Pirates of Vallahar, Chapter 3

Chapter 3
The Blockade

         The next five days passed without incident. Juryrig released the slaves upon their request before he had even finished the repulsor installation. One of the girls lived in a nearby village called Orin’s Hollow and knew her way around Jannik Forest, and all of them were anxious to be away from Juryrig’s less than well-behaved pilot.
         By their fourth day outside Jannik Forest, Juryrig had finally managed to get the repulsor pads successfully installed, and his crew cut the balloon loose in an informal ceremony. The repulsor system performed as promised, and after a short test run, (in which Juryrig had stood the massive cruiser almost on its tail to the chagrin of his crew,) they made for Rapids City with six crates full of valuable automatic rifles secure in the Odin's cargo hold.
         During the long journey over Jannik Forest on the fifth day, Juryrig and his second mate Axel constructed a “crow’s nest” in place of the balloon. Once common in seafaring ships, it towered twenty feet over the flight deck just behind the wheel and rocked slightly, magnifying the minor course adjustments of the pilot. It would be a useful lookout post if they ever parked beneath the tree line, but so far few of his crew felt the need to climb all the way up to the pitching bucket at cruising speed.

         They were half an hour out from Rapids City by late afternoon on the sixth day. The sun was still bright and the air was damp and musty as the Odin sailed silently over the swampy Lakes of the Ubaries out in the middle of the expansive Jannik Forest. Juryrig and Axel climbed up onto the flight deck after checking the distribution node for the twelfth time, and took yet another nervous stroll around the ship inspecting every corner and making sure the skeleton was fully supported and unstressed. After almost a week, Juryrig was finally starting to get comfortable with the idea of not having a balloon over his head.
         "She seems to be holding together nicely," Axel commented.
         "Do you smell anything?" Juryrig asked with a worried scowl as he started across the main deck towards the bow.
         "Relax 'Rig. The hull is strong. Well built. It'll take 'er a couple of weeks to settle in, but these repulsors fit like an old boot. You were right about the configuration. She needs all the power she can get." Juryrig watched the treetops sail by below them as he looked over the prow. The Odin had never traveled this fast before, gliding on an invisible, ill-understood repulsor field. For that matter, neither had he. It was both frightening and exhilarating. Even flying out over the Ubaries, it took less than two days to get to Rapids City. Juryrig thought in amazement. No more week long trips between territories, that’s for sure.
         The young man surveyed the marshy expanse of the Ubaries spread out before them. The swampy lakes were relatively uncharted and Juryrig was purposely taking a route that was seldom used in order to avoid unwanted attention. The last thing he needed to do was to leave The Death Mark a trail of eyewitnesses. The massive Odin was quite conspicuous and well-known as it was. The news of its conversion to a repulsor ship would spread quickly. He watched as groves of taller, thicker trees characteristic of Jannik Forest went by in occasional patches below, his pilot making appropriate altitude adjustments. While the repulsor pads had given them an enormous and much needed speed and maneuverability boost, he still found the absence of the huge balloon above his head to be a little disquieting when he watched the dangerous canopy of branches and the occasional deep lakes pass in a blur below.
         "Well, you were right too," Juryrig finally said to his mechanic. "We've got less than a year and our little power core will be nothing more than a two hundred pound paper weight." Juryrig started to unbutton his jacket in the warm wind as he looked gravely at Axel. Galloway was at the helm. Juryrig had reluctantly decided, with a little assistance from his first mate, that training his crew on how to fly a repulsor powered ship took priority over his own desire to put the poor ship through maneuvers no battle cruiser should ever have to go through, so he ordered his best pilot to helm the trip to Rapids City. This seemed to be the only thing that could cheer the sailor up after the departure of the slave girls.
         "Do you think we can somehow find a way to refuel or recharge the node?" asked Axel.
         "I don’t see how. The power seems to go out through repulsor pads or it doesn't go out at all." Juryrig turned as footsteps approached them from behind. Vixie had come up from below deck and, noticing the two men, made her way down to the bow.
         "I can’t get used to this open sky," she remarked to them. "It feels like we’re going to fall into the lake any minute."
         "Don’t worry Vix," Juryrig reassured her with a dry smile. "We're in no danger of dropping out of the sky for at least a few months."
         "Well, something's wrong..." She shivered despite the humid swamp wind whipping across the deck tugging at her thin shirt and baggy pants. Now she wished she hadn't left her flight jacket below. She leaned over the prow and watched the cypress and juniper trees sail by. "Have you checked the node lately? I keep smelling smoke."
         "We just checked it!" Axel protested.
         "I think I can smell it too..." Juryrig said worriedly.
         "Ah for cryin’ out..." The mechanic shook his head in exaggerated frustration as he turned around and headed for the hatch. "I'll go check it again, then..."

