Chapter 13

Levi pushed as hard as he could.  His leg burned bright with pain, but the debris lying upon his chest finally gave way and fell to the side.  With the weight from his chest gone, he took a moment to catch his breath before finally struggling to his feet.  One step, however, reminded him of the gash in his leg and he stumbled down to his knees once more.  He wasn’t going to be moving for the next few seconds, so he decided to survey the area.

The ground was littered with debris, shattered pieces of wood and metal strewn about.  A few small fires burned in the grass, but the Iron Dove had been mainly dependent upon its engines for flight, with only small, enclosed hydrogen-filled balloons to its credit.  These, he recalled, had gone up somewhere about twenty feet of so from the ground.  The flames had completely enveloped everything, filling his vision with nothing but.  It was a hellish scene; one he hoped he could soon put from his mind.

The ship itself was, of course, in a multitude of pieces.  The initial explosions had damaged the hull integrity to the point of no return and the fall and subsequent collision with the earth hadn’t helped anything.  A few chunks could still be identified as the vessel and Levi was actually resting upon what appeared to be a small section of the deck.  The pirates had known how and where to place the bombs, though, that much was obvious.  The efficiency was simply too great to be coincidence.  They had survived, though, so that was something.

Well, Levi had survived.  Looking about, he realized he couldn’t see anyone alive.  He did see, however, one of the crew members draped across a section of railing, a shard of metal protruding from his gut.  It exited at an odd angle and Levi couldn’t place where the metal had come from.  He didn’t want to really dwell on that, though.  Nearby, he located an intact beam of wood and grabbed it.  Standing once more, he leaned hard on the wood, using it as a crutch.  One way or another, he couldn’t stay where he was; the end of the deck was down in a fire.  It was only a matter of time before it spread.

His body ached and his eyes and lungs burned as he moved away from his particular pile of debris, the soft ground below his feet feeling strangely foreign.  Coughing, he once more tried to scan the wreckage for survivors.  Just as he was about to give up hope, some motion out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.  Limping as best he could, Levi finally found Simon sitting on the ground, his back leaning against the doorway that had, until recently, led into the bridge.  It led nowhere, now; it was simply embedded a foot or so into the ground, slightly ajar.  Simon was simply staring at the burning wreckage of his prized airship, a pistol – Levi wasn’t sure where that had come from – resting in his lap.

“Simon,” Levi tried, instead doubling over in a fit of coughing.  Then, clearing his throat, he tried again.  “Simon, are you alright?”

The man continued to just stare straight ahead.  His index finger played lightly across the grip of the gun.

“Simon.  Wake up, man.”  Simon just shook his head.

“They were good men, Levi.  And she was a good ship.”

“We don’t have time for this.  Get up, we need to find Abigail and I can’t do it by myself.”  Simon didn’t move.  “Mourn later, now get up!”

To add emphasis to his words, he threw a small bit of wood at Simon.  The projectile smacked into the side of Simon’s head, the pain seemingly bringing him back to the world of the living.  The man’s head snapped around and he quickly threw the wood back.

“Bloody hell, brother, what’s your problem?”  Simon struggled to his feet and dusted himself off to no real effect.  “Alright.  Find your girlfriend and then we need to get ourselves a plan.  Doubtful anybody’s just going to drop by and help us.  Maybe we’ll try to walk back; that’ll be fun.  But first things first.”

They spent the next twenty minutes moving through the junk that was the Iron Dove, Simon doing the majority of the work as he appeared to be relatively uninjured.  Simon knocked things about with his wooden crutch to no real end and mentally kicked himself for all of his recent failures.  He had been charged with protecting Quincy and the pirates had taken him like it was nothing.  In a sense, he was also meant to watch over Hank.  It was hard to say, at that point, what had even happened to the poor boy.  Levi knew he didn’t have the mentality required to survive very long in pirate captivity.  Last but not least, he was supposed to protect Abigail.  And here they were, standing in the middle of nowhere, bits and pieces of a wrecked airship lying scattered about, with no sign of her.  He was doing a fantastic job.

Finally, he heard Simon’s voice cry out some ways away, saying that he found her.  Limping with surprising speed, Levi weaved his way over to where his voice had come from.  His heart could have exploded right then as he saw Abigail return to consciousness.  She was covered in dirt and ash, and she was scraped up a bit, but otherwise she appeared to be in relatively good condition.  Smiling, Levi dropped to his knees before her and took one of her hands.

“Hello, Abigail.”  It was all he could think to say.

“Hello, Levi.  Simon.”  She smiled at them, weakly, before releasing Levi’s hand and standing wobbly.  She looked about, blankly, before shaking her head.  “How did we survive any of this?”

“Most airships don’t just plummet out of the sky,” Simon said, rubbing the back of his head.  “The airbags along generally keep you in the air for quite some time.  The explosions tore rather large holes in the balloons, I’d wager, which is why we fell so fast.  Then, of course, the balloons themselves when up in flames so we fell a bit.  Busted up the ship, but we’re not too bad off.”

“What about the rest of the crew?”

Levi and Simon both simply shook their heads.

“Oh.  I see.  Well then, I suppose we should gather up supplies, yes?”

Without waiting for a supply, Abigail turned and started digging through the rubble, looking for anything useful.  With a shrug, Simon started doing the same.  Sighing, Levi proceeded to walk as best he could around, hoping that something would be laying there requiring no digging to access.  Throughout his searching, he managed to find a Lee-Enfield rifle, an ammo bag – containing the wrong type of ammunition for the rifle – and two sacks of bread.  All in all, it wasn’t much and Levi felt a little disappointed.  When he finally got back with the others, though, his hopes were a little higher.

Between them, Simon and Abigail had managed to find two backpacks, a few blankets, food of various sorts, a couple of guns, a spotting scope, some dented water tins, and even a chest containing spare clothing.  Levi supposed that they’d at least be able to make it a few days before supplies became a problem.  With a humorless laugh, Abigail walked over and placed something upon Levi’s head.

“Your hat, sir.”  Levi couldn’t help but smile.  He liked that hat.  “That’s about all, though.  I’m sure there’s more if we want to keep digging about, but that doesn’t strike me as a terribly good idea.”

“No, you’re right.  We don’t want to be stranded out here for too long.  We need some sort of game plan,” Levi said.  “Their Mercury was angling toward that bush over there before we went down.  If I had to guess, I’d say that’s where they’re holed up.  If we made our way to the river and somehow…”

“Wait a second there, brother.  What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about that Periwinkle Gang.  Now if we can build a raft…”

“You want to go after them?  Is that what I’m hearing?”

“Well, of course.”

“Are you completely daft, man?  They just stormed a ship full of trained fighters, took those they pleased, and then destroyed my poor baby without any real trouble.  And you want to go charging in to save the day?  That’s completely ridiculous.”

“Quincy and Hank are my responsibility, Simon.”

