When Kralik was finished, he said, “There were some other ships at the dock, and I’m having my soldiers requisition one of them. But they’re not sailors. By the time they find someone who can operate the vessel and get out here, it’ll probably be too late.”
Tamt, Aille’s bodyguard, came barreling around the far end of the deck, ears swiveling and shoulder singed. She supported Oppuk with one arm, settling him against the forecastle beside Kralik. The Governor’s arm was badly gashed, one ear was dangling, and he seemed dazed.
“Most of the Governor’s service are dead!” Tamt said, schooling herself with a visible effort to display calm-observation. “And the rest are injured. You must all take cover.”
“We cannot,” Yaut said with a glance toward the heaving gray-green sea. “The attackers are preparing to board. After that, it is anyone’s guess as to whether they will be able to kill us before this ship sinks.”
Fortunately, Aille thought, the chance of uninjured Jao drowning was so low as to be negligible. Oppuk, on the other hand, and the other wounded, were in no shape to swim to shore from their present position. If forced into the sea, they would most likely die.
“Are there survival craft available on this vessel?” he asked Kralik.
Kralik lurched to his feet, bracing against the trawler’s worsening list. “Should be.” He motioned to Aguilera. “We’ll see what we can find.”
Aguilera glanced at Tully, then handed the human his sidearm. “Make yourself of use, old son,” he said in English, “and don’t get stupid on me.” Then he rose and left, limping after Kralik.
Tully hefted the weapon with a strange look on his face. His body seemed uncertain, but Aille cautioned himself not to put a Jao interpretation on human gestures. That stance might just as easily translate into pleasure at being trusted, or excitement in anticipation of the coming firefight. It was difficult to say exactly what anything a human did actually meant.
With a shout, a small green ovoid came flying over the trawler’s side, then rolled unevenly down the slanted deck toward them. Aille narrowed his eyes, trying to make it out.
“Jesus Christ!” Tully scrambled forward and frantically swatted the ball-like object back over the side. Then he fell to the deck, arms locked over his head, eyes screwed shut. A moment later, a muffled explosion sprayed water and mist everywhere. Aille realized the object had been a delayed-fuse bomblet of some sort, and had erupted after plunging into the sea. Tully had saved their lives by knocking it off the deck, but unfortunately the bomblet had not exploded soon enough to kill the humans who had tossed the thing from their boat. Aille could hear the sound of their angry and startled voices, though he could not make out the words themselves.
Yaut flinched, then took aim and fired at the head that appeared above the side of the deck. Its owner ducked, then popped up again and fired a long burst of projectiles that punched a row of neat holes in the trawler’s metal housing. Imitating Tully, Aille flattened himself against the deck.
“Subcommandant?” Caitlin Stockwell’s frightened face peered around the stairs. “What’s happening?”
“Go below!” Kralik shouted at her from above. His forehead was bleeding an unsettling shade of red from a scratch over one eye. “We have armed boarders! You have to stay out of sight!”
“How many are there?” Aille asked in Jao, his eyes on the spot where the would-be boarders had last appeared.
“Four, I think,” Kralik replied in the same language. “They are working their way down toward your position. Their next assault should come straight at you.”
Then they would have to move. Aille eased Oppuk’s unsteady weight into the top of the stairwell, then motioned Yaut, Tully, and Tamt to follow him. Tully glanced back, clearly concerned about the Stockwell scion. Aille waved him on, putting all the force of his will in the gesture. The young female would either obey orders or die. They did not have time to coddle her.
However small scale, this was war.
* * *
Oppuk blinked up through mist that was half rain blown into the stairwell and half fogged vision. His ears rang as though his battered head were made of metal and someone had struck him with a stick. Just beyond the open door, he heard shouting and weapons-fire. The air stank of chemical accelerants. He could not remember what had happened. Had the boat malfunctioned in some manner? Putting a hand to his spinning head, he rebuked himself. He should have known better than to trust human technology. Their primitive devices often failed at the most inopportune times.