“Come on,” she called as she raced forward to a ladder that led from the mechanic’s spine to the bridge.
Most of the Miravallians picked themselves up as quickly as they could and followed her. Dag tossed his Dominion machine gun to Aria, who had lost hers in her fall, and pulled his hunting rifle from his back. Taking a knee, he brought the weapon up just as a gas-mask wearing Dommie popped up at the top of the ladder to target Kayleigh. Without aiming, he fired instinctively and sent a round through the gas mask’s face plate. He worked the action, found a new visible target and fired again and then again.
Under Dag’s cover fire, Kayleigh reached the top of the ladder and started firing, charging across the dreadnought’s much larger bridge and then taking cover behind observation columns. Logan and Kryski joined her a moment later, followed by the rest of the militia, and Aria and Markov bringing up the rear. Once they were all up on the bridge, Dag raced over to the ladder, shouldered his rifle and began the climb up. He was nearly thrown from the rungs as the dreadnought fired another salvo in an effort to free itself from the Intrepid.
Atop the bridge, the force of the cannon’s concussion had knocked everyone off balance for a moment and allowed for the fight to quickly descend into hand-to-hand combat. As Dag reached the bridge, he saw that the militia had shot several of the Dommies, but had lost two of their own, including Sergeant Kryski. Logan had lost his weapon, but had knocked one out of the hands of his opponent and now had him in a headlock. Markov was boxing a Dommie Skyfleet officer who was already looking punch-drunk, and Kayleigh was trying to avoid being stabbed by a crazed looking Dommie wielding a combat knife. He knocked her to the ground, giving the Dag the opportunity to shoot him in the chest. Looking for another target amidst the melee, he saw another man emerge from the hatch leading into the ship. He wore a colonel’s uniform with a nameplate that said Apeniv and held a silver pistol in his hand.
With a look of indifference, he aimed it at Logan and the man he was wrestling and fired. Logan fell backward, a wound to his right shoulder, as the Dommie he had been fighting fell to the deck with a hole in his head. Stepping forward, the colonel leveled the weapon at Logan’s chest.
Dag took off at a sprint, screaming, “No!” and drawing a bead on the officer. The colonel stepped back and ducked in a single fluid motion, forcing Dag’s shot to miss high. Apeniv aimed the weapon toward the onrushing Dag, who dove under the shot, somersaulted, and threw himself into the colonel. Apeniv held his ground well and shoved back against Dag, knocking them both over the bridge’s guardrail and sending them plummeting to the wings below.
41
Colonel Apeniv pulled himself to his feet carefully, taking a moment to touch a gloved hand to his bleeding head. He felt unsteady on his feet and the rhythmic and pounding noise generated by the turbines nearby were not helping the dizziness he was feeling. Desperate for fresh air, he ripped the gas mask from his face and tossed it away, noticing for the first time that he was no longer holding his pistol.
Fifty feet away from him on the wing was the Miravallian rat that had dared to attack him, and he was working the bolt action on a peasant’s rifle that he aimed at Apeniv. The spent shell casing fell to the wing and Apeniv felt a sudden sick humor in being beaten by these primitive people. A dark smile crossed his face as the rat pulled the trigger.
Click.
Smiling further, Apeniv pulled a saber with a gold and gem encrusted hilt from its scabbard on his belt as the Miravallian went for his pistol. He charged across the space in between them as the Intrepid smashed once more into the Godsfury. Apeniv managed to keep his balance, but the Miravallian fell over, losing his sidearm in the process. It slid down the wing with the rat diving after it, but Apeniv got there first and kicked it off the edge.
Pointing his blade at the prone militiaman, Apeniv glared down at him with a look of smug condescension. “A worthy effort,” he said. “Of a rat,” he added as he lifted his sword and drove it down toward Dag.
42
Dag rolled out of the way as the blade slashed down on the wing’s steel, sparking where it hit. He grabbed his rifle by the barrel and swung it like a rounders club, striking Apeniv in the knee. The colonel grimaced in pain, but did not cry out as Dag rolled away and pulled himself to his feet. He brought his rifle up into a defensive position, holding it with two hands, hoping that he could parry any attack from the colonel.
Apeniv hesitated though and chuckled sinisterly to himself. “Are you the leader of this rabble you call an army?” he asked. “The man who destroyed and commandeered all the airships that I designed and had built?”
“I’m just a hunter from the Crest,” Dag replied.
Laughing, Apeniv lashed out with the blade, flashing three strikes in rapid succession, but Dag blocked them all. “The Crest,” Apeniv said coolly. “A worthless piece of land in a remarkably worthless country. Why is it so much trouble?”
He attacked again, this time luring Dag into an attempted counter that left him with a long thin cut running down his left arm. Apeniv’s body whirled, the saber whistling through the air, forcing Dag back toward the front of the wing as he blocked each attempt, wielding the hunting rifle as if it were a sword now. A few more steps and he would be forced off the wing. Trying to force his way free, he launched an attack that Apeniv easily countered, knocking the rifle from his hands and giving him a slash running down his leg.
