John Ringo - Council Wars 02 - Emerald Sea

by Emerald Sea(lit)

  Herzer directed Chauncey up to the surface with his knees and pulled back his mask for a breath of real air. They had attached sailcloth collars to the dragons, even Joanna, and the riders held onto them while riding. But the dragons spent most of their time under water, like a dolphin, and it meant spending all his time breathing through the mask. Since the battle with the orcas he'd developed a distaste for the mask, all mental he well knew, but real for all that. So he took every opportunity to get a breath of real air.

  Jason surfaced beside him, lifting himself on Chauncey's wing to blast out his lungs as Joanna, Bast and Edmund popped to the surface.

  "Well, breakfast for the dragons was catered," Joanna said, swallowing the last of an ixchitl.

  "You'd better hope that neurotoxin is digestible," Herzer said, looking around at the placid sea. The wind was from the north and with the islands blocking the breeze there was barely a chop where they had been attacked.

  "We need to rest," Jason said. "And we've got wounded."

  "Well, we can't rest in the middle of the water," Edmund said. "Those damned orcas will be back sooner or later and they can break the spear line if they're willing to take some casualties. Break up the hemisphere and we're done."

  "The mer can pull themselves out on the beach," Herzer said. "But the delphinos can't."

  "A bay," Bast said. "One with a narrow entrance but enough water in it for the delphinos to float."

  "There's one up the coast," Jason said after a moment's thought. "But... it's a ways."

  "No help for it," Edmund said, pulling his mask down over his face. "The orcas and ixchitl will be dealing with fatigue, too."

  "Fatigue!" Jason said. "We've been fighting or swimming since yesterday afternoon! And we're out of food."

  "We just keep going," Edmund said, pointing Nebka into the water. "That's all we can do."

  "Fight until you die and drop," Herzer said, looking at Jason steadily as he pulled his own mask down. "Now you know what it really means."

  "What are you? Iron?" Jason snarled. Even though Herzer had been on the dragon most of the way, he knew that the landsman had been doing more than his share of fighting.

  "No," Herzer said, "I'm a Blood Lord. Works out to the same thing, though. Blood to our blood, steel to our steel."

  * * *

  Jerry waved Koo back to the ship and took up station overlooking the black-sailed caravels. Koo, though, flew alongside and made a questioning sign at the device slung under Shep. Jerry thought about it, realized that they were going to have to come up with a sign for "bomb rack" and made the sign for "weapon." Then he added "Weapon Yazov. Send Yazov," and waved Koo away.

  He watched the ships as he waited for the other dragon to first be readied and then reach his position. They were tacking back and forth across the narrow passage in a ragged line, clearly intending to block the passage. Since the only boats they had seen were local fishing boats, and none of them near here, they were clearly waiting for the clipper. And the war between New Destiny and the UFS was already declared. But he still felt uncomfortable about what he was about to do.

  By the time Vickie and Yazov had reached him, he had come up with a tentative plan. He had been watching the boats and noticed that besides going forward, they had a nasty tendency to crab sideways away from the wind. The term "to leeward" came to mind from conversations among the ship's officers. So he had to account for that when he was dropping his... bombs. Fire bombs, technically. When Vickie reached his position he waved her closer so they could talk.

  "I'm going to make my runs," he said. "Watch what I do and we'll try to figure out the best way to work this."

  "Okay," she yelled. "Is it just me, or does something feel wrong about this?"

  "It's not just you," Jerry yelled back. "But that's why they call it war."

  He lined up to come at the front of the boat, high enough that arrows wouldn't reach the wyvern. He had to mentally judge the drift of the boat, and the dragon, and released his first bomb when it was where he thought it would hit the ship. He had lined up long-ways on the ship, since that made for a bigger target area, and the bomb dropped clean but over the windward side; he'd made too much correction. The ship was also closing too fast, so he lined up from astern this time and tried again. This time the bomb fell off to the leeward side. Finally, he came to the conclusion that he needed to get closer to the ship. He banked around and got back up to altitude again, but this time he waited until he was almost over the boat and then put Shep into a steep dive, pointed right at the mainmast.

  He could clearly see figures in black armor on the deck, pointing crossbows up at the dragon. But most of them loosed far too soon and the arrows hissed back down into the sea. He dove to well below his previous point and then released, pointed just forward of the mainmast, and pulled Shep up and to windward.

  The dragon could not pull out of the dive immediately and he ended up banking out and to the side, nearly at the level of the mast. A flock of bolts from the crossbows followed him as he banked up and away, but most of them struck the nearly invulnerable wings. Jerry could distinctly hear the guttural cries of the orc marines and the shouts of the crew, as well as several awful screams but he waited to see the effect until he got the dragon up to altitude again. Shep was whimpering and Jerry craned around but couldn't see any damage.

  "You've got a bolt in his leg," Vickie said, drifting over him. "It's barely in, but you're going to have a fun time landing."

  "Don't go as low as I did," Jerry said.

  "I won't. Look at that sucker burn, though."