         The massive wooden cruiser shot quietly over the forest canopy towards the infamous Rapids City, the branches swaying in the wake of the passing behemoth. High in the treetops, compound eyes watched the ship's passing through a pair of modified binoculars. After a moment, the tree seemed to give an audible click, and something green and twiggy behind the leaves scurried down the trunk. A few more clicks sounded in the distance and somewhere deep in the trees the quiet thrum of an airship's repulsors suddenly hummed to life.

         "There!" Vixie cried suddenly, pointing at the horizon ahead. Juryrig followed her gaze. On the horizon, a distant cloud of black smoke hung over what was supposed to be Rapids City.
         "A battle!" Juryrig exclaimed. Vixie had already produced a pair of cloth-wrapped, beat up binoculars. "Can you see anything?" he asked. "Any ships?"
         "We’re still too far away," she said. After a moment, she turned and dashed for the newly constructed crow's nest. Juryrig followed.
         "Smoke ahead, boss," Galloway belatedly reported as Juryrig and Vixie climbed onto the flight deck. The few crewmembers on the deck turned to look.
         "General quarters! Hold your course until we can get a good look at whoever it is," Juryrig ordered as Vixie fearlessly made her way up the swaying wooden pole. A brawny crewmember grabbed him by the arm worriedly.
         "'Rig, if we can see them, they can see us." Juryrig put a hand on the man's solid shoulder.
         "Relax, Bruiser! We can outrun the fastest Death Mark cruisers with these new repulsors. Whoever they are, from this distance we'd be in Vaspur before they could get into firing range." Bruiser watched worriedly as Juryrig climbed up the mast to join Vixie in the crow's nest. Galloway and Bruiser exchanged anxious glances as the rest of the hands headed for the gun deck. If Rapids City was really under attack, it probably wasn’t going to be by pirates...
         "What do you make of it?" Juryrig asked as he squeezed alongside Vixie in the wind-whipped bucket high above the flight deck.
         "Doesn't look like there are any ships left. At least none in the air." She handed him the binocs. Juryrig scowled as he brushed her long, whipping hair out of his face and peered through the binoculars. The city had been bombarded, that much was obvious. There was far too much smoke to determine how much of it was still intact. Juryrig's heart quickened as he began to assess his options. He couldn't afford to risk the Vaspur run. He had to get to the city. A few "high odds" pirate raids or blockade runs here and there his crew could handle with ease, but none of them were looking to participate in an actual battle.
         "Whoever they were they're either gone or on the ground." Juryrig lowered the binoculars. Vixie took them back and scanned the horizon behind them, looking for any signs of fleeing ships.
         "I can’t believe The Death Mark could've tracked us here already!" she exclaimed worriedly. "Or that they'd have the gonads to take on the Rapids City militia. You’re not that important..."
         "They didn’t..." Juryrig’s voice was strained. Vixie lowered her binocs and looked over at him. His face had gone pale.
         "What?" She turned and followed his gaze over her shoulder. Four huge patchwork balloons had suddenly parted the treetops not a mile in front of them and raised four large, unmistakably dark brown battleships into the air directly in their path.

         "Stags...!" The crow's nest twisted and sank below them, tilting wildly away from stag ships rising out of the forest as Galloway spun the wheel crazily.
         "Hang on!" Juryrig shouted unnecessarily to Vixie as the Odin banked sharply away from the sudden flotilla of cruisers blocking her course. Vixie and Juryrig clung for their lives around the mast and the guardrail respectively; their legs swinging out high above the twisting greenery a hundred feet below as the crow's nest careened towards the horizontal. The Odin veered one hundred eighty degrees and then slowly straightened out for a speedy getaway. As the tall mast righted itself and Juryrig regained his footing, he noticed suddenly that Galloway had stopped accelerating. He looked ahead as the wind began to die down to see five more airships rising like gargantuan bumblebees out of the forest canopy to the west boxing them in. His heart sank.
         "It was a trap!" Vixie exclaimed. Juryrig immediately scrambled down the mast followed closely by his first mate. The stag battleships were quite large. Almost the size of the Odin. They were otherwise identical to human airships save that they were constructed from the dark brown, super-hard ebonwood trees that grew in the east, and were therefore easily recognized by their dark color. As the Odin began to slow and bank, looking for a way out, They formed a wide spiral around her and began to cautiously close in, guns at the ready.
         "Full stop!" he ordered Galloway as he jumped to the flight deck. "All hands on deck!" The pilot pulled the throttle back and the Odin began to drift to a stop, as the gunners all made their way back onto the main deck, looking pale and shaken.
         "Are you insane?!" Vixie yelled at him from the ladder. "We can’t just give ourselves up!"
