Brotherhood of the Strange (Kingship, Tales from the Aether Book 1)

by Michael Richie

  “Well, lad,” came Winston’s voice, “What do we do, run or fight?”

  “If we run, we could end up playing cat and mouse with these lowlifes for days and our business in Germany can’t wait.”

  “I was hopin’ you’d say that, lad!” Winston observed with a fierce Scottish grin. He deftly manipulated the various valves and complex controls readying the Kingship for whatever may come their way.

  “First Burd, then you, and of course Wingnut’s always spoiling for a good tussle. Is everyone on board excited for a fight?”

  His tone was obviously sarcastic, but did not stop Afa from saying quite seriously, “I do not wish for a fight, nor to injure anyone unless we have no other options.”

  Vance looked up at his massive friend, removing his command goggles to look him in the eye. Afa was more than willing to fight when necessary, and was quite good at it too, though the gentle giant preferred to find amicable solutions. “Neither do I, my friend,” he said seriously. “By the looks of things I don’t think anyone needs to get too badly hurt.”

  “Are ya daft, man?” Winston exclaimed. “These are pirates. They’re not exactly known for their gentle dispositions now, are they? Shall we buy em’ a drink and hope they let us pass?”

  “Well not quite, though I do see several tactical advantages I think we can exploit,” the captain replied, stroking his weeks’ worth of beard. “Look at that ship, Winston. She’s well armed, but all of her guns are on the lateral, broadside style. Without levitite, she’ll gain height well by ditching ballast but she’s much slower on the descent. I doubt they can outmaneuver the Kingship.”

  “No doubt sir, but this smells of a trap to me, lad.”

  “I have to agree, Fekitoa,” suggested Afa. “As much as I wish it were otherwise, we could be in danger. Should I fetch your sidearm?”

  After a pause he replied calmly, “No, I won’t be needing it. However, increase speed Winston. I don’t want it getting too far from that upland.”

  “Aye lad.”

  “No sidearm? Suit yourself!” Burd had appeared on the bridge. He was decked out in heavy, worn leather from head to toe, the garb of a rocket trooper. An Ingram model seventeen rocket-pack, “Jessica” was strapped securely to his back. A set of bound hoses and cable dangled from the pack that led to a control glove which he had not yet put on. He was pulling several pistols from the weapons locker, placing them into various holsters he had added to the suit over the years.

  “Taking enough guns there, Burd?” Vance asked his friend.

  “You know me, always overdressing for the occasion,” he replied sardonically though Vance knew Burd’s experiences from a very young age had taught him firearms were a universally understood language. Seldom had he seen the short, slight man unarmed and even now, removed from the military, the slightest hint of danger found his hand going instinctively to whatever weapon he happened to have on his person. “What’s the plan sir?”

  “That zeppelin looks as if it wants to do us ill,” Vance explained. “Despite that, I’d like to avoid any bloodshed and I don’t think it’ll be too hard. Get up on deck and ready the aft cable. When we give the signal, fly up and attach it to their rudder. The Kingship is pretty heavy. We’ll drop down and drag them under that small upland hopefully tearing some holes in their gas bags. Just enough to make them go down softly. Thoughts, gentlemen?”

  “Well I’d rather give em a good lickin’,” replied Winston. “Though without any guns left on the old girl I don’t see how we’d do it. Say the word, lad, and those bastards will see what the Kingship can do!” With that exclamation he spat on his palms and grabbed at various controls, waiting to outmaneuver their would-be attacker.

  “I think it’s a good plan, Fekitoa,” Afa agreed. “One that has the least possibility of killing.”

  “Thank you. Would you be so kind as to assist Wingnut in the engine room in case things get dicy?”

  Afa let out a sigh. He was not overly comfortable in small spaces but wordlessly nodded and left the bridge.

  “You know he hates that, sir,” Burd observed.

  “I know, but he’s getting a lot better about it. What are your thoughts on the plan?’

  Burd nodded, “It’s a good one. I wouldn't use a ship like that for an attack though, no matter how well armed it was. There may be others hidden out there.”

  “My thoughts exactly, lad,” said Winston.

  “There may indeed, and we will have to deal with that if it proves to be true,” the captain replied.

  “Alright, but it’s these little uncertainties in life that make me glad for all of these,” explained Burd padding all of the weapons he had adorned himself with. “Anyway, plan’s good. That ship looks to be American built, which probably means helium instead of hydrogen. I think I should use the bow cable instead, though. I’m afraid if we use the aft one the angle at which we drag that thing down might get the cable caught in our propellers.”

  Vance considered the suggestion, “Agreed, the bow cable it is.”

  Burd pulled on the glove that had the controls for Jessica. Checking to make sure both temperature and pressure were correct, he then pulled down his tinted goggles, opened the side door just aft of the bridge, saluted, and jumped out of the Kingship with a backflip and a laugh.

  “Don’t think I’ll ever figure that boy out,” Winston said shaking his head.

