shot that shattered the thing’s head. Kari began reloading the second gun but looked over her shoulder, forward, at Fred.
“What you do?” she demanded. Fred was leveling off, just above the water, but he pointed up. High above, another flight of the creatures was nosing over into the attack.
“I’m trying to get us closer to shore. If those devils knock us down, I don’t want to land in the water! Too many flashies!” Ahead was a narrow strip of beach. On the one side were the near-vertical cliffs; on the other, a boisterous surf. He risked a look upward. “Here they come!”
Kari never got the musket reloaded. Even without the wild gyrations, buffeting, and evasive maneuvers of the plane, she was just too scared to make her hands obey the complicated orders she gave them. One mon- ster plunged into the sea directly ahead of them. Another missed aft, almost tearing the tail off with its outstretched claws. The whole plane shuddered and nearly flipped into the sea when one of the creatures-that had to be lighter than it looked-slammed into the port wifasnd just clung there, slashing at the fabric with its teeth. Another lit right next to it and went for the blurry, spinning prop. With a horrifying Splack! Smack! Whack! Crack! the prop shredded the creature’s head and sprayed blood and gore and shards of bone all over Kari. Of the prop itself, little remained but spinning stumps. Horribly out of balance, the crank likely sprung, the valiant little engine tore itself apart, and all Kari could do was hunker down and hope most of the pieces would miss her.
“That’s done it!” Fred shouted, his voice tight with tension. The first beast had probably been torn apart by fragments of the engine, propeller, or its comrade, because it no longer tore at the wing, but the damage was done. Fred struggled against the loss of thrust and lift to coax the plane onto the beach, but they’d never make it. Forty or fifty yards short, the “Nancy” stalled, then pancaked into the surf. Kari screamed when a marching swell caught the tail and flipped the plane onto its back. There was a kaleidoscope of images: rushing bubbles and surging foam. Her eyes grew dim and her lungs felt as if they’d burst. Then, even through the seething waves, she heard the wing drag against the sandy bottom and with a terrible, rending crunch, the “Nancy” began breaking up.
“That was it, Skipper,” Ed Palmer said, looking down. He stood in the curtained passageway leading to the wardroom from aft. “After that last ‘Mayday,’ nothing.”
Matt merely nodded, but he thought his heart would break. Reynolds had been the youngest kid on the ship before the Squall, and he’d demonstrated buckets of guts more times than he could count, staying at his talker’s post on the bridge throughout many major actions. Kari, a B’mbaadan and daughter of that city’s greatest warrior, hadn’t been a warrior by nature, but she’d been a sweet kid with her own share of guts, doing what she had to do. Somehow, Fred and Kari had become inseparable, and their friendship and devotion to a very dangerous duty had been an inspiration to everyone. If they had to go, at least they’d gone together. Matt didn’t think either would want to go on without the other. Selass sniffed, and Matt smiled gently at her.
“Okay,” he said gruffly, standing over the green-linoleum-topped table and peering down at the map laid out on it. Jenks was there, as were Rempel and several Imperial officers. Spanky, Selass, and Bradford were the only others from Walker. Gray had already left to join the militia so he, Stumpy, Pack Rat, and Jenks’s few Marines could try to cram some of Chack’s and Blair’s tactics into their individualistic heads. “The…‘Nancy’ didn’t report actually seeing it. They meant to overfly the lowlands on their way back here, but they did confirm the ships, so we have to assume there’s an enemy column approaching from the south.” He looked at Jenks. “You’ve got to stop it. I don’t have any mortars for you, but you should have plenty of artillery-if you can crew it.”
“We have enough professionals for the artillery,” Jenks said, “but the militia will have to hold.”
“They’ll hold, if no one else will,” Rempel said, somewhat antagonistically. “They’re ill-disciplined, and their drill is laughable… but this is their home. They’ll fight for it.”
“Good,” Matt said. “That leaves us with the enemy fleet. The forts should be able to keep most of it out of the bay, but if just one ship gets through, it can raise absolute hell with the infrastructure here; infrastructure we’re going to need to take the war to the Doms. We can’t count on the forts. We must at least whittle the enemy down befor in arrives.”