“And my men are mine.  But I’m not delusional enough to think that I can assault a pirate stronghold with a few rifles and good intentions.  I say we figure out a way to get home and then we can tell the Guard where these flower boys are settled.  I’d guess they threw everything they had at us today so the Guard would be able to handle them fairly easily, I’d wager.”

“Unless, of course, the Guard is still busy with all of that Devilfish nonsense,” Levi pointed out.  “They’re going to be stretched thin as it is and that’s assuming nothing else had happened in the past few days.  It could be ten times more dangerous down south than it is right here.”

“Well that would be a shame, because this isn’t a terribly safe place the moment.  But we’re not running into a pirate camp.”

“Three people would have a very good chance of slipping in, releasing everyone, and getting out again.  Less likely anyone would have to get hurt.  Now imagine if the Guard was bearing down on them, what do you think they’d do?  They’d use their prisoners as shields.  It’s not a good picture.”

“And neither is us swaying from the bow of an Abascal bush by our necks, which is what will happen if they catch us.  You do understand that, right?”

“Does anyone even care that I’m standing here,” Abigail asked, almost offhandedly.  Simon and Levi looked at her in confusion.  “I’ve simply been standing over here while the two of you decide where I’m going to go next.  We’ll I’ve had it, gentlemen.  Levi, storming a pirate camp is probably suicide.  But Simon, there’s little chance we’re going to actually manage to walk back to Walton Harbor from here.  It’s what, two hundred miles somewhere to the south and west?  Are we even sure where we are at this point?  I believe they took your navigator.”

“They killed Old Will, actually.”

“I’m sorry.  But still, we’re going to have to do something and I think that heading toward that bush over there is the best thing at the time.”

“But… and what if I say no?”

“Then we’ll leave you here,” Abigail said rather matter-of-factly.  “But it would be best if you came along.  With Levi’s leg, we won’t be able to carry all of this stuff without you.”

Simon simply stood there for a moment, and then spared a glance at Levi, who was grinning.  Shaking his head, he shrugged and walked over to the pile of loot.

“Looks like I don’t have much of a choice.  To the pirate den and certain death it is!”

“That’s the spirit,” Levi said with another chuckle.

They remained near the wreckage for the remainder of the day – a few hours all told – and slept in a small portion of the airship that was still intact.  Levi slept fitfully, his leg constantly waking him as it remembered that it hurt.  It was annoying, at best, but he managed as best he could.  The following morning, they all woke early.  Simon and Abigail both looked tired and he knew that he looked no better.  It appeared as though they obviously hadn’t slept well, either.  Regardless, they packed all of their things into the backpacks and a bag they found and had set out roughly north and east.

The plan, at that point, was relatively simple.  About five days north was a river.  More specifically, it was the Upper Snake River; the northern branch of the Snake River which explorers said split hundreds of miles upriver and joined together again hundreds of miles downriver.  It was a ridiculously wide thing, on par with everything else found in the Reach in terms of size.  Surprisingly, though, it was a relatively calm river with gentle currents that could casually be rode like most of the Rivers found back on Key.  Actually, the southern branch, or the Lower Snake River, was just a short ride south of Meadowshire and many of the wealthier inhabitants had boats there.  Unfortunately, the Upper Snake was considered too far north to be worth the trouble of visiting, so it was unlikely they would be bumping into anyone.

This river did, however, run within a few miles of the bush that they intended to visit.  As such, they planned to ride the river to shorten their trip by a good bit.  Huge, sturdy cattails the sizes of trees were generally known to grow in places along the river’s banks and would be providing the basis for their raft.  They would then sail down the river, get off near the bush, walk the rest of the way, sneak in, free the prisoners, maybe steal an airship, and make their escape.  It was all very simple, indeed.  Simon, however, wasn’t exactly fooled.

“This is ridiculous,” he often said as they slowly made their way through the grass north.  They moved slowly because of Levi’s leg; something that he hated but there was little to be done for it.  “‘We’ll just go to the river and build a raft.  It’ll be fun!’  What a fantastically brilliant attack plan.”

Levi and Abigail paid him little mind, though, as they pushed on.  They talked little, despite Simon’s occasional outburst, as they all struggled in their own way to put to order the recent events.  Levi was, perhaps, the most outwardly morose.  Breaking into a pirate camp with a wounded leg, a woman, and a questionably sane former soldier: that was more than just ridiculous.  But he couldn’t just sit around and do nothing.  He had a mission to complete and, so help him, he was going to do it or die trying.  He owed that to Quincy and Hank, in the least.

Abigail, though, was a mystery to him.  The more they moved north, the more she seemed to take charge.  She asked fundamental questions concerning bearing, pace timing, and where the best place to camp would be found.  She also issued most of the orders, insisting that they take a break every hour lest something even worse happen to Levi’s leg.  As far as outer appearances were concerned, she seemed calm, composed, and resolute.  She couldn’t be enjoying her situation, though, Levi was sure.  She was supposed to be in North Mine by now treating cuts and diagnosing the flu.  Instead here she was tramping through the grass toward a bunch of pirates.  No, Levi just didn’t understand her.

Simon, though, he could understand.  The man was angry; Levi had seen the signs often enough to know.  He swatted at anything over knee height with his saber, refusing to go around anything.  He was angrier at the pirates than Levi and Abigail, though, Levi knew.  Simon wasn’t the kind of man to be outdone in anything and he never liked to lose.  Levi recalled Simon getting into a fistfight with a superior officer and two other airmen after a late-night poker game lost him more money than he had liked.  He accused the captain of cheating and had subsequently gone over the table at him.  Simon didn’t like to lose and this was possibly the biggest defeat he had ever experienced.

The day passed with little incident, other than when Simon accidentally stumbled upon a tolag rabbit nest and child-sized rabbits went running everything.  He had wanted to shoot a few, just out of spite, but Levi had convinced him that they needed the ammunition.  They spent that night lying out upon their blankets under the gloriously clear night sky.  The stars, all strangely foreign yet conforming, shined through the night, providing a fair amount of light despite the missing sun.  That night, Levi ironically dreamed of those stars.  He recalled the first time he had seen them, the first night he had spent out on the fields of Franklin Reach.  Things had been a little simpler, then.  No pirates, no trains, not many airships.  Just a giant, empty world: the grass, the bushes, and the stars.  He slept well, all told.

He was startled awake suddenly, however, by Abigail’s scream.  Jumping up, he completely forgot about his leg and it cost him.  He felt the wound tear open, felt the blood start to warm the area.  Pulling himself up again through the pain, he grabbed the Lee-Enfield rifle that he had kept close and hopped forward. 

Not thirty feet from him were two rock birds.  They were large things, as far as birds were concerned, with a wingspan of about fifteen feet or so.  They were a dirty red in color, marking them as females, and their feathers looked slightly oily or wet.  They had their beaks down in their two supply bags, eating through their sparse food stuffs.  Gasping, Levi hopped a bit more forward, waving his arms and screaming.  As he did, Simon scrambled up beside him, pistol in hand.

