Wind Dancer: Secret War Steampunk Series - Adventure, Mystery + Mad Science (7 page)

Saira began peeling off layers as she went, grabbing the suit
that had her name above it. No one bothered about skin lasted long on an
airship, there simply wasn't room. She put it beside her on the bench, and sat
to pull off her boots.

“Oy, Saira!" Tikku called from down the room in a
lilting voice. "When do I get to suckle those big bubbies of yours?" Tikku
had started the joke upon her first boarding action. Saira, far from finding it
annoying, thought it endearing in a way. Saira stood, pulling on the rubber
leggings up her limbs. Feeling impish, she cooed back to the woman without
missing a beat.

"Why tonight, Tikku, my light of love," Saira
gushed breathlessly. For a moment, all other chatter died in the room.

The only things more guaranteed to get her Tigers attention
than a boarding action were sex, pay, and grog, although not always in that
order. It was common knowledge that the islander Tikku really only fancied the
males. That sort of knowledge traveled quickly onboard ship.

Tikku’s running joke though, gave voice to what half of them
thought upon seeing Saira’s ample endowments, the Arms-Master knew. Her usual
answer to Tikku was a good natured
get stuffed
in increasingly inventive
language that had grown into part of the Tigers boarding ritual. It also reminded
anyone what they’d get if Saira wasn’t interested at the same time. This was a
new turn though, and the others stopped to see how it would play out.

"Really?" Tikku had frozen in surprise, a boot in
one hand. Her voice now held a slight quiver to it, and her eyes were wide as a
startled deer’s.

"Aiya, tonight," Saira replied sweetly. She stood
slowly with a sultry smile, pulling on the rubber tunic. Saira left the frogs
open until she had to close them. Most did. The rubber didn’t breathe at all,
and there was no point in sweating more than you had to. After fastening her
knife belt in place, she stood facing Tikku with her hands on her hips,
thrusting her exposed chest out. "In your dreams, that is," she
finished in the same breathless voice.

The whole room, including Tikku, howled with laughter, and
went back to their preparations. Saira crossed to the other wall and unplugged
her personal pistol, checking that the small needle showed full charge. She
placed it in the holster at the small of her back. She then chose an electric
rifle from the rack, checked it as well, and then pulled the strap over her
head.

Ravin, standing next to her, pulled another bandoleer of
shotgun shells over his shoulder. He also had two revolving pistols at his
belt.

“Arms−Master," he said to her, "I still do
not see why you like the sparkies so much. Once you have fired your shots, it
is just a big club. It is not as if you can carry a Tesla engine around with
you to reload it."

Saira hefted the rifle, caressing it before placing it on a
sling over her shoulders.

“I prefer how precise these are in the killing.” She gestured
at his shotgun, “Yon gunpowder cannons are loud, smelly, and kick like a mule.
Besides, with a sparkie, if I can see them then they are already dead. When the
sparkies are empty, why then I have these," She patted the hilts of her Sheffield
blades. The forearm length custom knives had been her uncle’s parting gift when
she left his merchant ship to go out on her own. Between her training in Naga Darkways,
and her uncle’s rough−house methods, she knew that there were few who
could stand against her in close quarters. Ravin shook his head.

"I would rather continue to keep them at a
distance," he said patting the automatic shotgun. “I am not good with the
blades like you are.”

Saira gave him a smile, “True, although you are not that bad.
We will see to it that you get better,” she promised. “I, on the other hand,”
her smile grew even bigger and somewhat evil, “am very good. And not bad with
the blades either.” Ravin started shaking his head at this not sure if she was
teasing him or not.

 “With respect Arms-Master,” he said diffidently, bobbing his
head. “I cannot always tell when you are serious and when you are not.”

“That is what my mother always says,” Saira patted him on the
cheek. His face actually turned darker beneath his skin as blood suffused it.
How charming, she thought in amusement, he was actually blushing. Her eye
turned towards the movement at the door, seeing Cap’n Will enter.

He was dressed for boarding in a black rubber suit with the
battle vest over it, the gun belt at his hips holding his repeater pistol on
one side, balanced by an equally long Bowie knife, on the other. Saira patted
Ravin on the shoulder, and walked over to stand by the Captain.

