Tristan sighed, fighting the ship in the strangling cravat of his formal uniform wasn’t going to be fun, but like so many of their other rules and practices, they had returned to the tradition of the officers going into battle in formal dress. It had been common in the First Great Age of Sail and now in the Second Age, the old traditions were being followed. He’d heard arguments for and against it, but Thom had told him one night over backgammon that he’d known crews that had been vastly outnumbered fight all that much harder because they were in their formal uniforms reserved for battle and special occasions. Thom even admitted it helped him get ready for battle. “It’s like putting on your armor before a battle, it lets you know you are going into a fight, Tristan,” he’d said. Tristan believed him.
Thom finished his coffee and set his cup down. “Do you want to come?” he asked, looking at Tristan.
“Of course.” Tristan stood.
The communications room was on the same deck as Tristan’s quarters, set in the center of the ship in a small room next to where the mainmast rose through the ship. As they approached, a small group that was gathered outside the room dashed away. Thom grumbled under his breath, but let them go. When he reached the door, he didn’t bother to announce himself, instead keying his private code into the door and letting it slide open. The comm officer on duty was the only one in the room.
“Captain!” he said in surprise.
“How much chatter has been getting out?” Thom snapped.
“None that I know of, I’ve had the earphones on the whole time, no one should be able to hear what’s going on…” He paled.
“What is it?” Tristan asked.
“Unless someone hacked the line. I never thought of that!” The man’s hands flew over the panel in front of him—as Tristan watched lights flickered on and off, turning red to green to yellow. “I’ve locked it down and scrambled it, sir.”
“Thank you, Marble, can you open the fleet-wide channel?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What about someone overhearing?” Tristan asked Thom.
“The secondary door closed behind us, the room is soundproof now. It’s not a precaution we usually use, but I think in this case we need it.”
“Channel is coming online, sir,” Marble said.
“This is Marauder we’ve taken heavy damage, we’re pulling back.
Get out of there, Mike! You don’t stand a chance, we’re sending in Lightning to aid your retreat.
Look out, Venture, you’ve got a heavy cruiser bearing down in your six.
We see it, we’re braced for attack, they’re trying to break the line here.
My god! Did you see that? We’ve lost Sirius, repeat, we’ve lost Sirius.”
“Sirius? They’re in trouble,” Thom said.
“I made her sails, she was one of the few ships of the line left after the Jupiter Incursion,” Tristan said. “They came to us for a complete re-Weaving while she was in dry dock.”
“If the whole fleet is out, that means that Sirius, Orion, Betelgeuse, Polaris, Rigel and Regulus are holding the line. I’m not sure which frigates are out for sure, or if they are already there.” Thom frowned. “We have Surprise and Leopard with us. Cook and Harkins contacted us and said that several of the letters of marque are heading into the battle.”
Tristan nodded, half listening to Thom and half to the chatter of the battle. He didn’t need to see the grim look on Thom’s face to know that things were going badly for the fleet. As they listened, another ship called that they had to fall back, then came the most chilling communication yet.
“What the hell is that? God! They’re hooking the dragons! Someone get in there and cut that damn line. Don’t let them take the dragons. Odyssey break off with five corvettes and break those lines. Don’t let them take the dragons. Cut the lines—and if you can’t do that you know the standing order from Darius.”
Tristan sucked in a breath. He couldn’t imagine it was going that badly. The “standing order” was “If a dragon is going to be taken by the Vermin and there is no way to free the dragon, the Navy has permission to kill the dragon to spare them the horror of what awaits them.” It had been there waiting, even during the Jupiter Incursion, but it had never been tested. If the Vermin were actively hunting the dragons, Tristan could see where they might not have a choice. “Thom…” he said, unable to hide the horror in his voice.
“I know, Tristan.”
“We’re on the outer edges of visual, sir,” Marble said.
“Let’s see.” Thom looked gray.
The screen in front of them flickered to life. To Tristan it really made no sense. He could see bright sparks, and the softer glow of sails—at least he assumed that’s what he was seeing. “What’s happening?” he asked when he saw the look on Thom’s face.
