Rip did not hesitate. With a running start, he jumped through a shattered window and landed lightly on the ground, several feet below.

Blair and the other Venture Society members followed him, jumping out the windows and running through the park.

Sperry leaned over the broken glass and looked down.

He frowned and said, “The ground is a good ten feet below, I reckon. Why don’t they enhance police officers?”

Turning, he pointed at a small cluster of officers standing near Dr. Oggolopoli.

“Take his statement. Make sure nobody dressed in black comes in here to take him away. The rest of you, follow me.”

He took off at a jog down the hall, heading back toward the building’s front door. Several blue-clad officers raced after him.

Rip, meanwhile, felt great. He raced through the park at a sprint and never felt winded.

He burst through a copse of trees and the royal office building came into view, its doorway belching thick black smoke.

On the steps leading up, a phalanx of red-coated guards with furry black hats sprayed lead from their Tommy guns at half a dozen sewer troopers.

One of the guards emptied his magazine and reached for his belt, only to find he was out of ammo. The others looked like they were running low, too. They all took care with their shot placements.

The storm troopers, with smaller magazines, nonetheless appeared to have plenty of ammo. They kept firing.

Rip and the others burst through the trees, behind them and to the right. They took up positions and started firing on the troopers, who were exposed to them.

The troopers ignored the redcoats and turned to face this new threat, laying down more fire.

Rip pulled back behind a tree as bullets whizzed by his face, narrowly missing.

Sharp yelled, “Twig! Toss some over!”

“I’ve only got three more sticks, sir!”

“Use them!”

Twig took out two sticks and lit their fuses at the same time. He jumped out from cover behind his own tree and tossed them, taking bullets to the chest and face for his trouble.

The dynamite sailed through the air, parting ways at the zenith of the arc. Each landed in front of one gunman, immediately exploding and knocking them out of the fight.

But Twig went down. Rip looked over and saw him bleeding.

The last sewer trooper traded rounds with the guards and Venture Society members. The guards now were mostly out of ammo. Only one redcoat returned fire, the bullets thunking off the trooper’s back.

Rip crawled on the ground over to Twig’s position. The man lay in a pool of blood, breathing shallow.

Rip looked at a gash through his cheek, and realized a bullet had gone through his mouth and out the back of his neck.

“Hey, hang in there.”

He found a handkerchief sticking out of Twig’s jacket pocket and pulled it out, wrapping it around his neck and face.

“Hold pressure there and there.”

Twig pulled out his last stick of dynamite and a match with his free hand and held it up.

“You’ll need this, mate,” he said, bloody spittle flying. “They don’t go down easy with just bullets.”

Rip nodded. He took it and stuck the dynamite in a back pocket of his pants just as light dimmed overhead.

Everyone looked up. The black airship had swung around and slowly came back over the palace offices, its nose slowly gliding over the park.

The remaining trooper gave up suddenly. He strapped his broomhandle submachine gun over one shoulder and sprinted into the park, maneuvering beneath the ship.

A trapdoor opened under the cabin and a dozen knotted ropes dropped out, dragging along the ground in an open spot. With a burst of speed, the trooper caught up to the last rope and jumped, snagging it and holding on.

Rip took off after the trooper. He was closest. The Swashbucklers and Bandits behind him ran too, save for Twig still on the ground. But Rip had several yards’ head start.

The black airship pulled up, its engines tilting and picking up speed. The great nose, now over the Lyceum, canted upward. The ropes no longer dragged on the ground. They dangled above it by a couple feet, quickly rising higher.

Rip pumped his arms, pouring on all the speed he had. At the last second he jumped, reaching out for one remaining rope, now dangling ten feet in the air. He caught the bottom knot, grabbing it with both hands, his body swinging.

“Rip!”

He ignored Blair’s shout, pulling himself up with his arms five more knots, then finding purchase on the rope with his feet.

Above him, the lone trooper had already climbed halfway to the cabin.

Winches connected to the lines kicked in, and Rip sensed them dragging him up along with the other ropes.

The wind whipped him around. The nose of the giant ship continued pointing up and the propellers thrummed loud, powerful engines lifting the ship higher.

Rip looked down and saw the streets below filled with traffic. Pedestrians, horses and buggies, even steam cars stopped. Everyone looked up as he dangled from the rope, rising higher in the air.

He looked up, too, and watched the sewer trooper climbing his rope hand over hand, not content to wait and let the winch reel him in. He came closer to the trapdoor, now just a few knots below it.

Rip had a sinking feeling about what might happen if the trooper reached the cabin first. He doubted his recent enhancement would save him from a fall at this height. They were hundreds of feet above the street now.

He wrapped one arm around the rope for a good hold and unstrapped his Tommy gun with the other. Aiming up, Rip decided to avoid the trooper with his bulletproof enhanced outfit. Instead, he aimed at the man’s rope and emptied the magazine with a long burp of continuous fire.

Shiny brass shells flew out the side of the gun, falling down to the streets below like rain.

A notification flashed on his implant, which he ignored.

The trooper’s rope frayed and Rip grinned in satisfaction. With all the bullets that spewed out, he managed to sever it.

The rope snapped under the trooper’s weight and he dropped, still clutching tightly to the knots.

Rip watched him fall, all the way down. He landed in the middle of the street, making the draft horse of a cargo wagon rear up in surprise.

The ship kept moving. They passed over some buildings, and he could no longer see the body.

But he kept going up. Rip could hear the whine of the winch as he neared the trapdoor.

Wish I could swap drums out, but it’s too tricky one-handed.

He threw the strap over his head, putting the submachine gun back on his shoulder so he would have the use of both hands.

Rip tensed as the winch dragged him up and inside the cabin.