Chapter Nine: Battles in the Sky

Chapter Nine:

Battles in the sky

Viscount Tristian Ignacious Augustine of the House of Rerum was half way to the brig when the first explosion shook the Fuga Libero, unsteadying his guards enough for him to break free. The guards were no fools, and they were on their feet with their sidearms in their hands even before the klaxon had begun to sound.

Tristian raised his arms "Boys, I'm not the problem here, but I can't let you take me to the brig - we're under attack, and I can help." His voice was calm but carried a clear edge of urgency. "I'm sure you have battle stations to get to, and you'll do more good there than here."

The first guard levelled his pistol directly at Tristian's forehead. "Sir, the Admiral has charged you with treason. There's no way we're leaving you running around."

The second guard also levelled his pistol. "As you say sir, we have battle stations to get to - if you wouldn't mind proceeding to the brig we'd quite like to get on." By way of emphasis he cocked the hammer on his low velocity dart pistol - a weapon which could safely be discharged in the pressurised and volatile environment of an airship at altitude - and took a menacing step forward.

Tristian raised his hands fractionally higher and took a half step backwards. "Come now, gentlemen," his voice was calm and placatory "we're very much on the same side - I need to" another explosion rocked the Fuga Libero and cut him short as well as throwing the guards off balance.

Tristian seized his opportunity, leaping forwards, and reaching out with both hands and smashing the guards' heads together as he somersaulted over the top of them, all three men landing in a cursing heap with the Viscount on top. Finding himself face to face with the second guard Tristian unleashed a ferocious and quite ungentlemanly headbutt, feeling the cartilage of the young man's nose crunch as it exploded against his forehead in a fountain of crimson pain. The guard slumped into what Tristian fervently hoped was mere unconsciousness.

 

The first guard struggled out from beneath his comrade and raised his pistol which spat out two silvery darts. Tristian, his face now covered in the second guard's blood, rolled to the left and the projectiles skimmed past him to embed themselves harmlessly in the deck. Carrying the momentum from the roll Tristian scythed his legs in the air, catching the remaining guard with a vicious boot to the solar plexus as he back flipped himself onto his feet bringing his fist upwards as he did so, planting an irresistible left hook on the chin of the doubled over guard. The guard's head snapped back as the momentum from the punch sent him careening backwards into the wall of the narrow corridor. He slid to the floor and lay still.

Bracing himself against another series of explosions Tristan checked his former guards and was relieved to find each had a strong pulse, although he'd wager the one with the broken nose wouldn't be winning any beauty pageants any time soon.

Retrieving his bowler hat from the floor where it had fallen in the fracas, Tristian scooped up the guard's pistols and snapped open the chambers. He was pleased to see that the darts had green flights, which meant they were tipped with a powerful aesthetic rather than a lethal nerve agent. This made sense, until five minutes ago the crew hadn't been on a combat footing, but it was still something of a relief. The Viscount had no intention of killing anyone, but in a pinch, knockout darts would come in handy.

Steadying himself against the wall as yet another wave of explosions rocked the craft Tristian turned and sprinted down the corridor.

-oOo-

Bunco leapt to his feet as the klaxon began to sound. "Don't move, Miss Sage - let me see what's going on." His voice was calm but there was no mistaking his note of concern. He scuttled around his desk to consult a bank of flat screens set into one wall of his mahogany panelled office. His face darkened and he moved quickly back to his desk. He waved a hand and a small grey globe levitated to head height, beginning to glow as it rose.

"Tris? Where are you?"

The tinny reply crackled as more explosions rocked the massive airship. "Deck Seven - making my way back to you as fast as I can."

Bunco's features wrinkled into a mask of puzzlement. "Deck Seven? You were seeing Stoici, weren't you? Why are you on the Detention Deck?"

"Long story - he sort of arrested me for treason."

