Pirates of Vallahar, Chapter 6

Chapter 6
Old Debts

         "Ensign Jeffrey Percel, Pedimar Militia; Third platoon; Echo team. What's yours?" the kid asked with the affected confidence of an inexperienced soldier. The beautiful, black-haired woman smiled at him.
         "Vixie," she said simply. The young recruit's eyes widened in recognition.
         "The Vixie? From the Odin?"
         "That's right." Percel looked like he was going to swallow his tongue and almost fell off his bar stool. He gaped at her absurdly for a moment or two.
         "So, is it true... about you and Juryrig?"
         "What do you mean?"
         "I mean... the two of you. You know..."
         "We're business partners, sweetheart. That's it," Vixie cooed as she ordered another drink. Juryrig was supposed to meet her here in about fifteen minutes. They were supposed to talk some kid into joining up with them instead of with some doomed militia squad. When she'd entered the bar, she noticed a young man in the green and guessed that he was the target. As she'd taken a seat next to him, she wondered what would happen if Juryrig walked in and saw her flirting with the green-boy and decided that she'd be very interested to find out. Percel looked like he was ready to jump out of his skin.
         "You know, I'm leavin' on a dangerous mission this afternoon. Official militia business..." he nodded.
         "Really?" Vixie tried her best to look interested and concerned at the same time.
         "Yeah. Hunting a stag invasion force. I might not make it back."
         "Well I can't have that! You know what you should do, Jeffrey? You should come and work with me and Juryrig. I could use a strong young guy like you to help me look after him." She leaned over and whispered in his ear, "He's a good pilot, but he can’t really... take care of things... if you know what I mean..." Percel wiped at the saliva forming on his lips. Vixie turned her face to his, leaning just a little bit closer than she normally would have. "Tell you what. You know what the Odin looks like, right?" Percel gave a zombie-like nod. "Why don't you meet me at the docks by the Odin this afternoon? I'll make sure you're compesated much better than the Pedimar militia ever could..."
         Percel started to sputter incoherently about the militia or duties or something. "You don't want to fly around on a ship full of green-boys for a whole month do you?" Percel shook his head. She gave him a playful slap. "Great. You'll work for me. You'll get twice the adventure, three times the pay, plus much better benefits..." Percel was now as close to comatose as a conscious young man can get.
         "Okay now," Vixie said as she helped the dazed boy to his feet. "Pack your stuff. I don't want you to miss me." She patted him on the butt as he shuffled out of the bar in a dream-like state. After a moment, an excited whoop echoed down the alleys. That was too easy...
         "So when exactly do these benefits kick in?" Juryrig asked suddenly from Vixie’s right. "I'm just curious. Is there a probation period, or what?" She shot him a sardonic smirk, but couldn't hide her flushed cheeks. Juryrig laughed. Vixie turned a challenging eye to him.
         "And you thought all those deckhands I talk into working for you liked you for your personality..."

