Rora looked at Gwen. “What now?”
Gwen thought frantically.
The forcefield was made of energy, plasma, or particles and was likely tied to a doctored-up reverse gravitational machine of sorts. No smaller generator would be able to support a forcefield of this size. A narrow slip of energy from the very top of the forcefield trickled down to the palace at the center of the city. That had to be where the machine was. If she could disable it, even temporarily, they should be able to slip into space and, ideally, before the shield came back up.
“The plan remains the same.” Gwen grabbed her pack, which contained the portable mainframe and a small tool kit. She removed the mainframe and passed it to Rora. “Put this somewhere safe. Have Bastian get this ship in the sky. Hover as high as you can, but don’t get near that forcefield until I get it down.”
Once, she’d been willing to leave these people, to abandon the circus and those she’d come to know. She’d thought she had nothing left to fight for. But these cyborgs had become her new family and in some ways had replaced the family she could no longer remember. And she’d proven to herself that she was capable. If she could solve Rora and Marzanna’s sleeping curse, she could sure as hell figure out how to bring down a forcefield.
Glancing to Bastian, whose eyes shone with a strange vacancy, she wished more than anything she could say goodbye. But there wasn’t time to wait for Marzanna to remove Emmeline’s chip and replace it with his. The longer they waited, the more time they gave the feds and emperor’s soldiers a chance to catch up with them. There was also no way of knowing how long it would take for her Bastian to return. Lingering, she studied his features, wondering if it would be the final time. His olive skin was pale, and dried blood was crusted on his face.
The once irritable ringleader, who’d clung to power for a sense of purpose, was not the beast he’d pretended to be. He cared deeply for the performers and for her.
It’s my turn to save you.
Swallowing back the tightness in her throat, Gwen turned from him as she reloaded her pistol. Marzanna and Rora studied her with knowing eyes.
You plan to sacrifice yourself, their expressions seemed to say.
Emmeline eyed Gwen with a stiff set to her jaw.
“I’m the only one who has a chance of getting that forcefield down. Not too long ago, I was no cyborg tinkerer. I figured that out. Now, it’s time to tinker with a generator. I’ll get back as soon as I can.” Gwen limped onto her board and kicked her skimmer’s engine on. “As soon as the forcefield goes down, set a course straight for space. Don’t wait for me.”
Without another word, she set off into the sky, heading straight for the narrow slip of energy connecting the forcefield to the center of the city. She prayed she wouldn’t capitally fuck this up.
But she wasn’t the same tinkerer who’d signed a circus contract for a chance at life. She’d learned more about coding, engineering, and tinkering. In so doing, she’d learned to be more confident in herself. She hoped she’d hold on to that confidence when she came face-to-face with a forcefield technology she didn’t understand.
The dragon, still holding visiting hours with the city guard, didn’t notice her flying over houses and buildings a short distance away. She soared over the palace’s gates. A strange buzzing filled her ears as she neared the slip of energy. The closer she flew, the louder it became.
To her surprise, the energy didn’t come from an outdoor courtyard, as she’d expected. Instead, it came from what she’d once thought was an enclosed room within the castle itself. Now that she was in the sky, she could see a massive opening in the roof.
A shimmering white-blue energy crackled and sparked.
Flying down, she groaned before removing her pistol and a knife. Half a dozen guards in steel armor surrounded a massive generator. She fired her pistol, shooting a man in the head. At the same time, a knife flew from her other hand. It connected with a second guard’s neck. Both fell to the ground.
The remaining soldiers spun toward her.
Turning her board, she grabbed two more knives from the sheaths on her good leg, moving to cut down the next guard. She struck out, managing to knock his helmet free. A hand latched on to the back of her skimmer, and she tumbled to the ground. Rolling, she sliced upward with her knives, catching a soldier in the armpit.
The final three soldiers surrounded her.
She moved on instinct, courtesy of years of experience out in open space. Even with the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she was far too slow. Dangerously slow with her leg dragging.
