The Plains of Pluto - Chapter 6

West African Coast

‘I must be insane to have the whole fleet out in this weather,’ Valdar thought as the deck heaved beneath him as another massive wave crashed against her hull.

Not that he’d had a lot of choice in the matter. The schooner Tiwaz had been on one of the wide patrols that he’d set up to keep an eye out for the eastern reinforcements to their now destroyed fleet that he’d been expecting for some time.

Communication delay was a serious problem this far away from civilization, and his victory over that fleet had been so complete that none of them had been able to flee and warn their countrymen that their attack had failed.

It was, of course, just his luck that, after two months of being on alert for their ships, they’d finally found them just as the massive storm he’d predicted pushed in from the west, hammering the African coast.

And now his ships.

Rain lashed horizontally across the deck, driven by howling winds that threatened to tear the sails from their yards despite being reefed down to bare minimum. The western coast of Africa lay somewhere to starboard, but in these conditions, they’d be lucky to spot land before running aground on it.

Valdar gripped the railing, knuckles bone-white, his oilskins plastered to him like a second skin, the salt spray stinging his eyes. Visibility was down to mere feet. It was like sailing through the end of the world. Finding his own ships was problem enough. It would be all but impossible to find the enemy.

But he didn’t want them sailing past him. Once they realized the fate of their fleet, they could choose to continue north. If there were enough of them, and his scout had counted thirty sails, they could wreak havoc in the middle sea.

“Signal the fleet to tighten formation,” Valdar ordered. “Any ship that loses sight of us in this mess is on their own until morning.”

“Signals won’t carry far in this, Admiral. Half the fleet can barely see our stern lanterns as it is,” his first mate said.

Valdar knew he was right. He’d brought fourteen ships with him, ten caravels and four schooners, and they were scattered across several miles of angry sea, maintaining what formation they could in the storm. The caravels were handling it better than the schooners, but even they were struggling against waves that seemed determined to swallow them whole.

“Keep her steady on this heading,” he told the helmsman. “That Eastern fleet has to be close. They wouldn’t risk the deeper waters in weather like this.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when a flash of lightning illuminated the sea around them, and Valdar’s heart nearly stopped.

“Hard to port!” he roared. “All hands brace for impact!”

The helmsman spun the wheel with desperate strength as a dark shape materialized out of the darkness directly ahead. The Bellona heeled over, timbers groaning as she turned. Valdar caught a glimpse of high sides and strange rigging as an Eastern caravel swept past them, so close he could have tossed a coin onto her deck.

“Beat to quarters! Gun crews to stations!” The drum took up the call as sailors scrambled to their posts. “Fire as you bear!”

It was a formality, to let everyone know the enemy was upon them. His men had been ready for combat since they left the newly dubbed Port Caolros, which was only a handful of temporary work shacks, as the construction entered the very beginning stages.

The gun crews were already in motion, as the first drum roll sounded. The Bellona’s guns spoke almost as soon as the order to fire was given, the concussion of their discharge felt through the deck. Twelve explosive shells screamed across the short distance to the enemy vessel.

This would be the first chance to use the new explosive shells developed by the Consul and the new cannon designed to fire them. It was why Valdar had only brought fourteen ships. These were the only ones equipped with the cannon so far, as they waited for more shipments from home.

Valdar watched as multiple impacts struck the enemy vessel along its waterline. As soon as the metal projectiles hit, a series of massive explosions lit up the night, the flash revealing the shocking devastation as the shells detonated along the enemy hull.

It was like nothing Valdar had ever experienced.

The Eastern caravel’s sides blew outward in a shower of splintered wood. Even in the heavy rain, the ship caught light, the side facing them ripped open almost completely, now just a burning wreck illuminating the storm-tossed seas around them.

By the gods, it was something.

“More ships! Three points off the starboard bow!”

Through the curtain of rain, he could make out at least four more Eastern vessels, their high-sided bulk unmistakable even in the poor visibility. They were already turning towards the Bellona, gun ports opening along their sides.

