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The Wind Breaker drifted low to the ground, nearly brushing the tops of the buildings that made up the sprawling and deserted cityscape. This far from the active part of the city there were no lamps to light the way. Captain Mack was forced to navigate by the dim glow of two large phlo-lights built into the prow. Combined with the low visibility, it was more a matter of luck than skill that they hadn’t been dragged across the spire of a particularly tall building, but not a whisper of concern showed on his face. The captain stood firm at the helm, the wind rustling his hair. Wink languished at the end of a short length of rope. He wore a hastily fashioned harness and had his eye trained on the darkness ahead. As a creature of the fug, he breathed well enough in the stuff. Even with only one eye, his vision was sharper than any other crewmember in the darkness, to say nothing of his hearing.
“You let me know the instant you see or hear something besides the wind, you understand?” Captain Mack said.
Tap.
“Good. You see us through this, and you just might still have a place in this crew.”
Wink twitched his batlike ears and angled them, then drummed his claws and pointed. The captain squinted. Just barely visible in the indicated direction glowed similar ship lights. He leaned low and spoke into the communication tube.
“We’re getting close. If you aren’t in the gig room, get there. I’m going to drop you off due south of the warehouse district. When you’ve got as much as you’re going to get, send up one of the flares. I’ll bring the Wind Breaker in and we’ll hightail it, but be ready to load in a hurry. Glinda and the traitor will stay with me to man the ship.”
“How do we know we’re almost there, Cap’n?” came Coop’s voice. “I can’t hardly see anything.”
“You’ll see it in a minute, if you keep your eyes starboard. Our inspector spotted a patrol. I don’t reckon they’d waste their time on any old corner of the city. Time to get their attention. Brace yourselves. This’ll be rough.”
The captain removed the linking bars for the various control levers and began to push them apart. The turbines groaned against their mountings and twisted the ship into an odd, diagonal drift. One of the turbines started to bind, producing a terrible whining noise. He eased the misaligned throttle just a bit to cut the sound off, but it had done its job. The patrol was on its way.
Unlike the patchwork and much abused Wind Breaker, the patrol ship was sleek and pristine as it emerged from the darkness. A grid of green lights was affixed to each side of its prow, and a line of fléchette guns and grapplers similar to those used by the wailers was mounted to the forward railing. The only thing the Wind Breaker had on it was size, as the craft was barely a third as large and manned by only three people.
“Attention!” announced one of the crewmembers, bellowing through a megaphone. “This section of Fugtown is restricted. If you have business here, be prepared to present your authorization. Otherwise return to the docks.”
“Oh, I’ve got business all right,” Captain Mack called out as best as he could through his mask. “I’m supposed to be getting this crate repaired. Only problem is, the damn thing started to drift on me. Got way off course. I’d be glad to take a tow, if you’re offering.”
“If you are in distress, why didn’t you sound your distress whistle?”
“Been busted for even longer than the turbines.”
The crew of the patrol ship conferred. Captain Mack didn’t show a flicker of concern. The same could not be said for Wink. From the moment the fug folk had come into view he had been trying to hide behind the captain. After a brief discussion, one crewman manned a grappler, and another stepped to a gun.
“There is a courtyard a quarter of a mile east of here. Guide your ship there, power down, and drop anchor. Once we confirm that you are immobile, we will leave a man with you and send for a dedicated tow ship. In the future, report for repair before your ship is so severely disabled.”
“I’ll do my best, but finances are none too obliging.” He leaned low and spoke as quietly as was reasonable into the speaking tube. “When the anchor drops, so do you. The dragging anchor should cover your noise.”
Free-Wrench Page 19
