by Carl E. Mullin ©2020
Puddin flirted through the maze of jagged steel hazards and enflamed oil slicks bobbing atop the dark troubled waters. Under the beast, the waters jumped in surprise as the chasers’ bullets penetrated their surface.
“They’re still on us, Hannah!”
“Tell me about it!” she snapped through gritted teeth.
They ducked under the collapsed superstructure as the dark sky thundered with flashing bombshells of battle. The enemy squad followed them with relentless ease, bullets flying. “Shit!” Hannah barked. “Puddin’s getting tired. Then we’ll really have it! Sons of bitches! Puddin! Give me everything you got, baby! Faster! Faster!”
Puddin summoned the last of his strength and flapped hard. He gained speed as he manoeuvered his way through the wrecks. Hannah spotted one of the looming wreckage, an upside-down hull that had been hollowed out by an explosion hours ago. Inspired, she projected an image to her panting dragon. They darted low over the water. Without a warning he twisted hard and ducked into the hull.
The planes couldn’t stop and overshot before they realized what happened. Their superior speed had been inverted against them.
True to his training Puddin turned to face the opening and laid low over the water, his eyes full of watchful glare. Dagny rushed down his back for a jagged wound in the hull. She climbed up on the twisted and burnt steel rims for a look. Hannah lifted her googles. The soot-filled sky had brushed her face dark, leaving two alabaster circles around her blue eyes, making them owl-bright in the darkness. She climbed down his massive serpentine neck to rest on his head. Her eyes darted back and forth for an unfriendly sight in the sky. There was nothing but the darkening sky full of acidic smoke and falling ashes. The sky continued to be lit up by remote explosions and volcanic lightnings. Their ears both pricked up for the slightest hum of a telltale propeller.
Silence.
Their eyes grew more intense as they tried to peek into the darkness.
Nothing. Only distant tracers and trembling bombs.
Hannah closed her eyes with a gasp and began to breath low and easy breathes. She kissed Puddin on his scaly head, “You did good, baby. Take one,” and crawled backward to his back.
Dagny glanced over her shoulder to see Hannah’s coming and looked out the hole again. Her eyes were slow as she scanned the sky. Now and then a bright shaft of sunlight peeked through the ash storm, illuminating the polluted lake. She grew thoughtful. Is it the time?
Hannah walked slow, shaking her tired legs and then sat down on her heels to stretch them. She sighed and rolled her neck. She looked up at her friend with a rueful grin. “Dagny Mark, you are a dear and I love you and you are giving me a heart attack every damn time you show up.”
She didn’t answer.
Hannah searched her face and scoffed with a wan smile. She tucked away a stray lock under her helmet. Feeling rested, she got to her feet and climbed up with Dagny and looked out. “I’m not seeing or hearing anything.” They paused to listen to the booming theater. “Besides that.” She looked at her friend and continued, “They’re out there. Circling. This I’m sure of. All four or five of them. For one dragon?” She sighed and looked at her, “That’s a kill mission. And the radio’s shot.”
Dagny continued to search the sky. “We’re hurting them. They’re worried.”
“Have to be. Nice to be special.” She climbed down and put her hands on her back. “Ooh,” she moaned as she arched her back in a long stretch. “Ugh, the knots on my back are having knots on them.”
“I’m not seeing anything.”
“They’re up there.” She squatted to unbuckled one of the large ammunition boxes that supplied the forward guns and peeked. “Almost out. Dagny, you can man the rear and I’ll try to fly us out of here once Puddin has his breath. Maybe we’ll tag one or two.”
Dagny didn’t answer Hannah noticed. She was staring out in a long thought, touching the space between her breasts, then she shook her head. “No. They’re worried. We hit two more ships, we push this, we can turn the battle in our favor.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Dagny, dearest–”
She looked at her and hopped back onto the dragon. She unlatched the rear guns’ boxes and started pulling out the cartridge belts with a great rattle. She handed the first belt to Hannah, “We can do it. We have to.”
She took the belt with an annoyed look. “Dagny, if we do this – and this is my dragon by the way – those killers are still out there.” She slapped the empty box in a huff. “And we still have no radio.”