“The fleet’s getting a pounding,” Thom said grimly. He pointed to a line of glowing objects. “These are the big ships, the Orion and others in her class, these are the frigates,” he said indicating a group of smaller objects. “And these,” he ran a hand along the breath of the battle, “are the little ships, the corvettes and other small gunboats that serve to protect the bigger ships and go in and hit the Vermin hard and get out fast. They have fast engines in addition to the sails, so they can zip in and out of the lines.”
“What’s that?” Tristan pointed to a shadow across the stars.
“That’s the Vermin fleet.” Thom leaned closer to the screen. “There are a lot of them. They all seem to be circling around this area.” His hand covered a huge black spot. “That would be their big ship or ships. It’s hard to tell this far out, but those are the ones that took out the Constellation.”
Tristan watched the screen. As they got closer to the battle, he could make out the Vermin ships, dark sails over darker decks. He could also make out the dragons, diving between the ships, now and then settling on a Vermin vessel and tearing it to shreds. They were focusing on the smaller ships; the big ships in the center—it turned out to be three ships—were still untouched by navel fire and the dragons.
“We need to get ready,” Thom said, straightening. “I’ll change and meet you on deck.” He punched a button on the comm. “We are fifteen minutes out from the fleet,” he said over the ship-wide system. “All hands prepare for battle.”
Tristan walked out and back to his room. His heart was pounding. Hearing the reports of the dragons being taken was unsettling and he worried about Fenfyr and Taminick. The grim look on Thom’s face didn’t help his nerves, the man looked like he was preparing for his death. For all his words of comfort and assurance, Thom wasn’t sure they could win this battle.
Fenfyr was waiting for him when he opened the door. “Fen!” He walked quickly to the dragon and leaned against him as Fenfyr touched him gently with his head tufts and curled a claw around him.
“I thought we should speak before the battle,” the dragon said softly. “We know things are not going well, Tris, and I’m worried about you.”
“And I’m worried about you. We heard over the comm that the Vermin are hooking dragons and trying to drag them in.”
“Yes, we were informed of this. The big ships in the center of the battle are the ones who are trying to take my kind. Darius is trying to decide the best way to deal with the situation.”
“This ship, Fenfyr, we should help, this is what Winged Victory was designed to do.”
“I know, and we have the other ships with us who are fresh to the battle. No one, not even the Navy, is expecting the Victory, so the element of surprise is on our side.” The dragon sighed softly. “You will take care of yourself, Tris? Promise me.”
“I have to fight the ship,” Tristan said, leaning against the dragon.
“I know you do, and I have to fight, too, this is our first battle together. At least it’s not like the bombing.”
“What are you talking about?” Tristan turned enough so he could see Fenfyr.
“I was helpless to stop that—we had been
talking half an hour before and I was at the Compound talking with Darius when one of the members of the Stars Plot contacted him. He said that he hoped we had wished the Guild Masters goodbye because it was over for them. No more than a minute later we heard the explosion. I flew as fast as I could,” Fenfyr paused, sighing softly, the dragon equivalent of silent tears. “When I got there the council hall was gone, there was human blood everywhere. I was there before any of the rescue teams, Darius was right behind me, and we started moving the rubble. I found you.”
“Fen…”
“This is easier, Tristan. I know we are walking into battle, it’s not like that day when we were laughing together and then the world exploded.” Fenfyr tapped him with his head tufts. “I am not saying it will be easy, but I know Thom is a fighter, I know you are a fighter and I know…”
“That I am not letting anything get through to you, sir,” Riggan said, appearing out of nowhere as always. “I have your uniform ready.”
“Thank you, Riggan.” Tristan changed his shirt and coat in the main room so he could spend as much time before the battle with Fenfyr as he could. Once he had his formal uniform on, he leaned back into the dragon’s embrace. “I’m not ready, Fen.”
“Yes, you are, Tris, you are more ready than you know,” the dragon assured him. “You’ll see.”
