Diving from five kilometers up with little more than wood and canvas wings to break his fall wasn’t exactly what Jim would call a normal day. But then again, when was the last time he’d had a normal day? Diving, shooting, brawling, running...so much running. This was just another misadventure in the crazy life of a wanderer turned pirate turned revolutionary.

Below, a white, puffy cloud layer loomed, looking deceptively soft. He knew though, a short distance below its inviting wisps was a very wooden, very hard landing. If he missed, he’d have another minute or so to think about it before he met an unceremonious end with the dune sea. If his aim was true, he’d have to time his wing deployment perfectly or risk becoming a stain on the side of the enemy airship.

“Woooohoooo!” Jim turned to see Alia Rychist, his captain, wife, and future mother to his child. She was obviously enjoying herself. Next to her, Vachir and Sandra Mason cut through the air with the grace and style of true professionals. Their finned metal helmets gleamed in the afternoon sun. Each of the divers’ bodies were rigid and perfectly pointed as they plummeted downward like human bombs.

Jim couldn’t risk turning his head for fear of disrupting his course. Instead, he glanced left through his peripheral vision, straining against the age fogged brass diving goggles. He was pretty sure he saw a small grin replace Sandra’s usual stoic expression for a moment.

Whoosh.

Suddenly, they struck the top of the cloud layer. Jim knew it was just vapor and air but, he couldn’t stop himself from involuntarily flinching at the imagined obstacle below. Instantly, the world was white, and he was freezing. Cool, moist air had a way of doing that when one pushed through it at over three hundred kilometers an hour. A quick shiver worked its way down his spine.

Jim held up the multi watch on his left hand, careful not to change his dive direction. The complicated contraption told time, altitude, temperature, and displayed awakened power levels. Cramming all that cutting edge technology into one device resulted in an overly cumbersome but necessary extra weight. Jim watched the altimeter tick down. The dial spun worryingly fast in a counterclockwise motion as the group continued their controlled fall.

4km….3.8km...3.4km….3.1km…

At three kilometers, Jim shot his arms and legs out, slowing his descent, but only slightly. He had to keep his concentration on the fall direction or risk colliding with Alia and harming her or the child that had been growing within her for three months. He’d attempted to talk her out of the dive the day before but as always, Alia was a rock of stubbornness that could not be moved.

It was infuriating to him sometimes but, her strength of will was also one of her most endearing qualities. Now, he had another life to protect though. He was teetering on the sharp edge of worry and anger. Worry for his wife and child to be, and anger for her obvious irresponsibility. Jim was usually a man of brevity, but he always found plenty of colorful expletives when arguing with Alia.

Jim took a breath and focused on the task ahead. As quickly as they had entered, the group erupted from the underside of the cloud. Wisps of vapor twisted into small swirl formations, leaving white trails behind them. Below, much closer than they’d expected, the Alliance airship stuck out like a black boulder floating kilometers above a coarse sea of golden sand.

“Deploy! Deploy!” Alia shouted through the rushing wind. Live or die, the dive would end soon, and Jim was glad for it. He pulled the deploy cord hard, hoping for a better result than his last dive. The last time he’d attempted to use bail wings, he had nearly fallen to his death when the primary cord had broken off in his hand.

Fortune favored him. His hard tug was met with the familiar thump of wind meeting canvas. Jim’s body was jolted by the sudden loss of velocity. A copper taste filled his mouth followed by a delayed pain in his tongue. To either side, the others deployed their wings. Each turned their finned heads to direct their direction. Soon, the group was spiraling downward toward the lazily floating airship.

The mission would require absolute silence and stealth. If the alarm was raised prematurely, they’d have a fight in close quarters against at least seven to one odds. The tough part would be not killing the captives. Awakened priests and acolytes were all firmly under the mind control of the Prophetess and thus, each of them were the enemy. Yet, they were also the group’s objective.

To get at the four or five awakened crew members, they’d have to fight their way, silently, through at least a few dozen Alliance soldiers. Just another day among many. Another day of adventure. Another day of mortal peril.

Ahead of Jim, Sandra Mason bled off as much velocity as possible in her final approach. Behind her, the group had finished its downward corkscrew maneuver and were lining up for a soft, hopefully silent touchdown. Jim would be the last to land. With only a few dozen meters to remaining, Sandra arched her back into a standing position and pulled the cord for her first air bottle. Jim watched from the back, impressed at her abilities.

