Part 21
Instead they found the main floor of the Dragon City Security Precinct, usually filled with men and women in uniform processing the criminals. The main floor was really a vast lobby with long benches for those waiting to be arraigned or interrogated, desks and offices for the amount of labyrinthine bureaucracy required for the work. Now all of that sleek, white furniture lay in heaps against the tilted wall, the desks and chairs spilled out of the broken windows now covered in blood.
Here the tilt was more destructive as people clung to anything riveted to the floor, using the decorative edging in the wall to pull themselves to the elevators. A line of police and prisoner alike clung to each other, gripping hands or uniforms, somehow managing to drag themselves into the pneumatic tubes that slowly evacuated the the structure.
Too slowly. Artha could tell they would never get even half the people out before the Precinct tumbled through the air and crashed. Someone lost their footing and slipped, sliding across the floor toward the shattered windows. Artha moved without thinking, feeling a deep satisfaction as he managed at least to mag this one, pulling him to the wall so he could duck into a darkened office.
Only when he released the mag energy did he recognize the uniform and the dark red hair cut close. Captain Faier, commander of the whole Precinct, stood in the doorway, one shoulder bloodied and hanging uselessly, the other holding a snub-nosed pistol at his side.
"Dragon Booster!" Captain Faier coughed blood, wiping more from his forehead. "I thought you were on our side!"
"What?" Artha reeled at the accusation. "I am! Why would you—"
"I think it's 'cause I'm here," Moordryd said. "Not exactly the darling of the security forces, y'know?"
Artha started to say something only to be cut off by Captain Faier's shot—badly aimed and missing him by a wide margin, but enough to make him flinch.
"Security!" the captain yelled. "The dragon boosters are the enemy!"
Not many could hear him amidst the screaming and panic and tearing steel, but those who could now immediately turned and took aim. Outside, the dragons were beyond their firepower, but the two boosters among them were easy targets. Artha saw their frenzied looks and looked for an exit, only finding each staircase clogged with survivors with guns.
"We can't get up to the top," Artha despaired, "if we're fighting the whole station."
"Correction," Moordryd said, "we can't, but you can."
"What?" Artha said. "No, I'm not leaving you—"
"Relax, I'll be fine," Moordryd said, turning and facing the captain with flaming eyes that narrowed in focus. "I've been itching for this for ages. You get up to the top and do whatever it is heroes do."
As Moordryd raised a shield around himself and Decepshun, they also sent out a mag pulse that pushed Beau across the floor to a broken elevator tube. Its entrance and pod lay in pieces on the floor, but it was more than wide enough for Beau to begin climbing. Carried along with no say in the matter, Artha looked over his shoulder until they left the level.
He was relieved to see Moordryd only drawing their fire, not returning it, and the few mag bursts he let fly went to breaking off large sections of the inner walls that conveniently fell and covered the gaping holes in the windows. Their thief may have wanted to lash out at the security forces, but he wasn't letting that spite control him.
"Don't let them hit you," Artha said over their helmet frequency. As Beau cleared the next floor, using mag inversions to boost themselves along, he heard Moordryd laugh once.
"Are you kidding? I've been wanting to toss around these scale-scrapers for years."
The rest of the way didn't take long. When they cleared the top floor, Artha blasted the side of the elevator open, and Beau stepped along the roof to the very edge. The mass of dragons—small red pursuit dragons, powerful green jail dragons, blue transport dragons still in their harnesses—lay before him, attacking the Precinct that had once housed them. They still had a way to go before they could truly rip the structure free, but he had no doubt they would continue until everyone on this level was dead. No one could stop them.
Except maybe a dragon of legend.
"So what exactly do heroes do?" Artha murmured, patting the side of Beau's neck. "Got any ideas?"
With a confident whuff, Beau gathered his strength and turned his energy inward, focusing himself. Here was the reason that he and Artha needed to climb all this way. Here, at the highest point, they could see all the dragons beneath them, and their energy could touch.
