind a stack of chicken pens and watched the men shove and shout their way through the crowd in their search.
"Better… hurry." Mayla's eyes flickered. She was fading, the pain and blood loss overwhelming her.
A pair of soldiers with untucked shirts had abandoned their card game and were looking out from the docks to the fading smoke plume.
Mayla, still in uniform, shouted something at them in their language, and both men grabbed their jackets and rushed off.
"I don't know anything about boats," Aldren said, half to himself.
"Just fucking pick one," Mayla grunted, sweat-drenched face contorted as she hobbled weakly, letting him all but drag her forward.
A droning alarm wailed from the town.
Aldren glanced up at the unfathomable height of the mechanical abomination floating on the water to his right.
Turbines and steadily turning gears frothed the lapping waves into a white foam as men looked over the monstrosity's railings toward the commotion. None of them were paying attention to the dock directly below.
Aldren selected a skiff with only a driver's cabin and small deck. Helping Mayla onto the rocking vessel, he took a look at the boat's rear gun turret to see if it was loaded. Harkan Raith's shocked face was etched into his mind, the blood sprouting from his neck again and again as Aldren's bullet pierced him. No, Aldren didn't relish the thought of doing that, ever again.
But you might have to. He slammed the top down on the gun and primed the chamber. So quit bitching about it.
The boat's engine puttered to life.
"Cut the line!" Mayla yelled from the cabin.
Xangese and Lytan vehicles were converging on the docks.
Right. Mayla was already bringing the skiff into motion when Aldren sliced the mooring rope with his dagger.
They sped off, leaving frothing seawater in their wake. Aldren took position at the turret as soldiers rushed toward the other moored vessels.
"To hell with that.” Aldren swung the turret on its oiled swivel and squeezed the triggers, rolling automatic fire across the boats.
He'd used heavy guns like this in practice ranges during the Civil War. That was almost long ago enough for Aldren to forget the violent recoil. He held on as the force rattled up his arms. The sound was blissfully muffled behind the continuous ring already in his ears. Not a good sign.
One thing he could say about shooting one of these things was that it had an effect.
Men dove into the water as one, then two unmanned vessels erupted into plumes of whooshing flame.
Savior's sweaty taint. Aldren whistled low. That's something.
Miles seemed to go by before their stolen skiff finally passed the prow of the Xangese monstrosity. How something like that stayed above water was a complete mystery to Aldren. It made the tanker he’d traveled to Xang aboard look like a rowboat.
If the enemy’s hideous new weapon did any good, it was that it seemed to make communication and coordination more difficult to the soldiers the two of them were trying to escape. A few miles out, as Aldren’s traveling companion took their boat around a peninsular outcropping of land in a direction he thought was south, Aldren finally spotted the dotted forms of pursuing boats.
“Keep the pace, May,” he called over his shoulder, hunkering down behind the gun to await the next disaster.
A splash of cold water hit his face, and Aldren bolted upright to find himself beneath a dark, clouded sky. The skiff bobbed and dipped atop slow, massive waves.
Shit. Aldren rubbed his eyes. On the run from an army, and I choose now to catch up on sleep. It had been his first rest since Genlu’s betrayal, going on three days ago, and Aldren didn’t feel any more revived for it. “May?” he croaked, his mouth foul-tasting and dry. “Where are we?” And did they have any fresh water? It was only now that Aldren realized he’d lost his bag in the mad dash to escape the fishing town, keeping only the tube of papers Clint Kaizer had foisted upon him and Sam Mutton’s camera in its leather case.
“May?” Aldren lifted himself up on stiff legs. That turned out to be a mistake.
Right, seasickness, he thought after he’d retched his meager stomach contents off the side. Fun. How he could have lived in Talenport so long without actually getting on a boat was another enigma. It might have saved him a world of misery to have gotten his sea legs young.
Still, Aldren told himself. Not so bad, the second time around. His newly emptied stomach didn’t slosh about as much as he remembered, and he was hardly dizzy at all.
What he was, however, was cold. The night had brought a child to the air, so far out to sea.
I fucking hate traveling. How far had they gone? Aldren looked out at the inky darkness stretching out in every direction, searching for something, anything to break the rippling night. There were no stars to denote the horizon, no discernable place where he could spot the water touching a distant sky. No stars, no moon, no land. Just endless nothing as far as he could see.
Aldren was used to cramped city streets, accustomed to life in apartments pressed in close to the tiny worlds of his nearest neighbors, to the ubiquitous sounds of active civilization. Even in his travels across bland countryside, he’d always had the comfort of a vehicle’s walls, of a pane of glass between himself and a nothingness relieved by roads, each man-made line a reminder that other human beings had been here before, and would be again.
Finding himself surrounded by an endless expanse of rolling emptiness, hiding eve
n vaster depths where nothing human could or would dwell, Aldren felt completely alone for the first time in his life.
“Mayla?” He shambled his way toward the cabin, catching himself as his boots slipped on water-slicked metal. Aldren’s mind went back to his first day in Xang, when he came off the ship and saw a fish larger and stranger than any he’d ever witnessed. What else could be waiting in these foreign waters?
“May?!” He caught the edge of the cabin doorway and pulled himself in. “Hey, did you go deaf…” He faltered. Mayla wasn’t at the steering wheel.