Chapter 11
Biggles used the trip to the airfield to demonstrate Gregor's friendly nature and usefulness. Mors was driving the open four seater car, his own; Irma was in the front beside him noting how to drive it. Lord Greystoke, who preferred to be called Tarzan, was in the back telling the airman of his animal friends in the jungles of Africa. Gregor was flying above the automobile.
"Here is one more animal friend for you Tarzan." Said Biggles as he signaled the following insectoid.
"Now all of you observe." Commanded the pilot as he stood up on the seat of the moving car.
Irma looked back while Mors maintained present speed and adjusted his rear view mirror.
The huge bug swooped down to hover just above the back seat. Biggles stretched out his arms as Gregor's limbs clutched his torso and lifted his exuberant friend out of the car into the air. Captain Mors screeched the car to a halt. A highly vocalised thrill was Biggles' reaction as he was carried one hundred feet above then hauled around in a slow loop to sight-see the area before Gregor spiraled down and placed his passenger back in the seat.
"A roller coaster couldn't do any better." Biggles uttered as he caught his breath.
"You're a pilot Biggles." Said Mors. "Flying is normal for you."
"You're a man of the air yourself Captain." Replied Biggles. "Perhaps you could enjoy a ride in Gregor's clutches?"
Mors continued the car trip to the airfield. "Another time. Soon it will be me taking you all for a flight."
Biggles nudged Tarzan. "I'd like to see your elephant friend do that."
The airship stood moored outside the hangar. Irma Vep let out a sigh of wonder at the trip ahead. Mors operated a dashboard radio while driving and relayed a command in Hindustani. All passengers expected a walk across the tarmac to board the giant vehicle, until a ramp lowered down from the gondola and rested on the runway.
"Tell Gregor to follow us in." Said Mors to Biggles.
After the instruction was relayed the car drove up the ramp and came to a halt in the front gallery; Gregor flying in and settling by its side. The ramp closed up behind them.
Irma, Biggles and Gregor were in awe at the furniture and decor of the gondola's interior. Tarzan was already used to it.
"Captain Brieux." Mors called his Executive Officer. "Are we ready to attach the plane?"
"Yes Captain." Said the French aeronaut.
"Good; we will proceed at once and then lift off.
These are my guests. Have Lindo show them to their cabins."
"Yes Captain."
Lindo was one of the many turbaned Indian crewmen. His minimal shock at the sight of Gregor revealed that the crew were used to strange and alien encounters.
Biggles stayed behind to see the plane attachment. The Luftpirat lifted and hovered above a lone bi-plane on the runway then, with utmost precision, lowered until ready clamps snapped shut on grips welded to the plane's fuselage. When the airship lifted the bi-plane was carried along with it. It was a Sopwith Camel complete with Vickers machine guns in the front, a Lewis gun on the cockpit side and Coopers Bombs under its belly. Brieux assured Biggles that special technical advances were made to this plane so that it could be started in mid air without a build up of momentum on the runway.
After settling in their cabins the League members engaged their sense of wonder at, not only the sight of the landscape from high above, but the Luftpirat's interior. The decor was a mixture of European cruise ship style and exotic Eastern artwork. In the control room they all joined Mors and Brieux as they commanded the crew, which was made up mostly of turbaned Indians.
Biggles made out some of the crews' individual functions: one was predicting weather patterns; another was navigating; a third was using instrumentation and reports to monitor mechanical efficiency; communications was clearly another's responsibility and as for the others, they were operating and observing instrumentation that he could not fathom. He was advised by Mors not to enquire, as explanation would be long, ponderous and would require hours of following explanations on top of the first.
"We will be crossing The Channel soon." Announced Mors. " So enjoy the view of the ground below while you have it."
M designated Biggles as leader of the League but while they were on the Luftpirat, Mors was overall Captain.
Viewing both land and sea from above was captivating for The League passengers. Each were given a further treat when Mors showed them an inbuilt telescope that could focus on individuals on the ground, they could be seen as if the viewer was ten feet away.
The place to start looking hard was along the highway from Paris to the Argonne front. When Tarzan heard about this he remembered that his son Korak was serving with the Americans on that battlefield.
