Okay. Okay. This was it. They were ready. Night had fallen, they were approaching the enemy positions under a cloak of darkness, and Archer was absolutely not shitting himself at this very moment. The crew had been training constantly for this specific battle against this specific foe for two months now, ever since Three-Streams and a few sections even before, and Lawrence had reviewed the figures and statistics a hundred times over in just the last week. They may have sunk a rebel destroyer but Commodore Greyfax still outnumbered and outgunned them many times over. Four ramshackle corvettes and a pair of equally cobbled together frigates anchored the flanks of the rebel formation, whilst a heavy frigate equal to the Sunbird in size if not capabilities sat somewhere behind the six smaller escorts. Most worrying was the fact that somewhere in this valley was the Commodore himself upon his light cruiser, the Wolfhound. She was a far larger vessel than the Sunbird and, more worryingly, one that had actually been purpose built by a professional shipyard for war. That alone set it far apart from the rest of the man's bodged flotilla.

The engines were running silent, as was everything else on the ship. The black canvas and cloudy skies had helped conceal them, but no-one was of the delusion that they were invisible. All it would take was a single accidental torch going off, a single searchlight hitting them, and they'd be blown out of the sky in mere minutes.

But it never happened.

Instead they drifted ever-so-slowly into the middle of the rebel formation completely unnoticed. Every man gripped his weapon or a railing with sweaty palms, but none dared to let out the breaths they were all holding for fear that even the smallest noise might alert their quarry.

Every weapon was ready. The carronades, the puckle guns, even the rifles were ready to fire. The Sunbird had one shot at this, and they needed to do it right if they expected to live.

Minute after agonising minute passed by, and Archer eyed Lawrence nervously. He'd never led the Sunbird wrong before, but the risks involved here... it seemed almost suicidal.

Lawrence silently raised an open-palmed hand, signalling for the men to pick their targets as they silently drifted forwards. The foe must have had some pickets out at night, skeleton shifts to keep the formation ready and able to respond as soon as the Sunbird was sighted, and quite frankly Archer couldn't believe that they'd gotten this close to the formation unnoticed. They were closer than they had been back when they'd fought the destroyer, a scant few hundred metres away at the most. The men and women on the weapons did as their captain bid, awaiting the command to strike the foe, but the tenseness of the situation meant that they were taught like a string of wire. With the propensity of some of the crew towards impatience, Talwynn came to mind, he feared that someone would fire a weapon just a moment too early and their whole carefully laid out plan would descend into chaos.

But then something remarkable happened. Just as they came within two-hundred metres of a rebel frigate Archer sensed that the nerves were beginning to leave the crew. There was no room for doubt anymore; they had their orders, their tasks lay in front of them, and all they could do was see them done to the utmost of their abilities.

The sunbird drifted a little further forwards, and then Lawrence spoke in one of the softest, quietest voices Archer had ever heard. Not just from Lawrence, but from anyone. To call it a whisper was an exaggeration of volume, for it was little more than an exhaled breath on the wind. He beckoned the Gunnery Officer to his side, the young woman practically vibrating with anticipation, and then he smirked down at her and spoke.

"Fire, blow their sides."

And then all hell broke loose.

Twelve 32-pounders fired a volley at point-blank range towards predetermined targets on the starboard and larboard sides, whilst the puckle-guns and rifles aimed at the balloons of the smaller vessels around them. They struck hard and struck true, but it was the 68-pounders that truly stole the day.

One of the massive guns struck the heavy frigate directly on the forecastle, whilst the second hit a corvette at less than a hundred metres away and smashed it to kindling.

By the end of the first volley three corvettes and a frigate had been sent tumbling towards the ground, and not a single one of the remaining vessels had escaped unscathed.

Archer watched as Lawrence grimaced. Four ships destroyed in a single volley did appear good, but three of those had been lightly armoured, lightly armed, and fit for little more than scouting. Somewhere out here was the Commodore's own light cruiser, the Wolfhound, and Archer realised what had made Lawrence so apprehensive; he struggled to believe anyone could be so calloused with the lives of their own men, especially after serving under Lawrence, but could Commodore Greyfax really be using the entire remainder of his fleet as little more than bait to have them reveal themselves? Of course he would; the man had spent his whole life chasing down the crown prince in the name of the rebellion, and now he knew that the figure he had hunted down for seven fruitless years had practically been delivered to him. The man wouldn't care who or what was sacrificed from this point onwards. If there was ever something that would rekindle the fires of the rebellion, it would surely be the capture or death of the crown prince of Albion. The remnants of the rebel forces, as well as new volunteers, would surely flock to Greyfax's banners if he succeeded here. It was all or nothing, and neither he nor Lawrence would accept surrender or flight. It ended here.

