by Piers Platt
“Falken!” Vina jumped up and hugged him.
“I’m back.” He patted her back, and then she pulled away, self-conscious.
“We were starting to worry,” Raynard said, shaking Falken’s hand.
Greban grinned, and pushed himself off the floor, wincing. “You know, everyone told me, way back when I first hired you, that you were the best guide on Olympus. Guess I was smart to hire the best.”
“If I’m the best, I think that means I deserve a raise,” Falken said.
“If the insurance doesn’t find a way to screw me out of making a claim for this mess, we can definitely talk,” Greban said.
Vina spied the jagged cut on Falken’s shoulder, where the smaller dragon had cut him with its claws. “You’re hurt.”
“It’ll wait. We’re on the clock – and there’s a rainstorm that might cover our movement for a while,” Falken said, turning serious again. He glanced up and down the hallway. “Wait, where are the brothers? Where’s Ed?”
Chapter 17
Greban frowned. “Shep and Kuda are in their cabin – I think they wanted to be alone for a bit, brother to brother, in case … well, in case things don’t work out.”
“Ed went to the bathroom about ten minutes ago,” Raynard added. “I don’t know why he’s not back.”
“Damn it,” Falken swore. “We need to get going. Vina, can you round up the brothers? Raynard, start helping Greban out to the truck. I’ll go find Ed.”
Falken ducked into Ed’s cabin first, but it appeared empty. He stepped back out into the hallway, and then noticed that the hatch to the engine room was open. He grabbed a flashlight from the hallway, then hurried down to the engine room door and stepped through. On the far side, he walked down a narrow corridor before passing through a second hatch into a wider room, filled with machinery bolted down to what had previously been the floor – their hulking shapes now hung ominously overhead. He played the flashlight over the silent machines, but the room was quiet and still.
Getting déjà vu, Falken thought. Creeping around in the dark on a crashed ship, just like on Oz. I half expect Weaver to appear from behind one of the engine banks, carrying a blue-ball he found in a tree.
Falken started as he heard a noise behind him. Ed, carrying his own flashlight, was climbing a narrow ladder from the hold below.
… from the aft storage locker. Where the explosion happened.
“What are you doing?” Falken demanded.
Ed, noticing Falken for the first time, jumped. “I – I was taking pictures.”
“What? Why?”
“So I have them,” Ed said, bristling. “Am I not allowed to take pictures anymore?”
Falken’s eyes narrowed, but he held his tongue. “I brought the truck. We’re ready to go.”
“Good,” Ed said. “I’m ready, too.”
* * *
Outside, Shep and Kuda were removing what remained of the proxies’ legs from the truck, stacking them to one side. Greban stood waiting, supported between Vina and Raynard. With Ed in tow, Falken stepped out of the airlock.
“Falken, what happened to the truck?” Greban asked. “Where’s the canopy?”
“I hit a boulder on the way back,” Falken said. “The truck flipped and it shattered.”
Beneath his mask, Greban raised an eyebrow, but stayed silent.
“Is it safe to ride to the research center like that?” Ed asked.
“Nope,” Falken said. “Do you want to walk instead?”
Ed shook his head.
The brothers finished clearing the truck, and stacked the last set of proxy legs on the ground. Falken spied the remaining three oxygen masks sitting on the hood of the truck. He slipped the backpack off his shoulders, checking his own tank gauge, and was surprised to find that it held only a few pounds of air.
“How’s everyone on oxygen?” he asked.
They bent over, checking the tanks clipped to their belts. “Red zone,” Greban said.
“Yeah, I’m almost out, too,” Vina agreed.
“What if we run out before we get to the research center?” Shep asked.
“We probably will,” Falken said. “We’re going to have to share the spares.”
“It’s called ‘buddy breathing,’ ” Raynard said. “We do it in scuba diving. You take a few breaths, then hold your breath, pass the bottle to your buddy. They breathe a couple times, then pass it back.”
“That’ll work,” Falken said. “All right, everybody in. And strap in tight, this could get rough.”
As they climbed in, Falken took his seat at the driver’s station, and activated the radio.
“Adrenaline Junkies, ORC, this is Falken,” he said. “We’re headed out.”
“We’re standing by,” Brondi said, from the research center.
“Roger,” Quiss said, a moment later. “Falken, be advised: sensors are tracking a large herd of fauns just south of Mount Olympus.”
By reflex, Falken tapped on the display screen at his station, calling up the map function, before remembering that all of the cameras and sensors it normally linked to were in the crashed ship sitting in front of him.
Now all it can do is show you the plain old map, dummy.
Falken shook his head. “Where are they headed?” he asked.
“East, toward you. I think they’re going to come between you and the research center, I’m afraid.”
“Understood,” Falken replied.
“What does that mean?” Ed asked, pausing in the midst of buckling his seatbelt.
“It means the dragons are going to be out,” Vina said. “They’re going to be hunting.”
“Yeah,” Falken agreed. He looked up at the sky. The darkest clouds had passed well to the north of them, and the area around the mountain ahead was already looking brighter, less gray. There goes our rain cover.
