The Wind Merchant (32 page)

“Hey, sorry about that,” Ras said to his new roommate, picking himself up.

“Did you come to rescue me?” the voice asked. The tone contained no traces of hope, yet no sarcasm; it merely queried for information.

“Wish I could say I did,” Ras said. “But, there’s no reason we can’t make each other’s escape a secondary objective.” Ras ran his hand along the smooth bulkhead. “Let me guess, your airship crashed too?”

“About a month ago, I think. I won’t tell them where it is. Pretty sure it’s what is keeping me alive,” he said. “Name’s Carter.”

“Ras.” He felt awkward not shaking the man’s hand. “Nice little trap they set. Did anyone else come before me?”

“A couple, but that was probably a few weeks ago,” Carter said, “I haven’t seen them since they said where their ship was.”

Ras pounded a fist against the wall twice, hoping for a response. None. “So, Carter, who are these people?” Ras asked, sliding over to find the next wall.

“Damonites,” Carter said.

“That’s funny.”

“Why?”

“Sounds like ‘demons’ is all.”

“Not far from the truth. They knock you out of the sky and drag you to the depths.”

“How do they knock ships out of the sky?” Ras asked.

“Everyone I’ve talked to had the same symptoms. Engines suddenly going out and set out looking for parts.”

“I’m curious how many pilots don’t make it past the pylons.” Ras pounded twice on the wall opposite the door. No response.

“What are you doing?” Carter asked.

“Looking for a friend. They might have her in another room.”

“Ah, good luck with that. What kind of ship did you fly?”

“
Do
I fly,” Ras said. “It’s based off an old Rytrap model.”

“Wind merchant, huh? Rytraps can’t carry much besides collection tanks. Are you Collective?”

Ras scoffed. “Please. I’m about as far from that as you can get,” he said, then immediately regretted it; he had no idea whether Carter was a guild member. “You?”

“No. Sky pirate?”

“Now that I think about it, that’s probably what The Collective—” Ras’ knee connected hard with something sharp and metal. He let out a cry of pain.

“Sounds like you found the cot.”

“You could have warned a guy.”

“Apologies.” A pause. “Well aren’t you going to ask about me?”

Ras finished rubbing his knee and navigated to the final wall. “Oh, yeah. Sure. Sorry, just…preoccupied. Tell me about yourself, Carter.” He wished he sounded more interested for Carter’s sake, but couldn’t muster it. “What kind of ship do you fly?” He knocked twice on the wall and waited.

“Well, I flew a Tropo-capable—” Carter began but two response pounds on the wall quickly cut him off.

“Callie!” Ras shouted.

A high pitched muted voice came through the bulkhead.

“
That
won’t attract attention,” Carter deadpanned.

“Oh!” Ras said, “I’m such an idiot!” He felt for the KnackVisions perched atop his head. They winked on, crackled a bit in protest from their abuse, then showed him the dull lines of Energy coursing through
Solaria
’s emergency systems. The lines running behind the bulkhead walls showed him his boundaries, and the faint glow of green goggles moved toward the room he thought contained Callie.
 

The guards entered the room and appeared to struggle with something. Muffled shouts echoed down the hallway.

Two more guards walked down the corridor toward his room. “Carter?”

“Yeah?”

“Tropo-capable,” Ras said. “Hold that thought. I think we’ve got a chance to break out. Two guards are coming. Hide in that corner, and when I say, rip the goggles off the face of the one close to you. Without them they’re blind.”

“Got it.”

Ras stepped back to the opposite side of the small room by the metal cot, ready to leap.

The door slid open with a woosh. One of the guards said, “Erasmus Veir, we cordially invite you—”

“Now!” Ras shouted.

One of the sets of green eyes jerked violently away from the entrance, and Ras launched himself from the metal cot, bowling into the other guard. He tackled the guard, throwing them both to the ground. Once horizontal, Ras scrambled forward and pulled the man’s goggles from his head. He clasped both hands together and swung his fists, solidly striking the minion and ending the struggle.

Ras donned the green goggles in favor of the KnackVisions and the world came alive in monochrome, now filled with a mountain of a man in a tanktop and goggles. Carter immediately dropped the upside-down guard he had been holding.

“Wow, you’re tall,” Ras said.