         "What do you suggest I do?!" Juryrig snapped as Vixie jumped down. "They got us surrounded at treetop altitude! If we try to run for it any one of 'em will rip us to pieces the second we get within gun range, no matter how fast we are." Vixie looked at him strangely for a moment. She responded by walking over and grabbing a nearby push broom.
         "Well, I don’t care what you do, but I’m not going down without a fight." She planted her foot on the broom and snapped the handle off at the base. "I'm ready to lambaste a few stag heads!"
         "Would you just hold on a minute!" Juryrig growled in frustration as the remaining crewmembers began to appear on deck. He needed time to think. To plan. He scanned the approaching carousel of ships. They were all destroyers and heavily armed. Save for their much darker brown hulls, they were almost indistinguishable from typical human airships, but most veteran sailors still agreed that there was something vaguely alien about them. Eight of the nine ships had huge patchwork balloons holding them afloat, and many were scored with bullet holes and repaired cannon blasts indicating to Juryrig that this was an isolated frontier task force, as most warships in the stag armada were already repulsor powered. This far northwest, repulsors were far rarer. The Royal Stag Armada officially didn't negotiate or communicate at all with humans in the west, but there were stories that isolated convoys out in the wilderness were sometimes greedy and corrupt, and could be parleyed with. While Juryrig didn't necessarily believe these stories, he couldn't help wondering what this particular group was doing. They were clearly attempting to capture the Odin, not attack her.
         What was obviously the flagship of the stag flotilla was much newer and had seen noticeably less action than the rest of the fleet. It cruised in smoothly and quickly on repulsors and had pulled up next to the Odin long before any of the others, its port guns pointed threateningly at her deck. She was in a merchant's attitude; facing the opposite direction and floating slightly higher than the Odin so that she had plain view of the humans on the deck. This was considered a slightly vulnerable position for a repulsor ship, and suggested that the stags intended to board the Odin rather than engage it.
         By now, the rest of Juryrig's crew had gathered on the main deck of the Odin, gazing worriedly at their circling captors. Juryrig was glad he had the whole crew on deck. The stags were less likely to open fire if they could see that his guns weren't manned, and Juryrig didn't want to risk any damage to his new repulsors.
Juryrig had run the occasional stag blockade, but facing a boarding party of stag warriors was something he never imagined he'd have to worry about. Stags didn't usually take prisoners. They preferred to let their cannons do the talking, and most of the time that was all right by him. But most of the time he didn't get caught with his pants down by an entire invasion force. He might have been lucky to still be alive, but he wasn't so sure. He watched the drifting flagship intently, too afraid to go find his pistol. He felt that as soon as he took his eyes off that ship it'd be all over. He'd forgotten where he left it anyway.
         "What're we gonna do captain?" asked Axel with hard eyes. Bruiser turned to the mechanic in panic induced rage.
         "What do you mean 'what're we gonna do?' We're gonna die, that's what! We're fucked!"
         "That's right!" Juryrig shouted angrily at the both of them. "We are fucked. And we have about ninety seconds to unfuck ourselves. Okay boys, what are our options?" he said to his officers, and without waiting for a reply, he answered, "We can gun it and hope we can get through an armed blockade without getting our ass blasted wide open, or we can notice that they haven't opened fire, keep our eyes peeled, and just see what the hell they want with us..." He turned to the rest of his frightened crew gathered on the main deck before his mates could voice their skepticism of this analysis. "All right! If they'd wanted a fight, we'd be spread out all over the Ubaries by now. This is a trap, not necessarily an attack. They knew a ship would be coming to the aid of the city, and we're it. They got us right where they want us. Obviously they're looking for something, so everybody just keep your heads on straight and I'll find a way to tell 'em whatever it is they want to hear." He pulled nervously on his open jacket. Stag pirates were rare but not unheard of. He didn’t have to wonder whether or not he’d surrender his cargo. Not only would Vixie kill him if he supplied arms to the stags, he’d probably die of grief at the loss of that much capital.
         Juryrig had seen stags before, but most of his crew hadn't. At least not face to face. Juryrig was one of the very few people these days to have ever learned the stag language. Scholars had learned it in the past but so few people could even read their own language anymore, and any kind of cooperation or parley with the stags was such an antiquated notion, that it was all but forgotten to most humans. Even militias usually didn't bother with translators nowadays. They were functionally useless. Until today, it seemed.
         Juryrig stepped cautiously down onto the main deck and casually walked towards the bow in the direction of the motionless stag capital ship sitting above and off to starboard, followed closely by Vixie tightly gripping her broomstick handle. Though she'd seen a stag or two in her day, she never got used to them. No one did. They would always be unearthly monsters to humans no matter how long they called the Earth their home. After a long, uncomfortable moment, the alien ship began to slowly drift in towards the Odin's deck. The six cannons were painfully obvious as they covered the vulnerable human bodies. The eyes of the hideous monsters could almost be seen gleaming dully in the darkness behind the iron artillery. Juryrig shot a glance at Vixie, feeling like a naked baby surrounded by wolves.
