John Ringo - Emerald Sea

“Martin.”

Martin had been taking a nap in his cabin when Conner’s projection appeared. He had suffered from seasickness at the beginning of the voyage, not to mention getting bounced around in the unhandy vessel. But in time he’d gotten his sea legs and now was enjoying the rocking of the waves, wishing that he’d had the sense to bring a woman along to pass the time.

He opened his eyes and rolled up to sit on the edge of the cot, but didn’t get up since he had an unfortunate tendency, still, to hit his head on the rafters of the low room.

Conner’s projection, normal sized, was “standing” with his head just under the rafters and his feet stuck through the floor up to his thighs.

“I made contact with the orcas and ixchitl,” Martin said. “Thanks for rounding up Rob. He was useful in establishing my credentials.”

“So I heard,” Conner said with a dry smile. “Shanol is not going to be happy.”

“Shanol thinks he’s the biggest fish in the sea,” Martin replied with a shrug. “Disabusing him of that notion was useful. What’s up?”

“We have a new source in the UFS ship,” Conner said. “Obviously I won’t say who; need-to-know and all that. But I can now tell you of their position and plans in something like real-time.”

“Very useful.”

“Indeed. They still don’t have anything like offensive capability; they’re not sure the dragons can get on and off the ship for that matter. There are only a couple of dozen marines on the ship and the crew is hardly trained in combat. You should be able to take the ship, or at least sink it, with only one of your own vessels, much less all six.”

“Good to know,” Martin mused. “That way I can spread them around. I’ve been talking to the captain and even with their position and plans known, finding one ship at sea is, apparently, not an easy task.”

“I’m sure you’ll be up to the task,” Conner replied. “This is using energy I sorely need for the other tasks I’ve been set. If you need me, use the data crystal to contact me. Keep it with you, that way I’ll know where to find you.”

Herzer was up before dawn to the twitter of bosun pipes and the cry of “All hands weigh anchor.”

He picked an out-of-the-way position, he thought, to watch the crew set sail. Most of it was a mystery, but he was fascinated by the way that the sails were raised.

Much of the crew was up in the rigging letting the sails out, which looked like lunacy from the deck, and another group was engaged in raising the anchor. Since the sails had to be tightened up, this left a relatively small group to do that. And he could tell that the sails were going to be pulling hard, really hard. No matter how many blocks and tackles were involved, and he quit counting at fifty, there was no way that the ten or so men could pull the sails tight.

But most of the ropes attached to the sails ran back to a position by the last mast. And there was the answer; a small, low-power steam engine. At the end of the engine was a metal pulley that was creating a constant turn. Each of the lines was taken, in turn, around the pulley and used for tensioning, sometimes two at once. In a relatively short time, and with very few hands, the sails were set, the anchor was up and the Bonhomme Richard was sailing out of the harbor. As the ship got under way he could see the first of the wyverns lifting off from the beach, accompanied by Joanna.

He walked back to the stern of the ship and climbed a ladder to a position at the rear. The skipper was up there bellowing orders at the crew to get the ship “into the wind” whatever that meant, and Herzer gave him, and the ship’s wheel, a wide berth. But at the very rear of the deck there was another position with a pintle-mounted chair and board table. The XO, Commander Mbeki, was there, occupying the chair and sipping on a cup of sassafras tea, along with Duke Edmund and Evan Mayerle, all of them watching the approaching dragon.

“Welcome to primary flight operations, Lieutenant,” the XO said as he walked up. “We’re going to try to recover them in the bay; if they can’t get onboard in this mill-pond there’s no way they can land at sea.”

Joanna had lined up to try first and the line of dragons half-hovering in the light wind was a sight to behold; he could only imagine what it would be like when the ship got a full wing. Herzer watched her come gliding in but he knew, instinctively, that she was too fast and too low. As she got to within a hundred meters of the craft she realized it as well and tried to correct but she was still too low and almost crashed into the water before flapping upward and spiraling off to their right.

Jerry tried it next and he was too high. He tried to correct at the last minute as well but fell out of the proper glide path and also nearly landed in the drink. Herzer thought he might be riding Chauncey, but the wyverns still looked the same to him.

“This isn’t working,” Mbeki growled.

“I don’t think they can figure out what’s right from where they are,” Edmund muttered.

“No, sir,” Herzer said. “Sir, it occurs to me that it’s got to be something like catching a running prey and I don’t think wyverns do that. We might be going too fast for the first time. If we could slow the ship down, maybe turn it towards the wind…”

“Skipper,” the commander called. “Request you come into the wind, make minimum sail for steerage only.”

“All hands! All hands!”

The sailors, once again, climbed the rope ladders and this time pulled in all the sails but one of the triangular ones on the front. The boat slowed noticeably and the wind now seemed to be coming from directly in front of the ship.

“We can’t point directly to the wind, can we?” Edmund asked.

“No, but we’re still making about four klicks,” the commander noted. “There’s not much wind today so it feels like it’s from right in front of us. But the wyverns will be pushed to one side as they come in.”

Herzer watched Jerry start to line up again and quietly backed away from the group. There was a ladder up to the platform at the rear of the deck and he rapidly ascended it. The ladder was on the outside of the platform and the deck so he found himself precariously dangling over the water three stories below.

When he reached the top of the platform he found it open with no recesses or obstructions of any sort. He moved to the rear of the platform and waved his hands over his head, looking up at the approaching wyvern. After a moment he saw Jerry’s head come up and was sure that he was looking at him. When he was he lowered his arms until they were outstretched and then waved them upward; the wyvern was well below the “right” glide angle to make a landing. There was a moment’s pause then Jerry coaxed the beast upward. The movement got him out of line and Herzer directed him left, then held his arms out straight. As the wyvern neared he, again, dropped low so Herzer ordered him upward. Jerry followed the command and as he swept in in a flurry of wings Herzer dropped to the platform and shielded his head. He was rewarded with a massive “thump” and the platform shook under his body.

Herzer rolled over and looked up at the wyvern, which was eyeing him like dinner.

“There is no way to tell the right way to land from up there,” Jerry yelled. “None!”

“We figured that out,” Herzer replied as the rest of the party from below made their way up the ladder.

“Great landing, Mr. Riadou,” the commander said, smiling. “I thought we weren’t going to be able to get you in.”

“I wouldn’t have made it if it weren’t for Herzer,” Jerry said. Handlers had come forward and were attaching traces to the wyvern. The center-rear of the platform suddenly slanted downward and the handlers walked the wyvern down the slope and into the broad hatch to take it below.