Blackjack Wayward

Chapter Four

I could feel the blood rush through my body, feel the expectation of a coming fight. The weight of Drovani’s gift felt heavy along my waist, and my palms grew slick as I clenched my fists. I knew I could unleash my strength in this place. My enemies were tougher and would butcher me if I let them, so it was kill or be killed. The prospect made my heart race. It was a test, a question whose only answer was blood. There was something different this time, though: with no Apogee to pass judgment, I could really let go and swing for the fences.

More and more crew gathered forward, since we were going to ram our bow into their stern and board there. Zann, Skeetrix, Darmelia, Brutalis, and Morloki were the heavy hitters, but here and there were a few wicked-looking fellows, and I was glad to have them on my side. For a moment, I had a mental flashback of my former group, the Impossibles, with Cool Hand, Haha, Influx even Dr. Zundergrub, based on the rough bunch that surrounded me. One in particular stood out. His features were swathed with cloth much like an Egyptian mummy, though woven into the fabric were pieces of coppery armor in the arms, legs, and face. How he could see through the face mask, I don’t know, but he wielded two swords, much like mine, and had the dangerous feeling of a coiled cobra about to strike. He caught me staring and nodded.

Darmelia slapped me on my shoulder, drawing my attention forward as we approached the Vershani ship at an alarming rate. The enemy ship was foundering, listing thirty degrees to port and reeling to starboard, while losing altitude nose-first in a reeling spin. Below was an endless abyss, so we had plenty of time, but boarding a ship that was falling away from us like that was madness. Dal’naeth, pilot of the Lady’s Nightmare, was insane for trying to match the Vershani ship’s death throes, as insane as Captain Nicatrix for giving the order, because the chance of hitting the enemy ship dead-on and not killing ourselves was becoming zero.

My fellow crew mates were oblivious to the danger, or perhaps the alcohol was augmenting bravery. The chant had grown louder and louder, now just a long droning snarl as opposed to an actual word, and the continued banging against the gunwales was leaving their surfaces slashed and scuffed, with chips of wood flying with each successive slamming of the crew’s weapons.

I caught Darmelia staring at me, and she smiled and shouted at the top of her lungs; “We’re in good hands, boys! Blackjack is going first!”

That was our strategy: me first. Send in the big guy and hope he could withstand initial, most vicious salvo. I admit it bothered me, being the meat shield, but between the yelling and hollering, and the pumping of blood pounding my ears, I had no time to reflect on my situation, to consider how mindlessly I was being used. We were moments away from impact, the distance shrunken to just a few dozen yards and closing. Darmelia took my arm and guided me to the edge of the railing overlooking the bowsprit mast, now cleared of sail, yards, or rigging, and now resembling a long spear stabbing out toward the enemy vessels. Beside me, several men readied grappling hooks on long ropes, to tie the two ships together. I went to draw my swords, but the orc woman checked my arm and shook her head.

“Not yet,” she said, with a bare whisper meant only for me. “You’ll need both arms free to climb across.”

I nodded, taking a firm grip on a gaffing hook that jutted from the gunwale.

“Grab onto something solid,” Zann shouted, warning us of the imminent impact, which would be a bone-jarring crash given how fast we were going.

I held on to the railing, and to my surprise, Darmelia grabbed my crotch and buttocks, flashing a wide smile.

“Solid,” she said, gripping tightly.

I barely felt the collision; shards of wood and the strange alabaster material of the Vershani ship exploded through and around me, showering me and the crew with debris, as we were jostled like small children in an overturned school bus. Darmelia kept her grip tight, her eyes boring into mine as we flew up, down, and around, kept in place by my hold on the railing. Several crewmen lost their hold and were thrown about, and one man, a smallish fellow whose grip failed, fell overboard to his death. Our first casualty.

I hardly noticed, my attention on the lovely orc-maid who suddenly made my blood pound for different reasons. One look into those sapphire eyes made me eager to finish the fight quick so we could start celebrating.

When the impact had settled, grappling hooks went across the gap between the ships, and Darmelia squeezed my genitals and slapped me on the back.

“Here you go,” she said, and I hurled myself over.

