Defiant, She Advanced: Legends of Future Resistance Read online

  Once under open sky she cranked the wings out another several segments and the aethership, reflecting gravity waves now like a mirror reflects light waves, rose past the warehouse roof and other buildings surrounding the large courtyard. Finally above the constricting walls she eased out another few segments of the wings and the Profit and Luck accelerated even faster skyward.

  Careful not to go too quickly, lest the wind resistance tear the tradeship apart, Arla brought them out to the black of aetherspace in a little under an hour. She heard some movement but no yelps or howls of surprise from the passenger cabin as the aetherium coated wings did away with the gravity within the ship. An experienced traveller, then.

  Arla pointed the ship west, orienting herself by the continents of the planet visible through the thick glass porthole at her feet. The biggest aetherlane out of Eutheri was located just over the rise of the planet, where Port Otero had been built, its orbital railroad bringing ships into aetherspace in a mere quarter of an hour. She’d foregone that convenience for the anonymity of her friend’s repair shop.

  She rolled the wings out to their full length and angled them to catch the slight planetary current, which sent the ship skidding around the globe. As the land and seas spun below, she concentrated on the curved horizon ahead. She’d done this dozens of times before and knew what she would see as the aether transit point and wheel of Port Otero came into view. She knew to expect the glittering wings of dozens of other ships, swirling in a carefully orchestrated dance as they took to the lane or, arriving off it, lined up to dock. She knew to expect the giant glass beacon orbs, fed with oxygen to keep their paraffin lamps aglow and ringed with mirrors to reflect and amplify their light and guide ships into the port and its orbital railway. She expected, but always enjoyed seeing, the giant circular port itself, spinning by means of carefully angled aetherium plates to provide gravity to those inside, its curved surface twinkling through portholes with the light of hundreds of gaslamps.

  What she did not expect, was the entirety of the Imperium’s Fifteenth Fleet, laying in wait between her and the aetherlane transit point.

  Through her telescope she recognized the Fifteenth’s flagship battle cruiser, Authority’s Fist, floating darkly in the midst of a host of the smaller, but no less deadly corvettes and stingwhips that made up the bulk of the Imperium Aether Navy. Behind them she saw the station and the aether transit point, swarming with even more Imperium ships. Even as she watched, a stingwhip gunboat pulled alongside a medium cargo tug and shot out grappling hooks to draw the ships together for boarding.

  What could the Imperium be doing here? This wasn’t good. She had no local licenses, and after the crackdown… She made a snap decision, and was hastily turning the Profit and Luck even before the thought had finished forming. She’d take them through the transit point at Port Dranel, on the mining settlement of Eutheri’s fourth moon. It would mean a longer journey overall, since that aetherlane took a roundabout way to the transfer at Cyther that would put them on the correct ’lane for New Aureliun, but it couldn’t be helped. Better a longer journey than any issues with her passenger, and much better than letting tax-hungry Imperium officers aboard her ship.

  But it was too late.

  Even as she turned, the flash of a heliograph from an Imperium corvette ahead caught her eye. It spelled out:

  “UNIDENTIFIED… YACHT… COME… ABOUT… AWAIT… INSPECTION.”

  More flashes not aimed at her went out from the corvette and two nearby stingwhips fanned open their aetherium wings and starting moving towards her.

  “Tharn spitting zast drinkers!” she cursed.

  She had no choice now. She couldn’t outrun the entire fleet. With a grunt she heaved over the aetherwing yoke to slow the ship and turned the vessel to be side-on to the approaching stingwhips. As the ship’s momentum ceased she retracted the ’wings and in a few short moments they were floating dead in the aether.

  A rustling behind her announced the arrival of her passenger to the bridge.

  “Is anything the matter?”

  She couldn’t tell if it was just the low gaslight playing tricks, but the Carth looked markedly smaller than before as he floated in the entryway, his nose tentacles quivering in distress.

