Alexandros laughed, a big booming sound that echoed off the walls. The crew stopped and looked at him for a moment.
“Our men are too good for a mere shipwreck. Pirates are a much more exciting challenge,” he boasted, conscious of the looks of his men upon him. “I have an idea. Can you push a message through to the airbase at Corinthus?”
The wireless operator nodded hesitantly.
“Well, can you or can’t you?”
“I’ll need more altitude, sir. And perhaps a new machine?” he asked hopefully. Alexandros shook his head.
“Then at least I can probably punch it through to Helos. They should have a more powerful transmitter there,” the cadet opined.
Alexandros nodded.
“Sir, Helos does have a recon skimmer wing.”
“That’s better than nothing. Request their help and see what we get. In the meantime, let’s scour the Gulf of Laconia for the Fila Maria. It must be here somewhere.”
With their request for help received and acknowledged, the airship continued zigzagging back across the route of the previous night. It was slow going for several hours. Although the airship was small, it was still difficult to get close to some of the tiny islands and hamlets without risking an errant wind blowing them off course or dashing them into the limestone cliffs. Their engine became increasingly noisy as the day wore on, the strain of pushing the airship into the wind telling on the temperamental machine.
“Sir, flyer incoming. It appears to be a skimmer.”
“Excellent. Confirm their orders, please.”
Another cadet stepped out of the control room onto the deck. Alexandros watched as he used a lantern-powered searchlight to send messages to the flyer. In response, the skimmer’s pilot sent back a stream of flashing light messages.
The cadet jotted down notes as he carefully recorded the skimmer’s reply. The skimmer waggled its wings as it swept around the larger airship before taking position directly before its bow.
“Sir!” the cadet called out, handing him the transcribed message.
Do I have to read everything here? Or have we had the secrecy training drilled so far into our heads we’re afraid to communicate a simple message? Alexandros grumbled to himself as he grabbed the message and read it. Then blinked several times as he read it again.
“You’re sure?” he asked the cadet.
“I doubled checked the message twice, sir, just like you taught us!”
By the gods… he’s found it!
“Sir?” Ionia inquired.
“Follow that skimmer! Looks like he’s already done our work for us.” The bridge crew cheered. “Let’s go get our missing sheep.”
With the small, dragonfly shape of the skimmer leading the way, the Arcus followed in its wake like a bulldog following a small child.
An hour or so later, the Arcus floated majestically above a half-moon island. Part of a sailing vessel peeked out from underneath a rock overhang. The flitting skimmer had gone in for closer observation.
“I can’t see any way to retake the ship without dropping part of our crew down there,” Ionia stated glumly.
“Afraid of a few pirates?”
“We don’t know how many there are, sir. It would probably be better to call in the Lorica and get her heavy weapons and crew here for support. Plus, I doubt we’re really prepared for any land engagement.”
Alexandros sat back in his command chair, chin on his fist, contemplating.
The door banged open. A crewman barged in.
“Sir! The skimmer is under attack! Someone on the island is shooting at them!”
Alexandros ran to the door, pushing his way past the surprised cadet. He made it to the railing just in time. The skimmer was flying erratically, tiny wisps of smoke escaping from its immobile right wing. It spun, rotating dizzyingly until it crashed into the rocky surface of the island’s eastern peninsula.
“Damnit! Can you tell if the pilot survived?” he asked Ionia, who had thoughtfully carried out the spyglass and had it pressed to his eye.
“Yes, sir. It looks like the pilot is clambering out of the wreckage. He looks okay from here.” He scanned around. “Uh, sir, there are men moving towards the crash site. They are armed.”
Alexandros hesitated a moment, but then made his decision. “First Officer Ionia, contact the Lorica and request support. We’ll need it once our men secure a foothold on the island.”
“Sir,” Ionia interrupted. “The Lorica is probably a day’s sailing away at least. They probably wouldn’t leave the convoy to begin with. That is not a wise plan. We’d risk the entire ship for the life of one person.”
Alexandros felt his plan beginning to crumble. “Well then, First Officer, find me someone, anyone, able to assist. There must be some imperial assets in this area. Find them now.” He put every ounce of authority into his words, and Ionia snapped to attention.
“Yes, sir!” he practically shouted.
Alexandros shoved his hands into his pockets to hide how hard they were shaking. “And assemble the boarding parties. They should be ready for combat in ten minutes.”
As the cadets scrambled to complete their tasks, Alexandros excused himself to his cabin. He clambered belowdecks, moving about in the lantern-lit gloom of the passageways. Once inside his cabin, the cadet could feel his hands still shaking.
“I can do this,” he said to no one in particular.
He opened his trunk and pulled out his own set of armor. The aircrew armor consisted of a light brigandine chest piece attached to a leather shirt that covered his arms and torso. Metal disks were sewn onto the back to provide additional protection. He dug his helmet out of his trunk as well, its metal dome flaring out in the back to protect his neck, while the twin cheek guard portions rested on the sides of his face. As an officer, he attached the traditional crimson horsehair plume to the helmet before placing it onto his head.
From his weapons rack in the corner he grabbed his scutum, the traditional shield of the Roman legions. Adapted for use on air and naval ships, this scutum was much smaller, being more of an oval buckler than a large shield. His gear prepared, he checked to ensure his sword was still on his belt. His fingers gripped the hilt of the gladius, the short stabbing sword unchanged after a millennia of use and perfectly suited to the close confines of boarding combat.
He met his men back on the main deck, the wind whipping at their cloaks and tunics. The warmth of the day provided little respite from the wind, which blew constantly at even their low altitude.
“Are you ready, sir?”
“Yes, indeed, Cadet Officer Porux. You’ll take the second wave, I’ll take the first. You secure the landing site. We will secure the downed pilot and return him to the airship. Keep a sharp eye out. No telling what these pirates or traitors have.”
“Absolutely, sir. We’ve got your back.” Porux also had a crescent plume on his helmet to designate him as a unit leader. He turned and began supervising the assemblage of various light artillery pieces along the railings facing the island.
At least I’ve got one subordinate who I can trust here. A week ago, that would have taken them half an hour just to unpack the darn things.
The airship descended. Alexandros couldn’t help himself as he peered over the side like the barely graduated schoolboy that he was. The ground moved closer and closer, and Alexandros could make out distinct rocks, plants, and a few small structures on the island. He spotted the wreckage of the skimmer to the north and east of their position.
The airship was descending toward the largest flat area that was available on the island. Crewmen on either side of the bridge craned their heads over the side of the ship, signaling the pilot with flags. Deftly, the pilot positioned the airship perfectly onto the rocky ground. Wincing with anticipation, Alexandros imagined the airship crushing into the ground and buckling from the inside out. With a crunch, the wooden hull of the Arcus touched down, leaving Alexandros pleasantly surprised. I must be so used to things going wrong that it’s a shock when they go right.