Origin: The Scorpion's Sting

            “SIR! There they are!”

            Lieutenant Flint rushed to the side of the bridge, staring up into the sky. The large Sky-Station Hierophant could be seen among the clouds, lowering as it approached the city of Jalandhar. Flint tensed. The Sky-Station was a lot bigger then he imagined it was, and it looked beautiful and sleek compared to the English model it was based off of. Prince Ramaya was truly a fine craftsman of war machines.

            Unfortunately, those machines were now turned on Flint. Flint spotted a flurry of activity from the Station and his eyes narrowed. Tiny biplanes, sleek in design and golden in color, were being launched to face them. Flint hated this type of aircraft due to their maneuverability, speed, and lack of firepower. All they did was harass, like the airship equivalent to a fly.

            Two larger forms were seen rising over the platform and then descending. Flint’s eyes narrowed, and he walked to a set of binoculars by one of the observation windows. The contraption was on a singular track that swiveled around the bridge. The binoculars were far too heavy to lug around due to their complex lens crafting. Flint had bought it in New York, off a Turkish vendor selling these types of optics.

            Peering into the binoculars, he flipped some switches to adjust the view and zoomed on the group. Besides the elegant planes two airships had joined the fight. Flint noticed they wore basic armor and were golden like the biplanes. They were royal aircraft, designed so their looks were just as powerful as their guns.

            “Tell those Sepoy to take their battle stations,” said Flint, smiling, “Let the ‘Boxers’ down in the engine room know we need all the power the Scorpios has!”

            “Yes, Lieutenant,” said a Sepoy Sergeant, running to a communication tube.

            Flint hoped these Indians could fight. The Boxers (the Chinese) were incredibly smart, but they could not operate the same weapons and systems they helped upkeep and clean. Besides, this was more the Indians’ fight then his anyway.

            Just as the roar of the Biplanes rose over the din of the landship, Flint saw his landship come to life. On the deck, troops scurried around looking for their positions. The anti-aircraft turret positions hissed to life, spinning and jerking before beading towards the sky. Certain teams lugged the few Gatling attachments to positions on the railing, plugging them in and preparing them for battle. Finally, a small vibration was added to the mix, and Flint could tell the large, main cannon was preparing for battle.

            “Lieutenant Flint,” said the same Sergeant from early, “The troops will be ready to attack soon, but your cannon will be no match against those smaller fliers!”

            “It’s not for them, it’s for those airships!” said Flint, “But don’t be shy in taking a few of them out while we try to hit those balloons!”

            “Those airships will be out of range soon,” said the Sergeant, “I am uncomfortable with your strategy!”

            “Those airships are royal show ships,” said Flint, “Your Prince Ramaya is too proud for his own good. They are air-to-air combat! They cannot attack well without broadsiding us!”

            “What about their warriors? They can board.”

            Just then the farthest Anti-Aircraft gun turret opened up, its large cannon firing specialized bullets into the sky. About the same time the biplanes began to open fire, their duel machines guns spraying bullets towards the deck.

            “Let’s see them try,” smiled Flint.

            The battle had begun. Biplanes swooped in their first run, all opening fire. Their bullets pinged off the metal hull, Sepoy riflemen diving for cover. The Scorpios’ anti aircraft guns began to fire into the sky. Two biplanes exploded under the shear firepower of the guns. The Gatling crews began firing as well as the biplanes circled overhead. Their bullets continued to harass the planes. The biplanes had tail gunners at the rear of the plane, so even as they flew away they continued to fire down at the ship.

            A few of the planes had small bombs on board, and they dropped them as they swooped overhead. Two landed short of the landship. Their explosions throwing dirt and smoke onto its mighty metal legs. A Third overshot, the bomb shrieking as it flew over the deck and landed in some trees behind the ship. A fourth hit, however, its explosion vibrating the entire ship and its explosion sweeping some Sepoy off their feet.

