[center][h2]Chasing Sunset[/h2][/center]


[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/U2BLHNj.png[/img]
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Loaded with her precious cargo, China Doll rose into the air.  Her dual atmo turbine engines roared as the boat’s nose swung toward the Northwest.  A deft tap to her throttles started her on her way toward the Blackout Zone…and those they hoped to rescue.

From his place in the captain’s usual chair, Yuri watched as the new pilot took to the yolk like a duck to water.  To his mechanic’s sensibilities, Tommy didn’t possess the graceful finesse of the last pilot.  [i]But,[/i] he reasoned, [i]for a first launch he’s got a solid technique.[/i]  As China Doll rose into the air, her First Mate recalled what little he actually knew about the situation into which they’d fly this time.

[i]”I need the Doll in the BZ, pronto.”[/i]

And nothing more, though Hook’s surprise early return with the final dozen Anabaptists offered some fodder for reading between the lines.  Something went South.  Yuri conjured that ‘something’ to involve a scorned detective and his slaver cohorts.  “Tommy,” he said as their upthrust cleared them of their docking berth, “swing her around to the Northwest, two-eight-five degrees.  We’re looking for an open space  everyone calls ‘The Brickyard.’   Help me watch for it, [i]dohn mah?[/i]

Cargo bay always got way loud when they’s takin’ off.  Folk conjured tha racket come from the cargo itself, but Abby knowed it’s strapped an’ wrapped down tight.  Whatever museum pieces was closed up in them fridge crates weren’t makin’ a peep tah her ear.  But China Doll had a song she sang, a chorus of squeaks an’ rattles tah join tha roar of ‘er atmo engines.  Them’s never heard it afore got all panicky, like they’s askeert she’s gon’ fly herself apart.  But the deckhand, strapped inta her fold down jump seat, heard tha music of a tough old boat.  Yeah, she creaked and moaned a tetch, but so did Uncle Bob when he got up.  And they both got the job done.

She felt tha turn, tha lean in and push as the engines carried ‘em forward.  Ain’t much been told yet ‘bout where they’s goin, but the girl reckoned it had tah be one place, that Blackout Zone.  [i]Cap’n’s in a scrape,[/i] she pondered.  Didn’t know who with, but Abby found ‘erself hopin’ its’ bikers.  Mayhaps if t’was, she could pull on that cut an’ use her newfangled sisterhood in Headhunters MC tah talk Cap’n outta whatever he done got hisself inta.  “Leverage,” she seen it called once in a book.

“That’s shiny,”  Yuri said as the gleaming spires of Capital City gave way to the dull grey of the warehouse district.  “Hold this heading.”  China Doll flew in low, skimming the rooftops as the rough confines of the Blackout Zone drew ever closer.  There hadn’t been time to file a flight plan for this unscheduled hop, leaving both the pilot and first mate in agreement that keeping off the local radar was the best way to avoid a land lock.  

He saw the border wall and its’ onerous checkpoint pass beneath them.  The first sun had just set, and the second was a deepening orange on the horizon.  The tenements over which they flew now huddled in lengthening shadow, their squalor reminding Yuri of ancient cities on Earth-That-Was whose slumbers had been disturbed by the archaeoligist’s shovel.  “Not much further,” he said, his eyes peeled forward as he studied the approaching landscape.  “There,” the first mate pointed.  “Two o’clock.  That’s our landing site.”

The world tilted as China Doll banked toward the broad, open space.  “Sam,” Yuri spoke to the ever attentive AI, “let the captain know we’re on the ground in 1 tick.”   He grabbed the intercom mic which dangled from above.  “All hands, this is the first mate,” he announced.  “We’re feet down in the brickyard in just under a minute. Here’s what I need.”

Through the forward viewpane, he could see the approaching brickyard, a checkerboard of aging foundations whose buildings had long since devolved into heaps of rubble and the piles of ancient brick they’d harvested.  “Hook, Imani, Elias,” Yuri spoke into the mic, “strap up and meet me at the cargo ramp. Abby,” he continued, “I want you in the catwalk…with your rifle.”

China Doll swept in, her landing lights playing over the uneven patchwork as she whirled in a neat one-eighty, clawlike struts deploying to catch the ground beneath her.  “Tommy,” Yuri said to the pilot, “Keep her idling.  We’re off this rock the instant we take our own aboard.”  His orders given, the first mate bolted from the cockpit.

“Copy.”  Soon’s she felt touchdown, Abby’s outta that jump seat, set off in a dead run fer tha aft  cargo bay hatch.  She cranked it open an’ bolted through with a leap down inta tha medbay lounge.

At sight of the deckhand, Edina wriggled free of her safety straps.  “What’s happening, Abby?” she asked as the girl raced past.

“Gitcher gun!” the girl shouted over ‘er shoulder as she made tracks fer her room.  Din’ take but a tick fer her tah unsheath the Mosin.  Abby slung it over her right shoulder, afore scoopin’ up all her mags an’s stuffin’ ‘em in pockets.  Not bein’ sure just what sorta trouble’s gon’ follow tha Cap’n aboard, she took a second tah strap the Colt’s holster onta her waist.  Now she’s rigged an’ ready, the girl headed back from whence she came, makin’ for tha cargo bay.

She seen Edina, lookin’ nervous with a pistol handgrip nudgin’ out sideways from her sweater pocket.

The gun felt heavy, tugging her sweater down as it threatened to fall out of her pocket.  Edina tried adjusting the weapon, the struggle proving futile as Abby rushed back into the medbay lounge.  The girl looked ready to fight a gorram war!  “What’s going on?” she asked the heavily armed teenager.

Abby held up a second after seein’ tha look in Edina’s eyes.  “We’re pickin’ up tha Cap’n,” she answered.  “I conjure Yuri’s got us prepped fer any sorta fight may try tah follow him on board.”  

She had so many questions, but for now, there was only one that mattered.  “What should I do?” Edina asked.

“Dog this hatch,” Abby replied.  “Don’t open up fer nobody, less Cap’n or Yuri gives tha ‘all clear.”  She din’ wait for no answer.  Abby hurried through tah tha cargo bay.  As she climbed them catwalk steps she could hear tha hatch slam shut an’ lockin’ bolts slidin’ home.  Once she got up top, tha girl emptied mags from ‘er pockets.  She sat down, cross legged In’jun style tah git sitchiated.  One mag slipped inta tha Mosin, and t’others was set layin’ close tah hand in a neat row.  At tha end of the line, she placed tha Colt.  

The girl leaned her long rifle against tha railin’, afore pullin’ a hairband outta her breast pocket.  As she tied ‘er hair back inta a ponytail, Abby watched as Yuri, Hook, Imani, an’ Elias all made ready fer whatever’s ‘bout tah come when they dropped tha ramp.  When he looked her way, she give him a nod.  She’s ready.

Yuri acknowledged the teenager with a nod of his own.  “Just  remember,” he told the crewmembers at his side, “we’re here for the captain and whoever else he’s bringing aboard.  We get them in, and we go.  We don’t shoot unless we’re shot at.  Everybody clear on that?” the First Mate demanded.  “Hook,” his eye found the cook.  “Lower the ramp.”

****To Be Continued****