“Send: We’re going in!” he cried.
Maker, that thing is big! he thought as the Nancy steadied its dive, angling just forward of a massive raised structure that seemed to extend most of the length of the ship. Smoke gushed skyward from the four tall funnels, and he thought the flat, wide feathers of the ship’s wake had grown a little broader. Maybe it had increased speed? Perhaps the most unsettling thing about the great ship was that despite its size, there was not a living thing moving upon it. All its crew had to be enclosed within. It was as if this huge thing he, his OC, and two other frail planes were hurtling toward was a giant, unfeeling, uncaring-maybe unkillable-machine. His left hand inched toward the low, leather-wrapped lever nestled down to the side of his wicker seat. The closer he got to his target, the surer he was that the iron was bolted onto some kind of framework, at least. But the bolt pattern was almost continuous, so maybe there was solid wood beneath the iron? That had to be it, and the bolts were huge! Big enough to see at- Shutters suddenly rose near the apex at the top of the ship, where the sloping iron of one side joined that of the other, and what looked like dozens of small muzzles appeared briefly before his target was obscured by a monstrous, white cloud!
Large objects, bigger than musket balls, vroop ed past Tikker’s Nancy, and the plane shuddered when one struck the leading edge of his starboard wing. Instinctively he knew it was time, and he pulled up hard on the lever and back on the control stick almost simultaneously. The weight of two two-hundred-pound incendiary bombs dropping away and the backward pressure on the stick caused his plane to rocket skyward, and it dashed through the bitter coal smoke and rising white smoke of… whatever shot at him. Moving the stick to the left and pushing hard on the left rudder, his plane practically spun on its axis, and he saw the immediate aftermath of his bomb hits. Both had struck, as had at least two other bombs, and black mushrooms roiled above splashes of greasy orange fire. But as he’d feared, he could see no gaping holes beneath them, vomiting flame. He continued his tight bank, hoping for a better look. Maybe they’d gotten some fire through the open ports at the top? No. They must have closed them just as we released, he realized. Still, that may be something… The burning fragments of a Nancy were in the water, disappearing aft of the monster as it churned forward, and Tikker knew he’d lost at least one of his planes and two talented young people. Whether it had been shot down or just crashed into the ship didn’t matter; its crew was doubtless dead, and they hadn’t even hurt the thing! He quickly leveled off and looked around. Another Nancy was off his starboard wing, apparently still trying to match his maneuvers. He sighed with some relief and led his surviving companion back through the black smoke and southward. Only then did he try to gauge the success of his other squadrons.
The attack on the transports had gone well. Fiery columns of gray smoke stood, slanting slightly, against the bright sky. Some of the smaller monster ships were burning as well, a few dead in the water. They were vulnerable, at least. Great, falling fires crept down toward the sea in the distance to join other smoldering, sinking heaps. So. His pursuiters had done good work against the zeppelins too, but… Burning specks lay upon the water here and there, and he knew he’d lost other planes as well. Turning back to see the big monsters again, he saw them all still steaming relentlessly forward, the fires from the bombs already diminishing. One still smoldered, he thought. Maybe some fire did get into that one, but the rest…
“Send to all squadrons: Regroup on me as soon as all ordnance is expended; then fly to Salissa to refuel and rearm. Send to CINCWEST and the Fifth Air Wing: Attack successful against Indiamen and smaller iron ships, but ineffective against larger ones. The enemy has dangerous, close-range antiair capability, so watch out. Suggest concentrate on small boys for now, but enemy heavies may be vulnerable when antiair is in use. Propose a combined assault on them using both the First and Third Wings after the current sorties have rearmed.”
The air attack that swirled above and around General of the Sea Hisashi Kurokawa’s Grand Fleet for the last several days had been… interesting, certainly. But the frustration it caused was threatening to send him into one of the almost incapacitating rages he’d guarded against for so long. There’d been reports of the enemy aircraft for a long time, of course, and Kurokawa had appreciated the threat and even taken precautions, but until the first attacks slashed down on him, he secretly hadn’t expected much. Now he was, frankly, amazed that the Americans and their pet monkeys had put such capable craft-and in such numbers! — into the air.
Kurokawa’s conventional ships-mere transports, as far as he was concerned-built along the age-old East Indiaman lines the Grik had used for centuries, had been savaged during his plodding advance. He’d started with nearly two hundred of them, filled with fifty thousand more of the new Grik he’d been so instrumental in creating. Some had been lost to sea monsters, of course, but more than half had been bombed into sinking torches by the highly effective enemy air. He didn’t really care about dead Grik, regardless how elite, but knew General Esshk would be furious. He finally released the ships after nightfall of the first day to make their own way to the coast. There was no port they could reach before daylight, and trying for one would leave them helpless again beneath the sky, so he’d ordered them to run themselves aground on the closest shore so the troops might survive to report to General Niwa, who Kurokawa knew was in the south.
Kurokawa did care about the loss of many of his towed zeppelins, armed with Muriname’s special bombs, and he’d released them immediately-to make for the concealed aerodromes where Muriname himself had begun hoarding airships after his own arrival two weeks before. Sadly, there had not yet been enough of the special bombs completed for Muriname to bring more than a few at the time, and none had been sent since. Kurokawa had been bringing more himself and there was no way to know how many of the towed zeppelins survived. Hopefully, the enemy had been too focused on destroying the transports to chase fleeing airships, but he had to assume most were destroyed. The “specials” might now lack the punch of numbers he’d hoped for, but maybe there would be enough-and it was still possible he wouldn’t need them.
What annoyed Kurokawa most were the losses of cruisers and battleships his fleet had endured-many before it ever came in contact with the enemy! The capital ships of his invincible fleet, ships that had taken almost two years to build, had dropped like flies before ever firing a shot. He’d been faced with the fact that regardless of how well constructed and mighty his navy was, his engines, all of them, were kuso. They were simply too crude and inefficient for reliable service-and, of course, when the machinery didn’t fail, the Grik engineers did. He had a sprinkling of Japanese engineers in his battleships, but even they were plagued by breakdowns. For once, no suspicion of treachery entered his mind; he felt secure that all his engineers were dedicated to him and the parts of his mission he’d revealed to them, but if the fundamental design of his engines wasn’t at fault, then shoddy, crude construction was to blame.
He’d started with fifty Azuma — class cruisers and a dozen ArataAmagi- class battleships, but he’d lost half his battleships and almost thirty cruisers just getting here! Many of the damaged cruisers would be along eventually or make it home under sail power. His helpless battleships didn’t have that capability, however, and he’d been forced to send operational cruisers to take them under tow. Some would be repaired and would rejoin the fleet, but he smoldered. He’d taken consolation in the fact that he still had twenty-three cruisers and six battleships to destroy the enemy. More than enough, he’d thought.