From that point on it was carnage, but not entirely one sided. The guns of the Sunbird, as well as the crew, had been extensively prepared with this exact situation in mind; ammo was laid out by the guns, powder was quickly and safely transported where it needed to be, and perhaps most importantly the crew had been drilled on the loading of guns when undertaking sharp turns. However, the initial advantage was gone. If Lawrence and Talwynn's conversations that Archer had overheard in the days prior were anything to go by then they probably had less than a minute after the first volley for the defenders to return fire. In response everything the Sunbird had that wasn't a cannon of some sort was firing at anything that moved with as much regularity as they could; the crew of the Sunbird weren't expecting the rifles to help destroy the enemy ships, but they would add to the noise of battle, the sudden and violent din hopefully disorienting the foe and buying the Sunbird just a few more seconds to get the second volley fired before the enemy could react.

Archer watched as a pair of puckle-guns and a dozen rifles fired into the balloon of the last corvette, the sheer volume of fire at such close range ripping the lightly-armoured balloon of the smaller vessel to shreds as it began to make a controlled descent towards the ground. By itself the bullets of the rifles and fast firing guns shouldn't have been able to damage the balloon extensively enough for the corvette to have been losing altitude that fast, but with the chaos all around him Archer wouldn't have been surprised if one of the Sunbird's carronades had blown a hole through the rebel ship's balloon without him noticing. There was a lot to try and take in through this darkness, after all.

Good luck, he thought to himself without a shred of sarcasm, you'll need it to land on the jagged rocks that make up this valley. The falling corvette attempted to fire off a few shots with the old cannons on its deck, but given the fact that the little vessel was veering and falling not a single one of the shots came close to hitting the Sunbird.

"Searchlights up!" Lawrence bellowed. "The Wolfhound is somewhere in this valley, and I don't want our first view of her to be the light from her cannons!"

A small contingent of crewmen made to obey, the large spotlights flickering a few times before turning on. They were slowly and methodically panned around the blackness of the valley, but for now there was no sign of the Wolfhound. It did, however, reveal a far more immediate threat; the enemy's heavy frigate, the Sly Fox, was turning to move directly towards the Sunbird so that it could give them a broadside.

"ALL LARBOARD GUNS, TARGER THE SLY FOX! ALL LARBOARD GUNS! IGNORE THE REMAINING FRIGATE UNLESS SHE APPEARS ON OUR STARBOARD!"

Archer was fairly certain he heard the sound of small propellors somewhere in the distance, but quickly passed it from his mind. How many other noises might have been mistaken for that in the midst of battle?

Then he stopped. What if it was something? What might use a small propellor and be useful in battle? What-

His eyes went wide as he raced to his captain's side.

"Lawrence!"

"Archer! Don't worry, we're better armed than the Sly Fox is, we'll be alright."

He shook his head hurriedly.

"No, it isn't that! Does the Wolfhound have monoplanes?"

Lawrence furrowed his brow.

"Monoplanes? Yes, a pair of them if reports are to be believed. Why-"

The man's eyes went wide as he came to the same realisation as Archer. Two monoplanes no doubt armed with several puckle-guns each were coming. He immediately began barking out further orders.

"LARBOARD PUCKLE-GUNS, IGNORE THAT LAST ORDER! LARBOARD CARRONADES, PREPARE TO GIVE THE SLY FOX A BROADSIDE! PUCKLE-GUNS, WATCH THE SKIES FOR MONOPLANES! I WANT OUR SEARCHLIGHTS TURNED SKYWARDS UNTIL WE SHOOT THE PAIR OF THEM DOWN!"

