The Graveyard of Empires - Chapter 9

Chapter 9

A Cornucopia of Inveterate Blackguards

Blackburn was a long way from comfortable flying this continent-sized warship, but he did his best to look like he knew what he was doing. There was a mile of difference between flying a ship by the seat of your pants with both hands on the wheel and an eye on the horizon, and commanding abridge crew to do everything for you. It was like steering a building with gloves on - a big building.

Still, they were over the sea, and there was nothing to run into up this high. They skated well above the clouds, the view spectacular from the bridge windows, or the observation deck. Most of the time he didn't have to do anything, he just ordered the helmsman to hold such-and-so course and they would do it. He knew the look of outlaws, and the crew was almost entirely low-life scum of one kind or another. That was something he expected, but there were a lot of them. It was daunting to go to sleep with so many criminals in close proximity.

They flew up the coast of the Baja, and the weather held, so they made good time. He learned the power and the potential speed of the ship. Slow to turn, but inexorable once she started. Slow to build speed but with terrifying velocity once she got going. The ship was a beast, a true hazard in the sky. She mounted far too many guns, and her heavy armor was daunting to look at as you passed through the bulkheads. He'd never seen anything this big, and he had to wonder what the catch was. Nothing this massive could fly without some kind of flaw or weakness.

He came onto the bridge and Lady Sterling was there, still looking like a bandit's dream and smirking at the helmsman. She looked up as he came in. "Ah, Captain," she said, always with a twist to make it seem she might be mocking him - even with a dick in her ass she was mocking. "Just in time. Can you have the helm come to one-quarter speed?"

"I can, why should I?" he enjoyed making no bones about not trusting her. It slid off her like oil.

"Because your other ships are coming to meet us, and I would like to convene the captains here so you can meet them, before you go into battle." She tipped her silly hat back on her head - it looked like it came from a Spanish dandy.

"Other captains? I thought I was your one and only?" he said.

"Takes more than one to take the edge off me, you should know that by now," she said.

"Don't tempt me," he said. "I have a crew full of bastards who'd be glad to take the edge off you given half a chance."

"If you think any of them would survive me, feel free to invite them," she said. She tapped the speed gauge beside the helmsman, who looked at him questioningly.

"Fine. Make turns for one-quarter," he said. He looked at Victoria. "None of these other captains had better be prettier than I am."

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The other ships came out of the clouds lower down, and he watched as they gathered in. There were a dozen of them, all different kinds, though they all looked military. He recognized a Chinese model, several from Brazil, and one from Germany - a big, heavy thing with dark gray plating on the hull and a prow like an emperor's chin. He cut speed until they were just keeping steerage, and then the other ships drew along and docked.

He left the greetings to Lady Sterling, went back to his big, lavish cabin and put on his black coat and belted on a sword and a brace of knives. He holstered a big colt on his belt, tipped it forward a bit so the light caught on the brass backstrap. He wanted to make sure it got noticed. Then he ran his fingers through his hair, scratched his chin, and went forward to the big sitting room. He was still not used to having this much space on an airship, and even having a sitting room was strange.

The room was huge, with a low ceiling and a rich layer of Persian carpet - or what was supposed to look like it. Everything was rich polished wood and leather and brass accents. He took the best chair and sat down, then Zheng came in and leaned against the wall behind him and to the side. Zheng was not bothering to dress fancy, just a black shirt open to the waist and five pistols holstered around him like stolen kittens. Zheng didn't favor knives, he preferred to keep people at a remove.

"This whole setup stinks worse than your ass," he said by way of greeting.

Blackburn snorted. "Well, we're not going to conquer California with just one ship, are we? Not even this monster."

"I still say we take it and go. Head south and take some big prize. Lima, maybe. Or Cartagena." Zheng looked at the shelves of books behind him and sneered, as if scoffing at literature in general.

"San Francisco is a pretty big prize," Blackburn said.

"I'd prefer one that smirking she-bitch hasn't planned for," Zheng said.

"Now. Just because we know it's a trap doesn't mean it won't be fun to stick our dicks in it." Blackburn heard voices in the corridor. "Now shut up and look fierce."

The doors opened and Victoria stepped in, looking pleased with herself. Behind her came a trio of people, and each of them were distinct in their own ways. The first one through was a woman, and she caught Blackburn's eye most strongly. She was tall and olive-skinned, with a fleshy build and wide shoulders. She had straight dark-blonde hair and a heavy, sensual face. Her mouth was voluptuous and cruel at the same time. She tossed her hat on the couch and looked around dismissively, as if she were too good to be here.

"Captain Anias Hellebore," Sterling said. "Originally from Corsica, but now a corsair of the vanishing French empire."

The second was a tall, dark-skinned man with a thin, wolfish face and hard, cold eyes. He had the heavy features and long nose of a South American, and he wore all black, like an undertaker or gravedigger. He had no hat and no sword, only a pair of ivory-handled pistols. He looked at Blackburn and sneered, but that seemed to be his normal expression, so he decided not to take offense just yet.

"Captain Vittorio, outlaw of the Andes, scourge of the South American skies." She tipped her hat and he sneered at her too.

The third man moved slowly into the light of the room. He limped, and there was a low hiss of steam as he walked. Blackburn saw he moved with an artificial leg and had a hand and what could be most of an arm that was all brass and steel. Half his face was covered with a mask to hide burn scars that peeped out from the edges. He lad a lean, saturnine look, and his stare was venomous.

"Captain Mordel Black," she said. "Esquire."

