“We’re going to crash! We have to get off this thing or we’re dead!” The engineer was panicking.
The captain calmly backhanded him out of his seat, entering another command into the console. “If you really believe that, you’re a sorry piece of work. You should have died rather than set those air brakes back.”
The traction engine and the rest of the train continued to accelerate to the end of the line as she braced herself, withdrawing her Armati Elan back to its compact form and holstering it at her side. She planted her feet wide, gripped the back of the engineer’s chair, and grinned wildly as the train struck the end of the line at ten times the speed of sound … and accelerating.
As the engineer predicted, they jumped the space-time fold like it wasn’t there. There was barely a bump as the traction engine bore on through, heading for the tower with thirty million tons of material hauled right along behind it.
A moment later, however, the engine suddenly jerked hard to the right as it locked into another skyway and continued to do what it was told.
Accelerate.
In the engine room, the engineer and his mate were flung against the wall, not having braced, and lay there, stunned, as they looked at the woman with the flowing red hair who’d hijacked them. The wind from the open hatch blew her hair and loose clothes about as she laughed wildly, holding on as the entire train redirected away from the tower and headed back up into the empty vacuum above.
He’d flinched.
He didn’t mind admitting it.
When the engine jumped the skyway track, he’d thought it was his last moment of life. When nothing had happened a few seconds later, he’d reluctantly opened one eye, and then the other popped open wide at what he saw.
The engine had apparently locked onto another skyway and was happily pulling up and away from the tower as it headed out into the clear vacuum above. He stared for a long moment as canister after canister of invaluable cargo just sailed right past his tower and then glanced back at the now slowing capsules containing passengers; he swore as he realized what was happening.
“Find out what skyway they’re on now,” the commander ordered, still a little numb and unbelieving, “and get rescue flying. I want those people off the capsules before they lose q lock. Without the engine powering them, we don’t have more than a few minutes.”
“Yes, commander!”
The pirate skimmer was now under full rigging, dropping low behind its wind turbines as it tightened up for speed and angled to follow the departing engine and train. He focused in on its markings and swore again—loudly.
“Commander?”
“It’s the Andros.”
“What’s the Andros, sir?”
“The skimmer,” he said. “It’s the Andros Pak. An Imperial yacht stolen from the emperor’s own hangar last month.”
His subordinate stared at him, wide-eyed. “Who could do that? Who would be crazy enough to even try?”
He didn’t blame him for wondering. If you wanted to steal a yacht, there were easier ones to grab—hell, there were easier military vessels to grab.
“Cadre Commander Mira Delsol,” he said, shaking his head.
Mira hopped the short distance from the traction engine to where the Andros was edging alongside, accepting a hand from her mate to steady her as she landed.
“Any problems?” he asked.
“Smooth as silken sheets, Gaston,” she said with a sly smile. “A perfect mission.”
“Good. Next time, perhaps you’ll stay on board? You are the skipper.”
Mira shrugged simply, uninterested in the debate.
“I’m the skipper of a pirate skimmer, Gas,” she said, smirking just slightly. “Fuck the rules.”
Her mate just sighed and clapped her on the shoulder as she passed.
“Hot tea is ready in your stateroom. I’ll oversee the rest.”
“Just make sure they jump tracks a few times, or the guardsmen will get them,” she warned.
Gaston rolled his eyes. “I may not be your grandpa, Mira, but I know how to pluck a grapha fruit. Go get some food and leave the menial work to the people who do it best.”
She snorted. “You’re one of the empire’s top engineers, Gas. Pull the other one.”
“If they get you, I’m a smear on the wall,” he told her seriously, “which is why I’d appreciate it if you showed a little more caution.”
“If you wanted safe, you should have stayed with the empire.”
He watched her go, shaking his head.
“No amount of safety is worth selling my eternal pattern, Mira.”
“Letting them come with us is a risk, Lyd.”
Lydia shrugged as she and Brennan walked with the pair they’d saved, who were currently struggling to catch up. The twins adjusted their pace carefully so that it wouldn’t be too hard for them to catch up, but they wouldn’t make it too easy for the stricken teens. If they were the sort to give up, neither Scourwind wanted them at their back.
“Hang on,” the boy said as he reached the siblings first. “My sister’s not in great shape.”
Lyd and Brennan exchanged glances and nodded slightly, slowing almost imperceptibly in response.
“I’m Mikael,” the boy said, breathing hard from just the short rush. “This is my sister, D—”
“Dusk,” the girl said, catching up. “I’m Dusk.”
“Good to meet you,” Lydia said neutrally. “I’m Lydia. This is Brennan.”
“Thank you both,” Mikael said tiredly, Dusk nodding beside him. “Both for helping and for …” He held up the waterskin and shrugged.
“Don’t worry about it,” Brennan said curtly. “We’re leaving the camp, so if there’s anyone you want to go back to, you may want to do it now.”
“We don’t have anyone,” Dusk said softly. “Our family was caught in the cross fire …”
She stopped, looking down, and the other three teens found that they didn’t have any words to fill the silence. Brennan and Lydia both flashed back to watching Kayle as he went down under fire from the soldiers who’d invaded the palace.
“Yeah …” It was Lydia who finally spoke. “We lost ours too.”
“Look, I’m all for sentiment,” Brennan lied, “but we’ve got to get moving.”
“We’re not allowed to leave,” Dusk whispered, eyes rising to where the perimeter of the camp was being patrolled.
Brennan snorted. “We snuck in. We can sneak out.”
The two other teens stared at them both with a sort of horrified awe.
“Why in the burning skies would you sneak in?” Mikael asked, his tone hushed.
“We have our reasons,” Lydia said. “Now come on. If you’re with us, you’re going to need to learn to move quickly and quietly.”
CHAPTER 11
Cadrewoman Delsol glared over the table at the man in a legionnaire colonel’s uniform, though she knew damn well he had no right to that rank. The chaos left in the aftermath of the coup had splintered the ranks, and field promotions were flowing quickly in the loyalist camps as well as more than a few self-given bumps in rank.
That wasn’t why she was pissed with the fool sitting in front of her, though.
“The empire is grateful for your aid in the war effort,” he told her, a smarmy smile on his face. “However, we simply don’t have the available funds to complete the agreed deal. You’ll have to wait until the next—”