Authors: Taylor Anderson
Firestorm (4 page)
Garrett wiped the lenses of his binoculars with his shirtsleeve, then stared through them again. “Now I’ve seen everything,” he said incredulously. Despite the cannon fire and depth charges, the mountain fish hadn’t moved. It hadn’t dived or swum away, or even attacked. It hadn’t done anything. He looked at Saaran. “Say, you don’t suppose it’s
dead
?” He looked back at the fish. “You know, I think it’s dead! Smitty!” he yelled. “Get up here, you ball-headed Kraut! Your willy-nilly broadside found a weak spot and killed the damn thing!”
dead
?” He looked back at the fish. “You know, I think it’s dead! Smitty!” he yelled. “Get up here, you ball-headed Kraut! Your willy-nilly broadside found a weak spot and killed the damn thing!”
Smitty arrived amid enthusiastic cheering, grinning ear to ear. “I just wish I knew which gun did the trick—and where it was aimed!” There was a roar of laughter and stamping feet.
“It might have been fire from
Tolson
,” Saaran reminded him. “Or the combined fire of both ships. It is said, however, that the inestimable Dennis Silva once killed such a creature with a single shot from a four-inch-fifty.”
Tolson
,” Saaran reminded him. “Or the combined fire of both ships. It is said, however, that the inestimable Dennis Silva once killed such a creature with a single shot from a four-inch-fifty.”
“It was four shots!” Smitty denied. “I was there! One shot might’a killed it, but he shot that big empty forehead hump three times first!”
Garrett patted Smitty on the shoulder, then looked back at the gathered Grik ships, now off the starboard quarter. The broadside they’d fired into the gaggle had left it even more disarrayed. He raised his glasses. “Helm,” he called. “Mr. Saaran, we’ll come about and finish that mob. Prepare to wear ship!” The Grik were no longer flinging gobbets of meat over the side, and the swarm of feeding fish, those not killed by the depth charges, were beginning to abandon them for the mountain of bleeding meat floating nearby. Now, most of the Grik in view, furry, upright, vicious-looking crosses between an emu and a komodo, just stood there, staring sullenly. Their plan, clearly to break the blockade by destroying Garrett’s entire squadron at one act, hadn’t workedand he was suddenly stunned that the Grik had been capable of conjuring such a scheme, not to mention implementing it. Grik always seemed ready to attack with everything they had, or flee with equal abandon. To design a plan that called on them—even Hij—to cold-bloodedly, calculatingly, sacrifice themselves for others of their kind was so utterly alien to anything they’d come to expect from their foe, it was still difficult to imagine. There was no doubt they’d deliberately lured the mountain fish, hoping it would destroy all of Garrett’s ships. They had to know it would destroy them as well.
Damn
.
Damn
.
Donaghey
had come about, steering to bring her port broadside to bear on the bows of the enemy where they were linked together.
Tolson
was preparing to pummel the north side of the confused raft of ships. At just over one hundred yards, Garrett opened his mouth to give the command to fire. He never had a chance. With a cataclysmic eruption of fire, shattered debris, and a massive, towering mushroom of dirty white smoke, all eight Grik ships simultaneously blew themselves up.
had come about, steering to bring her port broadside to bear on the bows of the enemy where they were linked together.
Tolson
was preparing to pummel the north side of the confused raft of ships. At just over one hundred yards, Garrett opened his mouth to give the command to fire. He never had a chance. With a cataclysmic eruption of fire, shattered debris, and a massive, towering mushroom of dirty white smoke, all eight Grik ships simultaneously blew themselves up.
Greg Garrett opened his eyes to see Clancy’s fuzzy, worried face hovering near. Greg was totally disoriented, and it took him several moments to figure out where he was. He decided he must be lying on his back somewhere on the quarterdeck, but looking up, he couldn’t see the sails, yards, or the spiderweb of cordage that should have been overhead. That con- fused him even more. Clancy’s mouth was moving, but at first Greg couldn’t understand anything he said. There was only an all-encompassing, high-pitched buzz, with a kind of muffled warbling creeping in around the edges. He stared hard at Clancy and began to realize part of the warbling sound was the communications officer calling his name. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and propped himself up on his elbows.
