~~~~~~
The Andromeda sat where he had left it. Jack had never felt so grateful to see his flyer.
“If this doesn’t work out, we’re going to be out our pensions,” muttered Wiggles.
“At this point, I don’t think it matters, Wig. If we don’t save Nodlon and Moab from whoever chipped the Proconsul, I don’t think there will be any pensions to save.”
“You’re probably right, old man.”
“What about us?” asked Shotgun. “What will we do?”
“We’ll get you out of it,” said Gumshoe. “There’s an answer. There always is.”
“The way is clear for the next few minutes,” said Wiggles. “Get out of Moab. Head for the mines. There’s no way anyone can find you there. Call me in about two hours. If you can’t raise me, call Gumshoe. By then, we can get you into our witness protection program. Not even the Proconsul will know where you are.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Jack.
“Don’t know,” grumbled Wiggles. “It’s a coup. The Proconsul’s not in her right mind. She isn’t the kind to assassinate a person for mere suspicion. I’ll just have to find out who I can trust. Good luck to you boys.”
“Good luck Jack,” said Gumshoe.
Jack looked back at the detective. “Luck to you too, old-timer.” The flyer beeped as he fingered the remote. The Andromeda’s hatches opened. “Good luck to you, Wiggles,” he said. “I’ve got a feeling we’re all going to need it.”
Jack and Shotgun climbed into the Andromeda and buckled their harnesses.
“Please get us out of this,” said Shotgun. “I want to see my girls again.”
“We’re on it,” said Wiggles.
“Don’t you boys worry about a thing,” said Gumshoe. He stepped aside and threw back his trench coat.
Jack fired up the Andromeda and the hatches closed. He disabled the autopilot, switched the navigation system off, and cut off the inboard caster. He waved at the detectives. He set the levitators on ground effect, and sped towards the exit.
Escape from Moab
“Good thing, we’re in an unmarked vehicle.” Shotgun pointed to Jack’s logo on the Andromeda’s hood.
“What?!” Jack mocked the dwarf with twinkle in his eye. “A luxury flyer with my corporate logo on all sides isn’t inconspicuous enough for you?”
He steered the Andromeda out of the parking garage, and put her in flight mode. The Andromeda rose over the traffic. No one on the ground stared or pointed. Perhaps the word had not yet reached everyone.
“No, we need a racing flyer covered with the Major Manna logo and decked out with bling lights. Really, we might be better off stealing a moving van.”
“If they weren’t all taken by evacuees, I might agree with you. As it happens, families need all the moving vans to flee Nodlon.” He waved at the crowd of molemen on the street below. Women and children scurried to and fro helping their husbands and fathers loading their family’s belongings. “We’re not actually criminals though we stand accused. So we can’t go stealing vans when others need them.”
“Yeah, boss, we can just be chivalrous and get killed.”
“I wouldn’t be so concerned,” said Jack. “But I don’t understand how the Black Dwarf chipped the Proconsul!”
“However he did it,” said Shotgun. “It’s done. She can’t violate the chip’s programming. I can pretty much do what I want because Biot Staffing has my chip set to nothing more than monitoring and tracking. How safe are we if the Black Dwarf controls our leaders?”
“Speaking of it, can they use your chip to find us?”
“Yeah, they can track me if we’re within the reception distance of a telecom station. But who cares? They can track us with our casters. For that matter, if they wise up, they can track the Andromeda. The flyer is registered to you. Putting her in manual simply takes us off the optimization board. Flight control can still track us.”
“Thanks for the technical analysis. How long do we have before they’re on to us?”
“If Wiggles and Willoughby can give us a diversion, we might have time get out of range. Who knows? Until someone wakes up and tries to track us manually, we’re safe enough. If they don’t check, they can’t find us.”
“What if they check?”
“In that case, they’ll know. Our casters are on the board even when they’re off. They’ll call Biot Staffing, and the agency will finger me.”
“Maybe we can get some help. Put a denial on Claynet. Say the Proconsul is mistaken. She’s been duped by Martian sympathizers, but don’t call her a liar. The bad guy can never complain, even if it’s the truth.”
“I’m on it,” Shotgun pulled his laptop out of his backpack. “Boss!” A police van blocked the street. “Road block!”
“I see it.” Jack rounded the corner. He drove slowly over a convoy of moving vans pulling out of the hospital’s loading docks. A police van pulled in front of them.
“There’s another one! Are all the streets blocked?” Jack turned again. Suppressing his worry, he turned again in search of a clear direction. Studying the traffic, he wondered if he could find a way to run one of the road blocks. Slowing, he checked the next street leading away from the hospital.
“No road block.” Jack pushed the flyer down the street two stories over the road.
“It’s an ambush. They left this one free. They’ll shoot us when we try to escape.”
“Optimist,” quipped Jack. He gunned the flyer through an intersection.
“Moab police! They’re on both sides!” The Moab Surete cruisers lit their emergency lights and their sirens. “They’re following us.”
“Thanks Shotgun. I’ve got that one figured out. They’re in front of us too.”
“Oh boy, what will we do?”
“Stop and hope they don’t shoot us.” Slowing down, he set the flyer in the only clear spot on the street. He powered down the Andromeda, and set it to standby to keep the manna generator warm. Opening the doors, Jack unbuckled his harness and climbed out of the flyer. Shotgun followed suit.
They walked to the front of the flyer and put up their hands. Moab police cruisers, interceptors, vans, and riot police wagons surrounded the flyer.
Moab policemen leapt from the vans, but they showed no signs of enthusiasm. Leisurely, the officers began setting up a perimeter. An athletic moleman approached them.
“Lieutenant Wobbly at your service,” said the commander. “I’m your sled dog. Please keep your hands up for the cameras while I commandeer a building here.” He checked his tablet and made a decision.
Wobbly led them to a tired office not far away. Two officers fell in behind. “Guard the door until I call for you.” The officers saluted and stood guard on the front.
The entrance opened for Wobbly and his detainees, and they walked into a wide hall. Offices faced the long hall. A directory listed accountants and an advertising firm. Their footfalls echoed down the corridor.
“Willoughby put out the word. Someone chipped the Proconsul.”
“It’s a coup,” said Jack. “What are you going to do?”
“Don’t know. I’ve been a cop for eleven years and I’ve never seen anything like this. The Surete is in disarray. The Proconsul declared martial law just minutes ago. Commissioner Warden ordered us to handle only priority calls. We’re to assist evacuees and maintain order, but we’re to shoot looters and rioters on sight. Regardless, the Proconsul’s orders are unlawful. She has no authority with a chip in her head.”
“Thank you lieutenant,” said Jack. “Accusing innocent citizens of kidnapping children and attempting mass murder without proof is certainly unlawful. Putting out a bounty on heads and threatening our lives is beyond the pale. I’ve met Agatha before. She would never agree to such a thing.”
