“We are going to need to take the main deck completely by surprise. We’ve locked up one traitor, but he was obviously talking to someone, so I suspect that they are going to start locking down the ship and hunting us sooner rather than later,” Thom said quietly.
“If we can get onto the quarterdeck, we can swing the big guns around to the deck,” Aubrey said. “I’m not sure I want to fire on our own men, but most of those on deck are handpicked by Fuhrman and Stemmer.”
“So you don’t mind a warning shot or two, Patrick?” one of the other officers said with a grin.
“Not at all, Jacob,” Aubrey replied. “Although you don’t get first shot at Fuhrman, you know.”
“I was second gunner under him, I should, by rights,” the man said.
“Enough!” Thom snapped. “If we can get control of the guns it will help, getting onto the quarterdeck will be the trick.”
“Excuse me, sir,” Riggan said quietly.
“What is it, Riggan?”
“If I may be so bold, sir, there is the private staircase from the Weaver’s quarters onto the deck.”
“He’s right,” Tristan said.
“I heard them saying the doors were all rigged with charges,” Aubrey pointed out.
“Of course they are, sir. I would be a fool to let them into the Weaver’s quarters, wouldn’t I?” Riggan grinned.
“Wait.” Thom turned to Riggan. “Does that mean you have a way to get in and out of there without using the lifts?”
“I have ways of getting around the ship without using any of the lifts or other public ways. How do you think the dragons have been haunting the place?” Riggan asked with a smirk. “I’ll take you all up there, and disarm the charges on the door.”
“That would be helpful. One group can head directly onto the quarterdeck, the other through the maintenance hatchway that services the officers’ lift. It will put you onto the main deck, below the break for the quarterdeck. Can you get them there, Riggan?”
“I’ll take them first, and be back for you in a few minutes, sir,” Riggan said.
“Patrick?” Thom said softly. “This is a volunteer mission.”
“Like I wouldn’t volunteer. But don’t shoot me, okay?” The man laughed and motioned to Riggan. “I need half of this group to come with me. Volunteers only,” he said.
“I’m with you,” the second gunner, Jacob, said. As soon as he spoke, a group gathered around Aubrey. With a quick salute towards Thom, they left the brig.
“Now, Dr. Webber, I want you to stay here until we give you an all clear from the deck. We’re going to need med teams, and having you get shot up in the process won’t be any help to us,” Thom said, meeting her eyes.
“Understood. As much as I want to be there, I know my duty. I’ve served on the lines before and I know where I can do the most good. This is a good defensible position too, just in case.”
“Good, I’m glad I didn’t have to fight you over that.” He turned to Tristan.
“No,” Tristan said before Thom could speak. “I am going with you.”
“If you get killed there is no one to fly the ship,” Thom said.
“If I get killed, it means you and everyone is dead too, Captain, you know that. I might as well be there so we can get the sails up as quickly as possible.”
“Master Weaver…” Thom began.
“Captain Barrett,” Tristan answered, wondering if he would have to pull rank on his friend.
“”Stay behind me.”
“I will,” Tristan assured him. He had no intention of running onto the deck first. He wished that there was a way he could prevent Thom from leading the attack, but he doubted there was anything he could say that would make a difference.
“Captain? Are you ready?” Riggan asked, appearing out of nowhere.
“I can see why the crew thinks the ship is haunted,” Tristan said with a nervous laugh.
“We’ll wait for your call, Captain,” Webber said. “Try and…”
“We’ll free him,” Thom said quietly. “Don’t worry about that. Riggan lead the way.”
Riggan headed out of the brig and turned left, leading them away from the bow. “They’ve locked down all the lifts. The main work passages are closed up as well. They’re expecting something,” Riggan said as he moved further and further into the ship.
“I figured as much. Our traitor did a lot of damage before we caught him,” Thom muttered.
“No worries, Captain, sir, I never used those ways. That would have gotten me caught on the first day.”
“How have you been getting around?” Tristan asked quietly as they walked.