         "Next time I feel like taking a shortcut through the Ubaries, hang me by my ankles from the masthead until the urge passes."
         Before the lower deck of the stag ship had sunk to the level of the Odin's for boarding, six green, spindly creatures appeared over her gunwhale, jumped twenty feet from the deck of the smaller ship, and landed lightly on the wooden planks of the human vessel right in front of Juryrig.
         The stags were six-foot tall insects astonishingly similar to the praying mantis found on Earth. Their heads were triangular and they had two oval shaped eyes and small mandibles for mouths. Their two long, multi-jointed upper arms ended in three-fingered hands with an opposable thumb. They stood mostly upright on four skinny, evenly spaced legs and all brandished wicked looking blades and spears. They wore no clothing save belts, holsters, and scabbards around their thoraxes for their respective weapons, though one of the stags also had what looked like a bullwhip hooked to its belt. This stag was apparently the leader as it stepped forward creepily as if to address the tall human meeting its gaze. The two nearest humans seemed to be the only ones who had no fear of the unnaturally large mantis. Its head bobbed and its mandibles clicked as it spoke in a harsh, horrible language.
         "<You are the one called Jer'rig. The Queen has heard much about you. She sends gratitude for your reacquisition of some of her stolen goods. You will surrender yourself, your crew, and your vessel to this fleet and the lives of your crew will be spared. Do you understand?>" the creature buzzed in its own language. The man paused for a long moment.
         "Why don’t you push on down the road, skinny. We’re not looking for trouble, and I really don't have any cargo worth your time. Thanks for understanding." Juryrig stared coldly into the creature’s dull, reddish-brown insect eyes knowing that it's non-mammalian brain wouldn’t be able to process his ridiculous response in the face of such a disadvantage. Vixie squeezed her staff in apprehension and wished Juryrig wouldn't be so damned cocky when he had absolutely no leverage and no plan. The stag cocked its head and clicked in some imperceptible emotion.
         "<Irrelevant. You must comply or you will be forced to comply and your crew will be neutralized.>"
         "Tell you what. I'm a charitable guy. Let me take my crew to whatever's left of Rapids City." Juryrig spoke defiantly in the human tongue, knowing that most stags understood it perfectly. "We'll let them off there first and then you can have what you want." He could sense Vixie fidget uneasily behind him. She didn't understand the stag language, so he purposely omitted what exactly it was the stags were after. He didn't believe for one minute that the stag Queen merely wanted her repulsors back. She was after him for some reason, and she wanted him alive. Without the danger to crew as leverage over him, he suspected he'd be able to escape. He just had to get Vixie and the others to safety. Several other stags clicked and hissed menacingly. The leader stag's head twitched as it took in the words.
         "<Not possible,>" the stag captain finally rasped. "<You all will be taken to the Royal Palace immediately->"
         "Let me land here then," Juryrig interjected. "I can drop my men off here and then my ship and I are at your disposal." Vixie grabbed him by the arm.
         "I don't think so!” she challenged, looking him dead in the face. He didn't look at her.
         "<You are in no position to parley!>" the stag scrawled in as close to anger as an insect can get. Several spear-toting guards readied their weapons. "<You will board our ship willingly along with your crew and you will then be taken to the Queen!>" The stag motioned with its large, greenish hand. The guards advanced on Juryrig. The crew of the Odin exchanged worried looks. Suddenly, Juryrig’s first mate slipped between the approaching stags and her captain, brandishing her broomstick threateningly.
         "I swear by the sons 'a Kail you ain't leavin' this ship with that man!" she hissed. The guards halted at her invocation of the name of Kail, a warrior hero of stag legend and a nightmarish villain of human history. Juryrig's heart sank. Here we go... Without warning, the butt of a spear swished out of nowhere and knocked Vixie's pole-arm aside. In a flash, a second caught her in the stomach before she could react, sending her to her knees. These particular stags were no slouches if they could disarm Vixie Bangalore. Juryrig caught the first spear shaft in his palms with a smack as it came down again towards her slumped back.
         "Stop!" he shouted as he grabbed his partner by the arm with his free hand. A stag guard expertly seized his arm and yanked him away, pinning his arms to his side with the help of another who had slipped behind him. Juryrig had never encountered stags this competent. He was a fairly quick fighter and he didn't even see them coming. They weren't just some backwater patrol. Something is going on here... The guard that had knocked Vixie down approached and stood over her slumped body.
         "You de'file the Stagakhri race when you ut'ter the sa'cred name of Kaildannodantin!" the insect spat down at Vixie in broken, heavily accented human language.