The call to quarters rapped out over the ship-wide system followed by Shearer’s voice. “All hands to battle stations.”
“Be careful, Fenfyr.” Tristan said, running his hand over the dragon’s head.
“You too, Tris,” Fenfyr said, gently nudging him with his nose. “Watch out for yourself and the Weaver, Riggan.”
“Of course, Master Fenfyr, we will see you at the victory celebration.”
“Yes,” the dragon said and with one more small nudge, slipped out the stern gallery windows.
Tristan took a breath and tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. It was hard knowing what they were heading into, letting Fenfyr go. He knew the dragon had fought in battles before—in fact he’d been with Darius at the Jupiter Incursion—but somehow seeing it, experiencing it made it so much more real. He squared his shoulders and headed to the stairs and up onto the quarterdeck.
Thom was already there, waiting by the Elemental Interface. “I’m taking the helm personally, Tristan, I know this ship better than anyone, so together we should be able to manage it well.”
Tristan nodded. “Good idea.” He stepped up to the Interface, he realized that he could see the flash of fire and the sparkling glow of ships sails in the distance. He could see the crew and guns on the main deck, and the bright red of the Marines uniforms scattered throughout them all. On the quarterdeck the officers stood waiting while three gunner’s mates manned the rear guns.
“Are you ready?” Thom asked.
“Yes,” Tristan said firmly. He didn’t have any other choice.
Before he could put his hands on the Interface, and before Thom stepped the three paces to the helm, the captain held out his hand. “If something goes wrong, Tristan, I just want you to know it’s been a pleasure to serve with you.”
“It’s been a pleasure to serve with you, Thom. Don’t get yourself killed.”
“You either.” The captain squeezed Tristan’s hand again and stepped to the helm.
Tristan put his hands on the Elemental Interface and spoke the spell to ready the willowisps for the battle.
“Incoming vessel identify yourself!” a voice snapped over the comm.
“This is Captain Thom Barrett in the Winged Victory, we’re coming straight in, can you keep the small stuff off us?”
“Winged Victory? I have no ship…” The communications broke off for a moment. “Yes, sir, Victory.”
“Well, Tristan,” Thom looked over with a smile. “Here we go.”
XXXI
The Winged Victory was drawing near the edge of the chaos of the battle when Thom requested the fleet-wide comm to be piped onto deck, so they could keep track of the action. The chatter continued for three minutes before a shocked “My God, what the hell is that ship?!?!” came over the system and all the noise fell silent.
“They weren’t expecting us,” Thom said with a grin.
“That’s good.” Tristan smiled back.
The Victory had reached the edge of the battle, and they backed off their speed, giving the Naval ships a chance to get out of their way as they drove in towards the front lines. A small frigate passed by, its sails tattered and hull broken. Tristan looked away, knowing he couldn’t dwell on that now, or worry about helping them. The hospital ships were hanging at the back of the fleet and the smaller ship was limping towards them, he hoped they reached them in time.
The fleet-wide chatter started again. Tristan tried to guess where the ships were by watching the action in front of him. He quickly gave up. Space around them was full of ships and weapons’ fire. Dark Vermin vessels were shadowing some of the smaller ships and then suddenly the ship would disappear in a flash of bright light. He swallowed and looked where they were heading to the massive dark shapes of the Vermin heavy cruisers. As he watched, something flashed out from one of the ships, heading towards a dragon fighting alongside Naval ship. A black line caught the dragon’s wing and began reeling it in. Before he could say anything another Navy ship—he guessed it was the Odyssey and her back-up—headed straight for the dragon, then skimmed between the dragon and the Vermin ships—a moment later the dragon pulled free. Tristan swallowed hard, knowing Fenfyr would soon be close to those ships.
Something rocked the ship—a small Vermin gunboat had managed to work its way inside the fleet and was firing at every ship it passed. One of the Navy’s small corvettes swooped in behind it and started firing. The Victory moved on, passing up the smaller battles for the main line of the war.
