Read Online Clockwork Chaos by C.J. Henderson, Bernie Mozjes, James Daniel Ross, James Chambers, N.R. Brown, Angel Leigh McCoy, Patrick Thomas, Jeff Young - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: C.J. Henderson, Bernie Mozjes, James Daniel Ross, James Chambers, N.R. Brown, Angel Leigh McCoy, Patrick Thomas, Jeff Young
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not look like the others. You do not act like them, either. You are Yong-Shi, not Gremlic.”
“Don’t say ‘Yong-Shi.’ It’s an insult. My skin may be different, but I am just as Gremlic as they are, as our child will be. My people are essential to the empire. In time, your people will be essential, too.”
Zelena spit, and she ground the spit into the dirt with her chained foot. “My child may lower his knee to the Tsar, but in his heart, he will bow to no tyrant.”
“You sound like my grandmother,” I said.
“Thirty seconds,” the bombardier called from his position behind the captain.
Yuri, the supply officer looked up from his spot between the two waist gunners. We locked eyes. Thirty seconds? That might as well be thirty minutes.
We’d started off as a flight of fifty, and Wine into Blood had been 12 th in the line of command. Through the choking black smoke and rain of flak, I could only see ten, no, nine remaining dirigibles, with us at the lead. Behind us, the sky filled with parachutes, though not nearly as many as there should be. I pounded my toolbox with my fist.
Our target was the opulent, square palace in the middle of the city, home to the Vinegar Whore, who no doubt was evacuated the moment we began our push. The marble palace looked so small from the shore, where we’d laid siege to the island city for over a month while we waited for the supply train to finally return with fresh troops, ammunition, and food that wasn’t fish. We’d waited too long, and they’d dug themselves in nice and tight.
More explosions rocked the ship, and we swung back and forth. One of the twenty suspension cables snapped loudly, whistling through the air. The red-hot metal of the boiler became unbearable to stand beside. I watched the rivets nervously.
Below, trails of rockets slammed into the walls of the city, but the bricks didn’t crumble. Rows and rows of metal waterships chugged across the bay toward the island, pregnant with transit guards ready to climb the walls and face the defenders.
Fires swept across the city, caused by the crashed dirigibles and prematurely dropped bombs.
We should’ve bombed the walls. We’d already be on our way back if we had. But the generals didn’t ask me for advice. Regardless, the city would fall, if not today, then tomorrow. If the Tsar and his imperial army was anything, it was tenacious. One after another, the whore’s cities had fallen, her fabled vineyards and olive groves trampled into dust. All that was left were two prizes: The Vinegar Whore’s heavily-fortified capital of New Athina, and the Whore herself, a prize the Tsar sought with an unnatural fervor. He demanded her presence before him, thousands of kilometers away in Tupolov, dead or alive.
“Incoming,” the starboard waist gunner cried, firing. I ducked, and Wine into Blood trembled as rounds slammed into the gondola. A small, bird-shaped glider looped in the air, and it broke apart as the gunner tore it to shreds.
“Gods, that was too close,” Yuri said as he handed the gunner a new belt for his autogun. He slipped down the hatch.
“Lining up now,” the bombardier called. Below, the clockworks shifted as the pilot transferred control over to him. “Ten seconds!”
Pop, pop, pop . The boiler trembled with potential energy. At any moment, the heart would break. It would either eject a rivet, the steam melting anyone unfortunate enough to be in its path, or the door would rip off the hinges, tearing me in half as it shot out like a missile. Or the whole thing would just explode like a grenade, taking out the entire crew of Wine into Blood . No matter what way it went, the engineer was always went with it.
“Bombs armed!” Yuri called.
“Opening the bomb bay!” the bombardier yelled.
The ship shuddered as the dual wing doors opened underneath. We were at our most vulnerable right now. A single round from a glider could set off a bomb, blowing us out of the sky.
“Bombs
“Don’t say ‘Yong-Shi.’ It’s an insult. My skin may be different, but I am just as Gremlic as they are, as our child will be. My people are essential to the empire. In time, your people will be essential, too.”
Zelena spit, and she ground the spit into the dirt with her chained foot. “My child may lower his knee to the Tsar, but in his heart, he will bow to no tyrant.”
“You sound like my grandmother,” I said.
“Thirty seconds,” the bombardier called from his position behind the captain.
Yuri, the supply officer looked up from his spot between the two waist gunners. We locked eyes. Thirty seconds? That might as well be thirty minutes.
We’d started off as a flight of fifty, and Wine into Blood had been 12 th in the line of command. Through the choking black smoke and rain of flak, I could only see ten, no, nine remaining dirigibles, with us at the lead. Behind us, the sky filled with parachutes, though not nearly as many as there should be. I pounded my toolbox with my fist.
Our target was the opulent, square palace in the middle of the city, home to the Vinegar Whore, who no doubt was evacuated the moment we began our push. The marble palace looked so small from the shore, where we’d laid siege to the island city for over a month while we waited for the supply train to finally return with fresh troops, ammunition, and food that wasn’t fish. We’d waited too long, and they’d dug themselves in nice and tight.
More explosions rocked the ship, and we swung back and forth. One of the twenty suspension cables snapped loudly, whistling through the air. The red-hot metal of the boiler became unbearable to stand beside. I watched the rivets nervously.
Below, trails of rockets slammed into the walls of the city, but the bricks didn’t crumble. Rows and rows of metal waterships chugged across the bay toward the island, pregnant with transit guards ready to climb the walls and face the defenders.
Fires swept across the city, caused by the crashed dirigibles and prematurely dropped bombs.
We should’ve bombed the walls. We’d already be on our way back if we had. But the generals didn’t ask me for advice. Regardless, the city would fall, if not today, then tomorrow. If the Tsar and his imperial army was anything, it was tenacious. One after another, the whore’s cities had fallen, her fabled vineyards and olive groves trampled into dust. All that was left were two prizes: The Vinegar Whore’s heavily-fortified capital of New Athina, and the Whore herself, a prize the Tsar sought with an unnatural fervor. He demanded her presence before him, thousands of kilometers away in Tupolov, dead or alive.
“Incoming,” the starboard waist gunner cried, firing. I ducked, and Wine into Blood trembled as rounds slammed into the gondola. A small, bird-shaped glider looped in the air, and it broke apart as the gunner tore it to shreds.
“Gods, that was too close,” Yuri said as he handed the gunner a new belt for his autogun. He slipped down the hatch.
“Lining up now,” the bombardier called. Below, the clockworks shifted as the pilot transferred control over to him. “Ten seconds!”
Pop, pop, pop . The boiler trembled with potential energy. At any moment, the heart would break. It would either eject a rivet, the steam melting anyone unfortunate enough to be in its path, or the door would rip off the hinges, tearing me in half as it shot out like a missile. Or the whole thing would just explode like a grenade, taking out the entire crew of Wine into Blood . No matter what way it went, the engineer was always went with it.
“Bombs armed!” Yuri called.
“Opening the bomb bay!” the bombardier yelled.
The ship shuddered as the dual wing doors opened underneath. We were at our most vulnerable right now. A single round from a glider could set off a bomb, blowing us out of the sky.
“Bombs
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