At first they were small and unnoticeable in the darkness. Then Beau's energy burned bright and expanded outward in a pulse, joined by Artha's dimmer but no less intense power. Like waves washing over the shore, their energy rolled over the people in the Precinct, the dragons outside.
Nothing happened. The dragons roared at the strange sensation moving past them, snapping at the air. Inside the Precinct, no one even noticed amidst the Shadow Booster's attacks, shouting as he tore pistols and rifles from their hands, tossed security officials away from floors just before they cracked open. Despite the danger, the Shadow Booster and his dragon both audibly snickered and laughed, infuriating anyone close enough to hear them.
And then the power failed, leaving the Precinct in utter darkness. At first they became aware of a vague red and green glow from outside, but that was drowned out by a wave of gold that moved by like rays of sunlight. Another followed, then another, giving them enough light to see the evacuation route, to clamber into tubes still fueled by outside electricity. They stopped firing at the Shadow Booster who seemed to vanish.
Without the humming machinery or fired shots, the station became eerily silent. The cries and yells became smaller, isolated, dwindling into frightened cries and murmurs. The pneumatic hisses of each pod told them how fast the evacuation was actually going, and the constant moving served to calm those waiting in lines.
Outside, the snarling and snapping and scraping steel raged as before. Hearing the struts bending until their groans became high pitched was only more terrifying. But it also let the energy of the golden dragon stand out that much more, and wave after wave slowly eased the blind self-destructive need of the dragons. The anger didn't fade, the indignity couldn't be washed away so easily—but the willingness to die and to condemn their own comrades began to dull. Dragons lifted their heads, looking at where they stood, at what they were actually doing to each other.
They smelled the blood of other dragons and realized that many were dead by their own actions.
Following Beau's route, Decepshun climbed out of the elevator tube, walking to the gold dragon's side. She sighed, looking out over the darkness, squinting at the green and red light glowing dimly from below.
Moordryd sighed with her, following her look.
"I don't know, either," he said. "Girl...do you feel kinda...?"
She whuffed once in agreement, shaking her head as if something was clouding her mind. On her saddle, Moordryd winced and didn't complain. The gold energy moved through them as well, bringing with it a deep sense of comfort. Camaraderie. Togetherness.
Parmon's thin voice came through their helmets.
"Is that it?" he asked. "Did you do it?"
"Maybe?" Moordryd said. "Stable brat's doing this weird energy pulse thing and the dragons have stopped trying to kill everyone. Still...Precinct's pretty messed up."
"I think we can begin to fix that," Parmon said. "If nothing else—"
On cue, a major support beam snapped. A jagged edge jutted out from the middle of the Precinct, the ragged end swinging out as a single dragon lost its footing, sliding off with a frightened squawk. The Precinct itself swung several degrees, jolting to a halt as emergency struts began to turn rigid. With the motion, a handful of officers slipped screaming from the upper floor.
Artha and Beau leaped, the dragon's wings flaring out so that they could glide on air currents. From the corner of his eye, Artha saw Decepshun jump, their fall more haphazard as she leaped, wingless, from broken strut to strut.
The fall ended faster than Artha expected. He managed to catch the officers along one mag stream and land them and himself on a lattice of red energy that hadn't been there before.
Spread like a cat's cradle across the entire level, thin cords of red draconium energy criss-crossed the empty air, forming a surface as rigid as any floor. If Artha squinted, he could make out the green draconium anchoring each cord like glue, welding the red draconium to the steel walls.
"Wow..." he breathed. "Kitt, are you—"
"Don't distract me," she said, her voice as taut as her energy. "Don't—"
Artha cut off the signal to her before she finished, understanding. He wouldn't risk even stray chatter breaking her focus.
"She can't hold this forever," Parmon said as he rode closer, refusing to look down. "It was tricky even building it. If we don't get off of it soon—"
His voice trailed. Artha frowned, turning to see what he was staring at. And his own mouth parted slightly.
The dragons were picking their way gingerly down the tubes and shafts, landing on the draconium net and facing off with the security forces. The police reached for guns that they no longer had, having dropped them long ago, easy targets for the growing number of their former mounts.
