Free Down to the Sea by William R. Forstchen

of’gunfire was continuous, the shock waves rippling over them with sharp intensity.
    There was no longer any doubt in his mind that two fleets were in action. He caught glimpses of sparkling shells arcing upward, disappearing into the darkness, then seconds later causing flashes on the water as the shells exploded. The only question left now was who, and in his mind there was no doubt.
    It was the Kazan.
    He had to make a decision. Continue to press in, get a close-up look, or come about and carry the precious information back. The Kazan had been found at last, and, given the similarity of the ships engaged, they were at war with one another.
    “Damn!”
    Richard saw it a second later, flashing by underneath, illuminated by the flash of an explosion…a flyer.
    Startled, he pulled up, looking back over his shoulder. Behind him Sean had unfastened the lock holding his gatling in place and started to swing it around.
    “Don’t shoot!” Richard shouted. “He might not have seen us.”
    “We suspected they could fly, but did you see the size of that thing?”
    Richard wasn’t sure. It was hard to judge in the darkness.
    He headed upward, but there were no clouds nearby.
    Three more flyers slipped underneath. Watching carefully, he judged them to be five hundred or more feet below. Then one of them started to turn.
    O’Donald shouted a warning even as Richard pulled into a sharp climb.
    “It’s lining up on us!”
    Height or speed? He hung on to the stick for several seconds, frozen with indecision, and spared a quick glance back. He spotted a flicker of movement, starlight illuminating the white wings. It was hard to judge the distance, but a guess told him it was several hundred yards back. The plane was within range if they had machine guns, and given the carnage going on straight ahead, it was idiotic to assume otherwise.
    He nosed over, going into a steep dive that in seconds put the scout plane up to its maximum speed of ninety miles an hour. The ocean, though several thousand feet below, seemed to rush up, and the raging battle seemed perilously close.
    “Where is he?” Richard cried.
    “I can’t tell, lost him when you dived. Next time warn me!”
    A flash of light snapped past.
    Time seemed to freeze. He remembered lectures at the academy, talking with old sailors, veterans of the Great War, about what it was like. The shock of realization that for the first time someone was shooting at you, trying to kill you…and that in another instant the world would continue to spin on in its grim course, and you would not be part of it.
    Another flash shot past. Sean cursed, steam hissing as he opened the cock. The’gatling spun to life, spitting flame, the vibration blurring vision. Richard wondered if the chocks that shut the gun down would work if Sean should happen to swing it due aft, where his shots would shred the propeller.
    He still couldn’t see the instruments in the darkness. Sense alone told him that he was pushing the plane beyond any speed he had ever flown before. Chopping back the throttle, he pulled up sharply, the control stick shaking a violent tattoo, wires humming, one parting with a riflelike crack.
    “Where the hell is he?”
    There was no reply.
    Richard spared a quick glance back over his shoulder and was stunned by the sight of Sean hanging half out of the plane, arms locked around the breech of his gun.
    Richard leveled out, and Sean swore wildly, swinging his legs back into the plane.
    “Damn it, why aren’t you strapped in?” Richard screamed.
    In the starlight, he could see Sean’s terrified grimace.
    “Where is he?”
    “How am I supposed to know?” Sean gasped.
    Completely disoriented, Richard looked around. There was a flash directly below him, a mushrooming cloud of fire spreading out across the sea, the explosion soaring up, the shock of it rocking his plane. He felt a shuddering shriek, the nearby passage of a shell sounding like an out-of-control train rushing past.
    He