“Helm, bring us about two points to starboard. We’ll cross between them if we can, split their formation. Signal the nearest ships to form on us if they can see the flags. We need to concentrate our fire before they can organize themselves.”

The storm raged around them as the Bellona turned to meet her opponents. Lightning crackled overhead, briefly revealing a long string of enemy ships laid out before him.

Thankfully, the enemy ships weren’t the only thing the lightning showed him. The Aquila burst through a wall of rain behind the Bellona, her new cannons firing. The Eastern vessel caught in her sights never stood a chance. Multiple explosions ripped through its hull. The enemy ship split apart, vanishing beneath the waves with shocking speed.

“Maintain loose line formation!” Valdar shouted over the howling wind. “Keep enough distance to maneuver!”

His signalmen raised lanterns on the upper mast, since flags would be all but impossible to see. They were too close to the enemy, already tied up in their formation. Many of his ships would be fighting their own battles. A poor way to conduct a naval engagement, but one that Valdar would have to deal with. His men were too spread out to get into line quick enough to engage.

Trying to do it now, the Bellona and a few of the ships closest to him would be engaging the entire enemy fleet while they waited for the rest to catch up. At least at grips, it would limit how many of their ships could engage at a time.

A massive wave lifted the Bellona’s bow, and as they crested it, Valdar spotted three more Eastern vessels through gaps in the rain. Their high-sided bulk made them visible despite the darkness.

“Helm, bring us between those two on the right,” Valdar ordered. “Gun crews, prepare to fire both broadsides!”

The Bellona turned slowly. To his right, he could see the Aeolus engaging an enemy vessel. While his ships’ new cannons were devastating, the enemy was not without their own answer. An eastern ship’s broadside crashed into the Aeolus’s rigging, sending splinters and torn canvas flying.

“Admiral!” One of the men on the railing behind him said, pointing. “The Ghaoth Álainn is taking heavy fire!”

Valdar turned to see the schooner listing badly, multiple hits visible along her hull. Captain Valerius was fighting to keep her afloat while trading fire with two Eastern vessels.

“Belay my previous command. Bring us about. We need to draw their fire from the Ghaoth Álainn.”

The Bellona swung around, her guns firing as soon as its broadside pointed toward one of the enemy ships. The explosive shells smashed into the side of the enemy, cracking it open like an egg.

On the other side of the enemy ships, the Sedreki appeared, firing nearly point blank at the other ship that had targeted the Ghaoth Álainn, its cannons blazing.

A timely save, but one that put two other enemy ships very close to the Sedreki. At that close range, round shot could still do a tremendous amount of damage. This intermingled, his people were able to be separated from one another and swarmed. Already three ships had been severely damaged. None had sunk, but they were being battered from multiple angles from close-in broadsides.

“Run up the disengage signal,” Valdar ordered. “Keep the lanterns lit. Put up the signal to follow the flag. I know most won’t see it, but put it up anyway.”

The message went up to the crow’s nest, followed by a one, dark, one lantern pattern. It would have been hard to see if you were at a bad angle, but almost as soon as it was up, the Sedreki and Ghaoth Álainn put their own signals up, heaving about to fall in with the flagship.

“Helm, bring us north by northeast. We’ll use this wind to pull clear. Gun crews are to maintain fire on any targets that present themselves.”

The men at the guns didn’t even wait for the order before cannons fired again. Valdar could imagine the sheer elation of the gun captains at seeing their cannons wipe out entire ships with so little effort.

Two of the enemy ships angled hard, trying to catch the Bellona as it broke out of the melee, and taking its broadsides out of the fight. Other ships had fallen in with the Bellona, and Valdar did not want to take them all back into the melee, but with the line slowly snaking away from the enemy fleet, it left them vulnerable.

“Sir, the Velox is making a run at those two Eastern ships bearing down on us,” the helmsman said.

Valdar spotted the nimble schooner darting between the larger vessels, her guns blazing. Captain Bituitus was using his ship’s superior handling to keep the enemy off balance, preventing them from bringing their full broadsides to bear on the withdrawing Britannian vessels.

