Marshal Law

by Adam D Jones

  “Right.” Marshal counted under his breath. “Only five on each ship. That’s strange.”

  “Makes the ship lighter. If a mission’s urgent, they sometimes send out small crews so that the sandships can get a little more speed.”

  “You did a fine job pissing off Republic, didn’t you?” Marshal looked around. “Got any more of those metal sheets?”

  “Two. We stowed them below.”

  He nodded and scratched his chin, hatching a plan. “Two panels. Two ships. Should be enough.”

  ◆◆◆

  They dragged both large metal sheets, each as tall and wide as Dawn, onto the deck, and then knelt at the back of the ship against the metal hull. Shots rang out from both Republic ships. Most of them flew wide, but a few slammed into the deck floor.

  Marshal glanced up and then crouched as a few shots rang out. One sailed over their heads, close enough for them to hear its crackle. “One more minute and they’ll be crawling all over our ship. Be ready.”

  They remained in place, crouching like frightened children, while the Republic ships closed in on each side. Dawn could hear the enemy engines, could feel them rumble, while rifles continued their assault. The shooting paused for a moment and Dawn looked at Marshal with her eyebrows raised. Now?

  He shook his head, and at almost the same time a flurry of gunshots erupted, pelting the hull.

  Marshal held up a single finger, asking them to keep waiting. Marshal, they’re practically in our laps! She watched him cock his ear toward the sounds and finally realized that he was counting, listening for the number of shots and trying to decide when most of the Republic men would be reloading. Smarter than you look.

  A barrage broke out from both sandships. Dawn could feel the impact from both sides as the sandship rocked under the blows. She winced at the sound of steam escaping a pipe.

  Marshal snarled and pumped a fist.

  Dawn and the prisoner grabbed one of the large metal sheets and slid it overboard, throwing it under the nearest ship. Marshal took hold of the second sheet by himself and hurled it toward the other ship. The three of them ducked under a sudden burst of gunfire and then slowly raised their heads to watch.

  Both ships ran over the metal sheets. The engines pounded the metal into the ground, making sounds louder than the rifle shots, and each ship was thrown into the air.

  The ship on the right spun violently and turned over. It hit the ground, upside down, its engines uselessly sputtering against the air.

  “That way!” said Marshal, pointing to the ship on their left. It wobbled and veered, but somehow kept from turning over.

  Dawn rushed to the controls and tried to steer them close while their ship, reeling from gunshots, threatened to pull apart at the seams.

  Just another minute, broken ship. Just keep it together for one more minute. For me.

  The Lodi rushed to the control rods. Dawn pointed their nose at the Republic ship, then turned and shouted, “STOP!” The Lodi nodded and pulled back on the controls, slowing them to a crawl. Dawn spun the controls and swung them into a position alongside the wavering Republic ship. Soldiers on board were crouching with arms spread to keep their balance while their captain, a man wearing more medals than the others, struggled at the controls. Dawns steered and slowed their speed until the ships were side by side.

  “Here we go!” Marshal leaped over the railing and landed on the deck of the Republic ship. He charged into a staggering soldier who still hadn’t found his balance and shoved him overboard. Then, in blur, Marshal whipped out his pistol.

  Three men walked toward him, faces calm and unmoving. More husks, Dawn realized. Marshal felled one with his pistol and his fingers immediately began to reload the wheel-lock. She noticed a tremor in his hand and remembered he had been nearly dead just a day ago. If he was healthy, he’d take the ship by himself!

  The Lodi followed, swinging at a husk with a wrench longer than his arm, something he’d found below deck. The husk dodged with a quick step, and the Lodi swung again, this time knocking him to the ground.

  Dawn noticed the captain fumbling with a fat-barreled pistol. He loaded a thick round and looked around the deck, surveying the battle.

  “Dawn!” Marshal screamed as he grappled with a husk. “Dawn! The captain!”

  Dawn finally realized she was frozen. Her hands held the railing and wouldn’t budge. Her feet sunk into the metal floor.

