The tubular canisters fell from the underbelly of the airship, out of a large bay door. On top of that, Katara noticed that the bombs would drop in intervals. There was about one minute elapsing between each barrage, though this was staggered between the airships so that there was always something being dropped at all times. Efficiency even in destruction.
How very Fire Nation.
She also noticed a metallic structure framing the underbelly of each ship, an empty catwalk. She'd have to place her shots carefully to avoid it.
Katara steered Appa toward the nearest ship, loosening her waterskin as she approached. If she could freeze those doors shut, she could at least buy her tribespeople some time to escape to safety. Appa let out a nervous groan, and she patted his head gently.
"You've got this, Appa."
She chose to target the ship on the outer flank of the formation. It was easy enough to get to. As she approached it, she shot a watery projectile at each hinge, through the metal framework. Once they made contact, she froze them in place. As she flew past, she held her breath, counting down the seconds. When the time came for the doors to open, they jarred, rattling slightly, but otherwise stayed shut. She exhaled slowly. Success.
Katara wasted no time, making her way to the second ship. This time she was faster and vastly more precise. She hit her shots in rapid succession, freezing them as she did before. As she made her way to the third airship, she heard the air behind her sizzle, louder, faster...
She ducked just in time, dodging the fireball that had been aimed at her head. Her eyes widened on the soldiers that now occupied the catwalks of the first and second airships. There were at least a dozen in total, and more coming between the remaining two ships. Some were already working on melting the frozen hinges from the outside, and Katara had to steer Appa away as others aimed to shoot them down.
Below, the villagers were winding their way through huts and tents, making for the shoreline, as a new wave of explosives threatened to rain down on them.
Kick.
The metallic hand dug into clothes and flesh, seizing him painfully. Air billowed out of his mouth as Jiang's other hand slammed into his bruised ribs. White-hot fire enveloped his abdomen. His fist connected with Jiang's arm once, then again, harder. Jiang's grip only tightened. He squinted against the haze of the salty water, finding the sun in the form of a faint glow a hundred miles away.
Kick.
He worked to pry the metallic hand off him, digging his fingers under the cold steel. His diaphragm spasmed and he bit his lip hard to fight the urge to open his mouth. When he blindly thrust his elbow back, he made contact, by the feel of it, with one of Jiang's facial bones. His grip on him loosened enough for him to escape.
Kick.
As he inched closer to safety, the power of reflex overcame him. He breathed in, desperate for air, only to suck in freezing water that stung his nose and throat, burned his lungs. He clawed at the water, only a few feet from the surface, from life. As he breached, he grabbed hold of the ice and, with the last of his strength, pulled himself onto solid ice.
Cold air shocked his skin. He fell into a violent, hacking fit of coughs. Water, saliva, and mucus frothed together as he took turns coughing, gasping for air, and retching whatever he'd ingested. Every breath was accompanied by a punishing ache throughout his torso and a low rattle in his chest.
And then he was laughing a ragged, pained laugh while a hand pressed his aching ribs. Spirits… he was alive. Alive, somehow, luck be damned.
He crawled to more stable ground where he waited for his vision to clear. Adrenaline alone got him to his feet. He used snow to wipe off his face before cupping his hands over his mouth, breathing back some feeling into his fingers.
A loud roar directed his attention to the skies. He squinted. Aang's bison was weaving between the airships. He could see Katara aboard, controlling a ribbon of water. Every time she attacked one, the others would resume their assault on the village. This was far from over.
He knew a thing or two about those airships. From what he was told, each was equipped with two external rotors. They were motorized, easy to tamper with, but destroying them would only impact the steering system. What interested Zuko was something else entirely: the gas keeping them afloat.
That was another thing the lead engineer was sure to stress. The gas, hydrogen, was light enough to keep a several ton war balloon in the sky.
"It's light, yes, but… very flammable," he had said nervously. Zuko shared an incredulous look with his sister.
"You can't be serious," Azula interrupted.
"Princess?"
"Who put you up to this?"
"P-Princess… No one… I-I…"
"Tell me, Hui, do I look like a fool to you?"
"N-No, Princess Azula. I would n-never…"
Azula proceeded to threaten him—or had it been his wife?—with banishment. This scared him enough for her to see the truth in his eyes: that he wasn't, in fact, joking.
The man was on the brink of tears when his sister let out a dramatic sigh.
"Oh, stop sniveling. It's pathetic." When Zuko looked at his sister, she was smiling. She had always known. This was just another exercise in her power, and she was savoring every second. She watched, tapping a manicured nail impatiently on her arm, as the engineer wiped his tears away with his sleeve.