Bunco shook his head. "For goodness sake Tris - I leave you alone for five minut-" Bunco's admonishment was interrupted by another thunderous series of explosions that threw Bunco to the floor. Ellie helped him to his feet and guided the rotund little man to a chair while Tristian's tinny voice continued to speak from the softly glowing hovering globe.

"Now really isn't the time Bunco - I'll be with you in less than a minute. Be ready to move, we're in a real spot of bother and we must get off this bloody boat."

Bunco winced as another explosion threw Ellie into his lap, her elbow striking him hard across the cheek as she fell. She struggled to her feet, embarrassment overwhelming her fear. "Fuck! Are you OK?" She grabbed Bunco's head and leaned in to inspect the bruise that was already forming.

The door slid open. "Sorry to cramp your style Bunco, but we seem to be in the middle of a war, old lad." Tristian stood framed in the doorway, grinning like an idiot, gun in hand, soaked in blood and sweat.

Bunco turned his head to face the door. "Oh do shut up Tris" he drawled, deadpan "I presume you have a plan?"

Ellie looked up from Bunco's battered face and gasped in horror at the apparition standing in the doorway. Tristian's shirt and waistcoat had been ripped in the battle with his guards, and the front brim of his bowler was crushed beyond repair and sticky with coagulating blood and cartilage.  But it was his face that was the real shock. He'd wiped the worst of it off with his sleeve, but his visage was still streaked with gore from the second guard's exploding nose. Frankly he looked like something from a horror movie - and the manic grin on his blood stained lips really wasn't helping.

Tristian stepped forwards, eyes bright with adrenaline and excitement. "Actually, bit light on the planning front just at the moment - short of the obvious 'escape from the exploding airship where I've just been charged with a capital crime' one, obviously, but I'm a bit flummoxed by the fine details even for that." His tone was light, and his smile broad, but there was something about his banter that suggested his mouth was running on automatic while his brain was otherwise engaged.

His gaze locked with Ellie and he registered her look of horror. He paused and his manic expression softened slightly. "Sorry, I'm sure I look a proper fright, but don't worry, none of this blood is mine." He winked and Ellie smiled weakly, trying to convince herself that this was reassuring news. 

Bunco, the bruise on his cheek already darkening to an angry purple, pushed himself to his feet and waved his hand a seemingly innocuous mahogany panel on the wall. There was a sharp "click" as the panel swung open to reveal a small cupboard containing two black backpacks and what appeared to be a massive pistol. He tossed one of the packs to Trisitan and held the second out to Ellie. As she took it, the room was shaken by yet another explosion.

"You two need to get out." Bunco's tone was clipped, all business, not a trace of emotion. "Miss Sage, whatever you choose to believe, you are important and we need to keep you away from harm." He turned his gaze on Tristian and smiled sarcastically. "As for you, well, once again you seem to have made yourself unwelcome." He grabbed the massive revolver in its gun-belt from the cupboard and tossed it to the Viscount. "You'll need this. I'm staying here."

Tristian began to speak but Bunco held up a hand. "You have to get her out of here, and I need to stay here to smooth things over." The room shook again. "Although if you could take some of the bastards outside out as you go I'd appreciate it." He grinned stoically gesturing both Tristian and Ellie towards the door."Now, the Kite is in the hanger where you left it. Bugger off."

Tristian and Bunco locked eyes for a long moment then Tristian gave a small nod and reached a hand out to Ellie."Come on." She looked momentarily uncertain, but Bunco motioned towards the door again. He smiled at her - genuine warmth behind the stoicism. 

"Go on - I'll be fine here, but Tris clearly needs to make a sharp exit and as I say, given your importance I'd prefer it if you were otherwhere." As if to illustrate his point, the room was rocked by another series of explosions, their dull percussive boom vibrating through the bulkhead.

Tristian thrust one of the dart guns into Ellie's hands. The long, slim black tube with its gently curved handle was almost elegant. He noted the look she gave him and gave a small grin. "Don't worry, tranq darts, nothing more." He patted the massive pistol now holstered at his left thigh, "This thing is lethal, but I have no intention of using it in here." He drew the second dart pistol from his belt and grabbed Ellie's hand. "Now come on!"

