Chapter 2 – The Black Ship

The whole ship shook uncontrollably as ship fell from the sky. They were dropping down into the cloud cover as fast as they could, hoping to go unnoticed while they got into cannon range. Naturally, the best way to do that, both fast and quiet, was to simply shut off the float boiler and let nature do its work.

Fredrik was assigned to the boarding party, not a marine but an armed sailor, and before that time came, he would spend the fight helping to carry shot and control damage. As such, he spent the fall braced up against a wall on the top deck with the other fighting men, holding the loose supplies tight to not be damaged. As the clouds covered the portholes, the boiler thudded to life and the fall came to an abrupt halt. His arms strained under the sudden force and he clenched his teeth at the pain.

Their youngest fighter, a marine who had entered the Sunseed at the start of the hunt, had not been so resilient. He fell to the floor of the deck, spilling the supplies behind him. Fredrik looked on in horror as clay jars cracked, spilling blood-red crystals of various sizes mixed and scattered. One such gem found its way into a puddle of water that spilt from a cup that had been forgotten in the chaos. In an instant, the water was turned to steam as the stone glowed, floated in the air, and set the wooden deck below it alight. It was firestone, rubrutektrite, the very crystal that powered their ship and their cannons. Had the young man not outranked him, Fredrik might have struck him for endangering the ship. Instead, he left that to the marines, and dashed to solve the problem.

He grabbed a leather mitten from amongst the loading supplies and wrapped the crystal in it. The heat was still unbearable, and he could feel his flesh cooking as he tossed the activated stone out a porthole. The cloud moisture once again ignited the stone, seeing it fly up above the ship. The sheer volume of water it was exposed to meant that it would burn bright at it flew, but that was a worry for another time, as he and others started to beat the flames with fire resistant cloth. With their efforts, the fire was swiftly out, and a plank was placed over the hole, hammered in place. The noise and light were a clearly bad start to their stealthy approach, and sharp turns were made to help get lost in the clouds, should they have been seen.

As the boiler was brought up to a moderate speed, the ship rose to a more comfortable temperature. They would be closing on their target over at least an hour and needed to be ready for the boiler to be put to its full ahead if they were noticed. That was what time they had to get the ship into its best shape for battle. Most of the fighting force spent that time sweeping for the spilt crystals and sorting them into their sizes. The ship carried two sizes of cannon, and there was a much smaller size that was fit into their rifles. Mixing the cannon sizes could cause the barrels to melt or the shot to be underpowered, so the sorting needed to be done with care. Likewise, sweat from human hands could activate the stones, so they had to be handled only with gloves.

While the crystals were sorted, the firing teams set to work getting the cannon’s ready to fire. Hoses were pulled up from the lower deck, looped over hooks on the ceiling to prevent being a tripping hazard. Each was connected, clamped and sealed, as water was filled into the cannon with hand pumps. Each cannoneer paid constant attention to the pipes, as the calculators gave constant updates to the firing solutions of each cannon in order. With each update, the men would flip wooden blocks to match what they were told, before matching the cannons’ positions. Even if the ship were to take a hit and the cannon shifted, the blocks would help to prevent mistakes in the chaos.

The young lads didn’t have specific roles, but rather just did whatever was yelled at them. They’d dry every bit of water they could find, put all loose objects into boxes or tie them down, and distribute the firefighting tools throughout the ship.

Fredrik’s own preparations were in seeing to the boarding team’s weapons. Normally, each man would see to their own gear, but the time was too short for them to be picky. Each rifle was a full arm-span long, made from a dark wood and solid metal. The firestone was inserted into a metal vice, before that vice was locked in place in the breach section, which was opened with a sliding bolt. The barrel was made from an inner and outer tube, with the outer tube being connected to the ship’s hose system. While the outer barrel was connected, the weapon would be cooled off by that water supply, as well as using it for the steam that would launch the ball projectile. While the weight of the water and extra barrel would make the weapon unwieldy, that weight would be reduced considerably once water activated the stone. Then, when it was time for the boarding to take place, the barrel would be separated, and a water flask screwed into the side. With each weapon checked, barrelled, and hosed, he pulled open each breach and dropped a wet iron ball in. While each man would have a supply of balls, there was a superstition that the first shot should be one blessed by a priest. The small amount of contact with water also helped coat the barrel and partially activate the firestone, both of which would help the first shot go smoothly.

Suddenly the distant sound of thunder could be heard, and, several seconds later, the distinct whistle of cannonball passed near the ship. That was followed by the steadily increasing thud of the boiler increasing its tempo. The ship shook and the joints creaked as the boiler exerted pressure, through heat, expansion, and acceleration. With each thud the decks shook, and the outside horizon seemed to dance.

As the Sunseed rocket towards the black ship, closing the gap as fast as they could, the black shipped continued to get off shots. The difference between their larger and smaller cannons was audible, but no one had the slightest doubt that either would cut through their ship’s plates like paper. Fredrik could do nothing amidst the dash but to prey and do the math. Each of the smaller cannon could get a new shot off after only a minute of loading, and the larger in a minute and a half. Despite the larger cannon size, and the more cramped ship design, they were somehow able to reload faster than they could. He couldn’t even begin to work out how that was possible.

While their luck held up for much of the dash, it eventually ran out after ten minutes, just outside of effective cannon range. A shot struck into a sail mast, breaking it loose and twisting the ship sideward from the drag. As the ropes were cut, dropping the wood into the ocean below, the ship’s course was turned well away from their target, but that in turn threw off their opponent’s aim. On the inside, the deck had risen to a thirty-degree incline, pulling all the tied down lines tight. The youngest sailors were thrown off their feet by the sudden flip. Their seniors yelled at them to secure themselves with a safety line and not get in the way. The ship’s weight was thrown off balance by the missing post, and there was a drift that needed to be corrected for. The turn back on course was full of turbulence, but that wobble made them harder to hit, even as they lost speed in the turn.

