There it was. The Iron Maiden. You couldn't miss it; a huge, dull grey behemoth. Even against the ash grey of the landscape, it stood out, hanging in the air. Even from here, Eddie could here the thrum of the engines. putting a rawhide cord through the loops inside his hat, Eddie let it hang at his neck. "Remember how to work that thing like I showed ya, Duke?"
"Yeah, man." Duke was sat in the seat of the chunky turret-like contraption bolted to the back of their Crawler, aiming through the cross hairs. "Got it." He yanked the lever and there was a sound like a drumbeat as the grapple hook was launched at the maiden. The drum of three inch thick metal cord started spinning. There was a dull thud as the grapple hook hit its mark. With the engines holding the ship stationary, the sound, if anybody heard it, would be indistinguishable from the occasional pops and bangs of the ship's hull settling.
Standing in his seat, Eddie checked his gun, and then took a hold of the metal cord and began shimmying up. After several minutes, he was standing atop the ship. Suddenly there was a crack like a gunshot. He thumbed his radio. "Shit, Duke, what was that?"
"The cord's broke. The ship musta moved and stretched it!"
"That doesn't seem right, I'd have felt the movement. Besides, there was plenty cord left in the barrel."
"Well how'd you explain it?"
"Whatever, whatever. Doesn't change much. We were planning to ditch that Crawler anyway. You might as well take it to the nearest dome and wait for me."
"Sure thing, boss."
Grumbling to himself, Eddie found the ventilation shaft at the top of the ship. The large grate was well fixed in place, but didn't stand up to being punched in with his metal hand. Swinging himself in legs first, Eddie braced himself on the sides, and began working down. Soon, he was inside the inner workings of the ship, crawling through the vents. They were surprisingly well lit at sections from the light shining through the grates from the ship's proper interior. He paused one point, reading a message etched into one of the panels.
'Ruffles was here.' What a strange nickname. Shrugging, he crawled on, headed down again, and kept going. Eventually, he found what he was looking for. The engine room. Kicking in the grate, he slipped out, falling lithely into a crouching position. The engine room was deserted. Shrugging, he made his exit, moving quickly and quietly. When he got outside into the hallway, however, there was a red haired man leaning against the wall, smoking. The cigarette fell from the man's mouth as he gaped in absolutely baffled surprise.
"Howdy," said Eddie as he seized the man by the shoulder with one hand and used the other to slam his head against the wall twice. The man fell limp, and Eddie moved on. The rest of the lower level was fairly deserted. On his way up, he had noted the Maiden's watch post was currently unoccupied. That seemed strange, but it told him something: Anyone on board was likely in the middle deck. As ill luck would have it, as he was coming to the stairs to go up a level, he saw another crew member. While Eddie was at the bottom, this man was at the top. The man was an oddity, with a wild blonde mane. But that wasn't what caught Eddie's eye. It was the stick of dynamite in his hand. The man saw Eddie, and Eddie saw the man. Eddie saw the man's dynamite, and the man saw Eddie's shortened carbine, and large bowie knife. Suddenly a battered zippo lighter was in the man's other hand, complimenting the stick of dynamite rather worryingly.
"Ah, shit..."
The lighter was flicked. The flame appeared. The dynamite was in movement. But so was Eddie's hand. Twin gunshots echoed loudly in the confined space. Loud enough to be heard through the walls. The strange blonde man went sprawling with a hole in his throat and an eye blown out. The lit stick of dynamite clattered to the ground. The moment the hiss of the fuse started, Eddie was running, and his boot came down, snuffing out the explosive before it could go off. "Jesus..."
He'd hoped he could get shit done without killing any of them, but that guy had forced his hand. At least it could lure out the Captain if she were aboard.
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Ruffles finished the last touches on his signal booster and sat back. Done. What he had was a crude metal box filled with an assortment of complex wiring. Coming out of the top was the wire coat hanger, twisted out of shape and into a crude, spiraling areal. Out of one side was plastic tubing, connected to a glass bottle filled with a solution that was not burnt orange. Lumps of carbon could be seen pooling at the bottom.
"Bennie, it's ready. Ain't it beautiful?"