“Two more ships. I promise.”
The belt rattled as she dropped it into the box. She shook her head. “Yeah, two ships.” She snatched another belt. As she attached the belts, she continued, “Then two more ships. And two more ships. Nope. Mh-mmh. Uh-huh. I’m not that crazy.”
Dagny handed her more belts. “Two more. I give you my word.”
“Until the variables kicked in,” she looked back as she slapped down the lid hard and latched it up. She stood up to attach one end of the spare belt to the active belt. “Uh-huh. I know how you think, girl. That’s not how I play the cards, darling.”
A big boom roared nearby. They froze as they looked up at the hull.
A moment passed.
They relaxed and returned to their task. Dagny lifted up the bulky bag and paused when she saw a handwritten name on the canvas: Marion. She recovered extra guns and pocketed them in her belt. She picked up the extra clips for her belt and boots. Hannah sighed as she claimed more belts and turned back to the fore guns. Dagny paused as she found a few bricks of plastic and small timers with wires. Her hand fisted over one timer. She bagged them with her flare gun and shoved a couple more hand axes into her belt. Then she picked up more belts to hand them to the dragon rider.
She took them. “Dagny, you’re pushing your luck.”
“I have to.”
She threw down the belts. “You’re gonna draw a joker. It’s gonna happen sooner or later. The house always win.” She pointed up, “That bomb? It could’ve had your name on it. Dagny, dearest, let’s cash it in. We did good, Now let’s take our winnings off the table before we lose ‘em.” She squatted to jerk more ammunition up with a noisy rattle.
As she listened to the angry rattle of the cartridge belts, Dagny drew a ragged breath and checked her gun’s clip and then another. “Hannah…”
“No,” she answered without looking back as more belts rattled.
“Hannah…”
“Dagny!” She slammed down the lid and got up to face her. “Why do you always say my name like this when you’re annoyed? Mh?” She faced away and then back to her, “It’s annoying!” She snatched the last belts from her. She dumped it into the last box with an angry jerk. She breathed deep. “If – and I say if – we do this, I’ll have to fend off those vultures up there. I won’t be able to cover you like before. Dagny dearest, you’ll really be on your own. You will be on your own, Dagny Mark. Mark my words, girl.”
“Han–”
“I’m not done!” She pursed her lips and sniffed, “And beside – and beside – those men on those ships? They’ll be ready for you. The men who sent those vultures after us, they’ll have warned the crews by now. You can take that to the bank. You’ll be sure they’re on the alert now. Have you thought of that, huh? Dearest Dagny, the cards are stacked against us.”
She looked into her owl-bright eyes, “I have considered it.”
She grew hopeful.
“I’m going in.”
Her shoulders slumped with a scoff. “Oy vey.” She pitched her nose’s bridge and snapped, “Du bist mshugh! What is it about you and those stupid stunts you keep pulling? Huh?”
“Not stunts. You have my word, dear Hannah.” She picked up her rifle.
She grunted in frustration, “Dagny dearest, I am urging you not to.”
“No.”
“Dagny–”
“No.” She stringed her rifle over her shoulder. “This need be done. Today. The new moon will be up soon. The sacred truce will come soon. The enemy’s smart. You say so yourself. They’re using our customs against us. We lose today, it’ll be more bloody next time. More.” She looped up her lifeline as she talked. “More, Hannah. More will die.”
“Don’t go there…”
“More like that poor Marion.”
“I say don’t go there!” They stared at each other for a moment. Then she looked away and fisted her hips, “Gods!” She bowed her head and then looked over her shoulder at her. “What is it with you? You getting some thrill outta impossible odds? You really like taking my dragon onto a bunch of suicidal missions, facing death on every front, diving into inescapable danger?”
Puddin nodded his head with eager panting.
“Shat up, baby!” She faced the shieldmaiden. She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. No word came out. They looked at each other in the eyes. “You really wanna do this?”
“Yes.”
She crossed her arms and shook her head with a long and heavy sigh. She looked again. “What is with those smoldering chocolate eyes of yours that make me want to comply?”
Dagny said nothing. She put her hand on her head and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. Hannah smiled a rueful smile.
