Sail finally got up off the floor, the emotional mixture of sadness and anger propelling her movement. Her whole body was pounding, but especially her head. Nothing felt real. A flood of tears rolled down her face, accompanied by the same heartbroken screaming that had overtaken Cog earlier in the exact same room.
Two questions kept recurring over and over in her head: Why him? How did I survive? The bullet went straight through him, yet never touched her. Why?
A glimpse of his wrist answered her question.
His watch, a Tag brand novelty with a sleek gunmetal finish, still ticked for every second that passed, even though the bullet was caught in the glass window. She shakily removed his watch, trembling with every movement, and turned it in her hand. In the small unbroken segment of glass, her reflection stared back at her.
Next, her anger kicked in. She felt passionate fury and regret bubble up inside of her, and she balled the watch up in her fist. This was his watch, and he was hers. Somebody was going to pay for what happened to him, and she knew exactly who it was going to be. It was against her nature to go without revenge.
She walked over to one of her rescuers and asked if they were ready to unleash a quick and painful attack on their enemies. Without waiting for an answer, she spun the steering wheel hard to the right. The Globetrotter tugged and pulled against the massive weight of the Mumba, threatening to break all the wires that attached the two ships together. Everything they had been working on in Airship Operation to avoid jerking or overheating the airship went straight out the window.
One of the wires snapped as a German squad was marching over it, sending them plummeting to the shadowy ground beneath. Cog watched as the Globetrotter pulled harder and harder away, snapping the wires that would be their only way back.
"Sail!" she yelled, knowing she'd never be heard.
"It is a fruitless task, mademoiselle," the French one said. "We will have to get back ourselves."
"Well, I believe we have a bit of an issue with that right now," the British one pointed out, referring to the two ships now resting inside of the Mumba.
The last wire cracked against the side of the Globetrotter, and the ship violently recoiled from the exerted force. Sail rushed over to the PA again. "We are now fully detached from the A.S. Mumba. No more Nazis will be boarding. The next plan of action is to activate our shields and get out of here. I'm still turning on the cannons, though, because I have a newfound hatred for Nazis. If they fire at us, return fire." Her last sentence came out more angrily than the rest.
She rotated the ship to get a good view of the Mumba. The sheer size of it caught her off-guard. They were very close to it, but either side of the ship was out of her peripherals. She wiped the last tear out of her eye and was just about to turn away when she saw Cog and two other people disappearing into the enemy airship.
"Oh my God," she shouted. "Cog!"
"What now?" Cog wondered, cautiously checking both directions. They had made a way into the airship, but its foreign hallways only provided more dangers. Instead of the decorative wood walls and paintings on the Globetrotter, they were met with steel plates bolted together, and Nazi propaganda posters.
"We have to seem like we belong here," the British one figured, loading a pistol. "You have a knife. Hopefully, you can be a quick and silent killer. Sneak up on a Nazi and disguise yourself with their clothing. Meet back here, and we'll have a map and the location of a possible secondary airship we can escape with."
She looked at them, feeling the knife in her pocket. "I can hardly kill people," she admitted, "let alone sneak up on them to do it. Plus, we haven't seen a single female soldier this entire time."
"It's our only shot. You're the closest match." He waved his hand in the air, referencing her hair and eyes. He was right, she supposed.
A pair of footsteps approached them from one of the adjacent corridors.
"Quick! Hide!" Cog ushered them over to a nearby door. She couldn't read its message, but hopefully it didn't lead to more Nazis. The door closed just as the two soldiers rounded the curve.
"We've got to get Cog," Sprocket worried, pacing the pilot's cabin in deep concentration. Torque was busy resting Gogs beside Amp on the wall, and Sail was busy crying into Bolt's shoulder, who glumly skimmed the room.
"There's no way to rescue her without risking death ourselves," he reasoned, consoling Sail with pats on the back. "As much as I'd love to, we can't do it."