And Decepshun stood beside the dragon she had caught, amidst the crowd of dragons that was slowly coalescing into a small army. Her rider, with armor streaked by gunfire, his eyes glowing like the dragons around him, faced the humans as well. No one could mistake which side Moordryd stood with. Of a dozen falling humans and one falling dragon, Decepshun and her rider had been in complete agreement, counting the dragon's life as far weightier.
"Are..." Parmon whispered. "Are they going to start fighting again?"
Artha's jaw tightened.
"Beau...let's do this."
Without any hesitation in his step, Beau crossed the field to stand only a few lengths ahead of the army standing against him. They met Decepshun's gaze, glanced around for any other dragons willing to step forward, then realized that the flight was letting her stand in front as a leader.
"The Fire Booster is holding this energy field together," he called out loud enough that the dragons and humans both heard him. "But she can't hold it up forever. Everyone needs to get to safety."
He waved his hand at the maintenance and transport tunnels around them.
"There's plenty of room for everyone to head to the different levels...if you're willing to stop fighting."
The humans behind him scoffed, and one of them—Captain Faier again, Artha saw—took a step to set himself apart.
"They attacked the Precinct without warning," he said, coughing blood. "They'll charge us the moment we turn our backs."
The dragons growled, their tails snapping back and forth in agitation. Decepshun barked a short laugh, which Moordryd echoed.
"The dragons say the same," Moordryd said.
"They attacked out of nowhere," Captain Faier said, his voice streaked with deep betrayal. "My own Yuunitee...she almost bit my head off. Why? Where is she?"
More growls as the dragons conferred. Decepshun partly turned to look over her shoulder, and after a moment, she decided that she'd heard enough, grunting once. At her prompting, her rider answered for them.
"Dead," Moordryd said. "In resisting the humans' slavery of a thousand years. They only regret that they were killing themselves as well."
Captain Faier fell silent, stricken, turning from the others. Behind him, a lieutenant, her uniform torn and bloodied, came forward several paces until the dragons growled in warning. Close enough.
"That's it?" she asked. "Sekurity? You've saved my life twice...and then this?"
A blue dragon ducked his head and did not answer, neither looking at her nor the other dragons. Silence followed for a moment, underscored by the popping electricity and groaning steel above them.
"Will you let each other go?" Artha asked, looking at both humans and dragons. "Or are you going to fight until you fall into the darkness?"
"...they've killed people," Captain Faier said. He glared over his shoulder, wishing his stare could force them to look away instead of facing him calmly. "They've killed dragons."
Again the dragons snarled in conference. Again Decepshun listened, and Moordryd translated.
"They will again," Moordryd said, "if they have to."
Another silence, this time broken by Parmon's insistence that Kitt was nearing her limits. Artha gave an explosive sigh and started to back away. Let the stupid adults fight if they wanted to.
"The Fire Booster can't hold it any longer. If you want to fight, then be ready to fall."
He looked at Moordryd, waiting for him to come. Instead Decepshun turned, roaring at the pack of dragons behind her, spreading out her paws as if she meant to force them to retreat. At her look, the dragons turned tail and galloped out of sight. She glanced over her shoulder at Artha, then ran after the dragons, taking Moordryd with her.
Artha felt a hand grip his heart, sending cold chills through him. There hadn't been any expression through Moordryd's mask. His friend had stared at him blankly.
Beneath him, Beau brought the humans in the other direction. They stepped up off of the field onto a maintenance shaft, joining Parmon.
"Where is she?" Artha asked.
"I last saw her and Wyldfyre near the center," Parmon said.
"The center? Is she nuts? The Precinct could fall—"
"It was going to fall regardless," Parmon said, a satisfied note filling his voice. "Watch. We hatched an idea together..."
There was a burst of draconium energy as the lines of the net suddenly came together, humming as weaker strings merged together, strengthening as fewer and fewer remained. When they could only see two major lines left, both of them blazing red, they realized that the green anchor points were also sliding into position, joining each other into two bright spots. One string of draconium slid up under the Precinct, then pulled taut, supporting much of its weight.