“Bloody birds,” Simon said, aiming his pistol.

“No!”

Before he could do more, though, Levi fired, clipping one of the birds in the wing.  With a horrible screech, the bird wheeled into the air, the supply bag clutched in its talons.  The other bird followed suit by grabbing the bag and taking flight.  Cursing, Levi balanced his weight on his good leg and took aim with the rifle at the already wounded bird.  He fired and missed horribly.  He worked the bolt quickly, expertly, and fired again to similar results.  Angry with himself, he wobbled slightly and tossed the rifle to Simon.  With similar expert skill, the former airship captain fired, dropping the bird.  He shot at the other one but by that time, it was too far away.

“Fantastic,” Levi said, looking at Simon.  “At least we’ll get one of our bags back.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you missed.”

“But it’s your fault I had to shoot in the first place.  Don’t you know anything about this world you live in?  When startled while eating, rock birds do what?”  Simon’s face turned indignant and he looked away.  “That’s right, they grab it and run.  If we had simply got their attention, we could’ve probably made them leave without the food.  Or, at worst, we could’ve shot at the same time.  But no.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.  Lay off.  I’ll go get the bag.”

“Might as well bring some of the bird back, as well.  We’re going to need the meat.  I’ll start the fire.”

“Right…”

They spent the next few hours cooking the bird’s leg and taking inventory of what they had left.  The bird had gotten away with the majority of the ammunition they had left, minus that already within the weapons, and about half of the food.  Now they were going to be lucky to make it to the river before running out.  Simon, who was covered in blood and looking more annoyed than ever, busied himself with collecting everything they had sitting about, while Abigail attended to the reopened wound on Levi’s leg.  She said it was looking good, though he had no idea if she was telling the truth or not.  Luckily she had managed to keep hold of her small medical bag, so he figured things would be fine.

The sun was already well past its zenith by the time they actually got on the move again, much to Levi’s chagrin.  They only managed to put a few miles behind them again, as his leg made him move even slower than the day before.  Abigail insisted that he drank plenty of water, which he neglected because their tins were running a little closer to empty than he would’ve liked.  They were going to have to either find a spring or dig for water soon.  He really didn’t feel like digging.

That night, they settled in once more under the open sky.  The clouds were more prevalent this time, though, and most of the stars were obscured.  Levi was tired, though, so he really didn’t much care.  He did, however, make sure the bags were close by, closed tight, and secured to the ground as best they could.  That’s all they needed, he thought; to lose the remainder of their supplies.

With these thoughts rolling around in his head, Levi slowly, steadily, and gratefully slipped off to sleep.

Chapter 12

Hank awoke to the view sunlight beaming down through a grim-covered steel grate.  For just a few moments, he had absolutely no clue where he was.  He was starkly aware, however, of the face that his stomach felt like a forest fire.  What had happened?  But then he remembered.  That big guy catching him, kneeing him in the gut; pretty cheap thing to do.  That same large fellow throwing him onto the floor of some old runner.  There had been others, too, in the runner with him, he remembered.  They had flown for a while before arriving at that Mercury that had been chasing them.  He had been hit again – he didn’t quite recall where – then things had gone black.

He sat up, one hand cradling his stomach and the other rubbing his head.  There were the others, he saw.  Five others, to be specific.  No Quincy, though.  His head throbbed during the periods his stomach didn’t, so he decided that he had been hit in the head.  That wasn’t a good thing, as far as he was concerned.  The other men in the room with him didn’t seem to be in as bad a shape, though it was dark so it was marginally hard to tell.

“Where are we,” he asked to no one in particular.

“Makeshift dungeon, looks like,” one of the closest men said.  “Are you alright?  They gave you quite the thrashing.”

“I’m fine,” he lied, rubbing his temple again.  “Where’s Quincy?”

“The mechanic guy?  Don’t know.  They never threw him in here, that’s all I know.”

“Great.”  He struggled to his feet and walked a bit about their enclosure.  It was relatively large, as far as dungeon chambers went.  Hank guessed that it was the main cargo hold.  It would be empty as it was, he reasoned, to make it light and let it fly faster.  They had planned ahead.  Somehow he had never attributed this particular skill to pirates but there he was.  He looked back to the man that had talked before.

“So how do we get out of here?”

“Oh, you want to leave?  Well the door’s just over there, then.  Have a nice trip.”  The other members of the crew standing and sitting about started to laugh.  “Don’t you think we’ve already tried that?  Door is locked up tight and there’s no reaching the bay doors in the ceiling.  Might as well make yourself comfortable, boy.”

“Right.  Or I’ll just go get out of here myself.”

Standing up as straight as he could, he walked over to the relatively small hatch that stood at the far end of the cargo hold.  He gave a furtive pull on the handle, hoping against hope that they had forgotten to lock it or something.  He had no such luck, though.  With a curse, he kicked the door and peered through the little port window set within.  There wasn’t much to see beyond: just a simply hallway that bent to the right just a few yards from the door, and a gruff looking guy sitting on a chair a short distance away.  Hank decided to get his attention.

“Hey!  Hey you, you bloody pirate!  Over here!”  He banged and bashed on the door, making as much noise as possible.  The guard glanced over, but did little else.  Cursing again, Hank glanced about looking for something to aid him in his noise-making.  After a moment, he located a bundle of pipe lying in the corner.  It seemed to be the spare stuff the maintenance people used.  He pulled one free and returned to the door, banging away at the glass of the window as hard as he could.  This elicited a more overt response from the guard: he got up and walked off.

“Oh, come on!  What’s wrong with this place?”  Hank threw the pipe against the door and walked back over to where the crew sat.  “I always thought that sort of thing would at least get them to open the door.”

“This isn’t some radio adventure show.  Not sit down before you get the lot of us in trouble.”

With a huff, Hank sat.  He felt the ship rock slightly under him and he wondered idly as to where they were headed.  Pirates like to hide in the bushes, he knew, and he only remembered seeing one that was even marginally close.  That’s probably where they were going.  Why had they been looking for old Quincy, though?  More even more importantly, why had they taken six others, including him?  It didn’t really seem to make a whole lot of sense, as far as he was concerned.  He was sure that he would be able to figure out a way to escape before too long, though.

Suddenly, the far door creaked and groaned before finally swinging open, the pipe sliding along noisily behind it.  Two men walked in, one the guard that Hank had seen sitting lazily in the hall.  He had a gun in his hand this time, though.

“Which one was it,” asked the other man.  He didn’t seem to be armed.

“That one,” the guard said, pointing at Hank.  “Little bugger was banging on the door with this here pipe.  Thought he had gone mad.  Maybe even broke something.”

“Give it here,” the other man said, taking the pipe from him.  He hefted it in his hand for a moment, as if testing its balance, before nodding and walking over to Hank.  “Boy, where you making a ruckus?”

