by Michael Rigg
"Whoa now, defaulted land contract?" Strong sniffed. "Slow down, boy. Now I'm not in the position of loaning out my battalion to some flighty ground captain who ain't strong enough to hold onto a plot of—"
"It's Atlantis, sir."
Strong stopped. He blinked and his eyes widened slightly. Whether in annoyance or disbelief, Bryce couldn't tell.
He continued. "Yes, sir, Atlantis. Landry Holdings has held ownership over many of the world's most enigmatic discoveries, sir, but this is just—"
"This is for real?"
Bryce nodded slightly.
General Strong sneered and shook his head. “A fairy tale?” He huffed and held a hand up to stop Bryce from saying anything else. “This conversation would be over were I not a personal fan of your brother.”
Bryce felt acidic bile rise in his throat, his mind rolling over thoughts of his dear brother and how he had tried to rape Alice. Bryce wasn't done with Clayton, not by a long shot, but he had to get Alice back first. He had to square accounts with her and show her that he understood, that he cared, and that he'd never let anything like that happen again. He quickly added to his hopeful inquest. “General, my father has unearthed schematics through ADAM and EVE that indicate this particular plot of underwater land has enough energy to fuel every machine in the modern world. Fairy tale or not, suh, if the Yankees get hold of it—considering our uneasy truce with the north—I don't hold much hope for the future.”
Strong pointed his chin at Bryce "And you know where it is—supposedly?"
Bryce nodded. "The problem, sir, is that the individual with the key to Atlantis has gone missing. Without her, Thorne & Wolfe can't do anything with their claim."
Strong smirked, starting to get the picture, "But if Landry Holdings retains this... individual ...you'll have a bargaining chip to swing the property back to y'all."
"Exactly, sir." Bryce suspected there was more to it than that. How exactly Alice served as a “key” he didn't know, but keeping her close to him was a start.
"Tell me," Strong sniffed again, lowering his arms and tugging down at his tunic, "Can you confirm the military importance of Atlantis?"
Bryce knew where he was going. He took a step closer and spoke in hushed tones. "I've spoken with EVE myself, sir. I don't have the specifics, but I do know that whatever is within Atlantis has the power to shift the balance of nations, sir. We can be looking at the end of global war forever... or the beginning of a world-wide civil war the likes of which we'd never seen."
Strong released a breath through his nose and chuckled. "So, in other words, the end of my career, or the end of my life?"
Bryce narrowed one eye. "To be honest, sir, I can't say. But, if that's what it came to, which would you rather?"
Another heartbeat passed. Bryce felt as though the sun moved another thirty degrees across the sky. Then the General took a deep breath and pointed out toward an officer standing with the cadre of guards. "Wilson! Go the Flight Master. Tell him to fetch Captain Landry the best pilot and fastest plane on the base."
The man nodded, threw a salute, and said, "Sir!" before jogging off.
Strong stepped up and glared down at Bryce. "I sincerely hope I don't regret this, Captain, but I can see your determination, I know of your brother the colonel, and I hold stock in Landry Holdings." His smile was almost 'civilian'. "I have a lot invested in your father's company. If this pays out I could be able to retire a wealthy officer. And, frankly, I'm too old and out-of-practice to wish for a stand-up war. I'd rather do this quickly and as painlessly as possible."
"Yes sir," Bryce nodded unsmiling. Then he turned and signaled for Lucien before turning back to the General. "Thank you, suh."
As the final arrangements were made and he and Lucien were escorted to the air field, Bryce couldn't help but wonder at how hard Clayton was trying to right his wrongs. Sure, the help from General Strong and the battalion at Fort Campbell may help—may even come in handy—but none of it erased what Clayton tried to do to Alice.
The incident in the greenhouse played over and over in his mind, but he had trouble resolving what it was Clayton said he had tried to do to Alice with the look of abject fear in his brother's eyes. Clayton was a believer. He may be a hard-nosed, black-and-white starched collar soldier of a man, but in his heart he held strong to his beliefs about God and the Holy Trinity.
Whatever it was he saw branded on Alice's back, it was changing him.
