Rebel Skyforce (Mad Tinker Chronicles) Read Free

airship down. I need some of it.”
    Chipmunk took a hammer to one of the wing struts and bashed at it until one end came loose, then worked it back and forth until the other end broke free. She hobbled around to the far side and repeated it on the wing strut on that side as well. A group of soldiers from the thunderail looters arrived to help haul the airship away when she finished.
    Tobson and Swails returned with a set of thick velvet drapes in hand, the brass rings from the curtain rod still jangling from the top end. It was better than Chipmunk had hoped. The two mechanics laid the curtain out flat on the turf.
    “Good. Lay Delane on there. Line him up right there,” she pointed with the end of her crutch. Chipmunk lowered herself down on the side opposite the brass rings and drew a pocket knife. She slit the velvet at intervals, large enough for the strut to feed through.
    “Wrap it up and thread the strut through the whole thing.”
    She was glad she’d brought mechanics along instead of soldiers. Mechanics got how things worked without having to be beaten over the head. They knew how the stretcher would look in the end: like a trussed pig.
    In the distance, she could see the cargo from the thunderail being ferried onto the Jennai and the Cloudsmith . The wrecked liftwing was already well on its way to the vacu-dirges by the time Delane was ready to be moved. There was little else for the rebels to do except get the wounded pilot and their general back aboard before they left. Chipmunk checked her pocketclock again.
    “Damn! They’ll have missed the thunderail at the next siding by now. Someone’s bound to have sent a cable about it. It’s just a matter of time before Ruttania’s air force gets here.”
    Tobson muttered something to Sosha that Chipmunk couldn’t make out as she limped along on her crutch, trying to keep pace. Sosha traded places with the burly mechanic and took one end of the stretcher.
    “Sorry ‘bout this, ma’am,” Tobson apologized on his way over to Chipmunk.
    “Sorry about what?”
    Tobson lowered a shoulder to Chipmunk’s midsection and hoisted her over his shoulder in one fluid motion. He took the crutch from her with his free hand. “Ain’t got time to pretend you can walk, is all.”

Chapter 2
    “You may have a man bought and paid for, but you’re as good as his once he realizes you can’t get by without him.” –Kezudkan Graniteson
    The lift from the trolley levels opened into an above-ground cavern of steel and glass. Pale light filtered in from the smoggy skies outside, green in hue from chemicals in the air. Gantries and chain hoists spanned the aisles between machines, all whizzing, whirring, clanking, and humming according to their multitudinous functions. Kezudkan had seen such machines before, and judged the ones in this factory to be top of the line.
    “Right this way sir,” his escort said. The pudgy kuduk with the grease-stained hands toddled off ahead down the main corridor of the factory floor. Kezudkan grunted in reply and ambled along behind him. He carried his cane as a walking stick, tapping it gently on the floor in time with his stride. His joints had been better of late; the petrification of his knee was working itself loose with all the walking he’d done in the past month. He had never attributed his condition to idleness, but suspected otherwise now. He was still none too swift afoot.
    “Hold up. I’m not the young daruu I once was,” Kezudkan grumbled, not caring whether his escort heard him or not. He needed neither guide nor nanny. He continued at his own pace as the kuduk left him behind.
    Kezudkan peered at the workers and their projects as he passed by. They were building valves and pumps, casings and enclosures, sprockets, chains, and gears. It was hard to find good gear-makers, so the latter spoke of a quality operation—but Kezudkan had already known that. He hadn’t traveled all the way to Cavinstraw Deep in Grangia on a