"We've gotta save her," Sail said, lifting her head and revealing a massive tear-soaked area. She batted at it a little before giving up. "We can't lose her, too."
"We can't even save ourselves," Torque argued. He was gazing out the window towards the Mumba. "They have at least six times more weapons than us, and each one vastly overpowers our crummy cannons. Not to mention their shield is probably as strong as an a30, which is the latest and greatest shield type. Our military isn't even equipped with something that strong."
"Is there a chance of outrunning them?" Bolt suggested.
"It'd be hard, if not impossible, now that we're a sitting duck. We should've gotten out of here as soon as that last cable snapped."
"I wasn't leaving Cog!" Sail shot at him.
"So instead of leaving her, we're all going to die!"
"Not necessarily," Bolt countered. He walked over to the window and stared at the evil airship that loomed in the black horizon. "Think about that for a second, Torque. A massive warship risked soldiers' lives boarding us instead of shooting us out of the air. They want us alive, but if we attack them, we'll no doubt be shot out of the sky."
"The question is," Sprocket voiced, catching on, "why haven't they shot us out of the sky? What do they want?"
"Or who," Bolt pondered.
"That was close," Cog whispered, surveying the room as they entered. It was some form of a janitor's closet, with a large maintenance vent to the right.
"I think I've got a plan," she told them. "I learned this one from their own playbook."
The three climbed through the vent as quietly as possible, each thud against the thin metal jolting their nerves. It was pitch black in the catacombs, so each turn was directed by feeling the walls on either side.
"Hört sie ein Dinge?" a female voice remarked from below. The three froze, each holding their breath. It didn't take knowing German to recognize that they had been heard.
A moment passed. Cog's ears were ringing, and her heart was pounding. Finally, the other voice replied, "Nein, hörte ich nicht." The footsteps walked away, and they let out a sigh of relief.
This is so weird, Cog thought. I'm doing almost the exact same thing Lukas was, except I'm not trying to kidnap an innocent person and kill people.
As they ventured forward, a light finally came into view. They were as excited as they could safely be in a cramped maintenance vent. The French teen silently peered through the grate. There was a woman pacing outside the meshed exit, yelling into a radio. She was in what appeared to be a break room. Cog only picked up a couple of the small words, but heard her mention the Globetrotter in the conversation somewhere.
Finally, the lady stopped pacing and put down the radio, her shining black boots stopping somewhere to the vent's left. The French teen gestured for the knife, then threw a coat button that was in his pocket as a noise distraction. When the woman went to check the noise, he detached the gate.
Here goes, Cog reasoned, averting her eyes as the kid plunged her switchblade into the Nazi's back. They emitted a blood-curdling scream, and then fell forward. Cog froze in the vent, traumatized, before realizing she had to act quickly. She undressed the enemy, and the other two slid the body into the vent and re-latched the grate.
They stood waiting, watching Cog as she held the enemy's outfit. "I'm going to need you two to turn away, you know," she said, hesitating.
"Oh, right. Duh. Sorry." They did as told, facing the break room fridge. Probably not a bad idea to eat prior to their little sneaky incursion.
Cog put the clothes on, shuddering at the blood stain sticking against her back. She left the Nazi hat off and kept her own hat and goggles on. "Alright, you're good now."
The two turned back around, opening up a pack of cheese shreds. "If anyone can look good as a Nazi, it is you, mademoiselle," the French one commented.
"Oh, shut up."
Sail held the ship in idle as she sat in panicked boredom. Her brain was fried. All her tears had long dried up, but they threatened to come back at any moment. "Maybe we'll get lucky, and an American airship will show up and save us," she suggested.
"Just like your seven other hair brained scenarios," Torque sneered, "it ain't gonna happen." He was getting irritated.
"Watch your lip before it's bruised, buddy," Bolt warned. "I'm getting really tired of your mouth."
