Empire State (40 page)

  As the
Nimrod
moved closer, Carson reached for the searchlight control and the twin beams were projected out into the night before them. Rad traced the wide, white beams as they lit the misty air up in front of them. A few seconds later the
Nimrod
was close enough to the Enemy ship for the lights to splash against its side. Carson leaned forward a little and pointed at something.

  "Look, gas lines."

  Rad squinted, but had no idea what the Captain was referring to.

  "Remarkable," Carson continued. "The entire hull must be filled with hydrogen. Although that can't be the only lift. It must have an up-thrust as well."

  That answered Rad's question and another he had been forming in his mind. The ship did obey the laws of physics, it just looked weird. It was not the kind of ship any sane designer would actually draw the blueprints for, or that any shipyard would actually weld together. But it worked. It flew.

  Hydrogen. Rad knew all about that. The gas balloons of the police blimps used to be filled with the light, highly flammable gas. It had only taken two minor disasters for the city to switch to the heavier, but safer, helium. Rad wondered how much of the two gasses even existed in their pocket dimension. Perhaps it didn't matter.

  But if the Enemy airship was filled with hydrogen, it would make quite a bang when it hit the Battery. The size and weight of the thing was enough, Rad had thought, not considering the possibility of giant gas tanks. The mass, plus ammunition, plus fuel, would have been enough to level half the city. Add to that the gigantic hydrogen tank, and nothing was going to survive the impact.

  The
Nimrod
's front window was wide but very narrow, and with nothing to get a fix on, their target looked like it was hanging motionless in the air. When Rad glanced down at the controls in front of Byron, he saw two dials spinning, one slowly, one so fast it was unreadable.

  "We going down?"

  Carson nodded, but it was the pilot who spoke. "If we are to force a dock we must match speed and course exactly," said Byron impassively, then added: "Projected impact in four minutes."

  Rad gasped, and he was sure he heard Carson suck in a breath of air with somewhat more effort as well.

  "Captain, please tell me you programmed Byron with a sense of humour?"

  Carson stood and swung out of the co-pilot's chair.

  "My friend, I didn't programme Byron with anything, he's as alive as you or I."

  Rad waved a hand impatiently. "Point taken. But I feel I should point out that we're about to hit something very big and very hard in the time it takes to make a sandwich. That thing being the Empire State. You might have heard of it."

  The Captain barked a laugh, just a single expulsion of sound, and clapped his hands. "Then I suggest you don't dawdle, detective. Byron?"

  The pilot operated several controls in a quick sequence, causing the
Nimrod
to shake to high heaven for a few moments before settling. Carson's companion extricated himself from the cramped pilot's position, and through the window Rad saw that the Enemy airship had vanished. He opened his mouth to ask the obvious, but the Captain called out to him even as Carson vanished through the inner hatch.

  "We're locked alongside. We'll cut in through their hull and board. Come on."

  Byron hurried after his master, Rad dashing behind. Each time his left foot made contact with the metal plating of the floor, his calf felt like someone in very heavy, steel-capped boots was giving him a kick, but as the adrenaline began to surge the sensation faded.

  Grieves and Jones appeared at the other end of the passageway that led from the
Nimrod
's bridge back to the ladder that led both up and down into other regions of the craft. Carson walked swiftly towards them and swung himself onto the ladder and went down, followed quickly by Byron, the two agents and Rad.

  In the airlock passage, there was a small gap between the ladder and the rear wall where an access hatch was set. As Rad touched down on the decking, the Captain opened the door and led them down a flight of thin metal stairs into what Rad assumed was the main hold of the explorer. It was a large room, as high as it was wide, occupying the entire stern of the
Nimrod
. Looking at the framework on the walls and the floor, Rad could see how the space had been fitted out to carry a few large pieces of equipment, all tethered to racks that could be rolled on and off the ship with ease. To assist this, the rear and both sides of the hold appeared to be mostly comprised of large doors, which slid back like a concertina. Their structure was a little thinner than that of the hull proper, and the noise in the hold was deafening as the doors rattled and pulsed with the wind outside, the harsh scraping and banging mixing with the roar of the
Nimrod
's giant fan engines.

