FSE

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A thunder, like a falling tree, echoed over the dark deck. Smooth, scaled hands rolled the parchment gently, tenderly; obscuring the neat cut lines of his sketch. Rising fluidly, the figure clambered rapidly from the hollow housing a small freight lifter, and peered back into the gloom, wisps of cloud thronging the containers. ‘No Lights.' The far-off rear, the bridge of the Hauler's Engine, normally basked in the gentle glow of the high hung lamps was barely lit, and all had grown silent. His tail flicked in irritation and confusion. He began to stroll quickly, rearward across the cool metal, claws clicking softly, the only sound in the balmy calm of the night.

His quiet hollow rested far from the main cabins at the rear, the walk was a lengthy one, and he clapped his hands together for warmth as he walked, disturbing the brooding quiet.

At length he reached the central deck catwalk, the high-up pathway that ran above the centre of the containers, and began to climb the wooden steps, eyes attacking the gloom, trying to make out what was going on. As, panting from the long climb, he mounted the walkway; he paced quietly through through the throng of creaking ropes and groaning beams supporting the skein above him. The storm lanterns were out on the walkway, all was dark, so he stepped cautiously, avoiding an unwelcome fall.

He heard voices, drifting ghostly through the breeze. The long stretch of wood continued to leer up from the thin fog as he kept his pace up, heart quickening. A soft thump, a flower of sound cut through the night. His steps slowed as screams began to pierce the air, shouts of anger, confusion and fear.

Stopping, gripping the aged wood of the handrail, the lizard's eyes narrowed, his heart thudding in his ears. The yells continued, quieting slightly, replaced by the chatter of some hidden crowd; and flickering orange light became visible through the mist. ‘Fire' He suppressed any panic and walked further forward, breaking into a smooth run, tail flicking behind him, balancing his frame.

As he ran along the seemingly endless walkway, he hissed gently. Far beneath him, suddenly, he heard shouts, running footsteps echoing across the metal. He thrust his head over the railing, and peered down desperately, but could make out little. He caught sight of a group of people, running, illuminated by a dim floor-light, before they vanished again.

He waited, tense, pulse racing, looking out like some hawk perched above a valley, watching for prey. He could see nothing, and cursed the fog curling around him. Finally, he heard a retort, and saw a flash of red light far away on the port railing. He couldn't see the source of the light itself, but it reflected off of the walls of the high containers thronging the deck. He ran onward toward the rear of the ship, glancing up at the balloon swaying above him, huge in the gloom.

Running for what seemed perversely like hours, past the mid-mast and onward, he came finally to the abrupt end of the walkway, looming out of the mist. The sight before him stopped him in his tracks. The proud, rugged bridge of the airship Hauler's Engine lay beneath the ruined rear tether mast. The command deck was utterly destroyed.

The mast, which usually pierced the catwalk, and had rested toward the back of the maindeck, in front of the bridge; had ripped the far end of the walkway to the deck like paper torn in half. The lights on the mast were destroyed, emitting the occasional spark as broken tether ropes hung like macabre bunting from the balloon above, which was now barely attached to the rear of the ship, held only by the thick stern hawser.

The bridge itself had collapsed inward under the huge, falling mast, and the lizard tensed, standing on the brink of the destruction. He tore his gaze away, to the source of the voices; a huddle of figures on the starboard side of the wrecked bridge, fighting a fire, nearly out. Their confused voices and shouts echoed up to him. They seemed tiny, like toys, from his high vantage on the gantry, milling about confusedly as the flickering flames died at last. He stood, heart thudding.

Suddenly he was thrown to his feet, as his world seemed to explode around him. A roar, like a fist of sound, dropped from above, pushing him with a smack to the broken end of the twisted walkway, He was nearly thrown to the tattered wreckage below, and his long tail whipped out, gripping the railings as he scrabbled for balance. Dragging himself to safety, to the swaying boards beneath him; he looked up, head ringing, the entire walkway rocking.

The port side of the balloon, invisible from his vantage hugging the skein's underside, had apparently been blown away; tattered, flaming debris fell like confetti, lighting the dark. He trembled as he rested on his hands and knees, ears ringing, the shouts of those below echoing up as if he were underwater. A cloud of burning fragments, carried by the wind, blew about him like fireflies, pricking at his black hide.

Forcing himself, he rose, gripping the rail, and without looking down, he began to run, as swift as he was able, breathing heavily, feet thudding on the still wobbling catwalk, towards the fore of the ship, and the salvation of the far off lifeboats. Sounds, of flickering flame and shots, echoed about him, and the light of crimson flares, arcing up from the port rail into the dark sky.

After an eternity of running, he stopped, wheezing, crouched by the end steps of the walkway, gasping for breath. Flares cast a ghostly red light over the scene, and he clenched his fists, keeping himself calm, tail coiled tightly about his waist. He looked back, and saw a spurt of flame gush from the cut balloon, spiralling debris into the night fog.