“That’s right I was.  Now let me out of here, you little…”

He was unable to finish his sentence, however, as the pipe smashed down into the side of his head, knocking him out cold once again.

 

ge

 

Yet again, Hank found himself returning to consciousness without an accurate recollection as to how he had gotten into his current situation.  This time, however, the memory came back faster thanks to the rope that bound his hand and ankles.  The chair he was sitting on was particularly hard, he also noticed, and was sure that this was part of the pirates’ diabolical plot.  Sighing, ho looked about once more.  This was a markedly smaller room, though it had windows.  It looked, in fact, like somewhere the captain might sleep and conduct his business.

“How do you like my office,” Lloyd suddenly asked from behind him, as if to validate his suspicions.  “It’s a little nicer than that dingy cargo hold, I’d wager.  Never liked it down there; too dark and creepy.  They say airmen get diseases from the musty places.”

“Uh-huh.  Where’s Quincy,” Hank asked, straining his neck in an attempt to actually see the pirate captain.

“He’ll be here momentarily, don’t worry.  But I just thought I’d ask you a question or two before he arrived.  Would that be okay?”

“You could burn for all I care.”

“But… that’s not very nice,” Lloyd said, sounding truly hurt.  “I just wanted to talk a bit.  Like, how was your trip north?  Heard some bad things are happening down south recently.”

“Just some bloody pirates doing the only thing they can do; cause trouble.  Dumb, though.  The Guard will be on all of you in no time at all.”

“Oh, I think the Colonial Guard will have its hands full for quite some time.  The Devilfish are causing quite a stir, quite a stir.  I’ve never really seen or heard of anything like it before.  Not since Blackbeard blockaded Charleston, North Carolina anyway.  But that was a while ago.  Ah, Mr. Boone!  Please, come in.”

Hank heard a door creak open and footsteps and two people entered the room.  He was trying to listen, but his chair was suddenly jerked around to face the room and he no longer needed to guess what was going on.  Lloyd continued to wear the getup he had worn back on the Iron Dove, looking ridiculous as ever.  Quincy also had a greatcoat on, as usual, but he actually pulled it off.  He didn’t look hurt or anything, as far as Hank could tell, though maybe a little dirtier than normal.  The third and final person, he saw, was Ivan.  That guy scared him; he had to admit a little.  Upon closer inspection, the man was more like a mountain, with virtually no neck, arms bigger than Hank’s thighs, and a face that screamed of former fistfights.

“Hank, my boy,” Quincy said when he saw him, stepping in his direction.  Ivan, however, put out his arm and shook his head to stop him.  Coming up short, Quincy looked Hank over quickly.  “Looks like they roughed you up a bit.  You alright?”

“I’ve had worse,” Hank yet again lied.  He was actually in more pain that he could ever remember being in previously.  “How are you holding up?”

“Oh, just fine, just fine.  Just had me locked up in a room down the hall for a spell.  Nothing too serious.”

“How touching,” Lloyd said, looking between the two.  “Now are we all satisfied?  We have business to attend to.”

“Yes, this business you keep talking about.  What is it you want, son?”

“I want what the Devilfish want.”  He then leaned back in his comfy leather chair, smiling devilishly and rubbing his hands together in front of his face.  From the look of him, you’d think he had said the cleverest thing ever conceived.  As such, he was somewhat displeased by Quincy’s answer.

“And what might that be?”

“Well, they…but you… how do you not know?”

“Well I haven’t met any Devilfish lately, to be honest.  How am I supposed to know what they’re wantin’?”

“But...  Ivan, does that make sense?”

“Possible,” the big man said.  “May not know.”

“What are you people getting at,” Hank blurted as he looked about and forth between the three men.  “Obviously we have no idea what you’re looking for.”

“Well, the Devilfish are looking for you, Mr. Boone.  They’ve been downing ships for about two days now, looking for you.”

“That was for me?  You mean like those two ships we ran into the other night?  Oh my.  I feel downright horrible now.”

“Yes, that was for you.  They’re going through quite a bit of trouble to find you, in fact.  They’re raising all that noise, of course, and that seems to be their main purpose.  But you, my friend, are a small but important side item in the Devilfish’s to-do list.”

“Well that doesn’t make sense,” Quincy said.

“Tell me about it,” Hank replied.  “What would a bunch of dirty pirates want with a machinist?  There are plenty of those about, no offense Quincy.”

“None taken, boy.”

“That’s what we’d like to know, Mr. Boone.  We, the Periwinkle Gang,” Lloyd said, adding emphasis by once more raising his fist in the air momentarily, “have been looking since we found out the Devilfish were.  They are something of a professional rival, if you will, and we decided if the Devilfish want you so badly, then so do we.”

“But I don’t know why they’d be after me.”

“Hmm.  Nothing comes to mind?”

“No, nothing in particular,” the old man said.

“Maybe lying,” Ivan suggested.

“That’s true, Ivan, that’s true.  Are you telling the truth here, Mr. Boone?”

“Well of course I am.  How dare you accuse an old man of lying?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to offend.”  Hank decided that this Lloyd “the Blue Fist” Pirate Captain was a very interesting individual, indeed.

“Could be lying again,” Ivan said.

“Hmm.  There’s only one way to make sure, I’m afraid.  Ivan?”

Before Hank could move, Ivan’s hand slammed into the side of his face with surprising force.  After the stars in his eyes began to clear and the throbbing pain started to escalate, he was surprised that Simon had managed so well from such a blow.  Ivan had a mean backhand.

“Now, Mr. Boone, why would the Devilfish want you?”

“I’m telling you, son, I have no idea.”

“A shame.”

The fist slammed into Hank’s gut this time, Ivan somehow twisting his fist as it did.  Already a sensitive area, the fist didn’t help anything.  He struggled to find his breath and made sure he wasn’t going to vomit before looking up again.  Quincy was looking at him with a broken look upon his face, obviously sorry to be causing him such pain.  Hank smiled slightly at that; Quincy was a good man.

“Perhaps you’ve done something the Devilfish would be interested in?  You are a world-class machinist, after all, are you not?  Any devices stick out in your memory?  Or maybe you’re just a go-between to get at someone else.  Any of that ring a bell?”

Quincy barely got to shake his head before Ivan’s palm slapped across Hank’s ear.  It was surprisingly painful.  A slap to the ear shouldn’t really hurt that bad, should it?  Who knew?  He could taste blood and he was sure there was some leaking out elsewhere.  The room was also a little more blurry than usual, as though reality was starting to settle in for a nap.  That was odd.

“Please stop it,” he heard Quincy implore.  “If you’re going to hit someone, hit me.  Why do this to the boy?”