Something happened to me the last time I visited Shard World, when I was in proximity to one of the great masters of this place, the Lightbringers. Just being near this creature had boosted my superhuman strength, agility, and toughness to another level, as great as any of the so-called supermen who were almost worshipped on Earth. Maybe even to the level of men like Lord Mighty, Paladin, and Epic, a man whom I had beaten in single combat. The Lightbringers were the source of power that had turned Dr. Retcon and the Original Seven into living gods, and those that followed, like myself, into demigods.

Before meeting the Lightbringer, I was told I had Class-A strength, which is the second highest classification of power that we recognize on Earth. Class-Zero is reserved for the fellows named above, and, of course, those of the Original Seven who showed physical prowess, like Valiant, Retcon, and Apostle, now dead, and Global, the last remaining of the Seven. After my encounter with the creature, I’d say I’m close to that bunch, especially after the beating I gave Epic.

So when I hurled myself across, I didn’t just hop over and scramble across: I flew through the air landing on the burning remnants of the Vershani aft castle. My arrival was like a crash atop the white, marble-like material, leaving a thirty-foot indentation of shattered deck. Bodies of our enemies lay all about me in various states of dismemberment or burning, but there was no visible opposition on the top deck, nor on the main deck below, though much was obscured by fallen sheets, crumpled masts, and crashed debris.

I looked back at my crew beginning to scamper over the large gap between the railing on the bow of the Lady’s Nightmare, and the edge of the damage aft castle remnants. I grabbed a few of the grapple ropes, put my foot on a bulkhead edge and heaved, pulling the bow of our ship just a few feet closer, so that our crew could just jump down onto the damaged deck of the Vershani ship. With that, they were a wave of bodies, a throng of raging aliens looking for something to kill, eat, or f*ck.

They rushed past me with abandon, taking the stairs down to the main deck, jumping down over the railing, or even climbing up the damaged rigging to find enemies. Zann landed next to me, his eyes wide with awe, and slapped my shoulder, leading me to the railing that overlooked the empty quarterdeck below. Even now, our men were swarming into the hold through the stairs below us and across the deck to the forecastle, where the last vestiges of crew were likely to be.

A brawny arm grabbed me and hurled me down as someone shouted “Cover!” and a hundred long rifles barked from the forecastle, ripping into our men and the remaining woodwork of the aft castle. Blood fountained from chests and men doubled over, stitched from head to toe with lead as the volley of guns took a heavy toll. Peering through a gap in the railing, I could see a dozen dead or injured men, the quarterdeck awash with blood.

Across the quarterdeck from our position, the Vershani soldiers rose and let loose a second volley on us.

More men collapsed, and by now chaos had turned to a smoke-filled, blood-strewn disaster. I was surrounded by our screaming, panicked crew, diving for cover, begging for mercy, and slowly dying. Zann was hit, though judging from how fast he had healed from our fight, he would probably survive the gaping, bloody chest wound. Darmelia was down, though she insisted she was fine and almost shot me when I tried to check her injury. Skeetrix bled from a mangled left paw, ebbing pinkish blood, but he seemed unaffected otherwise. I’d been hit several times, but fortunately, the Vershani weapons were no match for my tough skin. It hurt like hell, though. Worse than all that, we were pinned, unable to return fire, and our enemies seemed to have an unlimited supply of ammunition. Some were taking advantage of our situation and climbing the damaged rigging, finding vantage points to get better angles on us.

“This is bad,” Morloki said, using my bulk as cover. His armor was dinged, and a trickle of blood flowed from his cheek.

“Maybe we can make it back to our ship,” Brutalis said, “We can use the bow chasers.”

I looked back at the bow of Lady’s Nightmare, jutting into the rear of the Vershani ship, riding high behind us; the bowsprit mast soared overhead, entangled into the other ship’s rigging. The railing where we had stood not two minutes ago was behind us, across a twenty-foot dead man’s land and thirty feet up, a climb that would provide target practice to the Vershani sharpshooters.

“I’ll give them something to worry about,” I said and jumped over the railing down to the quarterdeck into a hail of lead.

Having a huge soaring target, the Vershani keyed on me. Their marksmanship was cruel and exact. Dozens of shells slammed against my body, shredding my clothing, but I wasn’t in any immediate danger. After the first volley erupted, a cloud of noxious smoke billowed across the deck, obscuring me from their murderous fusillade.