"That's unfortunate, because I'm getting tired of 'maybe an asteroid will hit them,' or, 'maybe someone will burst into the room and say it's all a big prank!'"
"It's all a big prank!" one of the student guards shouted, bursting in. A painful silence fell over the room as the four stared at him. "Yep, understood. Not the time."
"But she just witnessed Gogs get shot," Bolt said, getting up from the copilot seat, "and Cog might wind up dead! Of course she's trying to put some hope into the situation, Torque!"
"Now hold on, man, we're flying on the same ship here. I just lost those two as well. But I ain't bawling my eyes out and trying to convince myself of something that will never happen!"
"There are two differences, though," Sprocket butted in. "You're not as emotional, and you never liked Gogs. In fact, you were jealous of him. He was the nerd you could've been, if you would've had the heart to stand up to those kids from day one. I've seen and heard it, Torque. Not even after death could you feel anything for him."
"Shut up!" he yelled. "Shut up! I was never jealous of Gogs." He paused and hung his head low. "I was jealous of both of you. You have everything I don't. Including bragging rights for pretty much saving the day today."
For the first time since Sprocket had known him, Torque seemed hurt and defeated. He let himself be vulnerable to the others. Maybe it was his powerful moment of realization. Maybe not. Either way, he sucked in a deep breath and faced them again. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a Nazi to go beat up. Where's that Lukas snob?"
"In the torture chamber," Sprocket sighed, the edge in his own voice gone. "Have fun with that one."
"Oh, I will." He jogged out of the cabin and down towards the restricted area. Today was probably the most excitement the area had seen in years.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
To be fair, Sprocket reasoned, this is easily the most excitement this ship has seen, period.
Static popped from the cockpit's radio for a couple of seconds.
"Ein-und-zwanzig! Wie gehts, ein-und-zwanzig?!"
"They're asking for someone named 21," Sail said, staring down at the speaker with wide eyes.
Bolt walked over to it and picked up his end. "Alles gut hier. Was ist deine Nummer, Herr?" He turned to Sprocket, who appeared confused. "I asked for their number, too."
"Drei," the voice responded.
"I've got an idea," Sail announced, pulling Bolt's ratchet wrench out from her back pocket.
Cog and the other two stowaways walked side-by-side, all disguised as the enemy. Having Cog undercover meant that the other two had easier access to two more guards to take down. Neither of them had blonde hair, so they did their best to hide it under their new hats. Their eyes were the only things giving them away.
"Now what?" Cog inquired, as the three attempted to march in a row. There weren't exactly classes you could take teaching you how to march or be a Nazi.
The speakers on the ship turned on, as if to answer her question.
"Cog!" Sprocket's voice called out, "if you can hear me, go take out their shield! There will be a disc-like object. Take it!"
"I don't know where that—"
"We'll get you out of there, Cog!" Sail yelled in the PA, and an audible click signaled that the line was cut. The three exchanged glances, unsure of what to make of it.
"Where's the shield system, then?" The British one wondered.
"In Airship Anatomy, we learned that the shield array's usually near the generators. Let's check there."
-=[ ]=-
They were awestruck by the room in front of them. A few guards watched over different types of machinery. Pipes entangled the room in a massive metal web. Steam released itself from the pipes and trailed into a massive ceiling vent system. Every machine either clicked, ticked, or whirred. Cog took a quick survey of her surroundings, trying to remember what a shield system would look like from Airship Anatomy.
"Was machst sie hier?" One of the guards investigated, stepping forward.
The French teen responded, saying, "Wir macht Reparatur und Überprüfung fur das Schild." He waved his wrench around to emphasize whatever he had said.
"Ja, gut." The guard went back to his post, leaving the three of them on their own.
"Took German in the third grade," he whispered, "and socials was a breeze." When neither of the other two stopped staring, he said, "I said we're doing checkup and reparations. We best get moving, no?"