*          *          *

         The first dart struck the board smack dab in the bull's eye. The second one hit just centimeters to the right, also a bull's eye.
         "I don’t know 'Rig. I think the kid's shot was better." Vixie said from her barstool. Juryrig glared at her.
         "Bartender!" Bullseye called as he walked over to the bar. "Wendigo rum!" He sat down next to Vixie as Juryrig skeptically examined the location of each dart in the board. The bar was empty compared to last night. The only patrons visible were the town drunks and a few merchants gassing up before starting today's runs. The morning sunlight pouring through the windows and the open door gave the bar a cooler, more natural atmosphere than the warmth of the gas lamps last night.
         "So how'd you get to be such a crack shot?" Vixie asked Bullseye as she wiped up a pool of spilled alcohol on the bar with a towel she'd requested from the grumpy bartender.
         "My father," replied Bullseye. "He was the admiral of the Pedimar militia. He used to train me as a kid with an old automatic-loader he found somewhere and refurbished. Ever since he died, I've done nothing but train to join up. Shooting, throwing, slinging: you name it I'll hit it dead center. I can't wait to start tallying up my kills. Those stags are gonna drop in front of us like flies. Soon you'll be hearing about the records I set in every tavern in Vallahar."
         "Where do you get your ammo?" Juryrig called from over at the dartboard, sensing a possible sale.
         "My dad had a small lead-smith shop he'd work on the side. I still run it when I feel like it. If I can't buy bullets from the merchants that come through, I make 'em myself."
         "What happened to your father?" Vixie asked, remembering that this was a recruitment, not a sales pitch. Bullseye took a drink.
         "The stags happened to him. What else? His patrol was ambushed. They didn't stand a chance; it was a training run. I vowed that day to join the militia, work my way up to admiral and wipe every last one of those filthy bugs from the planet once and for all!" Juryrig made his way over and sat down, snorting at such a naïve thought. The stags were here to stay. Humans might as well get used to them. The Earth was now home to two intelligent species. It was a small irony that they were perpetually at war.
         "Wiping them out isn't the answer, because it'll never happen." Juryrig corrected Bullseye. "It's a pipe dream. Rising to the competition is the destiny of humankind now. The stags are the whetstone of the human race, sharpening us into the best we can be. A little healthy competition is just what we all need, as long as we can keep it under control. I don't like the stags any better than you, but don't fool yourself into thinking that they're ever going to go away. They want to survive just as badly as we do." Vixie shot Juryrig a hard look and then turned back to Bullseye in sympathy. He took another drink.
         "Do you think your father would want you to suffer his fate?" she asked.
         "Spare me the psychological bullshit. You're not changin' my mind. I'm going to be the admiral of the Starlight Valley militia and I'm going to wipe out the stag presence in the Northern Wilds within five years. I have no other responsibilities to my family or friends. It's my one and only duty as a human being." Bullseye downed the last of his rum and stood up. "Now if you'll both excuse me, I got a battle cruiser to catch. Good game old man."
         "I thought you weren't leaving until this afternoon,” Juryrig protested as the kid picked up his jacket.
         "We're goin' out early today. Two early morning patrols haven't reported back yet so we may have a fix on that strike force. If you leave, I suggest you avoid the eastern corridor. Unless you got the balls to give us a hand..." Juryrig looked helplessly at Vixie. Bullseye was way too intelligent to respond to simple flirting, and Vixie was at a loss. She shrugged in resignation. Guess we'll have to keep looking. As Bullseye was donning his flight jacket, a silhouette suddenly obscured the beam of sunlight from the open doorway.

