by Dan Koboldt
“They were at first. Maybe they ran out of payload.”
It made a cruel kind of sense. Kiara’s gambit for the Valteroni raid had relied on speed and secrecy. They’d have brought men and swords and horses. None of which really helped in a naval engagement. “Holt caught ’em napping. That’s why he knocked out the comms.”
“So how did he know about the raid?”
Logan shrugged. “Better intel.”
That reminded him to scope out the Victoria from this higher vantage point. The other Valteroni ships gave way so that she come to the forefront. What are they up to? Then two things happened at once: a deafening clack-thrum sounded as the Victoria launched a spear-like projectile into the CASE Global fleet. It snapped the mast off one ship before slamming into the hull of another. Wood and steel exploded, leaving a yawning hole three feet across. A crippling blow for one ship, and certain death for the other.
Yet Logan hardly watched the carnage, because the Victoria veered to starboard for another shot and he saw her at the helm. She wore Alissian garb—a long, belted jacket over dark leggings—but the stance and the bearing gave her away. Only two women Logan knew had an air of command that came from stance alone, and they happened to be sisters. “Son of a bitch.”
“What?” Mendez asked.
“I’ve got to call it in.” He found his comm unit and flipped it on. “Logan to Kiara.” Code names be damned, this was too important.
The Victoria fired its ballista again, clipping the topspars of two ships and then sinking a third. The northern fleet had drawn together for some cover against the encroaching ships, and it was only making things worse. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel for the Valteroni.
“I’m a little busy at the moment,” Kiara came back.
“I know, but this is priority one. Captain Relling is aboard the Victoria.”
No response came for a full five seconds. “How do you know?”
“I can goddamned see her, that’s how,” Logan said. “We’re right on her five o’clock.”
He brought up the binoculars again, just to be certain he wasn’t hallucinating. Which is how he saw Relling press her finger to her ear, and then turn to look directly at him. Oh, holy hell. She’s got a comm unit. “Lieutenant, we got a fox in the henhouse.” He shook Mendez’s shoulder and whispered. “We’re blown. We gotta move!”
The Victoria started to turn toward them. Relling was shouting at the men on the ballista. Logan threw himself onto the ladder and slid down. On the wheeldeck, he shoved Snicket aside. “They know we’re here. We’re going to have to make a run for it.”
Kiara’s voice bloomed in his ear. “Logan, hold your position.”
He paused midturn. “What?”
“Hold your position in that vector.”
They were sailing practically broadside to the Victoria, maybe doing twenty knots. As perfect a wide-open target as anyone could wish for.
“We’re sitting ducks here.” Even as he watched, two began turning the Victoria’s ballista around toward him. It already had a nasty-looking bolt loaded and ready.
“Stay on your vector. That’s an order,” Kiara said.
What the hell for? He saw it then, a huge Felaran three-master that had broken free of the clumped-up northern fleet. An icebreaker ship, judging by the set of nasty iron spikes protruding from the bow at the waterline. Four others like it swung out to form a wedge. It was a ruse. The chaos, the tangled-up ships.
“What are you planning?” he asked.
“What didn’t work in Damascus,” she said.
Damascus. That was a half a lifetime ago, and a mission he’d just as soon not remember. The operative goal being to “cut the head off the snake” to destabilize a terrorist group. That was what she planned. To take out the flagship. The Valteroni ships might have something to say about that, though. They rained catapult fire down on the icebreakers from both sides.
Even worse, his and Mendez’s role in her plan was simply to act as bait. Distract the Victoria so she can get in close.
Orders be damned.
He spun the wheel hard to starboard, using the wind to push him around. That put the stern toward the Victoria, and made them a smaller target.
“Damn it, Logan!” Kiara crackled in his ear.
Not that it mattered, at this range. They were so close, he heard Relling give the order to fire.
“Hit the deck!” he shouted, and followed his own order.
