D. MacHale - The Pilgrims of Rayne

As if on cue, both of the long silver tubes unloaded. They were guns. I didn’t know what kind of ammunition it fired. The sound wasn’t sharp, but more like dull thuds. Wump, wump, wump, wump. They fired, point blank, at the Flighters ship. Each time one fired, it recoiled then locked back into position for another shot.

The Flighters didn’t stand a chance. The missiles tore into their ship. Or should I say, the missiles tore their ship apart. There were no explosions when they hit. It was more like small laser bombs had ripped through their vessel. Our ship was close enough to be rocked by the impact. Siry jumped for the wheel. This time I let him take over. He knew the truth now. We needed to get out of there. He gripped the large wheel and focused on guiding us out of harm’s way.

The Flighters were desperate to escape the attack and dove over the sides of their doomed ship. In seconds the hull was shredded. I had no idea if any were killed, but if there were any of them below deck, there was no way they survived. The guns kept firing with a vengeance. Thump, thump, thump. The sounds of tearing, hot metal sounded like fingernails scraping across a blackboard. The silver guns seemed like they were controlled by an unseen hand. As big as they were, they operated simply and smoothly, like a toy. In twenty seconds the Flighters’ ship was a memory. All that was left were the bubbles that rose in the water to mark its grave, and a handful of floundering Flighters.

I had no doubt they’d make it to shore and be picked up by the security force.

Its mission complete, the guns stopped firing. With a mechanical whir they returned to center position and sank down beneath the water. The whole event, from the time we first heard the whir of the guns to the disappearance of any sign that they had been there, took all of a minute. A single, violent minute.

The Jakills stood staring back at the gateway to Rayne, dumbfounded. All was quiet. The sun continued to rise on a new day. It looked as if nothing had happened.

But nothing was the same.

(CONTINUED)

The stunned looks on the faces of the Jakills told the whole story. In those few short minutes they learned about firepower and its violent result.

“It was… it was… horrible!” Twig cried out.

Loque gasped. “Did anyone know about that weapon?”

Nobody had.

“What about the Flighters’ ship?” rat boy whined. “They had a weapon too! We’re lucky we’re not on the bottom of the ocean right next to them!”

“I’m scared,” Twig said.

They fell into an excited babble. Gone were the bold hijackers who were willing to risk their lives to ram the Flighters’ ship. Crashing one ship into another made sense to them. Powerful weapons of destruction didn’t.

“Stop!” Siry ordered.

Everyone fell silent. Throughout the frantic debate, Siry’s eyes had stayed on the horizon. He gripped the ship’s large wheel, guiding it as if nothing had happened. It was a good act. I saw the truth. His hands were quivering. When he spoke, he kept his eyes forward. I’m guessing he didn’t want to make eye contact or the Jakills would realize he was just as shaken as everybody else.

D. J. MacHale

The Pilgrims of Rayne

“What did you expect?” he asked.

“Not that!” rat boy chirped quickly.

“Then wake up!” Siry shot back. “We’re out here to discover the truth about our world. Did you really think we’d like everything we found?”

Loque said calmly, “This isn’t the rest of the world, Siry. That weapon was here, where we live. Why didn’t we know about it?”

“For the same reason we don’t know about the rest of the world beyond our island,” Siry answered angrily. “The tribunal keeps us ignorant. I don’t know what that weapon was or who put it there. That’s the whole point. Why don’t we know? Why are they keeping secrets?”

The Jakills exchanged nervous looks.

Siry continued. “Nothing has changed except we’ve had our first taste of life beyond our sheltered little village.” He finally looked at the others and continued with passion. “Do we want to learn more? Or was that enough to make us turn around and run back to our lives of peaceful oblivion like frightened children?”

There were tentative looks all around, but nobody raised their hand.

Siry nodded in approval. “Good. Everybody back to their posts. We’ve got a long sail ahead.”

The group dispersed silently but not enthusiastically.

“Take the wheel,” Siry ordered Loque.

Loque nodded and took control of the ship. He seemed to be Siry’s most trusted friend.

I could see why. Loque was a good guy. Siry looked me square in the eye. He seemed shaken.

“Come with me,”he ordered, his voice cracking slightly.

The guy was barely holding it together. I knew he’d have questions. I had plenty of my own. He led me toward the bow of the ship and into the wooden cabin. Inside were coiled ropes and poles. It looked like your basic shipboard gear. Nothing unusual. We entered the cabin. Suddenly he turned and sprang at me. I was so surprised, I barely reacted. He grabbed my shirt and pushed me against the wooden wall. Hard.

“Never do that again,” he seethed. The guy was really ticked.

“Do what?” was all I could get out.

His eyes were wild with anger. Or fear. “I’m their leader. I don’t care who you are, you will not take over like that again.”

I realized he was talking about how I took control of the ship’s wheel and steered us away from the Flighters’ ship.

“Sure, Siry,” I said calmly. “Next time we’re all about to die and you freeze up, I’ll back off so you won’t look bad. No problem.”

Siry wanted to be angry. I think he wanted to hit me. Instead he shoved me away and walked to the other side of the cabin. The guy looked tortured.

I asked, “This isn’t really about me saving the ship, is it?”

Siry pulled his hand through his curly hair. The confident front he put on for the Jakills was gone. “They trust me,” he said with a shaky voice. “What have I gotten them into?”

“Want to turn back?”

“No!” he said quickly. “I just want to keep it together.”

“You will,” I assured him. “You’re not alone. You don’t have to have all the answers.”

“Answers?” he said with an ironic chuckle. “What answers? All I’ve got are questions. Come see what I found below.”

I followed him down a wooden ladder to a lower deck. We climbed down one level and moved aft. The ceiling was low. I had to be careful not to bash my head. We walked along a short corridor with doors on either side. A few feet farther, dead ahead, was a doorway. He motioned for me to enter. I stepped past him into the belly of the ship. The large area took up most of the body of the ship. It was empty, except for long rows of wooden shelves that lined both sides. Each shelf looked about six feet long by two feet across. They were simple with no markings or detail. A quick guesstimate said there were about a hundred. Fifty on either side, two levels each.

“What do you think those are for?” he asked.

“They look like bunks,” I answered. “You know, for people to sleep on.”

“That’s what I think,” Siry agreed. “This is no fishing boat. It was built to move people. But who? And to where?”

“I wish I knew” was my honest answer.

Siry looked at me suspiciously. “Who are you, Pendragon? Really? I’ve trusted you and you still haven’t even told me where you’re from.”

“I thought you didn’t want to hear about Travelers and Halla. You think it’s all some fantasy your father thought up.”

“Can you blame me?”

I couldn’t. Siry was scared, and lost. Up until the Flighters’ boat showed up, he thought he pretty much had it all wired. That ended as soon as the first shot was fired. He was floundering. It was the first chance I had to try and get through to him.