“Agreed, someone forced her to take the chip.”
“The Black Dwarf kidnapped those children from Beslan,” Jack complained. “Wiggles and Gumsho
e know it. We were with them at Moab Charity when the Black Dwarf murdered those boys. We don’t know where he’s hiding, but we have to find him before more people get hurt.”
“I gathered the situation was along those lines,” said Wobbly. “Moab’s situation is dire when our chief elected official cannot tell friend from foe.”
“What next, Lieutenant? Wiggles suggested we lay low, but I’m not keen to be a fugitive from the law.”
“For now Mr. Clay, you need to make for the mines. I’m sorry I can’t give you any better advice, but we’re going to need a few hours to determine what to do.”
“Wobbly,” said Jack. “The children and staff mesmerized by the Black Dwarf at Beslan recovered after they were stunned. Maybe the Proconsul’s mind will return once she’s been stunned. Set all your weapons to stun. Don’t forget that.”
“Can’t believe I’m hearing this, but that’s good to know. I won’t forget it. We live in strange times.”
“We do indeed Wobbly. Now, how do we get out of here?”
The lieutenant flicked his tablet, and showed it to Jack. “Here’s the floor plan for this building. This office connects to the next one and you can exit there. That will allow us to create a diversion. I assume you can handle it from there?”
“Thanks,” said Jack studying the floor plan. “I think we can handle it.”
“How much time do you need?” Wobbly closed his tablet.
“Seconds, if you’re not shooting at us.”
“We’ll let you have fifteen minutes at least.” Wobbly winked and gave Jack a thumb up. “Go,” he said. He left them and barked a few orders. Molemen began running and shouting.
Jack and Shotgun jogged down the hall.
Jack opened the rear door and peeked out. There was a flight of stairs. No one was about. He held the door for Shotgun, “Carpe diem.” Jack filled the hall behind them with an illusion of smoke and plunged down the steps.
At the bottom, they reversed their direction and doubled back.
Again, Jack cast a smoke screen to delay pursuit. They ran up a short flight of stairs and burst into a hall identical to the one they had just left. A moleman in a business suit glanced at them nervously, and stepped into a lift.
Calmly, Jack strode through a set of double doors. Below them was the street. Traffic crawled. Police vehicles jammed all but one lane. A pair of officers directed traffic. Other officers waved furiously at the onlookers and tried to maintain order.
Mole women and children watched the excitement from their windows. A crowd loitered around the scene. They milled about the police tape. Young and old alike strained to see.
The Andromeda was hardly visible. But she glittered in the warm yellow light of Moab. A crowd swirled on the street, and drab police vans surrounded the sporty flyer.
“She looks ready to go,” said Jack. “There’s no boots on her levitators.”
“Any ideas, boss?”
“Yeah, we need the right moment.”
Wobbly appeared on the landing of the office next to them. He whispered to one of the guards, and they reacted immediately. They whistled and shouted.
True to the Lieutenant’s word, troops flowed up the stairs into the office. Officers ran to and fro generating a scene of chaos. More officers ran into the alley to cut off the fugitives’ escape route.
Two officers gave them a friendly wave as they passed by. They darted into an alley not twenty feet from where the fugitives stood.
He glanced at Shotgun. “Good to have friends in high places.”
“Jack Clay has left the building,” Shotgun muttered.
A consummate performer, Jack watched for the right moment to distract the crowd. When all the officers had left the vicinity except those directing traffic, Jack stepped forward. He cast a fog spell over the street. Fog filled the air. As the crowd lost sight of the police officers, nervous cries erupted.
Someone shouted, “Run for your lives.” The street broke into pandemonium.
“Now,” Jack gently squeezed Shotgun’s arm. Down the steps they ran. They dodged molemen and passed vehicles in the fog.
He tripped on the curb, and a truck broke his fall. Inside the truck, a dog barked.
“Where is she?” Shotgun cried.
“Around here somewhere,” Jack shot back. “She is white you know.” He reached into his pocket and searched for his remote.
In the distance, officers shouted all around them, “Get him!” and “There he is!” Molemen ran to and fro, and many boots slapped the pavement, but he saw no one in his magical fog.
A frightened baby started crying. It’ll be all right, kid. Jack forgot his own panic It will or my name isn’t Jack Clay.
“Boss, where are you?”
“Over here, Shotgun.” He found his remote and pressed the lock button. The flyer beeped behind him, and he realized he had passed it.
Molemen and women shouted and cried. Fear and tension pressed him.
“It’s behind us, Shotgun.” He pressed the button again. The flyer beeped. “Go for the beeps.”
“Found it, boss! Hurry up!”
They hopped in. Jack switched to instruments, and his head’s up display flashed. A schematic of everything casting a radar reflection appeared on his windshield.
Seeing nothing in their way, Jack fired up his flyer and lifted off into the thick fog. Thinking only of a diversion, he cast an illusion. Bright flashes startled passersby. Thunder cracked over the street, and the crowd dispersed.
“Hope no one gets hurt,” Jack said.
“Can’t be any worse than when your shows sell out.”
Shotgun’s quip reassured him. He suppressed his fear of hitting a bird or a sign, and shoved the flyer’s joystick forward. Manna saturated the levitators, and the flyer gunned down the street.
“Warning, restricted zone!” Andromeda’s console lit up and a pretty young elf wagged a finger at him from the dash. “Use ground effect in residential tunnels. If you need assistance, say ‘Auto-pilot’ and I will assume control…”
Shotgun stabbed the override and shut her off. “Thank God, you’re rich. Hate to try getting away in a Cloud Nine.”
“Money still has some privileges.”
Still fearing an abrupt end to their escape, he steered the flyer out of his fog. He checked his rearview mirror. There was no pursuit.
“We won’t have long. We’re breaking every traffic law in Moab.”
Watching the artificial clouds on the tunnel ceiling flash by, Shotgun gripped the scream bars and his knuckles whitened. “One good thing about flying, if anything goes wrong we may be killed outright. No long, lingering death.”
“Yes that would spare us the trouble of saving Nodlon.”
“Not bad for a day’s work. Now you’ve reduced us from celebrities to notorious public enemies on the lam.”
“Chin up, Shotgun. I suppose I should have foreseen this. No good deed goes unpunished.”
“Maybe I can turn you in for the reward or time off for …”
Jack twisted the joystick, and the flyer rolled. They dove into another tunnel. He pulled on the stick and threw them against their harnesses.
“Where did you get your license?” Shotgun gripped his scream bar.
“There’s always a silver lining even if we don’t see it at the moment.”
“I hope the girls are all right.”
“Me too, Shotgun, me too.”
The ceiling lights whipped by. He wove a path through the tunnel to avoid signs and cables.
“Where are we going?” Shotgun’s grip slipped.
