Into The Void

by Nigel Findley

  Chapter Six

  Much of the fear remained – of course! – but after a dozen or so heartbeats Teldin was able to shake off the worst of the mind-numbing terror that kept him frozen in his seat. He forced himself to his feet. Where would Estriss and Aelfred be during battle stations? The bridge, of course.

  The forward bridge was almost as crowded as it had been during the passage into the phlogiston. The captain and first mate were there, as he’d expected, as were Sylvie and Sweat Tobregdan. Vallus Leafbower was conspicuously absent, but his place was filled by two others, whom Teldin had met but had barely spoken to: Liono Marlot and Bubbo.

  The latter two made an almost absurd contrast; even in his present state, Teldin could appreciate that. Liono Marlot, the ship’s “tactician,” was a quick-tongued man, slender in build, and short. The top of his gray head came up to Teldin’s chin … and up to Bubbo’s armpit. Bubbo – if the man had a second name, Teldin had never heard it used – was the Probe’s weapons master, and his body matched the scale of the ship’s heavy weapons, which were his responsibility and chief interest. He was a black-bearded mountain of a man with a good layer of fat sheathing powerful muscles. Friendly in a gruff sort of way, Bubbo would never use two words when one would do and seemed to prefer using none at all. Despite these differences, or perhaps because of them, Liono and Bubbo were fast friends and inveterate drinking companions in the saloon when both were off duty. Their normal camaraderie was absent now, and they shared the same air of tense expectation as the rest of the bridge crew.

  Everyone’s gaze was fixed firmly forward, presumably toward the approaching neogi vessel. Teldin scanned the bizarre sky of the flow. It was hard to make out anything against that background, through the intervening ribbons and sheets of color.

  Finally he picked it out. At this range it was just a black dot, but Teldin’s mind and memory filled in the details: a grossly swollen black body and the eight angular legs that gave the deathspider its name. Teldin fought the desperate urge to turn aside, to cover his eyes … to hide, but there was no safety in that. He struggled to force down the terrible memories that threatened to paralyse him. “Fear is the great killer,” his grandfather had once told him. “Conquer that, and the battle is halfway yours.” How would the old man deal with this, he wondered, a foe he’d never known existed, in an environment he could never have imagined? Very well, more than likely, Teldin admitted with grim humor. In any case, the thought of the old man’s calm wisdom seemed to lend him strength. He forced the fear from his mind and observed.

  “When did we drop to tactical speed?” Aelfred asked. “I had the alert bell rung as soon as the ship was sighted,” Sweor Tobregdan answered.

  Aelfred looked upward at the overhead. “What heading the deathspider?” he bellowed.

  After a moment, the answer echoed down from above – presumably from the spotter on the forecastle, or maybe relayed down from the high lookout in the crow’s nest atop the mast. “Still directly toward us.”

  The first mate glanced over at Estriss and nodded in answer to a silent order. “Hard a-port,” he boomed.

  It was impossible to sense the ship’s maneuver from watching the flow itself, but the black spot that was the deathspider shifted slowly to the right until it vanished behind the bulkhead.

  “We should fight this from the forecastle,” Aelfred said grimly.

  “It’s a fight, then?” This from Sylvie.

  Aelfred raised an eyebrow skeptically. “With neogi? Of course it’s a fight.” He looked around the bridge. “Sylvie, stay below. Sweor, head aft. If we have visitors, I want you in command.” Without a further word, he strode to one of the ladders that led up to the forecastle and started to climb. The others – Estriss, Bubbo and Liono – followed him, while Sweor left through the aft door.

  Teldin hesitated. What about him? He wasn’t an officer, not strictly speaking, but Aelfred, Estriss, and the others certainly seemed to accept him as more than just another crewman. He had no battle station duties – at least, nobody had told him what they were. Probably the best thing he could do would be to stay belowdecks and keep out of everyone’s way, but he wanted to see what was happening. He didn’t think he could stand knowing there was a neogi ship out there, apparently closing for the attack, but not being able to see how the battle was going. He didn’t want to depend on what little information might trickle down to him. That was a sure recipe for madness.

