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Chapter 35

They hurtled through the sky at a dizzying speed. On board Crocodile Ship the only indication they were traversing the better part of the globe faster than any human before them was a slight vibration.

Charleston and most of the crew were standing on the main deck overlooking the cockpit where Jacksonville and Sofia piloted them towards the South Pole. Savannah sat upright in her captain’s chair front and center, with New York to her right. Arkhangelsk stood with Charleston off to one side, while Dublin and Vienna were opposite. Madison stood closest to the cockpit, raptly staring at the sky as it flew past. Paris and Aurora were in the engine room monitoring the ship’s vital signs like a doctor would a patient. Ragnar had just left, muttering something about feeling pukish.

Charleston wondered how that was possible on a flight as smooth as this one, though the initial takeoff from Space Branch had sent his stomach whooshing through his torso in a less than pleasant way. But once they’d reached cruising altitude, as Jax had announced a minute after they’d launched, the only thing Charleston felt in his stomach was the familiar tingle of excitement before battle. Not that they were going to battle. But it was another competition and competition always got his adrenaline pumping.

“You’re bouncing,” Arkhangelsk said, not looking at him.

“What?” he asked, glancing at her and away from the wide peresilium glass that opened out onto the vastness of the sky around them. It was fascinating and beautiful, even if they’d seen nothing but a light blue sky since leaving.

She glanced down at his feet.

“Whatever.”

“It’s a tell.”

“Whatever.” He knew she was right. He should at the very least control the way he outwardly showed his emotions, if not the emotions themselves, but it was hard to care at the moment. They were flying, actually flying! Through the air! It wasn’t just some training simulation, like the ones he and Ark had used to learn to fly the small aircraft under their cabins. They were really doing it!

He still couldn’t believe Slive and the Planners had designed this last preparatory challenge so far from New Washington given what had happened with Orange and Purple Ships. True, they were being escorted by half of Military Branch, but it’d still come as a shock to everyone when Slive explained they were to fly to the South Pole in order to put their training into action as a unit.

“What’s at the South Pole?” someone had interrupted Slive’s prepared speech that morning.

Charleston hadn’t been able to contain his smirk watching Frog Face’s expression turn from its perpetual dissatisfaction to barely contained rage.

“If you’ll be so kind as to shut up,” Slive said through grinding teeth, “I’ll tell you.” After the red angry blotches began fading on his face, he continued. “We have designed a series of unique challenges meant to test each of you individually in the skills you’ve hopefully mastered by this point.” He put a special emphasis on his words that showed just how little faith he had they’d mastered anything. “As well as test how you work as a team,” he went on. “You will have to function as a crew, united and working as one, if you are to complete these challenges.”

And now they were nearing the South Pole, its rocky jagged mountain peaks coming into view from the deck.

“It’s hard to believe this was all covered in ice at one point,” Savannah remarked as the mountain range drew closer.

“I don’t think I can imagine it,” Charleston replied. “What happened to it all?”

Savannah sighed.

“Global warming,” New York answered before she could make a sarcastic remark about his aptitude as a student. “You know, the thing responsible for the Time of Troubles? Life in domes? Our Mission?”

“It’s crazy to think something as small as a few degrees difference in temperature could cause all that.”

Savannah ignored this remark. She was focused on the holoscreen in front of her and the approaching mountains through the glass. “The escort should drop back any moment, Jax,” she said. “Get ready.”

“On it!” Jax replied, the excitement palpable in his voice.

The ship angled down and its crew went quiet. A moment later, the entrance to a deep canyon yawning between two massive mountain ranges came into view.

“It’s time,” Savannah said. “To your places!” she commanded.

The deck emptied as all but Savannah and New York rushed to their respective positions scattered throughout the ship. Charleston and Arkhangelsk were sliding down twin ladders to the lower deck when the ship suddenly lurched to the right and sharply up. The abrupt motion slammed him into the ladder and nearly caused him to lose his grip. He felt a strange jolt, almost like a vibration, course through the entire ship. Then they were descending at a sharp angle.

“What the hell was that?!” he shouted as he slid the rest of the way to the bottom and dashed to his cabin. Were they being attacked by Jedidiah and the stolen ships?