Dag fell face first into the mechanic’s spine’s handrail before collapsing at the edge of the wing, exactly where the Miravallians had come aboard. Dag felt something hard under his stomach and realizing what it was, drew his hunting knife, which drew derisive laughter from Apeniv.
“A pig-sticker?” Apeniv demanded, as he stepped forward, his boots stopping exactly where Dag had wanted them to.
As Apeniv reared back to strike, Dag, while still on his belly and working on the hunting knife, said, “I never answered your question.”
“Oh?” Apeniv queried, a bemused look on his face.
Dag looked around to him as he drew himself to his feet. “The Crest- why it’s so much trouble,” he said.
“And why is that?” Apeniv said, purely humoring him.
“It’s home,” Dag said as he hurled his knife through the air.
Apeniv was prepared for such an attack, his sword ready to swat the blade out of the air, but it came nowhere near hitting him. It flew out over the wing, bounced twice, and was sucked into the turbine, along with the gray tensile cable it was tied to. The cable went taut as it was whipped through the turbine, and Apeniv had just enough time to see the coils of cable encircled around his feet before he was yanked forward by his foot. His sword went clattering out of his hands as he was pulled toward the turbine.
The cable caught just before Apeniv was pulled in, and there was a sickening pop as his leg broke. The colonel’s head was inches away from the turbine cavity, the knot Markov had tied being the only thing keeping him from being pulled in. That and the structural integrity of the railing, Dag corrected, as he saw the metallic frame bending under the suction power of the turbine while picking up Apeniv’s sword and his spent hunting rifle.
“Please,” the colonel screamed over the furious sound of the revolving engine. “I’ll surrender.”
“I know you would,” Dag said as he stepped over to the railing where the knot was tied. “And if I were a military officer, I’d be obliged to accept. But I’m just a hunter from the Crest, a man defending his home, and you’re like a bear that’s eaten a man- just too dangerous to be allowed to live.”
Another protestation rose to Apeniv’s lips, but quickly died as Dag yanked on Markov’s knot, and the colonel and the rest of the wire shot into the turbine. “Not bad for a rat,” he said to himself as he climbed up onto the mechanic’s spine and then up the ladder to the bridge.
“Dag!” Aria said, her voice a raw mixture of excitement and concern.
She raced forward to help pull him up the ladder. Kowolski
and Goretski, two grizzled looking veterans of the Craven Bluffs militia, quickly joined her. Seeing that he was wounded, they pulled him over to the center of the bridge where Logan was lying down with Kayleigh looking him over.
“What’s our status?” Dag demanded as Aria pulled out a first aid kit and began applying bandages to his injuries.
“After we took the bridge, a few of them tried to retreat into the conn,” Goretski said.
“We convinced them that was a poor decision,” Kowolski added.
“We commandeered some gas masks from the men we killed out here,” Goretski continued.
“Young Private Ambrose there figured if they were wearing them inside maybe we should be too,” Kowolski said. “Markov’s in there now, trying to figure out how to shake this ship free.”
Before Dag could ask another question, the bridge wobbled slightly and then there was a horrible sound of metal wrenching away from metal. Despite his injuries, he pulled himself to his feet and made his way over to the bridge’s railing to watch as the Intrepid broke away from the Godsfury and began spiraling down to the waters below.
“She was a good ship,” he said to no one in particular.
“Aye, she was,” Markov agreed as the wreck crashed into the water far below them. “But I think we’ll make this new one work just as well.”
Dag had not even heard the engineer emerge from the conn. “You’re telling me that we control the ship?” he demanded incredulously.
“Aye,” Markov answered. “According to the log, when we hit them the first time, it caused a fire which superheated their aura diesel reserve. Most of the ship got aura gas poisoning. Those that didn’t made their final stand out here.”
“What happened to the bastard that shot me?” Logan demanded.
Turning back to the constable, Dag shrugged and said, “I might have tossed him through turbine three.”
Logan laughed and simply said, “Well done.”
As Dag limped back to the center of the bridge where Logan lay, supported by Aria, Markov said, “I’d like to set us down in the lake if that’s all right, sir. We are running low on aura diesel and we could stand to make some repairs. All systems show the lower hull is structurally sound enough for a water landing.”
“Do what you have to do,” Dag said. “Home will be there waiting for us.”
43
The sun was setting over the distant cliffs and mountains of the Crest, and Dag was taking a moment to marvel at the beauty of it from the bridge of the Godsfury. It was a strange name for a ship when everything seemed so tranquil on the gentle waves of the Averillian Sea. That tranquility was a lie, of course.
To their southwest was occupied Miraval with thousands of Dominion regulars, tanks, and wooden hulled airships that threatened to swarm over the entire country. Across the sea to the east were the lands of the Dominion itself, a political entity that stretched as far as most Miravallian maps showed. When the entirety of the Dominion was shown on maps, such as one that Dag had found in the Godsfury’s conn, Miraval was a tiny dot relative to that enormity. And yet, Dag had to remind himself, they had beaten the Dommies- twice.
