redoubled when they saw the oversize ensign rise to the top of the old destroyer’s foremast, standing out straight and taught in the stiff wind, her many battles embroidered on the red and white stripes. Those on Walker cheered their consorts in return when other large flags broke and streamed above them, and Simms and Tindal altered course to close the range to the enemy. The old Japanese alarm bell, turned salvo buzzer, jarred loudly against the bulkhead, and three bright flashes lit the drab day, illuminating the expectant faces of the gun’s crews stationed around a 4-inch-50and fo’c’sle, another on the amidships gun platform, and a 4.7-inch dual purpose on the aft deckhouse. Their line of sight was clear now, and Matt moved to port and stared through his binoculars at the enemy still more than two miles away. Campeti had been drilling his crews remorselessly and now that they had the tables of fire adjusted for black powder, the guns were actually more accurate, if shorter-legged, since velocity variations were less extreme. Of course, regardless of the ammunition, Walker still had her single, greatest combat advantage: gyro-stabilized fire control that allowed a pitching, rolling, racing ship to hit an equally lively target.
Matt grunted in satisfaction when two of the three shells struck a battleship on their first salvo. The explosions of the bursting charges weren’t very big and wouldn’t have caused much damage against a modern warship, but they blew quite satisfactory holes in wooden ships, little matter how stout and thick, because they naturally penetrated while exploding. Of course, the enemy also relied on bringing large quantities of bagged powder from their magazines to the guns. Powder that was immune to the passage of solid shot, splinters, or virtually any hazard they might face in battle-except random and energetic flashes of fire. What began as something resembling fireworks going off within the distant ship, even as her gunports began to rise, rapidly accelerated into a catastrophic detonation that everyone heard over the wind, distance, and sounds of their ship. In an instant, all that remained of a once-mighty vessel-and possibly five or six hundred human beings-was an expanding cloud of smoke and falling debris.
Those on the bridge stood almost stunned for a moment, but Campeti’s roar of “Next target, next target! Match pointers, goddamn it!” on the fire control platform above snapped them out of it. They’d blown up enemy ships before, but rarely before they were fully immersed in the fight-and never with so many humans aboard.
Matt turned to the bridge watch, his face hard. “They started this, so they asked for it,” he grated. “I’m not happy about it either, but I’m satisfied, and I’ll stay that way if we blow every one of ’em out of the water!”
The salvo buzzer rang again, and three more tongues of fire snarled at the enemy and jolted the ship as Walker continued her dash to get around in front of the Dom fleet.
“Hello the bridge!” came a cry from aft. “May I come up there, please?”
“Courtney! I thought you stayed in Saint Francis!” Matt said, surprised.
“Well, I didn’t. I may have made an extra effort to stay out of sight, so you wouldn’t force me to, but I am, indeed, here! I’m the acting surgeon after all, and I have my duty,” he reminded him piously. “May I join you?”
“Yeah, I suppose. But since you’re here, I expect you to do your duty without whining. If we take a hit, you’re off to the wardroom!”
“I shall vanish instantly, sir! Vanish!” He peered out at the Doms. Another salvo boomed, and he worked his jaw to pop his ears. “So we’re engaged in yet another unequal fight,” he observed cheerfully. “How exciting! Shall we see more of those dreadful but fascinating flying creatures?”
“I think you can count on it,” Matt said, watching another salvo launch water spouts around one of the lead “cruisers.” Only one shell hit the ship and it didn’t explode, but it must have struck somewhere near the wheel, because the ship suddenly fell off, beam on to the wind. It did manage a stuttering broadside in Walker ’s direction, but every shot fell randomly short.
The whole right side of the enemy formation suddenly erupted fire and smoke at Simms and Tindal as they eased ever closer, but that fire had no greater effect. The two Allied DDs held their fire.
“It must be terribly frustrating for them,” Bradford commiserated. “I mean, I doubt any of those men over there had ever heard of Walker before we waylaid them at Guadalupe, and there they stand, directly into her fire with no hope of a meaningful reply. You can despise what they represent, but you must honor their courage.”
“Theirs is the courage of the Grik, Courtney,” Matt snapped.