He crashed hard against the unyielding wood. It stank of tar and stale seawater. But it saved his life. The ballista bolt shattered the wheel housing where he’d stood a second before. Jagged splinters rained down on him. He covered his head. Damn, that was close.
He forced himself up to his knees to assess the damage. The wheel was entirely gone, but the bolt had mercifully spared the mainmast. They’d lost a crossbeam or two. The sails would probably hold. Mendez, Ralf, and Snicket scrambled up into the rigging to fix what they could. He didn’t even have to order it. They knew the top priority without being told: get away from the ballista as fast as possible.
Trouble was, they had no tiller control. Only the steering cables remained in the remnants of the wheelhouse, and these were tangled up with the slats and broken spars left behind by the ballista bolt. No steering. Shit.
“Steering’s out!” He shouted. “Where’s the rudder?” Unless it were dead-on straight, they’d be stuck traveling in a circle.
Ralf ran along a topspar toward the stern and looked down. “Ten points to starboard.”
“Damn.” He did some quick estimation. They’d loop in a great big circle and end up at the back of the CASE Global fleet. In a Valteroni ship, no less.
Logan climbed back to the highdeck on the stern, where Ralf and Snicket were working to free the tiller from the wheel cables. “How bad is it?”
“We might be able to put in a makeshift tiller,” Snicket said. “Won’t give us the same control of the wheel, but it’ll let us turn.”
“What do you need?”
“Half an hour, and the longest piece of wood you got.”
In half an hour, this will all be over.
But he ran down to the hold anyway, even though part of him knew it was pointless. The boys looked at him, the fear and anxiety on their faces.
“What’s going on?” one asked.
“We took a hit.” He knew he should leave them here in the safety of the hold, but they were able-bodied and he needed the help. “Get up on deck and see if you can help Ralf and Snicket.”
He made a quick search. There was a spare mast, but that was too large and would take an hour to maneuver out of the hold anyway. No dice. He ran back on deck and searched for something to cannibalize. The best option was a bottom-spar on the secondary mainsail. He hated to lose the canvas, but it was worthless if they couldn’t get the tiller under control. He drew his belt knife and cut it free from the fastenings, wincing at the way the freed canvas flapped in the wind. He ran it back to Ralf and Snicket. “Will this work?”
“It’ll have to.” Snicket took it and held it fast against an upright bar that protruded from the back of the boat. Ralf lashed it fast with cord, working as fast as Logan had ever seen him.
Logan almost did a double take. He can really move when his life depends on it.
“That should do it,” Snicket said at last. “You’ll have to put one of us on the tiller, though, if you want to navigate from the wheeldeck.”
“Let’s give it a whirl.” Logan climbed back up to the wheeldeck, which offered a better vantage point but little else, with the wheelhouse gone. They’d sailed a few hundred yards from the main action. “Bring us about.”
“What?”
“We need to get closer to those two ships.”
“Are you mad?”
“We’ll stay clear of the ballista.”
Snicket muttered a few mutinous things, but brought the makeshift tiller around.
Smoke from the burning hulls of ships obs
cured much of the battlefield, but from what Logan could see, CASE Global was losing. The Valteroni ships still held their formation, drawing the northern fleet deeper and deeper into their firing zone. Kiara’s attack force had been reduced from five ships to two. As he watched, her last escort took a direct hit of catapult fire and burst into flames. Still Kiara kept coming. Two Valteroni ships moved in to cut her off from reaching the Victoria. Even with a sturdy ship, there was no way she’d break through.
Logan hit the transmit button. “This isn’t going to work, Lieutenant. You need a new plan.”
“Yes, listen to Sergeant Logan, dear sister,” Relling chimed in.
Son of a bitch, she can even transmit. Eavesdropping on their frequency was a simple hack. Broadcasting to it took that to a whole new level. Maybe Holt had some sophisticated tech gear, but more likely, he’d gotten hold of a new comm unit.
The only question was who it once belonged to.
But then Logan heard something he didn’t expect: gunfire.