"See how she's moving my energy around by herself," Parmon said. "This is her real ability, I think. The fire is just her main weapon—but fire is energy and so is draconium."
Artha frowned slightly. "But...then what does the Energy Booster do that's different?"
Parmon shrugged. "We won't know until we see more of his power. But—"
"Hey boys."
On a single line of draconium that stretched from the floor to an unseen point in the darkness, Kitt and her dragon strolled down like casual high wire artists, standing on the slender thread without any worries.
"Not bad, huh?" She looked over her shoulder. "Figure me and Wyldfyre can hold this up as long as it takes 'em to get the place tacked down."
"It isn't too much?" Artha asked. "You're holding it all up."
"Nah, it's still pretty stuck in place," she said. "A lot of the supports were snapped, but a lot of them are still up, too. Besides, it's really the green energy that's holding it in one spot. Otherwise it'd be vibrating like a string."
Parmon grinned at the recognition. "No problem. It practically holds itself."
"Can..." Artha couldn't fathom the strength holding the entire Precinct in place, even if only a fraction of its weight for a fraction of time. "Can you really leave it like that?"
"What? Oh, heck no," she said. "I'm gonna have to babysit this thing for awhile. If I go, the whole thing goes. Parm—um, Power Booster, too. He's gotta help me keep this thing steady. You, on the other hand..."
She paused, scanning the darkness around her. "Hey, where's Payne in the scales?"
"He..." Artha sighed. "I don't know what the heck happened, but I need to go find him. Are you going to be okay down here?"
Kitt looked past him to Captain Faier who was beginning to sag against the young officer's shoulder.
"Hey—how soon are people gonna come start fixing this?"
The officer glanced at Faier, figured he wasn't going to answer, and hefted him up slightly to better take his weight.
"We'd already called for help," she said. "There should already be engineers and mechanics coming, long distance technicians. But...if their dragons are going nuts, too..."
"I don't think so," Parmon reasoned. "There's been no further shaking of the megastructure and there was no sign of violence from the dragons in Midcity. Whatever happened...happened here."
"And no one knows what that is?" Artha asked.
The officer shook her head once. "Sorry...Sekurity got real quiet for a moment, and then he just started biting all of a sudden."
None of it made sense, and Artha found himself thinking more about the concrete problem that he could make sense of—what to do about Decepshun and Moordryd. Loathe to leave his friends behind, at their assurances, he turned tail and helped escort the humans to the very edge of the megastructure's walls where emergency lights and stairs gave them a place to wait for help.
The way back to the top level took longer than he expected—so many elevators had been snapped that he and Beau had to sit on top of a utility freight lift. Designed for moving tons of motors and gears, it had been too sturdy to be destroyed, but it also moved at a painfully slow pace. An hour passed, then two, as they napped in shifts, keeping an ear out as they stood guard.
Every call he sent out to Moordryd went unanswered.
"A Payne will lie to you," Artha said softly, "but he can't help but show you the truth."
But what had Moordryd shown him? That he had chosen the other side? Or that he would do whatever Decepshun demanded? Or some third option Artha hadn't thought of?
Of all the worst possibilities he could imagine—that Moordryd had returned to Armeggadon, that he had betrayed them for the dragons, that he had been killed under their fangs, that he had been found by Word—what he hadn't expected was to find Decepshun by the Penn Stables gate, Moordryd in her saddle, simply waiting for him to return.
Beau realized something was wrong before Artha did, stopping in his tracks. Artha pet his side, asking what was wrong, then understood the worry in his dragon's eyes.
Moordryd and Decepshun were at rest, breathing hard—and breathing in sync. As Decepshun took in a breath, so did her rider, so completely in tune that it couldn't have been coincidence. Moordryd's grip on his saddle was white-knuckled and trembled with unseen effort while his dragon braced herself, legs out, as if she might fall. Neither he nor Decepshun moved, but they both lifted their gaze up toward Artha. Their eyes moved the same, blinked the same, wordlessly pleading with the same fear.
TBC...