While Markov had gotten the airship down to the water so that he could make repairs and get them back to the Crest without expending the remains of their aura diesel, Dag had gotten on the radio to Alex. The militia had turned back the Dominion at Rainer Ravine and they were pushing on to take the garrison at Craven Bluffs. The two surviving militiamen from the mining town were ecstatic to hear it. Dag only wished Kryski had lived to see his town free- actually, he wished that all the people who died under his command had lived a lot longer than they did.
“Everything all right?” Aria’s voice called from behind him. When he did not answer immediately, she joined him at the railing and said, “We finished the sweep of the entire ship. It was like Markov said- they’re all poisoned or they all died when we took the ship.” He barely nodded and she chucked him on the shoulder, thankfully the one that had not been sliced up by a sword.
“What was that for?” he demanded as he turned to her.
“Subtlety isn’t one of my strong points,” she replied.
“Gods, Aria,” he said. “I was… just taking inventory.”
“Of what?” she asked.
“All the people we lost,” he said. “There were thirty people in my squad when we left Craven Bluffs. Now, we’re seven.”
“And you saved the lives of every militiaman in the Crest, not to mention your brother, my father, and who knows how many more that would have been killed if the Dominion made it to our doorsteps,” she pointed out.
“I keep telling myself that,” he said. “Doesn’t make it any easier- but, of course, it shouldn’t. The day killing people becomes easy, whether it’s ordering men to their deaths or killing the enemy, that’s the day we become the Dominion.”
“You’re nothing like them,” she argued.
“I murdered that Dommie colonel,” he said with a deep exhale. “He offered to surrender, and I sent him into a turbine. The part that’s getting me about that right now,” he added, turning to face her as he did so. “Is that it doesn’t bother me. This Colonel Apeniv admitted to me that he designed these airships, these new steel ones, and that he got them built, and I just saw someone we couldn’t allow to live. His death might mean that thousands of Miravallians survive, and I’m okay with that. I just don’t know if I should be.”
“Whose opinion are you going to trust more than your own?” she asked.
“Yours,” he replied without a moment’s hesitation.
Aria appeared taken aback by that answer and bit her lower lip in thought for a moment. “I don’t know if you did the right thing,” she said at last. “But I would have done the same.”
“Truly?”
“Truly,” she agreed. Nodding her head back to the hatch, Aria added, “Come on, Goretski found some more rum while we were clearing the ship. I think we can say a few toasts to the fallen and say a few grateful prayers for our lives. Most importantly, we should remind ourselves that what we have to do to keep the people we love safe is always justified.”
“Not sure how a drink is going to do that,” Dag said as he let her intertwine her fingers with his and lead him to the conn entrance.
“I’ll show you,” she said, a sly, flirty grin on her face.
An Earnest Plea for Your Help
Hello, good reader.
First of all, a heartfelt thank you for making it to the end- I hope you enjoyed the journey.
Secondly, I am in need of your help. You have already come this far- what’s a little farther, my friend?
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About the Author
Justin Bohardt became a writer because he realized early in life that creating alternative realities was infinitely preferably than living in the existing one. A former reporter, he moonlights as an auditor for a Fortune 100 insurance company while crafting new worlds in every second of free time that he can find.
His fiction has appeared in magazines such as Hungur, Outposts of the Beyond, Potter’s Field, The Drabbler, and Micro 100; while his poetry has been featured in Scifaikuest, Aoife’s Kiss, The Martian Wave, and Champagne Shivers. Bohardt also contributes to the occasional trade publication and teaches the occasional class. He resides in Iowa with his family.
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Also by the Author
Saboteur
Book 3 of the Invasion of Miraval
Coming Soon!
Winter has fallen in the Crest and across Miraval, and everywhere the war has reached a seeming stalemate. The Dominion invaders have refused to advance further into Miraval with a strongly outfitted militia force to their rear, and have settled into a tactic of trying to starve out the Miravallian holdouts in the Crest.
Knowing that they will not survive the winter without help, Raslan “Dag” Dagenham agrees to take his commandeered airship, the Godsfury, from the Crest to the capital of Alethia. The Miravallian capital is not in much better shape, but the promise of an ally and a new source of weapons and supplies in the powerful Barony Confederation has presented itself. It merely requires the destruction of the Citadel, an impregnable fortress buried deep in the mountains of a Dominion puppet state, the Elysing Alliance. The massive artillery of the Citadel has the capability of reaching Barony cities and the Confederation will not commit to helping Miraval with that threat still in place.
With no other way to save the people of the Crest, Dag agrees to lead an infiltration force into enemy territory, all while dealing with sabotage attempts from within his own ranks and Dominion irregulars that seemed determined to assassinate the brothers Dagenham.
Parliament of the Profane I: Summum Omnium Bonus
As the history books teach us...
1945. A trio of superheroes known as the Triumvirate have revealed themselves to the world. These people with powers only previously heard of in comic books- the ability to fly, superhuman strength and speed, and mastery of the elements- helped the United States to win World War II. With the blessing of the U.S. government and financially backed by the military-industrial giant CPI Corporation, the Triumvirate became fighters of crime and communism in equal parts while championing American values.
Guerrilla (The Invasion of Miraval Book 2) Page 19
