The Game Called Revolution by - (e reading malayalam books .txt) 📕

of where it might be. At the far end of the chamber was a bright red curtain hanging over the wall. Jeanne pulled it down to reveal another door.

She opened the door, snapping some sort of wire on the other side. The sound of a spark only gave her an instant’s warning, and she quickly jumped to the side as a fireball sailed through the doorway. A cloud of smoke was left in its wake, along with the acrid smell that accompanied it. A cannon had been placed behind the door and rigged to fire if anyone tried to come through.

I tire of that chienne’s games, she thought as she went through the doorway towards Farahilde’s location.

 

***

 

The bridge shook violently as the Blitzkrieg Rache hurled another volley of blue energy at the Minuit Solaire.

“Return fire!” Pierre ordered from his position in the captain’s chair.

“It’s no good!” came the voice of Lt. Escoir down in Gunnery Control. Like Celeste in the engine room, he communicated with the captain—or in this case, acting captain—through a rubber tube that hung down from the ceiling on the left side of the captain’s chair (as opposed to the tube from the boiler room which hung to the right). “Their hull is obviously made of irodium. Our standard cannons can’t penetrate it.”

“Then bring us around so we can use the steam cannon.”

Suddenly Celeste’s voice came through the communications tube to his right. “That’s not a good idea, sir.”

“What do you mean?” Pierre asked her.

“Based on their attacks so far, I’ve been able to calculate the maximum effective range of their weapons to be thirty yards. If we come around to use the steam cannon, they’ll be able to hit us. Also, their rate of fire is much greater than that of the steam cannon. We’ll never win by relying on it. We need to keep our distance from them.”

Pierre was losing his patience with the young engineer. “You’re suggesting we just run away? We can’t abandon the Commander!”

“That’s not what I’m suggesting at all. I do have an idea.”

He rubbed his temple to dissuade the headache that was coming on. “Pray tell.”

“Isn’t there a body of water nearby?”

“Yes, there’s a lake. I don’t think we can beat that vessel by taking a swim, though. That didn’t go so well for the royal airship, if you’ll recall.”

Surprisingly, Celeste replied, “I think we can. We’ve got to get them over the water and fire on it.”

The bridge shook again as the Blitzkrieg Rache hit them with a glancing blow. “We’ve been firing on them. How will shooting them above water make any difference?”

“No, sir. I mean, fire on the water when they are over it. If I’m right, the splash will short out the electrical systems they’re using to generate the energy for their attacks, rendering them powerless. And the splash will need to be large enough to engulf the black airship, so I recommend saving the steam cannon for that.”

It sounded like suicide. They might as well fly straight into the ground. Still, Celeste was a pretty sharp kid. She knew what she was talking about (he hoped). “You’d better be right about this.” He sighed.

Pierre ordered the operators to reduce altitude, increase speed to maximum and head straight for the lake that was located about a kilometer away. They flew so low that they were almost hugging the ground. The Blitzkrieg Rache chased after them, unwilling to let their prey escape, not when they were so close to knocking out Austria’s only other rival in the sky.

The Minuit Solaire soon arrived at the lake. It was a large one; that meant plenty of room to maneuver, and Pierre was fairly certain they would need it.

“Take us out to the middle of the lake to maximize the effectiveness of our strategy,” Celeste advised Pierre through the communications tube. “If my calculations are correct, they’ll have to come within range of the splash radius to attack us with their weapons. As soon as they do, open fire upon the area directly beneath them.”

“All right. I’m trusting you, Celeste, so if this doesn’t work and we die, I’m going to pay you a visit in the afterlife, and we’re going to have a talk about this,” Pierre warned her.

“So, I guess that means you’ll be keeping me company, then.”

“Count on it.”

They flew out to the middle of the lake, nearly skimming the surface of the water, as low as they were flying. As soon as they reached the center, Pierre ordered the operators to stop the airship and turn them around so the starboard (the side with the steam cannon) was facing the approaching enemy—more specifically, the water underneath where the Blitzkrieg Rache would soon be.

The enemy was coming in fast, about twenty feet above the surface of the water. Pierre grabbed the tube connected to Gunnery Control. “As soon as I give you the order, fire the steam cannon.”

Lt. Escoir replied, “Roger.”

Suddenly, the Blitzkrieg Rache came to a halt above the lake.

“What are they doing?” Pierre muttered to himself.

The enemy abruptly turned around and began flying back the way they had come. “I think they realized what we’re up to,” Victor said.

Oh, no, these foes weren’t getting away. “After them! Maximum speed!” Pierre ordered.

The Minuit Solaire gave chase, but the Blitzkrieg Rache would leave the lake within moments. They needed to open fire now.

However, Lt. Escoir informed Pierre that it wasn’t likely to work. “Sir, the odds of us hitting the spot directly underneath them while we are both travelling at high speeds are very remote. We need a bigger target.