  Besides, Aelfred hadn’t specifically told him to stay on the bridge, or to go anywhere else, for that matter. Teldin looked over at Sylvie, who was still standing by the map table. The lovely half-elf seemed to sense his scrutiny, and his thoughts. “I don’t think they’ll mind if you go up,” she said with a quick smile. “Just stay out of the way.”

  Teldin returned her smile. “Sometimes I think that’s what I’m best at.” He scrambled up the portside ladder.

  The. forecastle turret was fully manned – Dana was among the four-person crew, Teldin noticed – and the heavy ballista had been pivoted around to point roughly astern. The large weapon had been cranked back, and a huge bolt placed in position, ready for a shot as soon as the enemy drew into range.

  Estriss, Aelfred, Bubbo, and Liono were at the aft rail of the forecastle, near the mainmast. The first mate had a spyglass to his eye. Teldin moved aft, just close enough so he could hear their conversation, but not close enough to get in anyone’s way. He squatted down, his back against the sloped metal wall of the turret. He looked out into the flow in the direction that Aelfred’s glass and the ballista were pointing. It didn’t take him long to spot the neogi vessel. It was still too far away to show as anything other than a black dot … but wasn’t that dot looking bigger?

  “She’s still closing,” Aelfred was saying. “She’s fast, faster than the Probe.” He lowered the spyglass and glanced over at Estriss. “No,” he responded to a silent question from the illithid. “Vila’s on the Helm. Thorn just got off duty, so he can’t do anything.” A pause – obviously another question. Aelfred frowned and shook his head. “No,” he replied definitely. “We’d be faster if Vallus took the helm, but not much. Probably not enough to make a difference. Plus we’d lose ground during the changeover.” He bared his teeth in an expression that mixed smile with snarl. “And finally, I want Vallus’s spells. They’re the only equalizer we’ve got.”

  Even through his fear, Teldin was able to notice – and be fascinated by – the dynamics of power that occurred between Estriss and Aelfred. The illithid was captain of the Probe, and everyone including Aelfred treated the creature with deference and respect, … but it seemed as though the captaincy might be in name only. Certainly, Aelfred seemed to have taken over the reins of command at the moment, and Estriss appeared unconcerned and uninclined to challenge his authority. Why is that? Teldin wondered. Because the crew would rather follow a human master? No, that didn’t make sense. When Estriss issued orders, all the crew obeyed them willingly.

  Wasn’t it more likely that Estriss knew his own limitations and was acting within them? After all, by his own admission, the illithid was a scholar. What would a scholar be expected to know about ship-to-ship combat, particularly in this alien environment? Aelfred, on the other hand, was a mercenary, a warrior by trade and inclination. He’d be much more likely to respond correctly in a combat situation, more likely to give the correct orders, and to give them in a manner in which they’d be instantly obeyed.

  He returned his attention to the group by the mainmast. Aelfred was speaking again. “All right, we have no doubts. The deathspider can outrun us. So what do we do about it? Turn and engage?” He looked one by one at the other officers.

  Liono, the Probe’s tactician, answered. “No,” he said resolutely. “We run, as fast and as long as we can.”

  Why? The illithid’s question formed in Teldin’s brain. In discussions like this, Estriss must broadcast his thoughts to everyone nearby, he concluded. Why run? Estriss asked again. They will catch us
eventually. You have said so.

  “That’s so,” Liono agreed, “but think. Most of a deathspider’s weaponry aims aft. If this is a standard configuration, all they’ve got that fires forward are two ballistae. Aft, they’ve got two ballistae plus a heavy catapult and a heavy jettison.”

  “Lot of firepower,” Bubbo rumbled.

  Liono nodded. “The only way to keep us out of its arc of fire is to stay ahead of the deathspider,” he said, “and the only way to guarantee that …”

  “— is run,” Aelfred finished.

  “Right,” Liono confirmed. “When they draw closer, we can fire on them.”

  “And they on us,” Aelfred reminded the tactician. “Bubbo, can we hurt them?”

  The huge man looked doubtful. “Some,” he grumbled through his beard. “Maybe not enough. Big ship. With the forward catapult, we’ll hurt’em more.”