The small canister of compressed air expelled its contents violently. The sudden thrust was enough to counteract gravity and slow her fall to just a meter per second. Her black military boots landed on the canvas with near perfect grace. Seconds later, Vachir and Alia repeated the same maneuver.

Great, Jim mumbled under the wind. Way to set the bar high, guys.

The canvas of the small airship’s balloon was coming up fast...too fast. Jim arched his back, attempting to use his bail wings as air brakes before deploying his first canister. Unfortunately, his maneuver had been executed too early. He still needed to bleed velocity. The result was not exactly what he’d hoped for.

Suddenly, his splayed body shot upward. Before he could react, he stopped mid air and begun to plummet backwards. Quickly, he drew his wings in and pulled the cord for his first canister. The violent push slowed his fall as he’d hoped. It also spun him into a triple backward somersault. His backside hurt more than his pride.

“I’ve never met someone with such an ineptitude for bailwings,” Vachir whispered as he reached down to help Jim to his feet. Jim was still seeing stars as he stumbled forward. Alia and Sandra snickered at him while they affixed their clamps to two of the many J-ropes holding the balloon to the airship.

The J was short for Jacob’s ladder - a common name for the wide, net-like rope ladders that could be found on both landships and airship. On landships, they served as simple climbing ladders to the crow’s nest or other parts of the mainmast. But, on airships, they seconded as netting to hold the balloon in place. Nobody knew who Jacob was but, the name had been part of daily vernacular since the beginning of recorded history.

Jim replied as he and Vachir fastened their own clamps into position, “Well, I am and awakened of earth after all. Not too much of that up here. I consider landing with no bones broken to be a personal best.”

He snapped the clamp into place and nodded at the rest. From here on out, they would have to operate in silence.

Alia gave the signal to begin. The group adjusted their clamps and started their slow descent over the side of the balloon. Below, the edge of the bag swam in a passing patch of murky clouds. From their angle, it appeared as if they were descending into nothingness. Jim hated this part.

Clearing the edge of the balloon, they went from rappelling to free hanging. As they continued their drop, the topdeck of the ship resolved in the mist. Alia motioned quickly for them to stop. Using one hand, she relayed instructions to Sandra.

Two targets. Ten and one o’clock. Fifteen meters. Sandra, use the daggers.

Sandra nodded. Reaching into her flight jacket, she withdrew two small knives from a bandolier. The small weapons were only about fifteen centimeters long but were absolutely deadly. Each had been laced with Suahm venom gland extract.

The giant lizards could reach over three meters in length and were difficult to hunt. Most arduous though was capturing one alive. The paralyzing venom had to be extracted from a living Suahm in order to retain maximum potency. None made it easy. It had taken the crew of the Liberator weeks just to find one and capture it. Needless to say, every throwing dagger was immensely valuable.

Enter ex-Lieutenant Colonel Sandra Mason. As the only non-awakened among them, she more than made up for it with a frightening proficiency for virtually every exotic weapon in the book. Taking a breath, she focused on her target. Suddenly, the first soldier collapsed in place, his rifle rattling on the deck. Jim never even saw her hand move.

The second soldier turned to examine the sound. His face twisted as he nearly sounded the alarm. A quick squish preceded his face first collision into the deck. From his back, the small black handle of the poisoned dagger sat, awaiting extraction.

With the immediate danger over, the group descended down the remaining segment of J ladder and pulled themselves onto the deck. Vachir and Jim quickly tossed the paralysed soldiers overboard. Although the men would likely bleed out from their wounds before the paralysis wore off, they couldn’t take the chance. The last thing their still very awake minds would experience would be the distinct feeling of falling and the inability to move followed by a high speed impact with the sand below.

The group was moving again. In the lead, Sandra’s thick military grade boots were surprisingly silent on the wooden deck. Both bloodied daggers had already been sheathed and two new ones had taken their place. Jim, Alia, and Vachir each drew their scimitars. Using awakened powers would alert any awakened of air on board, not to mention the commotion it would cause. This mission had to be carried out the old fashioned way - with steel.

As they approached the hatch to the gundeck, Vachir stepped forward. Placing his hands on the wooden slat, he closed his eyes and concentrated. He could only use his powers for a moment or risk alerting any other awakened onboard. After a long second, he opened his eyes.

He whispered as quietly as he could over the hum of the the engines and the whistling winds, “Three soldiers near the entrance. Two fire awakened somewhere on the far end of the gundeck. I didn’t have time to pinpoint the last one but, I think, there’s an air awakened down in the hold with a few more soldiers. One other thing. There’s at least five or six more Alliance up in the quarterdeck, hopefully sleeping.”