His vision was clearing, and other sounds began penetrating the incessant noise inside his head. He commenced a rapid inventory of all the new aches and pains he felt, but decided nothing was broken. Looking at himself, he saw that he was spattered with blood, but except for a few small tears in his clothing, he thought he must be okay. Most of the blood had to be somebody else’s. He suddenly realized the sky was empty because the mainmast had snapped off just below the top, taking the main yard and everything above over the side. Tangled stays and shrouds stretched taut across the deck, and the bulwarks on either side were smashed. Even as he watched, bloodied, disheveled Lemurian sailors hacked at cables, and each one parted with a sound like a rifle shot. The ship beneath him wallowed uncomfortably in the uneven swells, and there was a great grinding, pounding in the fibers of the deck from the shattered mast working alongside.
Glancing farther forward, he saw that the foremast was gone completely, snapped off at the deck of the forecastle, and its remains had already been cleared away. Looking around with increased urgency, he realized that only the bowsprit and mizzenmast still stood intact. A great many bodies lay scattered on deck, some moving, others not, and the pitiful cries of the wounded began to seep through the ringing buzz. The surgeon was on deck, along with Marine corpsmen and pharmacist’s mates, moving from one prone figure to the next. Some they quickly inspected before moving on, and others they had carried below to the wardroom. What had been a taut, beautiful, well-run ship had suddenly become a scene of devastation and chaos.
“Mr. Garrett! Thank God!” he finally heard Clancy say. “I thought you were a goner when I first laid eyes on you.”
“What happened?” Greg asked. It may not have been the most original phrase uder the circumstances, but right then, it was the most appropriate.
“I’m not sure, sir. I was belowdecks in the wireless shack when I heard this god-awful, humongous boom—and something hammered the ship. I came up here”—Clancy gestured around—“and seen all this! Jesus! One fella I ran into told me those Grik ships, all eight of ’em, just blew the hell up! All at once! My God, the only way they could’ve done it like that, simultaneously, is electrically! Electrically!” he repeated. “No fuse would’ve worked. They’d have gone up like a fireworks show, not all at once. And they couldn’t have done near as much damage that way. I swear.” He shook his head.
“How about
Tolson
?” Greg asked, managing to stand with Clancy’s help.
Tolson
?” Greg asked, managing to stand with Clancy’s help.
Clancy pointed. “Hell, sir, she looks worse than us. Lost every stick.”
Garrett saw
Tolson
, completely dismasted, wallowing helplessly to leeward, surrounded by a sea of floating debris.
Revenge
was standing by her, apparently undamaged, trying to rig a towline. “Where’s Saaran?” he asked.
Tolson
, completely dismasted, wallowing helplessly to leeward, surrounded by a sea of floating debris.
Revenge
was standing by her, apparently undamaged, trying to rig a towline. “Where’s Saaran?” he asked.
“In the wardroom,” Clancy said. “Looks like he’s maybe got a concussion. Something conked him on the head. Caught some splinters too. You’re lucky, Skipper. Smitty was with you when I came on deck, but the surgeon said you ought to come around soon, and Smitty took off to help with damage control. You were out about twenty minutes.”
“Do we have communications?” Garrett demanded.
“Yes, sir. One of my strikers just reported. We can’t get
Tolson
, or at least they can’t respond, but we’ve got
Revenge
.” Clancy shrugged. “Our wireless aerial’s on the mizzen, and it’s still mostly in one piece.”
Tolson
, or at least they can’t respond, but we’ve got
Revenge
.” Clancy shrugged. “Our wireless aerial’s on the mizzen, and it’s still mostly in one piece.”
“Okay,” said Garrett, shaking off Clancy’s supporting hand. “Tell
Revenge
she’ll have to try to tow us both. Then get a message off to HQ; tell them what happened . . . and they might want to kind of expect a call for assistance.” He smirked. “Like there’s anything they can do about it. As far as I know, there’s not another Allied ship for five hundred miles!”
Revenge
she’ll have to try to tow us both. Then get a message off to HQ; tell them what happened . . . and they might want to kind of expect a call for assistance.” He smirked. “Like there’s anything they can do about it. As far as I know, there’s not another Allied ship for five hundred miles!”
“Maybe they’re doing another coast recon of the proposed LZs?” Clancy speculated.
“Maybe . . . and we wouldn’t know it either. They won’t make a peep in case the Japs have helped the Grik come up with a transmission direction finder of some sort,” Greg fumed. “Let’s just hope we won’t need any assistance
Revenge
can’t give us!” He paused. “Thanks, Clance. You get back to the radio shack and keep your ears open.”
Revenge
can’t give us!” He paused. “Thanks, Clance. You get back to the radio shack and keep your ears open.”
