He cocked his ear toward the speaker. “Cinder?”
“Listen, the auto-control system has a bug. The power cell is on the fritz too. I think it can make it, but you’re going to have to take off without computer assistance.”
The words, too dry in the computer’s tone, were punctuated by another round of bullets against the ship’s closed hatch.
Thorne gulped. “Without computer assistance? Are you sure?”
A short silence was followed by the voice again, and Thorne thought he could detect Cinder’s screeching despite its monotone. “You do know how to fly, right?”
“Uh.” Thorne scanned the controls before him. “Yes?”
He squared his shoulders and reached for the controller that was attached to the ceiling. A moment later, a slash of sunlight cut across the warehouse as the roof opened down the middle.
Something pounded against the ship’s side.
“Yeah, yeah, I hear you.” Thorne jabbed the ignition.
The lights across the dash dimmed as the engine thrummed to life.
“Here we go.”
Another crash echoed from outside the hatch. He jogged a few switches, engaging hover mode, and eased the ship off the ground. She rose up smoothly, the magnets beneath the city pushing the ship easily as a dandelion seed, and Thorne exhaled a long breath.
Then the ship warbled and began to tilt.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, don’t do that!” Thorne’s pulse raced as he leveled the ship.
“The power cell is going to die. You have to engage the backup thrusters.”
“Engage the backup wha—oh, never mind, I found them.”
The engine flared again. With the sudden jolt of power, the ship lurched to the opposite side and Thorne heard a crunch as she rammed into the next ship. The Rampion shuddered and started to slip back toward the ground. Another rainfall of bullets beat against the starboard side. A drop of sweat slid down Thorne’s back.
“What are you doing up there?”
“Stop distracting me!” he yelled, gripping the controls and righting the ship. Overcompensated. The ship tilted too far to the right.
“We’re going to die.”
“This isn’t as easy as it looks!” Thorne leveled her out again. “I usually have an automated stabilizer to take care of this!”
To his surprise, no sarcastic comment was spat back at him.
A moment later, another panel lit up. MAGNETIC CONDUCTORS STABILIZING. POWER OUTPUT: 37/63 … 38/62 … 42/58 …
The ship settled calmly beneath him, once again trembling in midair. “Right! Like that!”
Thorne’s knuckles whitened on the controls as he arched the ship’s nose up toward the open roof. The engine’s purr became a roar as the ship soared upward. He heard the last ricochet of bullets and then they fell away as the ship broke free of the warehouse and was flooded with the light from the yellow sun.
“Come on, darling,” he murmured, squeezing his eyes shut as, without resistance, without wavering, the ship left the protective magnetic field of the city behind, drew on the full power of her thrusters, and speared through the wispy clouds that lingered in the morning sky. The towering skyscrapers of downtown New Beijing dropped away and then it was only him and the sky and the endless landscape of space.
Thorne’s fingers stayed clamped like iron shackles around the controls until the ship had erupted from Earth’s atmosphere. Light-headed, he adjusted the thruster output as the ship slipped into natural orbit before prying his hands away from the controls.
He slumped, shaking, back in the chair. It took him a long time to speak, waiting for his heartbeat to slow to a manageable pace. “Good work, cyborg girl,” he said. “If you were hoping for a permanent position on my crew, you’re hired.”
The speakers were silent.
“I don’t mean a lowly position, either. First mate is available. Well, I mean, pretty much every position is available. Mechanic … cook … a pilot would be nice so I don’t have to go through that again.” He waited. “Cinder? Are you there?”