         "WELL! It's just like an old family reunion, ain't it?" a harsh voice barked from the door. Vixie and Bullseye both turned to face the newcomer, but Juryrig remained with his back to the doorway and focused on his drink, heart pounding and mind racing. A six-foot tall older man with a shock of reddish-brown hair stood silhouetted in the bright light of the doorway. He was wearing a black leather flight jacket over a barrel of a torso. He cocked his head at Vixie. "You always did like 'em young, Vix!" He sauntered slowly and easily towards the bar. He had a wide, menacing smirk on his face and looked to be in his late forties: A respectable age for healthy men in Vallahar. He looked at Juryrig's back. "'Rig? No warm welcome for your old buddy Jim?" He slid a nearby stool over and sat down next to Juryrig, folding his arms on the bar and looking at the younger man. The bartender slowly backed away from the newcomer, somehow sensing that his larger size was no advantage at all in this particular case. Juryrig didn't take his eyes off his drink.
         "Last time I saw you, you used my crotch as a punching bag," the younger man muttered.
         "Last time I saw you..." the man repeated, feigning a poor memory. "Now that wouldn't be the time you stole all those repulsors from me would it? Nah! Couldn't a' been. 'Cause if I'd a' been there they'd still be mine and your head'd be pounded so far down into your torso you'd have to open your fly to see where you was goin'." Bullseye walked over, sensing the man's poorly masked hostility, and decided to play the 'tough but responsible' green-boy card.
         "Hey, beat it, red. We don't want any trouble here." Vixie grabbed his arm in alarm. The man kept his eyes on Juryrig.
         "I'll sign autographs later short-round. Right now I gotta remind my ol' pal Juryrig what happens when you cross Jim Piper." Bullseye shook himself from Vixie's prudent grasp.
         "So... Captain Piper of The Death Mark brigands. Looks like the Pedimar militia is gonna get itself a bonus catch today!" Bullseye growled at him without fear, tossing his jacket back onto the bar. No, no! Not good at all! Mind your own damn business and get the hell outa here, kid! Juryrig thought to himself in alarm. The kid was good in a bar fight and he was surprisingly big for a seventeen-year-old, there was no question, but even with the three of them...
         Piper slowly turned his gaze from the frightened veteran to the fearless rookie. He rose calmly to his feet, smiling widely and scratching his head compulsively. Juryrig turned to Bullseye and mouthed "back off" with as urgent an expression as he could muster.
         "Yer the kid who started the fight in here last night, ain't cha?" Piper said evenly. In an instant, the pirate snapped. He grabbed his barstool and flung it across the bar in a crazed frenzy. "C'mon punk! You wanna scrap with me!? Throw me a couple and see how grown-ups take it!" The man screamed at him hysterically and shook his head wildly, hands trembling crazily at his sides.
         Bullseye, was used to dealing with psychos in taverns. He wasn't intimidated in the slightest and zipped a lightning quick left at the old man's completely undefended nose. With a meaty smack Piper caught the kid's fist in mid air with a move almost too quick to be seen. The pirate merely smiled, then spun around and slung the kid expertly through the air head over heels into a nearby table with a wooden crash. In an instant, Juryrig was out of his stool and swung his mug at the distracted pirate’s head, but Piper had already turned and shot his arm up to block the strike, splashing rum all over the bar. In the same motion, the pirate sent a jab so fast into Juryrig's gut that the younger man barely had time to register it. Regaining his balance, Juryrig grabbed the older man by the scruff of his jacket in both hands as Piper grabbed Juryrig's arms. As the two men violently grappled, sending stools clattering to the floor, Vixie ran over to Bullseye, not taking her eyes off the fight. The few remaining patrons backed even further away, watching the wrestling men. No one noticed the commotion outside...
         Juryrig gained the upper hand in the grapple and wrapped his right arm around Piper's neck, bending him forward in a front headlock. The pirate surged forward, bashing Juryrig's back into the bar to break the hold. He slipped out of the younger man's grip and spastically nailed Juryrig in the solar plexus with several almost inhumanly quick punches. Then, grabbing two handfuls of his opponent’s hair Piper turned him around and slammed his head repeatedly into the bar until the young smuggler slumped to the floor in a daze. Vixie shouted a challenge at him from behind. He turned to face her.
         The woman had broken the long wooden handle off of a nearby mop and swung it expertly towards the soft bones of his face the second he turned. The pirate zipped his palms upward and caught the staff with a painful sounding smack. Wasting no time, he wrenched the staff away from her with a deceptively skillful twirl. Unfazed and without hesitation, Vixie leaped up onto a nearby table and sprung at him sending a lethal kick towards his head. Piper raised the staff to protect his face and Vixie's foot snapped the mop handle in two, knocking him stumbling backwards. Retaining his footing, the man ducked another kick and wrapped his arms around her middle. Picking her up over his shoulder, he swung her like a one hundred thirty-five pound sledgehammer down onto the table. The table shattered under the force of the impact sending Vixie brutally into the wooden floor, breaking her fall and the table but fortunately nothing else.
         A fist closed around Piper's jacket at the shoulder. He turned and easily ducked as Bullseye sent a wild haymaker over his head. Piper grabbed the kid by the shirt and the back of his pants and sent him headlong into the wall with little effort.
         "C'mon half-pint. You gotta have more'n 'at,” he complained. Vixie, meanwhile, had quietly pulled herself to her feet, catching her wind and scooping up a rolling bottle of liquor that hadn't shattered on the floorboards.
         Piper turned his attention back to Juryrig, just beginning to stir from the floor. Adrenaline now pumping from the lively scrap with his arch nemesis, he flipped out; bouncing around screaming taunts and curses down at the dazed man with a wild, feral look in his bloodshot eyes and looking as though he were seconds away from a coronary episode.
         In his possessed state, he failed to notice Vixie slide up behind him with the hefty glass bottle of whiskey. She wound up and shattered the bottle over the back of his head with a satisfying pop, sending booze dribbling down his head and jacket. His ferocious, bloodthirsty look vanished into a look of serene calmness as he slowly turned around to face Vixie. She wasn't prepared for this response, and as she started to back away, his hand shot out and his thick fingers closed around her throat. He gritted his teeth in a vicious smile and leaned in close to her face as he began to choke the life out of her. From behind, Juryrig pulled himself to his feet, raised a stool over his head, and brought it down hard across Piper's back.
         The stool broke apart on impact and sent the old pirate sprawling away and Vixie to the floor. Amazingly, Piper regained his balance without falling. He turned around and swung one of the legs of the stool at Juryrig like a baseball bat. The younger man ducked just as the pirate whiffed. He fell backwards to avoid a rapid backhand swing, but the tip of the club cut him across the right eyebrow sending him back against the now blood-flecked bar holding his bleeding face. Piper raised the bat over his head to crack Juryrig's melon down the middle when, from behind, Bullseye deftly grabbed a hold of the club. In frustration, Piper turned around and yanked, but the kid had a death grip. As the two men struggled ridiculously for the stool leg, Piper let go with one hand and, forking his fingers, jabbed Bullseye in both eyes in an almost comical eye-poke. The kid barked in pain covering his face with one hand and fell backwards over the broken table, blinking rapidly. Piper raised the bat and brought it down hard, but at the last moment Bullseye rolled to the left and Piper's club clacked harmlessly off the wooden surface.
         The kid still hadn't recovered from the eye poke however, and he tripped over a chair, falling face first onto a wide, short serving table. Piper once again raised the club and approached to brain the young man. Bullseye flipped himself over onto his back as Vixie kicked a nearby chair at the man causing him to stumble onto the table on top of Bullseye. Bullseye grabbed a hold of the club as Piper growled and pushed the stool leg down over Bullseye's throat. Juryrig suddenly appeared from behind, wrapped his arm tightly around the older man's neck, and hauled upwards with all his strength, blood dripping from the cut above his eye. Piper lost his grip on the wooden stool leg but quickly snaked his fingers around Bullseye’s throat. Bullseye dropped the stool-leg and desperately clawed at Piper’s fingers with one hand and reached for his face with the other.
         As the three-man sandwich strangled each other like animals, the remaining bar patrons took once glance at the window just opposite them and sprinted by them on both sides for the door. Vixie glanced out the window and her wide blue eyes became much wider as she backed away.
         "'RIG! We got company!" She dove to the floor. The men simultaneously opened their eyes and looked straight ahead out the large window on the west wall of the bar. A dark brown wooden mass was moving towards them just outside. Almost like the bow of an airship...
         Their simultaneous "Holy shit!" was drowned out as the entire roof and west wall of the tavern exploded inward with a jarring crunch, sending the men flying in all directions as a great battleship smashed through the building.