Carter shrugged and ran a hand over his short hair. “It’s nice to see again. Did he say you were ‘cordially invited’?”

Ras entered the hallway and found the cell next door empty. Dejected, he watched Carter stuff the unconscious guards inside it. He configured the two pairs of goggles in such a way that his right eye looked through the KnackVisions while his left looked through the night sight, allowing him to alter whether he saw the structure of the place or his immediate surroundings. Opening both just dizzied him.

He looked around and spotted the two bobbing pairs of Energy-powered goggles walking away on their level. He turned to see if Carter was following him. “You could have mentioned you were a wrecking ball.”

“I’m small for where I come from,” Carter said, easily catching up. “You’re smaller than I imagined.”

“Well, we can’t all be giants,” Ras said, turning his attention back to the two guards in the distance. They began rising evenly and started to mingle in with other sets of dots.

Ras and Carter turned down an empty corridor, heading unopposed toward the elevator at its end.

“So, where are you from?” Ras asked.

“Illoria.”

“I can’t say I’ve heard of it.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Carter said.

They approached the elevator door and Ras’ right eye told him the vacant elevator car was approaching. The doors slid open and they entered.

Unsure of which floor the guards exited, Ras looked over all the buttons. “Uh, let’s try Sub-level 8?”

“Try?” Carter asked. “I thought you were leading us out of here.”

“I’m pretty sure I mentioned I had a friend.”

Carter grunted.
 

“A lady friend.”

“Well, that makes more sense,” Carter said. “Just remember you’re not the only one that has someone to reunite with.”

“Noted.”

“Wife and kid.”

“Doubly noted,” Ras said as the elevator lifted. “Son or daughter?”

“Daughter. Less than one year old.”

The elevator ascended in silence. Ras didn’t want to contribute to another child’s growing up fatherless. “Then let’s get you back to your ship.” The elevator began to slow, and Ras’ right eye told him there were four sets of eyes waiting to board. “Uh oh. Wrecking ball time. Can you handle four?” Ras asked quietly.

“Going to have to, huh?” Carter asked with what sounded like a hint of relish.

The doors slid open and all four Damonites suddenly found themselves either on the ground or thrown against a wall by the lumbering wrecker. Ras moved quickly to relieve them of their goggles, then retreated back to the elevator with Carter. As the doors closed, Ras heard one of them calling for help over the radio.

They left sub-level thirteen and rode upward. Ras saw pairs of eyes mobilizing around the city. A voice crackled in over a set of speakers in the elevator.

“Now, now, Rastiban. I hold a banquet in your honor and you attack my minions? Hardly fitting, m’boy,” Dr. O said.

“Who is that?” Carter asked.

“The old coot that runs the place,” Ras said.

“Old? I can forgive ‘coot,’ but old? This is a two-way intercom, may I inform you,” Dr. O said. “I would advise not engaging in future acts of violence. I don’t care if you did me a great favor, you’ll not be enjoying the banquet if you do.”

What favor?
“I’ll come peaceably if I can guarantee safe passage for my friend,” Ras said.
 

A long pause. “I’ll change your reservation from plus one to two.” The elevator chimed and the doors opened, revealing eight guards in two rows with muskets aimed at Ras and Carter. Dr. O’s voice piped in again from the tinny speaker. “Now, will you be so kind as to grace us with your presence?”

For as dead and drab as the rest of
Solaria
had been, the banquet hall was opulent, well lit, and almost inviting. Paintings hung askew on the walls, indicating gravity’s true orientation.

Ras once again wore cuffs. A set of goggle-less guards separated him from Carter. Their white hair and pale skin would have made Callie in her basement dwelling years look hale and hearty by comparison.

In the center of the room, an ornate wooden table stood lined with place settings. The only dinner guest was Callie.

“Ras!” she said, trying to stand from her seat near the head of the table. She wore an elegant green dress that Ras only saw half of as two men behind her forced her roughly back into her chair. The guards seated Ras across the table from Callie and stood at attention behind him.

“Nice dress,” Ras said.

Callie gave a look indicating she was a little too frightened for banter and remained silent.

The head of the banquet table lacked a chair, and Ras wondered if they had been seated at the end of the table. The chairs next to both Callie and him remained empty, and Carter was seated half a dozen chairs down.

“Are you all right?” Ras asked Callie.

