dressed without help. Can you? ”
Za gadko laughed. “ No, not really. Who’d have thought Kane would… ” Then his slightly patronising smile abruptly faded. “ Oh, god s , ” he said hoarsely. Then in a full throated roar, “ Petrov! Recall Tokarov! NOW! ”
Petrov whirled to face his captain, saw this wasn’t a time to ask for clarification and jerked the radio from his belt. “ Tokarov! ” he said into the handset. “ Pull back to the boat! Captain’s orders, most urgent! ” For answer he only got the dead tone of a clear digital channel. Petrov shook his head. “ I’m sorry, captain. These damn tunnels soak up signals like sponge. ”
“ Take two men. Catch up with them and get them back here immediately. Go! ”
Petrov had barely taken three steps before the surface of the moon pool exploded off to the starboard of the Novgorod .
“ Down! ” shouted Zagadko, grabbing Katya fiercely by the arm and almost throwing her at the open hatch. She sprawled on the metal as the wave smashed into the Novgorod ’s side, making the boat roll ten or fifteen degrees, her hull groaning hideously under the strain. It swept over the deck, blinding Katya for a moment as she covered her head for protection. Zagadko’s legs were swept out from beneath him and he fell heavily before being carried back and almost dumped off the port side. The huge wave hitting the docks caught the Novgorod ’s crew by total su rprise . Katya cleared her face of seawater in time to see the sublieutenant who’d ordered her around previously caught in the backwash as the tonnes of water rolled back into the pool. She looked like the wave had first smashed her against the wall; Katya couldn’t tell if s he was dead or only unconscious . Katya jumped to her feet to run to her aid, but the captain’s voice stopped her in her tracks.
“ No, Ms Kuriakova! Below! Get below! ” He was crawling forward, his sidearm maser – a monster of a gun and definitely not FMA standard issue – drawn and aiming out into the moon pool. Katya stole a sideways look and almost froze. Another submarine was in the pool – leaner and smaller than the Novgorod but just as deadly. Its hydroplanes were up and Katya realised the massive wave had been deliberate. Hatches were already clanging open on her deck an d atop her rakish conning tower, and people – pirates – were streaming out. She watched in horror as a forward hatch opened and a great pintle-mounted weapon rose on a cargo lift, two pirates already manning it. Katya had heard enough war stories from her Uncle Lukyan to know a “ deck-sweeper ” when she saw it; a great brute of a Gatling machinegun engineered so that no two bullets would travel quite the same path. Accuracy wasn’t its strength, just massive firepower delivered in broad strokes.
Behind her, she heard the distinctive half krak , half hisssss of a maser and realised the captain had opened fire. Part of her was watching all this as if it was happening to somebody else. I don’t want to see anyone die, she thought , the sick feeling of fear beginning to grow in her gut .
One of the pirates at the Gatling gun stepped back as if they’d just remembered something important and then collapsed. Katya knew he was dead. Then she saw the Gatling gun come to bear on her and its barrels start ed to spin with a high electrical whine. She dived headlong down the hatch as the first large calibre rounds hailed heavily against the Novgorod ’s hull, stripping off matte-black anechoic tiling and blowing it into the air in a shower of lightless fragments.
She got tangled with the rungs of the gangway ladder and hit the bridge deck heavily, sprawling on her back. Hurt and stunned, she listened to the scream of the Gatling for a few seconds, realising that the captain was very probably dead by now. They’d been fooled, conned by the pirates with their display of comical incompetence into underestimating them. All the while, the pirate vessel
Za gadko laughed. “ No, not really. Who’d have thought Kane would… ” Then his slightly patronising smile abruptly faded. “ Oh, god s , ” he said hoarsely. Then in a full throated roar, “ Petrov! Recall Tokarov! NOW! ”
Petrov whirled to face his captain, saw this wasn’t a time to ask for clarification and jerked the radio from his belt. “ Tokarov! ” he said into the handset. “ Pull back to the boat! Captain’s orders, most urgent! ” For answer he only got the dead tone of a clear digital channel. Petrov shook his head. “ I’m sorry, captain. These damn tunnels soak up signals like sponge. ”
“ Take two men. Catch up with them and get them back here immediately. Go! ”
Petrov had barely taken three steps before the surface of the moon pool exploded off to the starboard of the Novgorod .
“ Down! ” shouted Zagadko, grabbing Katya fiercely by the arm and almost throwing her at the open hatch. She sprawled on the metal as the wave smashed into the Novgorod ’s side, making the boat roll ten or fifteen degrees, her hull groaning hideously under the strain. It swept over the deck, blinding Katya for a moment as she covered her head for protection. Zagadko’s legs were swept out from beneath him and he fell heavily before being carried back and almost dumped off the port side. The huge wave hitting the docks caught the Novgorod ’s crew by total su rprise . Katya cleared her face of seawater in time to see the sublieutenant who’d ordered her around previously caught in the backwash as the tonnes of water rolled back into the pool. She looked like the wave had first smashed her against the wall; Katya couldn’t tell if s he was dead or only unconscious . Katya jumped to her feet to run to her aid, but the captain’s voice stopped her in her tracks.
“ No, Ms Kuriakova! Below! Get below! ” He was crawling forward, his sidearm maser – a monster of a gun and definitely not FMA standard issue – drawn and aiming out into the moon pool. Katya stole a sideways look and almost froze. Another submarine was in the pool – leaner and smaller than the Novgorod but just as deadly. Its hydroplanes were up and Katya realised the massive wave had been deliberate. Hatches were already clanging open on her deck an d atop her rakish conning tower, and people – pirates – were streaming out. She watched in horror as a forward hatch opened and a great pintle-mounted weapon rose on a cargo lift, two pirates already manning it. Katya had heard enough war stories from her Uncle Lukyan to know a “ deck-sweeper ” when she saw it; a great brute of a Gatling machinegun engineered so that no two bullets would travel quite the same path. Accuracy wasn’t its strength, just massive firepower delivered in broad strokes.
Behind her, she heard the distinctive half krak , half hisssss of a maser and realised the captain had opened fire. Part of her was watching all this as if it was happening to somebody else. I don’t want to see anyone die, she thought , the sick feeling of fear beginning to grow in her gut .
One of the pirates at the Gatling gun stepped back as if they’d just remembered something important and then collapsed. Katya knew he was dead. Then she saw the Gatling gun come to bear on her and its barrels start ed to spin with a high electrical whine. She dived headlong down the hatch as the first large calibre rounds hailed heavily against the Novgorod ’s hull, stripping off matte-black anechoic tiling and blowing it into the air in a shower of lightless fragments.
She got tangled with the rungs of the gangway ladder and hit the bridge deck heavily, sprawling on her back. Hurt and stunned, she listened to the scream of the Gatling for a few seconds, realising that the captain was very probably dead by now. They’d been fooled, conned by the pirates with their display of comical incompetence into underestimating them. All the while, the pirate vessel
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