  The Captain drew Rad, Grieves and Jones to one side as Byron walked directly to the port-side hold doors. The servant reached up and quickly unclamped the basic clasps that held the door fast in flight, and yanked it open. The door folded into itself, opening a gap that ran along the entire length of the ship. Immediately the wind roared in, not just from their slipstream, but pushed into the hold by the port engine fan, which hung above the opening on the outside of the ship, tilted directly downwards to provide stationary lift.

  Rad was glad that Byron seemed to be following some preagreed course of action, as the exposed engine fan so close made communication almost impossible. Rad tried blocking his ears, but found he needed his arms free to maintain balance in the driving wind. Grieves and Jones had grabbed some dark webbing that hung from the wall, while Carson stood, leaning into the wind with apparent practice, watching Byron's actions. Thanks largely to his impressive bulk, the
Nimrod
's pilot seemed unaffected.

  There was some equipment still stowed in the hull – two large, cannon-like instruments, each the size of a small ironclad deck gun and clearly intended to be mounted somewhere on the outside of the vessel. Byron unhitched one from its rack and held it with the 'stock' under one armpit. The guns appeared to be preloaded at manufacture with something, as the barrel opening was sealed with some kind of foil wrap. Byron pulled a red cord on the seal and tore it off, then positioned himself at the very mouth of the hull door.

  The cannon bucked under Byron's arm. Rad couldn't hear it, but he could feel a dull concussion wave hit him in the chest. Byron was knocked to his knees, then dragged forward as the grapple hook and cable he had just fired found its mark in the side of the Enemy airship. Byron reached forward to grab the cable with his free hand and pulled.

  Rad saw the damaged side of the other ship buckle as the claw, which had penetrated its armour and then presumably expanded into a proper hook, yanked at the plating. Byron, on one knee, with one hand, tugged the two moving craft closer together. Rad watched Byron's arm bulge as he heaved, then leaned back to pull again.

  Carson had said that Byron was as alive as he was, but Rad had only ever seen that kind of strength in one other kind of 'human' before. The ironclad robots. He made a note to ask Carson about that later. If they survived.

  Two minutes passed. The ships were now less than a yard apart. The
Nimrod
's port engine shook in its housing as it was squeezed against some jutting structure of the other ship, out of sight beyond the top of the hold doors. Rad felt the floor of the
Nimrod
tilt slightly away from the other ship, as the two were pushed together and
Nimrod
's engine got in the way, forcing their craft into an angle.

  Byron stood, still holding the cable in one hand. He let the spent grapple cannon drop to the floor and roll away, and took one step forward. He punched his free arm through the armour of the Enemy ship right to the shoulder. A few quick jerks back and forth, up and down, then out, and the entire riveted panel came loose and was pulled free. Byron tossed it into the
Nimrod
's hold, then stood and stepped to one side, keeping hold of the ragged edge of the makeshift door. Although the two ships were tethered, the cable stretched and slackened, the two vessels clanging together in the air as they plummeted towards the city. Byron grabbed the cable, pulled it taut, then began winding it around one of the empty frames dangling from the
Nimrod
's ceiling.

  Carson turned to the two agents from New York City, leaning in to shout so he could be heard.

  "Go in first. You're both armed. Head forward, take the bridge. The ship might be empty, might not be. Expect anything. Go. Byron will follow, but he's our only pilot. Protect him."

  Bullethead Jones touched his gun hand to his forehead in a makeshift salute and the two of them ran to the gap between the
Nimrod
and the other ship. Braced against the wind, they hopped the ever-changing gap with no hesitation and disappeared inside the Enemy craft. Byron immediately followed. Carson held Rad's arm for a moment.

  "You can stay if you want to." The Captain pointed to Rad's leg. Rad waved the concern away.

  "Let's go. No point staying, this thing is heading for the ground as well."

  "Good man," said the Captain, who then nimbly crossed the deck and entered the other ship. Rad ignored his complaining leg and followed.

 

The Enemy ship was lit in an angry red that provided ample light – but somehow still had the close, oppressive atmosphere of total darkness. Rad didn't like it.