“Clever bastard,” Valdar muttered. “He’s buying time for the caravels to break free.”

It wasn’t without risk, pulling between the two ships may have kept the enemy from putting their broadsides to work against the disengaging fleet, but it meant those same guns could rake it.

The fire was incredible, and the small schooner took a hell of a beating as it got through the ships and limped away. Thankfully, its guns, though fewer in number, had done even more damage to the two chasing ships, leaving them reeling in the opposite direction, rudderless and out of control.

There was nothing Valdar could do about the Velox now. All he could do was defeat this fleet. Then he could worry about his injured ships.

Slowly, much too slowly, his remaining caravels fell into line. The Dumnos and the Hfran both pushed their way out of the battling fleet, their cannons firing as fast as their gun crews could reload.

They were bought a moment to escape the fight by a lucky shot. A tremendous explosion lit up the storm-darkened sky as one of Dumnos’s broadsides found an enemy powder magazine. The Eastern caravel simply ceased to exist, transformed into a rapidly expanding ball of fire and debris that briefly illuminated the entire battlefield.

“Three more of our ships visible to starboard,” the first mate reported. “The Aquila, Praetor, and Hasta. All showing withdrawal signals.”

That was enough. Nine of his Caravels and two schooners were in line and the Velox was safely out of the way, if hobbled. Time to finish this.

“Turn the line west and bring us to bear. All ships to fire as they will. Tear them apart.”

The line snaked, slowly curving itself to the west. His gunners didn’t wait for the order to fire. With more room, they could target their shots better, even through the rain, picking their victims. Behind him, other ships joined the barrage as dozens and then hundreds of shells arched into the tightly packed enemy formation.

Ships were torn apart as if made of light linen, its people leaping into the violently churning sea. They tried to rally, pull into their own line to counter the Britannians’ now coordinated attacks, but it was too little too late.

Not with the new shells in action. A dozen more ships were headed toward the bottom on fire within minutes, torn apart by the Britannian guns. 

That was enough for the handful of remaining eastern vessels. They turned and tried to flee as best they could, some toward the coast with the better winds, and some toward the open ocean.

It was all men for themselves.

“Should we pursue, Admiral?”

Valdar shook his head. “No. In this weather, chasing scattered ships would be suicide. Signal all ships to form up. We need to assess damage and get our wounded to safety.”

Two ships were missing, and three more heavily damaged, with lighter damage across the rest of the fleet. In return, they had sunk between twenty and twenty-five enemy vessels in near-blinding weather. Not just destroyed. Obliterated.

A good victory indeed.

***

Devnum

He was annoyed at being a glorified messenger. While he understood why he’d been given his task, and it had been his decision to not hand it to an underling, he still would rather not be back in Devnum. His people were good, and he’d trained them to do their jobs properly, but there were so many projects currently in the works, it was too much for the managers on each of them to coordinate between them properly.

Having looked at the notes he carried, in addition to the heavy case he’d had to keep carefully balanced and upright, told him this was not an urgent project. Yes, it was something they had been working on for a while, but it was in no way necessary for the current war effort.

Still, the Consul had asked that they bring this sample to Hywel, the head imperial physician, and even Sorantius was loath to disobey. The Consul, after all, was the font of all the advancements the empire had seen, as well as its very survival, so they owed him some level of obedience.

Even from a begrudging Sorantius.

Sorantius sighed and stepped through Devnum’s hospital. Although it was cold outside, it was a steady warm temperature inside the hospital thanks to reset braziers that burned at even distances, filled with hot coals. It occurred to Sorantius it must be someone’s full-time responsibility to just keep these filled with hot coals, and disposing or reheating the old coals across the entire building. He could see the benefit, keeping an even temperature, to allow people to fight off their illnesses without struggling to maintain their body temperatures, but it seemed like a lot of work.

