Free-Wrench, no. 1 Page 16

  The minutes rolled by as she weighed herself down with medicines, design books, and gadgets. At first she took her time to find things that were sturdy enough to survive rough handling and still fetch a high price. There were clocks, strange tools, complex locks, and items that, even with a description, she couldn’t comprehend. Gradually she used less and less care, choosing instead to get her bags filled as quickly as possible. Every passing moment filled her with more anxiety, since what little planning they had done was focused on escaping before they were noticed, and there was little hope of that happening if they didn’t get moving quickly. As she progressed down the aisle devoted to the more technical devices, they steadily grew in size and complexity, tools being replaced with machinery, then replacement parts, and finally something that managed to force all of the fear and worry from her mind, allowing her inner engineer to practically froth at the mouth.

  #

  Elsewhere in the warehouse, Gunner and the Coopers crossed paths. Unlike Nita, they had been focusing on quantity over quality from the beginning. Gunner was a walking armory now, strapped with rifles, pistols, ammunition, and strange assemblages of metal pipes, wooden stocks, and triggers that seemed far too large to be a weapon intended to be fired by or at a human. The siblings had grabbed anything and everything light enough to carry and small enough to shove in a sack.

  “What’s that big brass tube there, Gunner?” Lil asked breathlessly.

  “Something called a ‘rocket-propelled grenade.’ I am thoroughly interested in two of those three terms, so I suspect I’ll find it quite useful,” he said.

  “I got a mess of booze and some of those tins of fancy fish eggs they charge so much for. Plus, I got a couple of those cameras and the stuff to take a pile of pictures. I reckon we could start taking our own girlie pictures. They always sell real good.”

  “Yeah, but where you gonna get the girlies?” Lil asked.

  “Well, there’s you, and there’s Nita, and Butch.”

  “If you think me or Nita are gonna dress up like them girlies you’re always selling pictures of, that brain of yours needs adjusting. And no offense to Butch, but she don’t seem like her pictures would fetch much of a price.”

  “Well, what did you get?”

  “Perfume and a bunch of bolts of that fancy fabric they make down here, and some of them good binoculars and telescopes and such,” she said. “I still got some sacks left. I want to do another round to fill ’em up.”

  “Coop, Gunner, Lil!” Nita called out as loud as she dared.

  “There you are,” Lil said. “Where’s your sacks? Time’s a-wasting!”

  “How much can the Wind Breaker carry?” she asked.

  “More than we can, so get to filling those sacks.”

  “No, I mean it. How much can it carry?”

  “We ain’t been able to overload it yet. When the cap’n had the fuggers fix it up for the long-haul trips, he had them swap out the envelope for one of them heavy-lifter ones they use for hauling coal up from the mines down here.”

  “Could it handle three tons?”

  All eyes turned to Gunner.

  “Just about. The handling would suffer, but it would get off the ground. Why?”

  “Follow me. Bring the sacks. I think I’ve found a way to really make the most of this,” she said.

  She led the way to a loading area, which contained all sorts of large steam engines ready for installation, and where an enormous and curious device—a long, flat platform on wide, rubber-studded wheels—stuttered and hissed. The platform’s bed was already loaded with a few miniature boilers and small steam engines, the likes of which only the fug folk seemed able to create. An arm’s-worth of sacks had already been loaded onto it and were well secured. On one side of the platform was a glowing firebox hooked up to the most complicated tangle of pipes, tubes, gears, springs, levers, and valves any of the crewmembers had ever seen. A seat was bolted to the side of the mechanism and surrounded by wheels and levers.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “They just call it a ‘steam hauler.’ It is a steam-powered wagon. All we need to do is get the goods out here so they can be loaded, right? This can haul five times as much as we can. We load it up, roll it out, and empty it into the gig.”

  “Can you operate it?” Gunner asked.

  “I think I can get it moving.”

  “Let’s do it then. Get this thing loaded up.”

  Coop turned his head, angling his ear toward the wall. “Uh-oh. You folks hear that?”

  “What is it?”

  “I think we been found out. I’m hearing turbines and a lot of yelling.”

  “Let’s just get out of here!” Lil said. “Take what we got. It’s already worth more than we made in the last few years put together.”

  “No. I’ve got a better idea. Coop, get to the door, clear it of fug folk, and do what it takes to block it, then get back here and start loading this bed with anything you can.”

  He fired off a salute. “This’ll be fun!” he called out while running.

  “Nita, you get to loading this up. I want this bed filled.”

  “What should I do?” Lil asked.

  “I don’t care how, but get yourself up to the roof with the flares. And listen very carefully, because you’re not going to have much time to explain this to the captain…”

  #

  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.

