Chương 176: Chapter 174 – Welcome to the Airborne, Sir Robin

Two days of storms meant plenty of time for the team to practice with the drop harnesses in the limited space afforded by the pilot barracks. By the time Moriarty shuffled in from the rain with Ashfeather, most of the team was more or less proficient. Cole had taken to it like he was born in the harness, what with his innate and now reflexive ability to manipulate his own gravity.

The harness functioned more like a jetpack than a parachute for him, allowing him to ascend or descend as he desired, much to the amusement of the rest of the team. Moriarty shook off his poncho. Cole floated down to him and dropped onto the flagstones that made up the floor of the hangar.

"Christ, that's like Florida in hurricane season out there. Or maybe Norway in hurricane season." He glanced at Ashfeather.

"A thick layer of down might be just the thing. Maybe I should join their religion."

"Hell," said Cole, making sure Ashfeather was out of earshot watching Besson descend from the upper level with Clove clipped to his kit, "Knowing you, you'd probably be head priest inside a year." Moriarty chuckled.

"I could get used to a cult following." That statement was a little too close to not being joking for Cole's comfort. Cole followed Moriarty's eyes to the jump practice.

"You guys are really going to jump out of Starlit aircraft in those things?"

"Not the first aircraft I've stepped out of," Cole reminded him. He watched Howie grit his teeth, close his eyes, and flail his arms as he half-slid-half-slumped off the second level catwalk.

"How do they work?"

"Charges. Feed a charge in, the salt starts to push in whatever direction the crystals are aligned. Apparently it's what keeps these mountains in the air. Whatever lands still have bound gods, anyway."

"You mean…?" Cole nodded.

"The majority of each god's power just goes toward keeping these mountains out of the sea." Moriarty shivered.

"So you-know-who had us laid out like rotisserie chickens with one wing tied behind his back."

"Pretty much." Cole pulled out his vape.

"Still. Gives us options. Cut off the head of the snake, the whole thing comes tumbling down."

"Good fuckin' thing those stormtroopers didn't breach the birdbath. You'd be learning to swim instead of float." Cole changed the subject.

"What'd Director Bricker say?"

"He said it's your call. You're the team lead pulling the extraction." Cole nodded.

"You don't think the big guy was lying about the curse?"

"I know he wasn't," said Moriarty.

"At least, he believes it. Maybe there's a workaround, maybe there isn't—but he did something to that girl that he thinks will keep her here."

"How do you know?" Moriarty hesitated a moment.

"My passive ability tells me when people are lying. The problem is, when you're that powerful, spent that long manipulating people, the truth becomes a more dangerous weapon than any lie." Cole huffed.

"That was almost profound."

"It was hella profound," whined Moriarty.

"I'm just unappreciated. What's your call, Airborne? Snatch or scrub? You can't save everyone. I won't fuck you on the March, if that's what you're worried about. This shit is beyond suss." Up above, Roxy took a running leap off the catwalk, drifting almost to the other side of the hangar before her toes brushed the ground. She grinned and jogged toward the steps for another go. Cole shook his head. Like a kid in an amusement park. Cole considered, watching Wayland and Alexa jump.

"You joining us on the hunt?" The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"You wouldn't be earning much of a favor if I was." Figured. Moriarty must have read something of that on his face, because Moriarty cut him off.

"Relax, Airborne. I'm not sitting on my laurels. We're spinning up to touch the March. I'll make first contact with the locals after we get some drone recon." Despite their rocky relationship, Moriarty had done as promised. He had the location of the rescue, the support of the locals, and he was making strides toward the next operation. But intel could only go so far, especially in off-world situations without support. The only real way to figure things out was to survive long enough to lay eyes on the target.

Without recon, intel was just educated guesswork. No one could know what was really going on in that temple until they were inside of it.

"We continue the extraction, then. If there's a chance we can pull Monica out, I want to take it. Hopefully those dragons aren't as bad as the tank automatons on Hexighast. We've got lightning resist gear, and I'll take lightning over lasers any day." Moriarty nodded.

"Alright. I'll relay intent. We'll keep the light on. And I should have something for you soon." His gaze tracked Roxy's second descent.

"Is it crazy that I want to try one of those before I go back? She makes that look fun as hell." Cole shrugged.