“First, because you are far too valuable to beat.  And secondly, consider this his punishment.  He was supposed to be protecting you, after all, and yet here you are with a bunch of pirates.  He obviously failed and failure is met with punishment.  Now, Mr. Boone, I don’t think your friend can take too many more blows from Ivan.  Why are the Devilfish looking for you?”

Quincy looked at Hank for a moment, a look of sorrow on his face.  Hank simply smiled – or at least tried his best to – and nodded, which caused an avalanche of pain.  Quincy then shook his head once more.

“I don’t know.”

And then, for the third time that day, the world took a nap.

 

ge

 

Hank was getting tired of waking.  The going to sleep part wasn’t too bad, on the whole, and the sleeping part was practically bliss.  But waking always seemed to bring the pain back and he didn’t like that.  His stomach felt like he had recently swallowed a bunch of lava, while he was pretty sure his head had been put inside of a volcano.  Coughing – which sent waves of pain through him – he rolled slightly and, after some internal debate, opened his eyes.  That was something else about waking: he always seemed to be in a different place.  This time, he seemed to be in a room that, while not as nice as Lloyd’s office, was still pretty nice.

“Ah, you’re awake.  Thank goodness,” Quincy said from across the room.  “I thought that last one had cracked your skull.”

“Too tough for that,” Hank croaked, though he wasn’t sure if he actually formed the words correctly.  He slowly struggled to sit up and, after a bit of an effort, managed it.  He noticed Quincy bringing him a glass of water.

“Here, drink up.”  The man forced a mouthful into Hank, which he struggled down before shaking his head.

“No more.  Stomach can’t handle that just yet.”  He once more grabbed his head and looked about.  “Good grief, what’s wrong with those people?  You tell them something and they just ignore you.”

“I’m sorry about that.  I tried to get them to stop, but they just wouldn’t listen.  That Ivan hit you a few more times after you blacked out.  Talked them into letting you stay here, though.  Hopefully that won’t happen again.”

“Here’s hoping.  So, any ideas on why the Devilfish are actually after you?”

“I… may have an idea.  Maybe I should’ve just told them.  Then you wouldn’t be in the shape you’re in.”

“They probably would have done it, anyway.  No worries,” Hank said as his ear felt like it was going to fall off.  “Besides, I doubt it’s anything these pirates would be interested in, anyway, right?”

“I’m not so sure.  You see, back during the war, I was involved in a little weapons project of sorts.  I was just the hands-on guy, of course; actually built the stuff.  I wasn’t with the scientists actually comin’ up with the stuff.  I built a few things for them per their orders and they generally didn’t work too well.  But just before the end, they finally hit on something pretty nifty.  It was, in basic terms, a gun of sorts capable of stopping an airship, naval ship, or most anything else in its tracks.  Given enough power, anyway.”

Hank just starred for a moment.

“Whoa.  Seriously?  That’s pretty crazy, Quincy.  Why haven’t you mentioned this before now?”

“It’s why I’m going to North Mine, actually.  Off and on since the end of the war, I’ve been called in to help ‘em figure something out.  They were still working on it even though it wasn’t needed.  They quoted Vegetius at me: ‘Let him who desires peace prepare for war’.  A bunch of bollocks, I said.  Well, let’s just say that I figured out how to make their most recent design work.  It’s still not the mighty ship killer that they’re looking for, but it’ll do enough damage.  But I took this job in North to get away from all of that.  Didn’t even tell them how to build it again.  Just left.  So I suppose you could say that I’m the only one who knows how the thing works.”

“I think, Quincy, that I could understand why a pirate may want such a thing.”  Quincy nodded with saying anything.  “But you can’t tell them about it, no matter what.  Even if they want to beat me every day.  You can’t let that nut job Lloyd get a hold of something like that.”

“They’re talking about possibly just tradin’ me over to the Devilfish for a quick profit.  If I had to pick a pirate to be with, it would be our Blue Fist.  I’m gonna have to convince them to keep us around and, preferably, alive.”

“What do you mean.”

“I’m going to offer to build it for them.”

“What?  You can’t, Quincy.  Pirates have been doing enough damage nowadays as it is.  Give them something like you’re describing and it’ll all be over.  They’re run the entire Reach by Christmas.”

“Don’t worry.  I learned how to build something else that may come in handy.  We’ll build that, instead.  They’ll never know the difference.  And,” Quincy said, smiling, “of course I’ll be in the need of an able-bodied assistant.  So maybe they won’t beat you near to death anymore.”

“That sounds good to me,” Hank said, trying to summon a smile, himself.

“Well, then I suppose we should get to work.”

Chapter 11

Their hour of respite had passed, as it always did, in the blink of an eye.  The main engines were down and the secondary engines were running the show.  Quincy and a small squad of mechanics were flittering about down in the engine room like bees, doing things that Levi didn’t really understand.  He was very glad someone did, though.  Instead, he had positioned himself out on the deck, a scope in his hand.  He, too, had been trained in such things, after all, and he felt useless just sitting about while the crew worked.  So he spent his time calculating as best he could the distance between the two vessels.

The Iron Dove had started with a good lead; Simon’s guesses hadn’t been far off.  When they killed the primary engines, they were about an hour ahead.  But the secondary engines simply weren’t built to move the vessel efficiently under battlefield conditions.  On the warships they had been, of course, but Simon had removed those to increase cargo capacity.  While the Mercury chasing them was quite a bit larger, it was still able to steadily close the gap.  Though he didn’t say it out loud, Levi was fairly sure they wouldn’t get the main engines back online in time.

“Levi, what’s up,” Simon called as he walked from machine gun to machine gun, making sure his men were all in position and ready to go.

“Ten miles out, give or take.  We’re back where we started.  I’d say fifteen minutes before we’re in weapons range.  If they have anything bigger than a three-incher, we’ll be hearing it soon.”

“Hopefully not, then.”

“Ah, I got something else,” Levi said as he looked back down range.  “Runners coming up off the Mercury.  They’ll be trying to board, then.  They’re not advancing, though.  They’ll wait to do that once they have fire support.  Not good.”

“No it isn’t.”

“May I make a suggestion?  Arm the rest of your men.”

Suddenly a shell burst a few hundred yards back behind the airship, the sound of the shot following a moment later.  They were just taking potshots, with no real accuracy to speak of.  They had some time yet, then, before they started falling on target.  Levi simply looked down at Simon, who nodded then called out to his men.

Levi had to admit that Simon’s small arms collection was rather impressive.  It rivaled that of anything he had ever seen on a military ship, anyway.  There were a variety of rifles, both semi-automatic and bolt-action, as well as pistols, shotguns, and even a few grenade launchers.  Levi didn’t want to think about how desperate you’d have to be to make one of those effective on your own deck during defense.  He quickly checked the pistol on his hip, making sure he had enough bullets, and then grabbed both a shotgun and a Springfield rifle; a weapon that felt almost as comfortable in his hands as his pistol.

He looked around and saw Hank standing off to the side, staring at all the weapons.  It appeared as though the danger of the situation had finally dawned upon him.  Levi, however, didn’t have time to cheer the boy up.

