The Sail Weaver (30 page)

“Sails are ready, ship to the Weaver!” Shearer said.

“Ship to the Weaver!” the cry was repeated on the quarterdeck.

“The ship is yours, Master Weaver,” Thom said.

“Thank you, Captain Barrett.” Tristan closed his eyes and started the spell, feeling the sails, making sure they weren’t injured by their time in the hold. He fixed a few dark spots, shifting the Weaving and moving the dark out and away. He could feel the massive power of the ship again as the sails shivered in the first touch of the Winds. At first they seemed hesitant, unsure what was coming. He focused his spell, the Latin filling the silence on the quarterdeck. The sails started to catch the Winds, at first the topsails, then as Tristan spoke, he eased the mainsail into the path of the Winds. A moment later the immense sound that rattled through the ship surprised them all as the sails caught the Winds and the ship leaped forward, suddenly speeding away from where they had been. Tristan shifted the sails a little, moving the topgallants, unsure if they should have them out with the Winds this strong, but trusting Thom would know if they should bring them in. He looked up from the Elemental Interface and saw the pennant trailing over the ship, proudly proclaiming who they were.

He took his hands away from the Interface. The officers on deck were all smiling, looking up at the sails. Glancing back, Tristan could see the three smaller ships struggling to keep up, while the dragons. Fenfyr, Taminick and the two traveling with
Surprise
and the
Leopard
wheeled around the
Winged Victory
and playfully dashed back and forth between the ships.

“Sir! I have a report from the captain of the
Mercury
. They are
under heavy fire, they’ve lost two ships and there is a larger group of Vermin ships on their sensors heading towards their position,” the communications officer said.

“What’s our ETA?” Thom asked.

“Two hours, sir.”

“Tell them we’re on our way—no wait, signal that
Surprise
and
Leopard
are on their way in. I have a funny feeling that not very many people knew about this ship, and the fewer that know now, the better. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Hopefully we can take them by surprise,” Thom said. “It might give us the upper hand.”

“Might?” Tristan asked.

“That’s the idea at least. We need to get there in time. Will the sails hold in these Winds?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s keep the sails set as they are, and make haste. Shearer, we will be leaving the sails set for the time being.”

“Sir?”

“Be ready to pull them in if it gets stormy.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now get us there, Tristan.”

“I will, Thom,” Tristan assured him. “I will.”

XXX

The stars were speeding past as the ship raced towards the coordinates of the battle. There was a deep hum in the rigging, letting Tristan know that even though they were wheeled over and going far faster than they had ever gone before, things were still holding together on the masts. He was on deck for the third time in forty minutes, checking the sails and the Elemental Interface. The dragons were soaring along beside the ship, wings and feathers fully extended. Fenfyr had explained that they very rarely got the chance to “really stretch our wings” when flying with a ship, and they were taking full advantage of the
Winged Victory’s
speed. The smaller ships were doing their best to keep up, but the best they could do was stay on the sensors, the huge sails of the
Victory
moving the massive ship through space faster than the smaller ships could hope to go.

Thom was pacing the quarterdeck—as far as Tristan could tell he hadn’t left the deck since they set out. He was currently scowling at a group on the main deck as they worked to fit the ship for battle. Thom was doing all he could to strengthen the ship. The hole in the bottom hold that they had used to enter the ship had been sealed and double plated. Shearer made sure that the weaknesses showing on the plans were all dealt with as well as he could in deep space.

The gun decks were already swept clean of bulkheads and all
the guns were being carefully checked to make sure they hadn’t been sabotaged. The fact that the second gunner Jacob
Raiden
, now promoted to Gunner Officer, had discovered that at least ten guns had been rigged to kill the men firing them had nearly pushed Thom over the edge. Tristan had watched the red creep over his friend’s face, his hands clench tight, then the deep slow breath as he reined in his temper. More than once Thom had muttered that he wished he’d just killed Fuhrman when he had the chance.

“Do you want to come down for something to eat?” Tristan asked, catching Thom as he paced by.

“Um…”

“When did you last eat?”

“When you did,” Thom answered.

“And I can’t remember when that was, so I think it’s time. Riggan has been sending notes.” Tristan frowned at him. “Don’t make me order you, Captain.”

“Yes, sir,” Thom said with a grin.

Tristan walked to his staircase off the quarterdeck and headed down into his cabin, making sure Thom followed. He loosened his cravat and jacket as he walked in, laughing as he noticed the table of food already waiting for them. He settled himself at the table and served himself, then passed the food to Thom.

“You know, I didn’t think I was hungry,” Thom said. “Turns out I am.” He put a generous helping of food on his plate.

They ate in silence at first, the only sound the clink of silverware. Riggan appeared with a fresh pot of coffee and served them. He lingered for a moment, then started piling up the empty dishes, fussing at the end of the table.

“What is it?” Tristan finally asked, recognizing the look on the man’s face.

“Well, sir, you know I’m not one to spread idle tales…”

“Riggan,” Thom said warningly.

“I heard them talking down in the crew quarters, someone was listening in at the
comm
boards and said the fleet’s been destroyed and all is lost.”

“I’m sure we would have heard if the fleet was gone,” Thom pointed out.

“I know and I told them that, but the rumor has gotten ahold of
the crew and it’s ruining morale.”

“Damn all,” Thom said. He pulled out his communicator and punched in a code.

“Yes, Captain?” Patrick Aubrey answered.

“Get down to communications and lock it down. The officer of the watch can go in, but no one other than you, myself and the Master Weaver, understood?”

“On it, Captain.”

“Thank you, Riggan,” Thom said. “That sort of thing can decide a battle before a shot is fired. I’m sure that the prisoners aren’t helping. There have to be a few of their sympathizers left among the crew, even after the checking and rechecking we’ve done. After we’re done eating, I think we need to go down there and listen in on the fleet-wide channel. We need to know what we’re flying into. We’re nearly there and we need to be prepared.”

“The men know the
Victory
is special, sir, they trust you to do your best. It’s that them that threw you overboard spread lies, and convinced them the only way to win was with those filthy sails hanging over their heads.”

“We’ll show them differently, Riggan.”

“Aye, I know, Captain.” He grinned. “I’ll ready your formal uniforms for the battle, sirs, so you can get ready when you come back from the communications room.”

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.”