Alia sighed and considered her options. She would have to do it fast because, each moment they spent on the ship, they risked detection. After another few moments, she asked quietly, “Sandra, how confident are you in your throwing abilities?”

“I’d say, I’m a decent shot,” Sandra replied in a hushed monotone. The daggers sheathed in her double bandoleers said otherwise though.

Vachir scoffed, “Riiight. What Miss. False Humility here means to say is, she is likely the best shot in the land of Ruin. I’ve seen her hit moving targets out to twenty meters with frightening accuracy.”

Before Sandra could protest, Alia raised a hand for silence. The distinctive sound of feet on wood echoed up through the hatch. Someone was coming up the ladder. The group shifted to the foredeck side of the wooden slat and waited. The hatch creaked open and a brown haired man in his early twenties, facing aft, popped his head out.

“Hey, Rashid,” he called. “Second watch is about to start and I’m starving. Where ya -” Alia grabbed the back of the soldier’s neck. A small burst of awakened energy rendered him instantly unconscious. Before he could collapse to the gundeck below, Jim and Vachir grabbed his arms and swiftly hauled him onto the topdeck.

They were out of time. The plan would have to evolve with each step. Alia whispered to Sandra, “Save those daggers for the two awakened below. Go for non vitals if you can. Even a glancing blow should paralyze them. The whole point of this is to keep them alive.” Turning to Jim, she added, “You and Vachir, dispatch the two guards. Remember, no awakened power unless absolutely needed.”

The point didn’t need to be debated. The captain was the captain and, the plan was the plan. Each of them nodded in agreement. Hopefully, the soldiers would be near enough to the hatch ladder to be caught off guard. After quickly throwing the unconscious soldier overboard, Jim locked both rails between his boots and dropped down with Vachir following closely behind.

As soon as his feet hit solid wood, Jim was off in a sprint. The soldiers were not as close as he had hoped. Ten meters ahead, the remaining two guards turned from their conversation to face the fast moving shadow that had burst onto the gundeck. The first opened his mouth to shout. His head was removed from his shoulders in a spray of blood and flash of steel.

The second guard was a bit lighter on his feet. Rolling away from Jim, he jumped back up with scimitar in hand. Vachir was on him before he could react. It wasn’t fast enough though. The man parried Vachir’s first overhead strike and shouted, “Intruders!! INTRUD-” Jim’s blade sung as it entered and exited the man’s windpipe in one quick motion.

Two blurs flew by Jim’s head with a sharp whistle. Sandra’s daggers found their targets across the room. Both awakened had raised their arms to incinerate Jim and Vachir but, their attack wouldn’t come. The first dagger buried itself into the left side of the first man while the second, a girl who appeared to be in her late teens was far less fortunate. From her left leg, blood spilled out, too fast for a superficial wound. Both awakened collapsed backwards from the instant paralysis.

“Shit,” Sandra exclaimed as she ran across the room the check on the girl. “I was aiming to graze her leg, not penetrate an artery.”

Jim was no less impressed. Hitting the small teen’s leg at all from twenty meters away was nothing short of incredible as far as he was concerned. Above, a sudden commotion of feet on deck plates told them, their secret was out.

He turned to Alia who was also running to check on the awakened girl. Pointing back, he shouted, “Alia, burn the hatch. It will buy us some time. I’ll take care of the girl.” He ripped a strip from his undershirt and hurried over to the fallen acolyte. Her skin was already growing pale with blood loss as he tied the cloth tightly around her leg.

Alia raised her arms toward the gundeck entrance. The first soldier was already dropping through the hatch, rifle in hand. Nearby, a steadily burning flame from one of the glass enclosed gas lights burst from its container and leapt into her hand. In a moment, she had formed it into a raging ball of orange fire. Pointing her open palm forward, she willed the ball of destruction toward the entrance.

With a loud boom and a blast of superheated air, the hatchway, and the unfortunate soldier, was incinerated. Jim could feel the air being sucked in through the open gun ports to feed the hungry fire. More men, no doubt caught in the explosion, screamed above. “We have to get these two out of here!” Jim yelled over the shouts of men and the crackle of burning wood.

Before anyone could answer, a bolt of white electricity leapt across the room and struck Alia. Jim watched in horror as her body jerked and hit the deck plating hard. He turned to face their attacker who had emerged from the hatch to the cargo hold but, Vachir was already on it.