         Vixie sat up and shook the cobwebs from her head. Stars sparkled in front of her eyes as she checked herself for injury. The Spouter was completely leveled. Ironically, the bar itself was the only thing that seemed undamaged. She glanced around quickly for Juryrig. Several green and brown insectoid creatures were picking through the rubble of another building nearby. There was the sound of distant cannons and screams echoing through the city. Vixie's trained ear gleaned that only the latter were of human origin. They found us!
         There was a rustling next to her. She looked over and saw Bullseye half buried in the rubble and stumbled over to help him up.
         "Never a dull moment around Juryrig is there?" he rasped sarcastically as he pulled himself painfully to his feet.
         "You have no idea." There was no sign of Juryrig or Captain Piper. The bartender surveyed the damage to his bar with a mix of rage, fear, and grief. Bullseye arched his back, rubbing his throat gingerly and looking around. With dawning horror, he suddenly realized what was happening. "Are you ok?" Vixie asked. "We gotta get outa here, there are stags everywhere!"
         "You get outa here!" Bullseye challenged. Furious anger quickly replaced horror. "I'm goin' to put holes in some giant bugs!" He took off into the town.
         "Bullseye!" Vixie called after him in frustration. She glanced angrily from the rubble where Juryrig was nowhere to be seen to the suicidal teenager running off into town and reluctantly took off after him. Juryrig can handle himself. That kid is gonna get himself killed.

