J. King - PLANESHIFT

"If not power, how about landing spines?" Sisay asked. "Can you give us landing spines?"

No response came this time.

Sisay wrenched the wheel, but the rudder was dead.

With a heart-rending shriek, Weatherlight's keel sawed across a shoulder of basalt. The impact hurled Sisay against the helm. The ship bounded again skyward. Complaint sounded from every plank and fitting. She soared in air a moment longer before coming down to stay. Scree scraped across the mirror hull of her port side. The ship listed toward the mountain. She slid on her gunwale. Her decks were pitched at a steep slope. Chattering, shuddering, thudding, Weatherlight at last hung up on a gnarl of stone. She came to rest leaning against the edge of the volcano.

Sisay breathed a deep sigh. Her fingers were black from the ruined helm, and her knuckles were white. Blinking at the tilted world beyond, she said simply, "Damn."

It took her some moments to extricate herself from the charred bridge and its wreckage. By the time she reached the amidships deck, it was crowded.

Tahngarth stood there, his arms crossed over burns on his chest. He stared in amazement at the ruined ship. Orim worked nearby, tending to scores of other wounded crew members. Multani formed a body for himself out of charred wood and frayed hemp. Even he looked defeated.

The shattered hatchway poured thick white steam into the air. The engines had overloaded. They flooded the lower companionways with broiling air. Weatherlight bled her life into the sky.

With angry, sober eyes, Sisay greeted her crew. "Well, I guess that's it."

Tahngarth considered her face. "That's what?"

She spread her hands bitterly. "That's it. That's all we can do. We've lost half of our crew, including Gerrard and Squee. We've lost our ship. We've lost our commanders. We've fought all we can fight. That's it."

Her words could not have seemed truer. That moment, a vast army appeared on the lip of the volcano. They stared down at the ruined ship, and the first platoons began to march toward them.

"Crovax is in his Stronghold," Sisay said, "and all is wrong with the world."

The ruined hatch emitted a new flood of steam. A curling white head of mist rose through the space. It glowed from below. A silver skull appeared, bathed in light. Karn rose up the steps. He bore something in his grasp. It was a book, an open book- The Thran Tome. He emerged from the mists, his figure dotted with condensation.

Karn strode toward his friends and looked up. His eyes glowed brighter than even the tome. He spoke in a voice like a distant avalanche.

"I know what we need to do. I know how we can save the world."