He dragged her into the narrow corridor. Educated by a lifetime of SciFi movies she'd expected a scene of devastation - steam gushing from vents, sparks showering from cables, people running up and down. In fact, if you ignored the pseudo seismic convulsions that continued to ripple through the aircraft, the scene was remarkably peaceful - not a soul was to be seen, no smoke, steam, sparks or fire. She was almost disappointed.

She jogged down the ebony corridor a couple of paces behind Trisitian, following him down ladders and along passageways, progressing ever further down and towards the rear of the massive dirigible. Finally she found herself in a claustrophobic phone box sized space with sliding doors on either side. Tristian held his left hand against what at first appeared to be a square of black glass set into the wall. He smiled nervously.

"I'm hoping they've been too busy dealing with all this kerfuffle to revoke my security clearance, otherwise we've squeezed in here for nothing. The glass square lit up and the words "ACCESS GRANTED" appeared in red block capitals. A set of double doors to their right hissed open and they stepped through.

Ellie found herself standing on a narrow ledge in a long chamber, almost all of which was taken up by the sleek tube like body of a small aircraft, it's wings folded into at least five sections to allow them to be accommodated in the tiny hanger. The craft itself was suspended from the low ceiling by two large clamps, one fore, one aft. Tristian ran a hand lovingly along the plane's glossy side.

"Hi Red. How's things?"

"All the better for seeing you, shift. I take it that we're running away again?"

The voice was at once metallic and feminine, with a clipped and haughty tone. It seemed to emanate from deep within the plane. Ellie gave a little gasp of surprise.

"Who's your friend?" Was there just a touch of hostility in that tone?

Tristian took hold of Ellie's hand and placed it against the smooth blackness of the fuselage. "Ellie, I'd like you to meet the Red Kite. Red, this is Miss Eleanor Sage. Please consider her to have full privileges until further notice. And what makes you think we're running away?"

The cockpit canopy slid smoothly forwards, revealing two seats, one behind the other. With a gentle electronic whirr the seats rose slightly to make ingress a little easier. Tristian motioned Ellie to get into the rear seat as he clambered into the front.

"Pleased to meet you Miss Eleanor Sage." Ellie smiled a bemused smile and waved self consciously in what was approximately the direction of the voice. The seats slid softly back into their original positions and the canopy closed over their heads.

"As for why I think we might be running away, shift, well, first of all that's mostly what we do, but more importantly, the Fuga Libero is clearly under attack." A note of censure crept into the metallic tones. "She's rather cross about it actually. I assume it's your fault?"

The sound of rushing air filled the hanger as the floor slid away to reveal the open sky beneath. Trisitan twisted in his seat to look at Ellie. "Red and I go back a long way, and she has developed a regrettably cynical attitude about my conduct - honestly I hardly ever have to run away from anything!"

There was a hydraulic hisssss and the two large retaining clamps began to lower the Red Kite out of the hanger into the darkness of the void outside.

Ellie chuckled darkly. "You are aware that that's pretty much all we've done since I met you?"

Tristian shot her a pained expression but there was something akin to amusement in the robotically feminine voice that replied.

"I see you have the old rogue's number, Miss Sage." The voice of the Red Kite paused as the clamps locked in position and the graceful triangular wings unfurled. "Now, hang on, we have hostiles on all sides and incoming fire, and my wings don't work at this altitude so be ready for a rapid descent."

Ellie pushed herself back into her chair and felt the restraints tighten around her then she felt her stomach lurch into her chest as the clamps released and the Red Kite began to plummet towards the ground. For a fraction of a second Ellie reflected on the fact that this was the first time she'd really travelled with Tristian without shifting between realities.

It didn't matter. As the Red Kite tumbled towards the ground more than fifteen miles below, she screamed anyway.