Falken twisted in the seat and said, “We’re going to do this right, because we’ve only got one shot at it. Okay?”
In the seats behind him, his passengers nodded, and he could see the fear in their eyes.
“We’re going to be as quiet as possible, for as long as possible, and get as close as we can to the research center. But they will hear us. They always do.”
“What do we do when they come?” Raynard asked.
“Haul ass and try to keep them off of us,” Falken said. “Call them out when you see them, so I can try to dodge them. We’ll just have to hope we can outrun them.”
“You’re sure the rescue ship won’t get here in time? We can’t just stay here and try to make our oxygen last?” Ed asked.
Before Falken could answer, Kuda gasped audibly, and everyone turned to look at him. He tried to suck in another breath, and then another, before pulling off his oxygen mask, shaking his head. Greban handed him a spare mask, and Kuda pulled it over his face and took a deep breath, nodding gratefully.
“Does that answer your question?” Falken asked.
“Wait!” Vina grabbed Falken’s shoulder. “The proxies.” She pointed to the ground, and the pile of half-eaten proxy parts. “We should bring some.”
Falken’s eyes lit up. “You’re right. Good call.” He pushed his door open and hopped down, grabbing the first pair of legs and tossing them over his shoulder with a grunt.
“Why?” Kuda asked.
“Because we can use them as bait,” Vina said. “Better if the dragons eat those and not us, right?”
“Oh,” Kuda said. “Right.”
Falken, laboring under the weight of the extra-heavy legs, stacked three pairs in the front seat next to him. Then he climbed back onto the truck, set his noise cancellation staff on the seat next to him, and buckled in.
“Here we go.”
The ground was still wet from the rain, and the hoverfans threw up a fine, misting spray as they drove away from the Ecolympus. Greban twisted in his seat to look at the ship one last time before it disappeared behind them, a forlorn look on his face.
Raynard patte
d him on the knee. “You’ll get her up in the air again, right?”
“No more talking,” Falken warned them.
Chagrined, Raynard mouthed: Sorry.
The truck sounded loud to Falken’s practiced ears – he reached over and checked to make sure the vehicle’s noise cancellation was active, and that the staff beside him was still on, too.
They’re on … but the truck’s system isn’t working quite right. That big female must have jacked it up somehow. And the staff isn’t enough to make up for it. We’re running loud.
He twisted the radio volume knob, turning it down all the way, just in case they received a call. Then he focused on driving. In the seats behind him, the rest of the group kept their eyes looking up, watching the sky for any sign of approaching dragons. After two minutes, Raynard coughed, choking, and pulled off his mask. He grabbed another of the spare kits, holding it to his face and breathing deeply for several seconds. He gave Greban a thumbs-up soon afterwards.
Just one mask left, Falken thought. Then we start buddy breathing.
Falken reached a fork in the road and slowed down. He pinched in on the map on the truck’s display, checking the route briefly.
Yeah, okay … decision time. Go straight at the mountain, or take the longer route down by the river.
He felt a tapping on his shoulder, and looked up. Vina leaned over his shoulder, silently pointing toward the mountain. Falken squinted, and saw a dark shape gliding out of the aerie. It was headed away from them, but the sight of it was enough to convince Falken.
River it is.
He swerved onto the road on the left, and then guided the truck down a trail that descended sharply past several sets of towering rock columns. Behind him, he heard Ed discard his mask, and pick up the final spare. Greban pulled his own mask off a moment later, and Raynard held out his mask, offering it to Greban.
… and we’re buddy breathing already. Fuck.
Falken took a moment to look down at his own tank, but the gauge was still showing a small amount of pressure left.
I took a fresh one before I left to go get the truck, so I should be the last one to run out. Let’s hope I can hang on until we get to the research center …
The gravel trail reached the river, and Falken turned left, following the course of the river, heading upstream toward the mountain. Next to them, white water rushed between the rocks and boulders, and the noise of the river was nearly enough to drown out the truck’s hoverfans.
Nearly. Let’s hope those fauns are making a big fucking racket over at the mountain.
Falken risked a little more speed, sweating as he threaded the narrow path along the rocky riverbank. The front bumper grazed a boulder at one point, jolting them harshly in their seats; Falken winced.
Careful! This thing’s already beat up enough – can’t take much more damage.
Out of the corner of his eye, Falken checked the truck’s diagnostic dashboard, scanning the various dials.
Fan speed looks good. Engine temps are okay. Power’s low. Falken frowned. The batteries haven’t been charged since yesterday, but we’ve barely put any miles on it. Better keep an eye on that.
The road opened up slightly, and Falken glanced over his shoulder, checking on his passengers. In the top row, Shep and Kuda were buddy breathing together now, while Greban and Raynard shared a mask in the middle row. Directly behind Falken, Vina had managed to nurse her bottle along – she was still wearing her original mask, though Ed looked ready to share his spare with her when needed. Vina’s hand, gripping the back of Falken’s seat, was sheet-white. Through her mask, Vina shot Falken a nervous smile. Then Ed waved urgently, and pointed up into the sky.