Vachir’s arm thrust forward to return the favor, but his lightning found an empty hatchway. The awakened of air had already retreated back down below. Suddenly, gunshots rang out and two new holes appeared inches from Vachir’s feet. The soldiers below were shooting blindly through the flooring. More loud cracks sounded from above.

“Ah hell,” Vachir grunted angrily. “This thing is taking a really bad turn.” Leaning down, he picked up Alia’s limp body and quickly examined her. “She’s ok, Jim. Just a little dazed.”

“Jim!” Sandra shouted. “I have an idea. Help me with this.” She was bent over one of the ten pound cannons, cutting one of the breech ropes with a bloodied dagger. “Your scimitar!” she shouted. His instinct was to help Alia, but they would all be dead if they didn’t move. Watching Sandra as she sawed the thick rope, it took him another second to figure out what she was trying to accomplish. A smile crept across his face.

Jim raised his scimitar above his head and brought it down on the rope with three hard blows. With a snap, the thick breech rope was cut and the heavy iron weapon broke free of its restraints.

The pair slowly pushed the cannon to the rear of the gundeck, against the aft wall and angled it at twenty degrees, as high as it would allow. Gunshots continued to crack from above and below. Holes in the wood cast tiny beams of light through the thickening smoke. One round buzzed by, inches from Jim’s head while another grazed Sandra’s right shoulder, eliciting a grunt through grit teeth.

Spurred on by their deteriorating situation, Jim moved quickly to pack a gunpowder charge into the breech followed by a round of explosive shot, specially designed for close quarters combat...normally against other ships of course.

He grabbed a nearby ramrod and pushed the canister down as far as it would go. Next, he ran through more gunfire from above and retrieved a burning piece of wood from Alia’s makeshift fiery barrier. He placed the glowing ember at the touch hole and braced for what came next.

Instantly, the deck was awash in smoke and fury.

Suddenly, the sounds of battle were replaced by a loud, high pitched ring. Sandra shouted something at him but, he couldn’t hear her. There was sound coming from her mouth, but it was as if his mind refused to translate the words. Shaking his head, he finally regained some focus. “Grab that guy!” she shouted, “I’ll get the girl.” He couldn’t seem to form words, so he just nodded in agreement.

Jim slung the unconscious man onto his shoulder. The stranger was thickly built - especially for a priest. The brainwashed followers of the Prophetess had little need for physical conditioning normally as their awakened abilities more than made up for anything as crude as brute force.

Owing either to her formidable build, the girl’s small form, or both, Sandra effortlessly threw the pale faced teen over her shoulder and sprinted off in the direction of the breach. A section of the topdeck had collapsed downward to form the semblance of a ramp. Vachir was the first to disappear up the hole, holding Alia as he did so. Sandra and Jim were hot on his heels.

Gunfire continued to pour out from below, boring more holes in the deck, followed by-

“Damnit,” Jim growled as a burning sensation worked its way up from the arch of his foot. Of all the places to be shot, he thought angrily. Limping the last few steps, he emerged onto the topdeck. All around, Alliance soldiers lay in various states of gore and carnage. The few who hadn’t been obliterated cried and groaned pitifully. The explosive round had done its bloody work quite well.

Jim continued his slow hobble across the topdeck. Loud footsteps echoed from behind him. The rapidly thickening smoke had flushed the third awakened priest and his Alliance henchmen out of their hole. “Drop!” came a familiar voice from across the deck. Alia had recovered from her temporary daze.

Without thinking, he rolled to the right, doing his best to protect the man on his shoulders from a head injury. A tearing sound and flash of red hot fire sailed above his head and exploded directly behind him. The priest and soldiers that had emerged were engulfed.

Jim could hear them screaming as they disappeared below. He didn’t know what was worse, the sounds of their agonized voices or that they continued on for some time as each one burned to death.

The blaze was quickly spreading. The entire forward topdeck was nearly engulfed. Below, new billows of smoke began to push out of the newly blasted cannon hole. The raging fire at the forward deck was turning into an unstoppable inferno as the first J-ropes began to burn.

The ship had only minutes left as a vessel of the sky. Soon, it would adorn the dunes below in a million pieces, taking Jim and the others down with it. But, as every captain knew, in Ruin, no amount of skill or experience could beat a little luck on your side. Fortune would again favor them today.