“Gunners!” Savannah’s voice sounded. Her captain’s chair allowed her to address the entire ship or individual stations as she saw fit. “We need you in your places yesterday!”

As Charleston dropped into the aircraft beneath his cabin, he discarded the thought. Savannah sounded too calm for this not to be part of the mission.

“What happened? Why the hell did we just do a flip?” he asked once he’d settled in. Each station could also communicate with the deck and each other.

“It’s called evasive maneuvers,” Jax replied curtly. “That’s what you do when someone shoots at you.”

“Charleston,” Savannah’s voice cut in before he could respond, and her tone was enough to stop further questions.

Now that Charleston was in his own craft, which was attached to a nook in the bottom front of Crocodile Ship, he again had a view of the South Pole and the canyon they were rapidly approaching. He also saw Gold Ship, now called Boar Ship, zooming around a sharp bend in the narrow gorge well ahead of them. Bear Ship and Shark Ship, Gala’s ship, were close behind. “Did they shoot at us?” Charleston asked.

“Gunners!” Savannah shouted, her voice cascading through the ship. “Get ready to return fire!”

Savannah had briefed them as a group about what little she knew of this challenge before they’d disembarked. It was a race they could win only as a team. She hadn’t said anything about being able to shoot your competition before the race even started.

They were in the canyon now. Its steep walls blocked out the sun, making it feel like dusk. Jax navigated the twists and turns of the narrow space with expertise. Every so often when there was a straight stretch, the ships that had passed them came into view in the distance.

They’d just careened around a particularly nasty turn and into an extremely narrow path that lazily zigged and zagged when a mass of boulders dislodged from their spot on the canyon cliff just ahead. It was surreal. One moment they were a seamless part of the rock face, the next they were silently tumbling towards the ship.

As Charleston watched in growing fear, the boulders exploded. Dublin and Vienna had blasted the threat out of the sky. Charleston couldn’t help but give a shout of excitement. “Great shot!” he said.

“Thanks,” Vienna replied.

“Hey!” Dublin complained. “I hit it too!”

“Now’s not the time,” Savannah’s voice cut in.

Jax guided them through the remainder of the narrowest part of the canyon, Vienna and Dublin blasting a few more boulders along the way, and into a gradually widening corridor of steep rock cliffs.

“Let’s make up some time here and catch Boar Ship,” Savannah said. “I want to return the favor.”

“Paris,” Jax said. “We need more power.”

“Okay,” he replied calmly.

A moment later, Charleston felt the ship’s speed increase. They covered the valley floor below them and hit the next turn in mere seconds. Charleston tried to make out details of the terrain as they blew by, but all he could tell was it was rocky and ragged.

As they came around the bend in the canyon, Charleston did a double take. Up ahead of them, maybe half a mile, the canyon stopped. Except there wasn’t an exit. An enormous mountain blocked it.

“Paris,” Jax said, his voice only slightly tenser than before. “We’re going to need more power. A lot more.”

“Okay,” came that calm, almost disinterested voice again.

Their ship didn’t immediately increase its speed this time. Instead, it began nosing down at a slight angle towards the canyon floor, which itself was sloping up towards the mountain face. Panic flashed through Charleston’s chest and he unconsciously pulled up on the steering device in front of him.

“When I say,” Jax said.

The ground rushed up to meet them, while the cliff face loomed ahead. Charleston felt helpless as he watched.

The ship suddenly turned up and up and up, the mountain wall disappearing to be replaced by the clear blue sky above them. But they were still moving forward, their momentum carrying them ever closer to the rock face that ended the canyon. “Now!” Jax yelled. Charleston was crushed back into his seat by the invisible force of the acceleration. Their ship burst out of the canyon and up the side of the mountain face.

They’d survived.

Charleston released his grip on the steering device and flexed his pained fingers as Jax slowly began to level them off.

“I hope that wasn’t the first time you’ve done that,” Charleston said after the chorus of exclamations and praise had died down.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jax replied, and Charleston could hear the grin in his voice.