"Now, explain it to me. Quickly, Hui!"
He told them that hydrogen was fundamentally simple in structure, which is what made it lighter than air. However, its composition made it likelier for an outside "motivator," like a flame, to sway it into a different, more "excited" state.
As Zuko listened, he silently admitted most of this was beyond him. For one, how did Hui measure something he couldn't see? And how did he get so much of it? Did Mai always feel this bored?
"Excited" meant explosive, meaning they had to keep the gas away from oxygen and any ignition sources. By carrying it in its own vessel, the 'gas bag' as he called it, it would be isolated from the outer environment and, most importantly, shielded from both. The bag itself was located in the anterior third of the ship so it could offset the heavier cargo stowed in the back. Hui even pointed out where it sat from their place outside the ship, noting how they wouldn't be able to see it now without disassembling the whole thing. Zuko absently made a note of it.
"And we can't use anything else? Anything but flammable gas to carry a throng of firebenders?" she snapped.
"Hot air, as per the original design, will only give you a f-fraction of the carrying capacity when scaled to this size," he explained. "There is nothing else that can lift the ships, her crew, and her cargo like this, P-Princess. It s-simply isn't as efficient."
In rare form, Azula didn't respond immediately. She was lost in thought and clearly unhappy. For someone like her, problems typically had a way of being mitigated, thought out, or planned for. This was a glaring risk, one she didn't have an answer for. An inanimate thing like hydrogen couldn't be yelled into submission.
"If I may, Princess…" Hui began softly, and she waved a hand for him to continue. "I've already drawn up a blueprint for a modification to protect the gas bag. It is a flexible steel mesh that can surround it. It will reinforce it enough to make it extremely durable against external damage. B-But…"
'Buts', she didn't like. Her threat was clear on her face: Another obstacle, Hui?
"Speak, for Agni's sake."
He swallowed thickly, wringing his hands. "It will take time— weeks, months, even. A-And we need refined parts, finely crafted metals, of which we have very little—"
"My contact in the north," Azula interjected sharply. "He'll get you what you need, custom made to your specifications." She was frowning, as if something bitter was on her tongue.
Zuko shot her a puzzled look, but she was already making her way up the ramp of the airship, following a very nervous Hui. Azula's expression was unreadable as she glanced at him over her shoulder. If it had been a slip up, she hid it well. The only thing north of the capital was a smattering of mostly uninhabited islands, sorely lacking the facilities for any professional, Fire Nation grade metalwork. Beyond that—
"Enough of that boring drivel," Azula called to him, flashing him a sickly-sweet smile. All was well again. "It's time for the tour! Coming, Zuzu?"
He had his answer. These ships were still prototypic. There was a good chance the mesh wasn't even built yet, much less installed. Meaning, a well-placed, high-speed projectile might be able to perforate the outer balloon, along with the gas bag. Add a source of fire, and, well…
He turned to his tiny war balloon, grimacing. He would need the waterbender's help after all.
*'*'*'*'
Between fighting the Fire Nation soldiers and detracting their focus from the village long enough for everyone to escape, Katara was spread too thin. She was just one person; waterbender or not, she couldn't do it all. Not alone, and not like this. She felt a frustrated knot form in her throat. All of this was supposed to be avoided. But this? This was a disaster. She could scream.
As she directed him toward the airships for another pass, Appa let out a wary growl. When she turned, she spotted the silhouette of the war balloon. In the center of its gondola stood Zuko. He was gripping the tiller as he steered it closer.
"You." She looked down at the shoreline where she had left him frozen earlier. The ice covering the pond had broken, and there was no sign of the combustion bender. She pulled back on Appa's reins, slowing him down until she was flying beside his balloon.
"Listen to me—"
She whirled back to him. "Absolutely not!" she bit back, scowling. The idea of unwillingly hearing another word come out of his mouth was physically revolting.
"I can help you"—Right, Katara thought, already gathering Appa's reins to steer him away—"I know how to stop those ships and I need your waterbending to do it."
She paused, the reins still clutched her hands. He had her attention.
"See that flame insignia?" he yelled over the winds. She shot him a harsh look. It was quite literally impossible to miss. He shrugged it off, continuing, "There's gas stored behind it, inside the body of the ship. The whole thing is a giant ball of flammable gas. I need a fuse to light it."
A bomb. What he was describing was a giant bomb.
"Slashing at it won't work. We"—she scoffed at that, but he stood his ground— "need to make a hole straight into the center of the balloon. That's where you come in."
She turned to look at him fully. He looked terrible. His hair and clothes were half frozen, and his grip on the steel tiller was white-knuckled, as if he his hand were the only thing saving him from collapse. His skin was paler than usual, his face strained. Despite it all, he looked determined.