“Listen up all,” she said. Everyone quieted, looking at her
expectantly. “Gather ‘round. The Cap’n is going down with us, and he will be
explaining the drop.” Everyone gathered quietly around Will who laid out a
rough sketch of target ship on the bench.

“Here’s the plan. We’re closing on Hu Fan’s junk. There’s a
single breech loader on the fore deck, what looks to be two light Gatling's on
the aft deck. No other heavy guns that we can see. Reckon the crew’s about a
hundred or so all up. ” He pointed while he talked. “We’re going to steam bath
the fore deck, and drop down on her there. Dancer will be angled to give us
suppression fire over the aft deck with the Hotchkiss Guns.” He handed the
briefing off to Saira with a wave.

“Georgios, Abdul, you will spike the breech loader,” Saira
picked up the briefing without a pause. The two strong men nodded solemnly.
Saira continued, “Miriam, you will stand with them to cover a retreat if we
need one.” The ginger−braided woman patted her long rifle cockily, “You
got it boss,” she said. Saira nodded at her.

“I will lead one group down the port side,” Saira reminded
them, “the Captain will lead the other down the starboard side.” Will nodded in
agreement at her. She looked around at them. “You all know the way of it, we
have trained for this. There is plenty of cover spread across the deck. Advance
as fast as you can, but do not do anything stupid. Support each other in the
advance, and make over-lapping fields of fire. They may only be slaver scum,
but do not let that get you cocky. We move fast, hit them hard. Do not give
them time to organize.”

“We givin’ any quarter?” Abdul asked. Saira looked towards
Will for an answer to that. Will judged the faces looking at him, weighting his
answer.

“I’m inclined not to give any quarter,” he finally announced.
“What do you all think?” A deep sound like the growl of a large animal answered
him. While no saints themselves,
Wind Dancer’s
crew wasn’t much inclined
to mercy towards slavers or raiders to begin with, and the tales of Hu Fan had
only hardened that inclination. Will nodded at this response as if he expected
no less.

“No quarter it is then,” he proclaimed.

Everyone had their own reasons to hate slavers, Saira
reflected. The older veterans had already chosen not to become wolves after the
war, despite how easy it would be given the savagery around them. The younger
crew had seen what true evil outlaws and reavers did, and rejected it. They may
have joined for the money, or the killing, or both, but there some lines that
were not crossed. The actions of Hu Fan at their last meeting had crossed those
lines, she thought, and they all knew it. Dancers did not forget, or forgive.

“I want to remind you though,” Will said, “what our primary
mission is. What we’re here for is a metal cylinder about so tall marked with a
thunderbolt.” He held his hands about two feet apart. “That’s our pay off. I
reckon that Hu Fan will either have that below decks in his quarters, or in a
strong room somewhere. First to find it, let Saira or me know. If we’re still
fighting, we’ll start to regroup to the lift point with it. That’s our first
priority. All goes well we’ll lift with it, and burn the ship down.” There was
a second growl of agreement around the room at that. “Otherwise we keep at them
until they’re all dead, and then we find it.” He looked around with his eyebrow
raised, “any questions?”

“Do we care about the ship?” asked Tikku. She had two
fighting sticks thrust through her belt besides pistols and she toted a shotgun
almost as large as she was.

“Not as such,” Will replied. “We’re getting paid enough that
we don’t need her for a prize.” He held up a finger in admonishment, “That
said, no grenades, and the Hotchkisses will be slanting their fire. We want
that cylinder; I don’t want to sink the ship under us before we get it.”

Georgios, as usual before a boarding rasped, “What we getting
paid for this bloody cylinder again?”

Will grinned at him, and repeated the figure. There was a
moment of almost reverent awe at the sum.

“Must be somebody’s bloody nacker for that much,” Georgios
growled. Everyone laughed. Then the chime sounded overhead, signaling that they
were nearing the attack run. Saira quickly ticked them off into two teams either
to follow the Captain or her.

“Any problems, or final questions?” Saira asked. Silence
answered her. She nodded as if that was what she had expected. “Alright,” Saira
said, “get to the bay, watch each other’s back, and remember…” On cue everyone
raised their fists and roared the
Wind Dancer
motto with one voice, “No
one gets left behind!” Not a one of them, quick or dead, would be abandoned
when the ship lifted as was common among some other airships. That mattered.
That was what made them
Wind Dancers
. They moved quickly down the
corridor towards the cargo doors. Every one of them, Saira thought with
satisfaction, knew that Hu Fan was as good as dead.