  She gazed out the viewport at the oncoming ships as she answered, “Looks like the Imperium is searching every ship near the transit point. But we should be fine, doubt they’re after us with a whole fleet.”

  There was a sharp intake of breath, and a new voice, not the Carth’s, said, “No, it’s me they’re after.”

  Arla whipped around at the sound and saw that the Carth floating in the doorway had been joined by someone else.

  Her Ellis cleared leather in the space of a breath and the business end of the revolver pointed, unwavering, at the stranger.

  “Who in the infinite hells are you and how did you—”

  The stranger, a human, cut her off. “They’ll kill you if you let them board.”

  “Someone’s of a mind to be killing, and you’re looking at her. Now answer me. Who are you and how did you get aboard my ship?”

  “I stowed away inside my friend here,” a nod towards the still floating Carth followed by a rueful smile, “Not the most pleasant method of travel.”

  “Inside—?”

  Again the stranger, a young man, cut her off, “Perhaps we can get into the finer points of Carth biology and Brood rearing practices another time. Right now I feel it is my duty to warn you that you are in mortal danger if they search your ship and find either myself or my good friend Ry’th aboard.”

  Who was this louse? “No, you listen planetpounder, you’re on my ship without permission or payment, and you’re an insufferable posh bounder to boot. So we’re going to stay here and I’m going to hand you over to the first Suppression Minister that crosses over from that Imperium boat.” She would have spit if they’d been in gravity instead of weightless aether. “I don’t like the Imperium, but I like freeloaders less.”

  His face was pained, “No you don’t understand. They’ll kill you for even knowing me.”

  “But I don’t know you.”

  “That won’t matter to them.”

  It wasn’t what he said, but how he said it, that gave her pause. He was deadly serious, and for the first time she noticed the little signs of fear that her father said always betrayed men. A timor of the voice, a widening of the eyes, a tremble in the hand floating by his side.

  “What are you, a notorious murderer or something? Did you steal the Imperator’s wife?”

  The man’s expression was grim, “Worse, at least in their eyes. I am a traitor to the Imperium.”

  “Oh, are you a writer too?”

  He shot her a quizzical glance. “No.” He shook his head. “But we don’t have time to detail my crimes. If you’re going to turn me over you must decide now.”

  Sparing a quick look out the porthole she saw he was right. The first of the stingwhips was almost within Fetler gun range.

  Arla’s father, Jak Lightrider always used to chide her for her impetuousness. He explained that carefully thinking through one’s choices and using reason to find the best course of action was preferable to relying on brute instinct. Arla trusted her gut more than he was comfortable with. That she was right more often than not hadn’t seemed to faze him and those times when her gut did fail her, it failed spectacularly. Like with the farmer boy on Elenel or the investment of all her savings at the tender age of sixteen in that traveling Yorak’s miracle tonic. Those times her father had let her make her own decisions, and she learned painful lessons. She hoped this would not be one of those times.

  Her pistol disappeared as fast as it had filled her palm, and she spun back to the controls of the ship.

  “Does this mean you’ll help us?”

  She ignored his question and gestured at the Carth.

  “Rahith, if that is your real name—”

  “It is not. I am Ry’—”

  �
��Get to the topside turret. Do you know how to operate a Pathlian two-pounder?”

  “I was actually an observer of the Pathlian navy when—”

  “Good, get up there and load it but don’t aim it anywhere unless I tell you.”

  The Carth floated back down the corridor.

  “And you—”

  There was the barest of hesitations, “Uh, Toren.”

  “Toren, how much do you know about aethership controls?”

  He grinned as if she’d made a joke, then covered it up at her withering stare. “I have some passing familiarity.”

  “Can you handle the starboard Fetlers and heliograph shutter?” She gestured to the console on her right.

  The man nodded and glided forward with a practiced ease to take his place beside her, the place she had occupied when her father was captain of this ship.

  Arla shook her head to clear the memory. The Imperium craft were close now.

  “What are you going to—”

  She held up a hand for silence, her other poised over the quick-release lever.