“Fate,” Dagny said.
“Fate,” Hannah said. With a heavy sigh, she said, “We’re burning daylight, girl.”
With a deliberate speed they completed their preparation while Puddin watched the red and black sky with wary eyes, his fangs at ready. Then they were ready. They sat down and tugged on their gauntlets until they fit. Then they leaned over Puddin.
“Ready?” Hannah asked.
“Ready. It’s an honor serving with you, Lt. Morganstein.”
She looked back, “It’s an honor serving with you, Captain Mark.”
She replaced her goggles. “Okay, Puddin, on my mark go as fast as you can. Got that, baby? One. Two. Three. Go!”
He rocketed out of the wreckage, fast and low, snapping his wings with furious determination. Many lightnings flashed across the red and black sky. “A battleship in sight,” Hannah said. Dagny held her lifeline tighter.
Then they heard the slight hum of a propeller that grew louder by the second.
Hannah dashed her dragon hard to the left. The bullets missed them, leaving a series of tall splashes in the vacated waters. Her lips were a tight line as she focused on escape as the tracer lines passed them on either side. “Hang on!” Puddin twisted in a corkscrewed fashion as the girls held on. “Faster, baby!” He answered with renewed muscular snaps of his wings. “Dagny, give me your eyes.”
“I see five – no, six! Six bogeys on our tails. They’re in two formations!”
“Oy vey, they’re setting up a crossfire. Git me a snap, baby!”
He twisted a hard right. The enemy turned but not as hard, their fixed wings forcing a graceful arch.
“They’re still on us!”
“I know! Those planes’re good. Fast. We gotta keep evading until they run on fumes.” Shots flew past their heads. “Shit!”
Puddin shot high. Black plumes raced past the girls’ vision as they neared the battle. Hannah looked back. They were still on their tails. She looked ahead. Ash cloud ahead. A gamble formed in her head and Puddin understood. He flew straight.
As expected , the planes broke off, unwilling to clog up their engines. One followed.
Minutes passed as the pilot searched in the cloud.
A shape.
He peeked.
SMASH! Two large claws seized his wings. His eyes rounded as a flame formed the shape of a smile. He fired his useless guns. Then the dragon blew.
A burning plane fell in two pieces from the ash cloud toward the lake.
Puddin dove from the clouds for the waters. The three hovering planes spotted him and dived after him. Two more joined them.
“They’re surrounding us, Hannah!”
“I know!”
But no matter how they tried to evade, the pack were ready for them. They flew lower. The enemy followed. The shieldmaiden and the dragon rider looked at each other. “Fate,” they said in union.
She made a choice. Puddin twisted about to face them. “Give them the Helfire, baby, and make it good!”
He roared out his fire.
The other dragons roared back.
They swooped down fast, surprising the fighters. Some dragons crashed into some, ripping the propellers off. Others shredded off their wings as if paper. The luckier pilots broke off as a couple gave chase.
“Whooooh!” Hannah cried. “Fifth Wyvern Corps go!”
One dragon pulled up by Puddin. “Spitfire, is that you?!”
“Skylark! You’re a gift from the heavens!”
“We’ve tried raising you but got no answer!”
“Radio’s shot to shit!”
“Roger! We’ll cover you!”
“Yes! Let’s raise Hel, baby.”
––––––––––
HMS HENGIST
CIC
As the Damage Control team rushed about, extinguishing the various fires here and there, Popova glanced up at the the dancing cables spilling their sparkles. As the men shut off the power to the wires, her fingers traced the transparent plotting board with Wellings and Dobson when Mr. Mills raced over to her. “Marshal! The enemy planes are diverting up from the main body!”
He drew two quick arrows on the board’s backing. “Two forces, sir. The larger force go there,” he said as he pointed to the northeastern part of Nicaragua. “And the smaller force to the lake fleet.”
Dobson shook his finger to the northern arrow. “The air base. That’s where they’re going.”
She nodded. “Mr. Mills, raise our recon and notify them of the potential position of the base. Detach twenty of our dragons if we can to cover our boys. As for this other force, it can be no other than Dagny Mark. Reserve a company of dragons for carrier defense. Release the rest of the dragons. We can protect ourselves now.”