“Okay, Char and Ark,” Savannah interrupted. “Get ready.”

As Jax nosed the ship back towards the ground beneath them, Charleston’s eyes widened in shock. He knew what they were hunting and so shouldn’t have been surprised by the sight, but the reality of it was still stunning. A dense, dark mass of trees was nestled between two intersecting mountain ranges. It was a real, live forest.

“What is this place?” Arkhangelsk asked. Even she sounded surprised.

“The South Pole,” Savannah answered.

“I thought nothing survived the extinction,” Charleston replied, ignoring his friend’s sarcasm.

“It didn’t,” Savannah replied. “At least not in the form it had been before. Jax,” she continued before anyone could ask any more questions, “bring us down lower and let’s do a sweep as best we can.”

“Got it.”

Charleston watched the green mass come into gradual focus as the ship lowered. He could make out breaks between trees where he assumed streams and rivulets cut through the forest, as well as game trails.

They finished their flyover and began ascending again. He and Ark would deploy once they’d reached the proper elevation to better simulate an actual descent and approach from space.

“Ark,” he said. “Thoughts?”

He could sense her shrug before she spoke. “You go west, I’ll go east. We’ll meet in the middle.”

“Unless I spot it first,” he said, smiling. Their task, as Savannah had explained to them, was to hunt a black jaguar, a large, elusive predator that would put all their survival skills to the test.

“Deploy!” Savannah commanded a few moments later.

Charleston released his craft from its base in the ship and dropped silently through the air before engaging the thrusters. To his right, he saw Ark’s ship gliding towards the eastern end of the forest. He went in the opposite direction. As he did so, he noticed several other ships in the air above him. The rest of the Podkind had already deployed their rangers.

The flight to the forest floor was anticlimactic. It was a straight shot with little to no wind. The simulations they’d trained with had been far more difficult. The hardest part of all was the landing, but only because the trees were so densely packed together that finding a spot for the ship wasn’t easy. Eventually, Charleston followed a narrow break in the forest until it opened into a small clearing left behind by the changing course of the river and landed gently on the leaf-strewn forest floor.

He turned on the ship’s cloaking device, checked his weapons, then trotted off towards the small river to begin his search for the jaguar.

He followed the river east towards where Arkhangelsk would be starting. He knew she would also begin her search along whatever waterway she found. If they were lucky, they would soon meet in the middle.

They weren’t lucky.

He walked for the better part of an hour and found nothing. No tracks, no animals, no sign of anything. The forest was eerily quiet and strangely empty. It felt almost artificial. Before he could dwell on this observation, a flash of something dark in the distance caught his eye. He dropped to a crouch and waited. Maybe he’d been wrong and there was life in these woods after all. He kept his gaze wide and in the direction of the first flash, waiting for whatever it was to show itself once more.

There it was again, this time a little to his left. It was moving at an angle away from him in the direction he’d just come. He set off after it, hoping he’d gotten lucky and spotted the jaguar before anyone else. As he drew closer, though, he realized with a rush of disappointment it wasn’t a jaguar at all. It was another ranger.

He stopped and watched the person move further from him, then turned and headed back east. He walked for another hour before he stopped to drink some water. They’d been allowed one bag per person. Usually they weren’t given any to start, but an exception had been made since no one knew what kind of water, if any, would be in the South Pole.

As he was taking his final sip and again wondering about the nature of this strange forest that seemed hollow somehow, a scream sounded in the distance. Charleston leapt up, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, his water bag forgotten. A tense moment later, another scream came, weaker this time, from the same direction.

Charleston didn’t wait for a third.

He moved silently towards the sound, his bow out and an arrow ready. Whatever was making that sound was in danger and in pain.

Another scream, close this time, split the silence of the woods a third time. There was a gurgle to it now that made Charleston’s stomach flip. This thing was dying. Was it possible someone already found the jaguar and only managed to wound it? He’d hunted enough to know what a wounded animal could sound like. He moved in a silent, low crouch, eyes and ears straining to pick up any clue to what he was creeping up on. From a break in the woods just ahead, he heard a low gurgle followed by a moan. He crept to the edge of the small clearing.

