Wind Dancer: Secret War Steampunk Series - Adventure, Mystery + Mad Science (8 page)

The gun crew leaped forward to reload the gun, while Yuan
watched the ship come closer. Suddenly, there was a flash that blinded him,
followed by a roaring hiss like a thousand snakes. Yuan, still blinded, fell to
the deck screaming, his skin afire.

The
Wind Dancer
had fired its lightning cannon in
front of the
Destiny’s
bow, causing not only those who were looking up
to be blinded, but also creating a cloud of hot steam to explode over the fore
deck, scalding the defenders as it passed. The airship glided forward, turning
smoothly sideways as it came to rest over the deck gun. The Hotchkiss guns on
the side of the
Dancer
opened fire, their rotating barrels firing heavy
caliber rounds at a rate of thirty a minute, shredding both men and the wooden
aft deck where the Gatling guns were mounted. From
Dancer’s
open cargo
bay, Will, Saira, and her Tigers slid down ropes to land on the raised foredeck
of the sailing ship.

Crouching low as bullets sang overhead, Will started to low
walk to the relative safety of the rear guardrail, when his ankle was grabbed
by one of the still writhing gun crew. The blind man was screaming while
clawing to reach a sword on his belt. Will quickly shot him once in the head
for mercy. The hand jerked back, the screaming man going quiet as he died.

Reaching the railing for cover, Will looked left to see that
the rest had gotten to similar refuge. The only thing that had let them get to
cover was the Hotchkiss fire keeping most of the slavers heads down. He knew
though that they couldn’t wait here long, or the slavers could rally and
charge, hoping to overwhelm them with numbers. Saira signaled to him that they
needed to advance. He signaled back agreement.

With an ululating scream Saira sprang up, a green spark
twinkling from the twin horned muzzle of her rifle as she fired, the dry crack
of the bolt cleaving the air. Will saw one of her new Tigers, Ravin was his
name Will recalled, spring up behind her, his automatic shotgun booming as he
fired. A splash of light and smoke appeared on Ravin’s chest, followed by the
crack of a sparkie as he went down. Will cursed, peering ahead trying to see
the shooter. Hu Fans men did have electrics.

Saira glanced behind her as the young man fell. Her head
whipped back towards the rear of the ship, and then in rapid secession she
fired off three bolts, the cracks loud as a giant’s bull-whip, emerald muzzle
flashes strobing as she gave that piercing undulating cry again. Saira then
leapt over the railing with the rest of her team behind her, all of them taking
up her scream like a war cry. She ducked down again as the others fanned out
behind her, popped up to fire again, then sought cover behind the crates and
bales lashed to the deck.

Will signaled to his group, while drawing his Bowie in his
other hand. Screaming his own war cry, he sprang over the side, the others of
his group yelling and firing as they came behind him. He almost landed on a
slaver who had trying to been sneaking up under the railing. His knife slashed
down at a face that reflected the same surprise that Will felt. As the slaver
fell, Will flinched at the whistle of a bullet passing near his head. Snarling,
his gun punched a hole in a rifleman’s chest across the deck from him. Then he
dove for the cover of a crate.

What followed was a whirling hell of shooting, stabbing,
punching, and ducking, as the
Dancers
made their way across the deck of
the ship, pushing the desperate slavers back into the maw of the Hotchkiss guns
field of fire. Will paused behind a bail to reload. Shoving his knife point
down into the deck beside him, he broke open the breach of his revolver,
feeding shells into the barrel by feel instead of sight, all the while scanning
the battle with his eyes.

They’d come more than two thirds of the way down ship. The
slavers appeared vastly outgunned. There wasn’t any more electric fire from
their side and it seemed that they had no suits to protect from the deadly
bolts. The Hotchkiss guns roaring fire overhead was preventing any of the
slavers from reaching the aft deck with its Gatling guns, mostly the
Dancers
were being met with blades and gunpowder pistols now.

Will knew their advantage was about to change as his people’s
sparkies ran out of charge. He saw Saira across from him, disemboweling an ax
wielder with her twin blades. Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be any
coordination to the defense, which puzzled Will. He knew that Hu Fan was a
clever fighter, but his men seemed both confused and demoralized. He saw
another slaver turn to run, when a bolt caught the man. He fell, spinning and
twitching, dead before he hit the deck. Will still hadn’t seen Hu Fan among the
defenders. What was the old bastard planning, he worried watching for some
trick of the old slaver.