“I’ll notify the dragons at once, sir.”
“May the Gods protect you, Dagny,” the Marshal whispered.
––––––––––
LAKE NICARAGUA
The dragons flew straight in formation toward one of the largest battleships in the fleet, their hope high for a quick end to a long war.
Girl Blue radioed, “Riders! Bogeys at eleven o’ clock high!”
The planes came at them, blazing their death.
The dragons split up. The bolder tackled their attackers face on, their massive claws on their wings. The bullets ricocheted off their tough hide. They kept firing in hope of finding the slightest weakness. The dragons answered the insult with a roar and fire. The others shredded the steel off the fuselage. The planes fell to the oil-darkened waters. A lucky few bailed, their parachutes puffing up.
A few planes continued to chase Hannah’s squad. The alert crew of the battleship let loose their guns. The dragons evaded the fire as they neared.
Radio crackled. “Hot Lips, squad! Bogeys at three o’ clock!”
“Same at ten o’ clock!” Hebe answered.
“Maintain course!” Skylark said. “Our gunners can handle them.”
The planes neared and fired. A couple of dragons broke to engage them.
As Hannah engaged the ship, Dagny leaped, her gun at ready. Her line snaked fast until it snapped taut. As she swung under the dragon’s movement, she fired her gun in a continuous movement. She spotted a man and dropped her almost empty gun. She released her grip. She fell fast. Her feet slammed a man’s chest hard. She grasped the man’s shoulder and rolled over his head. The men closed in. From on her knee, she produced a handax and made a series of fast slashes across a few stomachs. Then another’s hamstrings. She winced as the big guns boomed out their discharges. She let the men rushed onto her deck. She jumped over the guardrail to the lower deck.
Puddin roared as the bullet hit his hide from high. He turned and directed fire at the flying offender. The pilot ducked and another took place to make a run.
Dagny raced to the three-gun turrets as the shouting increased in volume behind her. Shots fired. She ducked her head. Her hand dug into her bag. Pin flew. She twisted around to throw her gift. Before it bounced and rolled, she yanked another pin and tossed likewise. A bang ensued.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! She dropped to her knees, covering her ears as the turrets fired. As the firing crew reloaded, she sprinted for the hatch. The wheel spun, she pulled it open. Three grenades she threw in and she ran. Some men escaped before the gun control exploded.
Finding herself on the starboard, she raced toward the aft of the ship. High above her, a dragon seized a plane in mid-flight and ripped the tail off it with his jaws. As two planes dived to fire on him, he dropped the shattered tail. She darted a look up high. She ran faster and jumped for a shelter before it crashed onto the ship. She ducked out and ran further as the gas spread. She leaped over a steel box and crouched as the gas caught fire and exploded. She paused. Another explosion.
As the crew gathered to control the damage, she peeked. Where the tail had crashed, a large rip had opened up. Spotting one of the point defense crew firing onto the hovering dragons, she sneaked toward the gunners. She hacked at their backs with her handax. She swirled the guns and fired onto the guards firing on the dragons. Some fell. A sparkle on her armored shield. She ducked and turned to fire at the shooters. They scattered. She turned her guns at the bridge and fired on them. The shooters fired on her again. She returned fire. She then climbed up a ladder to atop a wide turret. She raced back to the impact site. Seeing a big hole, she picked up her flare gun and fired high. A red star flared out. She grasped a few grenades. She looked up and saw Puddin’s low approach. She tossed her grenades down the gap and ran away, darting her head back to see Puddin getting closer. A large claw plucked her fast.
The battleship shivered and groaned. Then a fireball erupted from its port side. Then another ripped both sides of its midship, lifting it high above the waters. Its bow tore itself off. Another explosion forced the ship onto its stern like a dying horse. The men were diving into the lake by thousands. As it sunk backward, it moved slow and then increased its inhuman speed as it took on the water. As it went under, its stern ripped itself apart.
––––––––––
HMS HENGIST
CIC
“Sitrep?” Popova asked as she approached the command station.
“We found the airbase, sir,” Dolson said as he looked up at her, his face lit from beyond. He pointed his china marker to a transparency map sitting on the lightbox-like surface of the command station. “Our boys’re laying a siege to it now.”
