Chapter Twenty-Eight

"They have a ship," Contemplation said, "for traveling the stars?" She turned to him and finally seemed to see him for who he was.

"Yes," he said. "Those ships are getting more and more common these days."

"Then perchance…perchance we could ask them for help against the Cinder King? Or we could get passage on their ship or… You're looking at me with an expression that says I've said something insane."

"The Night Brigade commands armies of the dead," he said. "They're largely a mercenary force, known for their brutal efficiency. They're the only army I know that makes you keep on fighting after you've died. They are not sympathetic to the problems of local people. To put it mildly."

"Very well," she said. "Then what do we do?"

"Get back under cloud cover," he said, striding toward the hub of Beacon. "Run dark, as you're so good at doing. They won't know immediately where to find me and will need time to survey the planet. I hoped it would take them longer to follow me to this system, but we've still got time."

"Fine," Contemplation said, barely keeping up. "But let me offer this reminder: you recognize the limited nature of that very time, correct? We are approaching the mountains at a frightening rate."

"We're close to being on schedule," he said. "Two more hours for fabrication and installation."

"An incredible pace."

"But doable," he said, "now that we have a working engine prototype. We don't need to swap out most of your equipment; I designed this to work with the ship structures you have. The hardest part is getting the boilers in place, but those are the simplest parts to fabricate—and should go quickly."

"Another hour or two up the slope," Contemplation continued.

"Again, doable," Nomad said.

"Yes, but the higher you go, the closer to sunrise you get us. And the more likely we are to be killed by it." She pointed at the horizon. "At this point, we flirt with getting so high, we no longer have the shadow of the planet's protection."

It was true. But it should work. If they kept the timeline. If nothing went wrong.

He ignored the part of him that whispered that something always went wrong.

He found the engineers—who had set up under a tent on the deck, as all the buildings were either being jettisoned or filled with people.

"Time is tight," Nomad said to them. "We need to start fabricating the boilers."

"We aren't ready," Solemnity Divine said. "We need another iteration."

"Not enough time," he said. "Instead of a new engine, we just modify the one we know works."

He summoned Auxiliary as a rough model of a ship, then turned it over on the bottom. His modifications put a boiler near the engine, hanging off the bottom of the ship. It was the only way to install one quickly, since the tops of these ships were living spaces and they didn't have time to cut through.

The water towers were on the tops of the vessels, so his design ran large water lines down to the boilers, which superheated the water using sunhearts, then injected it into the engine proper. That, modified by his schematics, spit the steam and heat out the bottom and generated thrust. Not the most efficient engine ever, but the concentrated power source made it viable.

"Look," he said, pointing at the water line. "Just put an inhibitor right here. Less water in means less water out, and therefore less thrust. Make this inhibitor variable and wire it into the ship controls, so we can increase or decrease thrust at will."

Solemnity Divine looked at his design, then smacked her forehead. "Right. Of course. Such an easy fix."

It was a time-tested adage in engineering. Why redesign when you could patch the old model? That led to short-term fixes, but that was all they needed.

"We must do more tests," another engineer said. "A stress test at least! We don't know if this design will last longer than a five-minute burn!"

"Install this all on my hovercycle. I'll take it up the mountain, perform a stress test, and make sure it works. While I'm gone, you get these modifications installed on the remaining ships. Don't forget lateral thrusting ability—we'll need to be able to go forward, not just up."

He left them in a buzz and stepped back over to Contemplation, who watched the sky and that blazing light of a warship. He wondered how much load it put on their shields to withstand the power of that sunlight. It seemed like what he'd felt should overwhelm most shields. Again, his mind itched with the worry that something wasn't adding up.

"How dangerous are they?" she asked.

"I know of no force more dangerous. They have been known to leave entire planets desolate. Fortunately the Night Brigade aren't mindless pillagers. They're a precision force and will do whatever their contract—or in this case, their goal—demands."

"Then…they could destroy us all."

"If they wished," Nomad said. "Thing is, though…destroying a planet? That takes work, Contemplation. Work they're not getting paid for. They should leave you mostly alone." He paused, then glanced toward the hub. "Hopefully they won't want your shades. They have a thing for ghosts."

She looked to him, pale, worried. "What kind of mercenary force," she said, "can control shades well enough to use them as soldiers?"

"If they get close, I'll leave," he said. "You'll be better for it. Tell the Night Brigade everything—all about me, everything they ask you to tell them. Don't try to hide anything. Playing dumb won't drive them away. Comply with everything they ask you to do; make it easier for them to leave you alive than kill you. It's the only way to escape from them with your limbs—and soul—still attached."

She nodded. "I will tell the others. Adonalsium—or whatever god you follow—bless your flight, Sunlit."

"I'll settle," he said, "for no gods intentionally thwarting me for once."

She seemed troubled by that statement—as well she should.

He worked frantically with the engineers. And a short time later, on the back of a small, battery-powered hovercycle, he raced into the shadows.