~~~~~~~
Wilco called out into his headset mic, "Echo Victor Mike Lima one-one-four Juliet, this is Whiskey Romeo Charlie two-seven-four Kilo, come in."
The headset crackled in Wilco's ears before the Scottish woman's voice returned. "'Ello, Wilco, we're readin' ya! Do ya want to talk to Alice?"
"Just let 'er know I'm here."
The small yellow biplane buzzed the length of the Mystic Lady. Wilco banked past the tail rudder and ailerons as he made his pass of the airship. On the far side, he came around and throttled down the engines to get a closer look. Banking slightly, he could make out the faded lettering: MYS C LA Y, a tattered Confederate flag flapping from a lower mast, and a dark suited gangly man waving from the forward wheel house.
It wasn't easy to do without Pandora there to help him, but Wilco managed to waggle the wings and stutter the throttle enough to maneuver under the long, gray, sausage-shaped vessel. From underneath, he was able to see gantry hooks for plane or kite coupling and access hatches. All he'd have to do is match their course and speed and hook the plane's top wing latches to the couplings under the central part of the airship, and kill his engine, then he could climb inside and see Alice. By that time, Bryce—he hoped—would be well on his way.
They must have gathered what he was up to because one of the belly hatches opened up and a blond woman stuck her head out. She waved frantically at him and motioned him closer. Wilco reached up and gave the girl the thumbs up sign before gunning the throttle and maneuvering into position.
~~~~~~~
Captain Max Cooper's Assault Kite Wing throttled up when they locked on to Wilco's last transmission. They could only determine distance based on the signal strength, but Max had a knack for navigation and knew precisely where to find them based on the quality and tone of the static in the hijacked call, the chirps and whines of distant traffic from Chicago, Memphis and Knoxville.
As the four kites angled and dipped below the clouds, Max signaled his co-pilot and told him to transmit their position back to General Gehrels.
Max's squint and snarl of determination became a wide grin as the airship came into view in the distance. The bright yellow plane under the fat blimp's body was unmistakable. Max raised his right hand and waved toward his wingman. The wingman nodded his acknowledgment and Max waved two fingers in a circular motion before pointing them toward the blimp and plane. Then Max pushed his throttle up and Selly lunged forward, cutting through the sky with a stream of hot steam behind her.
~~~~~~~
Wilco smiled and waved up at the girl, who was close enough now that he could see the cat-whisker tattoo on the corner of her mouth. Even from this distance, he figured her to be the Scottish girl, the wife of the gangly man on the bridge. Just as he wondered where Alice could be, an arm appeared in the dark hatch, waving. She leaned forward and Wilco smiled up at her and waved back. Then he—
The rattling clangs and sparks from the machinegun fire dashed along the underside of the Mystic Lady's hull. Wilco saw Alice and the girl flinch back before slamming the heavy hatch closed.
Wilco turned his attention to the air around him just in time to see four black kites banking—one left, two right, one straight ahead—barreling toward him with its guns spitting white fire.
A second volley of gunfire clanked and thumped into the hull of the Canary. Wilco could smell the smoke and oil as a bright orange flame erupted from the engine. Pressure gauges in the cockpit dropped, needles spun crazily as the dwarfish pilot pushed the control yoke forward and banked to the left
, taking the plane out of range of the airship in an effort to lead the black planes away from Alice and her friends. He didn't have to see the TW logo on the wings to know who they were. Wilco cursed as he realized they had probably been tracking him. Maybe they found something out from Pandy. Maybe the ghoul read her mind and knew everything he did.
As the four fighters banked wide far behind them, the lead coming back around to take aim on the Canary, Wilco frantically danced over the controls with his eyes and hands. He quickly pulled a fuel release valve to bypass the tank that had been clipped and shut down the fuel pump. He hoped to bank down toward the ground in a long, slow cartwheel until he was low enough to either re-engage his engine or find a soft place to ditch.
But he never made it that far.
As the slower biplane slowly banked down and away from the pirate airship, Max Cooper's kite opened fire with its main cannon. The 80 caliber shells tore through the fuselage, the lower wing, the engine block and the pilot's body. Wilco was dead before the Canary exploded into a fireball of shattered plane parts and broken wings.