All thought of stealth disappeared when he saw who was making the awful sound.

Gala was tied spread-eagle from two trees. A bloody mass of flesh hung from her lower abdomen. The ground around her was a dark red.

“Gala!” Charleston screamed and rushed to her. At the sound of his voice, she lifted her head. Blood dripped from empty sockets.

“Char,” she said weakly. The sound of her voice and the sight of her tortured body ripped like a hot, jagged knife through his chest.

“Gala!” he said again and reached for her. Something knocked into his shoulder. He stumbled and slipped on the bloody grass. Searing pain shot through his back. He looked down. A bloody arrow protruded from his chest.

“Char,” Gala whispered.

Another thud, this one in his hamstring. Pain exploded in his leg. He crashed to the ground. He thought he heard the twang of the bow this time. Does the sound of an arrow being released travel faster than the arrow itself? he wondered.

No, that’s not right. He struggled to push himself up. He had to think clearly. He had to defend himself. He had to save Gala. But from whom?

“Jambon,” he muttered as he turned. The large bully from Orange Ship stepped into the clearing, another arrow nocked and pointed at Charleston’s head. He was dressed in animal furs, rather than the flight suit the others wore. His long dark hair was slicked back away from his face, which was covered in mud.

“I told you I’d go for your friends first next time, Les,” Jambon said with a self-satisfied smirk. “You always were a sucker for anyone in need of help.” He approached Charleston, lowering his bow. “Just one scream and you come running, eager to play the hero. So predictable.” He glanced up at Gala, and Charleston followed his gaze. She was still breathing, even if just barely. “Why didn’t you put her out of her misery?” Jambon asked with another smirk. “Like you did that rabbit?” Charleston could feel the gloat radiating from Jambon’s very core. “Here,” he continued, “I’ll do it for you.”

“No!” Charleston shouted in a voice not his own. His head felt fuzzy, as if his mind was detaching from his body. “Don’t touch her!”

“But she’s suffering,” Jambon replied in mock sympathy, drawing the arrow back.

With every ounce of training he had, Charleston summoned the image of the flame and the transcendence necessary to overcome the pain. The haze in his mind disappeared. He lashed out at Jambon’s bow with a tongue of energy. It lurched to the side.

The arrow flew harmlessly into the woods.

Jambon looked surprised for a moment, then smirked again. “That’s okay. I have more.” He reached for another arrow. Charleston sent another surge of energy at him, freezing the man’s arm in midair.

Jambon laughed and flung out a hand. Charleston was slammed into the ground beside Gala, the arrow in his back snapping painfully. His vision went dark for a moment. “The thing about these tattoos,” Jambon said, coming to lean over Charleston, “is that I got one too.” He sneered and increased the pressure pinning Charleston down. “That’s right. New Washington isn’t the only place with this kind of technology.”

Charleston groaned and squirmed, trying to distract Jambon from the knife he’d reached as he’d been slammed to the ground. With a deadly quick movement, he whipped his arm around and let fly the dagger.

It bounced harmlessly off Jambon’s energy shield.

“Oh, I do learn from my mistakes,” he said in mock self-deprecation. He bent over and picked up Charleston’s knife, turning the blade so it caught the light from the sun above them. “I have one just like this,” he said. “But mine is covered in your girlfriend’s blood. Unbelievably messy work, disemboweling someone,” he continued in a friendly tone. “And you’d never imagine how hard it is to find the uterus, no matter how much practice you have doing it.”

Charleston stared, rage flooding his mind. “I’ll kill you!” he said through clamped teeth.

Jambon laughed and straightened, dropping the knife and nocking another arrow. He again aimed it at Gala.

Charleston’s head felt even woozier now. There was a metallic taste in his mouth, too. He tried to clear his mind and concentrate, but each time he pictured the flame, it slipped away from him. He had to do something. “It was you who killed Stahl and the others?” he grunted.

Jambon glanced at him and grinned. “I can’t take all the credit. I had help.”

“Jedidiah,” Charleston replied.

The arrow dipped a little as Jambon released some of the tension in his arms. He looked surprised to hear the name, but the nasty, gloating smile quickly returned. “I’m going to be his admiral,” Jambon beamed.