“Two hundred and fifty miles at last report,” Jenks mused. “The wind remains in our favor to a degree, so they can’t make best speed. Give them six to eight knots. That will put them here… day after tomorrow. Evening most likely.”
“Yeah, no faster than their slowest ships, and in this case, their slowest are their most powerful. All the same, the wind could change and we need depth-behind us, I mean-to chase anything that gets past us. I think we should meet them.”
“Chase? Meet?” Rempel said incredulously. “Are you mad? After great effort, we have the equivalent of four warships, not counting yours, to meet twenty-five or more!”
“Not four, Admiral, nine- counting this one. We’ve reestablished contact with elements of Second Fleet. Achilles, Simms, Mertz, and Tindal will arrive early tomorrow morning, along with a pair of oilers. They’d have been here earlier…” Matt’s face clouded. “Let’s just say I’ve no proof of treachery, but I’m awfully glad I gave orders for them to depart company from the rest of Second Fleet if they thought its commander was advancing too slowly. Evidently, your High Admiral McClain gave the impression he was dawdling.”
“The Lord High Admiral!” Rempel gasped. “You don’t suspect he’s in league…?”
Matt shook his head. “I honestly doubt it, but he wasn’t enthusiastic about this mission from the start. I think he believed the threat overestimated.” He snorted. “He preferred to relieve the Enchanted Isles. Evidently, he’s strung out as far south as he can manage, to intercept any word from there. In the meantime, I doubt he’ll be a factor in the upcoming fight.”
“But still only nine ships!”
“Four are the finest anyone could hope for,” Jenks stated, losing patience. “Three are entirely new and more than a match for any Dom ship of the line-and you forget Walker, sir.”
“I do not! Though… honestly, I cannot see how she can be of any great use. Certainly she is fast, but she carries fewer guns than a brig!”
“That may be so, Rempel,” Jenks said, “but they’re unlike any guns you’ve ever seen. They can destroy ships like the Dom’s-or ours, for that matter-from twice, ten times the range they could hope to respond!”
Matt winced. I guess a little exaggeration never hurts when you’re trying to bolster a man’s courage. Twice the range, sure. Ten times? Not with black powder.
“Indeed? Yet they are so small…”
Spanky rolled his eyes but turned to Courtney. “Have you come up with any bug spray for them flyin’ devils, Mr. Bradford?” he asked.
Courtney’s almost perpetually cheerful, open expression contorted into a frown. “I’m not sure,” he temporized. “They’re not indigenous to Imperial territories, at least not specimens of such size and aggression, so little is really known about them.” He brightened. “One of the officers I had the pleasure to meet is impressively knowledgeable about the local fauna! I thought I was a naturalist! There’s so much I can learn from him. Fascinating, utterly fascinating creatures abide here! Some are even rather familiar to me, but others
…”
“Courtney,” Matt said dryly.
“Oh. Bloody hell! Of course,” Bradford fumed, but inhaled to calm himself. “Based on my own studies, I feel comfortable stating that, for all practical purposes, ‘lizard birds,’ ‘dragons,’ are flying Grik! Their physiology is somewhat different, of course-their arms and fingers have become the framework for wings; the tails are longer and the plumage more specialized. They’re also lighter for their size, but the corresponding flight muscles are greatly exaggerated.” He looked at Spanky. “Your ‘bug spray’ analogy might be as good as any, strangely enough. Their lungs are immense, and they clearly rely on a great volume of air to sustain their prodigious cardiopulmonary requirements…” He considered. “I don’t imagine they could thrive for long in a smoky environment, for example. Set fire to their ships, and I doubt they could loiter above them. The smoke alone might well choke them, or at least tire them quickly.” He shrugged. “That’s all I have for you, I’m afraid-besides what you already know: they’re vulnerable to gunfire, structurally and otherwise, and bleed rather copiously from any serious wound. Another drawback to their amazing ‘power plant,’ as it were.”
Jenks was watching Matt’s face. “Does that give you an idea, my friend?”
“Maybe.” Matt glanced at his watch. “In any event, you should probably go ashore and start sorting out your ‘army.’ I expect the enemy to try a coordinated attack of some kind, but we all know how hard that can be. You had better be in position as early as possible.” He looked at Rempel. “The ‘fleet’ will make all preparations for getting