            At the sight of the battle, the two airships began to rise higher into the sky. Flint almost held his breathe as he calculated in his head the rough range the were at.

            BOOM!

            The landship shuttered as the main cannon fired. The shot streaked through the air, missing the first airship but slamming into the broadside of the second. The ship shuttered at the force, and its elegant features did nothing to stabilize the ship after the hit. The airship capsized and spun in the air, plummeting to the ground.

            The ship continued to tremble and shake, and Flint grabbed hold of a consol nearby, feeling as his ship dived a little.

            “The hell was that!” he yelled, “YOU! Stabilize starboard legs! Full thrusters to port! Other jargon and stuff! Stabilize it!”

            “Lieutenant!” yelled a Sepoy from the communication Tube area, “The Chinamen are yelling something! I cannot understand their accent!”

            “Give me a sec!” Flint yelled, rushing to the communication tube, “Lieutenant Flint, what the hell happened? We’re tipping!”

            “We can stabilize, sir,” came the choppy English from the otherside of the tube, “We can no fire while moving! This walker no-good for that. Shoot big gun while standing! We no-good!”

            “Can you save us!”

            “This no problem. We’ll be right in a second,” shouted the voice, “No more firing while motion!”

            “I got it, you just keep us alive,” said Flint, he turned to the others, “We’ll be fine, how are we doing?”

            “Lost that airship, sir,” said the Sergeant.

            “What? Lost it? How did we lose it?”

            “It was there one second, and now it is gone!”

            “Damnit, Sergeant… how do you lose a giant ship!”

            “Bridge! This is turret four,” cried a voice through the tubes, “That issue screwed with our steam line. We have regained power, but we have a bad jam!”

            The speaker repeated his ply in Indian as Flint ran to the window. Sure enough, a close gun turret was spewing black smoke and the Sepoy supposed to be showing it were running around it with tools, some of them yielding British Le Enfield Rifles and firing into the sky.

            “Crap,” said Flint, his eyes scanning the sky, “I guess we really did lose it. Sergeant, bridge is yours. I’m going hunting!”

            Flint crossed the length of the bridge to a gun rack in the back and he grabbed a Le Enfield himself. Before heading through the exit hatch, he gazed through the bridge at the large Platform making its way towards Jalandhar. He glared once more and headed out the hatch.

            After rushing through the corridors of his landship, he exited a hatch out into the daylight, and into chaos. He must’ve missed the impacts while rushing through the ship, but two more of the biplane bombs had hit the landship. Chinamen and Sepoy rushed around, bringing tools and water to soldiers and lugging away the dead and wounded below deck.

            The rise and fall of the hum of biplane engines filled Flint’s ears as they flew overhead, shooting their twin machine guns. Flint ran out onto the deck, starring up into the sky. He could not see the airship, only the biplanes and the trail of his gun’s bullets into the sky.

            Flint did not bother wasting bullets on firing into the sky. He rushed across the deck of the ship and ran to the turret, which had stopped spewing black smoke. As Flint reached it, he ducked inside. A few of the Chinese engineers were working tirelessly with the gun. The large clip of anti-aircraft rounds was out of the receiver and tossed aside, and the engineers worked to dislodge a bullet from the gun.

            “What’s the status. We need every gun moving, boys,” said Flint.

            One of the engineers spouted off in Chinese and Flint rolled his eyes. One of these days he’d have to learn their language. Outside, the Sepoy yelled to each other in their own native tongue. If he kept up traveling like this, he’d have to learn many more languages.

            Flint decided to man-handle the gun, walking up to the receiver and slamming his foot down on it. The bullet moved slightly, sliding further into the firing mechanism. Flint grabbed the massive shutter that exposed of used shells, and with the aid of a few chinamen, he pulled the mechanism back, shooting the damaged shell out of the gun.

            “Hey, Sepoy,” yelled Flint, poking his head out of the armored turret, “Load it up and fire it. She’s fixed.”

