Terror of the Shadow

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Laban dove back over the edge of the sand dune and tumbled back down into the fog. The glowing, burning fire of the engine was his guide through the storm. Finding the cockpit again, he hoisted himself into the chair and sealed the dome. He activated the life support system, which was blissfully still online. The pumps and filters worked to purge the dusty smoke from the cabin. When Laban could see far enough in front of his face to operate the control panels, he began to power down all the non-essential systems—basically everything but life support and coolant.

Now all he could do was sit and wait until the computer told him it was safe to power up the engine again.

Laban sat back in his chair. He tore the goggles and mask off his face and unfastened the front of his coat. He felt like he could breathe again. He took a rag and wiped the sweat from his face. He could have wrung that rag out and used it to drink from if he wanted to.

He looked at all the lights and screens all flashing warnings and alarms at him. This was a military-grade vehicle, so it had been built to take a beating. But Laban could tell that it was injured. If Aristarchus or Kol had been here, they would be able to tell him how to fix this. But he himself had no idea what any of these warnings meant. He knew very little about this machine besides how to turn it on and roughly how to fly it. He now began to doubt that he knew enough to get himself back home again. Laban moved his hand to his waist, feeling the reassuring presence of his pistol that he had hoped never to use.

Laban closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had a mission to do. He had to prove to Those Above, if They were watching, that he didn't deserve this curse. He had to get the seer-stone from Ithtar and prevent his dark magic from spreading further. Most of all, he had to get home.

Laban secured the mask again, feeling the cool flow of oxygen over his face. He unsealed the cockpit and ventured back out into the fog. It had begun to settle now that the engine had quit its violent belching. The sun shone an angry red through the black smog.

He climbed back up the dune, using his old footsteps as stairs. This time he was armed with a pair of macrobinoculars. Sure enough, the War'acks were coming, running across the flat, barren salt flats before him. They were still a ways out yet. At least, they were too far for Laban to hit with his pistol. But they were moving fast.

From what he could see through his macrobinoculars, there weren't many of them... maybe a dozen or fewer. That would have been too many for Laban to take on his own, but right now he had the high ground, which gave him the advantage.

He ran back down once more into the valley. He had a plan. He threw open the external access to the bomb bay, using a wrench to free one of the remaining explosives from its spot.

He tried to drag the heavy mass up the steep side of the sand, but gave up halfway and just rolled it to the top, momentarily forgetting or at least choosing to ignore the dangers of handling an explosive device so carelessly. He reached the top, letting go of the bomb and watching it topple to the bottom of the dune. Laban chased after it, making no attempt at grace in his descent. Using his hand and his hook, he hurriedly burrowed into the sand, digging like an anxious puppy eager to hide its treasure.

He heaved the explosive orb into the pit. Laban gingerly removed the safety pins, tossing them aside. As slowly and gently as he could, he covered the bomb with a thin layer of sand. Any sudden movements might reduce him to a fine, bloody mist in a cloud of sand. The covering was just enough to conceal the device, but still thin enough to detect any footsteps that might foolishly tread over it.

Laban looked over his shoulder. They were getting closer, but not close enough for them to be able to see what he was up to. He was counting on that. Laban did his best to conceal the fact that anything at all had been buried so that hopefully the War'acks would only be able to see his footprints in the sand and run headlong into the trap.