Chronicles of Gilderam: Book One: Sunset (4 page)

He ran to the speaking tubes and yanked out the one labeled, “Bridge.”

“Observatory to bridge! Observatory to bridge!” he cried. “Two Tricorn ships on approach, bearing one hundred eighty degrees! Repeat, two Tricorn ships, directly astern, maybe sixty
entilum
out and closing. Bridge, do you read me?”

But there came no reply.

He repeated the message, but heard nothing but the airy whistle of an idle speaking tube in return. He muttered a grievous curse under his breath before rushing back down the stairs and sprinting out of the observatory.

Owein and his entourage arrived at the bridge, where they met Aroda, a few crewmen, and Chief Steward Pawl.

“Oh, thank the gods!” said Pawl when he saw them. “They’ve commandeered the bridge. The door is locked, and they are holding Captain Breld hostage!”

“
Cizeeth
…” Owein swore under his breath.

“We got here too late,” said Aroda.

“There’s also been some kind of an explosion,” said Pawl. “I think it might have come from the engine r–”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Owein said, and pushed his way past him to get to the door.

“I’ve already tried negotiating,” Aroda reported. “But they won’t talk.”

“I guess you didn’t say the right things.” Owein knocked on the door.

“Master Maeriod, –” Pawl objected, but Owein shushed him. He put his ear to the door and listened. He was sure he could hear two voices from within. They were whispering to each other.

“This is Commander Owein Maeriod, Chief of Security aboard
Gilderam
,” he called through the door. “Unlock this door immediately and I’ll spare your lives.” He waited, listening to more whispering. Then there was silence.

“There’s two of them!” a voice shouted from within. “With kniv–!” But the voice was cut off by an audible
smack
. Owein smiled.

“Brave man,” he said to himself, and turned back to the others. “Have we heard back from the escort yet?”

“Negative,” said Aroda. “I sent Shaesh out to rendezvous with Maiath and Thebulin on the main deck and signal them, but he hasn’t returned.”

“How long?”

Before Aroda could answer, an out-of-breath midshipman came running around the corner. It was Gantas, and his unexpected appearance gave everyone a start.

“Sir!” he wheezed, panting furiously. “Sir, there… there are… two ships… closing… from behind….” He paused to breath. “Tricorns, sir….”

“What did you say?” Owein demanded.

Gantas swallowed painfully. “Tricorn ships, sir… two of them… closing from behind.”

Pawl and the crewmen exchanged horrified looks.

“Where’s our
mlec
escort?!” Aroda spat.

“Man the deckguns,” Owein ordered. The crewmen and Gantas bustled down the corridor.

“Excuse me – eh, Master Maeriod, – um, I mean Commander,” Pawl bumbled. “
Gilderam
should be able to outrun them, but we need to get in the bridge to restart the engines.”

“I know…” said Owein, staring at the locked door. “I’ve got an idea for that.”

“There’s no hope for us if we’re boarded. I don’t think I need to remind you,” Pawl went on more seriously, “of the
caliber
of guests we have on board tonight.” His voice wobbled a bit as emotion peaked through. Owein gave him an annoyed look.

“No,” he said. “You don’t.” Then to Aroda, “Bring some more armed men here.” Owein turned to go down the hall. “When you hear a gunshot from the other side of that door, kick it down and come in with guns blazing.” He nodded to them and trotted away.

“You can’t be serious,” Aroda said. “…From the other side?” But the commander had already disappeared around a corner.

“I’m sorry,” said Pawl shakily, “but did he say,
‘guns blazing?
’”

Midshipman Gantas and the crewmen burst out the aft hatch onto the deck. They stopped short at the sight of the two Tricorn ships closing distance behind
Gilderam
.

“Quick!” Gantas said as he leapt for the deckgun. “You load, I’ll shoot.” He hopped into the gunner’s seat and buckled himself in. Then he heard swearing from behind.

“It can’t be…!”

“Can’t be what?” asked Gantas.

“The ammo…. There’s no ammo!”

“
What?!
”

“It’s empty! Someone’s unloaded it!”

“Check inside – hurry! They’re almost on top of us!”

The crewman ran back into the ship. A moment later, he returned with empty hands.

“It’s gone. It’s all
gone!
”

Gantas’ eyes turned to saucers. “We’ve been sabotaged…!”

On the deck of the lead Tricorn ship, Captain Perimos smugly stroked his goatee. Watching
Gilderam
sputter to a halt brought a twisted smile to his face. The thought of the ransom he could demand for any one of her passengers sent an electric thrill of excitement through his body. Counts, dukes and lords of every kind… landowners. An Imperial Councilor even – senior military officials – and some of Gresadia’s wealthiest businessmen. Not in his wildest dreams could he have imagined a more bounteous prize. And here it was, neatly bundled aboard this little ship, ripe and waiting for him.

“Captain,” said the boatswain. “Our men have disabled her engines. We’re nearly upon them.”

“Ready a boarding party,” he growled in reply. “I want as many of them alive as possible… they fetch a higher price that way.” Perimos chuckled dumbly at his own bad joke.

“And what of Ranaloc?”

“He is to be taken alive. Under absolutely no circumstances may he be harmed. If we can deliver the old man, the rest is ours to keep. That was the deal. See that it gets done.”

“Aye sir,” and the boatswain scurried away.

Perimos’ men ran about the deck preparing the invasion while the captain lazily reclined against a bulkhead.