The fire got thicker as they got closer. The Naval boats were giving way as they moved through, but the Vermin were now targeting the Victory, trying to keep them from reaching the front line. Tristan heard a distant thump as shot pounded the lower decks. So far, Thom had not returned fire. Tristan wondered what he was up to, but trusted him and carefully kept the willowisps in line, knowing this sedate pace and seemingly simple cruise would not last for long.
He could see the big ships of the Stellar class, the largest ships the fleet had—before they built the Winged Victory. Smaller ships wove in and out between them, and Tristan could make out the debris of what had been the Sirius.
“This is Barrett of the Winged Victory,” Thom said. Shot slammed against the ship.
“Welcome, Thom,” Admiral O’Brian replied. “My flag is on Polaris. We’ve been waiting for you.”
“We came as fast as we could, Admiral, thanks for leaving a few for us,” Thom said confidently. Tristan saw the crew on deck grin.
“We couldn’t have you cut your teeth on a few leftovers, could we?” O’Brian joked, but Tristan could hear the strain in his voice.
“Thank you, sir,” Thom said.
“We’ll do our best to keep them off your back. The big one in the center is the one taking the dragons. So far we’ve saved most of the dragons, though we’re pretty sure they’ve hooked a few.”
“Yes, sir!” Thom looked over at Tristan. The glance said volumes. The fleet was losing, the rumors had been right. If the heavy Vermin cruisers decided to move against the fleet, it wouldn’t be a question of running, there wouldn’t be anything or anyone left to run.
Thom thumbed on the ship-wide systems. “All hands prepare to engage.” He put his hands on the helm. “We’re heading in, Admiral.”
“Dragon speed, Thom.”
Tristan turned his attention back to the Elemental Interface, he slipped his hands into the battle straps and braced himself as the ship came up on the large Naval vessels. The Vermin shots aimed at Victory had stopped and that was worrying Tristan. Something flashed in his peripheral vision and he saw Fenfyr, Taminick and the huge mass of Darius beside them. There were tw
o other dragons the size of Darius that Tristan had never seen before. They closed in formation with the others and plowed through the Navel line as Victory broke through.
As soon as the Winged Victory passed the Polaris the Vermin opened fire. The smaller ships—about the size of the Navy’s frigates—opened up with full broadsides that slammed into the hull over and over. Then the fire changed, the shot heading up over their heads. Tristan sensed a hole in the sails and turned to repair it, focusing on the willowisps. Another round and more holes tore through them. The shot the Vermin were using seemed to be designed to destroy the sails. Over the screams on deck, Tristan found it hard to concentrate.
“Tristan, you need to strengthen the sails,” Thom shouted. Tristan glanced over, blood was running over Thom’s face.
“I don’t know if I…” Tristan stopped when the Vermin ship in the center fired its hook again. The vile thing shot out and caught a dragon and began dragging it towards the ship. Tristan recognized Taminick’s bright red against the dark sails. Before the ships could move in to help, another dragon was there, putting himself between the Vermin ship and Taminick. Another Vermin vessel approached, firing on them, and the dragon turned and attacked the small gunboat. Killing it, he left it floating as he turned his attention back to the red dragon struggling desperately to get free. The dragon flew back and snapped the black line between his teeth. As he did, another hook flew out and caught him, even as Taminick tried to pull away. The other dragon was being reeled in and when she tried to help him, he shoved her away. “No! Fenfyr!” Tristan screamed.
Tristan started to shift the sails to move the Winged Victory to where Fenfyr was being dragged helplessly through space. The sails responded, catching the Winds, and the ship started to turn. As it began a slow turn, Tristan caught sight of the embattled fleet, the Rigel currently under heavy fire. He knew he couldn’t do what he was about to do and risk the entire fleet. With one last look at Fenfyr, he turned away and let the Odyssey and her companions do their job, trying not to think about Fenfyr being taken by the Vermin. Instead he focused that energy into the spell to strengthen the sails. He could feel the willowisps beginning to Weave themselves into a new configuration.
The Sail Weaver Page 27