The men hurried to obey his orders, Talwynn barking out her own words of 'encouragement' towards the men to "Bloody well do as the captain says and stop shaking unless you want us all to fucking die here!". Small wonder, as the sounds of the propellers only continued to grow louder. It was a different noise entirely to the larger propellors on ships; where they emitted a dull and almost thrumming sound, the propellors of a monoplane were more like a whining noise. They were fast and agile, and with a few puckle-guns strapped to the front could be rather deadly, but they were also fragile. If the Sunbird's own puckle-guns could score a few direct hits then they'd go down like stones.

"Captain! Heavy frigate rapidly closing in!"

"Get ready to fire! Talwynn, on your orders they're to open fire on the approaching vessel, understood!"

"Aye Lawrence!" Came the bloodthirsty response. "You heard him, men! The second the words leave my mouth I want cannonballs flying!"

He saw Lawrence's lips twitch into the beginnings of a smile as the woman spoke. Her constant enthusiasm was almost infectious. Small wonder she'd made it as an officer.

"Archer?"

He turned to face the captain.

"Yes?"

"I hope you survive the coming moments."

Archer nodded with great sincerity.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Thank you, captain. Yourself as well."

"OPEN FIRE!"

Talwynn's bellowed command was met with a barrage of thundering carronades, but it seemed that the enemy were not content to simply sit there and take the blows. Rebel cannon shot raked across the deck of the Sunbird, killing and maiming nearly a dozen sailors from her crew. Archer did his best not to vomit as the viscera splattered across the deck, corpses quickly being pushed to the side by frantic though disciplined survivors as hooks were slung between the two ships, tethering them together and causing them to begin slowly circling one another.

"Take as many men as you need from the starboard side to replace the dead on the larboard! Get those guns ready to fire by yesterday!"

"Aye Captain Walker! Permission to fire when ready!"

"Granted! Fire as many volleys as it takes to cripple the Sly Fox and send her down to earth! Sergeant Rickard, I want your boys ready to cut the cables attaching us as soon as she starts to fall!"

"Aye sir! We'll have us disconnected as soon as we can whenever you give us the order!"

Lawrence nodded, turning once again. Archer did his best to try and drown out the noise of the carronades firing once again, a second volley being slung at the Sly Fox who fired back at almost the same time. More wood splintered and more men were cut down, but there was no time to even get them moved down to the mess to be looked after before the whining of the monoplanes picked up in intensity. A searchlight picked out one of the small flying machines, which began to strafe the Sunbird's balloon. Fuck, that's not good. But where's the second-

With a puck-puck-puck noise the rapid-firing guns on the front of the second monoplane arced their shots across the Sunbird's deck. Most shots did nothing more than indent into the polished deck of the old bird, but more than one man found himself struck by the bullets of the puckle-guns. The Sunbird's own puckle-guns rang out in response, firing into the blackness of the night and hoping to save their comrades from a second strafing run.

Lawrence made a noise that sounded as though he'd had the wind knocked out of him, then fell to one knee with a silent grimace as his right hand clutched at a rapidly reddening patch on his jacket to the left of his stomach. Archer watched on, horrified, as his friend and mentor sucked in deep breath after deep breath with an expression of fury on his face. Slowly, with an almost superhuman level of tenacity, he steadily rose back to his feet.

"If they want to kill me," he spat with ragged breaths, rallying the crew, "they'll need to try a hell of a lot harder than that!"

A raucous cheer went up from the men and women under his command, but Archer couldn't join them. Lawrence was wounded, badly as well, and he didn't care whether the man was putting on a brave face for the crew or was genuinely so adrenaline-filled he didn't realise how serious his wound was. He wasn't going to let him get killed like this.

"Captain Walker, you need medical attention!"

"I need victory, not distractions! When the Sly Fox goes down then I'll get medical attention, and not a moment before!"

The man grimaced again.

"And no, Assistant Engineer, you may not call up Mr Cooke at the moment. It isn't safe for him right now."

Archer brain whirred as he tried to think of a way to help Lawrence here.

"It isn't safe for us either. I understand your reluctance to step away from command at this crucial moment, but think of the blow to the Sunbird if you were to fall. Call Talon up to assist you now and you'll still be able to monitor the battle even if somewhat incapacitated. The men will take pride in watching their captain, wounded in the line of battle, being tended to by the very prince they are fighting to protect. Please, Lawrence."

There was a pregnant pause for a few moments before the ship shook under the weight of further cannonfire, a third volley of exchanged shot being followed swiftly by the screams of the wounded and the dying. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, Lawrence nodded twice.