Charleston took a shallow breath and glanced at Gala. She hung motionless and bleeding. He had to think of something while he had Jambon talking. Charleston managed a scoff that came out more bloody cough than anything. “You?” he said, putting as much disgust in his voice as he could. “You’re no leader. You have to be smart to lead.”

Jambon hurled another wave of energy at Charleston, slamming him painfully to the ground. He hadn’t even lowered his bow to do so.

“I never should have been made a stupid ranger!” Jambon shouted, turning now to stare at Charleston while increasing the force pinning him down. “I’ve always been leader material. That stupid test should have proven it.”

Charleston met his gaze a moment, then dropped his eyes. He’d baited Jambon into focusing on him and now he had to play meek.

It worked. The energy holding him down disappeared. Charleston sucked in a few ragged breaths. “So Jedidiah found you and saw your potential,” he prompted through gasps.

“He saw it immediately,” Jambon said proudly. The bow was lowered now, the arrow loosely aimed at the ground.

Charleston moved a little to the side, trying to get within reach of his boot and the knife hidden there. But his body didn’t obey.

“He could tell from watching me with my podmates that I was a natural leader, born to do great things,” Jambon continued, his eyes alight. “That’s why he sent his people for me. He knew I was the best to lead the move from this shit planet to our new home.”

“Is that why you stole your ship and ran? To take your rightful place?” Charleston asked, unable to keep the disdain from his voice.

“That’s right,” Jambon replied, looking hard at Charleston. “And to plan this little excursion,” he sneered.

“What are you talking about?” Charleston slurred. His head was spinning now.

“While you losers are here chasing a non-existent jaguar, Jedidiah is taking over New Washington. Once I kill you and the others, we’re going to take your ships and help him finish the job.”

“But you need us,” Charleston managed. “Our mission.”

“Moron,” Jambon replied harshly. “We don’t need rangers to find a habitable planet,” he scoffed. “The idea is stupid, always has been. We’ll take over whatever backwards civilization we find and rule like we should. And that makes you expendable,” he said with a laugh. With another blast of energy, he crushed Charleston back in to the ground. He raised the bow and aimed at Gala’s heart.

“Don’t!” Charleston grunted.

“Don’t worry,” Jambon said, “her death will be quick… relative to your own.” He let the arrow go with a thwang.

Charleston screamed.

The arrow froze in midair.

Jambon’s head snapped to Charleston, exasperation distorting his features. “Stop doing…”

The head of a spear erupted from his mouth.

Jambon’s hands grasped weakly at the shaft now emerging from his face as if trying to figure out what it was. Then it was gone and he fell to the ground.

Arkhangelsk stood behind him. “Char!”

“Help her!” he grunted.

Arkhangelsk cut Gala down and laid her gently on the ground.

“Call Vannah,” he managed to say, groaning each word more than articulating them. “Get Ragnar.”

Arkhangelsk grabbed the small transmitter each ranger had been given from her bag. “Savannah! We need extraction! And prepare medical!”

A moment that felt like an eternity passed before Savannah responded. “On the way.”

Charleston slumped to the ground and reached for the arrow in his leg. His head was spinning.

“Don’t touch it!” Arkhangelsk said, glancing his way. “You’ll be fine. For now. If you remove it, you could bleed out.”

Charleston said nothing. He desperately wanted to know if Gala was still alive, but he was too afraid of the answer. How had Jambon managed to capture her? She was one of the best rangers in the group. She should have seen him coming.

He should have, too.

He must have passed out then, because the next thing he knew, he was being lifted by two glowing blue orbs and carried to the ship, which was somehow, miraculously, nearby. “How did you find a landing place?” he mumbled to whomever it was walking next to him.

“We made one,” New York replied.

“Gala,” Charleston said, trying to sit up.

“She’s alive,” New York said. “Ragnar and Savannah are with her. They’ll see to you when they’re done.”

“It was Jambon…” Charleston managed, though his speech was slurring. His tongue felt thick in his mouth. “Wanted revenge.”

“It looks like Ark put a stop to that.”