The new steam frigate passed a heavy cable to
Tolson
and eventually, carefully picking her way through the raft of floating chunks of eight entire ships, pulled Russ’s derelict close to
Donaghey
. In the meantime, much to Greg’s relief, Smitty and the ’Cat carpenter reported that his ship’s leaks were under control. Most were caused by the pressure of the blast-opened seams, but some were made by pieces of Grik ships striking at high velocity. A bowsprit had speared
Donaghey
like a harpoon amidships. Garrett’s ship would float, but she’d lost a lot of people. All the Marines in the tops, for example, had gone over the side. With so many predators in the sea, their deaths had probably been quicker than drowning—if even more horrifying. Almost a third of the crewfolk and Marines exposed on deck were dead or wounded.
Tolson
and eventually, carefully picking her way through the raft of floating chunks of eight entire ships, pulled Russ’s derelict close to
Donaghey
. In the meantime, much to Greg’s relief, Smitty and the ’Cat carpenter reported that his ship’s leaks were under control. Most were caused by the pressure of the blast-opened seams, but some were made by pieces of Grik ships striking at high velocity. A bowsprit had speared
Donaghey
like a harpoon amidships. Garrett’s ship would float, but she’d lost a lot of people. All the Marines in the tops, for example, had gone over the side. With so many predators in the sea, their deaths had probably been quicker than drowning—if even more horrifying. Almost a third of the crewfolk and Marines exposed on deck were dead or wounded.
Garrett saw Russ near
Tolson’
s stern, a bloody rag around his head, directing a detail preparing to send or receiv a cable. Greg already had a similar party waiting in his ship’s fo’c’sle. He raised a speaking trumpet. “Are you okay, Mr. Chapelle?”
Tolson’
s stern, a bloody rag around his head, directing a detail preparing to send or receiv a cable. Greg already had a similar party waiting in his ship’s fo’c’sle. He raised a speaking trumpet. “Are you okay, Mr. Chapelle?”
“I’m fine,” Russ replied. “My ship ain’t,” he added bitterly. Bloody water gushed down
Tolson’
s sides from the scuppers, her pumps working hard. “We’re staying ahead of the flooding, though.” He paused. “If you don’t mind my saying,
Donaghey
looks like a porcupine.” It was true. Greg had peered over the port side and was amazed by the number of timbers and splinters sticking in his ship. “I bet you could build another whole ship out of all that junk!”
Tolson’
s sides from the scuppers, her pumps working hard. “We’re staying ahead of the flooding, though.” He paused. “If you don’t mind my saying,
Donaghey
looks like a porcupine.” It was true. Greg had peered over the port side and was amazed by the number of timbers and splinters sticking in his ship. “I bet you could build another whole ship out of all that junk!”
“I promise not to throw any of it away, then,” Greg countered. “You might need it.”
“You said it,” Russ shouted back ruefully.
They eventually passed a cable from
Donaghey
to
Tolson
, and when it was secure,
Revenge
took up the slack on both ships. Slowly, they began to move, gaining speed, and settling on a southwesterly course at about five knots. Garrett glanced back at the debris-strewn sea. The dead mountain fish still lay, a mile or more astern, huge and seemingly as invulnerable as an island, yet the sea around its wallowing corpse was stained red, and predators—gri-kakka, “super sharks,” and flashies in their countless multitudes—churned along its flanks. He looked to the northeast, toward whatever port the eight Grik ships had put out from. He could still barely believe it. The enemy had executed a carefully, redundantly planned operation to break the blockade, and it had worked. Every time the allies thought they had the Grik down, the damn things pulled some crazy stunt that stood all their preconceptions on their heads. Granted, they were dealing with some “civilian” Grik now, but how much difference should that make? Something had changed; something fundamental. He sighed.
Well, that happens in war,
he supposed. He only wished he and
Donaghey
weren’t always on the receiving end of these discoveries. He took some comfort from one fact, however. The allies had changed too. No Grik in the coming campaign against Ceylon and India could have any notion of the new Allied equipment and tactics. Hopefully, they’d be basing whatever preparations they were making on the capabilities they’d seen at the Battle of Baalkpan. They too would be surprised.
Donaghey
to
Tolson
, and when it was secure,
Revenge
took up the slack on both ships. Slowly, they began to move, gaining speed, and settling on a southwesterly course at about five knots. Garrett glanced back at the debris-strewn sea. The dead mountain fish still lay, a mile or more astern, huge and seemingly as invulnerable as an island, yet the sea around its wallowing corpse was stained red, and predators—gri-kakka, “super sharks,” and flashies in their countless multitudes—churned along its flanks. He looked to the northeast, toward whatever port the eight Grik ships had put out from. He could still barely believe it. The enemy had executed a carefully, redundantly planned operation to break the blockade, and it had worked. Every time the allies thought they had the Grik down, the damn things pulled some crazy stunt that stood all their preconceptions on their heads. Granted, they were dealing with some “civilian” Grik now, but how much difference should that make? Something had changed; something fundamental. He sighed.