            The engineers had barely packed up when the Sepoy loaded the clip back in and aimed the cannon, firing again into the sky. Flint fixed himself next to the gun, helping to aim it just ahead of the fast moving biplanes. The cannon fired large anti aircraft shells, looking like oversized bullets. It could fire it continually as long as the shooter could pull the trigger. This meant that the Scorpios could adjust its shots faster then other anti-aircraft means, and catch the biplanes by surprise.

            The gun fired three shots continually. The first was just behind a biplane’s tail, the second slammed into the tail, and the third was forward just enough to ignite the gas tank under the pilots seat. The plane dropped from the sky.

            Flint smiled and cheered with the Sepoy, but his cheers were cut short when the ping of bullets was heard outside and screams followed. He patted the gun team on their shoulders and he took his leave from the turret.

            Outside, Flint could see that in the wake of a biplane’s strife one of the Gatling crews lay wounded and bleeding on the deck. Flint ran to them and check their vitals. Some of the Sepoy would live, but two of them were all but gone already. Flint heard more gunshots too close for his liking and he ran to the Gatling. Slinging the Le Enfield over his shoulder He grabbed the Gatling turret and checked the steam connection. It was still attached, and he flipped the switch so the steam would flow. The gauge stated that he was at full power, and the barrels began to spin quickly. Flint aimed down the sights and spun the gun, aiming at the first plane he spotted. Pressing the duel triggers down, he heard the pit-pat of the gun as it spit bullets into the air. The bullets panged and dented at the armor of the biplanes, but Flint couldn’t get them to pierce the armor, or actually kill any of the pilots or tail gunners.

            “Lieutenant!” came a cry from the Sergeant in the bridge over the tube-PA system, “The Airship Indra is at our flank!”

            “No… how?” cursed Flint under his breathe and he turned around to face the other side of his ship.

            Across the deck he could see the bow of the landship, and the Airship swooped in quickly, positioning itself a ways away from the landship. The ship slowed, and Flint eyes the broadside.

            “Everyone down,” he said, slightly quieter then he meant to, and he ducked his head.

The airship fired, the five cannons on its elegant side bursting with flame. The old-fashioned cannon shells streaked overhead. Only two landed on the broadside of the landship, exploding on impact, the other streaked overhead and landed somewhere behind the ship.

Flint rose, feeling the rumbling of his ship. The Scorpios took the barrage, but after they adjusted it wouldn’t survive another one. Gazing back to the stern, Flint saw the large cannon making its way to bead on the ship. That Airship would not withstand a blow from it at this range. Flint leaned to a communication tube close to him and opened it.

“Prepare the broadside, Sergeant,” he yelled inside, “Tell the cannon to fire when ready!”

Flint flipped the switch from the steam source and shut power to the gun. Unlocking the hose from the steam port he release a burst of leftover pressure. Flint unlatched the gun from the ammo dispenser and lifted it from the port. Slinging it over his shoulder, he turned and began a trot across the landship’s deck, heading to the opposite side of the ship.

“This side,” said Flint, “Sepoy, on me! This side!”

Flint reached the other side of the deck and set the Gatling down on an unused port. Two other Sepoy helped him attach the steam connection and the ammunition supply. Flint allowed one of them, whom had lost his rifle, to man the gun and he un-slung his Le Enfield.

“Lieutenant,” a nearby soldier called out, “They are a danger!”

“Those are old-styled cannons,” said Flint, “They cannot do another broadside while we got them in our sight. We’ll shoot them out of the sky!”

“They will fly out of range, sir,” said the Sepoy again.

“They can’t do it fast enough,” said Flint, eyeing as thee main cannon was almost moved into position, “That gun’s range is too long.”

“Not farther away, sir,” cried the Sepoy, “They will get closer. They are preparing to board!”