Taking turns to shoot at me, the Vershani would pop up and fire while others reloaded, making sure to keep a steady stream of fire at me. They were on their heels now, as my companions were returning gunshots from the damaged aft castle. I saw one armored fellow rise up and aim at me, then his eyes widened and he adjusted fire just beside me, shooting off to my right. The bullet few wide, and I heard a metallic clang. Turning, I noticed someone beside me. It was the guy swathed in cloth like a mummy, braving the crossfire. Instead of weathering the bullets, though, this guy was parrying incoming fire with a machete-like blade while hanging on to the rigging with his other hand. He motioned me forward as he blocked another bullet, firing the ricochet back at our attackers.

“All right, super hero time,” I said, flashing a big smile as I jumped again.

I soared across the deck, barely missing a spider web of tangled rigging and lines, and came down with a thundering thump amid the Vershani defenders in the forecastle. I was alone, surrounded by thirty or more snipers and warriors, and for almost two seconds, we just stared at each other, not sure what to do. Taking the initiative, I rushed forward at a group that featured a feather-decorated fellow I could only assume was their leader.

I’m not a trained fighter, meaning, I’ve never taken martial arts classes, or boxing, or anything else. I learned to fight by fighting against my much bigger brother and his a*shole friends. I don’t fight fair, and I don’t fight nice, and this Vershani, who looked like a peacock, got me at my worst.

I let out a roar as I rushed across the deck, running past other warriors, hurling myself in the air at him, like a linebacker trying to drop a running back coming through a hole in the line. Except I outweighed this Vershani by over a hundred pounds. I shoulder tackled the guy, slamming him down to the ground in a bone-jarring crunch. I felt his chest cavity collapse and saw blood explode from his mouth and nose. I struggled to my feet with the help of some of the enemy crew, who were striking me on my back, arms, and head. I picked up the bleeding Vershani leader and hurled him at a group of snipers across the deck. My missile crumpled into the others, collapsing them into a heap.

One of my attackers swung a sword at me, but I was so mobbed that he actually hit another of his companions. Others dug at me with daggers or pummeled me. I caught a nasty blow across the face, which sent me reeling, but I just carried the momentum into a punch that sent the nearest warrior flying off the ship. I spun and hit another just as he stabbed me in the stomach, tearing through my clothes but doing no real damage. He caught my punch flush in the face, which disintegrating his cheek and jawbones, dropping him dead. Another slashed at me with a crystal blade, which was thin like a saber, and translucent. The sword hurt me, splitting apart my overcoat and drawing blood from a deep cut in my hip.

I recoiled in pain and he thrust again, stabbing at my shoulder, but I was just drawing him closer, and when he lunged, I reached out, grabbing his wrist and lifting him off the ground. The Vershani warrior became an impromptu club, and his screams resounded across the deck. I swung him into a group of his crewmen, hearing a pop at his elbow joint; knowing I had only one good blow left, I hurled him at his mates. I didn’t bother to see what happened to them, turning on another guy who intended to skewer me with a wicked-looking trident. Sidestepping, the long weapon flew past me, but he was talented, slashing it back at my face. Instead of trying to move back, giving him a free shot, I rushed at him, grabbing his shoulder and forcing his torso down on the floor, then kicking him in the face. The spearman flew across the deck, his corpse slamming like a rag doll into a mast, caroming off and into the legs of several others.

The forecastle was a bloody mess of bodies and parts, but I was still surrounded by armored Vershani eager for a fight. There were enough of them to keep me busy and hold off my crewmates with a steady rate of fire from their muskets. They surrounded me, letting more of their spearmen file to the front, pinning me back toward the railing that overlooked the quarterdeck. Near me was a fallen spar, a long wooden attachment to the end of a yardarm. I reached for it, ripped it off the attached rigging, and swung it in wide arcs at the approaching Vershani. They outnumbered me thirty-to-one, but I had a twenty-foot baseball bat, and for the moment, I could hold them off.

One of them stepped forward, barking orders in their strange language, something Drovani’s translation spell failed to pick up, and an instant later, that man’s face exploded in blood. I heard the report of a heavy weapon above me, and, daring a glance, I saw Morlocki and Brutalis hanging from the damaged rigging, their weapons spurting fire and smoke. Morlocki was hanging from a yard arm that was dangerously curved from his heavy bulk. Brutalis used his feet to hold on to two separate ropes, his body inverted, firing two massive hand cannon more suited for a big person like Morlocki or I than for his smallish frame.

