quite enchanting creatures once dwelt there. Some still remain and are now protected. You see, only there of all the places we have contacted on this world since the passage was there not a single species that was of deliberate danger to man. Even Respite cannot boast that. There were even great, monstrous tortoises of a type somewhat similar to those described in pre-passage journals, though they were larger and more oddly shaped.” He sighed. “Ambassador Bradford would understand. He shares my interest in such things. Sadly, the tortoises and other benign creatures were also known to be tasty, and after all this time with the garrison’s provisions doubtless running low, I’m sure they have become virtually extinct. Particularly on the islands occupied by the Doms.”
“Maybe some have been preserved,” Tex suggested encouragingly.
“Possibly. Governor Sir Humphries is a naturalist.” Jenks chuckled softly. “As you said, otherwise the place is hell on earth. One would have to be a naturalist to request a posting there! You have cheered me a bit, Mr. Reddy.”
“Good,” Shinya declared. “We have a battle to plan, and I have learned that a positive mood promotes objectivity in regard to such things.”
CHAPTER 21
The Battle of Cape Comorin
March 16–20, 1944
Captain Jis-Tikkar, or Tikker, saw the massive fleet spread across the hazy sea off the southwest coast of India, and for a moment he thought he would have to swallow his heart. He’d seen a bigger fleet before, riding as copilot with Colonel Mallory in the old PBY Catalina during the Battle of Baalkpan, but he’d never seen so many big things in any fleet. Before, there’d been Amagi, which was terrifying enough at the time, but now there were five- no, six — ships defining themselves against the blurry horizon, that looked just as big as the Japanese battle cruiser. The things were dark, squat, and massive, with four tall funnels each, all belching thick, black coal smoke. They looked like mountain fish that someone had built pyres upon-and they weren’t alone. Trailing above and behind the great ships were zeppelins, just as had been reported, and they looked… maybe even a little bigger than others he’d seen. Looking back down, Tikker saw more large ships as long as Walker but with higher freeboards and two tall masts, steaming in company with the monsters. There were more than twenty of those. The hundreds of Indiaman-style Grik ships flocking along hardly gained his attention.
“Get on the horn,” he shouted into the speaking tube to his backseater over the roar of the engine and the slipstream. “Send that the scout reports are correct, but you really need to see these things to believe them!” He paused a moment. “Enemy position is about forty miles west-northwest of First Fleet flag, course one two zero. Speed, about eight knots. I confirm the number at two hundred plus, including, ah, twenty-three heavies, and six really heavies! I also confirm at least a dozen airships-they’re all bunched up from here. Request instructions!”
He waited a few minutes for a reply while he led the First Naval Air Wing in a gentle circle north, then west, keeping the enemy in sight. “Hey! The zeps are breaking away!” he cried into the tube when he suddenly saw the large tan shapes start to scatter. “They seen us! First and Second Pursuit Squadrons, taallyho the zeps! They gonna be makin’ for land or the fleet, I bet!”
The entire 1st Pursuit was armed with a single. 50-caliber machine gun each. The 2nd had no mounted guns so far, but the OCs each had several shortened rifles-carbines-loaded with hollow-based bullets filled with the same phosphor compound they were using in the new tracers. They would light a zeppelin if they could hit it.
“Taallyho! Taallyho!” Tikker cried as the two squadrons peeled off in pursuit of the airships. The First Naval Air Wing didn’t have voice communications yet, but he remembered having it before, in the Catalina, and he got caught up in the moment.
“You want me send what I already send two time more, or take down fleet orders?” came a shouted, peevish voice through the tube.
“What’s fleet say?” he asked.
“The old-style ships gotta be full o’ Griks. We don’t want them on shore. We do want idea what ordnance does on all ships. Fift Air Wing forming up over Arracca now. Fift COFO report to you for taac-tical direction when it arrive!”
“Okay! Send: First Bomb Squadron on me; we go for big monster ships. Second will attack the little monsters, and Third will burn Grik transports! Taallyho!”
