Dawn of Steam: Gods of the Sun (21 page)

For some, that time can wait as long as possible, for we have done well enough in surviving so far without such a large risk. For others, I think, that time cannot come soon enough, for some of us tire quickly of surviving under these conditions, and some would prefer to be done with it either way.

The skies are dark, and the days are short. For the Maori, who prefer to attack at dusk or dawn, this is a perfect time for combat. Miss Penn tells us that they see the changes in the skies as portent that now is a time for war and warriors and that only with victory will better skies for farmers and growth appear again. Some even jest that a difficult growing season is little problem right now, for there will be far fewer people to feed by the time this war is over. I fear this is true, and no matter how much I am put on edge by these people and their ways of war, I cannot take any spirit in their black humor.

As ever, I keep to this difficult path for hope that soon I shall be able to return to you a free and honored man, my love. Right now, I think I need your light more than ever.

My love, always,

Gregory Conan Watts

From the journals of Gregory Conan Watts,

June 7th, 1816

37º03' S 175º53' E

Tragedy. We have suffered our first defeat, and it is a crushing one. We are not yet lost, but the people about us are dispirited so greatly that we may well lose the war for lack of an inspired people to fight beside. We have spent so long building up their hopes, whether that was our wish or not, making them believe that they – and we – could win against crushing numbers and odds, and now all that effort may be lost.

We attacked with the dawn, having scouted out the largest of the French fortifications so far, though it is not yet their main base. We saw numbers which would be difficult, but not impossible, to defeat and fell back to prepare the winged flanks, which have proven effective so far, and to which the Maori have adapted well. We had covered most of the distance before things fell apart. The fortress doors, instead of providing protection, proved camouflage. It opened suddenly to reveal vast numbers of opposing Maori warriors – and with them, the trackless engine which has so far proved our bane.

Some of our warriors fled right then, though most carried on. They crashed into the wave of their opposing number with great ferocity, but this time met no hesitation from the enemy. Suddenly the field was not as we had planned it, but filled with fighting, and Miss Coltrane could not help support our troops, needing to see to Wyndham's engine instead.

At the commotion, our flankers closed in, quickly realizing the plan had failed catastrophically. The muskets were little use by this point, for the field was a tangled mess, though they were able, once they understood Eddy's direction, to begin shooting opposing muskets down from the walls of the enemy fortification, which at least prevented them from continuing to pick off the edges of our numbers. Eddy did not hesitate, finding himself a stand and firing his rounds into the battle, with Matthew supporting him as best he could. This too gave some of our strongest fighters a chance, for Eddy dropped their foes from before them, letting them cut deeper into the enemy ranks and break up their line. It also left Eddy in a more vulnerable position than he's used to, with no chance to prepare his position in advance.

Miss Bowe and her fellows charged without hesitation, crashing into the ranks, and at first seemed to shift the battle. Then, from all around us, more enemy Maori emerged, screaming and pressing our position, much as we had done to their outlying fortresses many times. We were now hemmed in, and Eddy was forced to alternate firing one way and then the other, at much closer range than he is accustomed to.

Miss Bowe and the most renowned Maori warriors of our ranks suddenly found themselves in the position of not so much trying to fight their way to the enemy leadership, but turned about and trying to fight their way free. Many of our number met their end there, stabbed in the back while trying to force a hole in enemy lines.

I was with some part of our rear company, aiding in the fight, but originally responsible mostly for making sure that we held our position and enemies did not escape past us. This time, we found ourselves heavily engaged. More than once, I found myself ducking under spears or war clubs and shooting their warriors in the stomach to fell them quickly and to make myself some space. Each time I had any space, whether I had expended my full four shots or not, I found myself reloading at best opportunity, lest I not have a final shot when I most needed it.

I managed to fight my way nearer to Eddy's musketeers, for they had done the best job, with all their training, at holding ground and keeping the enemy back. My own small group followed, and soon our primary muskets had some support, and the spearmen with me
took up a position guarding our muskets from close-quarters assault.

When the bulk of York's troops had exited the fortress, Wyndham's engine charged into the fray. The engine plowed through the ranks. True to what we've seen of York and his group so far, he showed no regard for his allies, beyond simply wishing to make sure he killed at least as many of ours. This time Miss Coltrane was prepared and got her legs under her just before it struck. She leaped over the engine, landing near the fortress. She tore up a section of their fortress as she turned, launching it at the engine like a spear. The engine was turning about, and her barrage caught it broadside. For a few moments, it seemed like it might tip over, leaving it helpless, but she was not quick enough to follow up, and it found itself on its treads once more.

When the engine finished its turn, she fired repeatedly into its charge, damaging but not stopping it. Likewise, it fired rockets and heavy shells at her, most missing, but at least two shots finding their marks and staggering her. By the time it came upon her, she was reeling enough from the shots that she could not go over it again. Miss Coltrane did manage to not take the collision head on, being grazed aside by the heavy engine. She almost lost her balance – and then surely would have been lost if it had an opportunity to run her over – but managed to keep her feet.

She did manage to pummel the side of the engine as it passed, exposing tears and flaws in the armor, but was not able to fully take advantage of it before it was out of reach and preparing to come about for another charge. While it was preparing, she tore up more of the fortress to use as weapon or defense in their next exchange.