One after the other, Vershani dropped from their gunfire, and I took the moment’s pause and rushed forward, swinging the spar like a bo staff. Just as I charged, the mummy guy showed again, coming up the stairs like a dervish, his blades flashing and dropping all opposition in his path. He saw my maneuver and charged from my flank, doubling the effect of my attack.

A man with a spear stepped toward me, aiming his weapon at my chest, but his head exploded from a well-placed Brutalis shot and his body crumpled at my feet. Behind him, another aimed a rifle at me, but before he could fire, the man’s chest erupted in gunfire, and he collapsed.

Between Morlocki and Brutalis firing away and the mummy guy charging to my left, the Vershani were softened for my rush, and some even turned in retreat. I crashed into the bunch, feeling the spar bend in my arms. I knocked over the first few, crushing one’s head under my heavy boot. Those who didn’t clear out, I pinned back against the gunwale. I pressed with all my strength. The wooden barrier gave, cracking outward, and the men I pinned against the spar went with it, falling off the back of the enemy ship into the murky depths. Not many of our opponents were hurt or down, but my charge had the effect of clearing out the deck just enough for my companions to join me. Morlocki thumped on the deck, and Brutalis swung his form upright and landed beside us. The cloth-wrapped warrior stabbed one, then another, and a third in as many seconds, coming up to us. We formed a semi-circle, still surrounded, but now four of us, facing off against ten times as many.

“Not good,” Brutalis said, reloading one weapon with his left hand, tail, and right foot, and firing away with the other gun. His pistols were massive things, and each bullet fired was the size of one of my fingers. When they found their target, they blew a hole in the chest of the man they hit, travelled through his chest, and hit the one behind him. Morlocki had one weapon, much larger, but it fired a steady stream of flechette missiles instead of bullets. It was a machine gun on steroids, shooting thousands of those little darts, covering our enemy in a blanket of pain. The mummy pirate had his two machetes, and anytime an enemy got close to them, they flashed with deadly accuracy, splashing blood across the deck. I had the remnants of the spar, now just enough to pass for a two-handed club or a bat. I stabbed the jagged end outward and swung it with none of the skill of my companions, but when I hit someone, they felt it. Several of the Vershani got wise and engaged some energy shields from their copper-stained bracers. They soon had formed a front rank shield wall, with a dozen jagged tridents lining the top.

“Not good,” Brutalis said again, prompting Morlocki to look around desperately. We were moments away from the Vershani being organized enough to charge us, and when they did, it was over.

The big ape-fellow leaned over the fractured railing behind us, the front bulwark of the ship’s bow. Without another word, he hopped over the side and disappeared.

“That’s an idea,” Brutalis shouted, emptying his guns and following his partner. The mummy guy went next, and I went last, hurling the chunk of spar to slow down the rushing Vershani, hoping something would catch our fall.

We landed on the forepeak, or beak, at the base of the figurehead, which on the Vershani ship was a pronounced structure, fifty feet high and arched in the form of a wicked-looking serpent bearing a feral scowl. It would only take the warriors above us a few moments to realize what had happened, leaving us with few precious seconds to find a way to safety.

Brutalis was way ahead of me. He was fumbling with the barrel of one his weapons, twisting it with his tail, making it wider and wider with each turn, until the barrel was wide enough to fit my fist. Doing the same to the other weapon, he set his aim at the bulkhead directly in front of us.

“Brace me,” he said, and once Morloki and I held him up, he opened fire. Pieces of the ship’s hull exploded outward, as if hit by a howitzer. The three of us were buried with shards and chunks of ship, but once we threw the debris aside and the smoke cleared, we noticed a huge, gaping hole in the side of the ship.

“Not bad for a little ball of fur” I said, patting Brutalis on the shoulder and moving past him to enter, when the mummy guy rushed through first. He was fast and agile, slipping past me like a squirrel on a tree. Brutalis went next, then I did, and Morloki came last, needing me to pull him in as the Vershani pelted his heavy armor with gunfire. We were inside a small storage room, cramped with boxes, sacks, and jars stacked high against the walls, leaving only a narrow hallway to maneuver through.

“Follow me,” the mummy man said, with a voice that was familiar, leading through the winding pathway amongst the storage.