It was just one of the things that made the building unique, a standard for all of the new construction across the city and the empire, its architecture reflecting both Roman traditions and the influence of newer construction methods promoted by Consul Ky. Walls were thick, fitted to discourage fires and help keep in the heat produced by the inset braziers, and small oil lamps were interspaced as well, keeping the hallways well lit without needing to open windows.

“I’m looking for Imperial Physician Hywel,” he said to a younger man in the simple tunic and trousers that was the uniform of everyone who worked in the hospital, perhaps to let patients know who to turn to for help.

“Down that hallway, all the way to the end, turn left, and then all the way to the end, last door on your right.”

Sorantius nodded to the man followed his directions. He passed ward after ward, seeing cots lined with wounded soldiers, women in labor, and people injured in various accidents across the city. Most were in serious state, especially the soldiers. Only the worst cases tended to end up here at the hospital, the rest tended by front line medical facilities. Even those in the city tended to go to the small private offices of men trained in the medical arts and practicing on their own across the city.

At last, he stopped before a door bearing a plain wooden sign reading ‘Hywel, Imperial Physician.’ He heard two voices within, though he could not make out the words. Sorantius, not a man used to waiting on others and with a task given to him by the Consul, did not wait to be admitted. He knocked twice on the door and then let himself in.

Inside the room Hywel was sitting at his desk with a slender young man, barely into adulthood, standing nervously in front of him.

Hywel looked at Sorantius, a slightly annoyed expression on his face, before turning back to the young man, ignoring the chemist.

“Try that method,” Hywel said in a measured, articulate tone. “Report back if you see even a small improvement. I think you’re on the right track, but remember you aren’t alone on this. Just keep at it and remember you are here to learn as much as to heal.”

The young man nodded and hurried out, sparing a curious glance at Sorantius as he left the room.

Hywel exhaled and rolled his shoulders. “I used to think the training needed to become a healer was overwhelming. Every day we faced new tests by our masters in between producing pulstises and doing menial tasks. We were as much servants as students. Now these new methods from the Consul … by the gods, I’m thankful I’m not just beginning. Our novices break their brains trying to learn it all.”

“I suppose so,” Sorantius muttered, more an acknowledgement that he’d heard the physician than engaging.

Things had been different for all of them, before the Consul’s new way of doing things. Sorantius would agree with that. But he did not long for the old ways, the fumbling about, not understanding why or how things worked. The Consul not only brought them innovations but explained those innovations.

Sorantius had no nostalgia for the past.

“What brings you here, Sorantius? If it’s to explain to me again why we are low on ether for surgery, I can only say the physicians we sent to the front are the ones asking for more. If you have a problem with it, take it up with the consul.”

“It is not about that,” Sorantius said, flicking the door closed to ensure privacy. “We have increased production as you asked, but these are multi-stage chemicals, requiring time to properly produce them. No, I am here about something else.”

Sorantius set the case down on the desk and unfastening its brass latches, opening the hinges and revealing a series of carefully padded jars, each sealed with a wax stopper. He removed one jar and sat it on the desk, the lantern on the desk revealing a cloudy liquid inside.

“What is this?”

“A new chemical we’ve devised through the Consul’s direction that he calls Formaldehyde. The consul tells me it will revolutionize how you train your young protégés. It is capable of preserving organic matter and preventing decay, although there are steps of diluting it before its use. A properly treated specimen can last months, perhaps years.”

“Really,” Hywel said, leaning forward, examining the liquid with newfound interest. “That would solve so many of our teaching constraints. No more rushing through dissections before the bodies rot.”

“I believe that was his intent,” Sorantius said, pulling a stack of papers from the case and setting them next to the jar. “The Consul provided detailed instructions for its use. Proper dilution ratios, application methods, safety precautions. He was quite specific about the ventilation requirements.”

Hywel’s hand moved closer to the jar as he studied it closely, seeming to only half listen to Sorantius, transfixed by the liquid.

When his fingers moved to the wax seal, Sorantius said, “I would not open that. The fumes are quite noxious. Even a small amount can cause severe irritation to the eyes and throat.”

Hywel’s hand pulled back. “Chemical burns?”