  Chapter 14

  “Okay, boys and girls!” Lil cried out in combined exhilaration and fear. “I think we got their attention!”

  She huddled behind the stout masonry of the warehouse’s roof access. It was a brick enclosure that sheltered a staircase leading down into the building from the roof, or at least it had been a few minutes ago. Now it was rapidly being reduced to rubble by a hail of fléchettes launched from the twin guns of the hovering patr
ol ship.

  “We just need a few more seconds!” Nita called from inside.

  “Well, I don’t know if you’re gonna get it,” she replied. A brief lull in gunfire gave her a chance to lean out and unload a few rounds with her stolen rifle. Like most things they’d found since they’d approached the warehouse, it was an order of magnitude better made than what they’d been using. The weapon barked a short sharp report and actually managed to buckle the metal mounting of one of the fléchette guns. “I hope I live long enough to get good with this thing.”

  The sound of a second and much more familiar set of turbines drew the attention of Lil and the patrol ship alike. The senior officer of the patrol ship pulled out his megaphone. “Attention unknown ship. You will leave this area immediately, or you will be fired on. We are in the process of eliminating a trespasser and will not be interfered with.”

  “I don’t rightly care,” came the captain’s bellowed reply.

  “The cap’n’s here! You ready yet!” Lil cried.

  “We’re ready!” Nita called back.

  “Finally! Cap’n! Down here!” Lil waved. A fresh round of fléchettes from the intact deck gun sent her back under cover. “Hang on, I’ll light up another flare so’s you can see me!”

  She strapped her rifle to her back and pulled out the second flare, little more than a bundle of brightly burning material strapped to a small parachute. Lighting the fuse and hefting it once, she made ready to heave it straight up, but a thought struck her. With a shrug, she hurled it instead directly at the deck of the patrol ship, which had pulled quite close in its attempts to perforate her. The flare sparked to brilliant life just as it landed on the deck, causing a few moments of panic as they tried to figure out what she had thrown. It didn’t last long, but it lasted long enough for the Wind Breaker to get close enough to make it clear to the patroller that it had no intention of avoiding a collision. The ship hastily withdrew, and the Wind Breaker roared overhead, unfurling its rope ladder as it went. Lil, with her typical disregard for safety and common sense, dove off the roof after the rope and just barely snagged it, hauling herself quickly inside.

  There she found Butch, holding tight to the railing around the hatch after having sent down the ladder. Lil ran to the speaking tube in the gig room and hollered into it.

  “Cap’n, I’m gonna start unhooking the gig.” Since the winch for the gig was the strongest and the hatch above the gig was one of the largest, they frequently detached the gig to haul in larger cargo. To facilitate this, the final length of chain connected to the gig was fastened in place with removable bolts, above which were heavy-duty hooks. Lil deployed a pair of wrenches and began loosening the bolts. “When you see the rest of the crew, chase them down and we’ll pick them up.”

  “That’s going to be a mite difficult, seeing as how I don’t know where they are, and, without a distraction, these patrol ships on either side of me aren’t going to give me the time to find them,” he replied.

  “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that. Just get the ship moving down that there street, and don’t stop for nothing.”

  At that moment a deafening crack of thunder split the air from below as a large section of the warehouse wall exploded outward. The enemy ships pulled back, their crew shouting and scanning the area for artillery. Shattered bits of masonry were still raining down to the ground when a wheel-squealing, piston-pumping contraption came roaring through the hole in the wall. It was the steam cart, mounded with all manner of stolen goods. Nita sat at the controls on the front end, her goggles firmly in place. She was wrestling to keep the vehicle from plowing into the buildings on either side of the street while the rest of the crew clung desperately to the mound of loot. It rattled along the road at a speed that clearly came as a surprise to its passengers. A brilliant beam of light projected from a curved reflector above the over-stoked firebox, lighting up the street ahead of them.

  “What the hell is that?” the captain hollered over the speaking tube.

  “That’s our haul. Pretty good one, huh?” Lil said. “Get us over it.”

  “We’re not going to have any luck loading that thing up with these three ships all over us,” the captain said. The sounds of fléchettes digging into the wood of the gondola were already coming in bursts. “If you’re going to drop the gig, do it on my mark.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  The Wind Breaker pitched upward, phlogiston pumping into its envelope and its altitude rising. One of the patrol ships flew beside them, its lone functioning gun focused on the madly weaving steam cart below. The other patrol ship was behind them but gaining fast, peppering them with fléchettes that had so far been unable to puncture the additional patches they’d applied during their days of preparation. The art of ship-to-ship combat was effectively reduced to achieving and holding the high ground. Whichever ship was highest had the best shot at the envelopes of the others while simultaneously protecting its own. Captain Mack had made certain his cannons were loaded, but without his full crew they would be slow to reload, so he was reluctant to fire them until he was certain he needed to. Though he wasn’t precisely certain why his recently rescued deckhand was determined to cut the gig loose, so long as it was going to happen, it may as well serve a purpose.