Flint had to take a moment to allow the words to sink in, but then he remembered the Corporal’s words before he left the bridge. His eyes narrowed.

“Aim, boys,” he yelled, raising his rifle, “Prepare to fight them! Just let them try to board. Let’s make them realize their own mistake!”

The Sepoy stood firm, watching as gunshots could be seen shooting towards them from the airship. One of the Corporals yelled something in Indian and the soldiers that could, grabbed their bayonets and fixed them to their rifles. Flint felt ashamed, but he knelt down to a nearby wounded man awaiting to be carried off and he grabbed his bayonet and affixed it to his rifle.

“AIM” yelled Flint.

The Sepoy leveled their rifles and the airship, which was now tilting in their direction and getting noticeably closer.

Shoot, damnit. Shoot… Flint’s thoughts ran, they cannot board.

The Sepoy on gun emplacements allowed the steam to spin the barrels, and they pressed the triggers. Bullets shot off, streaking through the sky at the Indra.

“FIRE,” came Flint’s quick response as he raised his own rifle.

The deck ignited with the spurts of gunfire as all the nearby Sepoy fired. The Airship was still far enough out that Flint was unsure of their actual effectiveness. But the Indra was approaching quickly, and Flint could hear their own gunfire beginning to ping off the metal of the Scorpios, and wiz by his head.

“Reload,” said Flint, lowering his rifle to pull back the bolt, “RELOAD!”

The Sepoy all put a new round in the chamber, some of them beginning to get antsy. One shot fired slightly too close for Flint’s liking.

“We’re gonna need some help up here,” said Flint, “And someone tell the gun’s crew to shoot her down. FIRE!”

The group let loose another flurry of bullets. Flint could see the crew on the Indra’s deck take cover, but could not see if anyone had been wounded. The ship was now picking up speed, and Flint could see that they were gonna get slammed. On the side, pick-like hooks were raised, preparing to clamp down on the Scorpios’ deck and hold tight.

“Roload, and prepare for boarding,” called out Flint, “Do not fire until they are right on us. Be sure to take them out before they can get onboard!”

The shadow of the Indra’s balloon was getting cast on the crew, and the decks were almost ready to touch. Flint could see the crew of the Indra throwing aside their rifles. Some raising pistols and firing at the group. Others, however, drew swords and waved them above their heads, giving calls ready for boarding.

Right before the ship head, Flint gave the signal and the last barrage of bullets streamed from the Scorpios. This time Flint could spot the blood splatters off several warriors. Flint fired, watching his bullet pelt a man in the shoulder. He reloaded quickly before the board.

The Indra creaked as the ships collided. The hooks slammed down on the metal deck, latching the ships together. The Landship shuddered, but the Legs were ready for the impact and they steadied the ship. Using the momentum, the boarding party leapt from their ship, firing pistols and swinging their sword in a hail of battle cries.

Someone gave a command and the majority of Sepoy lunged at the falling attackers with their bayonets. Flint, and two other unknown soldiers that had reloaded, fired upward, shooting two attacked right from the sky. Afterward, metal on metal screeched and clanged against each other. Screams rang out from attackers being stabbed by bayonets as well as defenders being slashed by swords.

Flint was lost in the fray. He parried a strike from a large attacker. Flint swung up the butt of his rifle and slammed it into the attacker’s face. As the attacker recovered, Flint rammed his rifle into his gut, burying the blade. The attacker dropped his sword, closing his eyes.

Flint pulled back, allowing the attacker to fall backward in agony. Flint pulled back the bolt, loading another bullet into the rifle. He raised the rifle and aimed at another attacker who was wailing on a cowering Sepoy’s gun. Flint fired, the bullet spraying blood forward with the bullet. The attacker reeled, the bullet digging into his back.

Flint had enough time to spin his rifle around and slide in a new round for an attacker who had killed his target and ran towards Flint. Flint pulled the trigger before he was within range of his sword.  The attacker fell, dead.