"Very well. You may send for Talon. But if anything should happen to him as a result of this..."

Archer nodded with a grimace of his own. He knew he was putting Talon at risk here, but he couldn't afford to watch Lawrence die either.

"Understood, captain. Midshipman!"

A young man, more of a boy really, turned to look at Archer.

"Get Mr Cooke from the mess! The wounded are up here, not down there!"

"Aye, sir!"

Lawrence broke in with a ragged voice.

"And Midshipman?"

"Yes, Captain Walker sir?"

"Let him know that, should I command it, he is to make his way to the life-raft and make his way safely to the surface. Be polite, but make it clear that it is not a question. It is an order. Whilst he is a prince he is still technically an officer under my command, and as such I do arguably hold power over him. Archer?"

Archer nodded, already knowing what Lawrence was about to say.

"Aye. If I need to I'll run down and join him in the raft, and uphold my promise to you."

Lawrence nodded heavily, then turned back to the matter at hand. There was little time to waste on thank-yous and sentimentalities. The battle may yet be theirs, it certainly had gone well for the Sunbird until now, but Archer felt that the worst was yet to come for the RAN.

A pair of cannons fired towards the Sunbird from the rear, but failed to do any real damage.

"Ah," Lawrence started with a pained voice, "that explains where the remaining frigate went. We'll need to bring the old bird about and deal with her as soon as the Sly Fox goes down, unless we want to be distracted when the Wolfhound finally comes into view."

"Lawrie! I heard you were hurt, what-"

Cooke ran up to the two of them, coming to a standstill as he took in Lawrence's state. He swallowed hard, but Archer watched as something visibly shifted inside of him as he took charge of Lawrence.

"Okay. There's the stairs to the captain's quarters behind you. Archer, take off his coat jacket and lay it down so he won't be leaning against the wood."

"No, I need to remain standing! What will the men think if-"

"What will they think if you die, Captain Walker!"

The man's title was almost spat at him by Talon, giving both Lawrence and Archer pause. Their prince was in no mood for backtalking, not when the situation seemed to dire. Archer nodded once, and hurriedly took off Lawrence's coat. He lay it down as he was bid, then with the help of a deckhand moved him over to the stairs. The deckhand gave him a wink as he moved back to helping his crewmates with the fighting.

"I can do this myself from here."

Archer watched as Talon withdrew a knife and cut away Lawrence's shirt. He raised an eyebrow at the man.

"Won't he need a dress shirt like that?"

Talon scoffed good-naturedly.

"He won't miss it, trust me. Get me those forceps and bandages. The hydrogen peroxide as well."

Archer was given pause by the fact that a chunk of Lawrence seemed to be missing, but to the credit of his friend neither seemed to be given much pause. Well, Talon wasn't. Lawrence seemed to be avoiding looking, whether to order the crew or to ignore what had happened to him Archer wasn't sure. Not that he would blame him either way, of course. For a few seconds there seemed to be a lull in the action, through which all Archer could focus on was Talon's deft hands cleaning and bandaging his mentor's wound, and the pained breaths that his captain drew in response to the prince's ministrations. However, as with all things, the few seconds of peace were gone far too soon.

"They're coming around for another strafing run!"

Lawrence smirked as a searchlight illuminated not one, but both of the monoplanes as they approached.

"Send them to hell!"

The Sunbird's puckle-guns opened at the same time as the first monoplane's did, but where the monoplane did little more than dent the hull of the Sunbird the returning fire sent the little single-propellered craft spinning towards them and out of control. Luckily the plane seemed to do no real damage to the vessel as it impacted, but as they pitched a little Archer realised that there would almost certainly be a large gap in the walkways towards the starboard propeller. Ah well, it won't take long for some rigging to be laid down to act as a makeshift passage if needs be.

"We got one of the bastards! Where's the other gone?"

"Tracking with the searchlight now, sir!"

"Keep your eyes on her! She can't have the fuel to hang around here so she'll be headed back home to the Wolfhound!"

Sure enough, as the searchlight pierced the darkness of the night and tracked the small monoplane across the Windblown Gardens that they were fighting over, the Wolfhound finally came into view. Lord above, but she was large. She must have been twice as long as the Sunbird at least, perhaps as many as three times as large, and though Archer may not have had privy to her schematics he knew that she was surely brimming with guns. Lawrence was right; they needed to finish this bloody bout quickly and focus entirely on the Wolfhound, or else she'd blow the Sunbird out of the sky.