“Jambon…” Charleston said again.

“I know, Char,” New York replied. “Jambon ambushed Gala and used her to lure you to him.”

“No,” Charleston forced out. “Jedidiah. He’s…” Charleston fought hard to swallow, but his mouth was dry. “…working …with Jedidiah.”

“What?” New York asked, turning to look at Charleston, surprise on his face.

“Water…” Charleston said, but by that point they were already on the ship and halfway to the medical unit. “Apple,” he muttered, waving a hand at New York and smiling. Everything was spinning now.

“Okay, Char. You’ll get water and an apple after you’re better.”

“No,” Charleston managed. “Big Apple.” He smiled. He hadn’t used that nickname since they were kids. The big man turned and squeezed Charleston’s hand.

“It’ll be okay.”

“We have…to go…back.” He could feel himself slipping back into unconsciousness.

“What? To the forest?”

“No…” he managed. “New Washington. This challenge…” He swallowed hard, a dry, painful thing. “A diversion…no jaguar…fake forest.” Darkness was closing in around him, while the Earth was spinning. He felt his body drift upwards, weightless. “New Washington…under attack.”

 

Chapter 36

They were once again hurtling through the sky. But this time there was no talk, no commotion, no excitement over the flight, no anticipation of the challenge awaiting them. The deck was deathly quiet, the air charged with anger and pain and worry. Charleston held on to Savannah’s captain’s chair for support, his wounds glowing the familiar blue of the regen nanos.

He had awoken in a haze of pain and fear, unsure what was real and what nightmare. “Gala,” he’d mumbled and tried to sit up. Pain had lanced through his chest and he’d instinctively curled into himself.

“Lay back,” a voice had said as two strong hands pushed him back down. It was Ragnar.

“Gala!” he said louder. “I have to help Gala!”

“Gala alive,” Ragnar replied, but said no more.

Charleston’s memory had snapped in place with reality then as he recognized the medical unit on board Crocodile Ship. “I need to talk to Savannah!”

“I’m here, Char,” her voice sounded from another room. “Just try to rest.” It was closer now. “Your wounds are pretty severe, though nothing we weren’t able to fix.” She was standing beside him now, drying her hands. “You should sleep.” She gave Ragnar a look and the man disappeared.

“No!” Charleston said hotly. “Didn’t New York tell you? We have to go!”

Savannah met his gaze. “He told me you were raving about something. Jambon, Jedidiah, a jaguar. It didn’t make much sense.”

“Listen to me,” Charleston said as seriously and as calmly as possible. “Jambon was working with Jedidiah. New Washington is under attack!” He told them what the dead bully had bragged about to him.

And now they were speeding back to New Washington, preparing to do battle to save their city.

But Charleston was less concerned with Jedidiah and his attempted coup and more with getting Gala to Med Dome. Her wounds were too severe to be treated effectively on the ship.

After Savannah had ordered Jax to take them back to New Washington and New York to convince the other ships to follow suit, Charleston had gone to see his wounded girlfriend.

She’d been floating in a large cylindrical vat of glowing blue liquid with breathing tubes attached to a mask on her face. The wound in her stomach was closed, though he could see the ugly gash from Jambon’s knife.

Tears filled his eyes as he stepped closer. He pressed his forehead against the glass of the vat. It was cold to the touch. “We’re going to save you,” he whispered, searching vainly for her eyes beneath the mask. “I’m going to save you.”

They were nearing New Washington now and they were alone. The escort that had accompanied them to the South Pole hadn’t responded to New York’s calls for assistance. When Jax had flown them to where they were supposed to have been waiting, all they found was carnage.

The escort had been destroyed.

Charleston shifted some of his weight to his injured leg, then winced. He’d discovered as he limped from the medical unit to the deck against Ragnar’s advice that he could use the energy in his tattoo to strengthen his leg, as well as dull the pain.

The trip back seemed to take forever. Charleston felt helpless, his mind full of worry and fear, while his body throbbed and ached. He didn’t want to use too much energy to dull the pain. He had no idea what they’d find once they reached New Washington…

Or what was left of it.

