As the man hurried up the spiral staircase beside the elevator, which was reserved exclusively for the use of the Aristos, Jan saw that black lines seemed to be growing towards them from the other airship.
“Cables,” said Gorman bitterly when the Prince asked him what they were. “The last batch of gliders were trailing out thin wires as they came. Now they’re being used to haul over heavier cables. They aim to tether us.”
“Enough of this!” Prince Caspar suddenly shouted. He drew his sword, waved it with a flourish and headed towards the elevator. “I am going up to fight these scum! Who is with me?”
None of the other Aristo men made a move to follow him. Lady Jane stepped forward. “Caspar, don’t be reckless. You mustn’t put your life in danger needlessly. Let the Sky Warriors handle it.”
“Why should they have all the fun? No, I’m going topside.”
“No, Caspar,” said Lady Jane, more loudly. “You must remain here. I may need your protection.”
This made him hesitate. “Oh, Mother …” he whined. “You don’t need my protection, You’re perfectly safe here. But I’ll leave Dalwyn with you if you’re really worried. …”
“I want you to stay with me, Caspar,” said Lady Jane. “It’s your duty.”
Caspar stamped his foot on the deck. “But I have to do something, mother! I just can’t wait here doing nothing!”
“I agree with you, sire,” interceded Gorman. “I suggest we order the forward batteries to open fire on the Perfumed Breeze.” Everyone looked at him. “But the lasers … our shells won’t reach their target,” said the Prince.
Gorman shrugged. “Probably not, but at this range there may be a chance. But even if none do the resulting explosions and laser flashes may sever some of those damn cables.”
“Do it then!” commanded the Prince. “Give the order.”
Gorman picked up the mike. “Attention forward batteries. Open fire at will! Open fire at will!”
About fifteen or twenty seconds later there came a dull boom as one of the cannons was fired. Then, to the astonishment of every one in the control room, they saw an explosion on the hull of the intruder. The shell hit near a thruster and when the smoke cleared there was a jagged-edged hole some twelve feet across in the hull.
“No lasers!” cried the Prince amid the cheering. “Their lasers can’t be working!”
Gorman was already yelling into the mike. “Attention all batteries! Open fire! Open fire! The target is undefended! I repeat, the target is undefended!”
They waited expectantly for the sound of more cannon fire. But it didn’t come.
“What’s the matter with those fools?” erupted the Prince. “Why aren’t they firing?”
“I think I know why,” Gorman said, grim-faced.
“That settles it,” said Caspar. “I am going topside. I’m going to take personal command of one of the batteries and blow that gang of pirates out of the sky myself!”
But before he could move there came the clatter of footsteps on the spiral staircase above. It was the Engineer who Gorman had sent to see what was happening.
“Bad news,” he gasped as he came down the stairs. “The invaders are inside the Lord Pangloth. There are hundreds and hundreds of them. They fight like demons. Our Sky Warriors are no match for them.”
Prince Caspar stepped forward and grabbed the man by the shoulder. “What sections of the ship have they penetrated?” he demanded.
“I’m not certain—everything is so confused up there. People running from the invaders one way, and meeting people fleeing from the opposite direction. But I heard someone say that the invaders are definitely inside your Lords’ and Ladyships’ quarters, sire.”
Oh Mother God, thought Jan when she heard this, Ceri.
“We’re done for,” muttered Prince Magid.
“Not necessarily,” said Gorman. “We are still in control of the nerve centre of the Lord Pangloth. And if we seal the hatchway and disable the elevator we should remain in control.”
“But what good will that do us?” asked the Prince. “We’re helpless! Look at those cables! If we tried to flee we’d just drag those pirates along with us.”
“But there’s nothing to stop us from going forward, sire,” Gorman told him.
“You mean, ram them? But we’d destroy ourselves as well.”
“I suggest we use the threat of ramming the Perfumed Breeze to force the invaders to negotiate with us,” said Gorman. “If they think we’re just bluffing, well then—” he shrugged—“better to die by our own hand than to be butchered by these orientals.”
There was silence in the control room for a few moments then Caspar nodded his agreement. “You’re right, Gorman. Have your men seal the entrance immediately.”
But before anyone could make a move there came again the clattering of footsteps from the top of the spiral staircase. Presuming that the first of the invaders was entering the control room Caspar and Dalwyn drew their swords and rushed forward.
A blood-soaked figure came into view. He was wearing shredded overalls and was carrying a sword the like of which Jan had never seen before. At first she didn’t recognize the blood-spattered man. As he reached the bottom of the stairs she gasped with surprise. It was Milo.
Chapter Nineteen
Milo stopped at base of the staircase, looked around and grinned broadly. “Forgive the intrusion, your Royal Highnesses, but I’m on a rather important errand. I did intend to be here sooner but the traffic up there is murder.”
The Aristos and the Engineers stared uncomprehendingly at Milo. Then Dalwyn spotted the brand on Milo’s cheek. “He’s a slave!” he cried.
“An ex-slave, I’d say, judging by the mess upstairs.” Then he spotted Jan. “Hi Jan!” he called cheerfully. “I hoped I’d find you here. Where’s the terminal?”
As Jan pointed Lady Jane said to her, “You know him?”
Jan nodded. “His name is Milo. The one I told you about. The one who, er, befriended me.”
Milo was looking at Prince Caspar and Dalwyn, who stood before him with their swords drawn. “Out of my way, your Worshipfulnesses. I don’t want to harm you but I need to get to that terminal over there.”
“Slave,” commanded the Prince. “Put down your sword or suffer the consequences.”
“I’ll say it one more time—out of my way. It won’t be long before the Japs get down here and I’ve got a lot to do before they do.” He raised the strange sword.
“Dalwyn,” said the Prince, “kill him.”
Dalwyn lunged at Milo.
Milo didn’t move; he blurred. At the same time there came a sickening sound of sharp metal chopping through flesh and bone and Dalwyn’s head was suddenly racing through the air. His headless body, meanwhile, toppled to the deck and lay there twitching. To Jan it seemed, for a few moments, as if it was trying to get up again but then it went mercifully still. She looked at Milo. He was still grinning. His eyes had an insane look to them. “Next!” he said, to Caspar.
“He’s a sorcerer!” gasped someone.
Caspar was staring fearfully at Dalwyn’s decapitated corpse. Slowly he lowered his sword and backed away from Milo.
“That’s the spirit,” said Milo approvingly and bounded towards the terminal. People collided with each other in their efforts to keep well away from him. He surveyed the console with satisfaction then turned. “Jan!” he said beckoning to her. “Here. I need you.”