When the first soldier charged with his sword, she slipped within his defenses and ran her knife over his exposed throat.
Pain tore through her senses, and tears welled in her eyes from the movement.
Over the roar of the forcefield, she heard the telltale click of a gun being loaded. Unable to move fast enough, a zing of pain shot through her as a bullet punctured her shoulder. Dropping her knives, she grabbed the soldier she’d just killed. She yanked with all of her might, using his body as a shield and narrowly deflecting a second bullet.
Something clattered to the floor, and she moved on instinct, dropping the body.
Two others dived for her at once. She rolled backward, cringing as pain rocketed through her shoulder and leg. Fingers scrabbling, she found a discarded gun, praying it was loaded. Aiming, she fired. One of the soldiers fell. But the last guard was on her, body crushing her into the ground.
Hands wrapped around her throat, and she gasped for air.
Somehow, the gun had slipped free from her grasp. Desperate, she felt along the ground for a knife, a weapon, anything. As blackness filled her vision, she knew she had mere moments before she lost consciousness.
Her fingers touched a cool metal surface, and she grabbed it, slamming it into the soldier’s helmet. The two helmets slammed together, metal clanging. With a grunt, he fell off her, and his helmet clattered to the floor. Seeing her knife a few feet away, she lunged for it before the man was on her again. She sliced upward, and he reeled back, clutching his eye. Blood flowed from the wound, blinding him in one eye. Swinging, she thumped him in the temple with the hilt of her knife. His body went limp before he collapsed onto the marble floor.
Rising to her feet, she limped to the massive machine at the center of the room. She pulled her pack off her shoulders, grimacing at the pain. But she removed her tool kit and lay it out on the ground.
As she’d guessed, the machine was set up similarly to a ship’s artificial gravity generator. There was the very obvious off switch—a red handle at the corner—but it would only be a matter of time before more soldiers arrived and turned the machine back on. She couldn’t risk alerting the palace to her presence yet. The noise of the forcefield may have covered up the gunshots, but a lowering forcefield would certainly raise suspicions.
She moved around the machine, skidding on the fallen soldiers’ blood.
Removing the metal plating from behind the forcefield’s off switch, she saw massive wheels and gears, along with complex wiring, ducts, and rotor system spinning on a circular track.
As she watched the machine work for a moment, an idea formed.
She thought of how she’d swapped Marzanna’s wiring to fix her foot, and how it had short-circuited, sending her into a coma for weeks.
Could it really be that easy?
Donning rubber gloves from her pack and reaching into the machine, she replaced several of the wires, moving them to different outlets. Some of the wires sparked as she worked. The machine made a strange coughing noise, the gears clinking as the generator worked harder to maintain the forcefield.
Still, the forcefield remained functional.
Damn it. She knew plenty about ships, but—like cyborgs—forcefields were outside of her area of expertise.
Before she could brainstorm further, she heard a roar over the hum of the forcefield’s plasma energy. When she looked up, her heart dropped. The dragon hovered above the opening in the ceiling.
Not now.
It slipped around the forcefield’s energy, flying into the domed room. She rolled, narrowly missing a plume of white-orange flames. Behind her, her tool kit melted into useless liquid metal.
Looking around, it took her a moment to spot her skimmer. It lay several paces away, partially buried beneath soldiers’ bodies. The dragon turned in the room, circling back. Ignoring the piercing pain in her leg and shoulder, she staggered forward and shoved the bodies off. She grabbed the board and dodged behind a nearby column as another spout of fire filled the room where she’d just stood.
Mounting her board and kicking the engine on, she left the safety of the column to face the dragon, her feet sliding on the blood oozing from her shoulder. Flame erupted from the beast, and she flew around the room, dodging between pillars.
The generator towered before her, a beacon. That was the answer.
Her heart pounded as she waited in front of the machine, the dragon flapping massive wings and turning to face her. In those agonizing moments, she wondered if she would see Bastian, Rora, or her friends again. The roaring of the forcefield became a distant humming in her ears over the roaring of her pulse.
