Born Hero Read online

  “Mind if I have a look around?” David asked as he finished climbing the tower stairs. “I’ve never seen the cockpit of a Sunbeam before.”

  “Not at all,” Arold said, seeming all too eager to show off his ship. He appeared to be as stereotypical as pilots came: cocky and eager for everyone to know it. “Have you ever flown an airship before? It’s a bit like driving a steam car except it goes two additional directions, and if you crash, everybody dies.” He flashed a smile and chuckled at a joke he’d obviously told a thousand times.

  “I have actually,” David said just as Mercy caught up with him and looked around his shoulder at the controls.

  “Really?” Arold said, staring at David like he’d robbed the cookie jar. “What kind?”

  “A Seeker 17, a Condor Light, and a couple different skiffs. Never anything this nice,” David said as he admired the altitude control.

  “My, that’s quite a portfolio. This ship isn’t much different than a Condor. Newer and fancier, but it really only has one additional mode of steering. See there.” He pointed to a couple levers next to the altitude controls. “Those allow you to roll the ship a degree by heating one of a pair of balloons in the bottom of the keel.”

  David looked at the controls and nodded. “It is similar. What about the sectioned central balloon controls?” He pointed at a row of six switches. “Could those also be used for pitch control?”

  Arold thought about it for a moment. “Yes, I suppose they could, but I think that might make your pleasure cruise passengers a bit unhappy.”

  David smiled. He had never flown for pleasure cruisers before, but that made sense. He looked out the cockpit window and saw they were near the middle of the Maw, only a few hundred feet off the ground. “How fast are we flying? The ground is passing faster than it feels like we’re moving.”

  Arold squinted at a dial. “We’re at … 176 grandfathoms an hour.”

  David’s mouth fell open. “Really—176? But the wind … Why aren’t we being blown off the back of the ship?”

  “Ah, that would be the Sunbeam’s aerodynamics. They really are amazing ships. You see those glass plates at the bow?” He pointed to some glass fins glittering in the sunlight that David hadn’t noticed before. “Those direct the air over the top of the ship. We could move like a hurricane, and you’d still only feel a light breeze.”

  David gawked, looking first at Captain Arold and then at Mercy.

  “If you don’t believe me, try reaching a hand over the side as far as you can, though I’d take a good firm grip on the railing before ya do.”

  David climbed down the tower stairs and walked to the railing, Mercy at his heels. He gripped the railing with his mechanical arm and reached out as far as he could with his other hand. His fingers passed an imperceptible barrier and dipped into such a strong wind that it flung his hand away. David turned a giddy smile to Mercy.

  “Hold on to me,” she said. “I want to try.”

  She stepped close to David and presented her hand. David took it as she leaned over the railing and let her fingers bounce off the wind wall.

  Mercy laughed and said something, but David wasn’t listening. A flash on the horizon behind the ship caught his eye, something that looked like a glint of metal off the mountains to their right.

  David pulled Mercy back onto the airship and walked slowly to the stern, his eyes never leaving the point where he saw the glint.

  “David? … What is it?” Mercy asked, but the words didn’t penetrate David’s wonderings.

  The mountain where he’d seen the glint led back to a crevasse reaching some unknown depth into the Rorands. Then he saw it again, the same glint.

  “Look,” David said, “right there … in the split of the mountain. Do you see anything?”

  Mercy looked for a moment. “No. Did you?”

  “I thought I did. But I don’t see it anymore.”

  David climbed back up to the control tower and borrowed Captain Arold’s spyglass. Then he walked to the edge of the stern and looked through the glass. It wasn’t a crevasse at all; it only looked like one at a distance. The mountain split and a cave burrowed deep into its depths, but there was nothing glinting there, just rock and dust. David scanned along the mountainside for a moment with the glass. Then he saw it yet again, the same glint. As he focused the glass on the spot, he saw the top of an airship rise above the foothills of the Rorand Mountains, and then dip back down into concealment. He only saw it for a moment, but he would know that kind of ship anywhere. A low-profile build and a long, slender balloon enabled it to fly close to the ground, gliding in and out of mountains and hills without ever being seen. He only saw a glint because most of the ship, save the prow, was dust brown in color. All in all, the ship resembled a voxil, stalking through the grassland, seeking prey—exactly like an Outlander Prowler.

