The Plains of Pluto
Copyright© 2025 by Lumpy
Chapter 16
Southern Wistla River
Leodgar walked along the iron top deck of the Isarna, enjoying a few minutes of calm night air. These iron ships were a miracle and he’d shown dozens of times over the last eight months just how powerful they were, but being inside of one was a little like being inside of a closed furnace.
They were cramped, hot, and everything inside of it felt like it was covered in a layer of coal dust from the constantly burning boilers powering the entire thing.
Fresh air had truly become a luxury at this point.
Worse, the opportunities to take these small escapes out of the ship were few and far between, as most of the time the enemy was never far away, trying to find a way across the river. It was only after weeks of relative quiet on the opposite bank that he felt safe enough for these short sojourns, and then only in the evening when the moon was overcast like tonight.
And only for a few short minutes.
Leodgar closed his eyes and listened to the water lapping against the armored plating and the sounds made by the small number of Britannian legionaries on patrol on their side of the river.
In another time and place it would be almost peaceful.
With one last deep breath of fresh air, Leodgar turned and went back to the top hatch of the ship, descending back into the armored confines of the vessel.
Most of the men were in hammocks stretched along the gun deck. It wasn’t luxurious living, but men had an uncanny knack for becoming accustomed to all sorts of accommodations.
Just outside of the ship’s pilot house, from where the ship was commanded and steered, he found Appius already waiting for him.
The man looked a little green.
The youngest of his officers, he knew how he would have felt in the young man’s place. It was going to be his first time in command of a watch, which was a big moment in any young officer’s career. Even though they were battling a war, it didn’t take away the duty to train the next generation of leaders in the legion, especially in the navy, which had not existed a decade ago.
“Sir,” Appius said, standing at attention when he noticed Leodgar.
“Stand easy,” he said, patting the young man’s arm. “Are you ready for your first watch?”
“Yes, sir. I ... Yes, sir.”
Leodgar smiled again. “You’ll do fine. The opposite bank has been quiet all day. We haven’t even seen a picket today. Which doesn’t mean they aren’t over there. Quiet and safe are two very different things. You can’t let your guard down.”
“No, Sir. I mean, Yes, Sir.”
“You’re not alone on this stretch. There’s a century spread over this mile on the friendly side of the river doing some reconnaissance. Not enough to fight, but they will be keeping an eye on the opposite side. Part of your job tonight is to be in regular communication with their pickets. I’m not expecting them to see anything, but protocols must be maintained, and it will be good practice for both of you.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good. We’ll stay with a skeleton watch tonight. Keep the gun crews...”
Leodgar’s next words were swallowed up by a thunderous explosion, the blast close enough to make the ironclad’s armor plates shudder. More shells exploded seconds later, causing both men to grip the low ceiling to brace themselves as the ship began to shake more violently.
“Battle stations!” Leodgar bellowed, already running into the pilot house. “Every man to his gun!”
Pushing a sailor out of the way, Leodgar pressed himself up against the observation slit, trying to see what was out there in spite of the overcast night. He could have kicked himself, walking along the top of the boat, oblivious to the Easterners setting up on the opposite bank.
There. The telltale flashes of enemy artillery and rifles on the eastern bank.
“Opposite shore. Cannon fire two points aft of the midline. Have gunners spread fire across the entire section of the bank and signal the infantry on the shore to bring up units.”
The crew scrambled to carry out their orders, although the delay in his cannons opening fire felt like an eternity. Part of his brain defended them, since most had been settling down for the night and everyone was caught off guard by the attack, but he did not like giving the Easterners free rein in attacking his ship.
A tremendous impact rocked the Isarna. He’d been looking down that side of the ship when it went off, and saw the shell explode as it hit the water, billowing out into a fireball. It wasn’t solid shot like they’d faced before. These were explosive shells, just like the ones they’d started using.
They’d been hit by the concussive force and shrapnel, not a shell itself. The explosion seemed a little weaker than the shells they were using, but not by much. The armored plates on this ship were thick, but he worried that they would not be strong enough to deflect a direct hit by one of those shells.
His cannon finally opened fire, and explosions of their own began tearing up the opposite shore. Except for brief illumination when a shell exploded, however, he had no idea how accurate his fire was or where, exactly, the enemy cannon was firing from.
It wasn’t direct fire, which had to mean they’d somehow also copied the howitzer design, allowing angled fire which gave their cannons some added protection.
Another shell exploded off the port bow, closer this time. The enemy gunners were finding their range.
“Signal the shore battery!” he ordered. “We need illumination! And tell them to launch one of the damn observation balloons.”
Moments later, a distinctive whump sound came from the western bank. The firing sound was much different to a cannon, but distinctive enough that he could hear it over all the noise. A bright light exploded above the river, slowly drifting down, casting harsh white light over the river. The illumination revealed a nightmarish scene; dozens of small boats packed with Eastern troops were already on the water, while more waited at the far bank.
Everyone on the opposite bank froze at the sudden light. They may have seen the artillery in action, but this was new. He’d made sure his men knew enough about it not to freeze, since the light did not last long, but it must have been a surprise when the shoreline lit up like midday.