"No she won't," Lawrence replied, making Archer aware that he'd been speaking aloud, "Greyfax wants the pleasure of killing Talon himself, or otherwise to take our prince captive. He won't send us to the bottom, not when he can cripple us and then board our decks. We haven't the manpower to stop him if he gets close enough to board. We have to keep our distance."

The captain seemed to come out of whatever semi-conscious state he'd been in as he spoke those words, his gaze whipping around.

"First Mate! First Mate! Stefan, where the hell are you!"

A deckhand called out from somewhere amongst the throng moving ammunition around.

"He's dead, Captain! The Sly Fox got him with cannon shot!"

Lawrence let out a string of curses and slammed his fist into the deck. Turning as much as he could in his prone state he twisted to face Talwynn.

"Gunnery Officer! Have the sixty-eight pounders track the Wolfhound! And give the Sly Fox one last volley!"

"Aye sir, took the words right out of my mouth! Forth volley, fire!"

"Sergeant, cut the lines!"

"On it! You heard the man, cut the bloody lines!"

Half a dozen marines rushed forwards alongside the Sergeant, each one of them hefting what looked to be large axes and swinging at the taught ropes and wires that now connected the Sunbird to the Sly Fox. With a series of twanging noises nearly drowned out by booming cannonfire, the Sunbird slipped free of her foe.

Almost at that very moment there was a thunderous boom, even louder than the roaring of the carronades, and Archer hit the deck. He quickly attempted to right himself with little success when he realised that the flash of bright light had come from the Sly Fox, and as such the Sunbird had taken down yet another foe. The Sunbird's manoeuvres and hooks had positioned them to give a fifth full broadside to the similarly sized vessel, and a full half of the Sunbird's guns had answered Lawrence's only slightly strangled call of "AGAIN!" with gusto, sending what was left of the already decimated ship to kingdom come.

Now Archer was no gunnery expert, but by the sheer size of the explosion and the fact that even that many guns shouldn't have brought down a heavy frigate in such a spectacular fashion, he reckoned that the powder magazines of the Sly Fox had been struck. Poor bastards. For a brief moment the blackness of the small hours of the morning were lit up by a second sun, and Archer had to shield his face not just from the light but also the splintering wood that was launched outwards by the gigantic explosion.

The sunbird rocked and pitched somewhat as the shockwave roiled across the valley, and the sensation sent Archer tumbling to his feet. He winced as he collided with the floor, certain that he'd have some fresh bruises come the end of the day. Looking at Lawrence, though the man was still standing, he was reminded that if he did get through the battle with little more than bruises then he was a very lucky man indeed. He had no wish to feel what a gunshot wound felt like anytime soon. Talon rushed to his side and helped him up, but Archer waved him away.

"Thank you Talon, but Lawrence needs you right now. Keep him stable, please."

He wasn't sure if he was asking, commanding, or begging Talon to do as he said, but the man did it regardless. With a curt but not unkind nod he moved back to Lawrence's side, tipping a small amount of water down the man's throat since the captain's voice was starting to become hoarse from shouting orders.

When all of this had happened only some twenty or thirty minutes had passed, but the rebel flotilla was reduced to a fraction of what it was. The only ships that seemed to be unscathed were the light cruiser, which had only lost one of its monoplanes, and the remaining frigate. Whilst the lone remaining escort was relatively unharmed it was clear that they hadn't the stomach for a fight after watching the complete and total destruction of their comrades. They turned and sailed back towards the Wolfhound, evading the sparse fire from the Sunbird as she passed them by. When Archer felt the shockwave of an explosion far beneath him he knew that luck had not been on the side of the little corvette that had tried to make landfall, a little ship he had almost forgotten about in the din of the battle, and it sapped the resolve of the final frigate even further.

Archer let out a sigh of relief, but the actual sensation was short lived. The Sunbird's hull was breached, her balloon had been raked by gunfire, and her captain lay wounded on the deck looking like some hero out of a tragic painting. There was little doubt in all of their minds that this fight was not over, not with the Wolfhound closing in.

Fuck, this is going to be brutal.