Like a big, black airship? That gave Pierre an idea. “Shoot the ship itself!”

“But, sir—”

“Do it!”

The Minuit Solaire made a sharp turn, pointed its left side at the enemy airship, and opened fire with the steam cannon. A super-heated steel ball four times the size of a standard cannon ball exploded from the ship. The force of the blast rocked the bridge, and the operators struggled to maintain control. Celeste was right, Pierre decided; the Minuit Solaire could never have handled multiple steam cannons.

Without time to properly aim the attack, the glowing orange cannonball merely landed a glancing blow on the Blitzkrieg Rache. But that was enough; the force of the attack caused the enemy vessel to temporarily lose control, sending them crashing into the lakeshore. A torrent of water crashed over the ship, and sparks danced along the dark metal spikes which had channeled the strange blue energy into a deadly weapon.

The once-menacing airship went careening onto the shore, coming to a halt when it crashed into a cluster of trees. The impact broke several of the black spikes off its hull, though Pierre doubted the protuberances would have remained operational even if they were still attached to the ship. The whole thing was dead in the water. Well, slightly away from the water.

The crew of the enemy airship began pouring out, fleeing in all directions. Not so fast. Pierre wasn’t about to let them get away so easily. “Take us in for a landing,” he ordered the operators. “We’ve got some stragglers to round up.”

6

 

 

 

 

The Austrian fort, September 16, 1789 (Infini Calendar), 3:30 p.m.

The giant boulder chased Jeanne down the corridor beneath the fort. This was by far the most annoying trap yet, she thought. Stepping on the wrong part of the floor had dropped this thing to fall from the ceiling after her, and it was taking every ounce of her energy to stay ahead of it. At one point she stumbled and was almost crushed by the boulder. Nevertheless, she managed to keep going.

Up ahead was a doorway too narrow (hopefully) for the boulder to cross through. If she could just get through it before she was flattened, she might just live long enough to set off Farahilde’s next trap.

Moving her legs as fast as she possibly could, Jeanne reached the doorway and, almost too late, discovered there was no floor beyond it. There was only some sort of small platform suspended from the ceiling about five feet away from the doorway. With no other options, she charged through the entrance and leaped onto the platform. In actuality, it was more like a three-foot-by-three-foot stone block with a chain in the middle that ran fifteen feet up to the ceiling.

There was a crash behind her. She turned around; the boulder had splintered the doorway before becoming stuck in it. That effectively cut off any chance of escape she might have had; there was no way she could go back with that round hunk of rock blocking the only passage out of there.

“Ah, you finally made it, fräulein. I worried my traps had killed you before your fated reunion.”

It was Farahilde, sitting cross-legged on a similar stone block in the center of this…room?

“Room” was hardly an accurate description of the torch-lit chamber Jeanne now found herself in. Twenty feet below her was a pit of spikes, and the only objects in the chamber were nine other stone blocks, each with a sturdy chain rising up to the ceiling. The blocks were arranged in a clockwise pattern and—starting at the top left—numbered one to ten, with the tenth block being the one in the center that Farahilde currently occupied. The blocks were spaced about five feet apart.

Upon closer inspection, though, Jeanne discovered the chamber held one other decoration besides the blocks. “Brother!”

On the far wall, between blocks one and two, was Jean-Paul de Fleur, hanging above the pit and another doorway, his hands manacled in chains that ran up to the ceiling. His face was bloody; obviously Farahilde had subjected him to her particular brand of entertainment.

“So good of you to come, my sister. I do not know how much longer I can listen to this girl’s ranting.”

Unbelievable. Even in such a perilous situation he could not resist cracking jokes. “Will you be serious for once, Jean-Paul? I’ve put many people in danger to rescue you.”

“You want me to be serious?” he said, suddenly changing his tone. “Fine. You should not have come here. It was foolish of you to charge right into enemy territory just for one insignificant officer.”

“You are…” she started. “You are not an insignificant anything. You are a great officer of the French Army, you are a great Frenchman, and…you are a great brother! I’ve wanted to say that to you for a while now.”

Oddly enough, despite the condition he was in, Jean-Paul smiled. “You have changed as of late, Jeanne. I don’t know what has made you more open with your feelings, but I’m glad for it.”

Farahilde said to Jeanne, “You have certainly proven your resolve. I thought perhaps you were just a dog of the French government, but now I see you actually have heart. Nevertheless, you failed to give back meine schwester, so you will not be leaving here with your bruder. What I will give you is a story. I’m sure you have been wondering why I do this...”

Jeanne, however, was in no mood to listen. “Save your story. I don’t care why you’re doing this. I simply want my brother back. I’m going to jump over to him on these stone blocks and free him.”

She moved to jump to the number seven block—and from there would jump to blocks eight, nine