He hurried on, down the steps, his path illuminated by dim, orange, floor level bulbs; as the ship seemed to shudder beneath him. He could see no one about, and walked briskly towards the forward balconies. The balconies were the only route around the frontal containers, one on each side, and formed metre wide gantries allowing access to the lifeboats hanging from the ships prow. He glanced about him, nervous, cautious.

He turned the corner to the starboard balcony and stopped, eyes wide, hissing. A huge cargo box, somehow released from it's clamps, lay across the balcony. And for whatever reason, razor tape and wire were strung from it to railings and posts. He walked forward, looking for routes to climb, face locked in confusion and rage. He found none, the surfaces were smooth, the box covered the entire width of the balcony and more, hanging into space, and the razor tape formed an impenetrable barrier.

‘What the hell is going on?' He stamped once, frustrated, turned back and sprinted toward the starboard side of the ship, retracing his steps to the forward junction, overshadowed by the dark, looming containers. In the maze of the giant boxes, all had grown quiet and dark, and he heard only his blood coursing as his claws thudded off of the metal deck. The soft glow of the sparse deck lighting reflected from his black scales.

Pulling himself around the corner, he stopped, eyes wild, breathing heavy. The same obstacle, almost mirrored in some cruel duplicate, lay across the other side of the ship. The wall was just as insurmountable as that on the port side.

"AGH!" He yelled out, a shout of denied rage, and look about him for some means of escape. Pacing back and forth rapidly, he stared about him, willing the dark to reveal some path. Suddenly, red flares curled up from the starboard side, and a route became evident. He ran on.

Stopping, out of breath, suppressing his rising panic, he stared up at the spindly tower, clicking his teeth, considering. He put his slender hands to the first, rusted rung and began to climb, tenderly, his tail securing him by grasping a rung high above. The red flares glinted off of his dark scales, silhouetting the crane, thronged with mist.

The ascent seemed long, and he looked through the girders of the crane, trying to discern what was happening further back on the deck as his hands continued the motions, pulling him up one rung at a time. He felt a heavy tremor shake the ship, the balloon above the crane's peak groaning. He quickened his climb.

Hauling his sleek body, becoming ever more tired, onto the cabin floor, he panted, looking down. He swung himself into the seat of the crane, leather creaking beneath him, and considered the controls.

They appeared simple, two ornate brass levers and a hand crank, with a series of small, labelled buttons. He jabbed a large, green one reading "Operate" And with a hum, the crane flickered into life, lights clicking on in the cabin, and highlighting the tower. He hissed, unwilling to be such an obvious beacon to those onboard, especially considering the mayhem that was going on. He hit a second button, labelled "Lights" And the incandescent bulbs winked out.

He peered down, at his goal far below, and began to manoeuvre the crane, guiding it's pendulous grabber toward the tangled barricade on the port side. The tower swung dispiritingly, and the gears gave soft groans, the thrum of the crane's engine rumbling in his ears.

Rapidly the grabber was positioned above the crate, and he turned the crank quickly, face locked in concentration, till the grip contacted with the blockage with a hollow clang that resounded across the entire ship. He hissed yet again.

Pressing another button, the grip's jaws began to shut, enclosing the metal with a soft creak. Heart racing, he began to turn the crank back as a sheet of glowing material flapped past the cabin, burning slowly.

His entire body locked up in panic as a loud scream of tortured steel cascaded over his ears. The crate hung a bare foot over the decking, and yet already the beam was bending worryingly. He desperately pulled a lever, to swing the crate out over the night.

He watched, his stomach sinking, as the grabber detached smoothly, with a crack of cable, from the beam, sending the tower springing back, near throwing him from his perch. He held on for dear life, tail swishing in blind horror. The giant crate fell smoothly, with clicks of breaking wire, to the balcony, and did not stop.

With a shattering crunch, that bounced back across the airship several times, the balcony was torn from it's mountings, ripping beams of wood and metal free, falling swiftly into space, gouging a hole in the ship's hull as it dropped, wood snapping and splintering, steel plates screaming.

The reptile was wordless, stunned, as he looked at the broken crane, cable hanging useless. He was trapped, and for a moment panic threatened to overcome him, but with a violent stab at the "Disable" button the crane silenced, and he began to descend rapidly, not willing to give up.

He reached the deck once more, as it shuddered worryingly beneath his feet. He ran to the broken balcony, and peered into the abyss, mist thronging around the hole. The splintered metal decking was festooned with the dangling razor tape, the hole was a good ten metres across if not more, and it was clear there was no way across. He turned and hurried rearward; only with assistance could he escape this nightmare.

He mounted the catwalk stairs again, looking down for someone to work with, someone to help cross that infernal barricade. A minute's frantic lookout spotted a huddle of three creatures, running through the aisles of the crates, and biting his lip for a moment, slung himself from the stairway, his tail assisting a rapid climb down to the group. He called out.

"Hey! Hey, help!" He hit the deck, maintaining his balance, and approached the trio, waving, walking quickly toward them. They stopped, wary, a large panther in front of the group holding out a hand.

"What's going on?!" He called out, golden eyes distrustful. The lizard opened his hands in a gesture of peace, walking slowly closer.

