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The city hove into view. He saw the remaining enemy vessels gleam above it. Three against one . . .
yes, this would become a legend among the Sea People, if it succeeded. Ruori knew he should have felt
the same reckless pleasure as a man did surfbathing, or shark fighting, or sailing in a typhoon, any
breakneck sport where success meant glory and girls. He could hear his men chant outside, beat
war-drum rhythms out with hands and stamping feet. But his own heart was Antarctic.
The nearest hostile craft approached. Ruori tried to meet it in a professional way. He had attired his
prize crew in captured Sky outfits. A superficial glance would take them for legitimate Canyonites,
depleted after a hard fight but with the captured Maurai ship at their heels.
As the northerners steered close in the leisurely airship fashion, Ruori picked up his speaking tube.
"Steady as she goes. Fire when we pass abeam."
"Aye, aye," said Hiti.
A minute later the captain heard the harpoon catapult rumble. Through a port he saw the missile
strike the other gondola amidships. "Pay out line," he said. "We want to hold her for the kite, but not get
burned ourselves."
"Aye, I've played swordfish before now." Laughter bubbled in Hiti's tones.
The foe sheered, frantic. A few bolts leaped from its catapults; one struck home, but a single
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punctured gas cell made small difference. "Put about!" cried Ruori. No sense in presenting his beam to a
broadside. Both craft began to drift downwind, sails flapping. "Hard a-lee!" The Buffalo became a
drogue, holding its victim to a crawl. And here came the kite prepared on the way back. This time it
included fish hooks. It caught and held fairly on the Canyonite bag. "Cast off!" yelled Ruori. Fire whirled
up the kite string. In minutes it had enveloped the enemy. A few parachutes were blown out to sea.
"Two to go," said Ruori, without any of his men's shouted triumph.
The invaders were no fools. Their other blimps turned back over the city, not wishing to expose
themselves to more flame from the water. One descended, threw out hawsers, and was rapidly hauled to
the plaza. Through his binoculars, Ruori saw armed men swarm aboard it. The other, doubtless with a
mere patrol crew, maneuvered toward the approaching Buffalo.
"I think that fellow wants to engage us," warned Hiti. "Meanwhile Number Two down there will take
on a couple of hundred soldiers, then lay alongside us and board."
"I know," said Ruori. "Let's oblige them."
He steered as if to close with the sparsely manned patroller. It did not avoid him, as he had feared it
might; but then, there was a compulsive bravery in the Sky culture. Instead, it maneuvered to grapple as
quickly as possible. That would give its companion a chance to load warriors and rise- It came very near.
Now to throw a scare in them, Ruori decided. "Fire arrows," he said. Out on deck, hardwood
pistons were shoved into little cylinders, igniting tinder at the bottom; thus oil-soaked shafts were kindled.
As the enemy came in range, red comets began to streak from the Buffalo archers.
Had his scheme not worked, Ruori would have turned off. He didn't want to sacrifice more men in
hand-to-hand fighting; instead, he would have tried seriously to burif the other airship from afar, though
his strategy needed it. But the morale effect of the previous disaster was very much present. As blazing
arrows thunked into their gondola, a battle tactic so two-edged that no northern crew was even equipped
for it, the Canyonites panicked and went over the side. Perhaps, as they parachuted down, a few noticed
that no shafts had been aimed at their gas bag.
"Grab fast!" sang Ruori. "Douse any fires!"
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Grapnels thumped home. The blimps rocked to a relative halt. Men leaped to the other gallery;
bucketsful of water splashed.
"Stand by," said Ruori. "Half our boys on the prize. Break out the lifelines and make them fast."
He put down the tube. A door squeaked behind him. He turned, as Tresa re-entered the bridge. She
was still pale, but she had somehow combed her hair, and her head was high.
"Another!" she said with a note near joy. "Only one of them left!"
"But it will be full of their men." Ruori scowled. "I wish now I had not accepted your refusal to go
aboard the Dolphin. I wasn't thinking clearly. This is too hazardous."
"Do you think I care for that?" she said. "I am a Carabán."
"But I care," he said.
The haughtiness dropped from her; she touched his hand, fleetingly, and color rose in her cheeks.
"Forgive me. You have done so much for us. There is no way we can ever thank you."
"Yes, there is," said Ruori.
"Name it."
"Do not stop your heart just because it has been wounded."
She looked at him with a kind of sunrise in her eyes.
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His boatswain appeared at the outer door. "All set, captain. We're holding steady at a thousand feet,
with a man standing by every valve these two crates have got."
"Each has been assigned a particular escape line?"
"Aye," The boatswain departed.
"You'll need one too. Come." Ruori took Tresa by the hand and led her onto the gallery. They saw
sky around them, a breeze touched their faces and the deck underfoot moved like a live thing. He
indicated one of many light cords from the Dolphin's store, bowlined to the rail. "We aren't going to risk
parachuting with untrained men," he said. "But you've no experience in skinning down one of these. I'll
make you a harness which will hold you safely. Ease yourself down hand over hand. When you reach the
ground, cut loose." His knife slashed some pieces of rope and he knotted them together with a seaman's
skill. When he fitted the harness on her, she grew tense under his fingers.
"But I am your friend," he murmured.
She eased. She even smiled, shakenly. He gave her his knife and went back inboard.
And now the last pirate vessel stood up from the earth. It moved near; Ruori's two craft made no
attempt to flee. He saw sunlight flash on edged metal. He knew they had witnessed the end of their
companion craft and would not be daunted by the same technique; rather, they would close in, even with
their ship burning about them-if nothing else, they could killed him in turn and then parachute to safety. He
did not send arrows.
When only a few fathoms separated him from the enemy, he cried: "Let go the valves!"
Gas whoofed from both bags. The linked blimps dropped.
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"Fire!" shouted Ruori. Hiti aimed his catapult up and sent a harpoon with anchor cable through the
bottom of the attacker. "Burn and abandon!"
Men on deck touched off oil which other men splashed from jars. Flames sprang up.
With the weight of two nearly deflated vessels dragging it from below, the Canyon ship began to fall.
At five hundred feet the tossed lifelines draped across flat rooftops and trailed in the streets. Ruori went
over the side. He scorched his palms going down.
He was not much too quick. The harpooned blimp ordered compressed hydrogen released; the
vessel rose to a thousand feet with its burden, seeking sky room. Presumably no one had yet seen that
the burden was on fire. In no case would lhey find it easy to shake or cut loose from one of Hiti's irons.
Ruori stared upward. Fanned by the wind, the flames were smokeless, a small fierce sun. He had not
counted on his fire taking the enemy by total surprise. He had assumed they would parachute to earth,
where the Meycans could attack. Almost, he wanted to warn them.
Then flame reached the remaining hydrogen in the collapsed gas bags. There was a sort of giant gasp. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]