Chapter 7
Julius
The brief air battle had taken only two minutes, but it felt like a year to Julius. The young centurion had his men standing in battle formation all up and down the exposed decking, creating a shield wall to protect them from the brief exchange of projectiles between the ships.
Junior Centurion Gwendyrn marched along with his commander, and the two had cheered with the destruction of the Nortland vessel just aft of their airship. From his vantage point, Julius had seen the destruction of another vessel in the Nortlanders’ unorganized assault, as well.
“They may have airships, sir, but they can’t seem to figure out how to use them correctly!” Legionnaire Hespinus called out to the centurion.
“Right you are, Legionnaire. Maybe we’ll have to stay here a while and teach them how to fight like real civilized people,” Gwendyrn replied, chuckling heartily.
Hespinus nodded at his officers, and threw out a salute. “Hail Rome!” he shouted, the men to either side echoing him.
“Hail Rome, indeed,” Julius said, giving a crisp salute in return.
A piercing squawk came over the loudspeaker, followed by a voice that Julius recognized. “All hands, this is the captain. Lookouts report another enemy force west of us. I know we just beat off one group, but it appears they need a second lesson. Let’s give it to them: don’t tangle with the Roman Airfleet. For the Emperor and Rome! Alexandros out.”
“Looks like we may have a job to do after all,” Gwendyrn stated quietly. They had pretty much stood around during the first battle, observers whose lives hung in the balance, and now were fast on track for a second one within an hour.
The gradual approach of the fleets was mind-numbingly slow. Julius found himself raising and lowering his binoculars again. And again. And again. Until finally Gwendyrn muttered that he’d put his eyes out if he kept doing it. Feeling slightly sheepish, Julius carefully dropped the binoculars back into his belt pouch.
A brief appearance by Tribune Appius, coming up to check on his cohort, broke the monotony. “How’d it go up here?” he asked, clapping a hand on his centurion’s shoulder. “Not much action for us yet, but I have a feeling we’ll be fighting steel to steel soon enough. At the very least, we’re getting rid of their pirate ships. You can’t rob, rape, and pillage without a way to get there.”
“Maybe they’ll just stick to doing it to each other, sir?” Julius said hesitantly.
Tribune Appius looked surprised. “Why Centurion, I thought you would be full of vim and vigor, ready to crush our northerly neighbors!”
“Of course, sir. I want vengeance. I’m just looking to enact it upon the right people now. Especially for my sister,” Julius said, lips tightening.
Nodding, the tribune lowered his voice. “I know how you’re feeling, Caesar. Remember, those fanatics killed my brother, too. Now I’m stuck with this heir to the throne thing.” He was grim, all the bravado removed from his voice. “But I promise you, Centurion. Your sister’s name will be the last words they hear.”
The blare of the loudspeaker interrupted the tribune. “All hands, battle is imminent. Battle stations. All hands to battle stations. All legionnaires to their stations.”
Julius grabbed at Tribune Appius before he left. “Sir, are you sure you don’t want to take control of the cohort up here on A Deck? You’re our leader and you’ll make the better decisions.” Julius was nervous; he’d never been in charge of a boarding action before.
Appius shook his head. “You’ll do fine, lad. It probably won’t even come to it. Alexandros is too wily to let these barbarians force a boarding action. Just stay sharp. I’m taking charge of the men on B Deck-those replacements need me more than your veterans do. Send a message if there’s trouble. You got that, Centurion Caesar?”
“Yes, sir!”
“May the gods watch over you.” And with that, Julius’s commanding officer left the exposed deck, stepping into the airship proper.
“One would think that he’s afraid of a boarding action,” Gwendyrn whispered to Julius.
“I don’t think we can question his bravery, Sub-Centurion. Nor can we question his decision-making. After all, he left me in charge up here.”
“That’s exactly what I’m questioning,” Gwendyrn said slyly. Julius smacked him on the head.
Airman Souzetio approached, brows dipping in concern at the apparent disrespect between the two officers. “Centurion, get your soldiers into position. The Nortlanders appear to be trying to double up on our airships. There’s more than we thought,” he shouted over the humming of the engines. The tempo of the large propellers had increased and Julius felt the ship move faster under his booted feet.
He nodded and turned to pass on the orders from the briefing earlier. “Check your gear, lads. If you’ve got the grappler, remember to aim for the deck or something that can hold our weight as we cross on those ropes. Everyone else, clear the deck with your repeaters before you cross. Let’s not bring any extra things across. We go in fast, and either capture the ship or set the flares, then get off fast. The flares should do the work for us, but we have to get off before the fire spreads to the Scioparto. I don’t think the captain would like that!” The confidence in his voice sounded false to his ears, but the speech seemed to rally his men.
The enemy airships closed in tighter, from what Julius could tell. The large bulk of the Scioparto’s gasbag and the airship proper blocked his view to his left. Straight ahead, several enemy airships were closing fast on the line of Roman fliers headed straight at them. To Julius’s inexperienced eye, the enemy airships seemed to vary little in design or shape, except that they had two airships that were as big as the Roman flagship. One was bearing down on the left flank of the Roman formation, and the Scioparto.
The flagship began firing, joined by the ships flanking it to either side as the two lines clashed in midair. The rolling line of explosions and the cacophony of battle, soft at first, grew louder and more immediate as the enemy airships closed in, engulfing the formation. Julius counted twelve enemy warships, equaling their number. And those were just the ones he could see.
Below, metal and wood screeched as the ship’s artillery ports opened. Julius and the men of the XIII Germania watched, anticipating the first salvo from the Scioparto with glee. A larger vessel appeared to be sliding toward them, closing the space until it was just parallel to the smaller Scioparto.
Fire, already!
All at once, the artillery on the Roman ship fired, launching a barrage of explosive missiles at the Nortland vessel. This time, the artillery crews fired as fast as possible, joined by the smaller pieces on the exposed deck. Legionnaires tried to shield the exposed aircrews as they fired their lightweight weaponry, large shields covering the men as they reloaded. When the breeze blew away the smoke of war that obscured their damage, Julius’s eyes went wide in surprise and he cried out in alarm.
The enemy vessel was mostly unharmed.
“Why aren’t our weapons doing any damage?” Julius shouted at Souzetio, who was commanding the nearest scorpion team. Souzetio was helping wind the arms of the scorpion back, while another airman carefully placed a rack of heavy bolts into the firing chamber.
“They must be armored! Our explosive-tipped ballistae should be dealing damage, though. Armor plating can’t be tough enough to withstand our weaponry and light enough to fly.” The airman grunted as he heaved the last part of the weapon into position. He moved around to take the controls.
At that moment, the enemy ship-Julius could see the name Hamdar whitewashed onto the hull of the vessel-fired back. The Scioparto rocked from side to side as explosions buffeted the ship.