March To The Stars

'You don't look happy,' he said more quietly. He also thought that he would like to wrap her in foam and put her in the hold, where she wouldn't be exposed to enemy fire. But she was his guard, not the other way around, and any suggestion of coddling on his part would undoubtedly meet with a violent response.

'Do you ever wish it could just end, Roger?' she asked quietly. 'That we could call over to them and say, 'Let's not fight today.' '

It took the prince a moment to think about that. It was a feeling that he'd had before his first major battle, at Voitan, where better than half the company had been lost, but he'd rarely experienced it since then. Rage, yes. Professional fear of failure, yes. But as he considered her question, he realized that the normal and ordinary fear of dying had somehow fallen behind. Even worse, in some ways, the fear of having to kill was doing the same thing.

'No,' he said after the better part of a minute. 'Not really. Not since Voitan.'

'I do,' she said still very quietly. 'I do every single time.' She turned to look at him at last. 'I love you, and I knew even when I was falling in love with you, that you don't feel that way. But sometimes it worries me that you don't.'

She looked deep into his eyes for moment, then touched him on the arm, and started back towards the stern.

Roger watched her go, then turned back to watch the oncoming enemy. She had a point, he thought. On Marduk, the only way to survive had been to attack and keep on attacking, but sooner or later, they would make it back to Earth. When they did, he would once again become good old Prince Roger, Number Three Child, and in those conditions, jumping down the throat of the flar-ke to kick your way out its ass was not an effective tactic. Nor would Mother appreciate it if he blew some idiotic noble's brains all over the throne room's walls, he supposed. Sooner or later, he'd have to learn subtlety.

At that moment, the lead Lemmar ship opened up with its bombard, followed rapidly by all five of its consorts.

Yes, she had a point. He had to admit it. One that bore thinking about. But for now, it was time to kick some ass.

CHAPTER NINE

'Prepare to run out!' Roger called, gauging the speed of the oncoming ships. The two formations sliced towards one another, the schooners moving much faster through the water than the clumsier raider vessels, and he frowned slightly. They were going to pass one another on opposite tacks, all right, but considerably more quickly than he had anticipated.

'I want to reduce sail as we pass through them, so we can get in more than one broadside.'

'Agreed,' Captain T'Sool said. Hooker's Mardukan captain stood beside the prince, eyes narrow as he, too, calculated the combined approach speed. 'I think taking in the middle and topmast staysails should be enough. If it isn't, we can always drop the mainsail and the inner jib, as well.'

Despite the tension, Roger smiled faintly. There'd been no terms for those types of sails in any Mardukan language before Poertena had introduced them, so the diminutive armorer had been forced to use the human ones. It had worked—at least it precluded any possibility of confusing Mardukan words—but it was more than a bit humorous to hear a Mardukan make a hash of pronouncing 'topmast staysail' ... especially with a Pinopan accent. But T'Sool was almost certainly correct. What he'd suggested would reduce sail area significantly, and with it, Hooker's speed, but the foresail was the real workhorse of the topsail schooner rig. Even if they did have to drop the mainsail, as well, her agility and handling would be unimpaired.

'I think just the staysails should be enough,' he responded. 'Julian, send that to the other ships along with the word that we'll be engaging shortly.'

'Yes, Sir.' The NCO grinned. 'I think we can all figure out that last part on our own, though!'

Another boom echoed from the oncoming ships, and the ball from the nearest bombard was clearly visible as it flew well above the Hooker. It was audible, as well, even over the sounds of wind and sea. Roger was almost too intent to notice, but several people flinched as the whimpering ball sliced away several lines overhead. The two sides were little more than two hundred meters apart, with Roger's vessels swooping down upon the Lemmar.

'I think we're in range,' Roger observed dryly.

'Indeed?' D'Nal Cord's tone was even drier. He stood directly behind Roger, leaning on his huge spear while guarding the prince's back, as any proper asi should when battle loomed. 'And as Sergeant Julian is so fond of saying, you think this because ... ?'

Roger turned to smile fiercely up at his asi, but other people on Hooker's afterdeck had more pressing details to worry about.

'Srem Kol!' T'Sool shouted, and pointed upward when a Mardukan petty officer looked towards him. 'Get a work party aloft and get those lines replaced! Tlar Frum! Stand by to reduce sail!'

Even as shouted acknowledgments came back to him, there was more thunder from the Lemmar line, and Roger heard a rending crash.

'Prince John just took a hit,' Pahner said, and Roger looked over to see that the captain's gift for understatement hadn't deserted him. The third schooner in his own line had lost her foremast. It had plunged into the water on her starboard side, and the weight of the broken spars and sodden canvas was like an anchor. The ship swung wildly around to the right, exposing her broadside to the oncoming Mardukan raiders.

'Not much we can do about it now,' Roger observed with a mildness which fooled neither Pahner nor himself. 'Nothing except smash the shit out of the scummies, anyway. And at least anybody who wants her is going to have to come close enough for her carronades to do a little smashing of their own. Still—' He looked at the Marine standing beside Cord. 'Julian, tell the Johnny to concentrate on Number Four's rigging. Sea Foam and Tor Coll will have to hammer Number Three and Number Five to keep them off her.'

'Got it,' Julian acknowledged. The NCO had switched to a battle schematic on his pad and sent the updated plan to all five ships. 'I've got a response from everyone except Prince John,' he reported after a moment.

'I can see some damage aft.' Pahner had the zoom dialed up on his helmet visor. 'It looks like Number Four and Number Five were concentrating fire on her. She looks pretty beat up.'

'I don't doubt it,' Roger grunted. 'Those are dammed big cannonballs.' He shrugged. 'But we'll settle their hash in a few minutes now. It's about time to open the ball. All ships—run out!'

* * *

'What do they think they're doing now?' Vunet demanded as Rage of Lemmar's bombard thudded again.

'Just at a guess, I'd say they're finally getting ready to shoot back at us,' Cred Cies said bitingly as the smooth sides of the strange, low-slung ships were suddenly barbed with what certainly looked like stubby bombard muzzles.

'With those tiny things?' the mate made a derisive gesture of contempt.

'With those tiny things,' Cies confirmed.

'My son could hurt us worse with a toy sword,' Vunet scoffed.

* * *

Given its angle of approach, the K'Vaernian flotilla could have opened fire with its forward pivot guns even before the Lemmar did. Roger, however, had chosen not to do so. Powerful as the pivot guns were, it was unlikely that they could have incapacitated any of the raider vessels by themselves without using the explosive shells, which would probably have destroyed their targets completely. Wooden ships waterproofed with pitch and covered with tarred rigging were tinderboxes, just waiting for any explosive shell to set them ablaze. And even if that hadn't been the case, Roger had had no interest in alerting the Mardukan pirates to the power of his vessels' weapons. The