~~~~~~~
Hundreds of miles away, Pandora slept fitfully on a bed of gravel where she lie staked to the floor of an abandoned subway tunnel. The red-eyed ghouls watching over her tilted their heads and scratched themselves as they observed a tear rolling down her cheek.
She drew a breath in her sleep and whispered, "Daddy."
CHAPTER 29, “Dogfight”
Maggie must have seen it coming only moments before I did. She pushed into me and knocked me off my knees onto the deck as she reached up and slammed the hatch closed.
I had heard it too before I saw it, the gunfire from a black delta-winged balloon-plane cut through the air. I had seen one of the other planes whiz by, far below Wilco's plane, but then—
The last thing I remembered seeing was Wilco smiling up at us, then a look of surprise and shock as the first volley of the attacking plane tore into the wings of his own. He dove down, or tried to. Maggie and I were protected from the blast, but it still bounced us into the air as the hot fireball erupted just below the Mystic Lady.
"Wilco!" I screamed, and scrambled for the hatch. I had to see if he somehow made it, if he managed to eject or parachute or something. Of course deep inside I knew the answer to that question, but part of me had to see it. It was like I had experienced this kind of loss before, lost friends or comrades in battle and had to see for myself the charred corpse or bullet-riddled body to know they were really gone. Flashes sparked in my mind of faces and uniforms, torn Kevlar and flak vests.
"No!" Maggie cried out as she dove to intercept me. She caught me just as I had my hand on the hatch ring. "No, Alice! He's gone!" She wrapped her arms around me, more to hold me back than to offer me a hug of solace, though it worked for that too. I reached around her weakly as if I could somehow touch the little man's spirit and bring him back. Maggie whispered in my ear, "I'm sorry, love. E's gone. There's nothin' we can—"
A series of shuddering pops, pings and clunks impacted with the airship all around us. Whoever had shot down Wilco was now shooting at us!
I pulled out of Maggie's arms at the same time she pushed me away and scrambled to her feet. She reached the door and yanked it open just as a line of silver dollar-sized holes punched through the far wall above her head. She yelped and ducked down, screaming, "Kevin!" as she made her way forward.
"Maggie, no!" I cried out and jumped up to chase after her, but the spry Scottish girl was more used to moving quickly through airships and was half-way to the bridge just as I was darting out onto the grated corridor that ran the length of the ship. I looked down through the grates just in time to see two of the black delta-winged planes roar by. I lost my balance and slid to the side, bumping against the wall and grabbing the guide rail for support. I felt us bank higher, saw foggy mists roll by below us as Kevin pulled up into the clouds.
Another volley pounded the airship from the side. I dove to the deck and held tight, my fingers curled around the grates as sparks flew and loud pops and clinks ricocheted through the ship. In front of me, a pipe burst and a white torrent of steam hissed across the hall. I could feel the moisture from it, and the heat. I heard Maggie scream ahead of me and I pulled myself forward, diving through the burning stream of hot air toward the bridge, the scalding mists tearing into my back through my clothes.
The bridge door was open. Two holes had punched into it, one of them busting a hinge. I saw Maggie and Kevin huddled on the floor in the corridor just outside the bridge, and felt the cool wind whipping through from the shattered panes in there.
Kevin's arm was bleeding, but otherwise he seemed all right. I got to them and started to move past them, shouting out to the British kid tied to the chair. "Leslie!"
Kevin winced as he reached up with his good arm and grabbed a fistful of my skirt. "No, Alice. He's gone."
But, as I'd said, I needed to see for myself. I pulled free of Kevin's grip as I pushed my way onto the inclining bridge and only had to glance in the direction of what was left of Leslie Southby as he hung like a bloodied rag over the side of the chair, parts of him splattered across broken glass and sparking dials and wires from the shattered controls on that side of the bridge. I looked forward and saw that the map table had been destroyed and chunks of the ship's wheel were missing, but Kevin had somehow managed to loop the rope on one of the handles to keep us on course.
"Alice!" I heard Maggie call behind me.
As I turned to join them, another series of high-caliber shots riveted through the ship. More steam pipes burst on the bridge and black smoke curled up from somewhere aft. "They're shooting us down!" I called out as I dove down beside Kevin and Maggie.