The main resistance left seemed to be a small group that had
pulled some barrels and bails into a barricade before a pair of ordinate doors
leading into the underside of the aft deck. The Hotchkiss had slowed to
sporadic firing, wary of hitting the approaching Dancers.

Will cocked his revolver, and leaned over the top of the
bail. He fired quickly, the barrels turning as fast as he could pull the
trigger. Three of the slavers behind the makeshift barricade fell as if pole
axed, the others flinched down. In that moment, Saira and Tikku sprinted across
the deck, vaulting the barricade. Saira with her long knives whirling like buzz
saws and Tikku with her fighting sticks in each hand. The two turned the
defenders into a knot of confusion, slicing throats and crushing skulls.

Cursing all damn fools, Will pulled up his Bowie knife and
leapt around the bail he’d been behind. Yelling, he charged forward shooting as
he went. His last shot caught a sallow faced man who had been about to shoot
Saira in the back. He jumped the barricade swinging, empty gun in one hand,
knife in the other. The three were joined by other
Dancers,
swarming in
with long knives and deadly intent. In seconds, they were the only ones still
standing before the doors. Will looked at Saira, as they stood among the
carnage, breath heaving.

“That was just a mite crazy, you know.” Hunting Owl remarked
to her. Saira laughed, flicking blood off the long blades in her hands. She was
covered in crimson, none of which Will assumed was hers.

“Not really Cap’n Will,” Saira smiled at him. “You had
spooked them right well with your shooting. Tikku and I just thought we would
just take advantage of the moment.” Will laughed back, as the other sounds of
battle began falling silent.

“Well, looks as if you were right.” Will allowed. He looked
around in the suddenly eerie silence that can sometimes occur at the end of a
fight. “Appears we got this one,” He observed unnecessarily. Saira nodded,
raising her voice to for a check.

“Everyone, sound off,” the Arms-Master trumpeted. They both
listened as every one of the Tigers shouted their name and how they were. Will
was relieved that barring a few wounds, they hadn’t lost anyone. Saira also
breathed easier when the last voice called out. She smiled at Will.

“Well, no batch of low life slaver scum is better than we are
any day, yes?” She clicked her knives together for emphasis. Will made a sound
of agreement.

“Don’t get too happy yet,” he warned. “We still need that
cylinder. Did you see anything of Hu Fan?” Saira shook her head, then pointed
with a knife towards the doors.

“Do you figure he is in there?” she wondered. Will nodded as
he sheathed his Bowie knife.

“That’s what I reckon,” he said. “I want you to take over
here and look for a cargo hold.” He reloaded his revolver again, checked the
load, and then closed the gun with a snap. “I think I’ll pay our host a visit
in his cabin, give him our best wishes,” he finished with a grim grin.

“Let me come with you,” Saira asked simply. Will shook his
head.

“No. I can do this one fine,” he said. “Secure the ship,
search for that cylinder. I’ll be back with you before you know it.” He flashed
her his boyish grin. She started to say something, and then merely gave him her
sharp nod.

“As you say, Cap’n,” Saira said. She returned his grin with
one of her own. “Be safe alright?”

“Of course,” he returned. Crossing to the doors, he looked
them over for some sort of trap or trigger. With a shrug he worked the handle,
discovering that the door wasn’t even bolted, and with a quick look back at
Saira and Tikku, he hefted his revolver and slid into the dark.

Saira struggled with her urge to follow him. She
knew
they were not clear of danger yet, her spirit sense told her so. Instead, she
looked back down the length of the ship. Dead bodies littered the deck,
thankfully none of them
Dancers
. She wanted to pause to sing offerings
of glory and the dead to the Serpent Mother, but did not. She had learned that
some of the crew grew uneasy when she did that, for some reason, besides there
was still more to do, especially if there was still more danger.

“Listen up you Tigers!” As the others raised their heads
again she began called out orders. “Tommy! Georgios! Tether the
Dancer
to the fore deck. Anyone wounded get back topside and seen to! Ravin! Tikku! On
me!” When the younger man shuffled over to her, she looked him over
skeptically.

