Generation Z: The Queen of War by Peter Meredith

Author:Peter Meredith [Meredith, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-07-17T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Mike Gunter

The five Ex-Corsairs on the forty-four foot, Red Pill were a sullen, surly lot who did not like the idea of taking their orders from a mute teenager with a thin “baby beard.” Mike had heard that muttered more than once; it’s what they called him behind his back.

They had almost no respect for him and even less for the timid, skittish hodgepodge of a squad that he was supposed to lead onto the island. They huddled like a flock of frightened sheep below deck and he was secretly afraid that he wouldn’t be able to get them to come up when the time came. If, by some miracle, he could get them to come ashore, they would undoubtedly wither under heavy fire and become little more than soft targets.

If Stu was dealing with the same sort of abject fear, Mike couldn’t fault him too terribly for wanting to go alone. It was hard enough going into battle without being a party to useless slaughter. But a one-man suicidal attack was not the answer.

A better plan was the answer, but they were still following crazy Jillybean. It didn’t matter whether she was locked up or not, she had set this in motion and now they were stuck dealing with the fallout with dwindling resources. With each battle they lost more of the strongest among them until all that was left was a pathetic little group, whispering endless prayers to a dozen different gods.

It was sad—and yet, Mike’s eyes shone and his smile was the only gleam in the dark night. He was in command of a ship, heading into battle. As terrible as this was, it brought something out of him, something hungry and just a tad evil. A part of him was eager for the clash of guns, the whistle of bullets in the rigging, the moment to moment exaggerated feel of life that only war produced.

Every second in battle meant he would be within inches of death—and it was wonderful in a terrible, terrible way. Mike had discovered the heady sensation the day before as he raced into the smoke, sandwiched between two over-powering enemies. His death had been almost certain; still he relished the moment and the battle cry that boomed from his throat had just sprung from him, unexpectedly.

He’d also discovered that land battles could not compare to sea battles. On land, fighting was too static, too unthinking, too plodding.

Battle on board a sailboat took place in four dimensions. The usual, easily measurable dimensions: height, width, length were always of exaggerated importance on board a sailing ship and added to them was the fluid nature of time. A good captain saw time differently than ordinary people. He had to see into six possible futures at once. He had to know where his boat would be in every possible future. What if he tacked into the wind? Or luffed up? Or let out more sail? What if the wind shifted direction or suddenly gusted heavily?

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