“Sir,” cried a soldier, running up to the fray with reinforcements behind him, “We need to dislodge this ship!”

“I figured,” said Flint.

“The Scorpios cannot move,” he continued.

The reinforcements joined the fray, and helped deal with many of the first boarding party. A few soldiers jumped back onto their ship, and they readied some pistols and rifle to fire at the Scorpios’ crew.

“How do we dislodge it,” said Flint, firing the last shot in his rifle’s clip and he ejected the clip, preparing to put a brand new one in.

“The controls should be on the ship,” the soldier said, “We have to board their ship!”

Flint finished reloading his Le Enfield, and pulled the bolt to load the fresh bullet. All the attackers onboard his ship were almost dealt with, and many of the Sepoy had begun firing onto the enemy ship.

“Board,” ordered Flint, raising his rifle and shooting an enemy who peeked his head up to fire on the crew, “We must dislodge the ship!”

One Sepoy tossed a lit mini-bomb onto the Indra, and it exploded seconds later. After that, Flint’s Sepoy fired wild shots as they leapt onto the deck of the Indra. Flint joined them, leaping the small gap and japing at the enemy crew with his rifle.

Flint raised his rifle and fired at a man wielding a pistol by the upper deck. Flint then turned to a screaming swordsman who was running towards the new boarding crew. Flint lunged out with the rifle and impaled him. With the man falling to the ground, Flint surveyed the ship.

Fighting had broken out on the deck, and Flint’s Sepoy along with the Indra’s crew were locked in combat everywhere. Although heavy fighting had occurred, and still continued, it appeared most of the Sepoy who boarded were killed by gunfire or counter-attack after boarding, and a great deal of the Indra’s crew lay slain on the decks as well.

“Sir, over there!” yelled a soldier, pointing towards a contraption in the middle of the ship.

Flint rushed over to it, and realized that it was the controls to the ship’s boarding hooks. One side’s handle was flipped up, and the others was currently sideways. Flint assumed the sideways one was what was keeping the Indra hooked on. Flint pulled it upward, and braced himself as the Indra shuttered, and the giant boarding clamps released and returned into the ship. The Indra shuttered again, and Flint was cast to the floor. When he rose, his Sepoy were leaping from the side to get back onto the ship.

Flint rushed to the edge, and cursed. The Indra was too far from the Scorpios to jump now, and it was drifting farther and farther away. Flint looked around the Indra’s deck, and realized the reason why was because of an empty helm.

Flint saw only him and one other Sepoy remained onboard, and the Indra’s crew was bearing down on them.

“Well,” said the Sepoy, looking towards Flint, “We die with honor! Fight on!”

With a few battle cries in his native tongue, the Sepoy threw himself at a few crew members and emerged himself back into the fight. Flint turned to notice three crewmen with their eyes on him, approaching quickly and angrily.

Flint drew his revolver, firing a shot into the closest crewman’s gut. With two more shots the other two fell as well. His gunfire had caught the attention of more remaining crewmen, who either grabbed guns and took cover or drew their swords and rushed at him.

Flint ducked behind some debris on the ship, firing at the attackers and killing a few crewmen.

“Ok, got to think of a way off,” thought Flint allowed, looking back at the Scorpios.

Flint noticed a flash coming off the Scorpios, then he noticed the entire broadside of cannons he had below deck light up. Flint’s eyes widened.

“Get DOWN!” he yelled, to no-one in particular a second before the impact.

Cannon shells from his ship ripped through the Indra. Many overshot of flew over the deck without much damage. Flint could feel the shutter of one slamming into the deck, then exploding. Another shutter as two more hit the side. Flint could feel wood shards and heat as the deck began to explode around him.

Flint pulled down the brim of his fedora to aid in shielding his eyes and he rose, looking around pleadingly.

The Indra was coming apart, and yet it was rising rapidly. The deck was cracking if half, the rooms were bursting in flame. Wood and metal was raining down from the balloon and from below.