“Good,” she began to answer as a loud boom racked the ship.
“Marshal! The Duke of York just exploded midship toward its stern. The fire looks to be out of control, sir!”
Dobson stood up, “Damage report at once, boys!”
The bullhorn booped to life, “Hengist, York Actual. My compliments on your splendid job today, Marshal. I regret to inform you that York is lost. I have ordered all hands to abandon the ship. I propose to turn this unfortunate incident–”
“Incident, he said!” Wellings exclaimed.
“–to our advantage. I shall ram the fleet, sir. I would be immensely gratified if you could spare some help in recovering my people. Thank you and for Gods and Queen.” The horn chucked off.
“Good man, that Aldershot,” Dobson said.
“Wellings!” Popova ordered. “Recall twenty dragons to assist the SAR.”
“Marshal? What about that girl with dragonfire hair? They’re still gunning for her,” Wellings asked.
Popova shook her head. “Situation has changed, Commander. She must rely on her resourcefulness now.”
––––––––––
HMS DUKE OF YORK
OPWHOOPWHOOPWHOOPWHOOPWHOOPWHOOPWHOOPWHOOPWHOO
People rushed about, seeking their escape or scuttling vital data and equipment before they fall into the wrong hands. The marines and officers were shouting, “Go! Go! Go!” as they gave directions.
“Attention all hands. Abandon ship. Attention all hands. Abandon ship. This is not a drill. Attention all hands. Abandon ship,” a voice droned over the loudspeakers.
Another explosion. People screamed as they were thrown aside. “Move it, people! It’s alright. Just keep moving! Get to the life pods at once!”
All over the ship, people rushed outboard to the nooks with hatches opened to the life pods. They squeezed in one by one into the large ball-shaped conclaves. The first grasped their seats and buckled their full-body harnesses. They then grasped their shipmates to their laps. As they filled up, the evacuation warden shouted, “Shut it!” The officer nearest the hatch pulled the lever. The hatch dropped fast and then inflated to seal the opening.
BANG! BANG! went the explosive charges as they cracked the rail breaks holding the pods in place. The large black and red pods slid down their declined rails with increasing speed. The pods exited their short ramps and into the air. As the pods fell faster, their altitude meters were triggered. One by one, a puff of white popped from their tops to become parachutes and slowed their falls. Those that failed, their round shapes slammed hard into the waters and then bobbed up, their gyrostabilizers keeping the pods right-side up.
Atop the listing flight deck, dragons after dragons let hundreds of the fleeing personnel onto their backs while the various gunners defended them against the enemy planes. The wheeled weapon carts and other tools started to slide starboard. The burning carrier listed lower in the air. People ran faster for safety as York began to descend.
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LAKE NICARAGUA
High in the sky, melee ensued between the dragons and the fighters. Battle order dissolved into a series of opportunistic skirmishes as the players parried or broke off their various combat. Firefights grew haphazard with varied sources; the ships, the planes, the dragons, and the carriers in the ash-filled sky.
Dagny witnessed all this and she breathed hard. “I am blessed. I am blessed. Blessed in the Mysteries.” Then she saw the port side of a battleship rushing toward her. She readied herself and slapped Puddin’s leg. As they neared, he released her.
She rolled hand first onto the soaked deck. She got up. This is it. The last ship. Bullets hit the deck from high. She dashed to relative safety with sparkles following her on the worn deck.
In the notch of the ship structure, she unlooped her rifle from her shoulder. She checked the chamber and breathed deep. She was getting tired. She had been at it all day since before the dawn. “Fate.”
She spun around, her side protected, and fired high. The stock recoiled hard onto her sore shoulder. Ignore it. She fired it again and again. A man on high didn’t flinch she saw as he returned fire. Stupid. Or fearless. Doesn’t matter. Neutralize the threat.
She ducked out, firing a series of shots as she ran. Sparkles danced on his guardrails. He jerked back. Shoulder hit. Still standing. No time. She raced forward, a grenade in hand.