“Hank, take this,” he said, handing him the shotgun and a small bag of shells.  “This’ll give you a full reload though you shouldn’t need it if you make your shots count.  You have your revolver, yes?”  Hank nodded.  “Good.  Start with the shotgun and go to the pistol if you run empty.  Only reload if you know you’ve got the time, otherwise just switch weapons.”

“Where on the deck should I go?”

“You’re not going to be on the deck.  I need you through that door and down the hall,” Levi said, pointing to the only door off the deck and into the ship proper.  “Your task will be to protect Abigail at all costs.  That’s what we’re here for, after all.”

“What about Quincy?”

“They’re already taking some weapons down to the mechanics.  They’ll be able to hold their own but it definitely shouldn’t come to that.”  As he spoke, he checked the mechanisms of his rifle.  It was the Air Service variety, with an extended magazine holding twenty-five rounds and a shortened barrel.  This had been the weapon in his hands almost every time his airship had boarded or been boarded by another.  The powerful bullets would do the job, he knew.  Though it lacked accuracy at range, that was rarely a problem encountered during a boarding.  He then looked back to Hank.  “Do you understand?  You do not leave Abigail no matter what.”

“I understand.”  He seemed to be split between indignation and relief as he turned and went back into the ship, holding the shotgun as tight as he possibly could.  Levi turned and joined Simon who was just finishing moving his men into position about the deck.  A number of barricades had been moved out and would provide a small amount of cover from fire that was sure to come from the runners.  Levi just hoped it would be enough.

As if to validate Levi’s previous statements, shells began to burst around the ship more regularly, one even coming close enough to pepper the deck with shrapnel.  Most, however, were more flash than explosion.  This told Levi something important: they wanted the crew’s heads down but they wanted most to remain alive.  That was a touch unlike pirates.  Curious, he moved over to the edge of the deck and lifted his scope once more.  The runners were now moving toward them, though not in a terribly quick manner.  They would be coming in range of the three-incher soon; it wasn’t safe for them yet.

“They don’t get on, do you understand me,” Simon screamed to his crew.  “If a pirate makes in on board, so help me, I’ll dock your pay for a week!”

The men grumbled to themselves and continued looking out into the open air.  Such a beautiful day, Levi thought.  It was a shame people were going to have to die on such a day.  But then, that was their decision and not his.  He had to remind himself of that as he found himself a position on the deck.

After only a few moments, the big gun on the Iron Dove started firing, lobbing shells every four seconds or so in the general direction of the runners and the Mercury.  The runners simply began bobbing and weaving through the air as they came on and there was little chance of actually hitting the things directly.  The majority of the fire was concentrated, then, on the main ship.  A few hits were scored, Levi could see, as small plumes of flame and smoke puffed up from the still-distant vessel.  But unfortunately, he also knew that such hits weren’t likely to slow the ship down much.  It was simply too big and too well protected.  It would have to be much closer and take a lot more shells before it was in any real danger.

Surprisingly, the Iron Dove hadn’t taken any direct hits yet.  The helmsman was moving about in a standard battle pattern, of course, as Levi felt the ship move about underneath him, but the Mercury should have been able to put at least one shell on target by now.  Instead, though, they continued to burst around the ship, causing a sense of trepidation but little else.  Levi assumed that they wanted to take the ship whole so they could add it to their collection.  It was a fine ship, after all, and would make an excellent pirating vessel.  Generally, when pirates took a vessel out of the sky they killed everyone on board.  This was a thought Levi pushed to the back of his mind.

The report of a machine gun suddenly sounded loudly across the deck as the gunner decided to fire off a volley at the nearest runner.  They were getting close now, Levi could see.  There were three of them, all told.  One was obviously a gunship meant for nothing more than fire support.  It had a machine gun mounted on either side and Levi knew that it would simply hover about the deck firing away.  The other two were carriers, filled with people ready to actually put boots on deck.  They’d come in hard and fast, the men leaping out as quickly as they could, hoping the gunship was covering them.  It wasn’t a fantastic position to be it; quite vulnerable, but it was the only way to take a vessel quickly.

The other machine gun nests finally opened up fire and the gunship began doing the same.  With a grunt, Levi threw himself behind a barricade as bullets started to pelt the deck.  The opening salvo was always the worst, he thought.  While the big guns fired on one another, the individual on the deck was little more than helpless and simply had to wait for the boarders to arrive.  It wasn’t a long wait.

To his left, one of the carrier runners flew into view.  On instinct, he turned and fired a round into the ship, not really aiming at anything in particular.  He slid the bolt back, now taking time to actually look at things.  There were maybe ten to twelve men sitting in the open middle of the ship, with the pilot sitting up front.  Most of the pirates were firing their guns wildly down onto the deck, their random assortment of firearms sounding like a horrible orchestra.  He fired again, this time finding his mark.  The man slumped back, gulping, as the bullet tore into his gut.  It was a fatal shot, though it would take some time to bleed out.  Unfortunately for the pirate, his comrades knew this and considered him dead weight.  With a push, he fell from the side of the ship and plummeted out of sight.

His shot, however, had drawn their attention and he had to quickly duck back behind his cover as a few men shot at him.  Working the bolt once more, he let his ears tell him when it was okay to aim again.  There was a break in the noise, finally, and Levi leaned over and aimed this time at the pilot.  It would be little more than a luck shot, but it was worth a try.  Just as he was about to pull the trigger, one of the machine guns on the deck opened up on the runner, killed two men, before it was forced to dip down and out of sight.  Cursing, Levi turned and looked for the other ships that he knew would be out there somewhere.

The gunship moved into position up a bit on the starboard side as its guns began to again rattle against the deck.  Levi fired a few rounds at the ship before being forced back under cover once more.  It was strangely peaceful, this dance that he seemed to find himself in; pop out, fire, pop back in before getting hit.  It seemed so simple.  The fear and uncertainty that he had felt back in the harbor was gone; instead, he was mechanically going through the motions of firing on incoming boarding vessels.  Just like he was trained to do.

He heard one of Simon’s men call out and he looked over the cover to see the first runner coming low over the far end of the deck.  The gun ship was just above and behind it, providing adequate cover fire as the pirates leapt from the small ship.  With a curse, he lowered his head and dashed over to where Simon sat behind a number of stacked crates.

“Bloody hell,” Simon said as a round sank into the wood beside his head, smiling despite himself.  “They’re not messing around, huh?”

“Wouldn’t seem that way.”  Levi rose up and shot at a pirate who hadn’t managed to find cover quickly enough.  The bullet grazed his shoulder, eliciting a cry of pain as one of his compatriots grabbed and pulled him to cover.  “Did you get a look at their arms, though?”