Maggie's eyes were as wide and full of panic as they were when the pirates took us. She reached out and clutched at me. "He's 'urt, Alice! My Kevin!"
Again, some distant memory uncorked and filled me with knowledge. I stood up, keeping my head low in case another cascade of gunfire burst through, and tore at my skirt. It ripped cleanly down one seam, then around at an angle so I was left with something resembling a tattered rag that was half mini and half knee-length. I twisted the fabric into a rope and tied it tightly around Kevin's wound, but only after I probed the muscle and flesh with my fingers. He cried out in pain, but Maggie held on to him; she saw that I knew what I was doing. “Looks like a bad graze. No shrapnel inside,” I said as I removed my red stained hands and tied the wound rag around his arm. I didn't know how I knew what to do, but I did. I cinched it tight over the wound to stop the bleeding. It was bad, but not quite severe enough for a tourniquet.
"Hang on, Kevin. You'll be okay. These look to be at least fifty to eighty caliber. Whatever winged your arm just split the skin at an angle."
His eyes widened and he looked down at my skirt-bandage, already soaking dark maroon with his blood. "I'll need a tetanus shot," he tried, and coughed out a laugh.
Another volley pinked and thumped deeper in the ship. An explosion rocked us and I felt the airship lurch to the side, then level out. I glanced over my shoulder and saw broken billows of white all around us. We were in cloud cover. That was good for as long as it lasted. They couldn't keep hitting us blindly, though I suspected the damage was done and we'd start descending—rapidly—any second, especially if they'd punctured the airship like they punctured Kevin's arm.
"Parachutes!" I shouted, and rose to my unsteady feet to step past them and begin searching.
"Alice!" Maggie called out, but I pointed back at her and ordered, "Get to the radio. Call for help!"
She pinched her mouth closed and nodded. The radio room was just across from where she sat huddled with Kevin. She could operate the machine while keeping an eye on him.
I moved from room to room, frowning as I struggled to imagine where parachutes would be kept on a thing like this. I made my way aft, darting past the weakening white flame of steam, ducking under another, then coughing my way through a cloud of black smoke befor
e opening the door to the main hatch. The engines still roared loudly, but deafening woof-pop sounds were coming from the one on my left. I could see black smoke and flaming debris dropping into the clouds through the open hatch. I'd have to move quickly to get us out of here.
In a nearby locker, I found a long rifle, coils of rope, and hand-pump water-filled fire extinguisher, and two things that looked like olive drab knapsacks. "Here we go." I grabbed one and turned it. Sure enough, it was a parachute. It looked to be in good condition, a brass D-ring ripcord in place and the whole thing packed neatly. The other one... I pulled it down and turned it. The ripcord was torn and a looped wire of some kind was crudely tied on the tattered end of one of the shoulder straps. I couldn't trust it. Besides, I peeked into the cover flap and saw the parachute inside was crammed in, tangled in rope and smelled of mildew.
Taking the one good chute and hooking it over my shoulder, I scrambled around the open hatch to another locker where I found a loose chute with no pack and an assortment of rusted tools. A red door at the far end of the hangar-room was marked ENGINE. I made my way there, but stopped when I saw the moisture bubbling around the bottom edge of the hatch, heard the high-pitched squeal of steam escaping just beyond it. I decided I wouldn't risk opening the pressure door to search the engine room, so I made my way back.
The ship dipped forward suddenly and lurched. An explosion behind me threw me forward onto the deck. I heard a heavy clang and boom and imagined the engine room door blowing off its hinges. That probably wasn't it, though. It was more likely our sputtering engine had finally blown. Up ahead, I saw Maggie huddled on the floor by her husband again. She called out to me, "I sent a Mayday and our position, but I dunno if it went out."
Kevin winced. "If the bloody stars are still flying, we'll be identified as Confed. Those Imperials shooting at us will start a shooting war if anyone catches them on this side of the border."
I crouched down by Kevin and Maggie and pushed the parachute toward her. "Here." She looked at me, her eyes wide again, then glanced to her husband. Before she could say anything, I said, "There's only one, Maggie. You're taking it."