The three remaining squadrons of the 1st Naval Air Wing turned toward the enemy together, at an altitude of five thousand feet. The pursuit ships had already scattered into pairs, going for the zeppelins their squadron commanders sent them after, and Tikker tried to concentrate. Except for the scary, ugly steamers, there wasn’t really any shape to the enemy formation, so his guys would have to be careful not to run into each other. Target fixation had been a problem for his pilots before and he worried about that, particularly when the targets were so large-and frightening. Over the next few minutes, he delegated three planes of the First to attack each of the lumbering behemoths ahead. The commander of the 2nd would work out his own assignments, as would the commander of the 3rd Bomb Squadron. As usual, the air frequency turned into a hash of OCs stomping all over each other, but they had a sequence now, so it didn’t last long. He wondered if Ahd-mi-raal Keje-Fris-Ar himself was sitting in his own COFO chair, in Big Sal ’s Flight Ops right now, monitoring the traffic. He doubted it. This would be First Fleet’s first “fleet action,” and the admiral was doubtless busy with many things.
The two planes that would attack the lead monster ship with him stayed on his wing as the squadron began to ease apart. The closer they got to the dreadful-looking thing, the bigger and more invulnerable it looked. It’s iron, he told himself with sudden conviction. The whole thing is iron-or at least covered with it! The Allies had begun plating sections of the sides of their ships to protect the engines and boilers, but they hadn’t done anything like this! He felt his heart drop down in his gut then and he knew- knew- their puny firebombs would have little or no effect on such a thing.
“Steady,” he said aloud, and pushed the stick forward.
PB-1B Nancys were good all-around practical aircraft. Even without knowing much about seaplanes, Ben Mallory’s education and experience had paid off on their first real try, and Nancys had become the workhorses of the Allied air effort. They’d proven themselves many times and were now in combat across the known world. With their center of gravity where it was, redundant wing bracing, and, yes, relatively high drag configuration, they even made tolerable dive-bombers. After much practice at close air support on land, the ships-particularly the very large ones- should be easy targets, if Tikker’s pilots remembered to lead them. Sailing ships could do little to avoid the bombs, and Tikker doubted the plodding iron monsters could maneuver very smartly. He wondered in a flash what kind of antiair defenses the things might have.
“Send: We’re going in!” he cried.
Maker, that thing is big! he thought as the Nancy steadied its dive, angling just forward of a massive raised structure that seemed to extend most of the length of the ship. Smoke gushed skyward from the four tall funnels, and he thought the flat, wide feathers of the ship’s wake had grown a little broader. Maybe it had increased speed? Perhaps the most unsettling thing about the great ship was that despite its size, there was not a living thing moving upon it. All its crew had to be enclosed within. It was as if this huge thing he, his OC, and two other frail planes were hurtling toward was a giant, unfeeling, uncaring-maybe unkillable-machine. His left hand inched toward the low, leather-wrapped lever nestled down to the side of his wicker seat. The closer he got to his target, the surer he was that the iron was bolted onto some kind of framework, at least. But the bolt pattern was almost continuous, so maybe there was solid wood beneath the iron? That had to be it, and the bolts were huge! Big enough to see at- Shutters suddenly rose near the apex at the top of the ship, where the sloping iron of one side joined that of the other, and what looked like dozens of small muzzles appeared briefly before his target was obscured by a monstrous, white cloud!
Large objects, bigger than musket balls, vroop ed past Tikker’s Nancy, and the plane shuddered when one struck the leading edge of his starboard wing. Instinctively he knew it was time, and he pulled up hard on the lever and back on the control stick almost simultaneously. The weight of two two-hundred-pound incendiary bombs dropping away and the backward pressure on the stick caused his plane to rocket skyward, and it dashed through the bitter coal smoke and rising white smoke of… whatever shot at him. Moving the stick to the left and pushing hard on the left rudder, his plane practically spun on its axis, and he saw the immediate aftermath of his bomb hits.