         "Klesh'ekk!" the stag leader shouted at her guard. "Jekk' tor paiit!" The guard slung its spear reluctantly, turned, and completely ignoring the wounded female still clutching her abdomen, reached for Juryrig's neck. A soft pink hand suddenly closed around the stag's chitinous right arm from behind, just below the elbow joint.
         "How's this for defiling the stag race?" Vixie spun the creature around and planted her fist squarely into what passed as its forehead. The guards all drew their blades as the stag fell hard to the planks. The stag leader backed away. The other spear-toting guard thrust its spear at the young human. Vixie dodged deftly to the side and side-kicked the creature, sending it flying into another. The rest of the boarding party advanced on her. Seeing the danger the female posed to their captain, the stags holding Juryrig drew their swords and prepared to cut her down from behind, momentarily forgetting their passive prisoner. In a burst of adrenaline, Juryrig leapt forward and tackled his first mate to the deck, rolling her out of harm's way as the stags converged.
         They rolled over in time to see the two stag guards get waffled in the head with an iron shovel. Axel screamed a challenge at the stag boarding party and swung the implement wildly at the momentarily stunned stags, holding them away from his friends. Roaring battle cries, the Odin’s crew snatched up whatever could be used as a weapon and fell upon the surprised stag warriors. Wrenches, shovels, hatchets, and pick-axes would normally have hardly been a match for an armed, trained stag boarding party, but in the hands of these reckless humans, desperation lent a little skill and an enormous amount of luck to the wielder of each makeshift weapon.
         "Get off me 'Rig!" Vixie said as she pushed her way out from under her partner and joined the clashing melee. By now, the stag flagship had drifted in even closer and a wooden plank was being extended across to the human ship. Already, armed stags were collecting on the starboard side of their ship, preparing to file across the plank to reinforce the boarding party and slaughter his crew. Juryrig scrambled away from the fight and climbed up the steps onto the flight deck, making a mad dash for the unattended helm, but he was stopped in his tracks by a deafening crack and a tight constriction around his throat. He grimaced as he tried to draw breath against the bullwhip that had suddenly appeared around his neck from behind. The stag captain began reeling him in and pulled him back towards the main deck just under the guardrail. Juryrig reached into his boot and drew his buck knife. With a swish he cut himself free and unraveled the rest of the whip from his neck. The stag stumbled backwards from the loss of tension. Wasting no time, Juryrig dove over the guardrail and down onto the creature, knocking it over and rolling aside. Juryrig raised his knife to harpoon the stunned insect lying on the deck. The stag rolled over just in time to catch the man's hands as he forced the knife toward its head. It was a contest of strength that the human seemed to be winning. Frantically, the stag floundered its thin, spidery legs until it got them positioned under its abdomen and, using the extra leverage, crossed the man's right arm over his left and kicked upward, sending him flying away. The stag leader back-rolled to its feet and drew a long, shining sword form its scabbard.
         Juryrig hopped to his feet a little less smoothly, but no less quickly, and readied for attack. The spindly monster paused and cocked its head at Juryrig. The man looked at the stag's sword and then at the seven-inch blade in his own hand. The stag rattled something at Juryrig to the effect of 'Bet you wish you'd stood in bed' and lunged at him. Juryrig swung downward in a desperate parry deflecting the sword with a clang. The obviously skilled stag followed with an upswing, sending Juryrig reeling backward from the force of the strike against his short metal blade. With a violent backhand slap, the stag finally knocked the knife from Juryrig's grasp and the man fell back against the starboard gunwale, holding his stinging hand. His mind reeled with escape options, all of which would only work if the stag had been holding a whiffle-ball bat.
         As the stag captain moved in to finish him off, Axel, with a pilfered stag spear in hand, appeared behind the creature. With a desperate battle cry, he charged the creature with the spear readied to impale the beast. In an astonishing display of agility, the stag back-flipped at the last second, sending Axel charging underneath it. Juryrig rolled aside to avoid being skewered by the wayward attack. Before the brave mechanic could yank the stuck spear out of the gunwale and turn, the stag landed lightly and easily ran the man through with its sharp blade.
         Instinctively forgetting about his very dead friend, Juryrig used the distraction to his advantage. Scooping up a pickaxe that Bruiser had dropped nearby during the fight, he quickly slipped around behind the distracted stag and swung the tool like a baseball bat. The stag pulled its sword from Axel and turned in time to get a thorax full of rusted iron.
         During the melee, stags had begun crossing the wooden plank extended from the flagship and filing onto the Odin to reinforce their rapidly falling boarding party. Though Juryrig desperately wanted to go check on Axel, he already knew what he'd find and if he didn't do something immediately the rest of his crew would soon follow suit. He dropped the dripping yellow pick and raced for the flight deck, ducking a swinging cutlass and body checking its gangly owner on the way. He dove underneath the guardrail and slid up to the helm. Lying on his stomach he grabbed the wheel and spun it frantically.