Word was received by radio that the individual of concern had foolishly left his escort behind and was speeding onward on his motorcycle. Clouds were over the designated portion of highway monitored; this forced the Luftpirat to fly low to watch for the motorcycle. After one hour it was found: fast vehicle; lone rider. The motorcycle was a Curtiss, an American make; this was their man and the probable subject of a kidnapping: given his current solitary state; that should be soon.
"These clouds are getting thicker." Said Mors. "It will be difficult to maintain our watch for the enemy. I want eyes on the ground."
"What do you mean?" Asked Biggles.
"We will land briefly, then someone will drive the car along the highway at a discreet distance until the enemy makes their move, then report by radio."
Irma Vep stepped forward to volunteer. "I can drive the car myself and operate the radio."
Mors agreed. Biggles assessed the situation and its potential for trouble. "Lord Greystoke, could you go with her please."
Tarzan gathered his bow and quiver of arrows then got into the front passenger seat alongside the cat burglar.
"Remember." Said Biggles. "Do not try to stop or overtake him. He must not see you. When the enemy makes their move then you can show yourselves and act."
A field provided the hovering point for the airship. Irma started the engine as the ramp behind lowered; it was far longer than before. The attached plane would have been crushed if the Luftpirat was any closer to the ground.
"Here we go." Yelled Irma as she reversed the car neatly down the ramp to the field. With all four wheels on Earth she engaged the forward gears, drove the car over the grass to the highway and turned to follow the motorcycle.
With the ramp lifted back, the Luftpirat ascended to the cloudy sky. Scant patches in the misty layer allowed the crew to maintain an irregular observation of the motorcycle.
"Receiving first communication from the car Captain," Said the radio operator.
"Thank you." Answered Mors as he took the speaker. "What is your status Irma?" He said into the device.
Irma Vep's voice blared through the amplifier. "We have attained a disceet distance. Subject is traveling without any notable change. He hasn't noticed us."
"Good." Said Mors into the speaker. "Maintain distance and surveillance."
"Ok." Came the reply.
Mors figured the predicted abduction will happen within an hour. One of the Unit 11 zeppelins will appear to collect Tom Swift. The Luftpirat can then follow it to its base of operations. Biggles and Gregor were to consider themselves on alert.
Clouds dominated the firmament. They were above, below, south, north, east and west; of many shapes and sizes, with various shades of dark grey to milky white. Navigation remained simple despite not seeing the sun or stars, just occasional glimpses of the horizon, but observation of the subject and surrounding sky was difficult.
After half an hour, the sky remaining the same, the next call came in.
"Captain, do you read me?" Irma's voice blared through the amplifier.
"Loud and clear Irma." Said Mors into the speaker.
"The motorcycle has deviated from the main highway and is going up a hill."
"Do you know why?"
"There was a strange bright light on the hilltop he seems compelled to investigate."
"Hold where you are Irma."
Mors commanded his crew to look extra hard for other air traffic while steering the Luftpirat to that hill.
Brieux took a call from the lookout post on top of the Ship's hull.
"Captain." He said. "The lookout has spotted what seems to be a huge zeppelin floating in wait just south of that hill."
The crew redirected their surveillance instrumentation to that point and almost instantly confirmed the sighting.
"Captain, it's more than twice our size." announced the crewman.
"All the better to follow it." Said Brieux.
"Full halt. Hold here." Commanded Mors.
The Luftpirat stopped and hovered among the clouds.
"Come in Irma." Mors spoke into the speaker.
"Yes Captain." Came the reply.
"We have spotted the enemy zeppelin. This is a trap for the young scientist. Do what you can for him."
"On our way Captain." The sound of the car speeding off could be heard over the radio.
Mors turned to his surveillance crew. "Can we focus the scope on that hilltop without being seen by the huge zeppelin?"
"Where working on it Captain." Was the reply.
A few minutes later came the result Mors was waiting for. "We have it Captain."
A look into the scope revealed the hilltop. Although cloud repeatedly rolled past the lens blocking the view for a few seconds at a time. Mors could see the woman with the Luger pistol; the young motorcyclist with a strange rifle and two ambushers who looked like they got struck by lightning. What interested the luftpirate was the upright sarcophagus with a steel loop on its top. Mors deduced that the captured scientist would be bundled into the sarcophagus to be lifted by aerial crane into the large zeppelin, which would take its captive to Unit 11.