“Well, not that I looked, but there was a set of plans just sitting in your quarters, sir. I saw them there and it was a bit of a gift, they mark all the open spaces in the ship, and an old ship rat like me, well, it was easy to find my way around with a map in my hands.”
Thom chuckled. “Very good, Riggan.”
“Thank you, sir. Here we are.”
It looked like all the other wall panels. Tristan could see the disbelief on the faces of the group as they stood in front of it. Riggan ignored them and pulled a small knife from his pocket. He slid the blade along the seal in the wall and suddenly the panel popped open. Pressing a finger to his lips, Riggan motioned them inside. Thom led the way, with Tristan right behind him. Once they were all in, Riggan sealed the panel behind them and turned on a small lamp. He stepped up beside Thom.
“We can’t use much light, or they’ll know,” he said almost soundlessly. “And no talking at all.”
“No talking,” Thom said, and the order passed quietly down the group.
Once he was sure everyone was ready, Riggan set out. They were walking on a piece of grating that was no more than three feet wide. Tristan made the mistake of looking down once and nearly fell over as a wave of vertigo hit him. The grating ran along the inside wall, but he could see the sparkle of the willowisps on the sails many, many decks below. Suddenly the ledge seemed much smaller than it actually was. Knowing how far down it was didn’t help the pounding of his heart at all. After what seemed like an eternity, Riggan stopped by a small ladder. He set the light down beside the first rung and started up. Thom followed, climbing easily. Tristan stepped onto the rung cautiously. His leg was still not as strong as it could be, there was the old wound from the bombing as well as the more recent graze when they were tossed overboard. He hoped that neither his hands nor his legs gave out on the climb.
It didn’t take long before they were out of the small pool of light cast by Riggan’s lamp and surrounded by a deep, impenetrable darkness. The lack of light seemed to suck away noise as well, and Tristan’s world narrowed to the rungs that went on forever. One hand up, one foot, the other hand, the other foot, over and over. He was beginning to get tired, his leg aching and his back pulling along the old scar. Grinding his teeth, he kept going. It had been his idea to come along, and he was not going to let Thom and the rest of the crew down by falling to his death—and he knew that’s what it would be. They were moving up the hull and there was nothing between him and the bottom deck but the men on the ladder below him.
Finally, a small star of light sparkled above them. In several more feet, Tristan could see it was another small lantern. Riggan stepped off the ladder and waited for Thom. They had to help Tristan over, much to his embarrassment, but his leg had reached the end of its endurance on the climb. Once he was safely on the small ledge, he took a deep breath and smiled that he was okay. He doubted Thom and Riggan believed him, but none of them had time to wait. Riggan picked up another that was sitting beside it the ladder. Turning it on, he set it back down and then started along the ledge, heading back towards the stern and Tristan’s quarters.
They were nearly at the end of the walkway when Riggan stopped. He took his knife out again and pressed it against something on the wall. Tristan couldn’t make out what. The panel moved aside and Tristan looked into his office in surprise. Riggan
grinned at him as he stepped onto the carpet. Shaking his head, Tristan grinned back. Being in his cabin gave Tristan a much needed boost. It all seemed possible now that they were here. The group filed in silently as Tristan and Thom stepped into the main cabin.
Riggan was busy at the door to the quarterdeck stairs, disarming the charge. When he was done, he came back over to them. “I left the charges on the main door in place in case we need to retreat,” he said. “It will only take a second to fix it, but…”
“Good idea,” Thom said, pulling out his gun and holding it in his left hand, with his sword in his right.
“Just a moment, sir.” Riggan disappeared back into the office for a moment, then was back. “Mr. Aubrey is about to make his appearance to give us a chance to get on the deck.”
“I didn’t approve that,” Thom growled. “Okay, mercy when possible, but don’t be fools. We need to take the deck as quickly as possible.” Thom turned to Tristan. “Behind me.”
“And me, sir, sorry,” Riggan said, stepping in front of Tristan.
