High above the vast fortress of Goldenclaws HQ, the sky began to cooperate with the drama.

  Low, heavy clouds gathered directly over the mountains concealing the complex, layering thick and slow like a deliberate decision rather than an accident. A light rain followed—steady, cold, and persistent—darkening the stone above and soaking everything unfortunate enough to be exposed.

  The fortress hangar bay itself remained untouched, buried deep below ground.

  ---

  Langley, BICH Headquarters

  In the BICH command center, operators moved between stations with practiced efficiency. Status updates scrolled across multiple screens. Live feeds flickered between exterior surveillance, internal schematics, and the primary drone view hovering above Goldenclaws HQ.

  At the center of the room, Mo and Janet stood side by side, silently watching.

  On the main monitor, light rain streaked across the drone camera as it hovered above the hidden fortress. In a smaller window, Solo and Stan could be seen observing the same feed from a secure remote location.

  After several seconds, Solo spoke.

  “Who’s the woman on the audio feed?”

  Janet didn’t take her eyes off the screen.

  “A Goldenclaws airship captain,” she replied. “She was captured when our operatives seized one of the enemiy's airships.”

  Solo nodded slowly. “She sounds competent.”

  “Seems that way,” Stan agreed. “Based on what we’ve heard so far.”

  Solo glanced at him. “Thinking of recruiting her?”

  “Maybe,” Stan said evenly. “But that’s assuming they make it out.”

  A pause.

  “Alive.”

  Before the conversation could continue, a nearby BICH officer turned sharply in his chair.

  “Ma’am,” he reported, “weather update over the target zone. Rain and cloud density keeps increasing.”

  Janet finally looked away from the monitor. “Any impact on our assets?”

  “Not the drones,” the officer answered. “But increased cloud cover and atmospheric interference will degrade communication quality. Especially with our people still underground.”

  Janet nodded once. “Nothing we can do about the weather. They’ll be surfacing soon anyway.”

  She hesitated.

  “…They have to.”

  The words slipped out quieter than the room deserved.

  Behind her, Mo said nothing. He simply watched Janet, then the screen, then the screen again. Solo and Stan remained visible in the corner feed, both uncharacteristically silent.

  For the first time since the operation began, the command center felt less like a control room and more like a waiting room.

  ---

  The Vitalis, Bridge

  Deep underground, inside the hangar complex, the Vitalis did not hear the rain.

  But everyone aboard felt the pressure.

  Inside the bridge, Muricans and dwarves alike had abandoned bravado entirely. What remained was quiet desperation.

  The Vitalis surged forward, engines screaming, flying straight toward the narrowing gap between the two enemy airships ahead.

  “FASTER! GIVE ME MORE POWER!” the captain barked into her comm.

  “ROGER!” Kovalski and Irving answered simultaneously.

  No more evasive maneuvers.

  No more fancy flying.

  No more heroic stunts.

  Just raw acceleration.

  The two airships ahead shifted position. The gap between them visibly shrank.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “Captain!” a bridge crew member shouted. “They’re trying to block us!”

  The captain’s grip tightened around the controls. Her jaw clenched.

  “HERE WE GO!”

  The Vitalis entered the gap.

  Both sides of the hull scraped against the opposing airships at the same time.

  KRAAAANG—SKRRRRTT

  The sound was violent, metallic, and deeply unpleasant. Sparks erupted along both sides of the Vitalis, showering the underground hangar floors with long flashes of orange light.

  The ship slowed.

  But it did not stop.

  Grinding forward through sheer force and bad decisions, the Vitalis continued to push through the narrowing passage, hull screaming in protest.

  ---

  The Vitalis, Engine Room

  THUD THUD THUD THUD

  The sound echoed through the engine room like a war drum. Coal was dumped into the furnace again and again, each heavy shove landing with brutal emphasis. The heat inside the chamber was oppressive—thick, dry, and suffocating.

  Kovalski and Irving worked in rhythm

  They took turns feeding the furnace, timing their movements instinctively, neither needing to speak. The furnace roared in response, flames flaring brighter with every load of coal forced into its hungry mouth.

  Both men were drenched in sweat.

  Not damp.

  Not sweaty.

  Completely soaked.

  Kovalski slammed another shovel of coal into the furnace and staggered back half a step.

  “FUUUCK,” he growled, wiping his face with his forearm. “I’m getting tired!”

  Irving didn’t answer immediately. He shoved his own load of coal in, teeth clenched.

  ---

  The Black House, Solo’s Office

  Solo was alone in his office. Just him, his desk, and his laptop.

  “Don’t sto—shhkk—krrz—ing if y—krrzz—shhk—live—”

  Irving’s voice cut in and out, mangled by static, syllables torn apart by interference.