“Down,” said Jack. “There’s nowhere left. Remember the hole we found in the sewer? It’s the only thing we’ve found out of place. It has to be an answer to a mystery.” He dipped under a laundry line. The line twirled, and clothes flew into the air.
“Sure boss, but which mystery?”
They floated in their seats as they lunged
passed an advertising banner.
“I don’t know which mystery, but I’ll take any answers right now.” He grinned. “I need to cross something off my list to satisfy my latent neuroses.”
“I’ve got all the mystery I need. We’re looking for a Black Dwarf who murders dwarf girls. What more can you want? What if we find Noddie?”
“Sticking to your bright side, Shotgun,” Jack chuckled. “We’ll be famous for finding Noddie. I can see it now. They’ll welcome home the great adventurers who discovered the lake monster of deepest Nodlon. They’ll call our show Mysterious Nodlon. They’ll air it every Friday night during the creature feature hour.”
He rolled the flyer to avoid a high load. The hard roll threw them against their harnesses again.
“We can get Dick Mackey to narrate,” said Jack. He lowered his voice and imitated the famous narrator. “‘Go with us as we plunge fearlessly into the mysteries of Nodlon. Explore long forgotten ancient sites in search of ghosts, mysteries, and crypto-zoological creatures. Tonight, we present the discovery of Noddie.’”
“I beg to differ, my short-sighted supervisor. How will we make a vid if a ravenous sea-going reptile eats us? Noddie’s holed up in Nodlon’s underbelly for who knows how long? Who knows when she last ate? Maybe she’s starving. Explaining mysteries has no appeal when you’re the meal! Hey that rhymes!”
“Not to fear, my poet laureate. If Noddie tries eating us, I’ll stun her with a brilliant display of magic, illusion, and thespian performance never before seen in the sewers of Nodlon!” He slid the flyer under a level-way, and turned up Southlake Boulevard.
“Never seen again you mean.”
He dived under a grocery sign. “No one’s in pursuit.”
“An apt assessment, my humble knave,” Jack slid the flyer off the boulevard and onto Harbor road. “Let’s try going through the port, it’s only a block.”
“At this speed, we’ll never dodge a boat mast!”
He checked his instrument panel. All alarms were silenced. “Our radar will give us a heads up.” Thumbing the controls, he flipped the collision warning on. He flew over the Strand, over the Marina gate, and over the port of Moab. The flyer roared into the port, and whipped up a whirlwind around the dome. The wind blew towels off the startled bathers on the south shore. The wind tossed drinks off tables and sent tourists running for cover. He pulled up to miss the boat masts, and rolled the flyer to miss the cranes. He dove into the Great River’s tunnel and vanished upstream. Boats rocked as sails fluttered in his wake.
“Call our sewer buddy,” he said.
Shotgun fumbled briefly with his caster, and the device hummed and buzzed. “Let me guess, you want to know how to get into the sewers?”
“Wow, you read my mind.”
“Easy enough, you’re so predictable.”
“Ah, but I’m smart enough to hire you!”
A black dwarf woman appeared on the caster’s little vid screen. “Hello, may I help you?” A baby fussed in the background.
“Is Niles there?”
“May I say whose calling?”
“Shotgun, and tell him it’s urgent please.”
“Oh, yes sir. He told me all about you. He was so excited.” In the background, they heard the baby crying. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll go get him.” A door opened and closed, and they heard a call. “Honey, the cast is for you. It’s Shotgun and Mr. Clay.”
The screen brightened and the sanitation engineer beamed at them.
“Hi Shotgun, you and your boss are all over the news.”
“Don’t believe a word of it, Niles,” said Shotgun. “We have an iron clad alibi. We think our chief suspect is controlling the Proconsul mind. She’s been chipped. Don’t believe anything she says.”
“Don’t worry my brother from another mother, I don’t believe lies.” Niles tapped the black chip on his forehead, “Everyone knows someone chipped the Proconsul. It’s all over Mercury News. Chesterton said she’s got no authority. He called her allegations poppycock.
“Chesterton said high level officials in Moab and Nodlon Yard know you two were helping the police at the time of the crimes
“Princess Virginia said she supports you, and promised her father will look into it. I haven’t been to Clay-net yet, but I bet Mr. Clay’s popularity has never been higher.”
“Thanks Niles. That’s great news.”
“How can I help?”
“We’re flying up the prime tunnel. We’re looking for a way to reach the sewer terminus where you found the girl.”
“Easy,” Niles said. “Where’re you at now?”
“We just passed Turtle Creek, the next waterfront is Riverwalk.”
“Good, stay in the prime tunnel. It’s easy. Follow the cloud lamps. Tributaries have ordinary overhead street lamps and look like a level-way with water. The river will fork a number of times. Simply veer left each time the prime tunnel forks. Just follow it to the end.”
Flying over a white yacht at speed, they startled an elderly couple sailing down the river. Jack hugged the ceiling and rolled the flyer.
“The Great River is the city’s water supply, and the sewer is the drain.” Niles narrated their journey, as though giving a lesson to school children. “The two connect only at the headwaters of each tributary. Blueberry Lake feeds the southernmost tributary. Go up to the end and you will see boat locks and an aeration chute. Flyers can’t go up the locks. Fly up the chute.
“At the top is the Snow Water plant. Go over the plant with the lake on your right. You’re looking for a ventilation shaft just beyond the sediment traps. Just fly down it. The hole is at the bottom of the shaft. Be careful not to fly through the waterfall, it’s been disinfected but it’s not drinkable,” Niles paused. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“Niles, do you know anything about the hole?”
“Yes, Mr. Clay. Officially, the hole is an Oversized Structural Breach of Unknown Cause, but we call them Noddie holes. Wall one up, and another one appears. There’s always several open at any one time.”
“Has anyone tried exploring them?”
“Oh sure, lots of times,” Niles grinned, pleased to help. “They always end at a ventilation shaft. The shafts run straight down for miles all the way to the mines.”
“If the holes always run to the ventilation shafts, why hasn’t anyone seen anything?”
“No mystery there. Since Good Queen Henrietta gave Moab its independence, Moab controls the mines. They mine gold, copper, iron, and manna down there, and they don’t want anyone stealing ore. No one explores the mines without authorization. Prospecting teams go in, but it’s hush, hush. Only tightlipped geologists allowed. If you’re not a rock hound, you can forget it.”
“But there are tales,” said Shotgun. “Some of those rock hounds must talk.”
“Claim jumpers, you mean. Unauthorized prospectors explore the abandoned mines and poach ore. I know a few of them. They hang out at the wharf when they’re not in the Blues District. They go down there to poach ore. Some come back with strange tales. Some don’t come back at all.”
“Any theories on what causes the holes, Niles?”
“Oh yeah,” Niles chuckled. “Anyone who asks will be told water seeps cause the holes. Hydraulic pressure builds up and the walls burst outward.”
