Retribution Falls - Chris Wooding [38]
“Guns!” Drave snapped, as he herded them together. “Knives. All of it.”
They disarmed, throwing their weapons down in a small heap in front of them. Drave looked them over critically.
“Step back. Against the crates.”
They did as they were told.
“Now. Who’s this Jez I heard you mention?”
“She’s the navigator,” Frey replied.
Drave glanced at the stairs leading out of the cargo hold. Deciding whether it was worth the risk of going up and getting her.
“Anyone else?”
“No,” said Frey.
Drave took a sudden step toward them and pressed the muzzle of his revolver to Crake’s forehead. “If you’re lying, I’ll blow his brains out!”
Crake whimpered softly. He’d had just about enough of people putting guns to his head.
“There’s not another soul on board!” Frey said. He started with himself, and then pointed to each of the crew in turn. “Pilot. Engineer. Doctor. Navigator is in her quarters. You’ve got a full crew here. This one”—he waved at Crake—“he’s just along for the ride.”
“The others? The outfliers?”
“Already gone.”
Drave glared at him, then took the revolver off Crake and backed away to a safer distance.
“Both of them?”
“Already gone,” Frey repeated, shrugging. “They took off when they heard the Knights were on the case. Could be halfway to anywhere by now. We’re all alone here.”
Deep in the shadows between the piles of fishy-smelling crates, two tiny lights glimmered. There was the heavy thump of a footstep and a rustle of chain mail and leather. Drave spun around to look behind him, and the color drained from his face.
“Well, unless you count Bess,” Frey added, and the golem burst from the darkness with a metallic roar.
Drave’s reactions saved him. The armor of the Century Knights was legendarily light and strong, made using secret techniques in the Archduke’s own forges, and it slowed him not at all as he flung himself aside to avoid Bess’s crushing punch. He hit the ground in a roll and came up with both revolvers blazing. Bess flinched and recoiled as the bullets ricocheted off her armor and punched through her leather skin, but the assault did nothing more than enrage her. She bellowed and swept another punch at Drave, who jumped backward to avoid it.
As soon as the Knight was distracted, the crew scattered. Frey dived for the guns, came up with Malvery’s shotgun in his hands, and squeezed the trigger. As he did so, he realized he’d forgotten to prime it first. He hoped the doctor had been careless enough to keep a round in the chamber.
He had. Drave saw the danger, raised his pistol, and was a split second from firing when Frey hit him full in the chest. The impact blasted him off his feet. He landed hard on the cargo ramp and rolled helplessly down it and off the end.
Silo lunged across the hold and raised the lever to close the cargo ramp. Bess started to run down it, chasing the fallen Knight, but Crake shouted after her. She stopped, somewhat reluctantly, and settled for guarding the closing gap. Drave was already trying to pick himself up off the ground. He was groggy but otherwise unharmed, saved by his chest plate.
Frey had bolted for the stairs that led up to the main passageway before the cargo ramp had even closed. He sprinted into the cockpit, past Jez, who was just opening the door to her quarters.
“Was that gunfire?” she asked.
He leaped into his chair and punched in the ignition code, then boosted the aerium engines to full. The Ketty Jay gave a dolorous groan as its tanks filled and began to haul the craft skyward. He could hear gunfire outside over the sound of the prothane thrusters: Drave shooting uselessly at the hull. The dark aircraft that shared the landing pad sank from view as they lifted into the night sky.
“Cap’n?” Jez inquired, from the doorway of the cockpit. “Are we in trouble?”
“Yes, Jez,” he said. “We’re in trouble.”
Then he hit the thrusters, and the Ketty Jay thundered, tearing away across