The Soldier: Escape Vector Page 15

  “Who defeated the mobile base?” he asked softly, “and who erected a field of some kind around the gas giant?”

  If he discovered those answers, he would probably know what was really going on in the pocket universe, the Corvine System.

  Cade jerked as he heard a strange whine. He listened again. The noise—the whine—came from outside. Leaning on his belly, he peered through the hole he’d made. All he saw was ocean. He poked his head through the hole, looking around. Something hovered near the airship, pacing the slow-moving, ponderous vessel. Cade studied the chrome of its hull—

  It was a Rhune sky-raft inching closer to the Day Star. The implication seemed clear. The Rhunes had come for him much sooner than he would have expected.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Cade ran through options in his mind. He had few to none. But he’d be damned if he let himself be taken prisoner again without a fight.

  The Rhunes had taken the Descartes and likely Dr. Halifax in it. Logically, the Rhunes would want to question him, as they might have questioned Halifax if the doctor had survived. Rhunes used cyborg tech. What did that mean? Cade shook his head sharply. Now wasn’t the moment to ponder the implications of that. Now was the time to act.

  What was his best move?

  Cade’s nostrils flared. His training and inclination pushed him toward violent, direct action, the type of attack that often paralyzed an enemy because it was so sudden and unexpected.

  The sky-raft inched closer yet, the chrome under-housings whining more loudly. Cade cocked his head. Did he hear human shouts from the crew on the gondola’s upper deck?

  Making his decision, Cade used a thong to tie the cutlass hilt to the belt. He didn’t want the cutlass falling out. Then he did what anyone else would consider madness. He began crawling through the hole he’d hacked on the bottom of the cargo hold. He did this until he realized it wouldn’t work, and pulled himself back in.

  Crawling on the underbelly of the gondola hull would prove too difficult, as there was nothing for his feet to grip and his legs would dangle. He didn’t want to try hand-over-hand along the bottom of the airship.

  He stood, snatched the axe off the floor and moved to a different location in the hold. There, he hacked a new hole, this one high on the side wall. In moments, the hole was big enough to allow him to push his head and shoulders through. The ocean was below. If he fell, he could twist himself into a headfirst dive and start over again from the water.

  Using his hands, he reached up and grasped the tightly woven wickerwork side. He dragged the rest of his body through the side hole. His iron-like fingertips thrust through the wicker weaving, enough to give him purchase. It would be slow work, but what else could he do? He began scaling the outer gondola hull. He used the toes of his boots and kicked against the wickerwork until he had a modicum of purchase each time so he could shove upward.

  Maybe using the interior ladders and stairs would have been easier. It might have alerted the crew, however, if someone had seen him and raised the alarm. He desperately wanted to achieve the element of surprise, as it was a combat-force multiplier. If he was going to impose his will on the others, he was going to need every edge he could get.

  As Cade climbed the outer hull—on the opposite side from the Rhune sky-raft—he definitely heard crew members shouting and the shouting abruptly stopping. Cade did not climb faster. He still did it deliberately, as any slip might cost him dearly.

  Soon, he spied the gondola’s outer walkway above. It was more than just a reach to get to the outer edge of the walkway. If he could—Cade lowered his body as he tensed and shoved hard with his boot and fingertips, leaping for the outer edge. In the air, he twisted his body like a gymnast as he sailed, and his fingers latched onto the outer side of the walkway. One hand’s fingers slipped off. He dug hard with the other hand, trying to gain purchase. If this hand slipped—his right-hand fingers held. He brought the left hand back as he dangled from the walkway. With muscular power, he pulled himself up fast and switched his handhold as his torso shot up above the walkway. He leaned onto it and brought his legs up, panting for a moment—resting—on the horizontal wickerwork.

  Surprise them while it counts.

  He brought up his knees and then his feet. He checked himself, untying the thong holding the cutlass to the scabbard. Then he continued to straighten until he reached the bamboo railing and peered over it.

  What the hell?