         The boarding plank fell from the deck of the suddenly laterally moving ship and the majority of the crossing stags either jumped back onto their own ship, or over onto the Odin. Some of the stags leaping for the Odin missed the deck and dropped into the Ubaries, trumpeting in fear as the great vessel wheeled away. On the deck, the grappling warriors flailed about to regain their balance as the massive bow of the Odin swung away from the nearest enemy destroyer... and slammed jarringly into the hull of another.
         "Shit!—" Juryrig breathed as his body slid sideways from the force of the crash. The port side of the Odin's bow had hit just under the port bow of another stag ship, throwing the brawlers across the deck from the impact. Juryrig threw the freighter into reverse. The hulls of the two vessels made a hideous scraping noise as the ships slid apart nose-to-nose, sending wood fragments and debris into the lake below. A huge scar was visible on the bow of the now drifting stag ship as the Odin backed away.
         By now, on the deck below there wasn't so much fighting as there was staggering to retain footing. As long as he could keep everyone off balance, he might be able to keep his remaining crewmembers alive. Sam and Bruiser were both down, not to mention Axel, and he couldn't see Vixie anywhere. They were clearly fighting a losing battle.
         Juryrig shot a glance behind him. The battleship to aft was turning about to expose its armored bulwarks to the stern of the rapidly approaching Odin. This is not smart, 'Rig… As he watched the ship approaching from behind, a stag leaped up onto the flight deck from the lower deck and bounded for the helm. Juryrig turned just in time and barely ducked a lightning-quick sword swing that severed one of the steering pegs on the wheel. The stag made for another strike when its arm was grabbed from behind and it was flipped backwards over Juryrig's first mate, who quickly broke its neck. He was about to make a smart remark when she pointed over his other shoulder.
         "Watch out!" He looked to starboard this time. Another of the ships had drifted in close and several stags were perched high on the guardrail swinging grappling hooks.
         "To hell with this!" he said and then shouted down to the lower deck for anyone still alive, "Everybody screw yer assholes to the deck!" Vixie's eyes widened as it dawned on her what he meant.
         "We're too low!" Vixie shouted at him, but it was no use. In keeping with his reckless character, Juryrig had mounted a ludicrously dangerous emergency switch into the repulsor control panel at the helm that he'd never expected to use. Naturally, he decides to use it the day after he installs it. She wrapped her arms around the guardrail in front of the helm and squeezed her eyes shut.
         The grappling hooks fell over the gunwale and caught on the rails. The stags had secured the ropes and were preparing to slide down the taut lines to the deck of the Odin. Juryrig looked down at the control board, opened an emergency panel, closed his eyes... and flipped the switch that instantly killed all of the repulsor pads.
         There was an audible groan a brief instant before the ship sank under everyone and hurtled toward the water a hundred feet below. Juryrig's heart jumped into his throat as his feet left the deck. He clutched the wheel with all his might, flipped open the emergency reserves panel and pumped the switch frantically, praying the pads wouldn't need to be primed for twenty seconds as they had the first time he tried to fire them up.
         Though they were technically in freefall for only a couple of seconds, it seemed like an eternity. The repulsor pads kicked back on with a bang and rapidly slowed the freighter's descent. Almost as soon as his feet hit the deck, Juryrig punched the throttle to full, both to get as much distance as possible between him and the fleet, now fifty feet above them, and so as not to give the stags on his own ship time to react. He hauled back on the vertical controls to keep the still dropping Odin from skipping off the water and flew below treetop level over the calm, and thankfully presently open marsh below. A dead tree floating in the water clipped the keel and broke apart with a twirl and a spray of water. Vixie relaxed her death grip on the guardrail.
         "I'll say one thing Juryrig; you're one crazy son of a bitch!" Vixie said as she stood up. Juryrig looked behind them. The repulsor powered stag ship had belatedly dropped out of the circle formation and was now racing after them at top speed.
         "All right old girl. Time to see what you can do with these new implants..." Juryrig said as he pushed the throttle to max and carefully checked the gauges. "When they figure out their captain's dead they'll start firing," he warned himself as he recklessly flew the biggest airship ever built twelve feet from the surface of the water by the seat of his pants. "You been around these parts!" he suddenly shouted to Vixie at his side. "Find me a foxhole to duck into or somethin'!" Vixie thought for a moment.
         "There's a long ravine just north of here... about a mile out from the city. It used to be a tributary of the Brendine River!" Juryrig adjusted their course appropriately. Suddenly they heard a distant boom. Juryrig spun around.
         "Hang on!" he yelled. A column of water erupted out of the lake not too far behind them.
