Day of Honor 01_ Ancient Blood - Diane Carey [26]
“What would that do?”
“Improves range and accuracy. But I don’t believe they have that—well, they might.”
“Mmm,” Alexander uttered. “Phasers are better.”
“Yes, but with every invention comes a countermeasure. With bullets came kevlar vests. With phasers, we came up with shields. Every age has its challenges.”
“Fire as you bear starboard, Mr. Pennington,” the deep voice from aft filtered on the wind, and with a sudden flicker of awareness Picard realized he was hearing the captain’s voice. Captain Sobel was his name, wasn’t it?
Pennington, the officer at amidships, ordered, “Starboard guns as you bear … fire!”
The ship was still moving, coming slowly around until most of her guns could focus on the Chincoteague, but, given the curved shape of the ship’s side, not all the guns could aim at the same time. There were four … yes, four cannons on each side of the main deck. How many were below, on the gun deck? Ten? That would make this ship an eighteen-gunner.
“Formidable,” Picard muttered. He looked across the glinting water at the other ship. Chincoteague, as he now counted her gunports, seemed to have about half that, with only guns on the main deck. But she was more maneuverable and quicker, turning brilliantly out there on hardly a puffing breeze.
If her gunners were more skilled, or just more determined, or more desperate—
FFFFOOOM! The deck beneath him shuddered bodily with the paralyzing report of bow and midship cannons. A few seconds later, as Justina jolted on a swell, the midship to aft cannons pounded the sea’s surface. Guntrucks thundered on the deck planks as the cannons jolted backward with the power of their own percussion, to be yanked to awkward halts by strong retaining ropes. Amazing—the cannons probably weighed fifteen hundred or two thousand pounds each.
Any standard-issue hand phaser was a million times more deadly, but somehow at this moment Picard couldn’t muster any more respect for that delicate weapon than for these monoliths, which took such cooperation to make, board, and use.
Puffs of smoke and fire appeared on Chincoleague’s black side. Impact tremors disturbed the swells. Screams of wounded men pierced the clear day, even more disturbing than the thunder of cannons.
The Chincoteague’s sails fluttered and the ship briefly staggered, then the bow swung out of sight in a pall of cannon smoke and Picard couldn’t judge what was happening out there.
But there was fire on the other ship.
He was sure of that.
“She’s bearing off!” someone shouted, and the crew— those still standing—broke into cheers.
“Shameful,” Picard commented, “to cheer the defeat of an enemy.”
Alexander looked up at him. “Why is it shameful?”
“Could just as easily have been us. It’s not polite.”
“But we beat them. Why shouldn’t we celebrate?”
“It’s not my taste to do so.”
The boy looked at the retreating colonial ship. “It’s mine,” he admitted, and he stood up and started cheering with the rest of the crew.
Picard stared at the boy, caught by the child’s disrespect for the opinion of his mentor, but also by his defiant sense of self. Hadn’t quite expected that…
“Alexander,” he began, “Alexander, pay attention. We have to be somewhat careful. This holoprogram is over seventy-five years old, and was written by historians, not technicians. Things can happen.”
The boy divided his attention between Picard and the retreating Chincoteague. “Bad things?”
“Yes. This program is only barely compatible with the ship’s modern systems. The safeties may not work properly. I have no way to know whether or not that sailor’s pistol would actually have hurt me.”
“We’re not quitting, are we?”
“No, no.”
“We’re going to stay and look for my ancestor, aren’t we?”
“Yes, I’m sure he’s here somewhere.”
“Then what should we do about the safeties?”
“Until we know,” Picard said, “I suggest we duck.”
Chapter Five
“ATTENTION, CARGO SINDIKASH four-zero-five, this is Commander William Riker