"Hell if I know. I can't get to the front of the ship, the lifeboats are blocked off, what's happened back there?"

The cat shook his head. "We don't know, I couldn't get to the rear lifeboats either, one of the masts has fallen over. Isn't there any way forward? Who are you?"

The lizard curled his tail around his waist, red armpit scales glinting as he gestured. "I'm Michael. I saw the mast. There's some sort of barricade on the starboard side, but the port side's totally broken. We might have a chance of shifting starboard if we can find some tools. It's not simple stuff, someone's strung out a load of razor wire, I can't get my hands into it safely.

The panther nodded. "I'm Tomas. These two are Alex and Jenny." He gestured to two rabbits behind him, a male and a female, faces locked in determination. The male held a crowbar. "Alex grabbed that when we heard all the shouts, I think someone's caused this. You saw the balloon explode?"

Michael looked at the metal bar. "That might do. I know, something's foul about all of this. Come on, we haven't got long, the ship must be going down." As if on cue, another rocking shudder bucked the deck, and with a muffled roar, fire gushed from somewhere toward the rear of the ship, rushing towards the obscured stars.

The four furs watched, faces illuminated by the fiery glow, before Alex began to jog ahead, tugging Jenny by an arm. "Come on!" He yelled. "I don't know where we're going!" Michael turned and ran after them, pointing to starboard. They hurried on.

They worked swiftly, unspeaking, tugging at the lengths of wire and pulling them aside. The job was painstaking, and all four bore cuts within a few minutes. They exchanged wordless glances as they heard shouts and screams, preceded by an enormous crash from further back the ship, and worked furiously as voices echoed out to them from somewhere to port, made ghostly by the metal walls of the crates.

A gigantic explosion, far larger than the earlier blast from the balloon, split the night from the rear of the ship, and all four cowered, gripping the deck, as a pillar of fire and debris flew up, chunks of huge propeller and wooden beams clear against the harsh light. Suddenly it was as if the entire ship was burning, fire rushing forward, gushing up in plumes from unseen blazes below decks. They pulled frantically.

As the fire encroached ever further forward, growing louder and louder in their ears, the group finally pulled away the last strands of wire, and began to climb the box, helping each other, pulling and tugging. Michael reached the top first, tugging Alex, who sported the most cuts of anyone, having plunged fearlessly into the task, atop the crate. The other pair joined them, and Alex leapt from the other side first, rolling. The reptile followed.

Smoke was curling around the crates now, the sick orange light growing by the second. As the rabbit and lizard stepped forward, they heard a terrible groan. They turned, hearts sinking, as the crate, with Jenny atop it, and Tomas just having jumped clear, broke the balcony's strength, and split the wood on which it rested. Jenny fell, with a wordless mask of horror, into the dark, and Alex screamed, a desperate roar of anguish as the crate clipped Tomas on it's descent, pulling him downward.

The smoke and dust clouded their eyes as both lizard and lapine rushed forward. Tomas clung to the lip of broken wood, and they pulled him up. The rabbit let out a low moan.

Tomas's legs were gone below the knee, and his thighs were a mess of splintered flesh. His eyes were glazed over, his breaths ragged. He trembled in shock, and did not speak. A tear dropped to the wooden surface, as Alex shook his head in desperation, the lizard was merely frozen in fear.

The panther coughed, blood spattering the boards, and Michael pushed the rabbit onward. "We can't save him Alex..." The lapine let out a cry of guilt and shame. Michael pushed him again, and turned back to the broken panther, the crowbar lying by it's side. The reptile reached for the metal bar.

Alex trembled as the crunch cut through the roar of the on-rushing flames, and heard the clang as the crowbar was dropped. The lizard pulled him onward, rushing toward the lifeboats, merely a door away. The fore-deck was burning now, and wisps of ash curled around the desolate pair.

Through tear filled eyes, both saw a lifeboat, flares arcing from it, drifting away through the breeze. From above them, cries and screams could be heard, and some pour soul was caught atop the foremast, flames licking around the mast at him, trapped. They turned away; stomachs sick, pushed open the emergency forward fire-wall door, and stepped out onto the prow.

Most of the six boats were gone or destroyed. Two remained, one neatly hooked, one a mess of broken ropes and a missing balloon. Looking hopelessly upward, the pair jumped into the final boat. Michael pulled at the balloon handle, and air rushed upward with a thump, filling the skin, flickering in the red glare. Alex tugged the release catch, and with a soft creak the boat fell away safely, rising slowly, the pair aboard hugging each other in pain and triumph.

A crack split the air, and the boat lurched sickeningly. Sparks and flame gushed downward. Michael looked up desperately, back at the flaming skeleton of the Hauler's Engine. The figure atop the mast was firing flares, directly at them, his anguished screams splitting the night. A second flare curved over them, missing, and both creatures aboard the boat screamed back in wordless terror.

The third shot split their balloon asunder. Fire curled around them, ropes whipping in the wind, and they fell, a screaming pirouette to the trees far below. The lapine and the reptile held each other in their arms, weeping, a desperate final contact; till their lights were snuffed out in the fiery dark.