Thom eased the door open and the stench of the sails filled the cabin. With a nod to the group he slipped quickly up the stairs. Following him, Tristan was surprised when they stepped onto the deck. The officers on the quarterdeck were all focused on the fighting on the main deck below them. Stemmer and Fuhrman were standing by the helm, Chris Muher chained to the deck beside Fuhrman. Muher looked over as they reached the deck and grinned. Tristan breathed a sigh of relief that the man was still alive. Moving as silently as they could their group slipped onto the deck. Three men veered off towards the guns that sat at the taffrail facing outwards. Thom was nearly to Stemmer when they were spotted.
The deck exploded around them. Where they had been focused on the deck below a moment before, now the officers and men turned on Thom and his group. Tristan saw several men closing on Thom, before he himself was grabbed from behind. Desperately trying to break free, he tried to reach the blade at his belt, and when that failed he dragged his nails across the arm that was on his throat. The man holding him grunted in pain but didn’t let go. Tristan’s vision was starting to close down. He could hear muffled explosions, but his lungs were aching for air, the fight was going out of his limbs and he knew he was almost gone—when suddenly he was free.
“Sorry, sir, didn’t mean to take so long, I got sidetracked,” Riggan said, offering him a hand up. There was a large gash on Riggan’s skull. “I brought the Interface, if you want to get it reseated. I’ll watch your back.”
Tristan nodded, his throat still aching, and stumbled towards the Interface that was in place. He eyed the thing with distaste and kicked it over. A black ooze ran across the deck from where he had broken the linkage. “I need to clean this before we can put mine back,” he said to Riggan and then ran across the deck to his cabin, ignoring the fighting going on around him as he focused on what needed to get done. He grabbed his bag and ran back on deck. Glancing around, he could see things weren’t going as well as they’d hoped. There were many men down on the lower deck—he recognized some of them. The three men that had headed towards the guns lay dead a few feet short of their goal, What stopped Tristan in his tracks was Fuhrman shoving a gun against Thom’s head.
“Stop!” he shouted. “Or I’ll kill him.”
“They aren’t going to stop,” Thom snarled. “None of us are.”
“Then I guess you get to die,” Fuhrman said with satisfaction. The gun went off, but Thom was still standing and Fuhrman was on the ground, yanked off his feet by Muher. “I’ll kill you for this!” Fuhrman shouted.
“Me first,” Muher said, his voice weak.
“Thom!” Tristan shouted as he saw Stemmer pull his gun and turn it on Thom. Tristan dropped his bag and pulled out his gun, firing carefully. The former captain dropped to the deck.
“Thanks!” Thom shouted.
“You can’t win this,” Fuhrman said. “There’s too many loyal to the Navy and not dragon lovers like you.”
“I think that’s where you’re wrong,” Thom said with a grin. The big guns swiveled around to face the deck.
“You won’t fire on your own men.”
“Maybe, maybe not—but I am sure that they will happily eat any of your men, Fuhrman.”
Tristan looked up; Fenfyr and Taminick were flying straight towards the ship at high speed. There was a slight hiss as the dragons came in, and as soon as they settled on deck—Taminick on the main deck and Fenfyr on the quarterdeck—the fighting paused.
Taminick looked around at the crew surrounding her. “I smell the stink of Vermin filth on some of you.” She leaned down so her head was on a level with the men. “I don’t like humans who smell of Vermin.”
Weapons began to drop. One or two of the more foolish still tried to fight. Thom dispatched one of Fuhrman’s men on the quarterdeck and Tristan saw three fall on the deck below. Taminick knocked another group down with one swipe of a massive foreclaw. One of the midshipmen tried to attack Tristan. Fenfyr laughed as he knocked the man down and put his foot on him.
“Can I crush him?” the dragon asked, sounding way too happy.
“That will make a mess, Master Fenfyr,” Riggan said. “Perhaps we should throw him overboard like he did the Captain and Master Tristan.”
“Hmm, or I could eat him…”
“No! Please, no! I’ll confess, I’ll sign anything, just please let me go!” the man shouted.
“Take him to the brig with the others,” Thom said, walking over.
“Not even a little taste?” Fenfyr said sadly.