"All you need to do is freeze something sharp enough to pierce it. I can do the rest."
She considered it. If this plan of his were legitimate, they'd be able to take down at least one ship in seconds. Of course, she knew what an attack like that would mean, what it would do. Did he? She frowned. It didn't matter. She was out of options. He was waiting, steadily holding her gaze. For now, it seemed like their goals were aligned. This had to be enough. Out of her periphery, she noticed how close they were getting to the nearest ship. And now was a good a time as ever.
Katara set her jaw, nodding. "Okay."
He looked relieved as he turned to the rapidly approaching airship. "It'll only take one good shot," he reminded her, "Aim for the middle of the—"
"Flame insignia, yeah, got it," she snapped, summoning her supply of water into the air in front of her. "On your mark."
A pause, then, "Now!"
She swirled the water into a tight formation, packing it densely so she could freeze it into an ice spear, roughly two meters long. Using Appa's momentum and her own strength, she launched it at the ship. The icicle tore through the outer balloon, sinking deeper until it disappeared, directly on target. There was a distinct pop, followed by a low hiss. The soldiers on the catwalk ceased fire. Some frantically waved their hands, yelling, while others scrambled inside the ship. A few just stood there, dumfounded.
She steered Appa away, watching as Zuko hurled a ball of fire that spread as soon as it made contact with the invisible gas. Katara watched in equal parts horror and fascination as the entire balloon lit up. It glowed a brilliant orange as the taut outer covering burned away, exposing the hollow framework beneath. The ship began losing altitude, quickly, and she watched as it unceremoniously crashed on the outer perimeter of the village. It broke through part of the outer wall before collapsing on itself. The other ships idled while its passengers probably wondered what happened, mourned their comrades, or planned their next move.
This was the first successful counterattack of the day, but Katara was stuck staring at the burning wreckage.
A soldier emerged, writhing, engulfed in flames. Soon after, a few more followed. They swayed, like dancers, as their own element did the only thing it knew how to: burning away skin, melting fat, and eating away gristle before snuffing them out completely. They were powerless to stop it. She struggled to swallow the bile that had risen to her throat as she watched them fall to the ground.
"Katara." A voice was calling to her.
"Katara!" She took in a sharp breath, snapped her gaze to Zuko. His eyes held hers. "One more."
She stared at him. Was he used to this? Was he okay with it? His expression changed; concern of all things flashed in his weary eyes.
"One. More," he repeated stiffly. He could hardly stand up straight. Breathing looked like agony. "Just like before. The rest… All of it is on me."
She nodded slowly, wondering at that last remark until she caught herself. Again, it didn't matter. Nothing else mattered outside of getting her people out safely. Even if it meant initiating a brief—very brief—alliance with a sworn enemy or burning down a ship or two full of people...
The bile rose up again as she urged Appa forward and the thoughts far back into the recesses of her mind. As she pushed onward, she used her bending to create another ice spear. This time, when she launched it, it struck off center, shattering on impact. Her eyes widened as she scrambled to make another.
"Shit," Zuko grumbled before he urged her to try again, though she could hear panic rise in his voice as they approached, much closer than the first time.
She braced herself on Appa's head as she flung the spear forward. This time, it struck true. She heard the characteristic POP of the perforated gas bag, much louder now. They were close enough now for Katara to see the soldiers' faces glaring up at her.
As Zuko lowered into his kata, she wasted no time in yanking back on Appa's reins. She climbed above the plane of the airship and, moments later, felt a burst of heat followed by a deafening explosion. She peered down in time to see the warship reduced to a ball of roaring flames. It began its rapid descent, crashing into the glaciers outside of the village. The second thing she noticed was Zuko's small war balloon stuck in a tailspin, uncontrollably diving toward the ground. As it made contact, a cloud of snow was thrown into the air, concealing it entirely from view.
She brought Appa closer, circling over the crash sight as the billowing snow cleared. In the middle of a small crater lay the battered war balloon. The red Fire Nation tarp was smoking in places; the molten debris from their attack had likely burned holes in the balloon. Her breath caught when she spotted Zuko's body stagger out of the wreckage. He took a few uneasy steps before one of his hands shot to his side, clutching it. A bodily shudder ran through him. Then, he crumpled to the ground.
By the time she landed, the remaining two airships had initiated their retreat. She climbed down Appa's saddle, finding herself in the middle of the eerily quiet village.
"Hey!" It was the woman from before, the stranger. She was covered in ash. "I need your help. There's a child trapped beneath the rubble!"