“Go topside and report to Mr. Rogers, she ordered. “Say to
him exactly this: ‘Ship taken. Cap’n gone in search of the fat rat, still
searching for packet,’ then report to Dr. Wu to look at you.”

“I am fine Master Saira,” Ravin protested.” Let me stay here
and help.” Saira’s face turned stern.

“That was an order, Mr. Singh, the Arms-Master said. “It
would be best if you followed it. You took a full on jolt there. I warned you
to button it up tight! You are fortunate to still be alive.” She slapped him on
the shoulder, and continued in a gentler voice, “You did fine today Ravin, just
fine. Go take the bunk time while you can. Now repeat back the message. He did
so. She nodded when he was finished, slightly less concerned that the jolt may
have affected his reason. She had seen it happen.

“Good,” she replied, “Now go. We will discuss the proper
sealing of your suit another time.” She watched as the young man make his way
carefully across the deck. She had seen sparkie injuries appear from nowhere
before, the jerking limbs, the scattered thinking. She felt that he would
likely be alright. Tikku shook her head standing beside her.

“Men,” the other woman sighed. “Why do they always have to be
so difficult?” Saira looked at her sideways.

“Because they think that if they do stupid strutting things,
they have more chance of getting in our yoni,” Saira remarked dryly. They both
laughed. Tikku’s eyes followed the young mans’ back as he walked towards the
lift ropes.

“Well, I think that he has a good chance as it is,” Tikku
observed. Saira looked at her in surprise, then slapped the other woman’s arm
in friendly encouragement with a grin. They both laughed again. Tikku pointed
to Saira’s bracer.

“Could you not have called the message in on that instead of
having Ravin deliver it?” Saira looked down at her arm and shrugged.

“Perhaps,” she replied. “To be honest I forgot it was there.
Besides, Ravin needed something to get him upstairs, and this way I know that
Rogers will get the message.”

Saira looked around one more time to see that everyone was
moving about their jobs, checking that the wounded slavers were really dead,
taking up positions to guard the deck. They were good devils, the lot of them.
She felt the combination of tiredness and exaltation she always felt after
battle, but there was no time for that. The sooner they were off this ship, the
better. She
knew
trouble was still here.

“Come on,” she said to Tikku, “Let us go searching for this
tiny treasure.”

Will cat footed down the dark narrow hall. He’d met no one so
far, but he could smell the rich scent of joss sticks burning ahead of him.
Light leaked from the cracks around the door at the end of the hall, which he
figured was where his quarry hid. He kicked at the door. It sprang open with
surprising ease. He slid into the room and stopped.

Hu Fan sat on a throne like chair, wrapped in a silk shroud,
unmoving. His gaze was fixed on two boxes resting on the teak table before him,
his hands lightly resting on their plungers. The boxes had wires that led off
into the walls of the room. Will stopped cold at the sight of them, even while
his gun barrels on Hu Fan.

“William Hunting Owl,” Hu Fan croaked without looking up. “I
had thought that you would come for me yourself.”

“It’s all over Hu Fan.” Will said quietly, “Give me the
cylinder you took on, and you might still get out of this.”

The old man began laughing softly, “The cylinder is
meaningless now. Of course it is over. It was over the moment I trafficked with
demons and devils. I have done many things, but never have I cursed my soul and
had my luck desert me so.”

Will had no idea what he was on about. Slowly he moved
forward, gun steady.

“That’s as may be, Hu Fan. But I can still end your scummy
life right now, you know. You don’t have any tortured women to hide behind this
time.”

Hu Fan laughed harder, so hard that his shoulders rocked.

“Ah, William Hunting Owl, you will thank me for saving you,
you know. The only safety we all have now is death!” He looked up at Will, his
eyes blazing with madness. “The Demons are coming, and it is best we die now!”
Will shot him through the head while he talked.

Hu Fan jerked back with the force of the bullet; one hand
pushed down on a plunger, while the other fell away. There came a muffled whoop
as the ship rocked. There was the sudden smell of burning wood. The crazy
bastard had fired the ship!

Will quickly looked around the cabin, seeing a small fortune
in the furnishings. He spotted a large key on the table next to the plungers, and
scooped it up. Running back up the hallway, he burst out on to the deck, amid
the exclamations of his crew. Turning he saw the thick smoke that billowed from
the far aft.