“I’m not sure what you did to piss him off,” Perimos said to his prey aboard
Gilderam
, “but I thank you from the bottom of my heart for it. The Lamarioths never forgive, and they never forget.”

Galif kicked open a grate in the engine room wall near the floor and climbed out. First he saw the bodies.

“
Jatha
…”

Then he saw the blown-apart turbine.

“
Gweith
…
!
”

Then he saw the greatest shock of all – Mentrat Ranaloc.

“
Threithumé!
”

The white-haired old man was turning dials on a control podium in front of the wreckage. 

“Galif,” he said without looking up. “You have impeccable timing.”

The Chief Engineer took a few steps into the engine room. Bodies lay all around. Gore covered the walls and floor. Half of one turbine was blown completely away, leaving a blackened crater of smoking rubble in its place. The usual roar of the engine was little more than a stifled grinding in one corner.

Galif inspected the engine order telegraph.

“This is set to All Stop,” he said. “Who ordered that?”

“Haven’t the foggiest,” said Mentrat as he left the podium to flip switches on the primary boiler controls along one wall.

The short engineer pulled out a speaking tube beside the engine order telegraph. “Engine room to bridge,” he said. “This is Galif.” He waited for a reply.

None came.

He said it again.

Still nothing.

He reset the telegraph to “All Ahead Full,” and the lone functioning turbine groaned in protest.

“I don’t think that will do much good,” Mentrat muttered. Galif turned to give him a look, but his face was buried in the boiler switches. “We’ll need the bridge telegraph set to the equivalent speed to achieve an optimal gear ratio.” Galif turned back to the telegraph, and was so annoyed he didn’t notice a shuffling on the floor behind him.

“Bridge, this is Galif, Chief Engineer. Is anyone there?!”

The hijacker with the mustache, burned and bloodied from the explosion, strained to reach for a gun on the floor.

At last, an unfamiliar and eerily silky voice echoed down the speaking tube.

“
Yes, Galif. This is the bridge. We read you loud and clear
.”

“Who are you and what are you doing on this ship?!” he roared.

“
This ship is now property of the Tricorns. So be a good lad and turn the engines back off
.”

Galif’s face contorted with rage, and the edges of his mouth flared as if he were about to start screaming, but then –

Click!

Galif wheeled around to face the business end of a pistol that had just been dry-fired. Its operator, fatally wounded from the explosion, nonetheless threw the barrel open and attempted to reload it. Galif picked up a giant wrench from the floor and brought it down, once and mightily, on the hijacker’s skull. The gun tumbled onto the grates.

“Why, by the gods, did you do that?” asked Mentrat. He had stopped flicking switches, and was looking with honest astonishment from Galif to the dead hijacker.

“He just very nearly killed me!”

“It wasn’t loaded.”

Galif was speechless.

“Go and fetch that toolbox in the locker, would you?” Mentrat said, dashing for the smoldering turbine. “We still have a ship to fix.”

Galif continued to glare for only a moment longer before remembering the urgency of their situation. Then he ran to the locker.

“Captain!” cried the boatswain. “She’s moving again!
Gilderam
is moving forward!”

“What?!” said Perimos, stepping from the forecastle to see. To his disappointment, he watched
Gilderam
gradually begin to chug further away from him. He could hear the pitiful straining of its one turbine through the propeller shaft.

“So…” he said to himself. “They must’ve failed to disable her completely. You!” he called to a passing sailor. “Get to the bridge! Tell them to increase speed – get us close enough to board!”

Aside from her main deck,
Gilderam
had two smaller decks, one halfway up, and one halfway down. Owein burst out onto the upper deck with an arm-full of coiled rope. At the fore of the vessel, where Owein tied one end of the rope to the railing, the platform jutted out over the bridge. Its windshield glinted below him with reflections of the moon and Aelmuligo.

Owein doubled-checked his two pistols – both were loaded. One he slung around his shoulder, and the other he made ready in his hand. Entwining his other arm in the rope, he transferred himself to the outside of the railing.

Then he took a couple deep breaths.

“Okay…” he said to himself. “Here goes nothing.” And he leapt straight out into the open air.

His jump was true and he easily surpassed the bridge below him. When he reached the end of the rope’s slack, he swung back toward the ship on a collision course with the windshield. He struggled to take aim through the accelerating centrifugal force.

Bang!

Owein fired a shell into the window just before he hit it, and the thick glass spider-webbed in a flash. Then his body crashed through, and the window shattered magnificently. Owein flipped over backwards and landed in the captain’s chair amidst a shower of broken glass.

The hijackers stared at him from the floor, dumbfounded, as Owein stood up and dusted off the glass.

“You guys…” he said between heaving breaths, bringing his second gun to bear on them. “…Are under arrest.”

Right on cue, the door to the bridge was kicked off its hinges and Aroda led a team of men in to apprehend the Tricorns. Commander Maeriod ascended the stairs and untied Captain Breld.

“Nice work, Captain,” Owein said. “I don’t think I could’ve done it if you hadn’t….” But his jaw dropped as Shazahd entered the bridge. “
You
…
?
What are you doing here?”

“Finding out what’s going on with my ship,” she fired back.

“It’s not safe for you here. You should be in the ballroom. And just how did you manage to get past –?!”

“Are these the
jefethum
who hijacked my ship?” Shazahd demanded. Aroda nodded.

Shazahd reeled back and punched the taller one in the face so hard she knocked him free of the guards holding him. He fell onto the navigation table, unconscious. Then she jacked the shorter man in the stomach, and the Tricorn saboteur doubled over and sank to the floor.