Free-Wrench

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Free-Wrench Page 25

by Joseph R. Lallo


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  On the Wind Breaker, Captain Mack still toyed with his cigar, quietly questioning if taking a few puffs would be worth the potentially fatal breaths of fug that would come along with them. Butch was watching the darkness in the direction of the warehouse, while Wink took advantage of the patrolman’s unconscious state to illustrate precisely how he felt about the fug folk in general, and this one in particular. He may not have had words, but he was quite expressive with bodily functions.

  “Good to know where your loyalties lie, Wink,” Captain Mack said. He looked toward the center of Fugtown. A pair of faint glows signaled the return of their “rescuers.” “They are taking their sweet time of it. Just about time to haul up the anchor, I’d say. And to get this fella out of sight.”

  He shoved the sleeping and lightly soiled patrolman with his boot, sending him tumbling through a hatch and into the ship. With him safely out of sight, he took the controls and began massaging the levers. In a maneuver that had taken several years to master, he managed to dislodge the anchor from the ground with nothing more than some fancy winch work and an engine-assisted swing of the gondola. The groaning anchor winch was still rumbling inside the ship when Butch pointed and bellowed something. He turned to see the sky light up with an orange-green flare that drifted slowly downward. Instantly the approaching ships’ engines roared as they shifted toward the warehouse.

  “Figures my crew would have the worst possible timing.”

  He pushed his own engines to the limit, nodding in appreciation as the repairs Nita had made didn’t blast to bits under the strain. The Wind Breaker surged forward, but it became clear quite quickly that the fug folk saved the best ships for themselves. Captain Mack’s craft was never known for its speed. Its turbines were selected for good maneuvering and long journeys. Even the tow ship was gaining on them. Fortunately, the Wind Breaker was much closer to the warehouse… but not nearly as close as the patrol ship that was now becoming visible directly below the flare. He glanced back at the other ships. At this rate they would reach the warehouse at the same time he did, leaving the Wind Breaker outnumbered three ships to one.

  “Figures…” he repeated.

 

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