Sabotage

The hum of machinery drowned out the little noise Viking made as he worked his way in. Still, he kept his guard up: noise from enemy combatants would also be drowned out, and false moves could not be allowed. The machinery fascinated him, though, and it was difficult to pull himself away. Already he’d seen so much that was so familiar, yet different. It wasn’t the apparent developmental difference, either: it was how everything worked in the subtleties and nuances of their technology. He shook his head clear of the thoughts. Now was not the time. Now, he had a job to do.

He’d been in one of these airships before, a passenger model. The people here had a name for them, but he couldn’t let go of the Zeppelin name from home. Among other things. Instinctively, he slinked into the shadows. Faint voices were coming his way. Hard to distinguish how many with the ever-present machine hum. It wasn’t until they came into sight and he saw two dark-skinned men in tan uniforms. Viking grimaced.

What are Al-Khardi men doing so far from home? Shouldn’t the crew consist of Alkenians?

The why didn’t matter, he had a job to do. They were in his way. His hands gripped the axe handles hanging on his hip as the Khardis passed his hiding spot. With two swift simultaneous motions, they were down for good. Some minor effort and they were also well-hidden in the darkness. Speed was now needed. He left the engine room, moving ever-cautiously forward in the labyrinthine layout. The berthing cabin was easily identified and avoided because of the snores. Beyond there, he found the armory. Along the walls were suits of black armor, with red-lensed gas masks and large packs. Alkenian pyrosuits. Informative, but not what he was after. If this ship ran on hydrogen like the old models back home, they could be useful for the sabotage, if only one condition was different.

A town rested right next to the airship, populated with innocents; fathers, mothers, children. The ship couldn’t be allowed to reach the base, but not at their expense. He could already hear the phantom cries as fire rained down to consume their quaint little wooden homes. Parents calling for their children, boys trying in vain to pry their mothers from smoking rubble, little girls calling out for their fathers.... Where were they now? he wondered. Those two little faces stared up at him for the umpteenth time, clear and unaffected by the shadows around him. Their final question wormed its way into his conscious again. For the umpteenth time he shook his head clear of those thoughts. Now was not the time.

He stopped moving. Ladder. If he was correct, and he knew he was, that would lead up into the balloon part of the airship. How did the Hindenburg go down, again? A spark ignited a leak. He smiled, and if any of the Khardis could see him they would run screaming of the Devil-Jinn come to drag them down to Hell. They’d be right to do so. He wouldn’t need a spark to send them down, just a leak. He climbed the ladder, pausing only to ensure he would be alone. It was a large open space in there. His heart began beating faster. He’d never had the chance to be inside these internal workings before.

If only they could be here to see it.

No time was afforded for a fanciful thought to fester. The large bags on either end were obviously where the hydrogen was stored to adjust altitude. Metal walkways surrounded him, forming easy access around the inner workings. With the shape of the structure, the canvas shell should be easier to reach further along the one he was on. Still no noise could be heard, prompting him to move. His assessment was correct: the canvas was closer further down. He was a little past the halfway point, but the hydrogen still shouldn’t leak out until they were safely in the air. He climbed off the walkway so he was standing on the skeletal frame of the balloon. Down there the cut would be less obvious, especially if it was hidden directly beneath the walkway. He pulled out an axe, gently placing its blade against the fabric.

Viking froze. Oxygen would leak in. Except he was breathing, so oxygen was already in the balloon. He looked around to double check his surroundings. He wasn’t wrong about how this worked. The two giant bags stored hydrogen, and they were too small to achieve the needed lift. They had to empty out into the larger balloon. Some cycling system had to be in place to clean out the air in here for takeoff. He sighed in relief, then dragged his blade across the canvas. It was a small cut, and that’s all he needed. Nothing was overlooked.

Footsteps clanged on the metal above. Silently, Viking crept along the frame back toward the ladder. All the while, he payed attention to the footsteps. They were heading the same way as him. He didn’t want to kill again. It would be too difficult to hide the body up here. He stopped a few feet from the ladder and got into the best prone position he could. The frame did not make it easy. The footsteps continued up to the ladder, then stopped. Viking got ready. If the soldier went down the ladder, then he would need to kill him fast.

The footsteps started again, this time heading to the right. Good. Just a grunt checking on things in the balloon. He could continue keeping it simple. He made a quick peek below to ensure the coast was clear before jumping down. Landing on the balls of his feet, he wondered if there was another airship where Calhoun’s team went. It would be the smart thing to do. One descending on Drügeldorf was bad enough, two would only ensure their defeat. Especially if they were going to send in pyros to clear them out. How would the sergeant contend with it? He’d have to ask about it when he got back. Right now, he had to make his exit. He heard heavily-accented voices yelling up ahead.