“Sounds plausible, Niles, doesn’t that explain the hole mystery? Pun not intended.”
“No way,” Niles blew off the suggestion. “Miners sank the ventilation shafts away from the aquifer. Where the shafts run through groundwater, it’s shunted to the river. The holes always run from a mine shaft to the sewer. The holes never pass through the aquifer.”
“What then causes the holes?”
“Noddie. Don’t forget, when a tunnel fails, groundwater and mud floods the tunnel, and the Earth behind the hole collapses. Tunnel failures are rare, and they hit all levels. It’s a disaster, and people die. Any engineer responsible for a tunnel collapse
will wind up on the street crew collecting garbage.
“Noddie holes are clean, neat almost; and they’re always in places where people won’t get hurt – at least not by accident. No sanitation worker has ever been hurt near a hole, in a hole, or inspecting a hole. Nobody loses his job. No engineer pays for a hole, no matter how many times we patch it. Think about it.”
A waterfall appeared at the end of the tunnel. “Thanks, Niles,” said Shotgun. “I think we’re here.”
“Good luck.” Niles signed off.
Noddie
The aeration chute and the boat locks matched Nile’s description. Water cascaded down a wide series of terraces before falling into a pool large enough to allow two yachts to pass.
A fish ladder separated the waterfall from two boat locks. An engraving above the unnatural headwaters memorialized a forgotten dignitary. Hawks fished the ladder.
Designed for form and function, the locks unmistakably resembled a pair of lifts. As if to demonstrate, a lock slid open as the flyer entered the chamber.
A small schooner sailed into the pool. It’s mast and yardarms were lashed down. An elderly yachtsman manned the helm.
Jack jerked the joystick, and the Andromeda heeled. Levitators hummed and the manna core surged as he swerved to avoid a collision. The weekend mariner ducked.
Thank you for stowing your mast old timer.
Blue sky appeared above the lip of the waterfall. He pushed the flyer up the chute. The manna generator purred. The levitators twisted the bonds of space. The overpowered playboy toy flew up the chute and over the waterfall.
The flyer shot out of the chute. Their shadow flitted across the lake.Nodlon’s elite bathed on the lakeshore in the pleasant spring weather. Interrupted from their work, hired sailors looked up. Bathers grabbed their towels and children shrieked and pointed.
The levitators kicked up a mist. The geyser blew over the lake and sprayed a hawk. Water sparkled in the mid-afternoon sun. The sun cast rainbows onto the locks.
He wheeled over Blueberry Lake and glimpsed a magnificent view of the Balmhorn.
“There’s the shaft, boss.”
“Yep, let’s go.”
He rolled the flyer and the levitators roared. And they dove into the shaft. Momentarily blinded, he slowed to a hover. He let his vision adjust. Then, he gently released the stick, and they dropped slowly into the darkness.
They hung from their harnesses. Sensing the failing light, the headlamps flooded the shaft and the beams disappeared into the void. His heads-up display dimmed. Faint graphics depicted a rectangular point of perspective. Nodlon’s original builders spared no limit on their imagination of her public spaces. But the vent reminded Jack of his parking garage without the comfort of pavement to set the flyer in ground mode.
Their ears popped.
A concrete floor appeared in his headlamps. He leveled off the flyer. The beams flashed off a little pond at the bottom of the terminus, spread across the wall, and filled the cavern with light. He swiveled the flyer and splashed his headlights over the brick mound and into the Noddie hole.
Jack studied his instruments. “It’s a tight squeeze.”
“Can’t stay here boss, and we can’t go down the mine shaft without Andromeda.”
“Desperation is the mother of simplifying choices,” said Jack. He guided the flyer over the mound of bricks, and eased her into the mouth of the hole. He hoped nothing would scratch the flyer. The cave rose for several yards and then dipped into the dark. He drove the flyer up the hole.
“Danger!” cried the flyer, “Collision imminent!” Shotgun jabbed the flyer’s mute button.
As the cave dipped, Jack overcorrected and scraped the floor. “That’ll cost.”
Over the rise, the cave widened, and the floor smoothed out.
“Niles wasn’t kidding,” said Shotgun. “This is no accidental cave.”
For a hundred yards the cave ran nearly straight. It fell gently towards the root of the mountain. He let the flyer slide down the cave in ground effect, and avoided scratching the flyer. They passed a fork, and the slope dipped. The cave wove a twist and a turn, and they passed a few intersections.
“Not as straight as I thought. If we run into Noddie, I’m not sure how to get out of this place.”
“Don’t look at me, boss, I’ll just be screaming.”
The cave ended in an inky black shaft. They had not expected light in Noddie’s cave, but never before had they seen a man-made shaft missing the blue light of Nodlon. Even in the sewers, Nodlon’s blue lights cast a reassuring glow, but the darkness in the shaft was unexpected.
Sliding to the edge of the precipice, the beams illuminated a chimney of impressive proportions. Forty yards from where they sat, the beams barely reflected off the rock. Above and below them, the glow of the headlamps vanished.
“It’s darker here than in the sewer’s ventilation shaft,” said Shotgun. “I’ve never seen anything this black. There’s no light at all.”
“Yeah, I don’t think this is an ordinary vent shaft.” He lifted the flyer into the air, and they soared into empty space.
The instrument flight graphics broke into a puzzling scatter.
“What the heck?” He fiddled with the controls. “Everything’s gone haywire.”
Shotgun tapped on the menu and checked the settings. “Technically, it’s working. There must be a field interfering with the radar.”
“We’ll have to fly by sight then.” Jack twisted the stick and tipped the flyer.
They stared into the shaft. Scattered points of lights danced across his windshield. “Shotgun, I don’t think this is a ventilation shaft.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right.”
He adjusted his display and tried to clear the static. “Nothing, it’s no use.” He dimmed the display and brightened his exterior lights.
The beams reflected the dust in the gloom. The eerie swirls reminded Jack of deep ocean water. He pointed their nose into the chimney, and dropped into the pit.
An uncomfortable pang of fear ran down his back. Steady Jack, you’re a magical elf. He checked the tension of his harness for reassurance. The flyer fell slowly, and the engine purred.
“Is there anything you can do with the radar?” he asked.
Shotgun fiddled with the controls, and slapped the dash, “Nothing but static boss.”
The flyer dropped into the shaft. A hush fell over the mage and his dwarf.
“Deeper than I expected, boss, how far down can this go?”
“How far have we dropped?” Jack tapped the altimeter, “I’m reading zero, and we have no radar.
Shotgun fidgeted with the weather panel. “Using pressure, I’m guessing we’re over a mile below Nodlon.”
“There has to be a bottom somewhere. The ancients mined the roots of the mountains. We’re not going straight down. The shaft is deviating. Maybe we will level off.”
The beams bounced off a dull grey object.
“Something down there.”