“Holy hell!” Jax whistled as they approached the city.

Military Branch was all but destroyed, while several domes scattered across the other branches looked as if they’d been cracked open, their insides smoldering. City Dome was intact for the moment, but it was under siege by more ships than Charleston could count. Through the glass he could make out signs of fighting inside the dome as well. The battle was raging on all fronts.

“Jedidiah isn’t trying to take over New Washington,” Savannah said, her voice ominous. “He’s trying to destroy it.”

Charleston remembered the bloody words scrawled in front of Professor Stahl’s body, words the friends had dismissed as Jedidiah’s attempts to play prophet. And their eyes shall be opened and their pillars shall fall.

The Trunk, the pillar of New Washington, was in danger of collapsing. The man had been serious.

Thoughts of Gala cut through Charleston’s shock. “We need to get to Med Dome,” he said urgently. “Gala will die if we don’t!”

“If there even is a Med Dome,” New York replied.

“Incoming!” Jax yelled. The ship tilted and dropped quickly. A small military craft whipped by them, guns firing.

“Dublin! Vienna!” Savannah shouted.

“On it!” they replied in unison. A second later, Charleston saw their own gunfire lance out at another approaching ship, causing it to zag away from them.

“We have to get to Med Dome!” he said again, desperation in his voice.

Savannah glanced at him, then looked back at the scene before them. “We can’t risk the lives of everyone on this ship in the hope that Med Dome hasn’t been destroyed. We need to retreat.”

“What!?” Charleston yelled. “Gala will die!”

“I’m sorry, Char,” Savannah replied, “but look what’s happening out there! It’s a full-on assault! We’d be lucky to get close without getting destroyed, much less actually land this ship anywhere.”

Charleston nearly screamed in frustration. But Savannah was right and he knew it. Jedidiah had more forces than he’d ever thought possible. “What if I can get to Med Dome?” he asked. “If someone’s there and they can help, will you bring her?”

Savannah sighed. “We’ll try.”

Charleston was off, energy from his tattoo coursing through his wounded body.

“Char, wait!” Savannah said, stopping him at the door. “New York, go with him. Ark, get Ragnar and take him in your ship,” she commanded. “We’ll retreat once you’ve deployed and wait for the others. If Med Dome is intact, maybe together we can reach it.”

Charleston bolted for his ship, New York close behind. When he got to his cabin, he stopped short. Paris was waiting for him. “What are you doing?” Charleston asked, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

“I’m going with you,” the strange young man replied.

“The ship’s only big enough for two,” Charleston said.

“Then it will be a tight fit,” Paris answered quietly.

Charleston looked at him a moment. “Let’s go,” he finally said. He didn’t have time to argue. Gala didn’t have time for him to argue.

They squeezed into the small craft and Charleston disengaged it from Crocodile Ship.

“What’s the plan?” Arkhangelsk asked over the communicator. “It’s a shitshow out here. Heading straight for City Dome is a suicide mission.”

“Agreed,” Charleston said as he engaged the thrusters. “Follow me.” He blasted straight down.

“Uh, what are you doing, Char?” New York asked from the back, where he was pressed up against the glass of the cockpit by the force of their descent. Paris was awkwardly under him, squished down into the seat.

“If we can’t get there from above,” Charleston replied, increasing their speed with the push of his hand, “then we’ll go in from below.”

The drop was over almost as quickly as it had begun. Charleston leveled the ship out a couple hundred feet above the surface, well below the raging battle above.

“That was fun,” New York remarked dryly, now back in the seat next to Paris. “But how exactly do you plan on getting in? It’s not like there’s a front door to the Trunk.”

Charleston peered up, trying to gauge where they were. If he’d angled their plunge correctly, they should be just under Podkind Branch. Now he only had to keep going straight until he saw it.

“There!” Charleston yelled and slammed the ship in a sharp downwards spike once more. New York crashed against the back of the cockpit again, cursing as he hit. The entrance to the mine had appeared much faster than Charleston remembered. Then again, he’d glided to it on an energy-charged cloak the last time, not in a spaceship. He pulled up on the control mechanism just in time to keep from nose-diving into the ground. They landed with a jolt.