Flint walked to the edge of thee ship and gazed around. The Airship’s armor was coming lose from the balloon and from the hull and falling towards the earth, allowing the airship to rise due to the lack of weight, and quickly. They were almost triple the height they were a second earlier. Crew and supplies were also being lost overboard and plummeting to their deaths.

Flint spied his ship. The Scorpios’ main cannon was turning to aim at the Airship, and by the looks of it it already had them in its sights. Flint’s eyes widened.

“Oh no,” he whispered, eyes widening, “Don’t shoot me! That’s my ship! Don’t you DARE shoot me with my own ship!”

Just the Flint noticed a few of the falling crewmen began to float, and they had small parachutes appear above their heads. Flint spun around and scanned the dying deck of the ship. On the other side of the deck was a rack of parachutes, and a few people had already taken a few off of it. Two crewman aided each other in getting them on, then they leapt off the side of the ship.

“I’ve had worst ideas” stated Flint, sprinting across the deck and aiming his pistol.

Three parachutes left. A wounded crewman went to grab one of them and Flint fired, the crewman falling over dead. Another crewman noticed the shot, and turned to fight Flint head-on. Flint shot him as well. A third grabbed a parachute and attempted to strap it on. Flint aimed and fired. The bullet slammed into his chest, and the dead man fell back and overboard, the parachute with him. Two left.

Flint had made it across the deck, and he holstered his revolver. Flint picked up a parachute. Before he could put it on, he was grabbed. Flint spun around, and a large Indian punched him square in the face. Flint stumbled back, tripping over the broken railing and falling back, out of the airship.

Flint’s fedora flew off in the sudden wind, and Flint awoke with the blast of cool air after all that hot air. He let out a scream, but held tightly to his parachute.

Flint spun around, attempting to slip the parachute on while falling through the air. He had trouble focusing. The ground seemed so big now… and the debris and dead bodies didn’t fall, but seemed to just float and spin in the air. Flint eyes his Landship. A flash came from the cannon, and quicker then he could follow a large shell streaked through the air and passed him, slamming into the Airship.

BOOM!

The sound of the gunshot reached him as the Airship above exploded into splinters. Flint had just affixed the second strap around his arm and awaited a chance to pull the string.

Flint yanked the cord, the ground now too close for his liking, and gazed upward. Flint’s shoot opened nicely, but as it rose and opened, Flint wished he would’ve waited. The Airship had burst into many flaming piece, and it now made its way downward and toward him. The shoot finished opening and it covered his view from the burning hellhole now approaching him quickly.

Flint looked around, his face scrunching. He was going to die if he couldn’t think of something. Flint spotted one of the Biplanes that was heading straight for him, and his heart quickened.

“Hey… go away!” was all he could manage to say.

The biplane must not have seen him, but by the time it quickly came towards him, it would’ve been too late to do anything. The plane flew above Flint, but went almost straight through his shoot.

Flint closed his eyes, and felt himself get yanked roughly to the side. After a second, he had the sensation of being dragged. When he opened his eyes again, Flint was sideways, and his shoot had tangled in the biplane’s wings. Flint was getting closer to the plane, and he realized the cords wrapped in the propeller were reeling his in like a fishing rod.

Flint slammed into the tail of the plane, hard, and held on tight. He slipped off the pack before it could drag him any closer to the front of the plane and into the propeller. Flint grasped the tail with his life, and he looked around.

The tail gunner was shocked that they had hit a parachute, and the pilot worked to clear his vision and, hopefully, the propeller. The tail gunner stood up and reached out his hand to aid Flint.  Flint grasped it, and wwas pulled farther up the tail. Suddenly, the gunner let go, and Flint heard him yell something in Indian.