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"This? I am meant to follow this dog into war?" Captain Hellebore pointed at Blackburn and sneered. He had to admit she had a good one. "Look at him? He looks like a metis bred from a donkey."

Blackburn leaned back and smiled. "Well, I admit I do look a bit like a donkey. From the right angle." He grinned at her, then ran out his tongue and waggled it. "You want a look?"

"Don't tempt me, negre," she said, still sneering. Her expression was so disdainful he started to find it erotic. "I could split you like a froussard before you can blink your eyes."

He came up out of the chair and went nose to nose with her. "So if you're going to do it, get on and stop blowing your cock-trap at me."

He saw her eyes flare and then Victoria was there, pushing them both back. "Enough foolishness. You all signed onto this venture. Do not forget who supplied you to get you here."

Hellebore subsided with a surly glare, while both Vittorio and Black stood with arms folded, disdaining a seat. They both looked him up and down, and the slight curl of Vittorio's lip told him the man's opinion was not high.

Blackburn snorted. He glanced at Zheng and then turned back to his audience. Lady Sterling started to speak but he put his finger to her lips. "I see none of you know me. I'm Captain Lancelot Blackburn. Like Black, but a little darker, I suppose." He looked at the metal-plated Captain Black and smirked. "I was a sailor in the British Air Navy in the Arrow War, and I earned my stripes in Shanghai and Tianjin. I've been a privateer and a corsair up and down the coasts of China, Japan, the Philippines, and down to Siam. I've sent more ships down in flames than I can count, and killed more men with my hands than the three of you put together."

Only Hellebore laughed at this, but Vittorio looked like maybe he wanted to. With half his face covered, Black was hard to get a read on, but Blackburn wasn't too concerned about him. Hellebore was the one who would be trouble. She was going to push, and the other two would take their cue from how he handled that.

"Now I will wager I was chosen for this because of a few things," he said. He paced a little, unbuckled his belt and pulled it off, sword and pistol hanging heavy. "Thing one: I've had actual experience conducting a military operation against a grounded enemy as well as airships. Thing two: I have had actual success commanding airships in battle besides just the one I was on." He tossed the belt onto the chair. "Thing three: I'm not a tit-sucking baby who can't keep her mouth shut when her betters are talking." He hooked his thumbs in his pants and glared at Captain Hellebore.

She hissed and clapped her hand to her sword-hilt. He didn't move. "You're going to wish you'd kept your sword if you keep running your mouth like that, enfoire," she said through clenched teeth.

"No need to carry a sword to get the bulge on a bit like you," he said.

Her eyes turned dark and her blade sang out. It was beautiful to see, and she lunged like fire in a flash of lightning. He just leaned a little right so her point went through his lung and not his heart. The point came out his back and blood welled around the steel. She laughed, spat on his cheek, and jerked her blade free.

He waited for a moment, held up a finger, and coughed slightly. She stood there and he had the wonderful time to savor how her expression went from smug to puzzled to confused and then into afraid. He put a finger in the hole in his shirt and scratched at the place where the wound had been, brought it out with just a little blood on it. He held it up and waggled it at her. "You know this was a new shirt?"

She looked at the blood on her sword as if to reassure herself it was there and he moved as soon as her eyes were off him. He caught her by the shirt and the neck and hauled her in almost off her feet. Her sword dropped to the rug and he grabbed her jaw, squeezed until her mouth opened, and then he wiped her spittle off his cheek and then he wiped it on her tongue.

"Now, generally I think better of lady captains," he said, as if they were discussing the weather. "I've known some good ones, and they all had to work hard to get respect. That's why it makes me angry to see you strutting around, mouthing off to someone you don't know anything about." He rubbed his finger on her tongue. "So are we going to get on and steal California, or are you going to try something else stupid?"

In answer she bit his finger. Not hard, but it lingered, and he let her go. She was a little flushed, and the way she looked at him now was quite different. He almost rolled his eyes. Some pirates. She picked up her sword and cleaned it as she backed up, her hands shaking.

"Now you could go on arguing with me about this," he said to the other two. "You could try shooting me, or stabbing me, just to see what happens. Well, I can tell you I won't die. You can't kill me that way, but it does hurt, so I would not be well-disposed toward you. So shall we cut out the shit? There are reasons Princess Sterling here chose me for this job, and one of them is that I am a little bit harder to get rid of than most pirates. If you want to test it, wait until after we have a mountain of gold to lie on while we do it."

Sterling had spread out a map on the nearby table, and she pointed to it as they came to look. "The only real danger you have to face in the entire state of California is here, the garrison at Fort Alcatraz in the San Francisco bay. The fort mounts eighty-five guns, but most of them are old field pieces from before the war, not modern artillery. They won't be able to reach you in the sky unless you fly very low. Also, the fort is only manned by two hundred soldiers, so they cannot man all the guns at once, assuming every man is on duty, which they rarely are."

She chewed her lip. "The real danger is the air squadron that protects the city. There are twenty ships on duty, even if most of them are antiques and a few are even converted cargo or civilian transports the navy commandeered during the war. There are at least six modern gunships moored here, and they will be a danger."

"How many ships do we mount, all together?" Blackburn asked.

"Only eight, but with the superior firepower of the Avenger it should more than make up for that," she said. "As well, not all the squadron ships will be in port at one time. Many of them routinely patrol up and down the coast in search of pirates."

Blackburn chuckled at that. "Well, they'll get an eyeful this time." He looked at the map. "All right, pay attention. I'm going to work out the best way to attack this pimple of a fort, and you are all going to listen carefully."

Continued in Chapter 10

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