“Yes, I see it,” Jack switched the heads-up display back on. Pixels raced over his windshield and blinded him. He flipped the device off. “No depth perception, I can’t tell how far it is.”
Shotgun muttered something he did not hear clearly, but he was sure he shared the thought.
The reflection flickered. “Did you see that? There! What was it?” Shotgun flinched, and gripped the scream bars. He shoved the floorboards and rocked the flyer. The latches on his harness jingled.
“Shotgun!” Jack popped the stick, and the flyer jerked to a stop.
“I saw something!”
Sweat beaded on his forehead. His pulse raced, and it warned him not to panic. He checked his instruments. Nothing seemed amiss other than the radar and the navigation displays.
“Peace, Shotgun, peace! It’s just a trick of the light. There’s nothing down there. We’re pouring enough light down this shaft to illuminate the moon. If any
thing was down there, we’d see it.”
“I’m not worried about anything. I’m worried about Noddie! She’s a sixty foot long, flying sea-monster!”
“Yeah, but we don’t know if Noddie is dangerous. She probably eats fish.”
“Great! Newsflash, boss! You can play a crypto-zoology expert on late-night audio feeds! But I know you’re not a biologist. For all you know, Noddie eats dwarves!”
“True, Shotgun,” Jack chuckled, “but Noddie might eat magicians too! All I know is what I’ve read. Until there’s more information we can’t lose our heads.”
Shotgun clinched the scream bars. He breathed deeply a few times and released his grip. “Sorry boss, I think I’ve got it now.”
“No problem,” he said. Stay with me Shotgun! If you panic, I’m right behind you!
Holding the joystick carefully, he released his death grip. He flexed his fingers until he felt blood flow. Then he wiped his palms on his breeches.
“No worries Shotgun.” He affected a bright mood. Just between me, myself, and I, an emotional outburst is just what we needed. The rush woke me up. No more sleepy head. Let the tension go. He missed his morning coffee, and Shotgun’s raspberry tarts.
He pushed the joystick and descended into the shaft. The reflection grew in his headlights. First without form, the reflection took on shape as they approached. Across the shaft’s throat lay a concrete bowl tipped half over. The bowl resembled an overturned punch bowl with a melon in place of a base. Ribs ran from the melon to the shaft walls. Rubble littered over the bowl spoke of long, deferred maintenance.
“See Shotgun, it was only moving shadows. The headlights reflected off this structure and the shadows moved.” Jack studied the structure. He tried to make sense of the shape without success. “Any ideas what it is?”
“No,” Shotgun relaxed and let go of the scream bars. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Jack spun the flyer, and panned his lights over the bowl and the chimney. Between each rib was a tunnel. Clouds of dust swirled in the tunnels forming wavy patterns. He had an uneasy fear.
“Why is there so much dust?”
“It’s a draft? What else? Air must move around down here as the weather changes.”
“Yeah maybe,” scoffed Shotgun. “Maybe Noddie stirred up the dust.”
Jack shivered. He aimed the flyer towards the main shaft, “We’ve got no radar, and I don’t want to scratch my baby in the smaller tunnels.”
They sailed over the bowl’s ribs, tipped over the lip of the bowl, and dipped into the gloom. The shaft fell eastward at a steep angle. The shaft was nearly the same diameter as the chimney. The shallower angle was a relief. Jack pushed on the floorboard and relieved some of the tension on his harness.
“This way, Shotgun, let’s stick to the main tunnel.”
Any floor at all helped him focus on his speed and direction. Light reflected off the rock, and he edged the nose towards the shaft.
“Don’t want to get lost down here either boss. We’ve got no mapping without the system.”
“We’ll have to make do.”
They resumed their descent, and flew for a few hundred yards. The sharp angle of the wall curved, and became a steep floor. Stalactites hung from the ceiling and walls. Crystals with hard edges and sharp corners decorated the tunnels walls. The steep floor was covered with rounded stones.
“Look boss, there’s no stalagmites on the floor.”
“Erosion, it’s just water from the occasional rain over the mountain.”
“Down here, boss?” Shotgun shook his head, and squeezed the scream bars.
Hanging from his harness reminded him of parasailing. He tugged his harness. On a trip to the Bermuda Triangle he had parasailed with Korman. His director was thrilled, but he failed to see the point. Korman had reminded him that most people cannot fly. Keep our home fires burning buddy and stay safe.
The tunnel was still steep, but not quite as much. He doubted he could land. Only a few rounded stones protruded randomly from the floor. No ledges, ridges, nor escarpments offered a purchase to aid a climber or to slow his descent. Once in motion, anyone falling down the shaft would slide until he reached the bottom, if there was one.
Farther down, the shaft broadened into a cavern with three forks. The forks dropped into the darkness and turned away in shallow curves. Light reflected from hard rock and glittered off the crystals. The headlight beams faded into the murky dark.
“Which way, Shotgun? Want to flip a coin?”
“Perhaps we can cast lots?”
“Yeah, or I can make a command decision.” He pushed the joystick gently towards the central shaft. “Let’s try the middle route. If it worked for Goldilocks, maybe it’ll work for us.” They crept into the intersection, over the ribs, and into the central shaft. He nosed the flyer into the shaft’s maw.
The headlamps caught a red swirl around the shaft.
“Noddie!” yelped Shotgun.
He jerked on the joystick. Automatically, the rear lights flashed, illuminating a rock face on the rearview monitor. Moving fast, the flyer rammed the rock. The abrupt halt jolted them. They sank into their seats, and then bounced off the overstuffed leather. The impact crushed the back end and doused the rear lights. The rearview monitor blinked and went black.
The flyer bounced forward. He gripped the joystick with both hands and tried to steady the flyer. The levitators responded to his command, and whirred. The engine growled, and the flyer stopped.
An eerie quiet saturated the cockpit. Only the purr of the generator broke the silence.
The dragon filled the shaft. Her underbelly blocked their way, and her tail disappeared down the shaft and vanished into the dark. Orange ridges on her underbelly filled the flyer’s windshield. The dragon filled every window. Red scales tipped with gold covered her in an armor of knives. Dorsal spines rippled along her serpentine form.
She stared at them, and they stared back.
Jack relaxed. “On the bright side, Shotgun, we’ve found Noddie.”
“No late-night audio shows for you,” said Shotgun, “if she eats us tonight!”
Perhaps Noddie understood and took offense. She snapped up the flyer, and her forepaw flashed. Red armor covered the top. The golden tips sparkled in the flyer’s high beams.
The beast’s claw spanned the flyer. The sole pressed the moon roof. Foot long nails slaked the windows. Scales scratched the metal.
Pressing hard, her nails pierced the windshield. Glass cracked into starbursts. The claw pierced the hood and tore the sheet metal. Only the flyer’s instrument panel lit the cockpit. The dragon flexed her claw and glass burst. Bits of aviation glass showered them.
The beast threw the flyer. Suddenly weightless, Jack’s stomach leapt. “Hang on, Shotgun!”
