Evan Currie - Heirs of Empire

Acceleration wasn’t impressive, but low-end power truly was. A traction rig would effectively tow anything that wasn’t itself locked into place, either via a quantum lock or a vast enough gravity field (which was, in many ways, the same thing).

That made the system ideal for bulk transport and a low-cost passenger service. Since initial acceleration was slow, however, it was really only useful for long distances where velocity could be built up gradually to incredible speeds, with braking applied rapidly toward the end of the run.

Few people, other than some of the designers of the system, were aware that it was possible to make a traction-engine jump track. That was mostly because there was so little point to it. Once free of the quantum track, the traction engine no longer had any, well, traction . Without the track to crawl along, it would spin its proverbial wheels.

Of course, even fewer people were aware of certain other minutiae of the system.

The traction engine jolted slightly, and the captain smiled. The passenger cars had been disconnected, and they’d slow to a stop before the end of the skyway. She had nothing against, nor any use for, the peons traveling from the capital to work their dead-end jobs.

Her interests lay elsewhere.

A figure dropped in the back of the engine, but she only bothered to tilt her head slightly in acknowledgment.

“We’re clear and cut, skipper.”

“Excellent,” she said with a thin smile. “Hold on. This is going to get a little rough.”

“We’re going to crash! We have to get off this thing or we’re dead!” The engineer was panicking.

The captain calmly backhanded him out of his seat, entering another command into the console. “If you really believe that, you’re a sorry piece of work. You should have died rather than set those air brakes back.”

The traction engine and the rest of the train continued to accelerate to the end of the line as she braced herself, withdrawing her Armati Elan back to its compact form and holstering it at her side. She planted her feet wide, gripped the back of the engineer’s chair, and grinned wildly as the train struck the end of the line at ten times the speed of sound … and accelerating.

As the engineer predicted, they jumped the space-time fold like it wasn’t there. There was barely a bump as the traction engine bore on through, heading for the tower with thirty million tons of material hauled right along behind it.

A moment later, however, the engine suddenly jerked hard to the right as it locked into another skyway and continued to do what it was told.

Accelerate.

In the engine room, the engineer and his mate were flung against the wall, not having braced, and lay there, stunned, as they looked at the woman with the flowing red hair who’d hijacked them. The wind from the open hatch blew her hair and loose clothes about as she laughed wildly, holding on as the entire train redirected away from the tower and headed back up into the empty vacuum above.

He’d flinched.

He didn’t mind admitting it.

When the engine jumped the skyway track, he’d thought it was his last moment of life. When nothing had happened a few seconds later, he’d reluctantly opened one eye, and then the other popped open wide at what he saw.

The engine had apparently locked onto another skyway and was happily pulling up and away from the tower as it headed out into the clear vacuum above. He stared for a long moment as canister after canister of invaluable cargo just sailed right past his tower and then glanced back at the now slowing capsules containing passengers; he swore as he realized what was happening.

“Find out what skyway they’re on now ,” the commander ordered, still a little numb and unbelieving, “and get rescue flying. I want those people off the capsules before they lose q lock. Without the engine powering them, we don’t have more than a few minutes.”

“Yes, commander!”

The pirate skimmer was now under full rigging, dropping low behind its wind turbines as it tightened up for speed and angled to follow the departing engine and train. He focused in on its markings and swore again—loudly.

“Commander?”

“It’s the Andros .”

“What’s the Andros , sir?”

“The skimmer,” he said. “It’s the Andros Pak . An Imperial yacht stolen from the emperor’s own hangar last month.”

His subordinate stared at him, wide-eyed. “Who could do that? Who would be crazy enough to even try?”

He didn’t blame him for wondering. If you wanted to steal a yacht, there were easier ones to grab—hell, there were easier military vessels to grab.

“Cadre Commander Mira Delsol,” he said, shaking his head.

Mira hopped the short distance from the traction engine to where the Andros was edging alongside, accepting a hand from her mate to steady her as she landed.

“Any problems?” he asked.

“Smooth as silken sheets, Gaston,” she said with a sly smile. “A perfect mission.”

“Good. Next time, perhaps you’ll stay on board? You are the skipper.”

Mira shrugged simply, uninterested in the debate.

“I’m the skipper of a pirate skimmer, Gas,” she said, smirking just slightly. “Fuck the rules.”

Her mate just sighed and clapped her on the shoulder as she passed.

“Hot tea is ready in your stateroom. I’ll oversee the rest.”

“Just make sure they jump tracks a few times, or the guardsmen will get them,” she warned.

Gaston rolled his eyes. “I may not be your grandpa, Mira, but I know how to pluck a grapha fruit. Go get some food and leave the menial work to the people who do it best.”

She snorted. “You’re one of the empire’s top engineers, Gas. Pull the other one.”

“If they get you, I’m a smear on the wall,” he told her seriously, “which is why I’d appreciate it if you showed a little more caution.”

“If you wanted safe, you should have stayed with the empire.”

He watched her go, shaking his head.

“No amount of safety is worth selling my eternal pattern, Mira.”

“Letting them come with us is a risk, Lyd.”

Lydia shrugged as she and Brennan walked with the pair they’d saved, who were currently struggling to catch up. The twins adjusted their pace carefully so that it wouldn’t be too hard for them to catch up, but they wouldn’t make it too easy for the stricken teens. If they were the sort to give up, neither Scourwind wanted them at their back.

“Hang on,” the boy said as he reached the siblings first. “My sister’s not in great shape.”

Lyd and Brennan exchanged glances and nodded slightly, slowing almost imperceptibly in response.

“I’m Mikael,” the boy said, breathing hard from just the short rush. “This is my sister, D—”

“Dusk,” the girl said, catching up. “I’m Dusk.”

“Good to meet you,” Lydia said neutrally. “I’m Lydia. This is Brennan.”

“Thank you both,” Mikael said tiredly, Dusk nodding beside him. “Both for helping and for …” He held up the waterskin and shrugged.

“Don’t worry about it,” Brennan said curtly. “We’re leaving the camp, so if there’s anyone you want to go back to, you may want to do it now.”

“We don’t have anyone,” Dusk said softly. “Our family was caught in the cross fire …”

She stopped, looking down, and the other three teens found that they didn’t have any words to fill the silence. Brennan and Lydia both flashed back to watching Kayle as he went down under fire from the soldiers who’d invaded the palace.