         Juryrig heaved a beefy eight-by-eight off his chest and stood up, gasping for breath in the dust. It took him several seconds to get his bearings. As he climbed out of the rubble, two nearby stags noticed the movement and came over to investigate. As he brushed the dust out of his hair and straightened his pants, the approaching stags identified him. Drawing swords from the sheaths that fit over their abdomens, they charged the man, howling horribly. Looking up, Juryrig picked up the heavy support beam he'd just been pinned under and, getting a spinning wind-up, slung it at the charging insects. The post caught them both square across the thorax and practically flattened their brittle, mantis-like bodies.
         The stern of the airship that had wiped out the bar eased overhead allowing sunlight to flood the ruins of the bar. Juryrig saw that the ship was headed deeper into the city. Its cannons were silent, meaning that the bulk of the stag troops were probably already on the ground. He recognized the ship as one that had participated in the ambush the day before. Son of a bitch! He shot a glance around the wreckage for Vixie and Bullseye. Hopefully they got away... Suddenly, he heard a series of rattling barks behind him. Across the street, a platoon of stags had their swords drawn and were charging him. One stag was carrying what looked like a sawed-off shotgun. The ex-pirate did the only sensible thing he could think of: He yelped like a puppy and ran.

*          *          *

         Vixie found Bullseye about a block from the shipyard. He was staring silently at a flaming wreckage that apparently used to be a lead-forge.
         "My shit... all my shit..." Bullseye blubbered in disbelief. Vixie sighed and walked up beside him.
         "My condolences, but we need to get to the Odin right now!" She quickly looked around. "Where the hell are your friends?!"
         "The base is across town!" Bullseye responded as he pointed to a column of smoke rising above the roofs down the street. "Looks like they hit there first." Suddenly an alien voice snarled from behind them and across the street.
         "Zuuni doto mak!" The two humans whirled around to face a dozen stags rushing to encircle them, all of them brandishing melee weapons. Vixie scooped up a lead pipe that fortuitously happened to be lying in the wreckage of Bullseye's house and tried to position her body in between Bullseye and the bulk of the stags already surrounding them. Bullseye raised his fists as the two stood back to back.
         "You ever fought this many stags before?" asked Bullseye apprehensively.
         "Yesterday," she said. "You?"
         "I've never even seen a stag before!" he answered without even attempting to hide his fear.
         "They fight a lot like humans..." she began as the horrible creatures advanced on them. "Go for the neck. It's their weakest spot!" As soon as the words had left her mouth, the stags attacked.

*          *          *

         Juryrig rounded the corner of a storage silo and made his way down a narrow alley, finally stopping to catch his breath. There were stags everywhere. The city was totally overrun. Maybe a detachment from the group that ambushed us yesterday. They must have split up to search the surrounding cities. It’s just like Rapids City. What the hell do they want from me? He thought briefly about Stubbs, violently cursing the stags and the bounty they now apparently had on him. Would it be the death of all of his friends?
         He was deep in an unfamiliar part of town, far from the shipyard and the safety of his ship. He looked around for his pursuers and realized that he'd lost them. Just above the alley, floating silently and gracefully was the great belly of the battleship he'd tried to follow, still skimming the rooftops. As it drifted overhead, he began to formulate a plan. The ship should probably be all but emptied and undefended, most personnel on the ground. At least he hoped. He began to climb up the alley wall, keeping his eye on the keel of the passing ship.
         As he climbed up onto the roof of a warehouse, he noticed the destroyer's giant belly was only a few feet above his head. He turned and watched the aft end of the ship approach, waited for the right moment, and jumped up and caught a hold of the lip of an armor plate. As he pulled his legs up and hung upside down, he looked down at the passing buildings. I gotta be outa my gourd!