From the portside, small iron grapples soared over the railing and landed on the deck with loud thuds. Alia, who had recovered from her daze, rolled sideways as a nearby hook skipped backwards until it caught on the port railing. Dozens others did the same. Their attached ropes tightened. Jim turned to see their savior.

From the grey mist, a giant airship emerged. It was an absolute behemoth compared to the small vessel burning away beneath their feet. The black and red hull of the Liberator, their home in the sky, was clear against the backdrop of swirling clouds. Its twenty four gun portside was a welcome sight for Jim.

With renewed strength, he grabbed the still paralyzed priest under both arms and dragged him over to join the others.

Two large booms rattled their faltering airship. The sudden jerk snapped the forward J ropes, whipping them skyward and causing the vessel to list down sharply. The fire had reached the forward powder reserve.

“Hurry up with those harnesses!” Vachir shouted across the expanse. Seconds later, eight small bags landed on the deck. The team scrambled to retrieve and unpack them.

We won’t be needing that many bags, Jim thought, sadly. They would only be needing two for rescued awakened this day.

Within each bag was a rope mesh and dual clamps. Originally, the plan had been to disable the awakened onboard without setting off an alarm and bring them to the topdeck for retrieval. Once the Liberator descended to altitude, the group would retrieve the bags, harness the disabled priests and acolytes, and escape.

Things hadn’t gone exactly as planned. They rarely did.

Jim quickly removed the mesh and laid it out on the deck. Hopping on his good foot, he rolled the priest onto the purpose made tangle of ropes. Careful to cover the man’s full height, he tucked the corner of the mesh underneath his back and rolled him until the ropes formed a makeshift swaddle.

He couldn’t help but snicker inwardly at the sight. The man looked like a human sized fly, trapped in layers of webbing, waiting to be some lucky spider’s dinner. Next, he grabbed the clamp and fixed both ends to the web, and finally to the grapple rope. He sliced the thick rope at the base of the grapple, careful to avoid hitting the priest. The sudden loss of tension sent the tightly wrapped priest springing into the air before falling and dangling directly below the Liberator until someone could pull him up.

Jim suddenly remembered that the man had been paralyzed, not knocked out. He was probably watching the entire event in frozen horror. Not fond of heights himself, he couldn’t help but feel at least a little sorry for the poor soul.

“Move your ass, Jim!” Alia’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Already, Sandra had finished with the awakened girl. Jim spotted the acolyte’s tightly webbed body swaying from a rope, beneath the Liberator. It slowly ascended as the crew above hoisted her to safety.

Seeing his limp, Alia rushed to his side and placed his arm on her shoulder. Vachir and Sandra had already clamped onto their grapple ropes and were waiting with expressions of urgency. Smoke was pouring through every slat of deck plating, threatening to choke their lungs of air long before they burned to death. More J-ropes snapped. The airship tilted further downward as its balloon started to break free of the last of its restraints.

It was now or never.

Jim clamped the nearest grapple rope, which was already straining from the sudden increase in tension. With scimitars in hand, each of them quickly slashed at the bonds. Simultaneously, their bodies sprung upward. They were free from the falling airship. Free but not finished. A sudden explosion ripped through the air and catapulted the group horizontally. The fire had reached the powder reserves.

It was too powerful, too loud, too...everything for Jim. He didn’t have time to think. The blast knocked any sense of reason out of him and basic instinct took over. He was holding onto a small rope, suspended kilometers above the ground, with nothing but a small rusty clamp. There was no figuring his way out of this one. He knew, all he could do was maintain a white knuckled death grip and hope for the best.

The blast pressure slammed into their bodies like an invisible brick wall. Suddenly, they were swinging downward at a frightening speed. Before any of them could react, their bodies had passed underneath the hull of the Liberator and were bleeding off velocity… upwards.

Much like a tetherball, their ropes were losing length quickly. They weren’t circling a small pole but rather, an enormous airship. Jim found himself suddenly upside down and sailing, ass first, toward the topdeck as his body continued to shed speed. He supposed being smashed to a pulp on the deck of his home in the sky was better than falling to the dunes.

Death would wait. With a loud oof escaping his lips, Jim’s body slammed into the J-ropes of their airship. Very suddenly, he was upside down, hanging by his legs in one of the large rope nets that held the Liberator’s balloon above the hull.

Turning, he spotted the other three in similar situations. Each hung in a very undignified way, helpless until someone could ascend the ladder and untangle them. They all looked as confused as he was.

Yep. Just another day in the life of a revolutionary, Jim thought with a sigh.