While this fight had mesmerized the field enough to slow the battle and let us gain our bearings, they were soon on us again. Our wall of spears held in most sections, and our muskets were still getting the better of them until one of the enemy warriors rushed into the wall with such force as to impale himself upon two spears deep enough that they could not free their weapons. I do not know if this was his intent when he charged or not, but his suicidal rush opened the way for others to pour into the narrow gap. Though I rushed to try to help hold it, one of my allies had the same idea, and he crashed into my damaged shoulder. Most of the time these days, it does not bother me, but there it went numb, and I lost the handful of musket balls I had in my off hand, intended to reload with, and fell back into our own ranks.

Somewhere in this rash of errors, one of their men got to Eddy, stabbing him in the back with one of those terrible multi-barbed spears of theirs. He fell, almost onto Matthew. As the warrior was preparing to finish Eddy off, Matthew grabbed the nearest weapon, a fallen warrior's club, and lunged for the leg of the much larger Maori. His first swing, even with an eleven-year-old's strength, shattered bone and felled the man. It is fortunate that our own warriors had closed the gap and our muskets had a new line, for Matthew was quite lost in smashing his new club down, again and again, on the Maori he believed had killed his mentor. It was some time before his mad flailing stilled enough that I could forcibly drag him away.

Somewhere in this, Miss Coltrane had had another exchange or two with the engine, both suffering more in the process. As I finally had attention to see their fight again, it was rushing her once more. She managed to mostly move aside, though it clipped her back, creating a tear in the metal itself. She was venting steam at a terrible rate, but had movement enough to turn and smash down upon the area she had heavily damaged earlier with one good arm. Holding a single pointed log from the fortress, she drove it through the opponent's armor deep enough to keep it lodged there. Apparently Wyndham lost his nerve with that, for when he charged past her this time, he did not stop, retreating into the brush and trees more quickly than anyone could hope to follow.

Without Wyndham holding her attention, she fought to our ranks, sweeping aside Maori with one arm, the other hanging like dead weight. The enemy fled before her enough that a large gap opened. Seeing how many enemies were still in the field and knowing Miss Coltrane's suit would not aid us much longer, we fought a retreat. Matthew and I worked together to drag Eddy off of the field while Miss Coltrane forced a path open for us, and our muskets fell in behind us, shooting down anyone who dared follow.

We had long since lost sight of Miss Bowe, but she and all too few of her warriors came upon us when we were still in fighting retreat. They cut down those who were trailing our injured party as we limped away. They had escaped the melee the hard way, fighting through the ranks of the enemy's flanking maneuver and continuing on into the brush, then ambushing the disorganized sorties who came after them.

After that, we eluded pursuit while the enemy celebrated behind us. I imagine they would have pursued to try to finish all of us off, but we still had our terrifying war engine, while they did not, and they no longer had the fortress to protect them. They did not have the knowledge of engineering to know how badly damaged the battle suit was, nor did they realize how many of us were injured, or that Eddy was only half conscious and incapable of sniping them down. Had they all of this information, I must wonder if that would have changed their approach any.

We dragged Eddy back to our camp, a long journey. Miss Coltrane made the trip, but by the end, the horrible venting was slowing, and her steps were heavy. She let the suit slump, and the working arm dangle free to conserve as much power as she was able, settling into the workshop with the last gasp of power left to it. Miss Wright was most distressed, but went to work right away. I believe that Miss Coltrane went straight to bed after the fight, but will almost certainly be to trying to help repair the battle suit as soon as she has rested.

Eddy was the most serious of our wounded. Anyone else who was as badly injured, the Maori had left behind. Though he lived, dealing with the wound was a terrible process. Miss Bowe helped us, for we had to remove the barbed spines, some few of which had plunged between his ribs, and some had punched into the bone itself. He has at least one broken rib, and we have not yet been able to tell if anything vital was pierced. He has now entirely been unconscious for some time, having lost a lot of blood before we were able to bind the wound properly. He is a strong man, of great constitution, but this may be too much for even him.

As bad as the wounds themselves were, we could not help but make them worse in digging the barbed spines free, and removing one of those devilish things from bone was among the most sickening things I have ever had to do. At least he still lives and breathes. We hope to know more by nightfall.

Miss Bowe has spent much of the day since talking, and occasionally seemingly arguing with the warleaders over something. Miss Penn, once she was done assisting with the wounded as best as her talents permitted, joined Miss Bowe in talking with the local leaders. I do not know what they are discussing as of yet, but can only hope she has some plan of action to get us out of our current difficulties.

If we cannot determine how York is so perfect with his tactics and predictions, we are certainly lost this time, for we at last engaged him on his field, and the results were not even close. As it is, for the day, we are preparing ourselves as quickly as we can with relative freedom, for the Maori rarely attack in the light of day, but when evening comes, it promises to be a very long and nervous night.

From the journals of Gregory Conan Watts,

June 8th, 1816

37º03' S 175º53' E

They came by dusk, as we expected, hoping to finish us off. This time we did not have Miss Coltrane and the battle suit, for she and Harriet have not had nearly enough time to repair it after the last battle. We also were without our sniper. Eddy's condition remains unchanged.

We had, thankfully, had time to build rudimentary wooden fortifications about the airship since our last battle here. Likewise, we did have somewhat trained muskets, as well as desperation on our side, for we knew that this time, there would be nowhere to run to, and not a man, woman, or child would survive if they broke through. The engineers helped to reinforce our numbers, aiding the muskets as best they were able.

In the end, much of our survival is still due to Eddy and his training, as well as the courage of the Maori. Even without Eddy himself there to guide them, they were flawless. They formed musket lines, with one group firing into the charging ranks, then dropping back and to a knee as another group came up to fire. The wide expanse of open ground between ourselves made this a perfect fight for trained musketeers for so long as we could keep up an unbroken firing line.