*          *          *

         A file of stag infantry marched down a deserted street of the town of Pedimar. The surrounding buildings were since evacuated and this part of town was now completely occupied by stag forces. That is, except for one human... Captain James Piper crouched just out of sight behind a large barrel of mead and watched the patrol go by. Most of the stags carried spears and swords, but he noticed one was carrying an old-fashioned sawed-off shotgun. When they used firearms, stags were known to be partial to shotguns, due to their notoriously bad aim and nearsightedness.
         After the stags had passed, Piper selected his target and fell in line behind the detachment. He slipped in behind the gun-toting mantis as quickly and quietly as he could. Before the creature could react, Piper grabbed the limb that passed for its arm, spun the stag around and bashed its ugly face in. As the rest of the squad turned around, Piper scooped up the shotgun, cocked it, and started blasting away, screaming like a demon. After the nearest stags were blown off their claws, the patrol turned and fled down the street. Piper bellowed at the withdrawing insects and went after them, all the while cocking the rifle and blasting away stragglers.
         As he rounded a corner, he found himself face to face with a horde of stags twice as large as the squad he'd been pursuing. He stopped in his tracks and pulled the trigger. The firing pin dropped with a clap and nothing else. The stag army leveled their spears at him. Piper turned around to flee and what was left of his crazed confidence shattered. An equally large battalion of stags had boxed him in. His expression turned emotionless as the stag sergeant aimed the point of its sword at his face.
         "<Surrender your weapon!>" the stag ordered in its own language. The old pirate didn't flinch.
         "Go ahead 'n kill me," he said. "Gramma'd be proud! Two stag platoons to bring down one Piper!" Several more stags drew their weapons. One of the stag warriors struck the man in the back of the knees with the butt of its spear. Piper dropped to his knees with a grimace and the stag captain snatched the shotgun from his hands. The stag quickly popped a shell into the chamber and buried the barrel in the mans belly.
"<You will accompany us, human...>"

*          *          *

         The hatch on the main deck of the stag destroyer popped open and a decidedly un-stag-like head popped out. The insectoid crew barely had enough time to register the intruder before each taking a round in the head from a large .45 caliber pistol. After the last round in the magazine was fired, Juryrig dropped the gun and readied the cutlass he'd picked up below decks for the three surviving crewmembers. The stags charged with drawn swords and Juryrig began his refined, yet desperate, swing and parry routine. He chopped the first stag through the thorax, but as it went down it took the blade along with it. A second stag swung laterally to decapitate him. Juryrig ducked and the sword cleanly severed the head of a third stag that had gotten too close. Juryrig grabbed the last remaining stag's wrist in an attempt to pry the sword away. The stag wound up and punched Juryrig in the face with its free hand in a remarkably human manner, then forced its open palm against the human's chin and pushed, bending his head back. As the stag forced him backwards, Juryrig finally managed to wrench the stag's hand away with his right hand, still holding its sword arm at bay. The two beings scuffled across the dark brown deck in a grapple for the sword as the great ship slowly drifted out of control just over the town.
         Juryrig slid his feet back behind him and gained the upper hand. He forced the stag backwards and shuffled it over to the side, but at the last moment, the stag twisted itself around and slammed Juryrig's back against the gunwale. It crossed its arms and forced the edge of the sword down towards the man's throat, pinning his arms as it bent him backwards over the safety railing. Grimacing, Juryrig risked a sideways look over his shoulder. He saw that the town was in flames and complete disorder as it slowly drifted by dozens of feet below him. It was a total loss. He thought suddenly about Vixie.
         I believe in you... He didn’t care where the words came from; they were good enough for him. Juryrig pushed with all his strength and twisted himself forcefully sideways. The stag's momentum carried it precariously over the edge, and Juryrig helped it along with a punch to the back of its head, pitching it over the side. The man slumped against the railing to catch his breath as the stag broke apart on the stone street below. He gingerly touched the back of his hand to his bleeding lip and glanced around the deck. Nobody... I got me a free ship!