Simon nodded.  “They aren’t Devilfish.  No idea who they are, either, and at this point I don’t really care.”  Following Levi’s example, Simon stood and, extending his pistol forward, got off three quick rounds before ducking down again.  An explosion sounded down the deck and Levi looked out to see the runner that had recently moved in on flames.  The machine gun had torn into its engine, causing it to burst into flames.  A few men were still in the thing.

Almost as if in slow motion, the ship listed and wheel up over the deck of the Iron Dove as the flames licked over its interior.  Just as it was about to go down past the railing and out of sight, Levi saw one of the pirates inside grab his weapon, climb over one of his pirate friends, and jump toward the ship.  With gymnastic precision, the pirate tucked himself into a ball and hit the deck in a roll.  In a second he was back on his feet, his eyes quickly scanning about for enemies.  The man was obviously skilled, Levi knew, so he almost felt bad as he leveled his weapon and fired into the man’s chest.  He fell with a thud onto the deck and didn’t move as Levi worked the bolt action of his weapon once more.

Levi watched as one of the men working a machine gun was hit in the neck.  He slumped over, the gun going silent, which garnered a small cheer from the pirates down deck.  Though that end had been cleared particularly to limit the pirates cover, they had managed to advance enough to find some for themselves.  Levi patted Simon on the shoulder before dashing up once more to another group of boxes closer to the front of the ship.  He felt somewhat ridiculous in his khaki slacks, suspenders, and white dress shirt as he crouched with his rifle in hand.  It wasn’t the general image of airship battle attire and he couldn’t help but think that his old XO would have yelled at him for it.

He fired again, keeping a silent count of the shells expended.  He wouldn’t do anyone any good if he ran out of bullets, after all, and the rifle took a while to reload.  A number of load shots sounded behind him and he whirled to see the men crewing the three-incher shot down by men on the second runner.  Levi wasn’t sure how they had got back there but he knew that wasn’t good.  Catching Simon’s attention, he pointed up to the gun just as the pirates started jumping down upon that part of the deck.  A number of them went through the floor hatch, which led down into the bowels of the ship.  With a grimace, Levi ran back toward the door but was cut off by the remainder of the pirates as the moved down onto the deck proper.

They were surrounded, Levi thought as he quickly threw himself behind the boxes, hitting the ground hard.  Grimacing, he rubbed his shoulder and tried to gage the situation.  There were maybe ten pirates up deck in good position.  There were now about ten more down deck, also in excellent position.  He guessed there were about ten more moving through the ship.  Simon had perhaps fifteen men left on the deck.  There were ten or so below deck, including Hank, Abigail, Quincy and the mechanics.  He wasn’t too worried about those below deck, though.  It was a hard thing fighting your way through the narrow corridors of an airship and he knew there were at least a few good men down those halls, not to mention Hank and his shotgun.

He couldn’t do anything for them at the moment, though, as the bullets continued to fly above his head.  The ship shuttered and came to a stop, the sounds of the engines dying heard even over all of the gunfire.  They had taken the bridge, then.  This was the point at which sane captains often surrendered their ship lest the entirety of the crew be slaughtered.  Simon, of course, wasn’t one such captain.  Instead he had bellowed something derogatory toward the pirates, and then called to his men to continue fighting.  Levi knew, though, that they couldn’t keep up the fight for much longer.

The door leading into the ship suddenly flew open, a pirate stumbling backward through it as it did.  A loud blast issued from down the hall, knocking him on his back.  A second later, Hank – followed closely by Abigail – flew through the door and, after a second of searching, over to Levi.  Hank looked a touch flustered, with his clothes and hair all in disarray and the bag of shells nowhere to be seen.  Abigail wasn’t fairing much better, though she was more composed than Levi would have expected.

“What are you doing,” Levi yelled as the crouched down beside him.  “I told you to stay inside.”

“And that was fine, Boss, until the pirates came inside, too.”  Hank pumped his shotgun, his eyes flying wildly across the deck.  “Thought you may be doing better out here, though… doesn’t seem to be the case.”

“No, not quite.”  Levi fired another two rounds down the deck before speaking.  “Abigail, are you alright?”

“Yes, I think so,” she said, seemingly unable to stay still.  “How are things here?”

“They’re on both sides of us, apparently they’re down below, and they have the bridge.  All told, it’s not a fantastic situation.”

Hank’s shotgun sounded as he haphazardly fired at a pirate well out of range.  Levi smacked him on the back of the head before shooting at the pirate himself.  “You’ll never hit anything at range like that.  Save your ammunition.”

He looked about for Simon, trying to see if the man had some sort of plan for getting out of this.  Unfortunately, the situation had turned rather desperate rather quickly.  He finally caught his eye and, for a time, they simply stared at one another.  Then Levi nodded and Simon dropped his head for just a moment before standing.

“Cease fire,” he called out to his men, “cease fire.  Rein it in, boys.”

As the gunfire dropped away, Simon stood and walked out into the open, his arms out to his side, no weapons to be seen.  Sighing, a number of men did the same.  Levi sat his rifle down, indicated that Hank should do the same, and then walked out to Simon.  This was, unfortunately, his first surrender.

The pirates gave a cheer before rounding them up and moving them to the cleared portion of the deck.  A few moments later, Quincy and a few of the mechanics – Levi assumed these were all that were left alive – made their way up to join them, prodded along at rifle-point.  Levi made eye contact with Quincy, who nodded and smiled sadly.  One of the pirates walked over to the railing and silently fired a bright red flare into the sky before turning and speaking very simply.

“You stay here.  The boss is coming.  Then we see what happens.”

“Can’t think for yourself, huh,” Simon asked, stepping forward, that annoying smirk upon his face.  Without speaking, the man cleared the distance between them and backhanded him hard.  Simon dropped to the deck with a grunt, his hand holding his face.  Simon’s men collectively inhaled and a couple moved to help him up.  Levi just shook his head and waited as Abigail’s hand somehow slipped into his.  He held on tight.

About ten minutes later, a runner slowly drifted into vision.  It was the second runner, Levi saw, and had more than a couple bullet holes in it.  It ran just fine, though, and slowly it settled down onto the deck.  Two men quickly jumped out, shiny new Thompson machine guns in their hand, before a third man moved forward.  He wore a black greatcoat that hung down to his ankles, the sleeves completely covering his hands.  On his head rested a large black beret with what looked to be a lavender blue flower patch sewn on.  A brown beard drooped across his chest and, to the silent amusement of Levi, actually had an eye patch.

He paced for a time back in forth in front of the gathered sailors, looking each in the face, before turning and walking a few paces away.  And then turned back dramatically, throwing his coat behind him for emphasis and pointed to one of Simon’s men.

“You must be the captain,” he said in an ironically high voice.  The man, however, simply shook his head and looked confused.  “No?  Oh…”

“That would be me, sport,” Simon said, taking a step forward.  His jaw was starting to swell up a bit but he tried to hold himself with as much dignity as he could.  “And who in the bloody hell are you?”