  PROWLERS

  David gasped, leaning forward on the rail and peering through the spyglass at the last spot he’d seen the ship before it had dipped down beneath the hills. It couldn’t be a Prowler. Nobody had seen one of those in half a decade. He gazed at the next foothill for a space of heartbeats, each one thudding in his ears, praying he was wrong. When nothing emerged, he exhaled the breath he hadn’t known he was holding. But then the ship crested another hill, dusty brown and blending with the surrounding landscape. David stiffened.

  What should he do? Run to the captain and yell like a little girl that Outlanders were chasing them? That was exactly what he should do. Well, maybe he could scratch the little girl part. But what if he was wrong? No one had heard of or seen a Prowler in cycles. Why should he see one on his first trip to the Maw? On the other hand, what if it was a Prowler? What of Blythe? What of the speakership? What of Mercy? That struck a chord with David. He snapped the spyglass shut and ran for the control tower, nearly knocking Mercy down.

  “Captain Arold, I … I think I saw an Outlander Prowler, sir,” David said, even now losing his nerve.

  Arold looked at him for a moment, eyebrows tickling his hairline. Then his lips puckered and his eyes crinkled as he threw his head back and laughed.

  David felt the idiot, but he endured. “To the southeast, sir. If you will just have a look.”

  Arold kept laughing until David nudged him with the man’s own spyglass, and he noted David’s troubled face.

  “Nonsense, my boy,” Arold said. “There hasn’t been a Prowler sighting for almost six cycles. Poor devils finally died out in that wretched desert.”

  “Sir, I’m sure—I mean, I’m pretty sure I can identify one. We studied them at the academy. It might be prudent to have a look yourself.” David felt fully flushed by this point.

  Arold took his spyglass back and, with no small amount of amusement, held it up to his eye with a sigh. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Right there,” David said as he saw the same prow crest a hill and dip into a ravine. It was getting closer.

  “Where?” Arold asked between smiling lips while squinting through the glass due south. Did the man not know what southeast meant?

  David reached up and nudged the glass toward the correct place right as the Prowler crested yet another sand dune even closer. David didn’t even need a glass anymore to make it out.

  “Okay,” Arold said, “so there’s a ship out there. No telling if it’s a Prowler or not. Probably just a House Floyd citizen having a bit of fun in a Sand Sailor.”

  “But there isn’t a sand tail or any dust,” David said, losing his confidence.

  But if it was a Prowler, precious seconds were slipping away, each one diminishing their chance for escape. The Sunbeam was magnificent and toothless. If it came to a fight, they could not bite back.

  “Come now, lad. I’ve sailed these sands many times, and I’ve seen a few Prowlers in my day.” Arold patted David on the back as he spoke. He snapped his spyglass shut, slid it into a pocket, and turned back to his controls. “That was a particularly good spot, though. You must have good eyes.”
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  David melted a little bit as he turned back to Mercy, who had followed him up the stairs. “I don’t think Prowlers exist anymore, David,” she said.

  Her tone was sweet, but it still made David flush with embarrassment. He didn’t answer. Instead he took one more look at the foothills. The same ship crested a sand dune not a grandfathom back. It was getting closer, but he put it out of his mind and watched the captain level off their descent to the floor of the Maw.

  “Yes, my boy, I don’t think we will see Prowlers in these parts anymore. Simply isn’t profitable with our Border Armada keeping watch.” Arold turned around and smiled at David, but as he did so, his eyes went wide.

  David looked over his shoulder and saw the ship soar over one last rocky ledge and race into the Maw directly behind the Sunbeam.

  Captain Arold cursed and slammed the throttle down, throwing David to the back of the control tower. Mercy nearly fell down the stairs as the Sunbeam surged forward. David gripped the railing and pulled Mercy to her feet. When next he looked out the back of the control tower, the Prowler was right on their tail.

