“What was that?” the sergeant-at-arms asked.
Silently, Tilly released her clamp, falling straight towards the ground. Her aerovanes twitched, and she flipped right-way up. Then, not two meters from the ground, so close I was certain she would slam into the stone, Tilly’s repulsor plate activated with a whine, suspending her centimeters above the floor. The soldiers whirled, and Tilly’s rotary thrust coil roared to life.
“So long, chaps,” I said cheerfully as Tilly rushed forwards. I just had time to fall backwards before she was on top of me, her main docking clamp fastening around my chest. Tilly lifted me off the ground, but instead of curving away from the portal, Tilly’s motor revved like an ancient motorcycle and she screamed straight through the transdimensional egress.
The air went from the sterile cool of an ancient stone building to muggy, organic, hot, and thick as we passed onto the capital. I caught a brief glimpse of royal guards diving aside before Tilly pulled into a climb, sudden and sharper than I had expected.
I grabbed a stirrup, pulling myself awkwardly into the saddle with my bound wrists. Tilly clamped my legs in place, and I clumsily grabbed the right handlebar, taking control.We were ascending nearly vertically, climbing above the terraced towers of the Royal Palace, out of infantry lancer range and soon beyond the reach of heavy weapons. Tilly leveled out, and I could tell her intention. Fly away into the country, go to ground. Hide. Raid outlying positions for provisions. Avoid enemy patrols. Trust no one. Just like old times on Kakoda.
I saw my future then, decades of life as a fugitive, as a criminal. An eternity alone with Tilly to reflect on my failure as a soldier, as a citizen, and as a lover. I wondered how long I could take it before I gave myself up for execution, or threw myself from a cliff, or simply lay down to die. I wondered if I would survive long enough to see enemy troops on the homeworld. I wondered if they would be Federation or Imperial.
My hands tightened around Tilly’s handlebars. No. No, I would not do that. I refused to go into that empty future. If I was to die, I would do it defending what I loved. I would die trying to save my country, my honor, and my beloved Astrid. I would die for a purpose, or so I reasoned. At least I would die quickly.
And there was the minuscule chance I might not die. Somewhere, there was a tiny opportunity to live happily ever after, but it wouldn’t come to me unless I tried to get it.
I pulled at the handlebars, but Tilly refused to turn. “Damn it, Tilly, come on.” My greatsword was mounted across Tilly’s back. Pulling a few centimeters of zero-dimensional edge bare, I sliced my bonds. Hands free, I re-sheathed my sword and twisted the handlebars. Still, Tilly would not turn, keeping the handlebars straight. “Tilly, we have to go back.”
Tilly blatted a negative.
“I can’t hide again, Tilly. I can’t go back to that life. I won’t.”
An ascending chirp indicated a question. I did not need to look at her display to guess what it was.
“There’s no purpose to that life, hiding in the brush. I would have nothing to live for.”
Tilly pinged, and this time, I did have to read her response.
But you would be alive.
Tears touched my eyes. Gently, I patted Tilly’s chassis. “There’s more to life than living, Tilly. Could you spend the rest of your existence without anyone to fight?” Tilly made no sound, but she began to slow. “That’s what lies ahead if we keep going. Quiet, hiding. No fighting. No action. No racing. Nothing, and for a very long time. If we go back, it may be over quick, but I guarantee it will be exciting.
“So which will it be?”
Tilly didn’t answer. She made no sound, but her engine rumbled to a stop, leaving us to drift in the wind. I waited long enough to let her think, then reached forwards and took the handlebars.
Tilly let them turn.
“Atta girl,” I said. “I promise, if we make it through this, I’ll install all those upgrades the Royal Guards made for you.”
To my surprise, Tilly gave a smug whistle, and a diagnostic readout appeared on her display. My jaw dropped as I looked at her statistics. Everything was upgraded. Her standard military power cell had been replaced by a quad-RTG offering ten times more power. Her repulsor plate was A-rated and showed climb speeds double what she could pull last time I’d checked. As for her thrust coils, I wasn’t entirely certain Tilly didn’t think she was the projectile in a particle accelerator. Gigantic Mag-44 energy injectors ensured acceleration to top speed in under three seconds. Her cooling system had been upgraded to match, with twin turbo liquid-metal coolant pumps blowing heat to a supremely efficient radiator. BeforeI could worry about flying too fast and smashing into a wall, I noticed the upgraded control systems: quad-jet airbrakes and vectored thrust-assisted steering control.
In my absence, Tilly had become an unparalleled machine.
“Tilly, who installed these?” I asked.
In reply, Tilly showed me a picture of Princess Marie, her sleeves rolled above her elbows, grease smeared on her nose. I smiled.
“Right. Now I know where we’re going.” Tilly chirped a question. “First thing’s first: we have to get back through that portal.”
Tilly aggressively revved her engine, and I frowned, double-checking her diagnostics. “Tilly, don’t you have engine silencers? How can you make that much noise?”
Happily, Tilly displayed a broken wrench icon above the installed silencers. I asked, “But why?”
Tilly revved again, and the sound evoked an impeccably cool individual in leather jacket, riding boots and gloves, and shades. “Oh, all right,” I said. “But you have to earn it.”
Tilly revved once more, confident she could do so. I grinned.
“Let’s see what you can do.”