*          *          *

         A stag warrior thrust its sword at Bullseye. Deftly dodging, the young human caught the stag by the wrist with his left hand, turned, wrapped his right arm around the stag's and dropped to the ground. The creature hit the cobblestone hard and the sword dropped from its broken limb. Scooping up the weapon, Bullseye swung the sword and cleanly decapitated the dazed insect with a yellow squirt of oily blood. He looked across the street at Vixie who had just finished sweeping the street with the rest of the stag unit. He ran over.
         "Are you all right?" he asked.
         "Never been jollier, but we gotta find Juryrig and get the hell out of here!" she said. "C'mon, Galloway is probably waiting for us at the shipyard!"

*          *          *

         With his hands on his head and a shotgun in his back, James Piper marched down the street in stag custody. The stags would probably torture him for information on The Death Mark, he guessed. Since the infamous Repulsor Raid, Piper’s finest hour, the stags had had a steep bounty on his head and the rest of The Death Mark. Now they were probably intent on reclaiming what was left of their lost cargo. The pirate took grim satisfaction in the fact that there wasn't much that wasn't already installed in human ships.
         Piper's reverie was broken when the stag patrol stopped unexpectedly. He looked up to see the big stag battle cruiser descending smoothly towards the platoon.
         "<They must be picking us up here,>" the stag leader clicked to its troops. It turned to Piper, its gun still buried in his side. "<They’ll be sending you to the Artifact, human.>" Piper recognized a threat when he heard one, even if it was only clicks and buzzes.
         The ship was headed right for them and showing no signs of slowing or altering its course. Piper realized something was wrong the moment the stern of the ship brushed the roof of a house right across the square, destroying it. Taking advantage of the distraction, the pirate lunged for his captor's rifle. The stag trumpeted in surprise. As the two wrestled for the weapon, the rest of the battalion scattered in several directions to avoid being flattened by the still descending ship. The shotgun went off with a blast as Piper and the stag fought over it like animals. Piper proved to be the better animal. He managed to jerk the gun away and shove the stag to the ground in the same movement. The stag sergeant tried to scramble to its feet before the pirate could get the gun aimed but to no avail. Piper blasted the stag into a million oily pieces.
         The battleship hit the ground with a resounding crunch. Wood chips and pebbles flew like sea spray before the bow of the ship as the great vessel dragged itself across the town square. Captain Piper discarded the now empty shotgun and dove out of the way of the oncoming airship, spitting gravel that had pelted him in the face. As it skidded slowly past, he grabbed onto the starboard side of the moving vessel and began climbing up the planks and armor plates. A local stone house crumbled apart just below Piper's legs as the ship slid right through it, while the stag raiders fled before the wooden keel to avoid being smashed.

*          *          *

         Ensign Percel was waiting impatiently for Vixie on the docks next to the Odin. A small army of young men surrounded him.
         "Vixie!" he called with relief when he saw her. He eyed Bullseye poisonously.
         "Who are all them?" Vixie asked.
         "I don't know, they say they know you." One of the unidentified men stepped forward.
         "I'm Flintlock. We're friends of Madric Galloway. He told us to meet him here, but he hasn't shown up." That figures... Suddenly, there was a rumbling crash from the west. Vixie looked anxiously across the town where the stag destroyer looked as though it was purposely ramming buildings. What are they doing? "We think he may be cut off from the shipyard," the man went on.
         "Well we can't wait here for him," she responded. "Hopefully he's with Juryrig. So..." she turned to the men. "You boys wanna make a living on an airship?" Percel, Bullseye, and the rest of the motley assortment of late teens and early twenties were hardly any younger than she was, but she had enough experience to order around men twice her age. "Climb aboard! We'll take off and circle the city. I'm not leaving without Juryrig, and he's not leaving unless it's aboard this ship." As the newly hired crew climbed aboard, Vixie brought the repulsors to life and eased the ship up off the dock.