  The flashes of heliograph light from the oncoming gunboats were easy to translate, “REMAIN… POSITION… PREPARE… FOR… BOARDING.”

  There. They were too close now to turn around in time. She hit the quick-release lever hard, nerves making her use more force than she needed. The springs her father had installed still worked, and the aetherwings shot out to their full length in an instant.

  Immediately the Profit and Luck surged forward as the wings caught the aether current.

  “Do you know the heliographic code for a distress signal?” Her heart was pounding now.

  He replied quickly, voice taut, “Yes, I’m familiar with the entire heliographic alphabet.”

  She spared his face a glance. Few planetpounders bothered to learn that method of communication beyond a few simple words.

  “Send an emergency signal to those stingwhips, tell them our wings malfunctioned and are stuck.”

  “That won’t work for long.” He was already tapping out the message, manipulating the heliograph shutter with the speed of a practiced expert.

  “It won’t have to,” she shot back, as she angled the ship to head straight at the oncoming Imperium vessels. Louse.

  She could see the panicky bursts of light coming from the two stingwhips, and her brain translated them automatically.

  “CHANGE… COURSE.”

  “RETRACT… WINGS… HALT… FOR… INSPECTION.”

  Toren’s hand flitted back and forth as he continued to broadcast the distress signal at them.

  The Imperium ships were reacting slowly to Arla’s desperate maneuver and they began turning out of her path and attempting to change direction to match her new velocity. But they were too slow.

  The Profit and Luck barreled past them. They’d never be able to reverse direction and catch up to her in time. Now Arla just had the entire rest of the Fifteenth Fleet to worry about.

  She could already see Imperium ships changing course ahead as her tradeship shot into their midst.

  “EMERGENCY… WINGS… STUCK… REQUEST… ASSISTANCE… EMERGENCY.”

  Responding heliograph flashes lanced out from the titanic bulk of the Imperium flagship, Authority’s Fist.

  “CHANGE… COURSE… AWAY… FROM… TRANSIT… POINT… HELP… DISPATCHED.”

  Indeed, three corvettes and at least five stingwhips were maneuvering on an intercept course.

  “Tharn spit!” Arla’s teeth clenched.

  “I told you it wouldn’t work for long. Should I tell them the yoke is stuck as well?”

  She could have slapped him. “How about instead you—”

  “Man the starboard Fetler gun and be quiet?”

  “No, jump into the aether without a diving suit!” she bit back.

  She only needed a bit of room to maneuver. If she could stay out of Fetler range for the next few minutes she might be able to throw them safely through the aether transit. If the Imperium battle cruiser and corvettes didn’t open up with their big, long range guns, that is. Too many ifs.

  She angled the ship slightly away from the transit point. She was still on a path that would bring her incrementally closer to the point, but technically she was obeying the orders from the battle cruiser. Maybe that would be enough to buy another few seconds.

  The Imperium ships ahead of her altered their courses to match her new intercept.

  “Uh—”

  “I see them.”

  Another half dozen Imperium craft had peeled off from the main fleet and were also now moving to intercept her. If she could just get past that first beacon orb, she could jink hard to starboard and hopefully be through the transit point before the Navy vessels caught on to her intentions. Or, more likely, they’d blow her to smithereens.

  “CHANGE… COURSE… TO… HEADING… 5, –2, 7.”

  Hells. An order that specific was hard to interpret broadly, and the heading was one that would bring her farther from the transit point, not closer.

  “Let me fly. I’ve flown with Imperium ships. I know their limits. I can—”

  “If I hear one more word out of you I pledge to thork I will put a bullet through that posh mouth of yours.”

  He shut up.

  Arla leaned into the speaking tube, “Rahith, can you hear me?”

  The voice that returned was metallic and tinny, “Yes brood mother, I can.”

  “Is the gun loaded and ready?”

  “It is.”

  “Good, stand by for orders to fire, we may need it soon.”