  Jerry banked around and looked down at the caravel. The bomb had apparently hit just forward of the mainmast and the maindeck was fully involved. He could see fire parties trying to stop the flames but the jellied gasoline simply spread out when hit by water. As he watched, the mainsail caught fire and was whipped into ash in a moment. The mast had caught as well and even as he watched men and orcs were jumping over the side to escape the flames. The orcs, in their armor, sank like stones, but the crew was lowering the boats and some of the unChanged humans were going to survive. Some.

  "A shallow dive doesn't seem to do it," Jerry called. "Come from the rear and drop towards the mainmast. Watch the way they fall off to leeward, but the wind is pushing the bombs, too. And don't get as low as I did."

  "Will do," Vickie yelled.

  "I'm heading back to base," Jerry called, turning the dragon towards the carrier.

  The ships had come into the wind and were beating to the north. They had apparently figured out that the carrier was up there somewhere. Jerry made a mental note to pass that on to the skipper.

  * * *

  Martin watched the object drop away from the dragon in puzzlement until it burst into flame.

  "So much for there not being any way for the dragons to harm us," the captain said. He was a squat man named Gebshe with a cynical outlook on life. He raised an eyebrow at Martin and shrugged. "That's one fine barbecue. What now? We apparently cannot shoot them down."

  "They came from the north," Martin said. "Turn that way and sail this tub as fast as you can. Try to find that carrier. If we can close with it, we'll destroy it. If not..." Martin shrugged.

  "I think we'll do that," the captain said. "But I also think we'll have the boats standing by, just in case."

  Martin had placed the ship that he was on on one wing of the formation of caravels. The dragon-rider, naturally supposing the center ship was the leader, had concentrated his fire on that one, which was now well on the way to burning to the waterline. In his haste, he hadn't thought of what raising signaling flags would mean and as soon as they went up the mast the replacement dragon-rider, which had lined up to drop on the far ship, banked around and headed for his.

  "Gebshe," Martin said, "you have my authority to maneuver independently."

  "Why, thank you, kind sir," the captain said, judging the line-up of the rider. "I can't imagine that I would do so entirely on my own."

>   Martin grinned. At least the captain was retaining his sense of humor in this disaster. Because disaster it was. He knew there was no way that the ships could catch the carrier if it kicked up its heels. Which it would as soon as it heard they were headed its way. And the dragons were impossible targets; they just stayed too high for the crossbows to reach. But that might mean they could avoid their bombing, for now. If they could just hold on until dusk. In the night they could slip away and be well away by dawn. He didn't care what his orders were; there was no way he was going to sit here and be used for bombing practice.

  The dragon had lined up on its bombing dive and he looked at the captain.

  "Just waiting for it to get too deep in to correct," Gebshe said, then "Port your helm! Jib sheets!"

  The caravel came around slowly, too slowly, and the dragon expertly corrected, making minute changes in its wingtips to keep the round-hulled ship in its sights. It loosed, high, but accurately, and the bomb dropped just behind the mainmast.

  The effect was much more hideous up close. A group of sailors were trimming the mainsail and the bucket of liquid fire dropped over half of them, clinging to their skin as they ran, screaming, over the edge of the ship and jumped in the water. As they ran they spread droplets-Martin could track the progress of one by the blazing footprints he left-spreading the fire even wider.

  A crew had been standing by with buckets and a pump, but even pouring water on it simply spread the fire around. As he watched, the ropes of the mainsail caught fire, the fire traveling quickly up the tarred cordage and catching the sail on fire. It disappeared before his very eyes. By the time he looked back to the deck, the whole center of the ship was a blazing inferno.

  "So much for the boats," Gebshe said, philosophically. He looked to the west where land was just in view on the horizon. "Long swim," he said, taking off his coat and cutlass. "Last one there gets eaten." With that he dove over the side.

  Martin was looking at the inferno and wondering what to do. It was, indeed, a long way to the coast. Too long for him; he was no great swimmer. But there were always options.

  He pulled the communications cube out of his pocket and said: "Conner."

  In a moment a projection appeared. Brother Conner apparently heard the crackling behind him and turned around.

  "Fascinating," Conner said.

  "Your report that the dragons had no offensive capability was, I hate to tell you, quite inaccurate," Martin said, pointing to where the dragon was lining up on another of the maneuvering ships. As he did the screams of the orcs below showed that the fire was getting to their quarters.

  "Quite distressing, I admit," Conner said, cheerfully. "But important data that Chansa will, if not be pleased, appreciate knowing."

  "Well, it also got the ship's boats," Martin said. "So I'd appreciate a lift out."

  "Ah, well, sorry old friend," Conner said with a shrug. "But my power budget isn't quite up to a teleport. Other projects to support. Seems you're on your own."

  "What? You little weasel?" Martin paused, furious with anger. "You bully me out onto the ass end of nowhere and then you're just going to dump me?"

  "Seems like it," Conner said with another shrug. "Take care." And then he was gone.