         "They're firing at us!"
         "Thank you Vix," Juryrig said sarcastically. Vixie looked up ahead.
"There it is! Slow down 'Rig! Slow down!" Another shot from the stag destroyer shrieked just over their heads. Juryrig slowed slightly and pulled up. As he brought the bow down to dive into the crotch of a canyon dead ahead, he cursed.
         "That ain't a ravine! That's a rut!"
         The Odin sailed down in between the cramped rock walls and just above the small river cutting through the bottom of the granite crevasse. Juryrig flew way too fast and they just barely slid around a bend in the canyon, the rock walls shearing off an armor plate or two.
         Juryrig hoped to force the stag ship to stay above the ravine so that he could keep below it where, due to the particular cones of fire of both airships, the Odin would be in the stag ship's blind spot and she'd be easy pickings for Vixie on the batteries. But the stag pilot was obviously a veteran and knew the only safe way to avoid the Odin's guns was to keep her in its forward sights and stay on her tail. A puff of dust erupted in the wall of the ravine just ahead as the darker brown stag ship eased into the rift behind the Odin, firing potshots, hoping to get lucky. The craggy walls went by in a blur to either side of the ship as Juryrig concentrated with all his heart on not killing himself. He gripped the wheel hard and stared intently at the rolling walls of granite far ahead. Several stags on the main deck dove over the side, hoping to land in the water below rather than stay on board with a madman at the helm. He hoped his men wouldn't start doing the same.
         There was another cannon blast from behind just as Juryrig came to a sharp turn in the canyon. This one was followed by a tooth-rattling explosion on the outer hull of the Odin, threatening to send the ship out of control.
         Juryrig was sweating bullets as he rounded the sharp left turn. The cannonball had hit at exactly the wrong moment and Juryrig cranked the wheel and fired the braking pads as fast as he could. The stern of the Odin bashed into the rock wall sending the remaining crew and stags tumbling across the deck into the starboard gunwale and throwing Vixie roughly into him. He cursed as he throttled up again. The stag ship had gained ground as he brought the Odin back up to full speed. A shower of rocks and dust rained down on the deck like bullets as another cannonball blasted into the rock just ahead of them. Juryrig cursed again as a good sized stone glanced off the side of his head. "Dammit! I can’t shake this bastard! She's all over me like a gypsy on a gold piece!"

         Vixie wrung her hands in frustration. She wanted desperately to do something, but all of their lives, whoever was still left on this death trap, seemed to be in Juryrig's reckless hands. She had never seen him so terrified or so stubbornly resolved. Not knowing what else to do, she leaned over and said into his ear, "I believe in you."
         Without another word, she vaulted over the railing down onto the deck below. The last remaining crew members were trading blows with the last remaining stags whenever they could, but casualties were heavy. She glanced around, looking for some way to end this nightmare chase. The guns, maybe... The Odin had no rear turret due to the position of the drive pads and the cargo bay, but maybe she could manage to hit the stag ship out of one of the side ports during a turn or something.
         Up ahead, she noticed a huge rock formation arching over the ravine like a bridge. As she made her way towards the stairs leading to the gun deck, she noticed they were headed straight for it. Her eyes widened as the rock formation whizzed right at her. "Oh shit--!" she clapped her hands over her ears and squinted in anticipation of the horrible crash. The crew let out frightened yells and dove to the deck, covering their heads. She felt the Odin suddenly drop beneath her feet and she looked up. The rock overhang sailed just over the deck at an insane speed. She turned and watched the pursuing ship slam on its brakes, bank beneath it, and then come around again with cannons sounding. Damn that was close... He did that on purpose. Her heart skipped when she noticed that all that was left of the new crow's nest was a splintered stump.
         Vixie jogged down the steps into the ship and down onto the gun deck. With the crew all up top, the deck was deserted. She wondered if she'd be able to get any clean shots at a ship directly behind them. In spite of her doubts, she started for the nearest cannon bay. Before she could prepare one of the gun batteries however, the deck was hit and the wall next to her exploded in a spray of wood and smoke, sending two cannons toppling sideways. A broken two-by-four smacked her hard in the face as she flew violently into the stairs.

         Juryrig ground his teeth as the Odin took a messy hit on the port side. The stags were probably using twenty pound balls. He was going to have some major repairs ahead of him, assuming that he made it out of this alive.
         As he dove to avoid another rock protrusion, he risked a glance behind him. The stag ship was still on his tail, despite the fact that much of its armor had been sheared away by the jagged walls of the gorge. He ducked reflexively as another cannonball shot just over his head and blew out a section of the ravine wall. That stag pilot is almost as good as those freakin’ gunners! The ravine began to narrow and those tricky rock overhangs and projections didn't seem to be ending. There was a sudden puff of smoke from the side of the stag ship and, a split second later, the deck shuddered as the aft end was hit just below the drive pads. "That’s the third direct hit!" he exclaimed. He knew they were in deep dung when he seriously began contemplating a glorious suicide.