“Wait a minute,” I snapped. “Who the hell are you?”

The man turned to me and shrugged, slipping off the face mask from the swathed wrappings that held it in place.

It was Drovani, flashing me a silly grin.

“Why the disguise?”

“I can hardly trust these fellows,” he said, motioning to Brutalis and Morloki, “to tell between myself and the others.”

I smiled. “I trust you this much.” I held up my index finger and spaced less than an inch apart.

“Soon, we will be great friends,” he said, “but we must hurry. They will take her to the escape launch, and we won’t be able to pursue then.”

“Her?” Brutalis said, dialing down his pistols.

“Come,” he said, and he rushed on. He and Brutalis could make it through the alleyway amongst the stored goods without problems, but Morloki and I were too big and clumsy, and as we went, we shoved things aside, without care for spilling what they might contain. Above, the gunfire continued unabated as the Vershani made a final stand against our forces.

“If he does anything funny,” I said to Morloki as we muscled through, “kill him.”

He smiled, motioning to Brutalis. “That’s his job.”

“Oh?”

“Cap’n told Brutalis to watch him. She don’t trust the silly gold man. He goes over if he tries anything funny.”

I threw across a folded sail, hurling it into a bunch of jars with a loud crash, clearing the way to the door.

“And you?”

“I was told to watch you.”

He patted my shoulder and ran past to meet the others by the door.

Through the door lay the Vershani ship’s main gun deck. The rows of guns were rolled in and stowed neatly, and the portholes, nearly invisible from outside the ship, were clearly delineated, denoting the skill of their craftsmanship. The entire deck was enclosed, lit only by hanging oil lamps interspersed along the length of the ship that jostled along with the fight above.

The deck was guarded by only a few Vershani warriors, and by the time I reached my companions, our opposition was dead. We could hear the ongoing gunfight on the main deck from a nearby stairwell that led above, to the carnage, and farther below decks as well. The gun crews were here, on this deck, but cringing at the far end, in fear of our wrath. Upon further inspection, we saw they were a different species altogether. The huddled mass was a wretched mess, dressed in rags and swaths of dirty cloth, with clumped hair and haggard faces.

“Who are they?” I asked.

“Who cares,” Morlocki said, grabbing the last fellow that was putting up a fight and breaking his neck.

“Galley slaves,” Brutalis told me, following my gaze. “They do the dirty work.”

“So they are like us,” added Morlocki, rubbing his bloody hands.

“Slaves? I don’t like this,” I said.

“No time for this,” Drovani shot in, moving closer to the open stairwell.

I leaned into the stairs, trying to listen and maybe get a look, but there was no way to stick my head out safely. Besides, the whole well was covered with billowing gun smoke.

“Sounds like our boys are still pinned,” I said, then turned to Drovani. “So where’s this V.I.P. that you want? Where will they keep him?”

He thought for a moment, his gaze down on his dead countrymen.

“I would barricade the captain’s cabin,” he said. “Perhaps send some men below to the emergency launch, to bring it to the front of the ship, to a window or ledge. Escape that way.”

“So why don’t we just commandeer the launch and surprise attack?” Brutalis motioned down the stairs.

“They will have a hundred warriors or more protecting our target,” Drovani said softly. “No, we must drive them out somehow.”

“A fire?”

“No, my ape friend,” the Vershani said in response to Morlocki’s suggestion. “The smoke would kill us here.”

I looked around and got an idea.

“You want to drive them out, right?”

He nodded.

“And those guys up there, on the top deck,” I continued, pointing upward. “Those guys we just fought, they’re protecting the captain’s cabin, just below them, right?”

He nodded again, not following.

“If something happens up there, something devastating, that kills a lot of them, they’ll run for the launch, right?”

“Yes,” he said, suddenly excited. “If they come down for the launch, we can intercept and replace them, then–”

“No, no, no,” I interrupted. “Something so bad that they just run for it, they take the V.I.P. and make a dash for the launch right then and there.”

He shrugged, “Perhaps, but it would have to be something substantial for them to leave their defenses.”

I looked over at the nearest heavy cannon, sitting idle atop the wooden gun carriage, and smiled.

“I have an idea.”