  They'd had it. Rad was sure. How much time was left? A minute? Less probably. Presumably the ship's bridge was close by, but would Byron be able to operate the controls? Wouldn't they be locked on the collision course, or something? And that was assuming there was nobody on board. Any resistance on the way would cost them any time they had.

  Rad saw nothing but red and black shadows and the curve of Captain Carson's back as he followed him through the narrow corridor. The old man was slower than Rad, who could have reached out and touched him with his fingertips. Their footsteps clanged on loose metal grating; up ahead, the heavy stomps of Byron and the lighter patter of Grieves and Jones.

  Then, gunshots. Three, a pause, then another two. The sound startled Rad and he slowed, while Carson accelerated towards the sound and sped away from him.

  That settled it.
Now
they'd had it. Rad, Carson, Byron, Grieves, Jones. Rex, Rad's double, locked in the
Nimrod
. The Empire State. New York City. Shazam! All gone in the blink of an eye and, Rad imagined, by some kind of giant intergalactic lightning bolt.

  The corridor expanded into a square room. Rad caught a glimpse of bulkheads, hatchways open and closed, shapes moving in the ink-thick red. Something large, black and rectangular swamped Rad's vision, and he pulled to a stop with a protective arm across his face. Something cannoned into his side, and he fell against the wall. His cry of surprise was masked by another gunshot and the shape moved away.

  It was Grieves. His gun was pointing at the ceiling, being held in the raised position by the huge gauntleted hand of the Skyguard. The two were locked in a struggle, Grieves's neck in the grip of the other hand. And Grieves was losing, no mistake. He was being bent backwards as the bulk of the Skyguard pushed him towards the floor, Grieves lacking the strength to fight against Kane's powered armour.

  Rad blinked, the red light flashing behind his eyelids, and looked around for Jones. He turned to the left as he heard a thud, just in time to see Jones throw a punch at another armoured figure. This one was as big as the Skyguard, and wearing just as much armour. The Science Pirate, Rad thought. With two armoured rocketeers to fight, he wondered how bad the odds really were. But Bullethead Jones wasn't a small man and he had been able to fell his opponent, who scrambled on the decking, but caught his heels in his ridiculously large cloak. Jones seized the advantage and landed a kick against the struggling form's side, then reached down and pulled him up by the neck, ready for a second punch.

  "Carson!" Rad lifted himself from the corner. The old man was nowhere to be seen. Jones might have been putting up a fight, but Grieves was outmatched by the Skyguard, and Rad wasn't sure he was much help. He limped forward and tried to lunge for the Skyguard's arm to relieve the pressure on Grieves, but with an injured leg he was a fraction too slow. The Skyguard lifted his elbow at just the right time, forcing Rad's grab to miss and connecting the armoured forearm with Rad's chin. The detective hit the deck again, although he managed to tuck his head into his chest to avoid cracking it on the hard metal.

  The ship shook, then tilted. Rad rolled on the floor, and saw Carson through an open hatchway, at the end of another corridor. The ship rolled again, in the opposite direction. Beyond Carson, a bulkhead door swung open, revealing the bridge. Byron was at the controls and was trying to prevent the catastrophic collision with the Battery.

  The motion of the ship was enough to let Grieves get free, although as he used the yaw of the ship to push the Skyguard off him, his gun clattered to the floor. It slid on the deck grille; Rad didn't hesitate, and pushed off the wall with his feet and dived across the room, flicking the gun towards Grieves with outstretched fingertips. Once he'd gripped it securely, Grieves got to his knees, then to his feet.

  A third pitch of the ship separated the combatants yet again. Jones and Grieves fell against one wall; the Skyguard and his companion against the other. The two sides faced each other, concentrating first on maintaining a firm footing. Rad was more or less in the middle, but with both sides wearing masks it was impossible to tell who was sizing up whom.

  The Science Pirate pushed off the wall and fell towards the hatch that led to the flight deck, Carson and Byron. Rad called out, then found the Skyguard's hands grabbing the lapels of his suit. The Skyguard brought the winged mask close enough to Rad's face that he could feel his breath condensing on its cool metallic surface.