"Boy, do I feel useless today," the British teen sighed, as they searched for the shield apparatus. They tried to make it seem like they knew what they were doing, but were failing miserably.
"Das Schild ist nach rechts!" the guard yelled out towards them. Cog and the British kid froze, not sure what they'd said.
"Danke!" The French one called out, leading the other two to the right. They walked over to the machine, but were met with a terminal that required a password input.
"That's just dandy," the British kid complained, kicking the machine. The two boys started trying to list a few possible passcodes, but realized it was pointless. It could be letters and numbers, and almost any length imaginable.
"There's no use," the French one realized. "We might as well just give up and go with our original plan. We can ask the guard where the scout airships are and pretend like we're doing a routine checkup there."
"Hold on, I have an idea," Cog declared. She walked up to the keyboard in front of the terminal and pressed a few buttons. The machine opened up, revealing a metallic cylinder that was spinning very quickly.
"How did you..." The British one trailed off.
"I put in 'N4Z1.' It's like 'Nazi' but with numbers."
"How did you know that would be it?" the French one asked.
"I didn't." With the press of an additional button, the disc stopped its dangerously fast spinning. She pulled it out and put it in her back pocket, then closed the machine back up.
"Alles gut hier!" she blurted to the guard, who nodded.
They proceeded out of the room as inconspicuously as possible, but the guard called out for them again. "Eigentlich," they said, stopping the three in their path, "die selbsttätig Kanonen brauchen Reparation auch." He pointed to another large machine with cables, levers, and buttons connecting every which way. The three nodded and walked over to it.
"Automated cannons," the French kid translated, with a gulp.
"Is there a way we can sabotage these, too?"
"We can see..."
After a good fifteen minutes of tweaking, they finally felt satisfied with the work they'd performed. They saluted the guard goodbye, then quickly got out of there.
"Now let's get out of this place," Cog said, as they briskly marched through the airship. "Is there a map for this place?"
"Most likely," the British one reckoned, staring at a poster on the wall that was printed in German. "What does this say, Grease?"
"Wollte: der Schwarze Horizont," the French one read, "sixty thousand Deutschmarks. There's someone going around called the Black Horizon who has a pretty hefty bounty on their head."
It displayed a man wearing all black, including a black scarf and a black cowboy hat. Whoever they were, apparently the Nazis didn't like them. "Never heard of them."
"They're probably keeping it that way for a reason."
"Wait, I never got your names," Cog said, realizing the British teen called the other "Grease."
"Of course. I am Grease, and this is Monkey," the French teen explained.
"Are you kidding me?" Cog replied, disappointed.
"We do not need your approval on our nickname choice, mademoiselle."
They came to a four-way intersection and stopped. A Nazi appeared in each of the other passages and blocked their paths.
"Identifikation, bitte," one said, hand outstretched.
Busted, Cog realized. She wasn't sure if there was actually an ID in her pockets, but a quick search revealed a rectangular plastic card. She pulled it out and handed it over to the soldier with as calm of a face as she could muster. The other two pulled their own stolen cards out, nowhere near as calm.
The Nazi took one glance at the IDs and nodded towards the other two Nazis. He pocketed the cards.
"Run," Cog mumbled. She spun on her heels and made a break for it, her stolen boots connecting loudly with the floor. The other two followed suit, trailing just behind her. They snaked down hallways, but had no clue where to go. The three Nazis were slowly catching up to them with each corridor they ran down.
"If we split up," Monkey yelled, "it'll confuse them."
"We can't just split up," Cog responded between breaths. "What if one of us gets caught, or we never find each other again?"
"It's a risk we'll have to take." He branched off to the right, leaving her and Grease to run side-by-side down a different stretch of the ship. When they reached another intersection, Grease tipped his hat and broke off to the left.
She let herself glance back. The plan had worked, but the one still following her was getting closer very quickly. Her adrenaline went into overdrive and she sped up, swerving around curves and pushing past confused fascist bystanders.