“What do you think I’m doing?”
Air blew through the shattered windows. The rollercoaster ride lasted an eternity.
Jack grabbed his scream bar.
The Andromeda slammed into the shaft floor, and they came to a gut wrenching stop.
The engine died. Glass rattled on metal. Plastic moldings shattered. The moon roof burst and showered them with more glass. The shock threw them against the harnesses. His harness bit him.Lights went out, and darkness blinded them once again.
Sheet metal snapped. The dragon’s hook popped the hood. She scratched the flyer’s side, and then the dragon lifted her weight off the flyer. The roll bar groaned in metallic relief. The claw withdrew into the dark.
The flyer’s shattered body slipped on the steep floor. Air blew through the windshield frame and threw glass and dirt into their faces.
They slid down the shaft into the dark. We’ll fall into the abyss!
The dragon’s scales scraped the walls.
Recovering, he cast a telekinetic anchor to stop their descent. He poured all his effort into stopping their slide. The machine hit a ledge and rolled. They were catapulte
d against the ceiling, bounced off and hit the floor. The Andromeda slid faster. I can’t stop it, we’ve got to get out.
A slithering sound filled the tunnel. Stones rolled down the shaft. Pebbles clattered against the flyer. Sand slid past the flyer and more stones smacked each other. A claw slammed the flyer into the floor, and the flyer jerked. They stopped.
The dragon scrambled up the shaft. Her scales scraped the shaft, and she slithered away.
Stunned, Jack braced for a strike. He breathed, and tried to think. He cast a shield around the flyer.
A jet of fire shot over the flyer. The blast illuminated the shaft, and was gone.
Noddie shouted, “Beware the dragon!” The throaty shout rumbled down the shaft and echoed off the walls. “Go away!” The hoarse roar made him cringe.
The dragon scrambled up the shaft, and falling rock added to the racket.
The shaft was quiet. Miles below Nodlon, he sat in darkness in his dead flyer. She’s totaled! She’ll never fly again! He waited, not daring to move for fear of falling. Discretion is the better part of valor old man.
He restored his perspective. They were alive, and he was still magical. If I have to, I can levitate us out of the mines. The thought reassured him. Good!
“Shotgun,” he whispered. Blind in the dark, he touched his face. He could not see his fingers. “Shotgun?” Resisting panic, he felt for his friend. Slumped over, Shotgun dangled from his harness. Can I risk a bit of light?
He shook the little dwarf gently. Again, he shook a little harder. “Shotgun, wake up, buddy,” Wake up, buddy! Wake up, dagnabbit! “No dying on the job!”
Risking a light, he cast a blue ball of cool flame. The ball of magically created light was the basis of all his illusions. It was one of his simplest and oldest tricks. He put the ball over the dashboard and attended to his dwarf. Where is the first aid kit? Did I ask you to pack it?
He clutched the dwarf’s harness. He hoped the clasps held. If Shotgun fell, the jolt might plunge the Andromeda into the abyss and take them with it.
He felt a breath. He looked up, and sighed in relief. Softly he patted the dwarf’s cheeks. Shotgun moaned, and slumped farther over. Jack struggled awkwardly trying to hold him upright. To get a better purchase, he levitated the dwarf.
He released the latches on his harness. He steadied himself with a foot pressed against the flyer’s floor. With both hands free, he adjusted the dwarf’s position. He levitated the dwarf to relieve the pressure on his lungs. “Breathe friend, breathe!”
The dwarf’s spirit returned, “Did she eat us?”
“No,” Jack whispered. He hoped the dragon was not waiting in ambush. “No, we’re still in the shaft.”
“Where is she?”
“Up the shaft.”
“She threw us down the hole then?”
“She caught us.” Jack paused. He thought about the encounter. “My anchor wasn’t strong enough. We slid forward. We could’ve slid into the abyss. Noddie saved us. She stopped us here.”
“Saved us for later? Maybe she didn’t want to chase her dinner to the bottom of the shaft.”
“She hasn’t eaten us yet. She threw a bolt of flame over us and warned us to go away. If she wanted us for dinner, she could have roasted us alive.”
“She spoke?”
“Yeah, she said, ‘Beware the dragon.’ Maybe she thinks we’re trespassing.’”
“Everything happens to you doesn’t it?”
“What?”
Shotgun rolled his eyes, “Boss, you found Noddie, and she spoke to you! Don’t you get it?”
“She’s synthetic and intelligent,” Jack thought about it. “I guess that should be surprising, but I was too busy trying to think of ways to stay alive.”
“Oh brother, most of us would just count ourselves lucky to see Noddie. You talk to her and just blow it off.”
“Give me a break, dude, we weren’t exactly having tea and crumpets.”
“And I thought I was the comic relief.”
“Don’t worry, Shotgun, you have to deliver a straight line once in a while. Can’t have a laugh without a foil.”
“What’ll we do now?”
“Would you like to go back and interview a crypto-zoological monster? It’ll be fantastic for our creature feature show, and I’ll definitely make all the late-night audio shows.”
“Boss, be serious, we’re fugitives on the lam. An angry dragon suffering from PMS destroyed the Andromeda. We’re stranded so far below Nodlon I wouldn’t be surprised if Beelzebub popped out of the next hole. And you’re cutting up the crowd. Look I’m not laughing.”
“Look on the bright side of life, Shotgun! We’ve met Noddie and survived! It can’t get any worse. If we run into a ghost, we’ll just tell him we’ve had a bad day, and he can go haunt someone else.”
“Have you lost your mind? Are you seeing Moonbats? How are we gonna get outta here?”
“Levitate, Shotgun. I can still fly. Of course, if you’d rather wait here, I can send Gumshoe back for you with a rescue team.”
“Are you loony, boss? If something happens to you, I don’t even have a torch.”
“Good point, my intrepid companion. Let’s look, I think I’ve got a torch in the boot. And you might put the first aid kit in your satchel.”
“All right,” he said, looking in the dashboard compartments. “Found it.”
“Cheer up, Shotgun, we’ll make it.”
“Sorry boss.”
“No problem, let’s try getting the Andromeda running. She’s in bad shape. If we can start her, we can fly her. And you won’t have to worry about bats in my belfry.”
He brushed pebbles of glass off his cloak. He was thankful the rounded glass had no sharp edges or he would have suffered a thousand cuts on the slivers. Dusting the dash and the instrument panel he cleared aside more glass. Finding the ignition panel, he picked glass out of the cracks of its keypad.
Without expecting anything, he pressed the start button. Nothing happened. Thinking, he tried to remember the passcode. Jasmine’s birthday! He punched in the seven digit birthday code number. Again, nothing happened.
Glancing over his shoulder, Shotgun deadpanned. “It’s a long walk from here.”
“Maybe if we start the engine, we can get power to the levitators. I just need the joystick to control the flyer.”