“It’s not! They’re… misguided. Criminally so. They’re doubtless coerced by their faith, and by our standards, even evil. But they must sense fear and understand their danger.” He shook his head. “Their courage is real.”
“I don’t know. After meeting that weird ‘Blood Cardinal’ bastard, Don Hernan, I wonder if it’s only that they’re less afraid of us than they are of him and his kind.”
“Perhaps. Pity we never caught him. I suspect he now sits happily at the feet of his ‘pope’… perhaps as a footrest?”
Matt barked a laugh. “That would be a sight, with all his puffed-up dignity!” He shook his head. “I doubt it, though. He’s probably on New Ireland. Maybe Chack’s already killed him!”
“A happy thought!”
The salvo buzzer rang.
Walker finally passed around in front of the Dom fleet, still keeping her distance on a course of two, eight, zero, mauling its ships practically at will. Roundshot, probably fired by heavy bow chasers, moaned by or plunked into the sea close aboard, shrouded in massive splashes. Courtney was as good as his word and promptly left the bridge when a pair of lucky shots staggered the ship. At this range they didn’t penetrate, but they did open seams and cause leaks. Mertz reported that the dragons had all dropped their loads, causing some damage to her decking and a few gun carriages, but little more. As Matt had predicted, they’d started shredding her rigging. The ship and her swarm of attackers were visible from the crow’s nest now, and the report said the distant struggle looked like a flock of “regular” lizard birds picking at a floating fish.
“Make your course three, three, zero, Mr. Kutas,” Matt said. “I hope those flying Grik remember what we did to them the other day and still hold a grudge. Let’s see if we can get their attention.” The salvos still flew hot and heavy to port, and the enemy van was losing its cohesion. Two more ships had been utterly destroyed by Walker ’s fire, and gouts of smoke billowed southward on the landward side of the fleet as the firing between it and the two Allied DDs grew more furious. Achilles signaled that she and her consorts were finally bringing the Dom rear under fire. Matt began to grow concerned that the enemy might wear and turn on the Imperial squadron. He didn’t think they would, not yet anyway, but if they did, Achilles and the other Imperial frigates wouldn’t last long. He had to be ready to respond quickly if that occurred.
“Cap-i-taan!” Minnie cried. “Commodore Jenks signals on small wireless we left him that the Dom Army is attacking in force! They is a lot of them, maybe five thousands. They not have much artillery, though, and Jenks does. Artillery has kept them at arm’s reach for now, so Bosun an’ his rifle militia can kill them well! He holding. He ask how we do?”
“Tell him we’re holding too.”
“That all?”
“That’s all. For now.”
More splashes rose around Walker, falling ever shorter as she steamed farther from the Dominion fleet- toward Mertz.
Bradford clomped back up the stairs aft, waving away questioning faces. “No injuries. Nothing serious, anyway. Just the usual cuts and scrapes, bumps and bruises you always see whenever large numbers of people scamper about on a vessel this small, handling heavy shells and manipulating large objects designed to pinch hell out of anyone coming near.” His bushy eyebrows rose as he stared off the port quarter. Several ships had begun to burn, and a number of warships had turned toward Simms and Tindal, regardless of the risk. The pounding they’d been taking simply couldn’t be borne any longer. “Can’t say the same for those poor buggers, I’m sad to say.”
“No,” Matt said, “but our guys are about to get it if they don’t pull ahead. Signal Simms and Tindal, ‘Full ahead, remain to windward of the enemy.’ ”
“Ay, ay… Cap-i-taan!” Minnie passed the word, then paused, listening to her earpiece. “Lookout says, ‘Draagons come!’ Signal from Mertz says they leave her be now.” Minnie cocked her head. “Says some real tired draagons roost on ship! They shooting them!”
“Swell,” Matt replied. “Have Mertz rejoin Tindal and Simms at her best possible speed! She’s finished playing bait, and I think her sisters are going to need her!”
“Here they come!” Kutas said, peering up through the windows.
“Secure from ‘surface action port’!” Matt cried. “Stand by for air action, aft! Helm, give us a gradual turn to course two, four, zero! Reduce speed to two-thirds.”
“What exactly are you planning?” Bradford asked.