A minute later, she peeked back again. She was far enough ahead that she could try hiding. On the next corner turn, she took brief glances at the different rooms in her new hallway, including one labeled "Verhör." She didn't know what that meant, but she bolted inside and quietly closed the door. A few moments later, footsteps ran past her hiding spot.
Thank goodness, she thought.
The footsteps came back, slower this time, and stopped in front of the door.
Gosh dang it.
The Nazi that had been chasing her now peered through the window. He smiled.
-=[ ]=-
It turned out that she had run right into the room they were all going to be brought to, anyway. The other two were dragged in by their respective hunter. A fourth soldier sat across the table, glaring between the three.
Interrogation.
Again.
"So," the soldier started, his German accent thick, "three American dummkopfs decided to go from their ship to ours. Who are you, blondie?" He spat the word out, his face mirroring his attitude.
She scanned their new accommodation, as if the answer would jump out at her and save their lives. The three Nazis that had dragged them in were standing inside by the door, with large SMGs held to their chest. The other two shifted in their seats, worried, but were also visibly upset by being labeled as Americans.
I'm stuck being interrogated by Nazis for the second time today, Cog reflected, and I don't see any way of getting out of this one. Time for some risky stuff.
"I am the Black Horizon," she answered, hoping that would trigger something for him.
He laughed in response. "Girl, there are three reasons I know that's a lie. One, the Black Horizon is Russian. Two, they're two meters tall, and you are much shorter than that. Three, the Black Horizon is a guy."
"Nyet," a muffled voice responded from behind the door, making the room run cold. The three kids slowly and simultaneously turned to face the door, and the guards readied their weapons.
The door came crashing down on their faces and was replaced by a person, leg outstretched in a kicking position.
"The Black Horizon is a girl," the person countered, with a very obvious Russian accent. They were wearing a Nazi engineer outfit, which Cog assumed meant they were undercover as well. Using a suppressed pistol, they shot the interrogator.
"Come with me, you three," the Black Horizon commanded, dashing away. They hesitated to get up, confusion sinking in. Were they just rescued by an undercover Russian spy?
Torque came rushing back in, worried.
"He's not in there," he said, out of breath. "He's not in the torture chamber!"
"What?" Bolt yelled, springing up. "There's no way he could've gotten out by himself!"
"Did the Nazis get him out?" Sail suggested, pupils shrinking as her anxiety grew.
Sprocket and Bolt darted down the halls to the torture chamber. All four straps had been cut, including the makeshift duct-tape strap.
The Black Horizon had led them to an airship dock that was used for smaller airships landing inside the Mumba.
"Do any of you three know how to fly?" she asked, trying to keep her voice above the alarms that had been going off since their escape from the interrogation room. She hopped into one of the smaller airships, which usually holds up to six people. Both Grease and Monkey raised their hands, but the French teen got the wheel first.
"I hope this thing moves quickly," Cog chimed, sitting across from the Black Horizon, who was adjusting a black scarf to cover her mouth. Grease powered it on and pulled out of the ship bay almost immediately, jerking them forward.
"Let us go then, shall we?"
"Schießen sie!" the German captain demanded, pointing at the personal airship that now rushed towards the Globetrotter. The munitions leader spoke into his radio, signaling permission to open fire.
A cannon-missile nearly hit their airship as they zoomed over to the Globetrotter. They had just enough time to swerve away, sending the missile spiraling down to the ground far below. Cog grew pale. She was tired of being shot at.
"Almost there!" Grease yelled, as a second cannon-missile flew by. They aimed for the top deck of the Globetrotter, where the helicopter that brought Cog had once landed.
"Sail, there's an enemy airship trying to land on our own!" one kid shouted, pointing out the window. "We need to shoot it down!"
"No!" Sail responded immediately. "It might be Cog. Why would they shoot at one of their own?"