Wait… Wait…
The dragon faced her and arched its back, breathing in deeply. Then it loosed flames.
Now!
She kicked the skimmer, willing the board to move faster than it ever had before. But she wasn’t nearly fast enough. As she flew upward, the flames chased her, dancing up her board. As her leather jacket caught fire, she could feel the skin on her arms instantly bubble with blisters. But she couldn’t risk taking the jacket off or even letting go of her board. Biting her cheek, she held back a scream, clutching her board with all her remaining strength. Below her, the fire melted the generator, and the machine sputtered.
As she zipped out of the room and into the open sky, the forcefield shimmered before descending back toward the ground.
The entire peninsula shook as the shield collapsed. An explosion like a wave of air boomed across the city.
In the room below, the dragon roared, the sound like metal scraping metal, as a part of the castle exploded. Fire and electricity and a searing heat blasted up from the generator. It was all she could do to keep out of the range of the sparking flames. Debris flew in every direction, peppering her with shards of stone, glass, and metal.
Tears filled the corners of her eyes. Damn it, she didn’t have time to be injured.
As she flew back over the city and toward the docks, she noted where cobblestone streets and house foundations had cracked from the impact of the explosion. The city fell silent for several long moments before the screaming started. Soldiers rallied, and arrows zipped up toward her board, slamming into the base. One managed to poke through, splintering the wood.
As the ships came into sight, the dragon bellowed once more. It was the sound of fury taking flight.
Looking back, she saw the unmistakable shape of the scarlet dragon rising out of the castle’s depths. Smoke fizzled up from holes in the beast’s wings, and it was covered in ash. But it flew straight for her.
That was one resilient fucker.
Squatting lower, she zipped toward the water. She breathed a sigh of relief as Obedient rose into the sky. With any luck, that meant Bastian was awake and guiding the ship toward space.
Rather than setting a course for Obedient, she flew toward the docks where soldiers yelled. As she feared, some were in the midst of preparing ships in pursuit. Seeing her and the pursuing dragon, the soldiers aimed guns and crossbows. More arrows stuck to the bottom of her board, but she didn’t turn back. Instead, she flew closer to them. Another bullet connected with her wounded shoulder, and she cried out, blinking back more tears. Somehow, she managed to stay on her board, but her vision grew fuzzy, and she became lightheaded.
I’m losing too much blood.
She clutched her board with her injured arm before she sliced off the first ship’s docking lines with her free hand. She nearly lost her footing as the pain in her leg throbbed nearly unbearably.
Soon, the dragon’s flames descended over the docks, and the soldiers turned toward it. She made quick work of the remaining docking lines.
Turning, she looked back at Obedient, which was growing smaller as it neared space.
Arrows zipped past her as she soared straight upward. Behind her, the dragon bellowed. Wings flapped furiously as it closed in.
As the ship grew larger, getting closer, Gwen struggled to remain conscious. The air grew thin and cold, and her head swam as blood streamed down her arm from the bullet wounds and countless cuts, making her board slick. Behind her, the dragon no longer belched flames, but it didn’t stop either. Too close, she heard the gnashing of teeth and a clicking as its talons appeared and retracted.
The ship was close enough now that she could see the faces of her friends, waving and calling to her. Some grabbed lines and moved frantically about the ship. Bastian stood at the helm with his eyes fixed on her. Eyes filled with fear.
Suddenly, Gwen’s skimmer sputtered. The engine coughed, and the board shook. Her feet slipped on blood, and she clutched the skimmer with both hands. She was so close. She could see Rora, Marzanna, Akio, and the others crying out.
I’m not going to make it.
She tried to capture the image of Bastian’s face in her mind—his disheveled hair, angular chin, and his brown eyes alight with life—but her vision blurred. She couldn’t even muster the energy to wave in farewell. Suddenly, the effort to keep her eyes open was too much.
The board sputtered for a final time as the engine died. Slowly, she started to descend toward the ground.
Back toward the scarlet dragon.