Flint grabbed his pistol and pointed it at him, hardening his face. Sure enough, the gunner had recognized his foreignness and was grabbing the tail machine gun to aim at Flint. Flint fired, the tail gunner’s head being jerked back and he slumped into the plane.

Flint smiled, and attempted to crawl forward to deal with the pilot, who was still standing. Suddenly the plane jerked, and Flint looked up. The pilot began to slump, and Flint noticed the gunshot in his back. Crap, Flint shot him too!

The plane shuttered again, and began tilting downward. Flint holstered his pistol and scrambled up to the tailgunner seat. He leapt over it onto the wing, and scurried to the pilot’s seat. Pulling the dead pilot out and tossing him off the plane, Flint leapt into the seat and grasped the lever.

“No worries, eh Flint?” Flint laughed, “Just got to… keep… going. I’ll half-land it somewhere…”

Just then the rest of the parachute ripped away. The cord was whipped into the Propeller, and the engine puttered and snapped. The Propeller stopped dead, and smoke began to billow from the engine.

“Cool,” said Flint, “That’s alright. I’ll just coast down.”

Suddenly bullets streamed past Flint’s head, causing him to duck. Shots ripped through the wings, and the tail of the Plane was hit as well.

“What NOW!” yelled Flint.

Looking to his left, Flint spotted the Scorpios. The Anti-Aircraft cannons were now pointed in his direction, and shells and bullets sprayed towards him.

“Crap…” thought Flint, “Not again.”

Flint glanced around the plane. If he could find another parachute maybe he could make it. Flint spotted a red lever, and it had a picture of a man parachuting above it. He shrugged, and a flurry of bullets pinging the light armor on the plane caused him to yank it as hard as he could.

Flint could feel a new rumbling coursing through the plane. Flint looked around, but could see nothing. He looked back at the dead tail gunner. Suddenly, the gunner’s body fell into the plane and vanished. Flint’s eyes widened, and he looked at the floor of his own cockpit. The floor was moved away, and many of the mechanics were being pulled. Flint rushed to strap himself in as his chair rumbled with a few last clicks and then it fell, right through the bottom of the plane. The plane drifted over head, then sailed away.

Flint wrestled with the buckle, and snapped it in just as the parachute was released from the back of the chair. A few shots could be heard whistling past him, but then they left him, following the plane farther and farther away. One of the shots hit true, and exploded. The smoking plane spun from the force, and dived towards the ground.

Then it was…. Relatively quiet. Flint could hear his own breathing. His fast… jagged breathing. A few gunshots rang out from the Scorpios, and he could even hear the rat-tat-tat from some surviving biplanes. Flint leaned back in the chair, and gasped for air.

“Woah” was all he could muster.

He watched the Scorpios’ main cannon stop as it swiveled, and fired a shot, the sound following a second afterward.

BOOM!

The round flew into the air, and slammed into the still lowering Hierophant. It exploded, and one of its rear thrusters faltered. Suddenly it began to rise in the air, and Flint saw it was recalling its planes. He smiled.

One loan Landship… and it stopped it from raiding the poor town. Crippled, probably. Flint figured he couldn’t destroy it.

BOOM!

A second shot streaked across the sky, and slammed into the hull of the Hierophant. The Sky-Station was very wounded now. Flint could see they dumped all their ballasts and garbage to soar into the sky and escape the Scorpios’ range.

Flint wanted to go limp in the chair. Smiling, he raised his hand. They had done it! Wounded the Indian Prince and his almost unstoppable rampage when the British Government could not. With his flagship wounded, he’ll stop raiding the small towns and cities. He might even stop harassing the British enough for them to regain control of this country… and then even if he regained his strength he would have to face their full force, and with them having time to deal with him. Flint smiled.

A gust of wind cooled his face. With it, something fluttered down from above, and was swooped toward Flint. Flint reached out and grabbed it eagerly. It was his hat, his Fedora. Flint wanted to laugh, but instead he just tucked it into his coat. He wasn’t going to lose that it again.