The Forgotten City Read Free Page B

in just one small square box, with strict instructions – never ever open this – ever. Eli’s love for his friend kept him to his word – but it was torturous. Saying something like that to an imp-breed would usually be followed by an instantaneous frenzy of box opening, but Eli liked to think of himself as a walking stereotype annihilation. He also liked to think of himself with three blonde pixie-breed sisters, but that was another story entirely. And another distraction.
    Eli brushed the dirt off his hands, adjusted his new weapon belt and walked out into the hangar.
    “Disable shields,” he said, shutting down the more experimental and advanced internal security that had protected everything inside the hangar from the ebomb blast. He stood surveying the scene before him and a smile crept across his dirt-smeared face.
    Underneath a spotlight’s glow, two transflyers stood side by side – two of the most incredible craft ever made. Eli flinched at his own rampant immodesty, but really it was a fact undeniable. These flyers were the genesis of a new era of craft-tech. Before the Monarchy, the Standard and the United Regiment had fallen at the beginning of the war, almost a year-cycle ago, sky legislation had dictated the lawful specifications of airborne vehicles, but these laws, along with all others, had now disintegrated into wartime anarchy. Which meant, in the case of aeronautics, designers could create without restraint, except that of their imagination and intellect – a small and precious freedom in a time of so much horror.
    On the right stood the almost completed Ory-5 . Beautiful she was not, but the newest Tracker team craft certainly fit the commander’s brief – make it fast, make it strong and do it now . Built with parts Eli had pilfered from a thousand different wrecks, the newest Ory was a masterpiece of speed, a force to rival even the fastest fighterflyer. Its specially treated alloy shell was reinforced with a forceshield boasting a nuclear withstanding strength. Basically, inside this craft the team were untouchable – at least against all modern weaponry. Magics were another matter entirely, but Eli was working on that. Parked beside the Ory-5 was Eli’s new personal flyer, to replace the much loved Summer Holiday . While the Ory-5 had been a product of necessity, this craft was a labor of love. It was only partially constructed, but already it had a name – the Gypsy Rose.
    “What do you think, girl?” Eli spoke to his pet otter, who had so far snored through the entire ordeal of breaking in. When Nelly didn’t stir, he peeked inside his pocket. She lifted her head and gave him a look of absolute indifference and unadulterated boredom, then immediately fell back asleep. Eli took it as a compliment. Then he realized that he was standing there grinning to himself while time raced him to the deadline. He had to finish the Ory-5 before the fight-in, which was – he checked his chronograph – only four hours away. It might as well have been four seconds, considering the amount of work still left to do.
    “Penman!” Eli called, his voice echoing into the vastness of the hangar as he ran to his tooling desk. “I need you!”
    A chirring beep sounded in response and two blue orbs appeared in one darkly shadowed corner. A machine-breed that looked like a mechanical flying squid zipped out to greet him, getting in his face and patting him enthusiastically all over the head with its long, dangling tendrils. Compared to Androts, the most advanced of the machine-breed race, a PenmanRamada0318 was an extremely basic robotic model. By the now defunct Laws, they had not even been classified “living”. But when Eli had found Penman hiding in the hangar, in fear of the Gangsters that were crushing every machine-breed they could find, he had looked into the little robot’s eyes and seen life. He’d seen fear, he’d seen confusion, hope, hunger – not just for food but company too – a