Wordlessly, Katara ran after her, leaving Appa behind. The metal skeleton of the first airship was twisted out of shape, towering over them in some places while blocking their footpath in others. As they navigated the dense rubble where the main cargo hold of the ship had landed, Katara lost sight of the woman around a sharp bend. She yelped when she felt something grip her boot. When she looked down, she saw a uniformed hand, bruised and bloodied. Its owner was lost under steel and snow.
"H... Help..." A man's voice.
She tugged her foot free, before crouching down to pull some of the debris loose. She was faced by the characteristic helmet of the Fire Nation army. It had shattered on one side, revealing a single brown eye, the edge of his nose, and the corner of his mouth. His lips were cracked, and fresh blood trailed out of his mouth. She could hear him wheezing horribly. He had been crushed.
"You're stuck," she told him softly, unsure of why she had even stopped, why she was doing this. "I can't move you."
Her words didn't seem to register with him. "P-please," he whispered, his lips barely moving. "Wa-ter."
She didn't hesitate before abiding by his request, though she chose to bring her water skin to his lips instead of bending the water to him. She didn't want him knowing who she was in his final moments... that she was the one who ultimately did this to him. She wasn't sure if that made her weak or a coward.
"Akane... " He took in a pained breath, shuddering. "Tell her... I'm sorry."
Katara opened her mouth, but couldn't find her words.
"Katara?" It was the woman, calling out to her.
"My letter... pocket... Give her..."
Katara was about to stand because this was suddenly all too much. The burden felt impossibly heavy to bear, weighing down on both her shoulders and spirit. She wanted to leave, to escape this, and yet his single eye caught hers and kept her planted in place.
"You have to..." he pleased.
"Katara! Where are you?!"
"I'm here!" Katara responded to her, swallowing back her frustrated tears. Her voice dropped into a shaky whisper as she regarded the soldier. "I need to go."
"No..." he groaned, frustrated tears lining his eyes. "She needs to know... Please... Please, please..."
When his hand thrust forward to grab her, her mind broke free enough for her to jerk her body out of reach. She got to her feet, trembling.
"Cold... don't... wan... na... d-die..."
Blood smattered over his lips and teeth. A terrible rattle sounded in his chest. The hand that had been reaching for her dropped.
"Mother..."
His eyes glazed over. He went still.
"Katara."
She jolted, snapping her head toward the woman. In the blink of an eye, Katara's hands were up, raised into a defensive stance. The woman froze, looking from her to the body and back again.
"I've never seen you before," Katara said harshly. "Who are you?"
"My name is Kilak," she said carefully. "I'm not your enemy."
Katara didn't move. Her mind was reeling through the events of the past two days. She knew her exhaustion was making her irrational, hostile. She didn't care.
"Listen..." The woman, Kilak, spread her arms out in front of her in a gesture of neutrality. "I can tell you everything you want to know, but right now we have someone who needs help. Will you help them, Katara?"
Like I helped HIM?!
She lowered her trembling hands. There was moisture on her face. Tears, she realized, distantly.
"I-I'm sorry..." she muttered brokenly, not even sure if she meant it. "I just..." she caught herself, reining in the emotions she had put on display. They had no place here. Not with so much to be done.
She blinked hard, wiping a hand across her face. "Lead the way."
"She's here," Kilak said, trying and failing to budge the several-hundred-pound steel skeleton.
The ruined remains of a hut had been crushed and wedged under the airship and, further below, came the soft sobs of the child.
Katara bent the snow into water, using it to lift the structure partly off the ground. When she froze it in place, the ice immediately began to crumble. She squeezed her hands into fists, holding it in place. Kilak stooped down, peering into the newly revealed path tunneling into the wreckage.
"I'm going to have to crawl in there and pull her out."
"Hurry," was all Katara could manage to say, through stiff lips.
She could feel the weight of the structure as she fought against it. As Kilak entered the rubble, painfully slowly, Katara closed her eyes. She focused on breathing, in and out.
"I see her!" Kilak yelled. The child's cries had gone silent. "Just a little more..."
"I... can't…" she responded through clenched teeth.
Her strength was waning. Her arms shook from the exertion. The metal skeleton groaned, shuddering. She held her stance, feeling the blood drain from her head to her arms. Her heart was lurching painfully in her chest, and her breaths became ragged and shallow.
"I've got her... I'm coming out!" Kilak's voice rang.
Katara held her breath, straining. As soon as both of them were cleared, she let the ice crumble. The metal screeched as it came crashing down. She stumbled backward, panting hard.
"It's Tulia," Kilak said quickly, hovering a finger under the girl's nostrils. "She's breathing, but my... she's been burned, badly."
