Chapter Ten: Escapes

Chapter Ten

Escapes

The Red Kite plunged Earthwards, the mile long Fuga Libero swinging wildly in and out of view, becoming ever smaller. Tristian craned his neck, looking for the source of the attack, but although explosions could clearly be seen buffeting the massive airship's matt black hull he couldn't make out their source. Of course the fact that he had mo stable view and Ellie was screaming her head off just behind him probably wasn't helping. He sighed.

"Red! How long before we can maintain stable flight?"

"We are just below sixty nine thousand feet - not quite enough for full propulsion but am levelling into a power glide now."

Even as the Red Kite's weirdly calm metallic voice conveyed her intentions the plane performed one final twisting loop before banking to the right and beginning a wide, graceful spiral descent into thicker air. Ellie's scream subsided and Tristian looked up again, but the Fuga Libero was now too far above them to be anything but and indistinct dot. He turned in his seat again to check on his companion, a smile that he hoped was reassuring on his blood sheeted face.

"Sorry about the tumble - Red here isn't designed to operate at ultra high altitude." 

Ellie nodded weakly, glad that she hadn't puked all Bunco's pastries and poached salmon sandwiches all over the cockpit, but not quite ready to trust her voice. Tristian turned forwards again and returned his attention to the battle which continued to rage more than two miles above his head.

"Red? What's going on up there? I expected some of the attacking aircraft to pursue us - where are they?"

There was a brief pause before the metallic voice replied.

"I detect no attacking aircraft. The Fuga Libero is certainly under attack, but readings suggest that the ordnance is being delivered from a different reality. I'm picking up a large amount of phase displacement activity up there."

Tristian was silent for a moment, absent mindedly running his hands over the polished chromium controls in front of him. "That's new" he mused, his voice quiet and thoughtful. "Does Stoici know?"

"I believe so. The Fuga Libero is preparing to shift."

Trisitan sighed. "Well, we can't function at that altitude, and there's nobody here to fight. I suggest we just head on home and make a plan." The elegant black aeroplane banked gracefully to the left and continued its descent.

-oOo-

George Mainwaring's hands flew across the polished brass levers and buttons set into the teak veneer of the console. Above his head a number of holo displays conveyed the visual information he needed to oversee the battle. He smiled thinly to himself. In truth, this was no "battle" - it was a bombardment, no, it was an annihilation. 

All of his forces were safely within Verisimilitude 1, the holo immediately in front of him showed six gleaming white Actuary Class dirigibles surrounding the empty space that, in Verisimilitude 607 was occupied by the Black Guard airship Fuga Libero. Vivid purple flashes lit up the seemingly empty space as missiles shifted from V1 to V607 an instant after being fired.

Other screens showed the destruction being wreaked on the ground. The rebels had been completely unprepared, and almost certainly didn't know where the attack was coming from. Even if they did, unless they were close to a portal, or had access to a vehicle that could generate a shift field there was no way the rebels could return fire. 

All they could do was run.

A small red light on the top left of his console began to flash. Mainwaring flipped a series of polished brass switches and the holographic display of the Actuary Class air-ships in V1 dissolved and was replaced by a view of the embattled black hull of the Fuga Libero. In spite of himself he couldn't help but admire the resilience of the massive craft. It had been pummelled relentlessly for nearly twenty minutes but it was showing very few signs of damage.

As he watched a soft purple glow began to envelop the airship. In response his hands flew over a number of polished brass switches and levers, trying to ensure that when the rebel's aircraft shifted his forces would be able to track it, but as the intensity of the purple light increased he realised that the phase displacement radiation caused by such an immense object shifting from one verisimilitude to another would overwhelm his sensors - like a human eye trying to stare at the sun.

He tapped his left ear to initiate fleet wide communication. "Attention all aircraft engaged with the Fuga Libero - they're shifting! Launch everything you have immediately.

The holo display lit up as the six Actuary Class dirigibles dumped over a ton of ordnance into the space between them, the intense purple light as the explosive mass shifted from the Auditor's reality to V607 and the location of the Fuga Libero was, for the briefest of seconds, brighter than the sun.

-oOo-

The Red Kite was some fourteen miles below the Fuga Libero when the sky seemed to catch fire. Tristian and Ellie both looked up sharply, the explosion bright enough to cast shadows inside the cockpit. Tristian's hands were instantly skimming across the polished chromium control switches in front of him.

"Red?" His voice was urgent, "Is the Libero still there?"

He seized the control stick and knocked the controls to "manual", angling the nose of the aircraft back upwards towards the inferno so many miles above. There was a pause before the metallic voice of the Red Kite responded.

"The Fuga Libero is not detectable." There was another long pause. "She was beginning phase displacement protocols when the explosion occurred. I am picking up debris, but not enough to account for a vehicle of the Fuga Libero's mass."

Trisitian shook his head. "But an explosion of that size? How much of the mass would have simply been vaporised?"

"Insufficient data to respond. I am sorry Shift. I do not know. They may have shifted, that is an equally plausible hypothesis."

Trisitian pushed the control stick forwards and levelled out the Red Kite's flight. For a moment his head and shoulders drooped. Ellie leaned forward in her seat and gently placed a hand on Tristian's shoulder. "I'm sure Bunco's OK, really."

Tristian growled. "You cannot know that. I can't know that, and I know what I'm talking about." His knuckles whitened as he gripped the control stick. His voice was heavy with disgust. "This is my fault." He banked the 'plane hard to the right and dropped the nose towards the ground. "George must've traced me to this reality. Stoici was right. I brought this down on the Guard. I'm responsible for everyone on that damn airship - if they got it..."

His voice trailed off. For a second his head dipped again, then his shoulders squared and his head raised. "Red - I'm giving you control again. Get us back to AS Finningley, as fast as you can do it!"