Max awoke to the sound of the bell ringing above his head. Or more accurately, to Wynn elbowing him in the side and alerting him that the bell was ringing. He reached up blearily and retrieved the handset.
“This is the captain,” he announced.
“Captain, we’ve spotted a ship,” Jan answered through the phone. Despite her age and the passing hours she seemed as lively as she had been when he had left the bridge.
“Alright, I’m on my way.” He hung up and began searching in the dark for his shirt.
“What’s going on?” Wynn asked.
“They spotted a ship.”
“I’m coming too.” She jumped out of bed and began putting on her own clothes. Moments later they entered the bridge together. Although it was still dark Max could spot the horizon beginning to brighten through the windows.
“Captain,” Jan nodded. “Master Wynn.”
“Where’s the ship?” Wynn asked, her eagerness showing.
“They’re five or six miles off the bow, two o’clock. It’s a black transport with a white circle marking, just like the kid said.”
“Time to intercept?”
“Ten minutes,” Jan answered.
“I’ll get my marines ready,” Wynn announced before she turned to leave the bridge.
“Sound a general alert,” Max ordered. Klaxons blared across the ship, prompting a flurry of activity. Below the bridge’s forward viewport a squad of crew ran out onto the deck and began priming the ship’s cannon.
“Can you take it from here captain?” Jan asked wearily.
Max appraised her, finding that the elderly woman’s boundless energy seemed to have found a bound at last. “Yes ma’am. You can go get some sleep.”
“Thank you Captain. And remember, that transport could be full of prisoners,” she added, eyeing the forward cannon as the crew swung it towards the target.
“Of course. Great work Jan.” She gave him a smart salute and exited the bridge. A few moments later she was replaced by another navigator, a young man who had yet to reach his twentieth birthday.
Max stared through the forward viewport. The sun was now beginning to rise, beams of light peeking over the horizon. As it did the sea suddenly began to turn the color of golden fire. As the light rose he spotted a black speck off the bow, at two o’clock, just as Jan had said.
As they caught up to the ship the speck began to enlarge and come into view. It was much larger than the Lightning-hound, its enormous gas chambers provided enough lift to carry huge amounts of freight. Underneath the bulbous chambers hung a wide and shallow cargo section, with long wings extending outwards. Propellers on the wings provided the ship’s thrust, but not enough to keep them from aerodynamically superior Norlander patrol craft.
“Fire a warning show across their bow,” Max ordered. The communications officer on deck relayed the command. A moment later the cannon came to life, a thunderous shot erupting with a cloud of smoke.
The shot was a special incendiary round, bright enough that the crew of the transport would spot it. The shot sailed past the transport’s nose, but the black ship did not slow. Neither did they show any change of course or other signs of activity. Max took the phone from the communication’s officer and flipped a switch on the wall, changing it to a ship-wide broadcast.
“This is the Captain. All boarding parties prepare for action.” Below decks he knew that Wynn would already have her marines ready to go. He turned away from the phone when suddenly a bell rung out. He turned back and took the handset to his ear.
“Captain, this is the watchman. We have another ship coming up on us from behind.” Max immediately hung up and went to the rear viewport. He spotted the ship immediately, the morning light reflecting brightly against the bottom of its polished hull. It was hard to make out the ship’s shape, as its heading was bringing it straight on. But he could tell that it was not a Black Company vessel. Whoever it belonged to it was catching up to them fast.
“Helm, how hard are we pushing?” Max asked.
The pilot glanced at his throttle. “Eighty percent, captain.”
“Push it to one hundred.” Max felt a slight vibration underfoot as the ship accelerated. He turned and stared at the ship approaching from behind, but it’s form did not recede. If anything it was catching up to them even quicker.
“Captain, if we don’t slow down we’ll pass the transport,” the pilot informed him.
“Cut the propellers. About face,” Max ordered. He went to the phone and dialed the gunnery sergeant.
“Sergeant, we’re turning around. I want you to target the ship coming up on us.”
“Yes, sir,” came the man’s gravelly voice. The Lightning-hound swung around, the ship tilting slightly diagonally at the extreme turn. The ship coming up on them came into view from the forward viewport. The ship coming at them was broad, with two huge flat wings, one on top and one on the bottom, that each were longer than the ship was tall. It had six propellers suspended between the wings, the blades turning from within highly aerodynamic nacelles. Max had an extensive knowledge of every ship in every nation’s navy on Kaeliterra, knowledge which was required of any Norlander captain, and yet he had never seen a ship like this before. It looked more like an air mantis than an airship, herds of which travelled endlessly between the four worlds.
He removed a pair of binoculars from the wall, granting himself a closer look. The sun still glinted off the strange ship’s hull, making it hard to tell what kind of markings or paint it had. His eyes widened as he realized that twin panels were retracting from the top and bottom halves of the ship’s hull, and two long barrels extended.
He ran to the phone, but was too late. He couldn’t hear the shots as the enemy ship opened fire, but he felt the ship shake as an explosion rocked the nose of the ship, throwing debris and shrapnel into the air.
He grabbed the phone but did not have a chance to dial the gunnery sergeant before their own cannon fired, a much more familiar blast rocking against the windows. He turned to look as their shot struck the enemy ship. There was an explosion, but when the smoke cleared the enemy ship seemed undamaged, only a blackened smudge on the hull to show for their effort.
Another shot erupted from the one of the enemies’ cannons. This round struck the upper deck, sending metallic debris smashing against the windows on the bridge, cracking but not penetrating them.
“Helm, drop altitude, head north. Get our back to them.”
“Sir, our cannon won’t be able to hit them from behind.”
“Our little cannon didn’t even dent them. We need to drop fast and gain speed as we go.”
“Yes sir.” Smoke was rising from the forward section of the ship, and Max had to fight the urge to abandon the bridge. A terrible thought, Wynn would have been down there, repeatedly invaded his thoughts as black smoke continued to pour from the ship..
As they dropped the enemy ship kept its altitude, apparently content to let them go. Max went over to the navigation table and grabbed a red pencil. He scribbled a quick circle, marking their current position and making it possible to put together an accurate report. If we make it back home in order file a report.“I want a damage report,” he yelled across the bridge.
“Yes sir,” the communications officer said, going to the phone. Max stared at the chart, at the empty space where one of the islands on Jan’s old chart should have been. They had been mere hours from reaching it.
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