  “What is it?” Mercy asked as she also grabbed the railing.

  “That is a Prowler,” David said. He wasn’t rubbing it in—how could he when all their lives were in danger?

  The long, narrow Prowler had behaved in typical Outlander fashion: hide in the low hills until it could sneak up and pounce on the wayward ship. Prowlers had no real manufacturer; rather they were crafted from scavenged parts taken from freight haulers, miners, and the occasional pleasure cruiser. This particular Prowler sailed slightly off kilter, its balloon and decking unbalanced. Whether this was on purpose or just a construction flaw, David didn’t know.

  However, he did have a rather good idea what its capabilities were. His father had fought a few Prowlers, and he’d said the slowest could top two hundred grandfathoms an hour, which was about as fast as a Sunbeam could fly. What a Prowler couldn’t do was turn. All its engines were affixed to the rear of the long ships, giving it excellent top speeds, but only in a straight line. In addition a Prowler’s low-profile balloon limited its maximum altitude. All these limitations were fine when matched against heavy mining haulers, but against a Sunbeam?

  So the question was: Why was Arold trying to evade the Prowler in a manner that pitted his weaknesses against their strengths? David looked at the captain. The man was angling the Sunbeam toward a dust storm, its center flickering with dry lightning. David looked back again. The Prowler was so close that he could see its guns tracking the Sunbeam’s every move, but they weren’t firing. Why?

  Never forget to look where no one else is. This was a trap. They were being herded, but where? David peered into the dust storm as it swirled a few grandfathoms ahead. If Arold hoped to hide a golden pleasure cruiser in that, he would be sorely disappointed. Dust storms were perfect for hiding Prowlers, but not Sunbeams.

  David sucked in a breath. “Captain.”

  “Not now, lad.”

  “But, sir, there is another Prowler in that dust storm.”

  Arold said nothing as he pulled back the throttle a little and pointed the Sunbeam straight toward the dust storm. David’s mouth fell open. Why would he slow the ship? And why hadn’t he heated the balloon and risen above the Prowler’s range? Every lesson David’s father had ever taught him screamed in protest. What was this idiot doing? Perhaps the captain had a trick up his sleeve. After all, he had fought Prowlers before, hadn’t he? But on the other hand, if the situation didn’t change soon, they would all be slaves within the next five minutes. Unless that’s what the captain wanted? How easy would it be to thwart Blythe’s rise to power with a simple kidnapping? How much easier to bribe a simple pleasure cruiser captain? David knew he was thinking nonsense, but this was no longer a game. Their situation was dire.

  As the dust storm loomed ever closer, David peered into its depths, looking for a second Prowler. Perhaps there wasn’t one. But just then he noticed Captain Arold doing something very peculiar. The captain took a small rope and tied the wheel in place. Then he opened a small cupboard and pulled out a life-balloon.

  “Last time I flew through a dust storm, I nearly died of a lung infection,” Arold said as he strapped the vest on. “I’d recommend breathing through a cloth if you can.”

  With that he ran from the control tower, hopping down two steps at a time. He reached the deck railing and hurled himself overboard. As the wind caught him, he shot back in the Sunbeam’s jet stream, inflated his life-balloon, and bobbed along in their wake, disappearing into the distance.

  “What is he doing?” Mercy asked with wide eyes.

  “Abandoning ship, I should think.” It all made sense now. This was his plan all along.

  “But … But who is going to fly the ship?”

  David looked at the wheel for an instant, hesitating. The last time he piloted an airship was the day his father died. He gulped. That was the past; this was now—and people needed him. He shoved his pain into the deepest part of his soul and answered Mercy by stepping up to the controls. He ripped off the rope and spun the wheel thirty degrees. The ship hummed as it veered to the left and carved the air. He pushed the throttle down to full speed and, despite the circumstances, felt a thrill as the vessel accelerated to two hundred grandfathoms an hour. Mercy grabbed the railing when the deck leaned. David heard some angry calls echo from the stairways when pots and pans, and perhaps a few people, rattled around. He bit his lip as the ship answered to every flick of his fingers and turn of his wrists. Not to worry—if he made a mistake, they would only die. Piloting an airship he’d never even seen before—surely the stupidest thing he had ever done.