  He eased the ship over one of the two huge fans that gave the patrol ship its speed and slowly descended. “You ready to cut her loose?”

  “Just gotta yank the last bolt, Cap’n. Waiting for your mark,” Lil yelled over to the speaking tube. She had a pair of pliers clamped onto the final bolt and was holding tight to the railing around the gig hatch as the boat dangled against the one remaining connection.

  “Almost… almost… now!”

  “Launching gig!” Lil pulled the bolt loose and the boat plummeted a short distance before colliding with the port fan of the patrol ship.

  The powerful blades easily chewed through the wood of the boat, but not without consequence. Damaged blades buckled and finally tore free, one launching almost straight up and missing the Wind Breaker by inches. The patrol ship wasn’t so lucky, with one blade biting into the deck of the gondola and another slicing open the top of the envelope to release a blinding flare of fluorescent phlogiston lancing into the sky. It was enough to send the stricken ship spiraling quickly to the ground, its distress whistle blasting all the while.

  “Whoo-hoo! That’s one down!” Lil crowed. She rushed to the speaking tube. “Listen, Cap’n. We gotta get lower. Gunner and Nita figure the best way to do this is to hook the gig hoist to that cart thing there. After that we can haul the whole thing away.”

  “Were you planning on consulting with me about this?”

  “That’s what I’m doing now, Cap’n. You reckon we can do it?”

  There was a brief and potent silence. “I suppose we’ll find out.”

  #

  “Ha ha! That’s one down!” Gunner echoed from below, watching as the patrol ship collided with a row of empty buildings. The cart veered, nearly knocking him off. “Perhaps you should slow this thing just a touch, so that they can lower down the winch chains.”

  “Slow it down…” Nita said, glancing at the dizzying array of controls. “I think this one might do that.”

  She pulled a lever that instead gave such a surge of acceleration the front wheels nearly left the ground.

  “I said slower!”

  “I don’t know how to make it slower,” she said, hastily resetting the lever and at least bringing them back down to their original speed.

  “But you insisted on reading through that manual.”

  “Yes, to learn how to start it. Stopping it is another matter entirely.”

  A row of fléchettes whistled through the air, tracing a line across the road and sweeping toward the cart. Nita pulled hard on the stick she’d been able to determine was responsible for steering. The cart skittered across the cobblestones, fishtailing slightly before straightening again.

  “Not so sharp on the turn
s,” Gunner cried, holding tight to one of the ropes lashed over the pile of goods to keep them in place.

  “Look, do you want to drive?” she snapped, veering again to avoid another string of fléchettes.

  “Just don’t kill us before the patrol does!” he said. Still clutching the rope for stability, he reached into his jacket, drew a long-barreled pistol, and tried to level it at the second patrol ship, which was firing one gun at them and the other at the Wind Breaker.

  The patrol ship maneuvered nearly on top of the Wind Breaker, its shots striking the envelope with enough force to stick in but not yet puncture it. He squeezed off a shot, failing to hit anything vital but certainly giving the crew something to think about.

  “Here come the chains! Keep ’er steady, Nita!” Coop said.

  “I’m not making any promises!” Nita said.

  The chains reeled out more and more, then suddenly stopped, having reached their limit with a dozen feet to go. Nita eyed the looming buildings on each side of the street. The city obviously wasn’t designed to have an airship touching down in its avenues. From rooftop to rooftop there was room enough for the gondola to fit, but with mere feet to spare on either side. To get close enough, the ship was going to have to thread a needle at top speed while being shot at. It was something a sober, thoughtful man would never attempt. Captain Mack, on the other hand, eased the nose of the ship right in.

  “Almost!” Coop said, reaching out for the swinging chain as the gondola scraped off window boxes and tore free flagpoles from the fronts of houses. The first of four hooks was just inches from Coop’s fingers now, but he couldn’t reach it without letting go of the strap he’d been using to brace himself. Being Coop, the solution was simple enough. He let go. “I got it! Uh-oh…”

  He barely managed to get his fingers firmly around the hook when Mack had to pull the ship upward to avoid a balcony. The motion pulled the chains five feet into the air, and Coop right along with them.