  She wasn’t past the beacon yet, but the heliograph signals from the Imperium ships were getting more insistent. If she didn’t turn to the new heading they’d open fire.

  It was now or never.

  She made as if to turn and follow the course ordered by Authority’s Fist, but at the last second she instead swung the tradeship around in a tight arc aiming to go behind the Imperium ships and then straight on to the transit point. Warning heliograph light flashed out, as the Navy craft scrambled to turn and meet her new heading.

  A spray of Fetler fire erupted from one of the corvettes ahead of her, the incendiary rounds flashing across her path before being caught in the planet’s gravity well and arcing into the atmosphere.

  “ONLY… WARNING… ADJUST… HEADING… OR… BE… FIRED… UPON.”

  Arla waited another few seconds, then pulled the yoke hard, digging against the aether and putting the Profit and Luck into a steep ascent. More fire shot out from the corvette, and it was joined by several nearby stingwhips. The distance was still too great, however, and their bullets sunk to burn up harmlessly in the planet’s atmosphere.

  The tradeship rolled and turned, Arla’s evasive maneuvers bringing them closer and closer to Port Otero and the transit point. The Imperium ships were getting closer now too, matching her turns and feints. A shell from a larger gun whipped past the viewport, its burning phosphorous leaving an afterimage across her eyes like a glowing trinidian gash.

  “We can’t keep this up, you should—”

  “Rahith!” she bellowed into the speaking tube, “Return fire!”

  Almost immediately the Profit and Luck shook with the dull thunder of the Pathlian two-pounder. The shell flew neatly between two stingwhips, missing both.

  “Do you have a trill oil boiler?”

  “What? I— yes, of course. How else would we keep the ship warm in the aether?”

  “Good.”

  “Hey! Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to save us.”

  “Get back here before I—”

  But he was gone, already floating out of sight in the passageway behind the bridge. The bright corona of a nearby exploding shell brought her attention back to their angry pursuers. She couldn’t take the time to track down Toren. As she spun the Profit and Luck around, she hoped that whatever he was up to wouldn’t cause too much damage.

  “Tharn sucking toff.”

  The e
nemy ships were closing in now, despite Arla’s artful evasion. Every turn, roll, and jink was only delaying the inevitable. The net was closing. Her impetuousness was going to get her killed. A spray of Fetler fire from a corvette caught her port aetherwing, tearing out a chunk of aetherium panel in a burst of glittering shards and causing a noticeable drag on that side which Arla had to compensate for.

  Ry’th in the turret above continued to pound away with the Pathlian gun, and continued to miss spectacularly. His efforts probably didn’t even rise to the level of nuisance for their Navy adversaries. Arla managed to line up a lucky shot after a tight dive, firing the linked Fetlers to catch a stingwhip in the flank. She smiled with grim satisfaction as the Profit and Luck sailed past it and she saw the ragged holes in the cockpit.

  The transit point was agonizingly close now, but in between it and her were two corvettes and at least four stingwhips, and even more behind her, slowly but surely gaining aether. The corvettes were turning to line up a broadside of their big guns. She peeled to starboard. Imperium gunners were conscripts, like most of their military, but given enough ammunition even conscripts could hit a moving target.

  The shots from the first broadside all went wide, but the second volley came closer, and she yanked the Profit and Luck upwards. A shell from the next salvo cut her starboard aetherwing clean in half, and all of a sudden the ship was spinning.

  Frantically she rolled the crank to retract the first half of the port ’wing, equalizing the aetherium force on both sides of the ship. The spinning stopped, but now the Profit and Luck was practically dead in the aether. Her maneuvers to stop the spinning had bled off much of their velocity, and the shorter ’wings meant she couldn’t make turns or dives as quickly as before. And she was closer to the Imperium ships now than ever. One more good shot from them and they were finished. Arla fired off a burst from the Fetlers in frustration, even though they were aimed at nothing in particular.

  “Are we pointed at the transit point?” The voice seemed to come from far away.