  “It’s just like a Condor. It’s just like a Condor. It’s just like a Condor,” David muttered to himself amidst some flashing lights on the control panel.

  He looked back at the crooked Prowler. It couldn’t match the Sunbeam’s turn and instead rocketed toward the dust storm. He still couldn’t see any other Prowler within the dust storm … yet. He was sure it was there, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He maneuvered the Sunbeam, skirting the outside of the dust storm even as he superheated the balloon. They needed to leave the prowling ground. Wind buffeted the side of the airship, and sand rattled and hissed as it swept across the deck. But then a second Prowler emerged from the dust storm, fine particulates billowing around it like a cloud of vapor, blocking the Sunbeam’s ascent. This one had none of the imbalance like the other; rather its prow divided into two points, a gun emplacement on each. David slammed a lever down and vented the balloon moments before the Sunbeam slammed into the bottom of the second Prowler. Mercy shrieked as the control tower missed the bottom of the Prowler by mere fathoms. As David tried to maneuver around the new Prowler, the first one pulled up along the right side of the Sunbeam. They were trying to force them into the dust storm. David didn’t know much about dust storms, but Captain Arold’s warning about breathing through a cloth gnawed at him, and the particulates couldn’t be good for the Sunbeam’s fine-tuned turbofans. Besides, if Outlanders wanted him to go into the storm, it was definitely a bad idea.

  He looked at the first Prowler beside him as it nudged closer and closer. They were so close that he could see the crew. Every man wore a mask and a pair of tinted goggles. So that’s how they managed the dust. He spun a knob and his gyroscopic turbofans rotated into full reverse. The Sunbeam bucked with the change in momentum, but the Prowlers were waiting for just such a move. Each ship reversed engines and slowed to match the Sunbeam, but the first Prowler wasn’t quite fast enough. David spun the wheel and the Sunbeam cut behind it. He saw the captain waving his arms and screaming at his men. David marked that ship as the weaker of the two. A captain with a hot temper always presented less of a threat.

  However, the second Prowler was not so easily evaded. That captain amazed David as he loosed an old fashion sail, which spun his ship 180 degrees. This man knew his ship. Instead of using conventional measures to t
urn, which on his ship were lacking, he used wind and sail. That was the thing about Outlanders and their eccentric ships: no one could ever depend on specific restrictions, as every ship and captain proved unique. The captain wasted no time after his maneuver, racing forward and again blocking the Sunbeam from ascending, forcing the golden ship toward the ground. David worked the wheel back and forth, but it had been a long time since he’d flown an airship, and this particular Outlander captain proved superb. He matched David’s every move, releasing sails and drawing them in, his expert crew outflying a wonder of machinery using a method two hundred cycles old.

  The funny thing was, even still, neither Prowler had fired a shot. While they were obviously tasked with eliminating Blythe, maybe they wanted to capture him and hold him for ransom. Or they meant to take the Sunbeam as a prize and would only fire on the ship when they thought they might lose her. David wished he knew their munitions load-out, but he couldn’t spare a moment to look. Maybe Mercy could. She still stood at the top of the control tower stairs, clutching the railing and wincing at every turn.

  “Mercy, I need you to find another spyglass and tell me what type of guns are on the Prowlers.”

  “What? But I don’t know airship guns.”

  “If you describe them, I should know what they are,” David said as she rifled through some cabinets.

  He tried to keep the Sunbeam as level as possible for the next few moments while Mercy moved about. Then he had a thought: he’d never sounded the maneuvers alarm. He slapped a hand down on a red button and a klaxon rang across the ship. Better late than never.

  Mercy cried out in triumph as she held a spyglass to her eye. “Okay … I can’t see all the guns on the ship above us, but the ones on the lower decks are either long and narrow with multiple barrels, or short and stubby with canisters of fluid attached.”