I’m an engineer by training, and for a while there, it seemed as if it would be my career. When I failed my attempt at a normal life, I used my engineering skills to make a name for myself as a super villain, building special gadgets that I concealed on my suit and on the tips of my arrows, with some special surprises in case anyone would f*ck with me. Figuring out the proper angle to fire a cannon to do the most damage at the fighting Vershani soldiers on the forecastle was easy for me, even with Drovani going on about how careful I had to be to not injure the target of our whole exercise: a V.I.P. barricaded in the captain’s cabin, one deck above us.

We cut out one of the massive guns from its rope webbing, designed to keep it in place, and loaded it. Then Morlocki and I heaved the front wheels of the gun carriage up, using a second gun to brace it at the proper angle. I fiddled with the screw riser control, to endless pleadings by Drovani, and came up with what I thought was a good shot.

“This is insane,” Brutalis said, shaking his head, watching the whole procedure while simultaneously watching our backs.

“Insane is usually what works for me,” I said as I pulled the ten foot-long rope attached to the firing trigger.

The cannon shot echoed around the room as the shell fired through the roof of the gun deck. We were enveloped in choking smoke and fire spread through the roof a few moments later. The recoil sent the entire gun carriage and barrel crashing down through the deck, pummeling into darkness. A secondary explosion of wood and debris sent us all diving for cover. In fact, the heavy cannon kept going through the decks beneath us and out the bottom of the hull, leaving a wake of splintered wood, mangled metal, and the strange white stuff that the ship was made of.

I stood first and raced to the hole opened by the cannon shell. For a while, my vision was like one of those old movies with the flickering frames, everything moving in slow motion. Though smoke filled the air, I could see through that my shot had been well aimed. It had first impacted into the barred front doors of the captain’s cabin, smashing them aside and leaving a gaping hole for our troops to assault. After that, the heavy shell had smashed through the top roof of the cabin, coming out the forecastle deck and wreaking havoc amongst the Vershani warriors we had fought just moments before. I could only guess what the damage up top had been, but the resounding cry of charge from our pinned men at the rear of the ship told me all I needed to know. We had broken the impasse.

“It worked!” I yelled, helping Drovani to his feet.

Drovani rushed to the stairs and hid behind one of the cannon.

“Get ready,” he said, drawing his twin machetes.

Big Morlocki found a vantage point behind some fallen timbers near the stairwell, and Brutalis hung upside down from the roof, near the jagged portal we had just made. He flattened himself out along a beam and was almost invisible.

I had nowhere to hide, and I didn’t even know how to use the damned swords Drovani had given me, so I walked right up to the stairwell, and stood at the ready. Whatever was coming down here, I was going to meet it head-first. I’ve faced one of Earth’s most powerful superheroes one-on-one, and I beat him down. I stopped Dr. Retcon from destroying the world. I beat the Mist Army single-handed.

And whatever came down those stairs, I was going to pulverize.

A pair of shapely golden legs wasn’t what I’d expected.

That’s what I saw first: a Vershani woman, shoved roughly down the stairs in my direction, and when the two heavily armored warriors saw me, they acted in unison, throwing her at me like a weapon. The woman lost her balance, stumbling the last few steps, and I rushed forward to catch her. She fell into my arms, her face inches from mine, and I saw Apogee.

I pulled her back away from me, her pearlescent eyes scanning me, and quickly realized it wasn’t her. Not by a longshot. She was taller than Madelyne Hughes, nearly as tall as I was, but she had the same basic figure, which is what had confused me: a flawless frame worthy of Greek sculpture. Her face also was a similar shape, but this woman’s jaw was longer, and her cheekbones more defined. Her features were softer than Apogee’s battle-hardened face, and her hair was black as night, longer than Madelyne would have kept it. Longer hair meant something for her enemies to grab in a fight, and Apogee was nothing if not efficient in battle. Also, this woman’s hands were soft and delicate, and her features were free from the nicks and scars that marred Madelyne’s. She knew nothing of the hard life that Apogee had led.

Yet she was as beautiful. Her eyes were two beryl pools, like incandescent bulbs, and her lips full and red. She wore but a swath of light fabric wrapped across her ample breasts, a few decorated arm rings, a beaded necklace and a small strip of the same cloth that dangled between her legs to poorly conceal her bikini area.

Despite her physical allure, it was something in her face that immediately drew me to her. It was terror, a feeling of impending doom, and I felt I was the only one that could save her. She spoke, her voice a melodic poem in Drovani’s language, a language I didn’t have access to. But her meaning was clear, her plea obvious.

