[h3]James E. Carter[/h3]

“I’m not a threat,” Carter called again, his voice hoarse. He leaned just enough to peek past the edge of the crate, one hand still raised, “I’m not pointing a gun at anyone. I don’t want this to end with somebody dead.”

He saw Aden then, advancing toward the ramp with his pistol still up, knife drawn in his other hand. The sight twisted something in Carter’s gut as he quickly took full cover again. 

“I’m not running at you,” Carter said, louder now, trying to cut through the whirlwind coming into the bay from the opened ramp, “I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

Before Aden could reply, Urses shifted from cover and moved directly behind the Inburian, angling himself to Aden’s flank, rifle shouldered up.

“Don’t listen to him,” Urses snapped, talking over Aden, “He already attacked once. He’s a thief, he’s desperate, and he’s lying. Carter, this is your last warning. Drop everything and lie flat on the deck!”

Carter’s jaw clenched, he still had his hand out from cover.

“I’m not—”

The rifle fired. The bullet tore past his exposed hand, close enough that the air narrowly brushed his fingers and the sound rang through his bones. Carter recoiled instinctively, his breath tore out of his chest and without thinking he shoved himself hard against the crate he’d been sheltering behind. The stacked boxes shifted then toppled down with a violent clatter. Gold bars thundered loose as crates smashed into one another and the orderly rows collapsed into metal and wood clattering against each other.

Carter broke from cover as this happened. 

He sprinted down the ramp, boots slipping on the deck as another shout went up behind him. He didn’t look back, the open mouth of the ship laid ahead and at the edge, he slid down.

As he came out of the ramp his hands caught rope instead of air. The impact ripped a grunt from his throat as the burn tore through his gloves and into his palms, the sleek blood of his injured hand almost making his hold slip. He wrapped an arm around the line, teeth clenched as the rope burned and slid, his wounded arm screaming in pain.

The airship began to loom above him as he slid downward toward the port below.