Men running toward her. She tossed. They scattered. It exploded in the air. Fire lit up some crates, drawing cries and water buckets. She darted inboard behind the steel boxes. She looked up. The dragons are still dunking out with the enemy. None were on this ship. It’s up to her alone. There are still too many men and even with her blessing she still possessed the weaknesses of her sex. She remembered her training at the school. Change the odds. Make space for herself to preserve her strength. She looked up.
The guns. She scurried from her spot. Evading their eyes, she reached the rear of the second forward turret as it turned. The guns discharged their ordnance with a terrible rattle. She crouched, covering her ears with her gloved hands. She peeked at the bridge. All eyes were on the sky. Then she saw an opened hatch leading to below.
She stole her way there. She opened the hatch a bit wider. She heard a yell from her side and seized her dagger and spun. He seized her dagger-wrist. She grasped his shirt on his shoulder. They struggled on their feet. Grunts flowed between them. Her dagger quivering between them. Their eyes locked.
Time.
She bit his nose hard. He grunted in shock. She bit harder. Dagger’s still not in his guts. He yanked her hair back. Her teeth became a vise on his nose. She kicked in his crotch. Pain released her hair. She let go of his bloody nose and slammed her shoulder into him. She freed her wrist. She plunged it in. A soft oh escaped his lips. Five strokes she made. No time for a kill. Enough to limit his resistance. She pulled back and looked inside the hatch. Inside, she found a tarp and covered him. She jumped into the hatch, leaving him bleeding on the deck.
At the bottom of the steps, she found a man focusing on his instrument board and sneaked up to his back. Her hand covered his mouth. Her dagger dug deep between his ribs, sending him into a shock. Then she drew a red line across his throat. She bent over his slumping form, posing her dagger in case of a sudden move. A moment of her ragged breath filled her ears. Dead.
She looked around. Clear. They must have gone above to fight the distracting fire. She saw a causeway and fled that way.
She stopped. The hatch to the armory. No man. A bit surprised, she recovered herself and approached with slow steps. A trap?
She wiped the blood off her dagger and sheathed it. Her gun she took from under her right arm and raised it at her shoulder’s level. She moved away from the hatch. She slid alongside the wall. A deep rumble rattled the ship. She froze, her feet ready to run. The rattle went away, leaving behind the normal din of blasting guns and the put-putting of machine guns.
She slid again. At the corner of a separate causeway, she pulled out her small mirror from one of her battle-corset’s multiple pouches. She held it slight at the corner. Its reflection showed an empty causeway. She licked her lips and dared a peek.
Empty. A trap?
Time.
With quick sideways steps she strolled to the hatch, her eyes darting back and forth. She tested the hatch and found it easy to open after accounting for the typical rust of any old naval vessel. She pressed her shoulder against the hatch and fished out a couple of half-pennies. Her gun at ready, she pressed it to a crack. She paused to let her eyes adjust to the darkness inside. She fingered her coins and scattered them inside. The coins clipped and clapped across the deck.
No firing.
Empty?
Smart?
She swung her gun around the edge of the hatch. Her eyes scanned the storage full of heavy ordnance. She crouched low by the shelves. She looked again. No one. She found that hard to believe but luck has a strange way of showing up. Her mind made, she dug in the bag for the last grenades and found a few bricks of plastic from Marion’s kit. She smiled. She stuffed them under the biggest ordnances and plugged in the wires. The other ends she attached to the timer and set the time at eight minutes. She did likewise in other places until her bag was empty.
She checked out the hatch. Still empty. She raced to start the timers one by one. The clicking began.
She slid to the hatch, her gun ready. Empty. She shut the hatch and ran.
––––––––––
HMS DUKE OF YORK
All equipment not strapped down was sliding off the flight deck in helter-skelter fashion as the burning carrier listed bad. The remaining gunners stood firm to fend off the dive bombers eager for glory. One managed to dump his load. Explosion erupted midship, crashing parts of the flight deck into the hanger below. One gunner caught the wing of the offending plane. It broke off midair and it began to spin a crazy spin and crashed into the lake, taking the pilot with it. York descended with a grand and disjointed majesty. Her sculptured rams pointed at the enemy fleet.