“Save me,” she said in her enigmatic language. It was unmistakable. “Save me.”

Spinning her behind me, I drew one of my swords to face the onrushing wave of Vershani warriors. The lead men had used her as a distraction, and it had worked. They covered the distance to me, and by the time I was ready to fight, they were upon me. Then they died. Drovani flew out of hiding, his weapons slashing at one of them half a dozen times, killing the man before he had time to respond to the first blow. Morloki grabbed the second, throwing him across the deck, his rag-doll body crashing into one of the guns. The third and fourth Vershani warriors met a hail of lead across their bodies, fired from Brutalis’ secret vantage point among the rafters.

Morlocki didn’t wait for the rushing mob of Vershani to get their bearings, firing his flechette pistol and stitching another couple of men, who screamed and fell dead.

We retreated a few dozen steps and formed a wall between the warriors and the woman, with Morlocki to my left, Drovani to my right, and Brutalis just above us.

“Is that the V.I.P.?” I asked, noticing more and more enemy warriors come down the stairs, and Drovani nodded.

“She must not be harmed.”

“She won’t be,” I almost said but the Vershani formed a wall, one by one popping a body shield from their wrist bracers, enveloping each man in a protective sheath with a similar sheen to a bubble blown by a child. They could only come at us five across in the small area between the rear wheels of the guns, but they were four ranks deep, the second and third wielding heavy spears. The whole formation inched closer, with the front men ready to engage and pin us back with their shields while their companions skewered us. Brutalis and Morloki fired their weapons but the rounds ricocheted off their shields, rebounding off the cramped surfaces of the deck. The Vershani warriors looked through us at the woman, then back at us, noticing how few we were against their formation. Even now, more men joined them, adding to the stacked rows, adding to their confidence.

“Now what?” Brutalis said, dropping to the deck beside me and drawing a short sword.

I looked back at the woman, her blue-purple eyes locking with mine, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“Now’s when I earn my pay,” I said, turning back to the enemy shield wall. “Don’t let anyone get past me.”

I charged.

I made a beeline for the man in the middle of the Vershani formation, who was weaving in and out of the support beams running through the middle of the deck. He was giving orders, and others were looking to him for leadership and comfort, facing our ugly bunch of mercenaries. The Vershani leader was as impressive as Drovani, but wearing some sort of heavy armor of gold, wielding a real shield of the same polished material, along with a wicked-looking short sword with long serrated edges on either side.

He was not nonplussed by my size nor my sudden charge, merely holding his group’s forward movement and steadying the lines. The front rank interlocked shields and braced, and those behind them reared back their spears, readying their weapons for the killing blow. But I had no intention to give them their wish. I slowed my pace, and at the last minute stopped, picking up a gun carriage and lifting it over my head, crashing through the rafters above.

“BLACKJACK!” I roared, hurling the multi-ton cannon at the shocked faces of the Vershani warriors. The gun tumbled through the Vershani like a runaway avalanche wiping a mountainside bare, flipping over itself and crashing through the deck, supports, and stairs, leaving only carnage and destruction in its wake. A few enemy avoided death or maiming, but they were stunned into inaction by the ferocity of my attack. I dared a glance behind me, at the lovely maid surrounded by my companions. Her eyes gripped me, mouth agape, so alluring. I wanted to go to her, but Brutalis pointed back at our enemies. From the hazy smoke that hung over the deck came forth a wicked looking warrior, larger than the other Vershani, wielding a two-handed mace and wearing heavy armor, lacquered white and polished to a shine.

My companions opened fire on him, but their ammunition was wasted. Gunfire of all kinds bounced off his armor plates. The helm was like a porcelain mask, twisted in a berserk spasm, detailed with black and red, and ringed with broad black feathers that covered the back of his head. His mace was an odd thing, riddled with glowing runes surrounding a central gem that pulsed with anticipation as he stepped closer and closer to me.

“Why do they keep coming, Drovani?” I shouted, seeing a few rushing across the deck on either side of me, braving Brutalis and Morlocki’s fusillade. One got close, riddled with bullet wounds but still daring to attack us. He hurled himself in the air, spear-first, at the woman.

“Honor demands that they kill the goddess,” he said.