Falken looked up, and spotted a small dot in the distance, just barely visible against the mountain behind it. For a second, Falken thought the dragon was hovering in place, and then he realized that it was merely an illusion: the dragon was heading directly toward them. Then the dragon seemed to split apart.
Two of them.
No … three.
Chapter 18
Captain Muir found Talus in the Liberty Belle’s cafeteria, eating a half-peeled banana.
“Just a banana? Did you already eat breakfast back at Harrison’s?” she asked him, digging through one of the cabinets along the wall for a meal packet.
The pilot shook his head. “I’m not really hungry. Nervous, I guess.”
“Ah,” she said. “Right.” She slid the packet into a food preparation unit. Several seconds later it dinged at her and a bowl of steaming oatmeal emerged on a tray. Muir carried the tray over to Talus’ table and sat down across from him.
“Weird being in here at mealtime without any guests,” he said. “How long has it been since we made an Olympus run just the two of us?”
Muir poured cream and maple syrup over the oatmeal, thinking. “Good question. We made that emergency trip to bring medicine to one of the Adrenaline Junkies’ guests that time. Four or five years ago, maybe?”
“Oh, yeah,” Talus said. “She had that fungal infection in her lungs that went around the colonies; she was coughing spores all over her cabin. They had to quarantine off half the ship to treat her.”
“It was ugly,” Muir agreed. She checked her wristpad as she stirred her oatmeal.
Talus saw her checking the display, and cleared his throat. “ETA a little after noon, local time?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Muir agreed. “You want to talk about the plan when we get in?”
Talus nodded reluctantly. “I guess we better.”
“Okay. When we punch in, before we do anything else, I want to check in with Hylie. Knock on wood, Greban and Falken are alive down there, and Hylie’s managed to get in touch with them, so we know what we’re up against. Who’s hurt, who’s not, what state the ship is in, etc. But worst case, Hylie can at least give us the coordinates where the Ecolympus went down.”
“What if Hylie hasn’t been able to talk to them? We’re still going down to the surface?”
“We’re still going down to the surface,” Muir confirmed. “Could be their radios are busted, but they’re still alive. We need to see for ourselves.”
“Okay,” Talus said.
Muir took a bite of oatmeal, and swallowed. “If Hylie’s up for it – and I’d be surprised if she isn’t – I want to see if she and Quiss can give us a hand. Either directing their proxies on the ground, or we might even dock and have them transfer over to the Liberty Belle and come down to the surface with us. But either way, I’d like a few extra folks at the crash site. Four of us are going to be way more effective – and safe – than just two of us.”
“Makes sense. What’s the plan when we get on the ground?”
“The plan is to haul ass.” Muir’s eyes narrowed, and she stared into the distance. “Back before you started, when I was piloting for Sava, we made a surface rescue mission, she and I. This was back when the research center had a bigger staff, and they used to make excursions every once in a while outside.”
“Outside? Not using proxies?”
“No, in their real, actual bodies,” Muir confirmed.
“Were they insane?” Talus asked.
“They were warned, but they didn’t listen. And two of them got cornered in a cave a few hundred yards from the research center, with a half dozen dragons waiting for them to come out.”
“You guys had to land to get them out?”
“We did,” Muir said. “And we learned some things the hard way. The most important thing is to get in and out as fast as possible. Every minute we’re on the ground our risk goes up exponentially.”
“What happened?” Talus asked.
“We landed, and scared the dragons off with the ship’s siren – sound is about the only weapon that’s even mildly effective on them, aside from cannon shells. And then we tried to coax the two researchers out of their hole. But one of them was basically in shock, and refused to come out. He wouldn’t believe us when we said there were no dragons
outside the cave.”
“What did you do?”
“We got the first scientist aboard in a minute or two, but the second just would not come out. Sava went in after him, tried to haul him out, but he fought her off. The dragons came back and started tearing up the ship, and Sava barely made it back – she got a nasty wound for her trouble. I made the decision to take off to get her treated.” Muir shook her head. “The other researcher died in the cave. His oxygen ran out while we were up in orbit.”
“Did the dragons damage the ship?”
“They tore up the armor pretty good. They might have been able to break something critical if we stayed much longer,” Muir said.
Talus pursed his lips. “How long were you on the ground?”
“About twenty minutes.”
“That’s not much time,” Talus said.
“No,” Muir agreed. “So once we start our descent and clear through the drone patrol screen, I need you driving hard for the crash site. Just nose down, straight at it, full speed, okay?”
“Got it.”
“I want to be geared up before we fly in – oxygen masks, noise cancellation staffs, the whole deal,” Muir continued. “That way we’re not wasting time suiting up on the ground. Can you fly with all that on?”
“Sure. I’ll fly in a dress and high heels if you think it will keep us safer.”
Muir smiled. “We scoot in, set down as close to the Ecolympus as we can. Out the back ramp, over to the closest hatch, and get inside. Find whoever’s still alive – if anyone – gather them up, and help them across to the Liberty Belle.”
“And if they’re injured?” Talus asked.
“We carry them. May need to be a couple of us carrying, the other ones keeping a lookout. Now remember: if Quiss and Hylie have their proxies in the area, you need to be able to distinguish them from the survivors on the Ecolympus.”