“Yeah, boss.”
He flipped the manual switch on his hatch door first, and it hissed and gurgled. The hatch jiggled and fell back into place.
“Guess, we’ll just have to climb out.” He grasped the roll bar and pulled. Balancing carefully on the seat, he climbed through the moon roof. Glass in the gasket seals fell on his seat and the floorboard.
Astride the broken moon roof, he cast another blue ball to illuminate the shaft. The tunnel ran down hill into the dark. The shaft was too steep to stand on comfortably. His heart ached seeing the broken flyer. He sighed. Mom always said, ‘Never love anything that cannot love you back.’
He jumped into the air and levitated to the shaft floor. He slid on the sand and levitated to avoid falling. Righting himself on the slippery slope, he faced uphill and climbed. “Shotgun, be careful, the slope is slippery.”
The dwarf gazed up the tunnel. Caution overcame his usual spunky nature, and he climbed carefully out of the flyer. “See any sign of the dragon?” He danced on a sandy patch, and waved his arms to steady himself.
“No,” Jack glanced up the shaft. He would not be caught unaware twice in one evening.
Wobbling shakily on the sand, he assessed the damage. All of his lights were shattered. Hitting the wall had almost totaled the flight controls. The vertical stabilizer was intact and the rudder was in good condition. The starboard flaps dangled from wires, and the portside flaps were cracked. The ground effect lift was shoved neatly under the bumper. The engine hood was buckled.
Shotgun scrambled up the slope. Crawling in the sand, he examined the levitato
rs. “Can I get some light?”
“What?” Jack cast a blue ball, “Can’t you see in the dark, Shotgun?”
“Can’t see much even with the light. Starboard levitators appear to be intact.” He struggled to climb up the slope, and Jack helped him with a little levitation.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Jack replied. “We can fly out of here on magic.”
“Yeah, two miles straight up past Noddie.” Not waiting for an answer, Shotgun staggered to the portside. He sat on the floor and slid down to look at the portside levitators. “Don’t give me any baloney, boss. You can’t levitate us two miles straight up.”
“Puncture my bubble, why don’t you?”
“This isn’t the Circus, Jack Clay. You’re not superman. I’ve seen you sweating after a show.” Unsteadily Shotgun got to his feet and tried to climb back. He slipped on the sand, and dropped a couple of feet.
Jack levitated the dwarf. “Steady on, Shotgun.”
“Think Noddie has insurance?” Shotgun twisted side to side and stretched his back.
“Ha, afraid you’re out of luck there.”
“Will she fly?”
“She’s a wreck, but we need only its levitators to fly. The flight controls simply gave it a sporty look and a touch of maneuverability in the air.”
“Do you think the levitators will work?”
“If we can get her to start, maybe, let’s see if we can get the hood off.”
“Bet the starboard hood won’t give.” The hood was folded into an origami omelet.
“We’ll try the portside,” Shotgun released the hood’s latches and tugged hard. The hood’s hydraulic lifts gurgled. “It won’t budge.”
“Stand back, I’ll magic it off.”Shotgun climbed upslope several feet, and Jack rolled up his sleeves.
The magician struck a dramatic pose. He waved his arms melodramatically and hammed up his performance.
“Boss, no one’s watching except me.” Shotgun crossed his arms, “and Noddie and the ghosts.
“Oh, ye of little humor,” said Jack.
He cast a telekinetic burst and pried the hood off. The buckle popped. The pressure blew the hood off the flyer and launched it across the shaft. The hood twirled end over end and it sailed in an arc. The little hunk of metal flipped over, and briefly floated above them. The hood struck a wall and rolled. It bounced off a rock and hit the flyer.
“Whoa!”
“Oh, no!”
The flyer shuddered, and then slipped. It slid through Jack’s blue ball, and down the shaft. An avalanche of sand and stones fell after the flyer.
Shotgun momentarily forgot the futility of a dwarf trying to stop the flyer. He flung himself after the flyer.
“Boss!” Shotgun leapt into the air. The dwarf flailed at the flyer, and caught only air. He sailed over the dropping floor before gravity reasserted itself. The dwarf slapped the floor in a belly flop.
“Shotgun!” Too late to stop Shotgun’s headlong flight, Jack levitated the dwarf. He reeled the dwarf in before he slid off after the flyer. “Careful, Shotgun, you can’t catch a two ton machine!”
“What now?!”
“I’ll catch her!”
He cast a light ray down the tunnel.
An avalanche of rocks and stones chased the flyer. A cloud of dust rose from its wake. The flyer plunged into the dust, and disappeared. The rumble echoed up the shaft.
Catch it! He cast a telekinetic tether. The tether caught the flyer. He felt magic drain out of him, but the machine hardly slowed down.
Desperate, he poured every thought into slowing the flyer. Heavier objects take more effort! Concentrate! Conserve energy! He renewed the spell.
The force snagged him, and he jerked forward. He cast a shield to protect himself, and he flopped on the floor. He shot headlong down the shaft. He passed Shotgun, and flew into the dust cloud.
Let go! The flyer dragged him face first through the sand. No! Hang onto her!
On his magical cushion, he bounced on the rounded stones. It’s like snowboarding on the Balmhorn! Dust blew into his face, and he ate dirt. He tumbled. Snowboarding towards a bottomless pit!
He strained to slow the flyer. His energy drained, and the flyer accelerated into the abyss. Sweat stung his eyes.
Seeing a rock ahead, he kicked it. The jolt twisted him around, and he slid feet first.
If the shaft levels off, I might save her. He shoved his feet into the dirt, kicking up still more sand and a dust cloud. You’re too tired! His heels plowed furrows in the floor. If she drops into a pit, I’ll fall too! He redoubled his effort.
Dust billowed in front of him. Sand blasted his face. The cloud blotted out his view, and he shut his eyes.
He hit a rock and somersaulted head over heels. He belly flopped into the sand and his chest collapsed. The blow knocked the wind out of him, and his tether snapped.
The weight of the flyer was gone. He flipped over. He threw out his arms, and he landed on his back again.
He rolled to a stop.
The avalanche of dirt slowed to a halt.
Air defied him. His chest burned. He fought for a breath. His lungs screamed. All his strength turned to breathing. He sucked in air and gasped.
Darkness surrounded him. Am I up or down! He cast a blue ray again and the soft glow illuminated the thick dust.
All he saw was dust. He breathed slowly and tried to relieve the searing pain in his chest.
The sound of the flyer was gone. Gone! It’s gone!
The Ninth Ring
Cool, dank, and dusty the air in the shaft tasted as sweet as a pure mountain breeze. He struggled to breath. He savored the air. His lungs still burned. His feet and hands felt clammy.
Gone! It fell!
Dirt caked his eyes, but he forced them open. The blue light of his ray danced off the settling dust. The dust floated eerily. The cloud swirled.