  The entire crew must have been on the upper deck. They held flintlock long-barrels, pistols, cutlasses and knives. They stood like a tame herd of cattle, though. They did not mill. They did not look around. The crew stood silently and quietly as if waiting for orders. The greater majority stood near the bamboo rail on the other side of the gondola as Cade. The only one among the crew who did move was—of course—Velia De Lore.

  She stood at the rear of the unmoving throng, walking around them toward the sky-raft.

  Cade waited until she moved past the last rank and toward the waiting sky-raft. At that point, he climbed onto the upper deck. The diesel engine still idled, but someone had disengaged the propellers. The airship drifted slowly as a gentle wind propelled it.

  Moving faster, Cade reached the back of the throng. From behind, he peered up at a rear-rank crewman. The pirate-clad airman’s eyes were frozen forward, and his face was slack. Cade checked another crewmember. It was the same with this man, too.

  On impulse, Cade tore the first man’s long barrel out of the rough hands. It was like taking it from a sleepwalker. Cade checked. The rifle held a bullet, charge and primer. He took a sash of loaded flintlock pistols as well, draping the sash over his torso. Then, in a crouch, he began working toward the opposite side of the unmoving crowd as Velia.

  He heard a murmur—talking—but it was indistinguishable. He crouched lower, passing the side of the still crowd. The sky-raft was a little lower than the upper gondola deck. Cade could still see a central shack on the sky-raft, a polished steel rail around the far edges and two cannons, similar to those that adorned a WWII Earth submarine’s outer hull.

  Creeping forward, Cade reached the airship side and slowly peered up, looking down directly at the sky-raft.

  There was a wide secured plank between the gondola and sky-raft. The plank had rails, and Velia inched along it, holding onto one set of rails tightly. Her eyes were screwed shut and her body language indicated fear of heights.

  That was odd, as Cade had never seen any indication of that before.

  Velia headed down toward a stick figure of a man in a long black robe. He had short dark hair, sunken eyes and cheeks—his face was like a skull with parchment skin. On the front of the robe was the symbol of a bright object with outward radiating wavy lines. He watched Velia dispassionately.

  There were two other strange men flanking the first. Each held his arms high with his flingers spread wide apart. The sleeves of their black robes had fallen down to reveal skinny arms. They all looked like starvation victims, without an ounce of fat on them. Their eyes were fixed upon the unmoving crowd of airmen. Cade also noticed slowly spinning multicolored devices in each man’s palm.

  Cade felt it then, his focus pulled toward the spinning colored discs. The intense eyes, the two men—with a great effort of will, the soldier tore his gaze from the swirling discs. He sucked air afterward, stunned, realizing he’d nearly fallen under the same spell as the crewmen.

  Yes! The two robed men held the throng of airmen in hypnotic thrall. It was magic, or much higher technology than he understood.

  Using the shoulder of his jacket, Cade brushed his chin as his heart hammered with superstitious fear. If this was magic—

  He squinted. He refused to accept black magic or sorcery as the answer. This was…something else—it had to be, right?

  Put that aside for the moment.

  The process of their doing this wasn’t as important as to the reason. Why would the robed men do this? The answer became obvious: because despite whate
ver Dorian and Velia were up to—had been up to—the Day Star airmen wouldn’t like what they saw. Their firearms and swords showed they must have been ready to fight for their lives. Was this how—?

  “Rhunes,” Cade whispered with sudden understanding. The black-robed men on the sky-raft were Rhunes. Yet, they appeared human, more or less. So why had Tarvoke called them aliens before?

  As Cade pondered this, Velia reached the end of the plank, slowly setting foot onto the sky-raft. She must have opened her eyes, as she walked faster to the main…Rhune. She confirmed Cade’s belief by falling onto her face before the Rhune. She groveled as the Rhune stared down at her dispassionately.

  Revulsion twisted Cade’s lips, and he couldn’t say why he felt this inner loathing, but it was strong. Before he realized it, he straightened from his crouch and raised the flintlock so the stock rested against his right shoulder.

  The main Rhune saw him, turning his head to stare across the air gap.