  I’m just a scientist.

  She tried to release her grip, but nothing happened. Dawn looked up and noticed the captain slowly lifting his weapon over his head. That’s not a normal pistol. The wide barrel finally made sense; it was a flare gun. And that meant other ships were close enough to see the captain’s signal.

  Not today. The thought of being captured suddenly seized Dawn, and the fear of returning, being forced to work for them again, rattled Dawn from her stupor. Dawn saw herself leap over the railing. Her riding boots thumped loud onto the other deck and she realized she was chasing after the captain.

  The captain ran toward the ship’s prow and Dawn pounded after him. He hefted the flare gun in both hands, pointing it skyward as he neared the ship’s edge.

  Dawn’s cutlass made a hiss at it slid from its scabbard.

  Before the captain could fire, she slashed the curved blade across his back. A line of blood appeared on his uniform. He tumbled over the railing and fell toward the ground

  The gun fired on his way down.

  The flare sailed low across the desert, past soldiers who hurried out of its way, in a red streak toward the underside of the crashed sandship. Dawn followed its path, working out its trajectory.

  “It’ll hit the fuel line—” Her shout was cut short by a flash of light and a heatwave that rocked the sandship.

  Alongside them, Dawn’s hastily constructed sandship struggled to weather the blast. Broken machinery coughed as the ship descended, slowly, tossing pipes and scrap metal as it shuddered all the way down.

  Turning her attention back to the deck, she saw the Lodi boy and Marshal shoving the last husk overboard. Dawn went to the controls and sat down, checking the instruments. I barely helped them.

  Each dial showed a normal reading. Fuel pressure. Steam flow. Temperature. Everything where it should be.

  Marshal leaned against the panel, heavy with sweat. “You can fly this one?”

  “Better than the last one,” she said. Dawn kept her eyes down. “I’m...I’m sorry, Marshal—”

  “Don’t worry ‘bout it. You’re not used to this.” He fell in a heap by the controls. “I think I’m spent. Glad you two can get us out of here.”

  Dawn looked around, trying to plot a path away from the wrecked ships and crawling soldiers.

  “Something wrong?” asked Marshal.

  “I’m...trying to avoid running over any of them.”

  Dawn peeked at Marshal, expecting him to be upset at the delay, but instead his face spread in a smile. “Just so long as we keep moving.”

  Dawn noticed the Lodi boy nodding his head in strong agreement.

  “Sounds good.” Dawn looked at the Lodi. “Levers halfway.”

  He nodded and went to work.

  All three of them kept their heads down when shots began to ring out. “Hang on,” said Dawn, “we’ll pick up speed and get out of range real quick.” She looked at the Lodi. “All the way, now!”

  He thrust the levers forward and leaned down on them until they were nearly flat to the deck. The sandship responded with a smooth efficiency Dawn could feel under her feet. The clockwork precision of this proper sandship made her grin as they cruised away from the fight.

  “Keep it hot.” Dawn watched the controls. “We’ll burn too much fuel, but once we’re out of range—”

  A pop and then a hisssss interrupted Dawn. The dials crept backward, and the ship slowed.

  “What?” Marshal looked around. “Did they hit our engines?”

  “Nothing hit us—keep the levers down!” She punched
the control panel. “The steam lines must be leaking.”

  “It was fine a moment ago—”

  “Pipe must have gotten cracked in the explosion and broke when I flooded the lines! I’m so stupid!”

  “Stop that! We’re ‘bout out of rifle range already, then we’ll keep moving, even if we’re slow…we’ll keep…”

  All three of them noticed it. Behind them, near the horizon in the west, a red streak rose from the ground. Another flare. Another sandship.

  “Almighty,” whispered Marshal.

  20

  The sputtering engines sailed them well beyond the battle. The rapport of rifle shots was long gone by the time their stolen sandship finally ran out of fuel. It fell to the sand and slid, leaving a long trench in its wake.

  There was nothing. As far as they could see it was only sand, flat and dull.