“Well, maybe a small one.”
“No, please…” the man cried.
“I think he fainted,” Thom said mildly. “It will make him easier to transport. Take the ones who still want to serve the former captain to the brig and lock them in!” He walked to the command area. “Med teams to the main deck.”
“On our way,” Rose Webber answered calmly.
“Where’s the key to these chains?” Thom asked Fuhrman, pointing to Muher.
“I’m not giving it to you.”
“Fenfyr, can you help?” Tristan asked. The dragon huffed and snapped the lock holding the chains in place.
“You’re going to pay for this when Davis hears about it,” Fuhrman said defiantly.
“This,” Thom wave his hands, “Was sanctioned by Admiral O’Brian. I am Captain of the Winged Victory now.”
“You’re lying!” Fuhrman said. “I am here by a direct order, this is not going to sit lightly at headquarters. I’m going to report on your treason as soon as I can.”
“It’s going to take you a little time to do that, we have to rendezvous with the fleet. The Vermin are heading in, and we need to be there to meet them. Which reminds me. Fenfyr? Taminick? Would you be so kind as to remove those sails?”
“With pleasure,” Fenfyr said, launching himself to the mizzenmast.
The two dragons made quick work of it, tearing the sails down, then shredding them so they could never be used again. Once the last piece was down, they dropped them overboard and let the Winds carry them away. Even though Tristan knew there was no dragon mind to mourn, he still whispered the spell of release as the last of the sails drifted away.
“Let’s get our sails up,” Thom said with a grin. He hit the ship-wide comm system. “This is Captain Barrett, we are going to raise the sails and head in to rendezvous with the fleet. The Vermin are coming! As you know, this ship was designed to be our best hope against a massed attack. It’s time to put that to the test. The Master Weaver is seating the Elemental Interface and we should be ready to sail in three hours.”
“You’re going to kill us all,” Fuhrman said, spitting at Thom.
“Well, then at least you’ll die too,” Thom said with a smile.
XXIX
The med team, led by Rose Webber, arrived on deck as Tristan was working to clean out the linkage for the Elemental Interface. She raced across the deck straight to where Chris Muher was, dropp
ing to her knees beside him as she carefully inspected his wounds. Tristan couldn’t hear what she was saying, but the smile on the general’s face was gentle even though he was grimacing in pain. Thom was clearing the last of the mutineers off the deck and assigning security to escort them below. There were too many to fit in the brig, so he sent the officers, petty officers and other obvious leaders there and sent the rest to the second lowest deck to have them secured in one of the storage bays that quickly emptied of cargo.
Once they had been taken care of, Thom gave the order to stop the engines and lower the masts as far as they could so they could put the sails back on them. Tristan watched the masts going down, hoping that his assurances to Thom about the sails re-bonding with the ship were not misplaced. He had some doubts, the willowisps might sense the filth of the Vermin sails and refuse the crosstrees that had held them. He shoved those thoughts away and focused back on the Interface. The linkage was at last clean of the last vestiges of the “Interface” Fuhrman had tried to use. Tristan stood and gently picked up his Elemental Interface, placing it carefully over the linkage and softly intoned a cleansing spell that he hoped would help. He held his breath until he felt the thing seat itself. Looking down, he saw the lights slowly coming on. Smiling, he bent down and clipped it into place, ready for the sails as soon as the masts were raised.
He walked over to where Thom was standing watching the activity on deck. Webber was still kneeling beside Muher, which made Tristan worry about what the man had suffered at Fuhrman’s hands. He knew that Thom would have preferred to kill the man, and Fenfyr had the same opinion, but he was one of the few that knew the details of the plan and who at Naval headquarters was involved. Stemmer knew, but the former captain had been whisked away by the med teams. Tristan was still dealing with how he felt about that. There was a very good chance that his shot would prove fatal, he’d never thought he’d take a human life, but Stemmer had thrown Thom overboard, taken the ship and possibly been involved in the bombing that had killed Miri. It was a lot to weigh, but guilt was not getting the upper hand.
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