Executive Officer Brieux took a blowing communication hose and listened. "Captain Mors, the lookout has just spotted a spy basket hanging from the clouds directly above us."
The luftpirate took on a look of dire seriousness. "Hard to starboard, fast."
Biggles felt the ship lurch to the side as the helmsman quickly moved the craft to the side. An ship wide alarm blared, telling the crew to brace for emergency maneuvers. The bi-plane pilot could not stay on his feet, he fell to the floor. Crewman remained at their posts, they were used to this sudden shifting.
An explosion sounded from the Earth below, a series of similar sounds followed.
One of the crew yelled out after viewing his instrumentation. "Captain. We are being bombarded from above."
"Battle stations." Commanded Mors. "Battle stations."
Several crewmen rushed to alternative posts and instrumentation.
"Forward, full engine." Commanded Mors to the helmsman. "Seek out an updraught. We have to ascend to the height of our attackers."
"Captain." Yelled Biggles. "Gregor can fly above your ship and deflect any bomb that will drop on you."
Mors turned to the big insect. "Gregor, can you do that?" A nod of his head was the response.
"And do something about that spy basket." Mors added. Gregor again responded affirmatively.
"He can do those and then some." said Biggles.
A reserve crewman opened a hatch in the gallery's floor. Gregor sprouted his wings and flew out. The hatch door closed.
"James. I need you to get in the Sopwith Camel, fly it and seek out the enemy's position, then take what action you see fit to help us."
"But I need a runway." Said Biggles.
"Captain Brieux. Take him to the plane."
The French officer took Biggles to the deck above the attached Bi-plane. Mors continued commanding the Ship.
"Monsieur. You do not need a runway." Assured Brieux while opening what seemed to be a drop chute to the Camel's cockpit. "When you're in; start the engine. It won't require cranking. We've done some modifications. After we detach it, the plane becomes a flying machine within a few seconds of it free falling. You should find flying upwards much easier in our souped up special."
Biggles trepidly climbed into the chute and dropped into the Sopwith cockpit. After catching his breath he started the engine and saw the propellers spinning at full throttle in an instant.
"Good luck Monsuier Biggles." Yelled Brieux as closed the chute door.
With his goggles and seat belt on, Biggles felt queasy as the clamps retracted and the plane fell; it maintained its horizontal posture as he tried to treat the falling vehicle like a flying machine. Designed with most of its weight at the front, the Camel soon tipped its nose to the ground and began to dive. Biggles gained control of the plane soon after and pulled out of the dive. He was flying this thing now and began his ascent to the enemy above.
Gregor flew just above the airship'shull giving a brief wave to the lookout on top. Both saw the spy baskets dangling just below the above cloud layer. Yes there were two of them; they were far apart; which means there were two zeppelins trying to bomb the Luftpirat. The spy baskets were shaped like fish with the single crewman in a cockpit were the dorsal fin would've been. They were telephoning their target's position and one dangling fish was manouvering above the Luftpirat then came to a halt. The spy gave a firm vocal signal into his telephone mouthpiece and the bombs fell out of the clouds.
The luftpirats hull was metal but just one bomb would rupture it and ignite the volatile gases inside; it would cripple the ship if not destroy it utterly. A much needed evasive turn commenced but Gregor realised several of the bombs would hit.
The insectoid flew fast underneath the deadly payload hoping his personal slipstream would deflect the bombs. It didn't work; they were too heavy and fast. He was going to have to get up close and touch them. Gregor's multi-facet eyes could pinpoint each falling bomb with accuracy: he could,ve caught each one; but he feared they would go off in his face. His flight brought himself alongside the nearest bomb; a light nudge with his front limb, altered its course from a certain impact to a near miss. Gregor found he could calculate instantaneously the downward trajectory before and after his interference, he nudged each bomb consecutively and in a matter of seconds deflected the entire deadly payload away from the fleeing ship. The ground below became an anvil of war's thunderous hammer.
A look up revealed the spy basket was moving to again bring itself above the Luftpirat. The other spy basket was positioning itself to drop an interception payload on the airship's current course. Gregor flew upward to deal with that basket. His course took him to a point horizontal with the dangling fish he didn't want his approach to be seen. The other spy would be aware of him and would thus be relaying a warning from telephone to zeppelin, then to other zeppelin then down to the fish's telephone. Lack of believability would delay the message.
