William Forstchen - Down to the Sea

Annoying flies, Hanaga thought, rarely capable of damaging a battle cruiser but bothersome nevertheless. He trained his glasses back on the horizon. It was difficult to discern, but he thought he could see the observation tower of a battle cruiser, a dot between sea and sky. The horizon, for the breath of a hand span, was black with smoke that continued to spread, sign enough that the entire fleet was approaching.

His frigates, storming forward at nearly fifteen knots, were now more than a league ahead and spreading out, while the cruiser squadron moved to windward, staying in formation, line abreast.

Walking to the railing he looked aft, back toward Crev-aga. The human city was in flames, marking the immolation of a hundred thousand, a city which had been part of his traitorous brother’s original fiefdom. So much for Yasim’s protection. It had fed the warriors of his fleet in an orgy of feasting that had lasted three days and nights.

The bridge around him was cleared, all having respectfully withdrawn, and he saw the priest of the Holy Order. He beckoned Hazin to come to his side.

“You assured me that the Grand Master had taken care of Sar,” he snarled, keeping his voice low so no one would hear the exchange.

“I did, Your Highness.”

“I emptied my treasury to your Order. Yesterday, when we assaulted this city, your precious Shiv warriors failed to arrive as promised.”

“Sire, you know a storm swept south of here. It delayed the transports.”

“And now Sar has joined my brother? To many coincidences, priest. Too many.”

“Sire, I can assure you that the Order honors its contracts.”

“Hanaga sniffed derisively. “If I believed all you told me, Hazin, I’d have died years ago. I do not believe in coincidences. I paid more than thirty million to the Grand Master to use the Shiv and thus spare my troops, and another thirty to assure that Sar either joined me or was killed.”

“And I can promise you he has joined you. Yes, his fleet sails behind your brother’s. And why? Wait until battle is well joined and you will see.”

Hanaga turned and caught the eye of his officer of the guard, motioning him to come over as well. “I have been assured by this priest that Sar is on our side.”

The guard, well understanding the tone of his master, said nothing, waiting for what came next.

“If Sar’s ships open fire on us, I want you to cut his heart out.”

Hazin’s gaze did not waver. “I can assure you, sire,” he whispered, “such theatrical statements are a waste of time for both of us. You will see the truth soon enough.” Ignoring him, Hanaga turned away, raising his telescope to scan the approaching fleet.

The smoke on the horizon continued to expand outward. The observation tower of a battle cruiser now rose well above the horizon, and he saw more tops as well. The range had to be less than seven leagues.

Hanaga turned to an aide and told him to pass the word to the master gunner to be certain to lay on the lead battle cruiser.

Speed dropped off slightly as steam was diverted from the engines to power the six armored turrets, two forward, two amidships and two aft. The ponderous turrets slowly began to turn to port, then back to starboard, testing their traverse. As they did, the single heavy gun in each turret rose, then lowered. The lighter turrets, lined up below on the lower gun deck, did the same, but these were powered by the muscle of a half dozen crew turning the traverse cranks.

Atop the main turrets, gunners handling the steam-powered multiple-barrel guns were busy loading clips of ammunition. Spotters were scanning the skies overhead, watching as aerosteamers dodged in and out, skirmishing, jockeying for position.

Another one came spiraling down, this one with the distinctive fork-tailed stem and single main wing of a Red Banner plane.

“Sire, may I point out that if Sar was not fulfilling his obligation, he’d be sailing with your brother. Instead, he is farther back,” Hazin whispered, daring to come to Hana-ga’s side.

Hanaga felt a cool uneasiness that the priest stood so close to him. The Order of the Shiv, once just another cult, was now a power to be feared even by those of the Golden Family of the Throne. After all, it was he who had first used them to murder his elder brother for control of the throne. Hazin had been the instrument behind that first arrangement and during the last twenty years of conflict Hazin had stayed by his side.

“I would interpret this as meaning that Sar is coming on at full steam,” Hazin continued, whispering softly. “Your brother is trying to avoid action with him and close with us first. This is not betrayal, it is fulfillment of an agreement.”

Hanaga looked over. Yes, the priest did have the “sense,” the at times unnerving ability to read minds. It was why he made such an excellent truth sayer, one who could read the thoughts of the unwary, who were not aware that a Master Priest of the Order often hid behind the throne at audiences.

He could sense the priest’s eyes looking at him, piercing, as if gazing straight into his soul. He knew the priest was trying to gain an advantage, and he held his gaze for a moment, then threw back his head and laughed.

“There is a game within a game, priest, and at this moment I shall simply carve straight in and see if Tenga”-as he said the word of the Immortal, he briefly lowered his head-“is with me or not.”

The priest smiled. “I never knew you across all these years to be religious. You use me as you use anyone else.”

“Yet I once called you a friend.”

He allowed himself to smile when he spoke the word friend . It had indeed been true. They were of the same age. Hazin, of a minor family, had been sent to be a playmate and companion before going off to join the Order. The Order had returned him, ten years later, to serve as adviser and liaison to a brother who would murder a brother and thus start the bloody civil war that had consumed the Empire.

“Once?”

“You have your path, I mine. Besides, did you not once tell me that only fools have friends, and emperors who are fools do not live long?”

“No, you still have friends, My Emperor. The difference is, at least with your friends, if you should decide to dispose of them, you give them a painless death.”

Hazin smiled. “Your offer to have my heart cut out rather than consign me to the amphitheater, is that a mark of friendship in our world?”

“If I want to be emperor, I need first of all to be ruthless, even to friends if need be. You told me that as well more than once. ‘The greater the power you seek, the fewer you should allow yourself to love. For ultimate power, let no one into your heart.’ Thus it was written by Batula the Prophet.”

Hazin smiled. “I taught you that, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”

The emperor continued to stare at Hazin for a moment, as if trying to judge something, and then he turned away, deliberately focusing his attention on his brother’s fleet, drawing closer. The hulls of the battle cruisers, and even of the frigates, were clearly in view. The range was less than four leagues.

Behind him, the bridge crew was at work. The master gunner was quietly communicating via a speaking tube with the range finders perched inside the observation platform, which soared a hundred feet above the bridge. Receiving the report, he then pulled open another tube and passed the information on to the turrets, where gun elevations were being set. Technically, the two fleets were already within range. The heaviest guns were easily capable of reaching across four leagues. But no one had yet to master the two problems of long-range gunnery: firing weapons from the unstable platform of a ship’s deck and hitting a moving target.