Crack. Crack. A high-powered rifle, judging by the sound. Probably a sniper up in the crow’s nest of the Felaran vessel. Pretty sure that’s a violation of the technology ban, Lieutenant. The Valteroni interceptors faltered as their navigators slumped at the wheel. Then the icebreaker put on a burst of speed so unnatural that it had to mean electric propulsion. On an in-world vessel.
“Lord help us,” Logan whispered. Make that two violations.
Kiara’s icebreaker slipped between the drifting Valteroni ships and came right at Relling. It would have rammed her, maybe, if she’d kept the Victoria where it was. Instead, she turned it in a neat half-circle, a feat that would have snapped the keel of a native ship. That brought the Victoria quartering-to as Kiara’s icebreaker passed the second ship.
“Lieutenant, watch the ballista!” Logan shouted, but his warning was lost in the clack-thrum of the siege engine firing. The bolt ripped a gaping hole in the icebreaker’s hull. It lurched downward, gorging itself on seawater. Still Kiara refused to change her bearing.
“Had enough yet?” Relling broadcasted.
The crack of gunfire answered her. One of the men working the ballista fell. But there was another bolt loaded already. How in the hell? Relling herself appeared behind the machine and took aim. “You never did know when to quit.”
Oh, no.
The next bolt took out Kiara’s mast, sending wood and canvas plummeting to the deck. Then two more bolts widened the hole in the hull to a cavernous mouth. It drank in cold seawater like a man dying of thirst. Flexsteel armor-clad mercenaries struggled to get clear of the canvas as the ship took on a serious list. It lost momentum as the electric motor gave out.
“Five points to starboard!” Logan shouted. The Victoria moved off to engage two more Felaran ships that had made it through the Valteroni barrage. Even so, he’d just as soon keep astern of her where the ballista wouldn’t reach. Kiara’s icebreaker was two-thirds under water already, amid a mess of floating debris. Nothing moved out there among the waves. It didn’t look good.
Damn it all. “Get us closer,” Logan snapped.
“Boss—” Ralf started.
“Just do it!”
They passed one of the smaller piles of floating wreckage, and suddenly, there she was. Clinging to a timber like a half-drowned rat. “Lieutenant!” He tore loose one of the halyards from the secondary mainsail and threw one end to her.
She looked up at him, as if not comprehending. Then she let go of the wreckage and moved out toward it, treading water. She spun in a slow circle. He knew what she saw. Her men dead, most of her fleet destroyed. Nothing left to command. Logan had been there before. He understood the darkness that came with it. Part of him wanted to leave her there to suffer it, for what she’d threatened to do. But he still needed her. “Grab on, Kiara.”
She met his eyes then. Really looked at him. “Remember your orders, Logan.” She went still, and sank into the blue depths.
“No!” Logan started to climb the rail, but two pairs of arms held him fast. Ralf and Snicket. “Let me go!”
“She’s lost, boss,” Snicket said.
“I can get to her.”
Ralf put a calming hand on his shoulder. “Let her go.”
They’re right. And they were too strong for him. He slumped against the rail.
Mendez ran up. “What happened? Where’s the lieutenant?”
“Gone,” Logan managed to say. He stared at the place where the ships had gone down, still not believing it himself.
Mendez whispered something and crossed himself. “And the strike force?”
Every ship that Logan could see flew the Valteroni flag. The rest had fled, sunk, or were adrift and burning. “Gone.”
“Shit. What do we do now?”
Logan stared at the soot-covered water where the ships had disappeared. “I don’t know.”
Mendez half-carried Logan to the wheeldeck. Snicket rousted his kinsmen from the hold now that the main danger was past, and sent them up to work in the sails.
Logan lowered himself to the deck and closed his eyes. Please, let this be a nightmare. It was a few minutes before he could bring himself to speak. “She was right in front of me.”
“Nothing you could have done, man.” Mendez sank to the deck beside him.
“I doubt the brass will see it that way.”
Mendez let out a long breath. “Relling had a comm unit. The whole mission was compromised.”