  The loathing intensified, and that sharpened his focus. Cade needed force multipliers against the Rhunes, and he realized where he could get them. Thus, he retargeted at the nearest hypnotizer, held the flintlock rock-steady and pulled the trigger. The weapon clicked and discharged, causing the head of the nearest Rhune with his hands in the air to disintegrate in a spray of blood and bone. Cade dropped the rifle, drew a pistol from his sash holder, pulled the hammer back with his thumb and aimed unerringly at the second acolyte.

  That one began to turn his head before the bullet struck. His forehead shattered as he flew sideways onto the sky-raft deck.

  The airmen on the gondola—the ones holding rifles and cutlasses—began to stir as if waking from a long, deep sleep.

  The main Rhune bent at the waist, grabbing at Velia. Was he going to kill her? Did he plan to use her as a body shield as Cade had used a dying Dorian before?

  Cade pulled out another pistol, cocked, aimed and the gun misfired, the pan creating a puff of black smoke, but the main charge failing to ignite. He tossed the pistol to the deck and drew the last two, one in each hand.

  “Stop,” the Rhune said in a loud voice. “Stop or—”

  Cade fired, and the Rhune fell away onto the sky-raft deck, struck mid-torso by a bullet.

  Velia screamed as she scrambled away from the fallen, twisting Rhune.

  “To arms, to arms!” Cade thundered. “The Rhunes have captured our captain. We have to save her. Kill everyone on the sky-raft.”

  Cade took several steps back, ran forward and jumped hard, rising over the gondola railing. He sailed across the gap between vessels, his legs churning in the air. He wouldn’t have made it, but the sky-raft deck was lower than the upper gondola deck. He barely cleared the enemy rail and landed hard.

  There were more Rhunes. Two ran out of the central shack, rushing to a cannon, reaching it and beginning to turn the airship-killer toward the gondola.

  Cade bellowed as he fired his last pistol, killing one of them. He dropped the empty weapon and drew the cutlass, charging the last cannon tender. That was too much for the surviving Rhune, who pushed away from the cannon, pulling up his robe so his skinny legs churned as he ran for the central housing.

  Behind Cade, the airmen shouted, waking up and encouraging one another to follow the soldier’s example and save their captain from Rhune captivity.

  The hapless Rhune reached the central housing and frantically tried to open the door—it was locked. Surely, he hadn’t locked it coming out, which implied someone was still in the control cabin. The Rhune spun around to face Cade.

  The soldier swung the cutlass, using the armored hilt to strike the Rhune across the face instead of hacking him to death. The skinny black-robed man slid bonelessly to the deck, unconscious or dead from the vicious blow.

  “Open the door,” Velia said imperiously.

  Cade glanced at her. She held a tiny needler in her fist. It was aimed at him.

  “If you attempt anything I don’t like,” she said quietly, “you’re going to sleep. This time, you won’t wake up.”

  “If we don’t break in, what’s to stop the Rhunes inside from turning the sky-raft upside-down and pitching us into the ocean?”

  Hesitation entered her eyes.

  That’s all Cade needed. He slapped her hand, knocking the needler from it so it clunked onto the deck. He bent to retrieve it. A flashing boot kicked it—Velia’s—sending the tiny needler sailing over the sky-raft railing and then dropping toward the ocean below.

  At that point, the sky-raft deck shuddered.

  Cade straightened. The needler was gone, so it was no longer an issue. He backed up, backed up more, and he charged the door, launching airborne as he struck the metal door with the bottom of both boots. Something cracked, a bar, hinges maybe—but the door still held.

  “Surrender!” Velia shouted at those inside. “Surrender, and we’ll let you live.”

  Cade backed up again, readying to charge once more.

  The door opened. A black-robed Rhune stood there with a blaster in his right hand. “Listen to me well, woman,” the Rhune whispered.

  Cade heard the words, realized he could still use Velia—and that he could easily die to blaster fire. Thus, Cade hurled the cutlass. It wasn’t his well-balanced boot knife and it wasn’t much of a throw. But he didn’t need to kill the man, just make sure he didn’t kill any of them.