  "Conner?" Martin said, shaking the cube. "Conner. Damnit!" He looked at the rapidly approaching inferno and chucked the useless cube over the side. Then he took off his boots and shirt, sorrowfully. Both had been custom-made for him and he had grown attached to them, especially the boots. But needs must. He then cut the legs of his finely woven silk pants just below his crotch, in a circle, leaving him in short shorts and holding two tubes of fabric. He tightened his belt around his waist, tied one end of each tube, put his knife away and followed the captain over the side.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Back on the carrier, with Shep having the bolt removed from his thigh, Jerry watched nervously for any sign of Vickie. At his warning the carrier had continued into the wind, running far to the north, and he was afraid that it was too far. Koo was out there, as well, but both of them had faded over the horizon and Vickie should have been on her way back by now.

  Finally there were two dots to be seen and the carrier prepared to recover dragons.

  "Worked like a charm," Vickie said, hopping off of Yazov as the dragon was led below. "I got three for three. One of them was right up in the bow of the boat, though, and if they were fast they might have gotten it out. But it burned up their front sails before I turned back. There's only one ship that's unscathed, and the other three are sunk or were burning to the waterline when I turned back."

  "Good job," the skipper said. "How are the dragons?"

  Jerry looked at the sky and shrugged.

  "Shep is out for today anyway," he said. "We can send one more sortie out if you want."

  "Do it," the skipper said. "We're fair for launching now. As soon as they're in the air I'm going to turn around and head back downwind. Make sure there's nothing in my way when I get there."

  Shep's bomb-rig was loaded onto Nebka and the two dragons took off, one after the other, climbing fast to the south.

  "All hands wear ship," the skipper called. "Let's go chase some dragon."

  It was late afternoon when the lookouts spotted the dragons, flapping wearily north against the wind. The captain actually sailed down past them before turning the ship about and came up to the LSO position for their landing. This time Nebka had a bolt in his leg and when he landed it crumpled under him. But a sling was put in place and the piteously wailing wyvern was lifted up and lowered into the stable area.

  Koo had been thrown clear on the landing but stumbled to his feet and blearily saluted the skipper.

  "They're all burned, sir," the rider said. "I went too low on my second pass. The one that Vickie winged had put out the fire and they were apparently a little upset about it. They were learning to maneuver, too. But we got both of them. I had one bomb left but I dumped it on the way back."

  "Damn fine job," the skipper said, shaking his hand. "Now, get below and get some rest, we still have Vickie to recover."

  Vickie made a perfect landing, but she was clearly tired.

  "You know, I think landing is worse than fighting?" she said as she slid off her wyvern. "We got 'em all, though. How's Koo and Debka?"

  "Debka's leg looked bad," Jerry said. "Worse than Shep. Right now, you've got the only hale dragon."

  "Well, we won't need them for those guys," Vickie said. "Some of them were in boats headed for the islands. I suppose they'll be a problem for the islanders but we can always send some marines or Blood Lords down to fix that." She shook her head tiredly. "It really takes it out of you."

  "So does the waiting," the skipper said. "And the wondering. This is a strange sea battle. You expect boarding actions, but this is all... at arm's length. It just feels... wrong."

  "Not particularly heroic," Jerry said. "But I wonder..."

  "What?"

  "I wonder when they'll start having carriers of their own," he said, looking to the south.

  "Now that will be something," Vickie admitted.

  "And I wonder how the mer are doing," the skipper said.

  * * *

  It was near dusk when the weary group of mer and dragons reached Charzan Inlet. The broad, flat banks were visible through the entrance and warm, almost hot, water boiled out to the ocean on a descending tide.

  Herzer reveled in it. As the day had progressed he had gotten colder and colder until by the late afternoon he was shivering uncontrollably and continuously. The warm water of the inlet was like a balm to the soul.

  The mer quickly writhed their way over the sandbar at the entrance of the inlet, which on the falling tide had less than a meter of water covering it. They then clustered in the shallow waters, lying back and breathing in the warm salt.

  "Up," Herzer said, wearily. He had dismounted from Chauncey and now waded through the thigh deep water, thumping the mer with his foot. "The delphinos need the spac
e; you're for the land."

  "Oh, God, Herzer," Elayna said, sitting up and blowing water from her lungs. "We can come on land, but it's not comfortable."

  "I don't really give a rat's ass," Herzer said, tiredly. "Get your pretty little tail up on land and make room for Herman and his people."

  Between Herzer, Edmund and what Herzer had come to think of as the mer-leaders-Jason, Pete, Antja and Bill-they got the mer up and out of the inlet as the delphinos started to fight their way over the bar.

  They had far more trouble with it than the mer. The delphino bodies were ill suited for crossing the spit-they were purely marine creatures-and in the interval the tide had fallen still farther, making the water over the bar barely the depth of their bodies. But with some assistance from Herzer and Bast they all made it into the inlet. The water in the inlet was deep enough that they weren't going to have to support their weight, which was the important part. And if they and the mer had hard going getting into the inlet, so would the ixchitl and the orcas, if the latter ever showed up.