“She’s a goddess?” I said, turning back again to face the armored warrior. Unlike the other Vershani, who were throwing their lives away in the vain attempt to kill her, this one was coming right for me.

“And what the hell is this thing?”

Drovani laughed. “It is her wrath, an automaton that is sworn to protect her. It is impervious to all our weapons.”

“Oh, great.”

“We must go,” he said, shuffling back.

“You go,” I said. “I’ll hold back the beastie.”

The thing finally reached me, rocking the massive mace to one side with both arms, intending to bring it across my body and with a powerful swipe, send me flying out of its path.

I shuffled back to avoid the swing, and dove into it the moment the mace head had passed my frame. The automaton was taller than I was, but not as sturdy as I expected. I got past its guard and wrapped my arms around its upper body, intending to lift the thing but it was far heavier than I had expected. With my poor leverage, I only managed to pull it off the ground for a brief moment before it thudded back down on the deck and swung its arms backward, knocking me down to the wooden floor.

It was also fast, stepping forward with surprising deftness and bringing the mace down on me. I had no choice but to throw my arms forward and catch the weapon’s heavy head in my hands, only inches from crushing my face and skull. The force of the blow threw me back, cracking the strong wood beneath me, and only by exerting my full strength was my head saved from a killing shot. The automaton was strong, pinning me down, stepping forward onto me, and slamming a heavy boot down onto my midsection. I groaned in pain, releasing the mace, and it reared back with all its might, to finish me. I couldn’t dodge or avoid the mace, nor roll laterally, with it pressing me down.

Instead, I punched the lower leg with all the strength I could muster, just about halfway between the knee and ankle. The armor shattered like a cracked eggshell, and my opponent collapsed under its own massive weight, its blow missing me completely as I rolled out of the way.

It was down, but not for long, and it swung back the mace at me as I scrambled to my feet, catching me across the right shoulder and knocking me back. Pain shot through my arm, and I knew the limb was useless. I had to do something, and fast, before it got back on its feet and turned me into pulped Blackjack sauce.

I looked around and noticed it had knocked me back toward the side of the ship, and around me rigging was strewn along the deck and cannon. I took a handful of rope with my good hand and rushed the thing, pausing as I neared the edge of its reach, knowing it would swing to keep me at bay. It was digging its fractured leg into the deck, tearing into the wood planks to get on its feet. I didn’t give it a chance, jumping in the air and kicking down with all my might as I landed on it. The flooring exploded beneath us and the robot ripped through the bowels of the ship. The floor fell beneath me and I dropped through the gaping maw into the darkness below.

My handhold on the ropes was tenuous, straining to hold my bulk and momentum as I crashed through a gloomy lower deck. The decks below me ripped and gave once, then again, and I dangled farther into the massive hole beneath me. Looking down, I could see through the bottom hull of the ship and beyond it, to a miles-long fall into the nothingness. The automaton had fallen through, whirling into an endless drop. It was still like a child, renounced to its fate.

The rope slipped, straining on my weight, and I feared I might soon join the Vershani robot, when a pair of hands reached down, grabbing the rope and checking my descent.

It was the “goddess” exerting herself to keep me from certain death. I rose quickly, coming to the lip of the splintered wooden deck. Brutalis and Morlocki grabbed my shoulders sending a shooting pain throughout my neck and back. My shoulder felt separated or fractured somewhere and I roared in pain as they lifted me away from the hole. Drovani and several other crewmates helped the goddess on the rope, so it wasn’t her effort alone that had saved me.

Brutalis, Morlocki, and I collapsed on the deck, heaving in exhaustion.

“You are insane,” the smaller monkey man muttered before breaking into laughter and helping me on my feet.

She walked over to me, her beauty and scent overwhelming me, and I found myself awash in doubt, unable to speak, bathed in her aura.

“You saved my life,” she said, with a voice more akin to the caress of a rose petal. “And for that I thank you.”

My chest welled, overcome with the moment. My breathing became heavy and the beating of my heart thudded in my ears like a hammer. I couldn’t help myself, almost unaware of my own actions as I took her in my arms and kissed her deeply.

She was surprised, flinching at first, but after a moment responded in kind, her lips dancing over mine, her arms clutched against my chest. From that moment on, I forgot myself, what I had been, and what I had hoped for, simply longing to hold her close forever.

It was all I ever wanted.