The order was given. The ship fired its thrusters and it moved forward like a lion. Its forward batteries started to fire everything they had. The other carriers moved away from the doomed ship.
The enemy realized the movement and their command ordered all guns and bombers to focus their salvo on York. The furious firing pockmarked the carrier’s bow with increased intensity, scrapping away her steel platings.
––––––––––
LAKE NICARAGUA
The roar of the battle increased every second within the ship Dagny realized. Must move posthaste. Abandoning all care, she rushed to the ladder and scurried up to the main deck.
The top hatch landed with a thud. The sky was lightening up with flaring streaks and starbursts.
A yell. She spun around and blew a set of holes in a chest with her gun. Another man. She fired more. She climbed out. More company. She grasped another gun from her belt and fired more.
Click-click!
She threw her gun into a man’s face. Then she aimed her second gun. His face caved in. She fired again to buy more space. Three fell to the deck for cover. Others ducked behind the steel protection.
As the big guns boomed out without cease, she ran for the stern. She jerked her head in every direction as she ran. Enemy approached from the stern and side. She knelt to take a gun from her boot and fired wild at the men on her side. Without checking, she broke for the stern.
They closed in together.
Click-click!
From her shoulder, she swung her rifle and aimed. One. Two. Three fell. She swung right. Men scattered. She ran again, ejecting the clip. She snapped in another and yanked back her bolt. She fired wild as she kept running. Some fell.
She spun around to fire at more men at her six.
Click-click!
She ran fast with her rifle in her hand. Her other hands dug into the bag. She threw the next to the last grenades at her rear and right and ducked behind a shielding bunk. They scattered.
BANG!
She rocketed from her cover, her rifle’s barrel in her hands like a club. She closed in and swung her stock. The man ducked, only to meet her boot that slapped his head sideways. She leaped over him to plant the firm sole of her boot onto another face. As he fell, she landed on both feet. She rushed head down at the next man, the one with a rifle. She landed hard against his belly. The side of her rifle snapped his chin up. She dropped both her rifle and herself to the deck. She hooked the back of his knees with her leg. He fell back. Up to her knee, she punched him without a reservation. His rifle she claimed.
On her knee, she aimed and fired astern. She thrust to her feet and swung and sniped a man on the crow’s nest. She returned her attention to the stern and wounded another man. She fired in the forward direction.
No time.
She dashed to the stern. She took the last grenade and pulled the pin with her teeth. She cast it behind her.
BOOM!
More men blocking her path. She discarded the bag and aimed. But she did not fire.
The men were yelling and rushing to the port side in panic.
She spun around, her rifle at ready. Her eyes rounded like saucer dishes.
York was heading her way.
She ran. She ran harder and faster than she could remember. The rifle. The axes. The extra clips. She ditched them all but her sword on her back.
York loomed closer, larger, burning.
She raced down to the stern. Closer. Closer.
York grew larger as her steel skin was being shredded by the desperate ships’ cannons.
The stern. She leaped onto it.
York‘s shattered bow plowed the water. The waters rushed out.
She leaped, arms out like a bird.
Behind her, the armory blew up high through the main deck.
York crashed hard into the lake. Her bow was crushing an enemy ship like paper.
As her pointed hands plowed the wet surface, the battleship ripped its sides out at once.
York shredded itself apart like a balloon in a massive explosion. A circular wave radiated from the blast, scattering and capsizing the various ships. Enflamed oil slicks spread out.
Dagny stayed underwater, breaststroking away as the burning oil slick streaked over her head. The hot flames writhing like living snakes in various diamond-shaped pockets. An irresistible wave rose, sweeping away all things. It carried her forward faster and faster toward the land.
She seized the advantage. She broke through a clear gap to gasp for air. Then ducked under. She swam faster even as the wave bore her high. Luck. But this will change when the wave reaches the banks. It will then flow backward, carrying her back to the sure doom of entrapment and drowning amid the wreckage. She must make the distance at once.
She swam hard. Harder. Her lungs sickened of trapped carbon dioxide. No time. No time.