An avalanche of sand and stones struck him. Pebbles clattered on stones. Gravel rolled by.
“Watch out!” Shotgun somersaulted past him.
A cloud of fresh dust engulfed him. Reacting with a start, he levitated Shotgun to check the dwarf’s fall.
Shotgun jerked to a halt. “Whoa!”
The magical tether dislodged him, and he slid after the dwarf. His energy spent, the magic vanished, and he dropped the dwarf.
Shotgun hit the floor. He slid a few feet on the loose sand, slapped a wall, and twisted around.
Sliding on the sand, he ran into the dwarf and they spun around. He jammed his boots in the sand and stopped.
“Ouch!”
“Sorry buddy!”
Shotgun caught his breath. “No worries, boss, it’s what I do.”
Hesitating, lest he resume his harrowing slide, Shotgun carefully crawled around Jack and sat next to him. “Are you all right?”
Silent, he thought about the question.
“Jack?” Shotgun asked, “are you with me?”
He nodded. He patted his chest. “Wind,” he wheezed. Together, they watched the cloud settle. The dust billowed. “Better,” he croaked. “Now, I feel better.”
“Is the flyer gone, boss?”
“Don’t know. I can’t see anything. My tether broke when the air was knocked out of me.” He waved at the grey cloud of dust. “After that the sound stopped. I’m hoping she’s still in one piece.”
“Maybe she fell into a bottomless pit.” Shotgun cleared his throat.
“I haven’t heard a crash.”
“Maybe she’s still falling.”
“Shotgun!” he scoffed, “Ever optimistic!”
“One of us has to be.” Shotgun poked him. “You’re too introverted.”
“Ha,” Jack chuckled. “The pot calls the kettle black. When we get out of here, I’ll hire an analyst. He can solve our neurotic tendencies.”
“Right now, I’d just settle for getting out of here. And a mad dragon guards our only way o
ut.”
“I can still fly. I just need a few minutes to recharge.”
“You’re exhausted. Face it, boss, she’s gone. We’ll have to climb out of here.”
“Maybe,” he sucked in a deep breath and summoned up his strength. “I think I’ve got power again. Let’s clear the air.”
He cast a breeze, and blew the dust away.
The shaft reappeared as the dust settled. Out of the haze, the flyer emerged from the cloud. It appeared no worse for its journey down the shaft.
“Look at that!” Shotgun pointed.
Jack’s blue ray ran the length of the shaft and ended on a cliff. The dust dropped into a pit. As the dust sank into the hole, it swallowed the glow from his magical light.
“Good grief,” Jack’s eyes widened. The flyer rested on the lip of the pit.
“Saved by a stroke of heaven above,” Shotgun whistled.
“What no faith in your employer, Shotgun?”
“We’ve just gone from beloved celebrities to wanted outlaws on the lam, and you want me to have faith?” Shotgun mocked him, “At this point, I’d just as soon settle for a plea bargain. I’ll claim I didn’t do it, and blame you for all the crimes.” He ribbed Jack.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, friend,” Jack chuckled, “I’ll put your Christmas bonus in a postcard from the Moon.”
“I’ll take gold. I’ve got a feeling I’ll need a solid currency after the war with Mars.”
“Yeah, well, before I can exonerate you of aiding and abetting me, I have to figure out what my crimes are first.”
“No problem there boss. If we’re guilty of Beslan, I’m sure we’re guilty of sabotaging the Marie Celeste, and the murders. They’ll blame us for all of the Black Dwarf’s future crimes too.”
“Unfortunately, you’re right, and we can’t stop him.” Jack put his head in his hands. “We’re certainly not going to find him down here. Gumshoe and Wiggles are on their own, and the Black Dwarf can do anything he wants with impunity.”
“On a positive note, boss,” said the dwarf. “How are we going to get down there? Slide?”
“If we slide down and kick up an avalanche, we might send her into the pit.”
“Can you levitate us?”
“Maybe,” Jack stood up slowly, and balanced in the furrows gouged by his heels. He tried to levitate, and the magic failed. The shaft went dark.
“Boss?!”
He felt a pit in his stomach, and he slipped on the sand. He rolled a few yards. An avalanche of sand and gravel slewed around him. Pebbles pelted the flyer. The little stones clinked against the sheet metal. He held his breath. Don’t fall!
“Boss,” called Shotgun. “Jack! Jack! Are you there?” The dwarf’s voice quivered.
“Here, I’m okay,” he sighed. For the first time in years he remembered what it was like to be unable to fly.
“What happened?”
“I just ran out of magic.” He took a breath. “I’m tired. I’ve run out before, but it’s been years. Trying to save the Andromeda drained me.”
“Great! What happens if you run out of magic while you’re flying?”
“Same thing that happens to cows when the space aliens drop them.”
“Remind me not to fly with Jack Air.”
“Thanks, Shotgun,” he laughed. “I need someone to keep my feet on the ground.” Laughing made him feel better. He cast a blue ray, and a dim light filled the shaft.
“There you go, Shotgun. I just needed a little rest. And I think the joke helped too.”
“Any time, boss, that’s what I’m here for.”
Dust billowed from where the avalanche had come to rest.
“So what do we do now? I don’t want to be stuck here forever, and I don’t want the Black Dwarf to get away.”
“Magic, Shotgun, I need time to recharge, but I feel the magic coming back.”
Jack cast a shelf under the flyer. He put a magical bridge across the pit to brace the shelf, and he added a wedge to keep the flyer on the shelf. He jammed the magical wedge under the flyer’s nose.
“What do you think, Shotgun?”
“Great, if it holds. A moment ago, you couldn’t even fly.”
“Optimism, Shotgun, optimism,” he grinned. “I’m feeling better now.”
“I’d be more optimistic, if I knew how much energy you’ve got in your manna can.”
“Trust me, Shotgun, I’m here to help.”
“Last time I checked, boss, punch lines were my job.” The dwarf grinned, “You stick to magic and leave the comic relief to me.”
“Ah, but you should do more straight lines, Shotgun,” Jack wagged a finger in the air. “Often, the straight lines are more important. Remember Abbott? He was the great Atlantis comedian who left his monastery and joined the musician Costello to become a comedy team like no other of their age? Abbott was a very funny comedian, but he played the straight man in their partnership.”
“Here’s a straight line, then, my elven superego,” Shotgun put his hands on his hips. “Have you got enough magic to fly and hold the shelf?”
“Not sure,” he studied the slope. “Let’s take a page out of mountain climbing.” He reversed his stance, and faced upslope. Shotgun was several yards above him.
“Do as I do,” he said to the dwarf. He leaned into the slope, and found a hand hold. Each step triggered a tiny rush of sand and pebbles. Slowly, he made his way to the flyer on all fours. He kicked himself mentally. He should have tried this first.
Taking his cue, Shotgun climbed after him.