“Well, my name’s Lloyd,” the pirate captain said, seemingly reflexively, before reasserting his pirate persona, “But most call me the Blue Fist!”

A few of the other pirates aboard shook their heads despite themselves.

“Alright, Lloyd, what do you want?”

“It’s the Blue Fist!  And I’m the conquering captain, thank you, so I’ll be asking the questions.  But first,” Lloyd said, clearing his throat and then raising his first above him.  “We, the Periwinkle Gang, claim this ship as our own!  Hazzah!”

 He looked pointedly at the pirates around him, who – after a momentary pause – gave an unenthusiastic cheer back.  Simon, however, was obviously struggling to hold back laughter.

“The… Periwinkle Gang?  Seriously?”

“Well yes,” Lloyd said, looking hurt.  “It’s a shrub from Europe that has these little blue flowers on it.  Vinca Minor?  It’s a color, too.  Did you even go to school?”

“I learned enough to know that pirates don’t name themselves after sissy colors.”

This earned him another backhand from the large, quiet pirate standing close by.

“Thank you, Ivan.  Now, we are looking for someone by the name of Quincy Boone.  Is he aboard?”

Levi tensed and he felt Abigail do the same at the mention of Quincy’s name.  This was more than a little unexpected.  What did the pirates want with an old machinist?  Levi saw Hank clench his fists so he quickly put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, the silent don’t do it obvious in his look.

“Don’t know that name.  Sorry, brother.”

“That’s a shame.  Ivan?”

The large pirate, obviously named Ivan, took a step back from the group, pulled a pistol from his hip and, before anyone could say another word, shot one of Simon’s men at point blank range in the chest.  The man, as surprised as anyone else, simply stood there for a moment, swaying, before falling to the deck.  The blood slowly started to pool under him as his eyes glazed over.

“Alright, son, that’s enough of that,” Quincy said, stepping forth before Levi could stop him.  “I’m old Boone; now don’t go killin’ anyone else.  What are you wantin’ me for?”

“Ah, Mr. Boone.  Nice to meet you, I’m Lloyd.”  He quickly shook hands with Quincy, an odd sight, before continuing.  “We’re here to take you away, of course.  You’re a very popular man nowadays.”

“I don’t think so,” Levi said, finally mustering up a little courage.  To add emphasis to his words, he drew his pistol – which had somehow not been taken from him while they waited – and pointed it at Lloyd.  All of the pirates on deck pointed their gun at him in return.  “This man is under my charge.  You’ll not be taking him anywhere.”

This did not, however, garner the response he had been looking for.  Lloyd just chuckled.

“Ah, you must be his escort.  How brave; hadn’t expected that.  There was another one of you Hannan dogs, wasn’t there?  There were supposed to be two.”

Levi mentally willed Hank to stay back, but before he could even sigh, the boy stepped up beside him.

“That’s right, I’m here.  What’cha going to do about it?”

“You have some spunk, boy.  But be quiet, the adults are talking.”

“Why you little…” Hank moved forward with more speed than Levi had anticipated and took a cut at Lloyd’s head.  Unfortunately for Hank, Ivan was faster.  He caught his fist mid-swing and brought his knee up into Hank’s gut.  He fell to the ground, the air knocked from his lungs, and rolled around a bit.  Lloyd just chuckled again.

“Fun kid.  Throw him on the runner.”

“I wouldn’t, unless you have no further use for your head,” Levi said, resolve upon his face.

“Mr. Hannan-Man, let me tell you something.  I’m the only one keeping even this many of you alive.  If my crew had their way, they’d throw you all over the edge.  If I were to die, they’d simply shoot all of you.”

Levi’s arm wavered for a moment, considering.  Lloyd did seem to be of a slightly different disposition to that of his crew and he knew that they were, at least, skilled fighters.  With a sigh, he lowered his weapon and holstered it.  Oddly, they didn’t try to take his weapon yet again.  As soon as his hand left the grip, though, Ivan grabbed yet another man and dragged him over to the edge of the deck.  The man struggled, but Ivan obviously had a mountainous grip upon him.  Lloyd just sighed.

“This is punishment for your obstinance, Mr. Hannan-Man.”  Ivan then threw the sailor overboard.  His screams could be heard for a moment before he was too far below.  Levi shook with anger at both himself and Lloyd.  “Now, we’ll also be taking a few of you to help out back on the ship.  Doesn’t that sound lovely?  We’ll leave Mr. Hannan-Man, and – as much as it pains me – his lady friend, as well.  You wouldn’t want to come anyway.  The men are… sometimes beyond my control.  Consider it a courtesy.  And a captain must go down with his ship, yes?  Ivan, please?”

Ivan pointed to a number of Simon’s crew, grunted, and then pointed to the runner.  After some delay, the men slowly shambled forth and climbed into the ship, anger, fear, and a multitude of other emotions playing across their face.  After this little culling, there were only a few still standing on the deck, including Simon, Levi, and Abigail.  Those remaining unconsciously moved closer together as a number of pirates piled into the runner before it lifted off and started drifting back toward the main airship.  Only a moment later, another runner – Levi suspected it was the gunship from earlier – landed and the remaining pirates got on board.

“That’s that, then.  It was fun, everyone.  Take care.”  With a salute and an oddly innocent smile, he turned and climbed onto the runner.  Levi reached for his pistol once more, but Abigail grabbed his arm and shook her head.  With another sigh, he acquiesced and relaxed his arm.  Suddenly, Lloyd called out again.  “Oh, and Mr. Hannan-Man?  Never point a gun at me again.”

He felt the pain before he heard the gunshot.  The bullet bit into his right thigh, gouging flesh and flooding him with agony.  His vision flared and all of the air in his lungs left him as he fell back onto the deck, his hands reacting for the wounded area.  The world was a very small place for a time as he tried to regain his breath.  On inspection, the wound wasn’t life-threatening, which was good.  It had simply caught a good amount of flesh and felt like fire.  Abigail was down with him in a moment, her hand tearing back the fabric from the area.  She pulled a roll of gauze from the back slung about her shoulder – odd, Levi hadn’t noticed that there before – and started stuffing and wrapping his leg.  As his vision returned, he saw Simon standing over him.

“Brilliant, brother.  Now what are we supposed to do?”

“You could help me to my feet,” Levi answered, stretching out his hand.  With a grunt and a stab of pain lancing up through his leg and into his back, Levi limped up onto his feet.  He leaned on Simon and looked about.  Only two of the crew remained; he couldn’t remember their names.  “What do you suppose we’re supposed to do now?”

A number of explosions down below answered.  The ship shook and Levi lost his balance, falling to the deck once more.  Gouts of flames rose up from below, blowing out windows and soaring into the air.  The Iron Dove started to list dangerously before one final explosion sounded.  Then the ship seemed to drop out from beneath them a bit as it started to fall out of the air.  Things only got worse after that.