It had shocked him the first time he’d seen it demonstrated.
“All guns, target those boats!” Leodgar commanded. “Priority to the closest craft!”
The Isarna’s rifled cannon roared in response. The first shot caught a boat packed with soldiers square in the center, the explosion ripping it in half and throwing men, and parts of men, into the water for dozens of paces in every direction.
More cannon fire followed as the gun crews found their targets. Shell after shell slammed into the approaching boats. Some missed, sending up towering geysers of water, but others found their marks. The river began filling with debris and bodies.
Another shell struck close by, sending water cascading over the iron deck. Leodgar ignored it, trying to focus on something new in the water. A group of boats were coming out very close together, but not pushing hard toward their position. They were moving slowly, staying a little off the shoreline.
It took him a moment to make out the thing they were dragging between them. Some kind of wooden structure, like logs lashed together, with some kind of planking lashed to their tops. He’d never seen the likes of it before, but its function was obvious.
It was some kind of portable bridge they could put in place to get men across the river quickly. A clever design, and also a sign that there were a lot more men on the other shore than he thought if their plan was to storm across once the bridges were laid down.
“They’re trying to bridge the river,” he called out. “New priority targets, sink those log rafts! Make sure to signal the men on the shore.”
His gunners adjusted their aim, blasting away at the makeshift bridges. He wished the infantry had more than a single cannon. The rifles were nice, but even with the flares, visibility wasn’t great and they didn’t have enough men to mass fire. What was going to win this battle were high explosives, and he could only get half his tubes into the battle.
One shell found its mark, blasting timber and bodies skyward. But there were more coming, and in the intermittent flashes of artillery fire, he could see dozens of small boats weaving between the larger pontoons.
“Sir!” A sailor pointed through the observation slit. “Look!”
In the darkness, several boats had slipped dangerously close. Grappling hooks sailed upward, clanging against the iron hull. Ropes were pulled taut as the enemy prepared to climb them.
They were well under the angle his guns could reach.
“Repel boarders!” Leodgar shouted.
His men started to toss grenades out the gun ports, which forced most of the boats back, but one had men already halfway up the side, trying to get up quickly. If they had any kind of explosive on them, they could do serious damage to his ship.
One of his crewmen, a particularly brave man who he’d have to single out for recognition if he survived, popped up out of one of the top hatches and sprinted across the deck. The sailor slashed through one rope, then another, sending the climbers into the water. The other two ropes that were still attached went slack as men fell off the sides and into the water.
The crewman had come prepared and reached to his belt, producing one of the fin-stabilized grenades, yanking the safety strap free and hurled it into the water where the men had fallen.
The explosion sent a column of water and pieces of men raining down against the ship’s hull.
“Tell that man...” he began, and then the world erupted in flame and thunder.
Leodgar was picked up by the force and hurled into the opposing wall, bouncing off the wood and metal interior before slamming into the deck, his head cracking against the metal. For a moment, everything was blurry and he could barely focus on anything but the copper taste in his mouth.
Looking up, he realized he could see clouds and the occasional star. Actual stars. It took another beat for his brain to recognize the massive hole torn in the pilot house roof.
Around him, several of the men he’d been standing with lay motionless, dead, including poor Appius, who was staring at him with lifeless eyes, a gigantic gash in the side of his head.
Leodgar shook his head to clear it, and the sight of the young officer, before pushing himself off the deck. Blood ran down his face, and his left arm hung useless.
“Damage report!” He said, trying to maintain his balance as the deck pitched beneath him.
“Five dead here, sir,” someone called out. “Steering mechanism’s damaged!”
“Get damage control parties moving,” Leodgar ordered, pressing a hand to his bleeding scalp. “And keep those guns firing!”
“Sir, we’re taking on water below. That last hit opened up the hull.”
“Open the starboard ports and start bailing,” Leodgar commanded. “Get the carpenter’s mate down there. We patch what we can but keep those guns firing.”
Moving back to the observation slit, he watched more boats push forward across the river. The water between the river banks had become a hellscape of fire, smoke, and bodies.
They were going to be swamped soon.
“Reload with canister!” Leodgar ordered.
Enemy artillery continued to pound their position. A shell burst directly overhead, showering shrapnel down through the open roof, killing a sailor right behind him.
The enemy fire rate had slowed, but his guns were now completely occupied with the boats trying to board them, giving the enemy gunners free rein.
He was considering if they should abandon the ship and burn it, try to escape to the shore, when fresh explosions began to walk across the eastern shore, hammering the enemy guns and men still trying to launch boats.
Several of the explosions were deeper inland, away from the shore. They must have hit an enemy gun and its limber directly, as an explosion rippled into a much larger explosion that seemed to cascade down a line. It was as if some great beast had burned a line down the fields behind the shoreline, sending flames streaking into the sky.
The enemy had set up their guns and powder stores too close together, allowing them to be caught in a kind of cascade.
Running to the other side and looking out the opposite observation slit, he saw multiple Britannian field pieces opening up, along with maybe a hundred rifles.
The reinforcements had arrived.
He could even see that one of the observation balloons was up, which explained how they were hitting those enemy pieces so accurately.
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