  The cutlass struck the Rhune hilt-first against his chest, which knocked him backward into the control housing. As Velia stood in shock and surprise, Cade swept past her. The Rhune was on the floor, but he hadn’t released the blaster.

  “You,” the Rhune said, lifting the weapon and pulling the trigger. A gout of energy erupted.

  Cade twisted with preternatural quickness, the line of energy barely sizzling past him.

  Velia groaned from behind, and he heard a thump.

  Cade charged and kicked as the Rhune re-aimed. Bones cracked, and the blaster sailed from the Rhune’s broken hand, hitting the far wall.

  “Wait,” the Rhune whispered. “I can help you.”

  Cade dropped onto a knee as his fist crashed against the Rhune’s throat. The man bucked and gurgled, and he tried to grab his bruised throat. Cade did not let him as he struck two more times, crushing the windpipe. The bastard had slain Velia—Cade was sure. There was something else to the brutality, something deep in Cade that brought his revulsion to full strength.

  He looked up. There were no more Rhunes in the control cabin. He might well have captured the sky-raft. Now, could he keep it, and use the raft to his advantage?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cade trembled with suppressed fury as he picked up the blaster. This was a cyborg trooper issued sidearm from The War, a Lupus 19 Energy Gun, one of the highest-tech pistols of their time. Why had a Rhune brandished one? Why did he feel such strong and instinctive hatred toward the Rhunes, as if they were—?

  Cade stiffened as a revelation hit. He hated the Rhunes as if they’d been cyborg troopers. Why would he feel this way…?

  “Unless these are cyborgs?” he whispered to himself.

  The idea helped him regain control of his fury. He was a soldier, one genetically designed to battle cyborg troopers on even terms.

  One Rhune remained—the one who the other had locked out and Cade had struck with the cutlass basket hilt. That Rhune cradled Velia’s head on his robed lap as he spoke softly to the first mate Regor. The Rhune spoke meekly and with his head lowered in submission.

  Regor aimed a pistol at the Rhune’s head. A mob of angry airmen stood at the first mate’s back.

  Cade stepped out of the cabin. Velia was twisted in pain, her white blouse bloody. Part of the blouse was gone, destroyed by the energy gun. The energy hadn’t struck her directly, but in the lower part of her torso.

  Without a word, as everyone watched, Cade knelt beside her. He spied his boot knife in one of her boot tops. Drawing it, he cut away bloody blouse to expose her blaster-burned side. The energy hadn’t
fully pierced her but mangled the skin. He glanced at her face. She was in shock. Had the Rhune realized that? Did he know she should live? Would he try to bargain and say that he’d saved her life?

  “It isn’t fatal,” Cade said, staring at Velia.

  She appeared not to hear. Her fingers tightened around the skinny Rhune arms holding her, and she began to weep, likely at the pain.

  Regor lowered his pistol. “Did the Rhune save her life?”

  The Rhune looked up, and appeared to summon strength—

  “No,” Cade said. “I saved her. I stopped the other one from murdering her with this.” He held up the blaster. “If this one claims he saved the captain—” Cade peered in the Rhune’s face. Knowing the shell of a man was really a cyborg—how did he know that? A new feeling swept over Cade, pushing aside the hatred. Maybe he was wrong about this man. The Rhune was acting kindly and—

  Cade moved onto a knee as his left hand shot out, clutching the Rhune by the skinny throat. “Stop doing that,” he said.

  Feelings of shame radiated at Cade. How could he harm one who wished to help—?

  Cade’s fingers tightened and the Rhune gurgled in pain.

  “Here now,” Regor said. “Why ye be doing that to him?”

  Cade’s fingers tightened as his tips dug into flesh.

  The feelings of shame snapped off.

  Regor grunted, as if he’d felt something too.

  “He’s a wizard,” Cade said thickly, his grip loosening. “He’s using magic against us, just like the others did to you before I saved you by killing the magicians.”

  “By Cletus,” Regor swore. “That be true. Ye saved our life…Cade. Why would ye do that after we treated you so badly?”

  “Men should stick together against the Rhunes,” Cade said.

  Regor nodded, frowning afterward. “Now what happens?”