Brotherhood of the Strange (Kingship, Tales from the Aether Book 1) (4 page)

“Well it seems to have quit again,” Vance muttered flipping a few more brass switches, somewhat disappointed he had missed those brief seconds where it had come to life.

“Don’t be fiddlin’ with it too much there, lad,” Winston warned. He had deliberately taken his seat at the pilot’s controls putting at least a little distance between himself and the device. Vance half wondered if he should remind Winston he was captain, even if only in jest. Though he couldn’t really expect a man thirty years his senior who served with his grandfather to consider him more than a lad. Truth be told though, he referred to nearly everyone as ‘lad’ or ‘lass’.

“What do you think Afa?” Vance asked. “What should I do with this?”

“You are the Captain, and it is your ship, the choice lies with you.”

Vance smirked, “I had a feeling that’s what you would say, my friend. I can’t for the life of me figure out how this works, or if it really ever worked. At the same time, it’s a piece of my grandfather’s ship; it feels wrong to just tear it out.”

“Then don’t. Its purpose will reveal itself in time. Purposes always do.”

“I suppose you’re right, Vance replied. “What brought you up to the bridge anyway? I thought you were transferring seedlings today.”

The large man thought for a second, “I’m not sure. It just felt like it was time for this to turn on again, I’m not sure why.”

“Well,” Vance said looking up at Afa, “as always, I rely on your senses as much as my own.”

“Thank you, Fekitoa.”

“Hey lads,” Winston’s voice sounded.

“Want to tell me again why we should throw this thing overboard?”

“Maybe later, Captain, But right now I think you really should see what I’m seeing.”

It was the change in tone of Winston’s voice that alerted Vance, and the fact he had addressed him as ‘Captain’ that drove him and Afa out of the radio room and onto the bridge. Winston wordlessly pointed out of the large curved windows of the bridge. About three miles distant, emerging from the far side of an upland, was an airship whose flying colors meant only one thing, pirates.

“Winston,” Vance said tersely, “sound the alarm. Where’s Burd?”

Last I saw him Cornelius, he was in his workshop,” replied Afa.

Vance turned and ran off the bridge back to one of the rooms that used to be designated as crew quarters but now housed Cornelius Burd’s toy workshop. As he ran he heard the alarm bell sounding, two quick blasts, followed by two more sets of the same. Unsurprisingly, he met Burd at the entry to his workshop. Unlike the rest of the crew, who had a definite place to be if the alarm rang, Burd’s skill set required him to be more flexible. So, rather than waiting for him to report to the bridge, Vance decided to intersect him en route.

“What’s going on Cap’n?” the man asked, emerging from his workshop with a half built wooden fire engine in one hand, and a small pistol in the other.

“Looks like some pirates are floating our way,” Vance replied. “Doesn’t look too serious, at first glance, but best to be cautious.”

“Suit up then?” Burd said with eyebrows raised and an excited gleam in his eye.

“You’d be terribly disappointed if you didn’t get the chance,” Vance smiled back.

“Righto Cap’n. Not too serious you say? Who should I take?”

Vance already had an answer for his old friend, “Jessica, she hasn’t been out for a while.”

Without another word a smiling Burd was off to his quarters up on the main deck to don one of his several rocket-packs, each having different capabilities, and each bearing a lady’s name. Vance suspected these names originated either from previous romantic encounters or the dozens of vessels he had served on in his murky military career. Whatever the source Vance considered it ungentlemanly to ask, given the many painful memories his friend faced. Spinning on his heel he made his way back onto the bridge where the telephone, another modern oddity considering the age of the Kingship, was ringing. He knew it would be Wingnut, indicating she was in the engine room and was ready to receive instructions. Her love of technology and gadgetry always drove her to use the phone instead of the ship-wide myriad of voice pipes Vance found to be more than reliable. Picking up the receiver Vance could hear the sounds of the engine room, “Wingnut?”

“Aye sir, what be goin’ on down there?”

“Looks like pirates. Nothing we can’t handle though I want you to stoke the fires, get us up to full steam in case we need to do some rather dexterous maneuvering. Got it?”

“Aye, but remind Winston the port aft steam thruster is still a little slow to open. Just have him keep it in mind if we need to turn suddenly.”

Unable to resist trying to get a rise out of her despite the circumstances, Vance challenged, “I thought you already fixed that.” He wasn’t disappointed in the reaction which followed.

“I told you the parts I needed two weeks ago ya’ ungrateful git of a captain!”

Smiling Vance replied, “Well you’ll get all the spare parts you want after we deal with these guys and get to Germany.”

“I’m holdin’ ya to that, sir.”

Vance hung up the receiver and turned to inform Winston of the issue with the maneuvering thruster. Despite the banter that often went on during the anxious moments, his crew knew what to do. Even Afa who lacked the military training and discipline found in the rest, was always cool under pressure. This fact was proven by the various gauges already showing an increase in steam pressure throughout the ship’s systems, mute evidence of Wingnut’s ability to do the job of three people in an engine room. Reaching into a small storage compartment he pulled out a hefty pair of command goggles, a souvenir, one of many, from his abrupt departure from military service. Placing them on his head he plugged their long cable into the ship’s electrical system. It took only a few seconds for the system to warm up displaying a compass, tactical grid and distancing numbers. These goggles had seen use through many battles in the past and the worn leather straps that held them firmly in place lent the Kingship’s Captain an extra level of confidence. Vance gazed upon the situation a few miles distant. The airship was a medium sized zeppelin, by the looks of the design it had once been an American vessel. How it came to be a pirate ship plaguing the skies of Belgium would undoubtably be an interesting tale. By now it had fully emerged from the upland it had been hiding none too well behind which itself was not very remarkable. It was a few acres in size, with little flat ground to be seen. Clumps of vegetation grew here and there though there were no trees nor buildings to be seen. It was essentially a giant floating rock in the sky. Adjusting the magnification with a series of dials built into the side of the goggles, Vance was able to get a better look at the zeppelin which was fairly well armed with a motley assortment of both plasmatic and gunpowder weaponry, though the ship itself, like all lighter than air vessels, appeared to be on the fragile side. It was certainly not the type of airship Vance himself would consider taking into combat, even against unarmed ships.

“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 bridge. 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.