"I... I'll take care of it... At the docks..." She staggered, and her knees nearly buckled before Kilak's hand shot out to stabilize her.
"Thanks," she murmured, gathering herself.
Kilak carried Tulia, following a drained Katara through the mass of destruction that was their village. They weaved around the remains of homes, giant pieces of the airship, and the occasional soldier's body, burnt to a crisp. The smell reminded her of charred bits of tiger seal blubber after they'd been left in the pan too long. This would haunt her for years.
The girl, Tulia, was no more than thirteen. She had severe burns to her hands and arms where she braced herself against the steel framework of the ship. Kilak covered her mouth, wide-eyed, as Katara cut open her robes to reveal the full extent of her injuries. 'Severe' didn't quite embody what she was seeing. These were the worst Katara had ever seen. The superheated steel had burned through her tissue, touching bone in some places.
"Spirits guide her..."
The spirits can't help her Katara thought grimly. There would be scarring. Loss of function. It would be ugly. Katara felt her stomach twist into knots before the harrowing thought came to mind: Was this her fault?
She took in a shaky breath, blinking back the tears that had already risen to her eyes.
"No..." she said under her breath, repeating it again, more firmly, so she could believe it, if not for a moment, "No."
Kilak was quiet, sending her a look of misguided sympathy. Katara took one of Tulia's arms, using her water-covered hands to draw her chi to the damaged flesh. First she stopped the bleeding, at least for the most part. Then, she drew out whatever impurities were large enough to be whisked away. She did what she could for the scorched musculature, though it wasn't much outside of stabilizing some damaged fibers and directing her body's own healing factors to the injury.
Katara was a healer, not a miracle worker. Even with her gift, she was often limited by the capabilities of human physiology. Even after she employed the spiritual powers of the water from the spirit oasis, Aang was still stuck in a coma for weeks. After a certain point, no amount of healing could rouse him or improve his condition any further. A wound like Tulia's would be open for many days, up to several weeks. In the meantime, she would need daily healing sessions, daily bandage replacements, constant monitoring, and therapy to restore even partial function. She bit the inside of her cheek. None of which Katara would be around to provide. Another side effect of this century-long hell.
"Seaweed bandages, Kilak," she said weakly, after she finished cleaning the other arm. "Do we have them?" A natural antiseptic, good choice for the long journey to the Air Temple.
"Last I checked, yes."
"Get me some, please... Tulia will fly with me."
"Yes, of course... Thank you, Katara." She stood to leave, pausing. "You should get some rest."
The only thing she could manage was a thin smile. There were so many other things she should do. Rest sat low on that list.
By the time she'd drawn the ships to shore, a monumental task that sapped her of the little energy she had left, she could barely hold her head upright. As the villagers boarded, Shema took over, helping load Tulia aboard Appa's saddle. Kilak returned with the bandages and a large sack of medical supplies.
"For the journey," she said. "Just in case."
In Appa's saddle, Katara wrapped the unconscious girl in wool blankets, mindful of her newly bandaged wounds. She straightened, waving goodbye to Shema and Kilak as they left to board. A wave of relief crashed over her when the first wave of sailboats caught a favorable gust blowing north. It was the only bit of respite granted to a band of people that had already gone through an eon of agony. Katara sighed. Her fatigue was making her bitter, souring her thoughts.
As she strapped down the rest of the supplies, she found herself replaying the events of the morning. There was no way her friends would believe her when she told them about working with Zuko of all people. Aang, maybe, but Sokka? Not a chance. She smiled wistfully. She missed them. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to hear one of Sokka's stupid, offbeat jokes, or some of Aang's monkish wisdom. As much as it pained her to admit it, she even missed Toph's raucous commentary.
Were they okay? Were they safe? Did they make it to the Northern Air Temple? She sent a sidelong glance southward. He was out there still, face-down in the snow, unconscious. One thing was certain... They had to be in better shape than Zuko was.
She chewed her lip as she worked to secure a glass canister of ointment among soft bandages, padding for the journey.
Leave him, Katara.
She stopped completely, peering beyond the collapsed outer wall and out to the tundra. She could see the distant outline of the war balloon, still smoldering on the ground. The sub-zero temperatures that came with the setting sun would be enough to kill him, if a hungry polar bear dog didn't get to him first.
Leave him.
She let out a deep sigh, turning to Appa. The flying bison's big, brown eyes gazed back at her inquisitively. He looked about as weary as she was, at least as much as a big wooly beast could. She reached out to pat his snout as a requisite apology and, as if sensing her thoughts, he responded with a nervous grunt, nudging her hand.
"You're going to hate me for this."