New York cursed. “Didn’t you learn to fly in Ranger class?” he snarled from on top of Paris, who had remained quiet the entire way.

“You try landing a ship in the bottom of a mine,” Charleston said, opening the cockpit and jumping out. He winced in pain as his feet hit the ground. The regen nanos were working hard on his wounds, but he still had to draw from his store of energy to walk, not to mention breathe.

As he gingerly stepped away from the ship, adjusting the sword at his hip as he went, Arkhangelsk brought her ship down in a smooth descent to land gently next to his.

New York glowered at Charleston, who just shrugged.

“Where are we?” Arkhangelsk asked as she hopped out, joined by Ragnar a moment later. The Viking had a massive two-handed sword strapped across his back and two small axes at his belt. The others were armed too – Ark with her spear and bow, Paris with two medium-sized sticks, and New York with a sword that looked like the twin of Ragnar’s – but Charleston wondered if the ancient weapons would do any good against Jedidiah and his war suits.

“The mines,” he replied, pushing that worry away and moving towards the tunnel entrance that would take them to the Underground. One step at a time, he thought and grabbed one of the lanterns hanging at the bottom of the shaft. “They run under New Washington. We can access the Trunk this way.”

The others were hurrying to follow him. “How do you know about this place?” Arkhangelsk asked, wonder in her voice.

Charleston didn’t answer as they hurried through the darkness. He imagined she must have a million questions, but he didn’t feel like talking. They continued on in silence until a dark object came into view. It was one of the carts he and Violet had ridden in to get to the Underground. “It’ll be a tight fit,” he warned, “but it’ll get us there faster.”

“What’s another cramped and dangerous ride?” New York asked and climbed in the cart, followed by Ragnar. Charleston looked doubtfully at the remaining space, then squeezed in. Arkhangelsk and Paris followed him. It was more than a tight fit. Charleston had to lean forward over the front edge, while Arkhangelsk and Paris did the same along the sides.

“We’re not moving,” New York stated the obvious.

Charleston racked his brains to remember how Violet had got them going.

The cart jerked forward suddenly, then began smoothly running down the rails.

“Huh,” he said, “I guess it just starts on its own.”

“Energy, you dolt,” Arkhangelsk replied. “I just pushed us off.”

The cart ride seemed longer to Charleston this time. His thoughts were bouncing back and forth between Gala and what they’d find in City Dome. He needed some sort of plan, but all he could think of was, ride the elevators up to the top and assess the situation there before making their next move.

Ragnar let out a whoop as they crested the last hill and raced down the steep incline that led to the Underground. Charleston bit back a nasty comment.

“Where are we?” Arkhangelsk asked as the cart rolled to a stop next to several others.

“The Underground,” Charleston replied. He extracted himself from the crush of his crewmates and jumped out.

“Yes, I know we’re underground,” she replied harshly, “but what is this place?”

“No, it’s the Underground,” he replied as he got his bearings. “It’s where the rejects of New Washington live.”

“It doesn’t look like anyone lives here, if you ask me,” New York commented.

“The city is massive,” he replied. “This is just some kind of transportation center or something. Let’s go.”

As they made their way through the winding dirt-strewn roads and between the short, squat buildings, Charleston began to realize that New York had been right. There wasn’t anyone in the streets. It felt like a ghost town.

They were silent as they went, each subdued by thoughts of the battle raging, Gala’s condition, or the eerie emptiness of such a large city.

Charleston’s leg and chest ached, but he had long since embraced the pain.

“It’s just up ahead,” he said to the others after what felt like an hour.

“What is?”

Before he could answer, the large peresilium wall of the Trunk appeared.

“What’s the plan, then?” Arkhangelsk asked.

“We take this to City Dome,” Charleston replied, indicating the elevator in front of them, “and we find Med Dome.”

“You saw what City Dome looked like,” New York replied. “It’s a war zone up there.”

“Then let’s go to war.”

 

The Podkind is a science fiction/fantasy novel written by Johnny Cycles. The final installment is scheduled for June 20th!

Photo by Ruslan Valeev on Unsplash