Once the captain was sure that the opposition had their range, he signalled for a desperate measure. Mortar on the top deck spat out large flairs. Each contained firestone dust which was dispersed in a cloud of glowing mist. The tiny specks of dust were too small to give off much heat, nor to generate much lift, and instead shone brighter than was comfortable for the eye. With each mortar that launched, more of the wall of light was formed. While the line of sight was lost, the whole ship rotated on its axis, and the boiler’s power was pumped into a hard drop. The screen of light had only lasted a couple seconds, but by the time it burnt itself out, the Sunseed was completely gone.

Once completely on the other side of the clouds, the ship rotated back to its proper alignment, but cut the boiler back to a crawl. The sudden change in power caused the system to vent, as the remaining impulse was unable to overcome acceleration and the ship continued to fall. The trail of steam the ship gave off was like a cloud pointing out exactly where it was, and Fredrik had no doubt that any onlookers would only see them as a sinking ship.

Halfway between the clouds and the ocean, the ship levelled out. The sudden drop in high cause the temperature to leap higher and their ears to pop. Several men seemed to wheeze with the change in pressure but continued to work through their gasps. While the black ship had lost them, they had also lost the black ship, and all crew were instructed to keep watch out the portholes for any sign of it. While everyone panicked over ever slightly darker cloud, the calculators continued to give their best guesses at firing solutions.

A path was set, traveling in a circle from where the black ship was last seen. The course was chosen in order to balance cloud cover, distance, and safety. A deep down, animalistic, part of Fredrik wanted to shout out, scream that they should just charge straight at them. His better judgement held that back, but he couldn’t work out if that desire was from fear or bloodlust.

For the next half hour, they floated along their course. The young sailors brought waterskins and dry rations around to each man in rotation. They had no way to know when the next opportunity would come, so each man ate and drank as fast as they could safely do so. At the end of that time, they could see where the black ship had been. It was nowhere to be seen, they had better weapons, and they had the high ground. They had every advantage. Surprise had been the Sunseed’s only advantage, and it was long since lost. While they were all feeling like fish in a barrel, the captain’s voice rang out from the tube system.

“All crew brace for another risky measure. We will be going into a rapid rise. All hands are to keep a lookout and to yell down the pipes any position, even if you don’t have exact location.”

It was an all or nothing gamble. They would push up like a mortar shell and try to get a clear shot before their opponent could. The primitive part of him that was baying for blood loved the idea. It was a straight competition, man to man, between the cannoneers of each ship. With the height advantage, and a less than one second range, the difference in power between their cannons would no longer matter.

Once again, the boiler rumbled to life as the ship rocketed upwards. The masthead started to rise, pointing up towards the sun as the speed continued to increase. The sound of the boiler venting could be heard as it was being pushed beyond its limit.

The unbalanced drag from the missing mast continued to twist the frame, and the booming crack or snapping wooden boards assaulted their already battered ears. Pain from aching jaws and bursting ears were compounded by difficulty in breathing. The outside air was also dropping, yet the heat of the bursting boiler made that entirely moot.

As they rose, the cracks continued until suddenly the sound of breaking wood turned into the sound of breaking metal. One of the braces that held the boiler to the deck snaped, and the wooden deck it was attached to caved in as well. The cannoneer that had been standing there fell halfway down, as his back hit the side of the hole and let out the sound of breaking bones. His blood-curdling scream sounded as he slumped over and finished falling out of sight.

Fredrik was about to go after the man when the boiler cut out, forcing him to brace against the inertia. As the rise began to turn into a fall, someone yelled out down the pipes, “Port, Port! It’s on our port!” followed by the chaotic chatter of co-ordinates and firing solutions. Mechanics started to yell out for parts to be delivered and sailors set to work loosing the sails to slow their fall like partial parachutes.

As the ship turned towards its plummet, their cannons fired, one by one. Even through his pressure damaged ears, Fredrik could hear the cannonballs rip the air as the steam from the barrel filled the cabin. Shortly after, the black ship’s own cannonballs tore through the Sunseed’s side. Wood and metal fragments filled the deck, shrapnel tearing through bodies and spilling blood and viscera. The cannoneers ignored the chaos around them, and their own burning hands as they tore open the still hot cannon’s port to shove a new ball within. Several hoses had been cut by the blasts, and bucket brigades formed to get water into the cannon any way they could, using waterskins and fire-fighting ceramic jars, along with any other water they could find.

As the Sunseed dropped into a nosedive, the narrower target caused the black ship to miss their second strike. The same difficulty wasn’t faced by the Sunseed, as its remaining cannons spray to life again. Holes opened up on the unknown ship’s cannon deck as steam billowed. Something vital was clearly hit, as it began to lose height, more and more steam leaking from the newly opened holes.

As the back ship began to sink, the Sunseed’s boiler started to slowly thump. Its speed was slower than even when they were running silent, but it slowed the fall to the point that they were at least in control. They would be able to land in the ocean, or even try to glide over to land if they were trying to find rescue. With how close the ships were, a boarding attempt would be possible, and the remaining fighting men grabbed their rifles from the racks. With how close the enemy ship was, the name painted on its hull cloud be read with the naked eye.

The IIC Whiskey Flask. The ship that had effectively sunk the Sunseed.