with dozens of windows protruded down from the front, affording the pilot an unobstructed view of the ground below. Along the sides of the massive gasbag, platforms were built out over empty space. On each, Braxton saw a Gatling gun and mortar tubes manned by watchful soldiers. There were also guns on the top of the ship where a narrow deck ran on either side of the metal spine.
“Impressive, isn’t she?” Sherman said with a chuckle. “That’s the Jefferson , my flagship. Instead of doing something useful, she’s going to take us and a few dozen airships south to drop you off.”
Braxton finally tore his eyes away from the Jefferson , looking beyond her. The sky was filled with airships, some big, some small, some looking like no more than flying supply barges. All these hovered obediently, waiting for Air Marshal Sherman to command them.
“So many,” Braxton said. “Begging your pardon, sir, but won’t they draw attention?”
Sherman shook his head.
“We need that many in case the Rebs see us,” he said. “Each of those ships has mortars and guns to protect her. If we have to fight off Jackson and his dragons, I want all the fire we can muster in the air.”
“Can you really fight off a dragon from one of those?”
Sherman fixed Braxton with a hard glare.
“I don’t see we’ve got much choice,” he said. “Most likely the dragons’ll take down a few of us, then leave off when they run out of fire.”
Braxton gave him a blank, puzzled look.
“Dragons can only spit fire a few times before they run out of their combustible saliva,” he said. “Near as we can figure it takes a day or two for them to recharge.”
“So,” Braxton said, trying to get his head around what Sherman was telling him. “You go with as many ships as possible and hope the dragons only take down a few of you before they run dry?”
“That’s about it,” he said. “Of course, it’s going to be dangerous, going as far behind enemy lines as we are. If we’re seen, we’re going to lose a lot of good men on this damn fool’s errand.”
“What happens when the dragons run out of fire?” he asked. “Can’t they still attack?
Sherman shook his head. “Once they’re dry they head home. They don’t dare get in close with all the guns we’ve got.”
Braxton understood why the Confederates would use the dragon fire on airships filled with hydrogen and shuddered again.
“Do Gatling guns really work on them?” he asked.
Sherman’s face split into a menacing grin.
“Sure,” he said. “They kill riders real good and dragon wings can’t take much damage before the beasts fall out of the sky like stones.”
Braxton shivered at the thought of plummeting to the ground from this height. At that moment a gust of wind caught them and the boat rocked. Braxton grabbed the gunwale and held on for dear life.
“Don’t worry, Captain,” he growled. “It’s just a little wind. Takes more than that to knock me out of the sky.”
Braxton had a million questions about the Jefferson and airship travel, but Sherman closed the discussion by turning around on his bench and giving orders to the pilot in the stern. “Bring us up on the port side forward, Jensen, then berth the launch aft.”
The trip to the Jefferson took longer than Braxton thought. The ship already looked enormous but just kept growing bigger and bigger as they approached. Finally, the pilot stopped the propellers and the launch drifted up beside the iron catwalk where men with long hooked poles waited to catch her. They pulled the launch alongside and secured her against the catwalk with ropes. Surprisingly, when Braxton stepped aboard from the launch, the deck felt solid under him, without any of the swaying and rocking of the smaller boat.
“Just like being on the ground,” Sherman said, stepping around Braxton. “Follow me, Captain, I need a word in the pilot house before you meet your men.”
Braxton followed Air Marshal Sherman along the
“Impressive, isn’t she?” Sherman said with a chuckle. “That’s the Jefferson , my flagship. Instead of doing something useful, she’s going to take us and a few dozen airships south to drop you off.”
Braxton finally tore his eyes away from the Jefferson , looking beyond her. The sky was filled with airships, some big, some small, some looking like no more than flying supply barges. All these hovered obediently, waiting for Air Marshal Sherman to command them.
“So many,” Braxton said. “Begging your pardon, sir, but won’t they draw attention?”
Sherman shook his head.
“We need that many in case the Rebs see us,” he said. “Each of those ships has mortars and guns to protect her. If we have to fight off Jackson and his dragons, I want all the fire we can muster in the air.”
“Can you really fight off a dragon from one of those?”
Sherman fixed Braxton with a hard glare.
“I don’t see we’ve got much choice,” he said. “Most likely the dragons’ll take down a few of us, then leave off when they run out of fire.”
Braxton gave him a blank, puzzled look.
“Dragons can only spit fire a few times before they run out of their combustible saliva,” he said. “Near as we can figure it takes a day or two for them to recharge.”
“So,” Braxton said, trying to get his head around what Sherman was telling him. “You go with as many ships as possible and hope the dragons only take down a few of you before they run dry?”
“That’s about it,” he said. “Of course, it’s going to be dangerous, going as far behind enemy lines as we are. If we’re seen, we’re going to lose a lot of good men on this damn fool’s errand.”
“What happens when the dragons run out of fire?” he asked. “Can’t they still attack?
Sherman shook his head. “Once they’re dry they head home. They don’t dare get in close with all the guns we’ve got.”
Braxton understood why the Confederates would use the dragon fire on airships filled with hydrogen and shuddered again.
“Do Gatling guns really work on them?” he asked.
Sherman’s face split into a menacing grin.
“Sure,” he said. “They kill riders real good and dragon wings can’t take much damage before the beasts fall out of the sky like stones.”
Braxton shivered at the thought of plummeting to the ground from this height. At that moment a gust of wind caught them and the boat rocked. Braxton grabbed the gunwale and held on for dear life.
“Don’t worry, Captain,” he growled. “It’s just a little wind. Takes more than that to knock me out of the sky.”
Braxton had a million questions about the Jefferson and airship travel, but Sherman closed the discussion by turning around on his bench and giving orders to the pilot in the stern. “Bring us up on the port side forward, Jensen, then berth the launch aft.”
The trip to the Jefferson took longer than Braxton thought. The ship already looked enormous but just kept growing bigger and bigger as they approached. Finally, the pilot stopped the propellers and the launch drifted up beside the iron catwalk where men with long hooked poles waited to catch her. They pulled the launch alongside and secured her against the catwalk with ropes. Surprisingly, when Braxton stepped aboard from the launch, the deck felt solid under him, without any of the swaying and rocking of the smaller boat.
“Just like being on the ground,” Sherman said, stepping around Braxton. “Follow me, Captain, I need a word in the pilot house before you meet your men.”
Braxton followed Air Marshal Sherman along the
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