This was the one post on a zeppelin a crewman could smoke and this one was lighting up as soon as he finished the previous cigarette. His eyes were on the Luftpirat below. Gregor darted towards him as the telephone rang. The smoking crewman took the call then screamed as the giant insect picked him up out of the cockpit and threw him into the cloudy void below. He did not have a parachute just a maddening scream as he plummeted down. Gregor severed the telephone line then flew away as the spy basket was winched up.
The occupant of the other spy basket drew a pistol as he screamed into the phone. He managed a brief look down then gave the signal for another bombardment of the target below then continued his plea to be winched up, he saw the monstrous looking gremlin approach.
Gregor heard a pistol firing and felt a bullet bounce off his exoskeleton, he flew fast and brushed past the spy basket cockpit, buffeting the airman. It took a few seconds for the observer to re-orient himself while the insectoid flew back landed on the dangling fish and severed two of the four suspension cables. The spy basket jerked ninety degrees to the left, nearly pouring its occupant out to a long fall.
Sheer panic overtook the German upon close up sight of the giant bug. He had dropped his pistol. Gregor could have squatted him dead then and there, but a fresh payload of bombs began to drop towards the Luftpirat below. The insect man spat out digestive fluid onto each of the two remaining suspension cables, then darted downwards to deal with the bombs.
The crewman clung onto the tipped spy basket for his life while yelling at the top of his lungs to be winched up. After a minute, where everyone must have been preoccupied with the bomb dropping, the metallic fish began to ascend. Whatever relief the crewman felt was overrun by horror when one of the two intact suspension cables snapped. Only his grip on a loose belt at the cockpit rim stopped him from falling to his death. He then understood the reason for the bug's digestive fluid on the cables; it was acidic saliva for breaking down seized prey into digestible matter; and it was eating through the cables. Smoke and bubbles emanated from the tainted stretch of the last suspension cable.
A pre-emptive yell bellowed from the desperate man's lungs as he was winched through the clouds. He saw the welcome darkness of the zeppelin's gondola when the cable snapped. When he fell with the spy basket, he could yell no more.
Gregor's downward speed was faster than the falling bombs. Although the timing of their drop was born of desperation, a few would hit the moving Luftpirat. He would use his keen multi- faceted vision again and judge those bombs that would hit the metal hull then deflect them. A slight nudge with his limbs and the bombs fell clear. Gregor seized one of the metal explosives in his pincer and carried it to his next task.
The Luftpirat had found an updraught and was ascending. Biggles was also climbing high. They would both soon breach the upper stratus and face those zeppelins.
As Gregor expected, the other spy basket lowered beneath the cloud layer with a repaired phone line. Two men were in the big fish now; one with binoculars, the other with a rifle. It was cramped but someone had to continue the observation while the other could deal with the reported aerial monster. They each lit a cigarette while Gregor approached, then they saw him. Both cigarettes fell from their mouths. The rifleman aimed at the oncoming gremlin. Gregor swerved to avoid the bullet. He did, but subsequent shots were fast and many. One bullet hit his exoskeleton, it didn't penetrate but it hurt.
Gregor flew under the spy basket to keep out of the line of fire, then darted upwards. They would hear him coming. A quick semi-circular side trip during his climb allowed the insectoid to be briefly seen by the alert crewman. A rifle shot fired at the space Gregor was a millisecond before. The man-insect appeared on the other side of the dangling fish and hovered level to it, for a second he had their backs. They saw him and as the rifle was moved awkwardly in the cramped cockpit, Gregor hurled the bomb then darted away. As the nose of bomb's nose hit the metal fish, the impact fuse detonated. The explosion splattered the spy basket and its two occupants to the four winds along with a burst of fire.
Neither zeppelin had eyes below the cloud line now; they will not know that their target is rising to height at there level for a face to face engagement. Gregor flew into the upper stratus to aid in the fight.
Captain Mors felt his fighting spirit lift as the Luftpirat rode the updraught to the stratus above. He had narrowly missed being bombed into fiery oblivion from above: the man-insect's contribution to his crew's safety was much appreciated. Soon he will face his attacker.