She obviously had a point. They watched as the ship landed on the deck, and four people in Nazi uniforms hopped out. The kid peered at her skeptically.
"Well, at least none of them have guns," she said, her heart sinking.
"Sail!" Cog yelled, standing in the doorway.
"Cog!" They embraced in a hug, staying close together for a long while. When they let go, both were crying.
"Where are the others?" Cog asked, wiping away a tear.
"Well, Bolt and Sprocket went to go find Lukas, but Gogs..." She trailed off as she laid eyes on him, his back leaned against the wall.
Grease, Monkey, and the Black Horizon walked in as Cog and Sail started mourning again.
"He saved me," Sail lamented, holding up the watch with the bullet in it. Cog grabbed Gogs' goggles and put them on Sail.
"Try these on," she said, "he'd want you to."
Sail put them over her eyes and was immediately overwhelmed by what she saw. The right lens changed to a green hue—the same as her actual right eye—and displayed a crosshair with Cardinal directions, wind markings, and a distance measurer. The goggles' left lens, which had also changed colors, provided some form of an infrared scanner.
"Woah," she exclaimed, her crying slowing a little. Behind them, Sprocket and Bolt re-entered.
"Cog!" Sprocket yelled, as both went for an embrace. After another long moment, they let go of each other.
"Who are you?" Sprocket asked the spy standing in the corner.
"I am the Black Horizon. You have not seen me, do not know me, and never will."
"Cryptic, but okay."
"As much as I hate to break this heartwarming moment," the teen guarding the room interrupted, "it looks like the enemy is gearing up to fire at us. Should we fire back?"
Sail, Cog, Sprocket, and Bolt all glanced at each other, and simultaneously answered, "Yes."
"Guess it's unanimous then. Fire the cannons!"
"Wait," Sail said. "Shoot their thrusters and aim for the engine. Do we have machine guns?"
"Yes, we'll use those on the balloon and any incoming enemies."
"Expect return fire!" Sprocket yelled.
"But not for long," Cog added, smiling. She received questioning glances from almost everyone else, but instead of answering, she held up the disk Sprocket told her to get. "How did you contact us like that?" she asked.
Sail, engulfed in controlling the ship, responded, "It was simple, actually. They tried talking to us, and then I realized we can talk back, and it took a bit of—" A loud crack signaled the firing of the first round of cannons, two of six hitting the enemy's hull, and one almost hitting a thruster. "It took a bit of rewiring, but we eventually figured it out."
A second round fired, breaking one of the Mumba's thrusters off. The rest missed entirely.
"They're not firing back anymore," Sprocket pointed out, trying to figure out what that could mean.
"There's a reason for that," Cog hinted, high-fiving the British and French kids. "We sabotaged their cannons."
"How?" Even the Black Horizon gave them a questioning stare.
"We put a gear in there that would rip the wires apart if spun." A third volley fired at the enemy ship, and the machine guns released volleys on the balloon. Another thruster had been decommissioned, and more hull damage was dealt. The Globetrotter hadn't even suffered a scratch yet.
"Change in plans," Sail announced, an evil grin on her face. "We'll make it so they can't escape, and then we hit them until they're down!"
"Actually, Sail," Bolt started, "I don't think we should—"
Not waiting to hear his input, Sail angled the ship to face the enemy thrusters more directly. The machine guns readjusted, and the cannons fired. Only three more of their thrusters remained.
"They're pulling out machine guns!" Sprocket pointed out. Four Nazi guns opened fire on their balloon, puncturing it in a million different places.
"Balloon hit! We need to get out of here!" One of the machine gun kids yelled, right before the enemies opened fire again.
"As I was saying," Bolt said, "let's not." One last volley hit the Mumba, knocking out a third thruster and leaving a massive hole in its side. Debris and figures fell out of the massive enemy ship. Sail steered the Globetrotter away from the idle Mumba, smiling at the burning mess behind them. She would get her revenge soon enough.