FORTUNE’S STROKE BY ERIC FLINT DAVID DRAKE

“Hysterically so,” he pronounced. His next words were drowned under the sound of another rocket volley screaming overhead. Again, he and Antonina craned their necks, watching the rockets’ trajectory.

“Can’t see where they hit!” complained Antonina. Scowling: “Can’t see anything, in this ridiculous position.”

Ousanas’ grin returned. “Which,” he said with satisfaction, “is the whole point. You don’t need to see where they hit. And if you can’t see the rockets when they hit, we can hope they will return the favor.”

Antonina’s scowl, if anything, deepened. “That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard! Those rockets’ll go wherever they want to go. You watch!” Deep, deep scowl. “Except we won’t be able to watch because we can’t see a damned thing so the rockets’ll catch us by surprise and—”

The next volley of rockets caught them by surprise. The Malwa, apparently, had adjusted the angle of the rocket troughs perched in the bows of the oncoming galleys. The first signal of incoming fire which Antonina and Ousanas received was the sudden boom of rockets smashing into the bow-shield and caroming off to either side. They only caught glimpses of the missiles streaking past. Perhaps two seconds later, they heard the erupting warheads. Both of them knew, from the sound alone, that the rockets had exploded harmlessly in midair.

Antonina’s displeasure vanished instantly. “Beautiful!” she cried. “Beautiful!”

She squirmed onto her knees, raising her head high enough to be able to see over the side of the ship. Ousanas made no objection. He even gave Matthew and Leo, squatting nearby, a reassuring little wave of the hand. The essence of the gesture was clear. As long as the fool woman doesn’t stick her head and her brass tits out where any Malwa can take a shot at her.

Antonina’s lips were pursed, now, with a faint worry. “One problem, though. I hadn’t thought about it.” She pointed forward. “We sure enough protect against bow shots. But the ricochets might hit one of the ships alongside. There isn’t any shielding covering most of the ships.”

Ousanas shrugged. “Won’t matter, Antonina. Luck—good or bad—will happen as it will.”

The bow shield bellied again under the impact of a new rocket volley. Again, the boom, almost like a drum; and, again, two missiles caromed by. And, again, exploded harmlessly over the waves.

Antonina, scanning right and left as she stared toward the stern of the flagship, was relieved by what she saw. The Ethiopian ship captains had already recognized the same danger and were responding. Charax’s delta was several miles wide, giving plenty of sea room. The Axumite ships, advancing in a single line, were already spreading out.

Antonina watched several more rockets bounce off the shields on other ships and skitter past the entire formation. The angle of the shields, she realized, was so acute that only the worst possible luck could cause a rocket to carom sideways.

“The main thing,” Ousanas continued—unlike Antonina, he had not bothered to watch the trajectories—”is that almost all the incoming rockets will be harmless. Once we get in ramming range, they’ll stop firing.”

He chuckled grimly. “Not even a fanatic Mahaveda priest will want to be in the bow of a ship plunging in for a ram.”

Antonina turned back and hunkered lower. She studied the figure of Gersem in the bow. The new Dakuen commander, still peering intently through a slit in the shield, suddenly seemed very young.

Ousanas, apparently, could read minds. “Relax. I picked him, even though he’s the most junior of the sub-officers, because he’s also the best seaman.”

“Says who?” demanded Antonina. “You know as much about boats as I do about—”

“Says all the other sub-officers,” came the serene reply. Ousanas stretched out his arms, pointing to the Axumite ships ranging alongside them to both port and starboard.

“That’s true on all of them. Existing commanders, of course, weren’t replaced. But until the boarding starts, command of each of those ships is in the hands of the most capable captain. Rank be damned.”

Mention of “boarding” focused Antonina’s mind elsewhere. She turned and smiled sweetly at Matthew.

“I forgive you. Now, please bring me my gun.”

It was Ousanas’ turn to scowl. “What do you need that thing for?” he demanded. “You aren’t going to be storming across any decks.”

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