"Turn three degrees starboard." He commanded. "I want to be facing them when we see them."
Gregor's contact with the spy baskets was observed. They know roughly where the enemy is now, and they won't see the Luftpirat coming. Biggles will clear the stratus much the same time.
Clouds of grey and white blanketed the view for a second as the Luftpirat rose through the misty layer. Once cleared The crew found themselves facing two zeppelins; Mors recognised them from his brief moments within the German military. They were the Fafnir and the Fasolt and the former was commanded by Captain von Gorian.
Although German zeppelins usually had numeric identities, the reign of Kaiser Homunculus brought back taking names from German legend. The two giants from The Ring cycle had the honours here.
Mors' spyglass revealed their armaments: each zeppelin had a nest on the top of their gasbag with three crewmen; two of these had a Parabellum mounted machine gun; the other he couldn't see.
"Set up the Lewis gun on the port side of our front gallery." He commanded.
Two crewmen brought in the incendiary machine gun and spent a minute mounting it on the window sill.
Both zeppelins turned their broadside to the Luftpirat; they couldn't bomb an enemy that wasn't below them but now both Parabellums on each nest could pelt the Luftpirat with heavy ballistics. All four machine guns concentrated on the metal hull; they couldn't pierce it, but each thud produced a loud clang. Virtually each crewman had to block their ears to avoid the sound of a metallic rainstorm.
Biggles plane cleared the stratus to see the situation. The battle had begun. The daring pilot steered his plane towards the Fasolt.
Captain Mors and his crew heard a thunderous noise punctuating that of the Parabellum hits. It was mortar fire, that was the weapon employed by the third man in each nest. These mortar shells had timed fuses as well as impact fuses, those that would not hit the target would explode near it. One such explosion smashed the thick glass on the front gallery and sent the shards flying into the interior. Lindo rushed to two crewmen blinded by the glass shower, they had finished erecting the Lewis gun. After telling the crewman to stay down, he fired the weapon at the Fafnir.
No aerial stability could be maintained; whether those mortar shells hit or missed they buffeted the Luftpirat this way and that. Those shots that hit tore panels off the metal hull. Mors noticed some torn away panel fall, confirming the dreadful news of the impacts he heard. Those points without a panel were dangerous spots of vulnerability. A second hit with a mortar shell at those spots would definately produce a major conflagration of our volatile gases, destroying the airship utterly. Parabellum fire on those spots may also bring that disastrous effect.
"Turn the ship ninety degrees starboard." Ordered Mors. "They mustn't keep firing on our damaged side."
This command had begun to be executed when a mortar shot hit one of the wing screws, damaging it. Black smoke spat from its hub.
"Captain." Yelled a steersman. "That hit on our wing screw has slowed our turn severely."
"Keep trying." Mors replied.
With their vulnerable side exposed longer their situation was bad. Some Parabellum gunfire from the Fafnir entered the gondola; it tore through the glass casing and killed a crewman manning his post. Other crewmen quickly hit the floor as following machine gun fire sprayed the inside.
Parabellums in the Fafnir nest fired with relish until one gunner realised he was the only one firing.
"Don't stop now." he said to his partner. "We've got them ducking for cover. They're not moving. They're a sitting duck."
A look to his side turned his confidence to horror. A dark shelled being, tall as a man but with all the physical traits of an insect had snipped open his fellow gunner's throat with his frontal pincers. The mortar man hadn't noticed the bug intruder and was about to fire his weapon as per usual when a bug forearm swung into his back, knocking the artillery man out of the nest, the momentum sent him into a helpless roll down the zeppelin's circumference towards an inevitable fall to his death.
Gregor moved on the last gunner; who swung the Parabellum to aim at the monstrosity. A swipe from the pincered forearm knocked the machine gun off its fixed tripod and out of the nest. The gunner reached for his Luger pistol but a barbed tarsus skewered his chest before even touching it.
Captain Mors watched, through his spyglass, Gregor throwing the mortar and remaining Parabellum out of the nest then depart.
Firing from the Fasalt continued for a short while until the gunners noticed the Sopwith Camel shooting incendiary bullets into the zeppelin's side.