That was something new that they had all come to know and hate. It was by far the most frequent injury caused in his facilities. Even with his intense focus on the safety of his people, especially following the tank rupture seven years ago, accidents still happened.

They had learned quickly that even if it was possible for a simple liquid, cold to the touch, could burn a man as bad as an open flame. Worse, even, since water would often not quench the burning caused by these chemicals.

“Yes, in concentrated form like this. The documentation includes precise ratios for dilution with water before use. The Consul was quite specific about proper handling procedures.”

“Fascinating.” Hywel picked up the first page of instructions, reading over it as if it was the first time Sorantius had given it to him. “And this will truly prevent decay? For how long?”

“We’ve preserved rat specimens for three months now with no visible degradation. The tissue maintains its structure and firmness, though the color changes somewhat. However, that was a test and we threw it out at that point. I couldn’t say what state the organs were in, although the Consul assures me it will keep a tissue alive for some time.

“Three months...” Hywel set down the paper, his expression thoughtful. “Do you realize what this could mean for medical training? Right now we’re forced to rush through anatomical instruction because bodies decay so quickly. Even in winter we have perhaps a week at most before decomposition makes further study impossible.”

“I’m sure that was one of the reasons the Consul asked us to develop it, although he does not often consult me on his thinking when giving us new projects.”

“Still, we could preserve examples of specific injuries and diseases - show students exactly what decay looks like in its various stages or the progression of growths. Theory is all well and good, but nothing compares to seeing pathology with one’s own eyes.”

“There are instructions for whole body preservation as well, though that’s more in your domain than mine. The chemical penetrates deep into tissue when properly administered through the blood vessels.”

“Through the vessels? You mean perfusion? Like the old Egyptian embalmers with natron?”

Sorantius was familiar with the Egyptian practices. Before the Consul, they were among the foremost in creating and developing chemicals that could change the very nature of a thing. It had always fascinated him, although he had not been able to visit the place due to its being in Carthaginian hands. By the time it was free, the Consul had opened his mind to a much larger world of possibilities, and there was little reason to leave his workshop.

“Similar principle I believe. Again, it is in the Consul’s notes.”

“It is interesting, though,” Hywel said, sitting back and turning his attention to Sorantius directly. “Most of what the Consul gives us serves immediate military needs. This is different. Training tools aren’t exactly pressing wartime priorities.”

“I can explain part of that. We began work on it before the war. The Consul requested it nearly fourteen months ago, though production proved challenging.”

“Really? Even with the Consul’s help?”

“Even before the war, the Consul wasn’t always readily available. There was so much work to be done on the continent that progress would stall for months, waiting for him to return.”

“That is very true. But you continued working on it over this last year? And he had you bring it to us now?”

“He did. Though I suspect this timing isn’t random. The Consul thinks ahead. Perhaps he sees applications beyond basic training.”

“But he hasn’t shared those plans with you directly?”

“No. As usual, he reveals only what he deems necessary at each stage. I simply make what he requests.”

That’s his way, isn’t it? Parceling out information bit by bit, each piece precisely timed. Sometimes I wonder if he plans these revelations years in advance.”

“Given what I’ve seen of his other projects, I wouldn’t doubt it. But, it has served us well enough,” Sorantius said. “Will you need anything else? The production facility is running smoothly now, so supply shouldn’t be an issue.”

“No, I’ll study these instructions thoroughly before we begin. Though I expect I’ll have questions once we start implementing the preservation protocols.”

“Send word to the facility if you need clarification on safety and handling. I’ve trained the staff in proper handling procedures. They can explain the safety requirements in detail. Otherwise, I’m afraid most of your questions will be for the Consul, and not myself.”

“Natural,” Hywel said, standing. “Thank you for bringing this personally. I know you’d rather be in your workshop.”

Sorantius nodded, opened the door, and left, leaving Hywel to begin pouring over the notes. He could understand the desire, as he had the same reaction every time the Consul sent him new work.

If only these irritating side journeys could cease, he could actually get back to that work.