  “I wouldn’t worry, he’s still figuring himself out,” Vance chuckled, closing the door behind him.

  While the plan was discussed, the Kingship had closed much of the distance between itself and the lumbering zeppelin. It already had begun to turn so its cannons were pointing in the direction of the Kingship. Most of those variously designed weapons were pointing slightly skyward. Vance guessed that their foes would anticipate the Kingship would try to gain altitude and go over their zeppelin. A panic induced tactic that most scared people in his position would follow. However, Vance was not scared. Though always concerned for his crew and vessel, he had gone through far worse on what could be considered a good day in the past. He watched, again through his command goggles, as the other ship drew nearer. The magnification allowed him to identify the guns which were obviously stolen or bought on the black market. They would be in range in about thirty seconds or so. The fact they had not fired indiscriminately while they were still out of range told Vance there was some level of order and experience onboard the zeppelin, lending credence to the theory that this was indeed a trap. Without additional information however, Vance could only proceed on what he knew.

  Vance again removed his goggles. “Ready, Winston?”

  “Aye, lad.”

  “And,” he paused, “Now!”

  Winston steered the ship into a quick decent, using the rear steam valves for an extra boost of speed. The zeppelin began firing but the Kingship had already begun to pass under it, and the pirates’ guns were unable to readjust in time to pose any immediate danger. As they passed under the lighter-than-air vessel, Vance rang the alarm bell with one long sounding. In response, the telltale whoosh of Burd’s rocket pack was heard, along with the unwinding of the tow cable’s winch. Seconds later, the Kingship pitched and slowed, evidence that Burd’s cable had been successfully attached. Winston then increased steam to the propellers and opened the valves giving them an increase in power. The ship strained against pulling a vessel three times its size. Winston responded by adjusting the levitite drive to decrease the Kingship’s altitude while simultaneously increasing its relative weight. The plan proved successful and they passed beneath the rocky upland with the protesting zeppelin in tow. Plasmatic weapons fire could be heard from above, lighting the bridge with streaks of orange energy as it crackled past.

  “That was a wee bit close for comfort,” Winston stated calmly. He also had seen far too much action to be rattled by situations such as this.

  Vance looked out the bulging floor to ceiling windows that made up the br
idge. He could barely see the zeppelin above. “They’re desperate, it’s panic fire,” he told the old Scot. “They have no way of getting a firing solution on us. Not at that angle.”

  The top of the zeppelin began to scrape along the jagged underside of the upland. Sounds of tearing metal and fabric could be heard. Almost immediately, it began to lose altitude and roll slightly to starboard. She was going down, but not so rapidly the crew of pirates shouldn’t be able to arrest their decent.

  Vance states, “I better get up and cut the line so it doesn’t drag us down too.”

  Winston’s reply was to cut power to the propellers, and turn the vessel with the steam thrusters so that the cut rope would not get caught in their own propellers as Burd feared. Vance climbed the access ladder to the open deck above to cut the thick, heavy rope free with the knife he always carried on his belt, a gift from Wingnut several years back. As he drew it from its celtic engraved mahogany sheath, he heard the sizzle of a small plasmatic pistol and the rope fell slack, smoking where it had been severed by Burd’s pistol shot.

  “Nice shooting,” Vance observed as the rocket-pack clad man came to an artful landing on the deck beside him.

  “Eh, saved more of the rope that way than cutting it right here at the base,” Burd replied activating the winch on the deck to pull the remainder of the rope back.

  Now drifting backwards, as the pirates’ airship slowly sank beneath the clouds before them, the Kingship emerged from under the upland. Looking skyward, Vance realized this was indeed, a trap all along.

  Chapter VI

  “Should've known it wouldn’t be so easy,” Vance muttered, already making his way back to the steep access ladder he had just climbed.

  “Orders, sir?” Burd asked, pistol still in hand.

  “Just hold tight,” came the reply as Vance’s head disappeared below deck.

  Winston was craning his neck to see the ships above. Two small Spanish built patrol aetherships though, like their American-made counterpart they were now in the service of pirates. The vessels were about three hundred feet above the Kingship and were barely moving.

  “Those boats look to be a bit more of a problem, Vance,” Winston stated. “We might be able to outrun ‘em, but not before they did some serious damage by the look of them sixteen inchers.”

  Burd’s voice echoed from above, “What’s the plan, Captain? They don’t seem to be in a rush to attack. I’d guess they’re arguing whether they should attack us, or help their fellows.”

  Vance nodded. Burd was probably right. “We wait.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Wait for what?” Winston inquired.

  “You know how when we play chess, I always play black?”

  “Aye, you always like to go second. But ya still always bloody win!”

  “Exactly. I want to see how they intend to play before we make our move.”