  Teldin understood what the huge weapons master was getting at. In a chase, the forward heavy catapult was masked by the rest of the hull and couldn’t fire on an enemy approaching from astern. If the Probe had its bow to the enemy, on the other hand, all three heavy weapons could be brought to bear.

  Aelfred was silent. He didn’t look happy with what he’d heard, finally he squared his shoulders and announced, “We’re going to turn and close, hit’em with everything we’ve got on tie way in, and try to disable their grappling rams in case that’s what they’ve got in mind, I want to get in close enough for Vallus to do what he can.” He gripped Liono’s shoulder. “Your points were well taken, old friend,” he told the small tactician. “We’ll do our damnedest to stay out of their rear arc, but we’ve got to hit’em hard. Who knows? Maybe they haven’t got the stomach for a foe that wants to fight.”

  Echoes of Horvath and the Unquenchable, Teldin thought uncomfortably,

  Liono didn’t seem convinced either. “Neogi?”

  Aelfred slapped him on the back. “There’s a first time for everything.” Now that the decision had been made, the big first mate – acting captain? – was in much better spirits. He raised his voice and yelled, “Weapons forward! Prepare to come about!”

  From the main deck,, crewmen clambered into the rigging, while others pulled on ropes to trim the ship’s small sails. The hammership turned. As before, there was no sensation of movement, but the black dot of the neogi vessel swung through the sky until it was almost directly ahead of the Probe. With the vessels now speeding toward each other, the death-spider seemed to jump closer. Within a dozen heartbeats Teldin could make out the spindly “legs” that made up the vessel’s grappling ram.

  Aelfred was speaking quietly to Estriss, giving bearings and small course adjustments. Presumably the illithid was mentally relaying these to the helmsman two decks below and to the crew still in the rigging. The neogi ship shifted, then finally settled down off the port bow.

  The forward turret rumbled as the ballista crew turned their weapon around. The same was happening with the aft turret’s heavy catapult. For the first time, Teldin saw that the old man, Shandess, was part of the five-man catapult crew. Corded muscles stood out in his thin arms as he threw his weight against the massive weapon.

  “Bubbo,” Aelfred barked, “the weapons are yours. Fire as soon as we’re in range. Aim for the head. If you can damage the helm, we’ve won.”

  Bubbo scowled. “I think gnomes messed with the ballista,” he grumbled.

  “Too late to worry about that now,” Aelfred pointed out. Then he grinned. “Maybe they’ve improved things.”

  The big man didn’t look reassured, but he nodded. He squinted into the flow-light, estimating the distance to the enemy. “Soon,” he growled.

  “Estriss,” Aelfred went on, “get Vallus up here.”

  “Already done.” Teldin turned at the soft but carrying voice. Vallus Leafbower stepped off the ladder that led to the main deck and joined the others on the forecastle.

  “What can you do to that?” Aelfred stabbed a finger toward the deathspider.

  The elf thought silently for a moment, then answered slowly, “I have several spells that should help the issue. The fact that we’re in the flow limits me considerably, you understand.”

  “I understand. How close do we have to be?”

  Vallus appraised the distance, a frown creasing his brow. “Closer than this,” he replied.

  Aelfred chuckled mirthlessly. “Oh, we’ll get closer,” he told the elf mage. “You’re on your own, Vallus. You know better than me how to handle the magic side of it. Do whatever you can to give them trouble. If you can take out their helmsman, do it.”

  The elf nodded. “I’ll do what I can.” The first mate turned away to study the approaching enemy.

  The deathspider was nearer, and Teldin was able to make out more details. Multiple round ports were set into the vessel’s head. They glowed a sullen red, like inhuman eyes filled with hatred and blood-lust. Rigging was strung between the upper two pairs of legs: diaphanous sails that could almost be made of cobwebs, linked by silvery ropes. The ship’s bulging abdomen seemed to have taken on a dull red tinge. Perhaps it was just the flow-light reflecting off it, or maybe it was light from within transmitted through the deathspider’s crystalline hull. The overall effect was horrific, threatening. Even if Teldin hadn’t known what he did about the neogi, there was no way he could picture any race using such a ship as anything but rapacious and evil.