A clear opening. She thrust her head with an exploding gasp. No time. She ducked under. Stroke. Stroke. Her limbs screamed for relief, for rest. She ignored them. She willed them to obey. Another opening. Another gasp for sweet air. Another diving. She felt a cramp sneaking up her legs. No time. No time. Rest on the land she will. Later. Stroke, stroke, she thought, seeking a distraction from the pain. She broke the surface. Stroke. Breathe. Stroke. Her chest hurt. Breathe. Stroke. Stroke. Breathe! Stroke. Land. Land close. Stroke. Breathe! So close. She’s exhausted. Don’t think. Stroke. Stroke. Breathe! So tired. So –
Then she felt it before she saw it.
The water was flowing back. Away from the land.
Panic seized her. She must redouble her effort. Stroke! Stroke! Stroke! Breathe! Must put more distance. Must –
The waters mastered her. She couldn’t fight it. She could only flow, riding the retreating wave. Back to the wreckage. Despair. Anger. They overwhelmed her as the wave overwhelmed her. So tired. So stiff. Her head bobbed with a spit and a cough. Need to sleep. To rest. Burning oil surrounded her. She ducked her head. They slid over, the fire-snakes. She held in as long as she could. Break! She thrust her head above with a painful gasp.
The lake started to calm. Bobbing, she sighed and looked about.
The sky was dark and quiet. No battery boomed. No missile flew. No hum of death. Ashes were thinning as the ash clouds were being blown away in a new direction. Small numbers of sun-shafts peeked through the thick clouds. Red lava glowed hot far off. Wreckage everywhere. Water in her mouth. She spit it out. She could swim now. It would be easy now, easy stroke. She had the time now.
She did not want to.
The land so far away and death so near. She bobbed up and down like a toy. She couldn’t move her legs. Nor her arms. So stiff. So tired. She spit out more water. Can’t. Can’t keep my head up. She tried to kick her legs. Oh they hurt. How they hurt. Her teeth gritted. Lake bathed her face. Could…could not wipe her face.
She eyed the sky. Dark. Quiet. Still. She spit out the water. She was sinking. Slow. Slow sinking.
With an extra strength she tried to stay above. To breath. She was so tired. So sore.
Water waved over her and she slipped under.
Down.
Down she went, floating under, her limbs useless, hopeless. As she stank, air bubbled out of her gasping mouth.
Her wide eyes focused on the dancing lights on the liquid surface. Her dragonfire hair flowed about her head with lazy movement.
Down, down, down she descended, into the underworld, to the deep roots of the world where the Queen of sunbright hair awaits her with a warm kiss and a hand of friendship, the second mother to our souls. Where she awaits to lead her to the green fields of Elysium. She could not fight it anymore.
Time.
Time to go below to the deep roots of the world. Fate. She had done her best, had rendered her service to her sacred island and to her Queen. It was a good death. A just death. Her redemption completed.
Her still eyes watched the shimmering world of life, full of dancing lights, receded. The bubbles from her open lips grew smaller. Time.
The aboveworld grew bright she noticed with a fleeting interest.
Then a great shape loomed over the light-filled ripples, darkness filling her vision.
A cloud of bubbles grew fast and silent toward her.
A claw, great and outstretched, reached for her.
With a jerk she was pulled back, toward the shimmering light.
With a crash of broken water, her lifeless body was lifted into the whooping air.
The claw squeezed her until her battle-corset cracked under its awful strength. She felt nothing. Tighter the grip. The deep whooping of wings filled her drained ears. The clouds broke. Lord Apollo’s light filled her blank eyes, warm and gentle and healing. With a sudden jerk, water geysered out of her mouth. Air flowed into her blank face.
She coughed hard. She blinked.
Then the shadow of the angel of the Gods entered her light-filled world, her scarf waving in a gentle breeze.
She felt wind blowing on her wet right cheek.
The water rushing fast under her.
The angel slid her googles up and bent closer, reaching for her.
Mum? Dagny wondered.
She neared. Shadows fled her face. Her soot-brushed cheeks made her blue eyes owl-like, wise and caring and loving. She touched her shoulder, mouthing unheard words.
Her blank eyes stared on at her angel.
Hannah spoke again, emotion in her voice, “I will never leave you again.”
Dagny lowered her head and closed her eyes.
Blackness.