Unity Carl Stubblefield (read book TXT) 📖

“Yeah, I’m kind of getting that,” Gus said wryly as he ran to grab his things.

“I assume you can pilot the ship?” Tempest pointed to Seneschal, who nodded curtly and headed purposefully to the lifts.

Was she the pilot all along? Gus wondered as he jogged back to his room. His pack was still there, leaning against the wall, so he just grabbed it and headed out and hit the button for the lift.

When it came, Grimdark and Pulse were already aboard. The car rose, heading to the roof. Gus assumed a forward-facing stance, observing proper elevator etiquette: he stayed absolutely silent, preserving the awkward silence that must prevail when riding in elevators with acquaintances.

As the doors opened, they all were hit with a big blast of exhaust as a transport landed on the tarmac. This ship was much less sleek than the previous Faction transport, and looked to be cobbled together of scavenged parts from at least three different models of vehicles.

As it rotated into position, it made a pitiful moan reminiscent of the TARDIS before setting down with a heavy *thunk* like a weary beast of burden.

“Perfect.” Grimdark clapped his hands with approval, showing a hint of a curved lip, which was the closest thing to a smile Gus had ever seen the super achieve. Pulse shook his head and jogged under the ship, disappearing into a thick cloud of exhaust and steam-like emissions.

No one really could have done a better job of arranging a mismatched conglomeration of parts and wear to simulate a broken-down transport if they had tried. Manticorps must have been down on their luck indeed, if this was the best they had to send over to take the manor.

“Do you think it’s safe?” Gus asked, slack-jawed.

“Maybe. Maybe not. But perfect,” Grimdark said, shrugging. He clapped a hand on Gus’ shoulder and they walked to the ship like they were old pals.

Grimdark carried him along to the underside of the transport as a gangway lowered with a rumbling hum of hydraulics, spilling a miasma of exhaust and steam as the ship ticked and rattled as it cooled down.

Up close, the preponderance of duct tape and jury-rigged improvements were painfully evident. Grimdark patted the scored dark paneling under the ship, eliciting a hollow noise as he *thunked* away. Gus looked sideways as a small plate came loose and began swinging back and forth from Grimdark’s love pat.

“This is made to last. Reminds me of home.” The rest of what Grimdark was saying was lost as he stomped up the gangplank and disappeared inside.

Gus tried in vain to reclose the loose plate, finally giving up and letting it swing free. The elevator slid open again and two mounds of cables shuffled out. He rushed to help, relieving a large toolbox that was heavy and unwieldy, even with his increased strength. The three hobbled up the gangway, the rest of the Crew joining them, picking up components that had dropped on their trip.

Darik muttered angrily as he put his hands in the small of his back and stretched. After an audible *pop*, he reached into a satchel and threw a magnetized net over the cables, holding the gear secure as Seneschal fired up the repulsors.

“Looks like we’re all here. Hang on, ladies and gentlemen,” Seneschal said over the comms and the ship shimmied and shook as it slowly pulled away from the manor.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Bullet with Butterfly Wings

Gus, Darik, and Yuki held on as the transport lumbered into the air and banked to their new heading. Darik pushed a button on the side of the toolbox with a kick. A low hum, audible over the transport’s engines, could be heard. The toolbox that was slowly sliding away stopped abruptly and fixed in position as its base magnetized.

After quickly reaching their cruising altitude and leveling out, Darik grabbed an armful of materials and motioned for Gus to follow him. He disengaged the magnet and carried the toolbox over to a small panel on the side of the wall. Opening it revealed a small passage with a myriad of colored wires in a tiny room beyond.

This must be where Aurora hid, Gus noted as he saw the brownish gray dust disturbed on the floor of the small passage and a hand-print along one wall. He never would have considered himself claustrophobic, but the area inside was tight. The thought of getting turned around and stuck inside unsettled him. Yuki pushed past, dragging cables and a Ziplock bag with various chips and wires within.

“Are you in the control room, Grimdark?”

“Yes.”

She curled into position inside and began connecting wires like an old-time phone operator. Gus wondered how she was going to get out as the tiny cords crisscrossed back and forth in the tiny space. She disappeared from view, moving upward. Every once in a while, her hand could be seen as she grabbed a cord and pulled it upwards out of sight as Darik held the line and fed it to her, keeping it from pulling or getting tangled on anything.

“Gus, go grab BoJack, I’m going to need him for this next bit,” Darik asked over his shoulder.

When they arrived, Darik instructed BoJack to hold various cables and connectors in place as they were positioned against the walls and attached to various ports and others were directed to the other floors. BoJack made staple-like fasteners of ether which allowed the cables to remain up and out of the way. Yuki poked her head out of an opening in the room above and BoJack extended the ends of the cords up to her.

“Gus, while many supers can manipulate ether with their powers, shaping it into permanent constructs is a lot more rare. Maybe one in four can create something that will last longer than a day. If you do make something like this,” he gestured to the staples, “you have to make sure that you’ll be around to take them down.