  Solo grimaced. “I’m suddenly getting a lot of static in my audio feed,” he muttered to the laptop. “What’s happening?”

  Janet’s face appeared in a video conference window, her expression tight.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” she replied. “The cloud formations and the rain above the complex are intensifying. It’s interfering with the communication frequency.”

  Solo leaned back in his chair and dragged a hand down his face.

  “Shit…”

  ---

  The Vitalis, Bridge

  SKRRRRTT—!

  The bridge was doing noticeably worse than the engine room.

  Every window had already shattered, leaving jagged frames where reinforced glass used to be. Wind and dust howled into the bridge, carrying sparks scraping violently along the left and right sides of the Vitalis as her hull was squeezed between two enemy airships.

  Metal screamed.

  The steering wheel shook violently.

  At the helm, the captain was locked in a wrestling match with the steering wheel.

  “Grrhhh—!” she snarled, teeth clenched, every muscle in her upper body straining as she fought to keep the rudder steady and prevent the ship from spinning uncontrollably.

  Her arms trembled. Veins bulged.

  The Vitalis continued to push forward—but slower now. Much slower.

  “We’re not going to make it at this rate…” Megan muttered, eyes fixed on the forward view.

  She didn’t need instruments to tell her the truth.

  There was still a significant length of enemy airship hull left to scrape past before they reached the hangar bay exit.

  Ivy and Bella also thinking the same thing.

  This was bad.

  Very bad.

  Then Ivy noticed something odd.

  The bridge crew member wasn’t looking forward anymore.

  He was looking up.

  “What is it?” Ivy asked, panic creeping into her voice.

  “T-there…” The crewman stammered, pointing toward the ceiling.

  Ivy followed his finger.

  Mounted along rails near the hangar ceiling was an overhead bridge crane. Suspended from its massive hook was a large cargo net—stuffed full of barrels.

  Every single barrel bore the same oil-like emblem stamped on its side.

  “Those are engine lubricants,” the crewman said hesitantly. “If we dump those onto the hull… we can reduce the friction. I think.”

  “That’s—” Ivy paused, brain connecting dots at record speed. “That’s actually a great idea!”

  She spun toward Bella. “Bella, wings up! Shoot the barrels above us! We might be able to make this airship slippery enough to slide through!”

  “Huh? Ah! Got it!” Bella replied instantly.

  With no hesitation, Bella summoned her vampire wings and kicked off, flying upward through the broken ceiling window of the bridge, M240L machine gun clutched tight as she exited onto the top of the Vitalis.

  “But it’s not flammable, right…?” Megan muttered uneasily.

  “No, it’s not,” the captain replied through gritted teeth, still wrestling the steer. “Dwarven engine lubricants have excellent heat resistance.”

  She spared a brief glance toward Ivy and the crewman.

  “Good thinking. Both of you.”

  Above—

  Bella landed hard on the Vitalis’ hull.

  “I’m in position!” she reported over comms.

  “Don’t shoot yet!” the captain barked back. “Wait until we’re directly below it!”

  “Got it!” Bella replied.

  Below her, the Vitalis continued its agonizing crawl forward, metal grinding violently against metal on both sides.

  “Now we just need to get under it…” Megan muttered.

  It was less than twenty meters.

  But it felt like kilometers.

  The strain worsened.

  “Grr— we can do it! Shut valve three, four, and seven!” the captain growled to the crewman.

  “A-aye!” the crewman replied, hands swiftly flying over the console. “Captain, I understand what you’re doing—but please be careful. We don’t want to lose the engines.”

  “I know…” she muttered.

  She slammed several levers beside the steer with precise, practiced brutality.

  Then she hit her comm.

  “Engine room! Come in!”

  “This is engine room!” Kovalski replied, panting heavily.

  “On my count,” the captain ordered, voice razor-sharp, “I need you to shove even more coal into the furnace.”

  “What?!” Kovalski shouted back. “Even more than now?!”

  “Way more,” she said. “And way faster.”

  A brief pause.

  “Ugh… roger that,” Kovalski replied.

  “On my count!” the captain shouted. “On four! Three! Two—!”

  Her right hand hovered over a lever.

  ---

  The Vitalis, Engine Room

  “One! NOW! SHOVE MORE COAL!”

  The captain’s voice exploded through the comm.

  Irving and Kovalski immediately responded, muscles screaming as they redoubled their pace.

  Shovel after shovel after shovel—

  THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD

  The enhanced coal slammed into the furnace nonstop, each impact feeding the raging inferno within.

  “FUUUUUCK!” both demons growled in unison, arms burning, lungs on fire, sweat pouring freely as they forced themselves to keep going.

  The furnace roared back like a living thing.

  “MORE!” the captain’s voice thundered through the comm. “KEEP IT COMING!”

  And they did.

  ---