  “Time to start walking,” said Marshal, emerging from the hold with supply sacks. “I found all the water skins and dried meat they had.”

  “Walk?” It was difficult to believe she could do nothing to make the sandship run again. She shook her head and stood, taking a bag from Marshal.

  “They’re still coming,” he said. “We saw the second flare only half an hour ago. The sand will hide our tracks, so if we start now we can disappear into the desert.”

  Dawn slung a water bag over her shoulder. They divided the gear between them and hopped down onto the sand.

  “Don’t walk too fast,” said Marshal, scanning the horizon. “We’ll get tired quick if we hurry. Just walk casual and we’ll get somewhere before you know it.”

  The prisoner, she noticed, wasn’t upset. He stepped down, pointed himself northeast, and started walking.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  He stared back.

  “I’m serious. You look like you know where you’re going.”

  His mouth didn’t move at all, but the irises of his eyes stared back with an answer he wasn’t sharing.

  “You look like someone who’s been caught stealing eggs,” said Marshal. “What are you up to?”

  The prisoner turned and pointed.

  “Something out there?” Dawn asked.

  Like before, he opened his mouth and she heard something akin to a gasp, like he wanted to speak but his tongue wouldn’t cooperate. Finally, he just nodded.

  “You got that spyglass you found on board?” asked Marshal.

  “Yeah.” Dawn took the brass cylinder from her satchel. She pulled it open and peered through the eyepiece in the direction the Lodi had been looking. “Nothing.”

  “Let me see,” said Marshal.

  She handed it to him, remembering his eyes, though almost thirty years older, were sharper than hers had ever been.

  “A...rock?” He looked at the prisoner. “You know the desert pretty well.” He handed the telescope back to Dawn. “Can’t tell much, but it looks like a big stone. Nothing special, but the Lodi have some secret places.”

  The prisoner began walking.

  Can’t stay here, I guess.

  Dawn and Marshal gave each other a shrug and followed him.

  While they walked, Marshal reached into a bag and found a leather-bound journal.

  “What’s that?” asked Dawn.

  “Captain’s log.” Marshal squinted at the pages. “Found it on deck. That captain wrote a lot down, but his handwriting is terrible. Can’t make out much.”

  They took rests when Marshal told them to and drank water on a schedule. Marshal spent every spare second glowering at the horrible handwriting in the captain’s log, and with every step the distant boulder came closer.

  When the suns showed it was well past noon, they were close enough to get a good look at the towering rock. It was wide at the bottom, as tall as three people, and it tapered as it rose, almost like a temple.

  “That’s it? There’s nothing there,” said Dawn. She’d expected a settlement, or maybe a well.

  The prisoner nodded, like he wasn’t surprised.

  “Maybe it’s a marker,” said Marshal. “Just one landmark on the way to another.”

  “We don’t need a landmark. We need someplace to go.”

  “I’m all ears if you’ve got another heading.”

  She grumbled and adjusted her pack. It had been digging into her shoulder. “We’re going to die out here.”

  ◆◆◆

  Soon after, a sandship showed up behind them, and they had to walk faster.

  First, they noticed the disruption behind them, far away. Then the sheen of the metal became clear. And when the afternoon light bled orange across the sky, Dawn could easily hear the thrumming engines of a Republic sandship.

  “Faster!” Marshal huffed and ran ahead of them. “We can reach it.”

  “Then what?” Dawn screamed.

  He didn’t respond, but all of them sped up their walk.

  A few shots rang out and they all started to run.

  “Drop the bags,” said Marshal.

  The water skins and bags of food all fell to the sand and they ran faster without the weight. Dawn could feel her chest burning and her legs shaking, but she could also hear men on the approaching ship shouting and shooting.

  Better to die out here than live under their boots. I’ll take it.

  They reached the rock and ran around behind it. Dawn had still harbored some hope that it would be hiding something useful. A secret door, or maybe a waiting horse or two. Anything that would help.