“About as much as I could expect to be.” She looked beautiful. Seeing her dressed like that and imprisoned wasn’t right. Ras felt his cheeks flush with anger.

Men in black uniforms entered the room and deposited trays in front of the three prisoners, the two empty settings next to Ras and Callie, and the one at the seatless head of the table.

The double doors swung open as two servers made a great show of the guests of honor: Dr. O’Reisenbraun in his wheelchair and a woman in a slinky black dress, the elegance of which was marred somewhat by her bandaged arms and slight limp.

“Dixie!” Ras said, and was reminded quickly of the roughly enforced ‘no standing’ policy.

“Hello, Ras,” she said in an uncharacteristically docile tone. “I’m glad to see you’re well.”

A server pulled a chair out next to Callie for Dixie to sit on. Ras was too distracted with Dixie to notice the long-eared, four legged white creature sitting on the armrest of Dr. O’s wheelchair. A server picked the small beast up and set it down next to Ras at the remaining place setting. Ras thought better than to ask why.

“There we are, Bartholemew,” Dr. O cooed at the small creature.
 

Bartholemew sniffed at the covered tray until it noticed Ras staring at it, then stared back with red beady eyes.

“I have to say I’m getting very mixed signals,” Ras said.

“Oh?” The old man cocked an eyebrow. “It’s simple, really. I disabled the ship that was bringing my long lost granddaughter back to me, and for that, the very least I could do was provide supper.”

Dixie looked embarrassed for what Ras imagined to be the first time in her life.

“So…Dixie…O’Reisenbraun?” Ras asked.

“Astrid, actually,” Dr. O said, quite happy with himself. “Astrid O’Reisenbraun. We lost her at such an early age it’s no wonder she picked a silly name like Dixie Piper. Astrid is so…”

“Regal?” Ras said. If the table were narrower he would have expected a swift kick from Dixie.

“Yes, regal. A fine name for a princess. Astrid.”

Dixie made a face that looked like she was doing her best to agree. “It will take some getting used to…again,” she said, half-smiling.

Carter just watched on from the other end of the table, sneaking a roll of bread from one of the bowls.

“Where are my manners?” Dr. O asked. “Bartholomew must be starving!” He clapped his hands twice and the servers removed the lids from in front of everyone. Bartholemew attacked the long orange stalks revealed before him.

Ras looked down at his plate. An ornate pistol sat in front of him. “Is this a test?”

“Life is a test, so, why not?” Dr. O said before cutting into the hunk of meat before him. “I will say there are some advantages to living on the ground for the time being.”

“What is this?”

You’ve never seen a Forcible Engine Rebooter?” Dr. O asked. “Of course you haven’t! I invented it!” He cackled heartily. “It reverses the signal I broadcast over this city that disabled your engine. I just repackaged it into something more portable.”

“I asked…grandfather,” Dixie said, choking on the word, “to spare you, Callie, and your ship for the sake of
Verdant
.”

“And when that didn’t work, she said it would be a suitable reward for bringing my dear sweet Astrid back to me!” Dr. O said. “I’m still on the fence about your Illorian friend.”

“Carter?” Ras asked.

“Yes, the brute.”

Carter spoke up. “I’m actually a cartographer.”

“Same difference,” said the doctor.

Ras noticed Dixie shooting him a furtive look while the mad doctor preoccupied himself with his meal. “So, how close are you to getting this city up and running?”

The old man smiled at the interest in his handiwork. “With the current rate of parts deliveries, I’d wager a few more years. If we weren’t so far away from the trade routes we could be skybound in less than a year! Ooh, what I’d love is for one of those Collective dreadnaughts to have a reason to fly over us…” He stared off into the distance, his mind full of some new scheme.

“For Carter’s release I could arrange that,” Ras said.

“Excuse me?”

“You fix Carter’s ship and I’ll bring The Collective this way.”

Dr. O laughed. “You’re pulling my leg.”

“Just ask Astrid,” Ras said, “They’re very inclined to have me and even detained your granddaughter once because of me. If they knew where I was, they’d come.”

The old man eyed Ras warily, then looked at Carter. He turned to Dixie. “Is he being straight with me?”

She nodded eagerly. “Oh, they definitely don’t like him.”

“Wonderful!” Dr. O said. “The Illorian can go then. Minions! Take him back to his ship.”