  To Teldin, it seemed that the rate of approach had slowed somewhat. Perhaps Aelfred was right and the horrors aboard the spidership were hesitant about dealing with a vessel that turned to the attack rather than fled. Or, more likely, the creatures were just being cautious. Why rush into something when there was little or nothing to be gained through speed?

  It was difficult to judge the range accurately, both because of the shifting background and because the head-on attitude of the deathspider gave precious little detail from which to judge distance. Nevertheless, Teldin guessed the enemy was now less than ten thousand paces distant.

  Bubbo had borrowed Aelfred’s spyglass and had it trained on the approaching vessel. Now he lowered it and roared,

  “Catapults away!”

  Teldin turned to watch the aft catapult. Shandess pulled the lever that fired the heavy weapon. The catapult’s arm pivoted forward and up, slowly at first but picking up speed at a frightening rate. Then the arm reached the full extent of its travel and slammed into the forward stop with an echoing boom. The massive stone that had been loaded into the cup at the end of the arm shot clear. Teldin heard it whistle overhead, barely clearing the rigging, as it hurtled slightly to port, directly at the deathspider. Almost simultaneously, he heard the forward catapult fire. He tried to follow the flight of the two stones, but quickly lost them against the turbulence of the phlogiston.

  Bubbo had the spyglass back to his eye. “Two clean hits,” he announced after a few moments, satisfaction apparent in his voice. “One to the head.” Teldin tried to imagine the impact of one of those massive catapult stones, the splintered timber and shattered crystal. How could anything weather such a blow? The deathspider seemed unaffected, though – at least, any damage was totally invisible from this distance – and continued on its course.

  The aft catapult crew was at work reloading the massive weapon. Four burly crewmen were heaving on two mighty windlasses, winching the catapult arm back toward its cocked position, while Shandess stood ready to lock it into place. It was slow work, and Teldin could sense their intensity.

  He turned forward. The ballista crew in the forecastle turret was tense, ready. The weapon was cocked, ready to fire, and the head gunner was squinting along the length of the huge bolt, checking the accuracy of his aim. There was something different about the ballista’s appearance, Teldin noted for the first time. It seemed more complex, somehow. He couldn’t immediately identify what the changes were, but they made the heavy weapon look even more dangerous than ever.

  After a moment, he saw what he knew to be the source of th
ose changes. Dana was crouched by the firing lanyard, apparently making some quick adjustments to the mechanism. As if sensing Teldin’s gaze on her, the gnome turned, and their eyes met. If the eyes are truly windows to the soul, then it seemed as though imminent danger had opened the shutters.

  Teldin felt Dana’s emotions hit him like a physical shock. Fear and determination were there, of course, but these were in the background. At the forefront were feelings directed at Teldin: respect and affection … and something more than affection. Shaken, Teldin gave the small woman a reassuring smile, then turned away. Now wasn’t the time to deal with this new complexity, later, maybe. If there was a later.

  “Range?” Aelfred snapped.

  “A thousand paces,” Bubbo rumbled. “Closing.”

  The first mate nodded. “Now it gets interesting.”

  There was no warning, nothing to prepare Teldin for what happened next. Suddenly, shockingly, something tore through the rigging above his head. Canvas ripped, and a secondary boom shattered, raining wood splinters onto the deck. Instinctively, Teldin ducked below the rail, shielding his head with his arms. He heard something else whoosh harmlessly overhead.

  “I take it we’re in ballista range,” Aelfred said dryly.

  “Ballista away!” Bubbo ordered.

  The head gunner checked the aim a final time, then nodded to Dana. The gnome pulled the lanyard. With a force that Teldin could feel through the deck, the huge bow fired and the bolt, with its massive metal head, hissed toward the enemy ship. Before the bow limbs had stopped quivering, the crew had leaped to the windlass and were winching the bowstring back for another shot.

  “Hit!” Bubbo called. “Good hit!” He stared at Dana with undisguised surprise.

  Both catapults fired again, within a few heartbeats of each other. This time Teldin had better success tracking the shots. One massive stone flew wide, passing harmlessly below the deathspider’s head. The second, though, flew straight and true, smashing into the hideous ship at the base of one of the legs. The leg tilted drunkenly, but didn’t come away from the hull.