*          *          *

         Piper climbed up over the upper railing onto the main deck of the stag airship dragging its stern through town. He noticed Juryrig next to the flight deck retrieving a long coil of rope from a hook outside the bridge. No stags were in sight. Well, well... As Juryrig approached the short ladder leading up to the upper deck, Piper charged across the main deck from behind. Grabbing him by the jacket, the old pirate slung him off of the ladder and into the port guardrail hard. The younger man grunted in pain.
         "We never finished our discussion earlier, big J," Piper snarled with two fistfuls of the younger man's jacket. Juryrig furiosuly punched the pirate in the gut and jerked out of his grip. Piper ducked a wild swing and then solidly nailed Juryrig on the chin with a lightning fast right. Juryrig lost his balance and staggered backwards from the deceptively powerful strike. Piper reached down and scooped up the coil of rope his opponent had been holding. Juryrig bounded up the ladder to the upper deck with Piper close behind. As the old pirate climbed halfway up the steps, Juryrig kicked him in the face. Piper rocked back but retained his grip on the ladder with one hand, grinning as a drop of blood ran down his chin. He jumped up onto the deck, feinted with a left hook, and then floored the man with a devastating uppercut.
         As the dazed Juryrig slowly pulled himself to his hands and knees, Piper wrapped the rope several times around the taller man's throat from behind and pulled. Juryrig groped at the coils choking the life out of him.
         "See what happens when you cross the Pipes!?" Piper bellowed into his ear. Juryrig's face began to turn blue. He heaved himself forward and forced himself up onto his feet, lifting Piper, still clutching the rope, off the ground. With the confused Piper riding piggyback, Juryrig shuffled over to the steering wheel, fighting off the blackness threatening to overtake his vision. Just as he was about to lose consciousness, he stepped up onto the nearby guardrail, and then collapsed backwards against the steering pegs on the wheel of the ship.
         He heard a foggy yowl of agony from Piper and a heavy snap as the wheel broke loose. Rasping horribly, Juryrig unraveled the rope, then, giving neither himself nor Piper time to recover, turned around and returned the favor; winding it tightly around the temporarily paralyzed pirate's neck. Momentarily ignoring the anguishing Piper and his own tunnel vision, Juryrig tied the other end of the rope into the spokes of the broken wheel lying beside the writhing captain.
         The Odin, meanwhile, was approaching the port side of the disabled battleship. Juryrig was thankful that they didn’t start blasting away at the stag ship. Vixie must have seen him on the deck. Or, more likely, figured that no stag would run a ship into the ground and intuited that Juryrig must have had something to do with that.
         As he picked up the heavy wheel, Juryrig saw green spindly figures crawling up over the guardrail across the main deck at the bow of the ship. Taking notice, the first few began to draw their weapons and approach. One began taking shots at him with a large caliber pistol similar to the one he'd found below deck. With a last burst of energy, Juryrig heaved the steering wheel over the side and made for the Odin, the stags on an intercept course. The wooden wheel, still tied to Piper by the thirty foot rope, landed in a tree and lodged itself tightly in its pine branches. Piper stood up to pursue the fleeing smuggler, but was abruptly yanked backwards by the neck. He pulled angrily at the cord as it dragged him towards the stern of the drifting ship.
         He finally he got the rope loose but it was too late. Juryrig had climbed aboard the Odin amid a hail of gunfire and she peeled off into the sky leaving the pillaged city behind. The stags raced for the helm to pursue, only to find it missing. Piper shot a glance into the sky at the departing vessel just before vaulting overboard down onto the roof a nearby grain refinery. After a heavy landing and a roll, he stood up and brushed himself off.
         "This ain’t over 'Rig..." he growled hoarsely as the stag ship skidded off into a grove of trees. He jumped down off the roof and started for the shipyard. "Next time it won't be so easy... Next time we finish it."

         By the time the stag lieutenant found the bodies of the stags who'd been guarding the shipyard, the small Death Mark transport was already a mile away from the town and accelerating in the general direction of the Vaspur Wastelands.