         Don't cry Vix! Vixie ordered herself as she fought her way back to her feet on the rocking deck. You haven't cried since you left Carrion Flats, you're not going to start now... Ignoring the unbearable pain in her face, she got up and made her way dizzily to the nearest cannon. She rolled the battery into the port and leaned her head out. Directly in front of her she could see the blurry wall of the ravine racing by ten feet from her head. She leaned out the port. To aft she saw the stag ship bobbing and weaving to avoid rock outcroppings. I better get my head in before I get my hair parted by a rock, she thought. But before she pulled her head back into the ship, something up ahead in the distance caught her eye: The Brendine Spire. A well known landmark not far from Starlight Valley, it was a gigantic, monolithic boulder perched precariously high on the edge of a cliff overlooking the river. They were about to fly right underneath it. Heart pounding in excitement, she quickly grabbed the cannon and aimed as straight up as she could and watched out the port. She carefully aimed low, crossed her fingers, and when the rock was just about even with the Odin, she fired.

         At this range, they’re going to start scoring every hit, Juryrig thought to himself as the smaller ship peeled around a sharp turn and gained even more ground on the bulky Odin. As he passed the Brendine Spire, Juryrig half-seriously said a silent prayer to the majestic rock formation. They don’t belong here, big rock. This is your chance to do something about it! Suddenly, the deck rumbled as one of the Odin's batteries was fired. There was a dusty explosion overhead just underneath the gigantic boulder. The shot hit the cliff face just under the spire, blasting away a surprising amount of it in a crumbling sheet. To Juryrig's astonishment, the massive stone rocked forward amidst a cloud of swirling dust like a great angry god and droped seemingly in slow motion right towards the Odin. He unconsciously dipped the controls slightly and spun around as the Odin sailed just underneath the falling granite slab. The boulder rocked downward towards the river directly into the path of the stag ship, momentarily blocking Juryrig’s view. There was a loud crunch and a spray of wood and the next time he saw the stag destroyer the bow was missing and it was doing a front flip over the falling rock. The boulder came to rest in several pieces at the bottom of the canyon with a thunderous crack as the dark brown half-ship hit the water upside down and broke apart, sending a massive spray of water and wooden planks hundreds of feet in front of it.
         Juryrig took a breath and brought the Odin to a gradual stop. He listened to the thundering echo of the great crash resonating down the gorge. They must have heard that all the way out in Pedimar. The last of the crew got to their feet and the last remaining stags either jumped overboard or were thrown. Juryrig sank to his knees and shut his eyes. The remaining crew did the same when they began counting the survivors…

*          *          *

         Ten minutes later, Juryrig powered up the repulsors and raised the battered ship out of the canyon. Vixie had climbed up onto the deck and, after dressing the many wounds of the few remaining crewmembers, joined him on the flight deck in the early evening light. Juryrig eased the throttle up to max and the Odin sped off west before the rest of the stag force could arrive. Vixie walked over with an exhausted half-smile. Juryrig's somber expression changed when he saw her and he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed, pressing her sore cheek into his. "Vix! You’re a genius!" he exclaimed as he lifted her and spun her around. She blushed.
         "All right. No need to get all schmaltzy on me!" As he put her down, he noticed the nasty red abrasion across the right side of her face.
         "Jeez... Are you okay?"
         "Yeah, it's nothin'," she said and looked away, making no move to leave his arms. The winding blue Brendine River sparkled in the early sunset far ahead of them.
         "So where does this river go anyway?" he asked as he returned his hands to the helm.
         "Looks like west to me..." she quipped. She gave him a sideways glance and a smile that usually cheered him up. Juryrig allowed himself a smile even though he didn't feel any better. He wanted to stay behind that wheel with Vixie forever and never venture down to the main deck. Never face the grim results of his grim lifestyle. Never see the cost of his mistakes. He dreaded landing as much as he dreaded staying airborne. He knew Vixie would pull him through it, though. He knew she would summon strength from some place only she had access to and handle the situation as only she could.
         Juryrig valiantly battled the choking lump in his throat and forced himself to forget, for the time being, all of his friends lying dead on his ship. Vixie put her arm over his shoulder and allowed her head to rest tenderly in the crook of his neck. He gritted his teeth as they gazed together like they had a thousand times before over the Odin's bow at another sunset over some forgotten wilderness. Now his friends: Axel, Bruiser, Pedro and the boys, would be the ones forgotten, as seemed to be the destiny of all humans. The wind cooled slightly as it blew over the deck and Juryrig pulled Vixie just a little closer.