  But around the other side she saw only more sand. Marshal let his shoulders slump for a moment, and Dawn realized he had been hoping, too.

  That’s what we get for believing in something.

  The ship’s engines roared.

  “Wait...” said Marshal, between heavy breaths. “Wait…”

  The ship was close. She could hear it slowing down to make its way around.

  “Now, run!” Marshal ran around to the other side.

  Dawn and the prisoner followed. Gunshots hit the rocks just behind them.

  The sandship sailed past the stone on the other side. Dawn peeked out and saw it slowly turning around to make another pass.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  “Just keep moving.” Marshal checked his gun. “They won’t take us easy.”

  After making it slow about-face, the ship roared back and Marshal led them around the rock again, just ahead of the bullets.

  He knows we can’t keep doing this. It had been stupid. Stupid to think she could just leave. Stupid to dream about finding the Corsairs. Stupid to think she could do anything.

  Dawn leaned her back against the rock. “I don’t want to run anymore. I don’t...don’t care what happens.”

  “Now, you listen to me.” Marshal got closer. “Took a lot of courage to do what you did. You’ve helped people even if you don’t realize it, because every move against the Sovereign is part of the fight. Now, I won’t hug you, because I can tell you don’t like that, but, like I said before, if you were one of my daughters I’d be right proud of you.” He nodded, and he almost managed to smile. “Right proud.”

  She felt something on her face, under her eye, and realized what it was. “Marshal...it’s too late. We can’t keep running like this.”

  “No choice.” He got ready to move again.

  “There’s always a choice...what are you doing?”

  The prisoner had opened her satchel. He threw out the spyglass and rummaged around. He grabbed three vials and opened them up.

  “Do you even know what those do?” she cried.

  “Let him do what he wants. They’re making another pass.”

  The prisoner poured the ingredients into his hand and clenched them into his fist.

  I know those powders. She couldn’t tell what he had taken, at first, but now she recognized them: they were the ingredients used to mix sandship fuel.

  The prisoner reached into his robe and fumbled for something. Before Dawn could see what he held, the boy scrambled up
the rock. He reached the apex and steadied himself, rising slowly until he stood tall, still clenching the ingredients in his fist. He narrowed his eyes at the oncoming sandship.

  Dawn watched him hold out a stone. A stone with a round symbol and a series of numbers etched onto it.

  “Is that...” Marshal raised his hand to shield the sun.

  Dawn and Marshal backed away. Beyond the boulder, the Republic sandship wheeled and faced them, picking up speed. The Lodi boy’s yellow robes settled around him while he raised both hands, one hefting the Dae stone and the other clenching what he’d taken from Dawn’s satchel.

  A new wind blew.

  The sand in front of the rock lifted and rose in a swirling cloud. Dawn drew away, thinking it was a sandstorm, but nothing blew in her direction. The air around her and Marshal waited perfectly still.

  The sand swirl upward, forming thick tendrils that reached away from them. The Lodi spread his arms and screamed and the desert floor erupted before him, rising thick from every corner. The sandstorm climbed as it grew, higher and wider, howling like a forgotten wind as it barreled toward the oncoming sandship.

  Sand pelted the hull, making shrieking sounds against the metal, sounds that were soon joined by the screams of soldiers who faced a death Dawn could not see on the other side of the dark wall of sand. The sandship pressed against the impossible storm, its silhouetted shape barely visible as new winds pushed it back.

  The curtain of sand grew so thick she could not see anything on the other side of it. Her ears were filled with the rage of the sudden storm while the sand at her feet remained still, undisturbed.

  When the prisoner lowered his arms, the sand fell. The desert floor settled, revealing a Republic ship that now lay in ruins. Blood, bone, and metal shards littered the ground in grisly cemetery stretching across a quiet desert.

  The prisoner turned to them.

  “My name is Raine,” he said. “And, as you can see, I am quite gifted.”

  21

  “Come on, Raine.” His sister, Seana, limped along at his side, tugging his sleeve. “They hit the stragglers.”

  “Let them.”