They charged without pause. A hail of grappling hooks and scaling ladders hit the sides of the stalled raft. Soon Ethan was swinging his sword with the same lack of expertise but determination he had displayed on the walls of Wannome.
September ran one warrior through the chest, pulled his ax free, and yelled instructions to the tran at the miniature catapults. There was a simultaneous release of celluloid tension. Four small smoking bundles arched out over the ice. A shower of glass and iron shrapnel and blinding powder exploded in the middle ranks of the attackers.
Bleeding and torn, they fell to the ice. But their companions didn’t falter. Again the catapults fired and more nomads were knocked unmoving or moaning to the frozen sea.
“It doesn’t frighten them anymore!” Ethan shouted over the confusion.
Several times it seemed certain the barbarians would swarm onto the deck and overwhelm them. Several times the archers and spearmen were forced back from the rail or cut down. Only the constant rain of crossbow bolts from the tran in the masts closed off the breakthroughs, sealed the temporary gaps.
The battle continued all day, the tran and men on the ship fighting off wave after wave of attackers. Only when the ice had begun to devour the sun did they at last give up and retreat.
Not caring who noticed, Ethan sank exhausted to the deck. His sword clattered beside him.
Hunnar headed forward, no doubt to confer with Balavere and compare losses. The general had taken a bad arrow wound in the shoulder but had remained on deck throughout the fight.
September looked subdued and worried as he wiped his broadax.
“No miracles impending here, lad. Unless Williams can turn these sails into posigrav repellers. Shame I don’t believe in magic. To have come this far, have worked this hard… only to end up hamburger in the hands of a bunch of washed-up primitive alien bandits like these…” He shook his head, the great nose dipping and bobbing, and surveyed the corpse-laden deck. “Looks like we’ve lost at least half our complement. I think we’ll have to press a sword on du Kane, and his daughter, too.”
“How badly did we hurt them?” asked Ethan tiredly.
“Bad, young feller, bad. But not nearly bad enough. Tomorrow they’ll be all over us. If they should decide to break down that unrepaired runner or to fire the ship…”
“I’d have thought they’d have tried that already. Wonder why they haven’t?”
“Why, lad, this raft’s the fastest thing short of an air-car on this planet. I’d think she’d want it in one piece, this Sagyanak, if she can get it.” He paused, staring into the distance. “Ah, take a look.”
Ethan scrambled painfully to his feet. A ring of nomads, half of the surviving force, were drawn up in a broad circle around the Slanderscree. The rest were returning to the rafts. Archers at the ready rested near the bow, just out of range of crossbow.
“They’ve seen the busted runner,” said September. “And they’re not about to let us fix it, not by the Horse’s Head, what? Any work party we put over the side will get cut to pieces. Somehow we’re going to have to get that thing fixed so’s we can make a break tomorrow. No way we can stand off another all-day assault. We’re almost out of our pacific schoolmaster’s bombs, too.”
It was a grim group that gathered in the captain’s cabin that night.
“There it stands, sirs,” concluded Hunnar. He’d just repeated, with embellishments, what he’d told Ethan earlier. “As is apparent, our chances of repulsing the vermin’s next attack is, realistically speaking, very low. We have few thunder-packages left, few crossbow bolts, and far too few men. When the bombs and bolts run out, they will have us. We must try to break away. Yet we cannot get a crew safely outside to repair the runner.”
“The starboard runner is completely repaired and repositioned,” added Suaxus-dal-Jagger. “I would say that the other would collapse the moment any pressure is put on it. Truly, we cannot move unless it is fixed.”
The raft’s plan was laid out on the table in front of them. Now Ta-hoding, who’d been listening quietly while studying the schematic, spoke up.
“There is one thing that might be tried, sirs.”
“At this point all suggestions are welcome ones, captain,” said Balavere, holding his shoulder.
Ta-hoding leaned forward and ran a finger over the diagram. “We might chop through the flooring around the central runner brace here, and here. Our craftsmen could then work safely from within the raft. Possibly even part way outside, for the enemy will surely be looking only for men trying to slip over the side.”
“Can the runner be fixed from inside?” asked Ethan.
He was disappointed at Ta-hoding’s negative gesture. The captain continued. “Not very well, nor permanently, no. There is no way to perform the necessary final metalwork. But a temporary hold might be fastened through the bolt-holes with double-thick cable, which could then be lashed and tightened around the interior bracing.”
“Sounds not firm,” mused Balavere. “Would it hold at all?”
Ta-hoding made the tran equivalent of a shrug with his eyes.
“There is no way to predict, noble sir. Such an arrangement could hold fast for days. Or it could snap, as the squire says, the moment pressure is put to it.”
“I’m placing this in your hands, captain. Do you think it will hold?”
Ta-hoding hedged, obviously not fond of being put on the spot. Finally, “I would think for a morning, certainly. The cable should be strong enough to handle that much friction, if it is made very tight and does not work loose too quickly. Yes, I would stake my life, it will hold for a morning-time. I will stake my life to it.”
“A safe wager, captain,” said Hunnar. “If you are wrong there will be none of us about to collect. Can this be made ready by morning?”
“Not if we sit here jabbering all night,” broke in Balavere excitedly. “Captain, see to your men and to your repairs. And mind they proceed quietly. We have no wish to arouse the animals’ curiosity.”
Ta-hoding nodded and departed at as close to a run as Ethan had ever seen him use, the schematic of the ship held tightly in his paws.
“Then sirs, if that is all there is to be decided upon…”
“Your pardon, General, but that is not all,” said September. “Let’s say we make the repair secretly and in time. Let’s say further that this jury-rigged setup of the captain’s actually holds together. We pull free of that meat-mountain and start running into the wind. I assume we can make better time into the wind than they?”
“No question of it,” said Balavere.
“All right then, we show them our fundament and laugh ourselves silly as they disappear astern. What’s to prevent them from following doggedly in our tracks… this thing does leave tracks… and catching up with us as soon as that temporary hitch does fail?”
Balavere thought, hesitated. “We must take that chance. Likely we can lose them. Or, not knowing the precariousness of our situation, they may believe we are beyond overtaking.”
“And they may not,” September countered. He looked around the table. This awkward thought which the big man had raised refused to run away and hide. It demanded an answer, and no one had any.
“I beg your pardon, noble sirs,” said Eer-Meesach from the quiet end of the table. “I am not often involved in matters military, I know, and would prefer to shun this one. But I have had a thought. We may have other allies in this.”
“Don’t talk in riddles, wise one,” admonished Balavere. “I am too tired for games, and my shoulder hurts.”