Well, that happens in war,
he supposed. He only wished he and
Donaghey
weren’t always on the receiving end of these discoveries. He took some comfort from one fact, however. The allies had changed too. No Grik in the coming campaign against Ceylon and India could have any notion of the new Allied equipment and tactics. Hopefully, they’d be basing whatever preparations they were making on the capabilities they’d seen at the Battle of Baalkpan. They too would be surprised.
Massive sharks and a few gri-kakka shadowed the wounded train. It must have been the bloody water trailing behind that drew their attention. Slowly, as the trickle decreased and diluted, most veered away, back to where they knew an endless meal awaited—but a few continued dogging them. One massive creature, bigger than any shark had a right to be, with a fin as high as a killer whale’s, cruised effortlessly past
Donaghey
, just under the surface. Its back was a mottled grayish blue-black, and while maybe a quarter
Donaghey’
s length, it looked nearly as broad. Garrett suppressed a shudder. In a moment, the fish was gone, outpacing them, apparently intent on examining the other ships forward. Saaran appeared on deck, a bulky wrap around his head, and glistening smears of the curative “polta paste” applied here and there across his chest and shoulder.
Donaghey
, just under the surface. Its back was a mottled grayish blue-black, and while maybe a quarter
Donaghey’
s length, it looked nearly as broad. Garrett suppressed a shudder. In a moment, the fish was gone, outpacing them, apparently intent on examining the other ships forward. Saaran appeared on deck, a bulky wrap around his head, and glistening smears of the curative “polta paste” applied here and there across his chest and shoulder.
“What’re you doing here?” Garrett asked. “You look like hell.”
“Doc Miller told me not to sleep,” he said. “If I work, I won’t sleep.”
Garrett grunted. “Okay. If you’re determined to run around, see if you can put a detail together to sway up a new main-topmast and a few yards. Get some sail on her.” The mizzen looked okay, but the remnant of the mainmast didn’t have much support left. “We’ll have to rerig the shrouds and ys as well. See if we can do anything to get a new foremast stepped.” He looked around. “I don’t know what we’ll use. . . . Anyway,
Revenge’
ll have enough worries dragging just one ship behind her.” Suddenly,
Donaghey
seemed to slow, and
Tolson
began to slew to starboard. “What the devil?” As Garrett watched,
Tolson
continued turning, until she was almost beam-on to the following
Donaghey
.
Revenge’
ll have enough worries dragging just one ship behind her.” Suddenly,
Donaghey
seemed to slow, and
Tolson
began to slew to starboard. “What the devil?” As Garrett watched,
Tolson
continued turning, until she was almost beam-on to the following
Donaghey
.
“Hard a’port!” Garrett cried, hoping they had enough steerageway to miss the other ship. At the moment, they were aimed directly at her, amidships.
“Hard a’port, ay!” replied the helmsman. Slowly, slowly,
Donaghey
wallowed left, edging more and more aft of her sister. It still looked as if they might hit her in the stern, and everyone tensed, expecting an impact. Somehow, they managed to clear the other ship, but only by a few feet. Garrett shouted across to Chapelle. “What’s going on?”
Donaghey
wallowed left, edging more and more aft of her sister. It still looked as if they might hit her in the stern, and everyone tensed, expecting an impact. Somehow, they managed to clear the other ship, but only by a few feet. Garrett shouted across to Chapelle. “What’s going on?”
“Beats me,” came the wind-muffled reply.
“Revenge
just stopped all of a sudden! I don’t know what’s up! We had to turn to keep from hitting her, just as you did!”
“Revenge
just stopped all of a sudden! I don’t know what’s up! We had to turn to keep from hitting her, just as you did!”
Other books
Seven Shades of Grey by Vivek Mehra
The Silkie's Woman by Claire Cameron
Star Wars Missions 001 - Asault on Yavin Four by Ryder Windham
Still Me by Christopher Reeve
The Last Place You'd Look by Carole Moore
Motherhood Is Murder by Diana Orgain
Hidden Riches by Nora Roberts
Fearlings Three (The Fearlings Series Book 3) by Michael Edward
Abigail's New Hope by Mary Ellis
Teckla by Steven Brust