Chapter Seven

Foredeck, the Sea Ship Destiny

Indian Ocean

Yuan had served Hu Fan since the time when he was still a
boy. When the Sky Demons had come, they had destroyed everything in Yuan’s
young world. His father’s last act had been to push his son through a small
gate in the compound wall before the Demons fire ray had taken him,
obliterating both Yuan’s family and his home in flame and terror.

He had become one of the many refugees, stripped of position
and wealth. He was always hungry and scared. Hu Fan had found him, and promised
that if Yuan followed him, he would never be scared again. Until recently, Hu
Fan had kept that promise. Yuan had learned from his teacher well, becoming
deadly and ruthless, while to Yuan’s mind Hu Fan had become even more cunning
over the years. They had preyed on the weak sheep of the whole South Seas, and everyone
was afraid of them. They had prospered and their joss had grown. But now, Yuan
was the one afraid.

It had started when his master, Hu Fan, had entered into the
accursed deal with the pale Englishman who called himself Thaddeus Kane. Hu Fan
agreed to smuggle the small cylinder, which seemed to have a great value for
something so small. The addition of the woman Scholar that Kane had lured
aboard with him at the last moment was a trivial matter in comparison. It was
easier than a hold of human sheep to carry. Too easy for the money, Yuan now
saw.

Of course, Hu Fan had no intention of honoring the deal. Once
they were in the open seas, Hu Fan planned to be rid of Kane, and then
negotiate better prices with whoever would pay most for either the cylinder or
the woman Scholar. They had done such many times over the years. That was how
the world worked.

But then, in Hu Fans cabin, the impossible had happened. The
Englishman Kane had drunk the poisoned tea strong enough to kill a dozen men,
with no effect save to rouse the Englishman's anger. The ensuing fight had been
a nightmare. Kane had crushed the throats of two of Yuan’s best men before they
could even raise their swords. Kane had shrugged off both bullets and sword
thrusts with ease, killing men with his bare hands until Yuan had taken him
from behind. A single sword stroke had decapitated the monster. For monster
Kane had been. No honest red blood that gushed came out of the trunk of the
twitching body Yuan had severed the head from, only a pale pink jelly-like fluid
that slowly oozed. For the first time in his life, Yuan had seen Hu Fan as
terrified as he was himself.

They had calmed the crew after disposing of the body. Many
whispered of devils and evil spirits angered. Yuan had beaten some of the
whisperers himself while terrified that they were right. Hu Fan had not been
himself ever since, taking to his cabin, singing strange prayers in the night.
Then the accursed airship had found them.

Hu Fan had stayed in his cabin like a woman, leaving Yuan to
rally the crew to fight off the
Wind Dancer
. Yuan remembered Hunting Owl
from before as a cunning warrior. That he simply didn’t stand off and use their
cursed lightning cannon said that Hunting Owl wanted something other than
revenge, likely either the cylinder or the woman. Hu Fan would have known how
to use that knowledge to their advantage. Yuan simply didn’t care. He had no
intention of trying to bargain with Hunting Owl. That would show weakness. Even
now he watched the blinking light from the airship pleading with him to
surrender, which simply gave away how weak they were.

It also meant that Yuan had a chance. He had ordered them to
turn about so that the fore cannon could be used to better effect. No air
captain risked his ship getting holed lightly. If Yuan could keep the looming
grey hulk beyond boarding range until dark, they might still slip away. Thus,
he had come to the forecastle to take command of the main gun himself.

“No, you son of a sow,” Yuan screamed. He kicked the gunner
away from the sight. “The elevation must be higher!” he waved angrily at the
two deck hands who frantically worked to raise the gun barrel.

Yuan placed himself to sight the barrel, and waved for them
to stop. He grimaced while taking hold of the firing lanyard. “Now, die!” he
screamed at the ship and jerked the lanyard. The gun gave a roar. Yuan followed
the shot, seeing it fall just short of the lower hull of windows where he knew
the ship was steered from.