“Those aren’t regular fighters,” she said, drawing more of Dexter’s attention. “They’re fireflies.”
Dexter blinked, the name having no meaning to him.
Annoyed, Jenna persisted. “The elves load fighters full of oil, fire powder, and alchemist’s fire then crash them into the hulls of enemy ships!”
Dexter’s eyes widened. He swore and turned back to the window. Sure enough, the fighters, or fireflies as Jenna had called this version, seemed interested in getting close to them, rather than in firing their light ballistae at them.
“Bekka! Evasive action, don’t let them ram us!” Dexter demanded, then brushed past Jenna as he ran out of the bridge and up the staircase to the deck.
“They mean to ram us!” Dexter yelled on the deck. “Fire everything you’ve got at those fighters!”
He led by example, raising his pistol to the closest one and firing. The inertia in the void helped his shot stay true, though the great distance to it gave the pilot plenty of time to dodge had he been able to see the small bullet. Within moments other shot from the wheel lock pistols of the crew were chewing into the ship. The ones that hit the hull did little damage, though an occasional ball would strike one of the barrels of oil that was roped against the small deck, while many others chewed through the sails of the small elven craft.
In a matter of a minute or less the pilot began to realize he needed to try and doge the small shot that was scouring his fighter. Every turn of his sails, however, caused more of them to rend and tear thanks to the growing number of holes in them. Shortly his maneuverability began to worsen. His speed remained unchanged, thanks to the power of the tactical helm that provided movement for the small ship, but his ability to steer it suffered.
The other fighter drew closer unmolested until the crew realized that it posed just as great a threat. The scout ship remained in the background, closing as well but at a slower rate. Jenna fired on it, while Rosh, Keshira, and Jodyne tended to the rigging to assist Bekka with the maneuvering of the ship. Thus far they continued to run straight out, lengthening the pursuit and giving the deckhands time to add their fire.
Jenna’s fourth shot deflected off of a barrel of oil, cracking it and causing some to leak onto the decking. The leaking oil was not the success of the shot, however. Instead it was the deflected bullet that chewed into the leg of the ship’s helmsman that spoke of the success. The second elven firefly listed in space and changed course for well over a full minute, taking it on a path that sent it out and away from the Voidhawk. It swung back around to face them and began once again closing the distance.
The first fighter was approached dangerously close, giving up any pretense of maneuverability and aiming straight for the Voidhawk’s hull. Jenna switched back over, concentrating all their firepower on the scarred ship. The ship’s pilot made a sudden dash from the partially concealed helm he sat in, leaping off over the edge of the ship and, miraculously, escaping injury from any of the pistols firing at him.
“Bekka!” Dexter yelled down the stairway to the bridge. “Drop us down!”
He turned to the others and shouted, “Roll the ship!”
Dexter jumped to the sails, grabbing the closest one to aid in the maneuver. The others abandoned the pistols and followed suit, understanding the peril the Voidhawk faced. The ship pivoted along its axis, descending as it did so while the fighter rushed onwards towards them. They lost sight of it as the starboard side rose and blocked their view of it, then peered anxiously to the port while they continued to roll.
They all felt the ship shudder and heard the creaking of timber when the firefly bumped into the bottom of the Voidhawk’s hull. Without exception, every one of them cringed and feared the worse, but no ensuing sounds of fire powder igniting followed. Instead they continued to roll and the bow continued to drop, or rise, now that the ship was inverted.
Dexter glanced up away from the sails and saw that they were now bearing towards the scout ship, they had managed to change their course by 180 degrees. He cursed and yelled for his crew to stabilize the ship and get their bearings.
“Where’s the other fighter?” Dexter called out, seeing the derelict ship that had rammed them floating in a straight line out of their air bubble and trailing some small debris made up of broken timber.
“Captain!” Keshira called out cheerily. Dexter glanced at her, distracted even then in the heat of battle by the simple sensuality in that one word when spoken by her in excitement. He followed her arm and saw her pointing low over the port side of the ship.
Dexter rushed over, seeing the other fighter approaching and the pilot of it tying off the sails while he limped about and made ready to abandon the ship. Dexter grabbed his pistol and rushed to fill it with powder. He rammed the wadding and then a lead ball down the barrel in what might have been record time for him. The hammer cocked, he took careful aim and waited while the elven pilot scrambled about near the helm. He emerged a moment later, limping heavily, and carrying a crate in both arms cradled to his chest. Dexter fired, already moving to reload his pistol as fast as he could.
“Captain!”
Dexter ignored Rosh’s concerned voice behind him as he struggled to ready his pistol in case the first shot missed. He did spare a glance at the fighter, and watched with growing satisfaction. The crate the pilot carried hit the deck and erupted, spewing alchemist’s fire onto the pilot, the deck of the ship and even the sails and rigging.
“What, Rosh?” Dexter said, turning back to face him. He glanced up and felt his eyes widen. The scout ship seemed close enough to spit at. It was only a few hundred yards away from them, nearly in their atmospheric bubble.
“Bring her around!” Dexter yelled, hurrying back to the sail he had manned to assist.
Halfway through the maneuver the scout ship had also changed its pitch so that the heavy ballista on its hunched back weapon deck had been brought to bear on them. It fired, the heavy wooden spear leaping out at them and trailing a rope behind it. The heavy bolt thudded into the hull of the ship just below the railing, sending a shudder throughout the vessel and making Dexter and Kragor both cringe at the sound of good timber being sundered.
The heavy rope stayed loose, however, but the scout ship quickly closed and the atmospheres from the two ships joined. Rosh drew his sword and ran towards the rope, only to have Kragor yell for him to get back to his station at the main mast.
Dexter nodded, cutting the rope would do no good, the scout ship was faster and more maneuverable, it was better to be boarded early on than to let it take more shots at them with its ballista. “Prepare for boarding!” Dexter yelled, finishing up the job of reloading his pistol and then holstering it.
Dexter’s only source for hope or pride at the moment was the flaming elven fighter that was sailing through space away from them. Soundlessly, thanks to the void between ships, he watched it shudder and break apart as one after another of the kegs of powder aboard it ignited and exploded.
Three more lines sailed through space and landed on the Voidhawk, a grappling hook attached to the end of each. Two of them caught fast while the third pulled free of the deck. Two of them, plus the ballista bolt impaling the ‘Hawk amidships, were more than enough to cinch the two vessels together. In minutes that passed like seconds, elves were leaping from the elevated position of the scout ship’s hull and down onto the Voidhawk, swords and pistols drawn.
The crew of the Voidhawk met them. Jodyne’s daggers flew true, striking elves before they closed, while other fired pistols or swung their weapons. A smaller ship by nearly half the tonnage, the scout ship nevertheless carried a superior number of crew to the ‘Hawk’s seven, of which only six were actively defending the ship.