Biggles had achieved the perfect flight angle to fire the bi-plane's Lewis gun at the Fasolt's gasbag. Several volleys of incendiary bullets hit the large target when Biggles, with a sense of stupendous victory, saw a small explosion. Now the fire will spread and multiply in a matter of seconds, that was an expectation that dampened when the fire snuffed out without spreading.
He would have tried again, but a Parabellums in the top nest made him a target. Biggles swerved his plane to a course underneath the gasbag and under the Parabellum range. Crewmen in the Fasolt's gondola could be seen setting up Maxim machine guns to shoot him down. Biggles dived underneath the gondola then leveled out to fly outwards past the zeppelin.
Captain Mors noticed that his Lewis gun had only minor effect on the Fafnir gasbag. Lindo fired volley after volley into it with only little fires breaking out that were extinguished after only a second. Unit 11 must have invented a new innovation to stop fire spreading and put it out before they ignite all the hydrogen.
Biggles also realised this new lack of vulnerability for zeppelins and decided to make his assault on the gasbag more profound. He flew back towards it on a level with the gun nest. One of the Parabellums fired his way. Biggles had to work fast, those guns can be swung while firing. The young pilot had become a crack shot with the Vickers machine gun while flying. Parabellum bullets shot a stream only a foot left of his wing, when the gunner tried to shift his aim, he fired low and the bullets went under the approaching Sopwith. Biggles flew with precision and got the hostile gunner into his sights. Bullets spat out of the Vickers and tore into their target, the impact propelling him out of the nest.
Turning the Vickers on the other two nest occupants was attempted but they wisely ducked under the ramparts. Biggles steered the plane upwards and achieved a reasonable height above the Fasolt. The remaining two crewmen in the nest re-emerged; while the mortar man just observed, the gunner turned his Parabellum away from the Luftpirat and aimed it at the Sopwith Camel above; he had to crouch while firing. A stream of bullets tore through the bi-plane's wing.
Biggles pleaded with his strafed aircraft. "Come on; just hold together for a few seconds more."
He was almost at the crucial point above the Fasolt when he saw the mortar man swiftly put on a parachute and leave the nest for a desperate run down the arc of the zeppelin hull. That guy knew what was about to happen. The bi-plane reached the appointed spot and Biggles released two Coopers bombs in succession. He wanted to swerve back and drop more but his damaged wing looked as if it would not manage it.
The Parabellum gunner saw the bombs falling and ducked under the ramparts for cover despite the obvious futility of that act. The first bomb hit the nest directly blowing that small fortress to oblivion.
Whistling its last few metres of descent, the second bomb hit the zeppelin's top surface, detonating with an explosion that near instantaneously ignited several hydrogen cells. Fire burst out of the hull as its structure was torn away with each following explosion. This was the profound hit Biggles was trying to affect; no innovation could extinguish or contain these major conflagrations. Within seconds the explosions multiplied and pursued the mortar man running along the doomed hull for his life. He got to his point on the airship's arc where gravity would clear him away from the all consuming inferno; a desperate jump was achieved before that portion of the hull exploded where his feet were a millisecond ago. The flames leapt out and incinerated him just as his fall commenced.
Fiery explosions continued as fast as a line of dominoes fell and they intensified as the front, rear portside and starboard each became a mass of flames. Further conflagrations ripped through the gondola; all sections became a sudden inferno. The entire crew were dead in an instant.
Captain Mors and his crew felt the burst of hot air along with a shockwave that buffeted the Luftpirat.
Biggles also felt the centrifugal force of those escalating explosions. He was clear of the leaping fires but the energy tore at his damaged wing; it broke, collapsing into a mess of torn fibre and loose wires that held the now useless appendage like a dangling streamer. No directional control was possible now.
A small bang brought attention to a fire in the main engine. The fuel line must have jarred loose during the zeppelin explosion underneath. Fire soon spread throughout the front of the Sopwith Camel, it would reach the cockpit in seconds. There was a parachute under the seat but Biggles was blinded by black smoke flooding out of the engine. A grope for it was cut short when a flame burnt his hand. It was almost on him, he could feel the heat as the fire squeezed through the dashboard.