  Several tense seconds passed before that move was made. Deciding apparently that the extremely ornate and opulently designed Kingship took priority over helping the rest of their men in the crippled zeppelin, both vessels fired grappling hooks which found purchase on the port and starboard sides of the steel railing that ran around the upper deck of the Kingship’s main body. Winches began to slowly reel their prey in. Vance laughed a little. He had suspected these people were not experienced. Sure they had set a trap, however it was one that had revealed only the most rudimentary of tactics which had severely damaged one of their own vessels. It took only a second for Vance to size up his opponents, now that he had sufficient information.

  “This game isn’t even worth playing,” he told his pilot. Turning, he grabbed the speaking tube that ran to the engine room and got Wingnut to respond. “Get ready for a full decent with the compression drive.”

  “Are ya bloody daft?” came the predictable, though not unjustified reply. “Ya know how hard that’ll jam up the screws? Not ta mention the master gear?”

  Vance’s reply was calm, but firm, “Molly, we have about thirty seconds before this ship is boarded by a hell of a lot of pirates. I need you to disengage those clutches on my mark. Afa can help you unjam them.”

  “Alright, we’ll be ready. But if we crash and die Heaven’ll have ya ta blame and Hell’ll be yer home!”

  Burd had stuck his head down the hatch from above, hearing the whole conversation. Nodding, he went back up on deck. Vance nodded in reply. Burd already knew his plan. Of course he would, Vance thought to himself. The small, wiry man had been on more sabotage missions than anyone who had ever been under his command, and had the medals to show for it.

  “Ya sure about this, lad?” asked Winston.

  “We’ll soon know,” Vance replied. “Okay Wingnut, release the clutches! Winston, drop us.”

  It only took about two seconds for the Kingship to begin to drop. The large iron screws holding the levitite crystals throughout the engineering deck of the ship rapidly forced themselves towards their counterpart crystals with a deafening whir which negated most of their buoyancy, a strange phenomena which the best of the Natural Philosophers of the world were still at a loss to explain. It took a lot of steam from the boilers to force the opposing levitite together. This had a tendency to “gum up the works” as Wingnut put it. As the now tremendously heavy Kingship began to plummet, the tow cables snapped taught dragging the two pirate vessels rapidly towards each other. They collided with a thunderous crunch and showered the kingship with small bits of debris. In the collision, some of their outboard steel levitite vapor tanks, another form of heavier than air suspension, ruptured, sending iridescent purple gas heavenward. Like the zeppelin, the vessels were merely crippled. Most likely there would be no casualties. Cables that did not tear free of their own accord, were cut by Burd’s fancy pistol work. However, the danger was not yet past. While, the levitite retained a small measure of its gravity negating properties no matter how closely they were forced together, the aethership and her crew were still descending rapidly enough to ensure the Kingship would be utterly destroyed upon impact.

  Winston gripped the controls, “This could be close.”

  The vessel was shaking violently. Though the ground could not be seen yet, the layer of clouds beneath them was looming nearer by the second. Gripping a handrail, Vance double-checked the altimeter on the control panel with his oversized pocket watch, also equipped with an altimeter. He figured they had about a minute before the earth found them.

  “Any time now, Wingnut!” Vance called through the speaking tube. The response, though not directed exactly into the other end, was loud enough and full of expletives to satisfy Vance that all was being done that could be done.

  The Kingship began to pass through the low altitude cloud bank. The white fluffy ocean gave way to a depressing gray texture of rainclouds racing upwards as Wingnut and Afa’s efforts finally began to arrest what could have been their own premature demise. Creaks and groans sounded all around until at last the vessel regained its seeming weightlessness in the aether. They were beneath the clouds now and a steady rain was falling, a stark difference to the sun-filled sky they had just left behind.

  Smiling and clapping his pilot on the shoulder Vance was chuckling, “They don’t get much closer than that, do they?”

  Also smiling but carrying an air of experienced wisdom, Winston replied, “Actually lad, on this ship, they often did.”

  Burd re-entered the bridge from the side exit he originally took. His leather flight suit was dripping with water and his hair was matted. The grin on his boyish face showed the grand time he had on this little adventure. “I didn’t think there was much pirate activity in this section of Belgium,” he mused. “Glad I was wrong,” he added, taxed for air, but still smiling.

  Vance agreed. This was a fairly civilized area of the uplands, though he admitted that was a relative term in and of itself. “We should probably report this,” he suggested. Who’s the Belgium Fleet Admiral? Desmaris?”

&nb
sp; “No I think it’s LeRoux,” came Burd’s reply.

  “That’s right. That old coot still owes me a bottle of wine. Okay, get on the radiograph and tell him where he can find our new friends. Use my command code. It’s old but he’ll recognize it. Winston, point us back towards Germany, with the best steam Wingnut can muster.”

  The phone began to ring, the light on the panel indicating it was the engine room. Vance sighed, “I guess I’d better get up there and let her berate me for breaking her engine.”

  “Better you than me, lad,” said Winston.

  Turning to leave the bridge, Vance paused and added to his old friend, “Oh, Burd? Remind LeRoux about the wine.”