“How the hell did she get one?”
“She was working with Holt, so probably from him.”
“It had our frequencies, though. The new ones.”
“I know. That’s the one part I can’t figure out.”
Mendez paused. “We didn’t see Veena go under the water.”
That’s what he’s getting at. “Mendez . . .”
“I’m serious. What if Holt’s people captured her?”
“We’d have heard something. A ransom demand, or another ultimatum.”
Mendez grunted. He had a wide grunt vocabulary, and this particular one meant not sure I buy it.
“What?” Logan asked.
“There’s only one way to know for sure. One person, I mean.”
“Oh, come on. Him?”
“Doesn’t hurt to ask.”
“We’re still under orders, and they don’t include chatting him up.”
“Man, screw the orders. Kiara’s gone. The whole chain of command is broken.”
He’s right. “Guess that means I’m in charge.” They had contingencies set up for this kind of thing, and unless a superior officer appeared, operational decisions fell to Logan. On this side of the gateway, at least.
“What do you want to do?”
Central command would probably be expecting a report soon, with this raid in progress. Without the lieutenant’s tablet, there was no way to get in touch to let them know what had happened. What will they think, when Kiara doesn’t report in? They’d probably assume the worst. Hell, they might even pin the blame on Logan for this disaster, if he didn’t go there himself to set the story straight. “Probably best we return to base, and let the top brass reevaluate our options.”
“You can return to base.” Mendez gripped the rail and looked down at the water. “I’m going to Valteron City.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that.”
“I’m sorry, Logan. I’ve got to know.”
“What about your family?” They’d been invited to the CASE Global’s island facility just as Logan’s girls had.
“You’ll do me a solid on that front, won’t you?”
Logan sighed. The forty-plus member Mendez clan complicated his plans by an order of magnitude. “Of course.”
“So, where you want us to drop you off?”
Logan guffawed. “Oh, you think you’re taking the ship?”
“I’ve got farther to go. And it’s through Tion. A nightmare to go overland.”
“I guess you could drop me at Baypo
rt.”
Mendez grinned. “What a pal.”
Snicket spoke up, startling them both. “Hate to break up these lovely little plans, but neither of you’ll be taking the ship.”
Logan turned around to find Snicket and Ralf both holding loaded crossbows on him and Mendez. The Port Morgan boys stood behind them, looking a bit nervous but otherwise committed.
“I see you found the armory,” Logan said.
“Figured we should arm ourselves as long as you insisted on suicide missions.”
“How about putting them back, since we’re out of danger?”
“Oh, we’re not out of danger.” Snicket turned to Ralf. “Where’s the danger, Ralf?”
“Right here on deck.”
“I’m thinking the same. We’ll be a lot safer once you lot are gone.”
What’s he playing at? “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were hinting at insubordination.”
“We like to call it renegotiation.”
Well, at least they were Logan’s kind of scum. He couldn’t afford to double their pay, but in a negotiation, everyone gave a little. “What do you want?”
“We’ll start with the ship,” Snicket said.
“That’s a little awkward, isn’t it?” Logan asked. “We’re standing on it out in the middle of the ocean.”
“I got a solution for that, too.” Snicket grinned, and it was a wicked thing to behold.
Chapter 29
The Coalition
“I certainly hope that you’re reading my reports. We have worked too hard for too long to be ignored.”
—R. Holt, “A Decade Devoted”
Quinn, Jillaine, and their Tukalu escorts were among the first to arrive to Valteron City. His ears still rang from the explosion, but at least the headache was gone. They gained entry through the side-door without any extra “security” questions. Alethea—who seemed no worse for wear after the mission—conferred with one of her warriors inside the wall for a moment, then rejoined the group.
“We’re meeting out on the terrace,” she said.
Good to know. Traveling with a couple of Holt’s personal guards certainly had its perks. They could go just about anywhere with hardly a security challenge, and Alethea was plugged in. Plus there was the whole protection-with-threats service that Tukalu delivered with brutal efficiency.