The doomed pilot drew his pistol and brought it to his head, he was going to spare himself an agonising death by fire. A sharp slap knocked the firearm out of his hand. Biggles felt himself lifted out of the cockpit, his seat belt severed. Familiar limbs seized his torso and carried him away. It was Gregor, lifting him clear of the burning plane which began its spiral course downwards, a trail of black smoke in its wake.
Captain Mors turned his attention away from the Fasolt, it was now a burning hulk that began its fall to Earth. The luftpirate prayed that no village, farm or cottage was underneath.
"Turn twelve degrees starboard." He commanded. "Can we do that with our current damage?"
"Yes Captain." Replied the steersman.
Mors turned to another crewman, all who were alive and unwounded had resumed their posts. "Is our forward maneuverability in any way impaired?"
"No Captain, that is intact."
"And our backward capability." Asked Mors. "How's that?"
After a brief confirmation with the instrument panel, the crewman said. "It is good Captain."
Mors turned his spyglass on the Fafnir. They had tried to re-man the gunnery nest but it would have to be re-armed. Maxim machine gun were fired from the gondola, but their effect was next to nothing, only occasional volley into the gallery threatened the crew. The zeppelin turned around, it was going to flee.
Captain von Gorian was spotted through the spyglass, he was watching Mors through his binoculars. The two captains watched each other like two pitbulls about to fight.
No von Gorian." Yelled Mors. "I will not let you walk away so you can surprise me from above again."
Mors turned to his crew. "Ram them. Ram the engines at the rear of the gondola."
"Yes Captain." Replied the unquestioning crew.
As the Luftpirat pushed forward, the ram alarm blared so all crew not in the gallery could brace for impact.
"Mon Captain." Protested Brieux. "If we ram a hydrogen giant, it could explode and take us with it."
"Not if we do it at this angle." Answered Mors. "And we back away quickly. Tell the lookout to get inside."
Brieux got to the communication hose and relayed the order.
Captain von Gorian was again seen through the spyglass. He would've seen the pointy steel ram plate on the front of the fast approaching Luftpirat and that it had accelerated to a phenomenal speed for its short ram run. Gorian knew what was coming and that Mors was watching him. There were no orders given for trying to evade the ram, nor did he call to abandon ship. He just fixed a hateful stare on his approaching antagonist and did nothing else.
The ram plate first hit a steering fin, snapping it off from the hull, which gave way when the ram pushed on. Mors could hear the metal framework buckle and break as the shell tore. The ram continued to tear the structure along the zeppelins belly as frames were either torn from their joints or snapped apart then bent back to make way for the ram plate that then wrenched a propeller from the hull. Only after the gondola's rear was smashed into was the destructive momentum spent. All of the Fafnir's crew who saw it coming abandoned their posts and fled to the front.
"Full reverse now." Commanded Mors.
All the Luftpirat's engines changed gear faster than any war zeppelin could manage and in a few seconds achieved a backward velocity brought the ship away from its rammed target. Mors smelt Blaugas shower the Luftpirat from ruptured fuel bags. This fuel had a volatility of its own. Ramming the zeppelin's belly kept the Luftpirat clear of the hydrogen cells which were typically sitting in the upper half of the hull.
The Fafnir now had little if any control facility and no aerial worthiness, it began to gyrate. It would be virtually impossible to land. Crewmen began to jump out of the gondola and parachute down. Mors pondered firing a flare at the hull rip they created, thus igniting the spilt blaugas, starting a fire that would doubtless reach the hydrogen cells and destroy the flying war machine utterly.
He didn't have to ponder long. A stray spark from the damaged framework ignited the volatile gas, setting the lower hull ablaze. As expected the hydrogen cells erupted and set the sky on fire. The burning hulk began its descent; Mors judged that the parachuters would be clear of its determined crash site.
"Captain." bellowed a crewman. "That large airship we noticed above the hill; it's leaving, heading due south."
"Can we pursue it?"
The crewman analysed the readings on his instrument panel then announced. "Negative Captain it's traveling twice as fast as we can."
Mors rushed to the panel and did his own reading. It confirmed the crewman's finding. This Unit 11 is producing more advanced technology than he had.
Another concern had Mors looking through the telescope to see what happened on the hilltop, but thick smoke from the battle obscured his view.
"The young inventor, Tom Swift." He asked himself. "Did they get him?"