"Have at." * The storm broke the next day. A fist hammered on Cole's barracks room door. He was awake instantly, hand moving towards his sidearm on the small stone table beside the bunk as he untangled Roxy's arms from around his middle. She groaned and pulled the blankets up. Despite the small size of the bunks, Cole had awoken to find Roxy wrapped around him all three nights. It worried him a little that he was comfortable enough to not wake up from it happening.

Voices outside the door—human voices—made Cole relax. Wayland and Nona, and he could smell the faint iron odor he'd begun to associate with beef liver. Neither sounded upset. He clipped on his outer belt and sidearm holster before opening the door to find not only his two teammates, but the avian warrior, Nakaniel, as well.

"Weather's getting lighter," said Wayland.

"Nakaniel has already ordered the birds prepped and charged." Cole listened to the rumbling of the thunder.

"Still sounds rough."

"We wait for starlight and we'll have dragons down our gullets before we're within a stone's throw of that mountain." He tapped the side of his beak.

"Trust an old campaigner. The weather's clearing."

"Wake the others," said Cole, looking to Wayland and Nona. Nakaniel nodded in approval. Cole went back in to see Roxy rising, still groggy, and starting to pull together her kit.

"Go-time?" she mumbled. Cole nodded. He pulled on his own fatigue blouse and plate carrier, stuffing his effects back into his pack. His rifle leaned against the table, so relaxed it practically drooped over it with a ninety-degree bend in the barrel. Cole sent it a pang of waking. Over the last few days he'd also gotten some practice in communicating with the rifle—who had radiated boredom. This was the longest it had been off-world without being fired, after all.

Outside in the hall, the tromp of boots and pounding on doors signaled the rest of the team being notified. Once Cole finished packing, he slung his pack, picked up the ravenous rifle, and headed out to the main level. Roxy was still getting dressed. Either she was dragging her feet or Cole could change as fast as Clark Kent. In the main hangar, the floor buzzed with activity.

Starlit warriors shuffled in from the rain, shaking off their weather gear and carrying rifles with canvas wrapped around the barrels and bolt actions. A couple, here and there, carried an automatic or an otherworld armament, but it seemed like most of them favored long, light, machined rifles. What few aircraft were stored in the barracks hangar had been uncovered. Pilots and techs climbed over them, inspecting them for damage or danger.

They pulled up cowling, checked control surfaces, and secured salt crystals in their harnesses while loading spares into the cargo compartments. Cole watched for a time while he waited for the rest of the team to catch up. Besson and the pups were first, then Howie, then Alexa. Roxy came out with Wayland and Nona, who had been on watch. Well, Wayland had been on watch. And apparently he'd spent enough time on Kevlesh that Nona considered him an honorary otherworlder.

She'd taken something of a liking to the oddball cursemonger, a pairing Cole would not have expected. Down below, several of the priest caste with their colorful robes shuffled in from the rain as well. Ashfeather pulled back his rain hood and went to speak with Nakaniel. Several of the temple adherents pointed up to the second level catwalk where Cole stood and bowed toward them. Cole dipped his head but frowned. Nona stepped up behind him.

"The priests are coming with us," she said.

"They're not soldiers," said Cole, nodding down to the armed warriors in disciplined ranks.

"Neither am I," said Nona.

"There are deific casters among the priesthood. They'll be useful."

"If they don't freak out. They weren't much use when the paratroopers fell on us."

"Not in ways you saw," said Nona.

"But I could feel ritual magic. They were doing something—I think to the pilots of those smaller aircraft." Cole wasn't completely convinced. But he hoped Nona was right. She knew more about this deific shit. Worst came to worse, they had two deific mages of their own now, between Wayland and Nona. Of course, Nona was more like a spy or a secret squirrel assassin than what Cole would ever have expected from a class that appealed to directly to LF governing bodies.

Wayland at least made ritual blood offerings like a proper cultist. Outside, through the wind and rain, over a dozen aircraft had been hauled out of other hangars and lined up on the strip, ready to taxi and take flight. The Starlit officers started shouting, calling the warriors to attention and starting a pre-battle chant.

"Come on," said Cole.

"Looks like things are about to start shaking.