Retrograde

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In this sequel to The Wrath of Fate, the Airship Ophelia lists, burnt and broken, in a tropical sea. Her crew has been scattered across the face of a ruined world, or lost in time, and now it is my job to pick up the pieces.

What’s to become of my wife and children, whom I left in the aerial city of Isla Aether? This was one of the last of the free cities, held aloft over a world given back to the beasts. I fear this city will be a target now that the Emperor’s life, and mercy, is at an end. What would become of Kristina if she was taken back to a life of servitude in the walled cities? What would become of the children if they were left wandering alone in wastelands filled with nomadic tribes and prehistoric predators?

What is to become of young Lilith Tess, who jumped ship in the 1930’s only to be lost in time? I saw her again, here at the end of days, and she was a queen. What journey did she take that led her to this fate?

And perhaps least important of all, what is to become of me and the last of our crew? I stand here on the deck of this ship that has held me through all my misguided attempts to make the world a better place. This ship, and her captain and crew, are beaten.

Do I have the strength to pull everything together again? Do I still have the strength to get this ship flying?

What other choice do I have?

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nd there was me. I’m Captain Robert. I caused this whole mess. I had good intentions, but it’s my fault nonetheless. I’ve got issues, it would seem. I need to be a hero, even when no hero is needed. Put a vessel like this under my command, and you can scarcely imagine the damage I can cause. I changed the world through perhaps unneeded heroics by going back and forth through time “rescuing the world” from its natural history. This had the unfortunate side effect of weakening the world, and now I am trapped in the result. I find myself after the fall of mankind (caused by me) in a land where mankind is constantly hunted, or enslaved in the name of “safety”.
Let me describe my appearance. It’ll help when you try to picture the jackass who set the world up for this fall by trying to be a hero. I’m six foot two, 220 pounds, and built like a football player. I’ve got pitch-black spiky hair, left over from a life before I was a ship’s captain, when I was actually the singer in a band. I used to be a musician, and though that was long ago, I still write songs. Some of my lyrics you’ll find strewn through this novel.
At the time of this story, I am around thirty-two, which never really bothered me, because that was about the age Han Solo was during the first Star Wars film. I was born in the 1970’s, but that was a long time ago. Actually, well over a hundred and fifty years ago
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