A week later, after trials and the correction of minor flaws, the ship was declared fully operational and received its name—Leopard. I have no idea why they chose that one. The logic of the Admiralty is beyond a green captain's understanding—though, according to Tandao, it's beyond an admiral's grasp as well. Considering he was part of my father's retinue, I'm inclined to believe he knows what he's talking about.
Be that as it may, with the official naming came our first assignment.
Much to my immense relief, it wasn't "Naval Blockade," affectionately known in the Fleet as the "merry-go-round" (and about as useful for gaining real experience as riding one in an amusement park), but a perfectly respectable patrol of potentially dangerous waters along the boundary between the territorial waters of the nominally occupied regions of the Earth Kingdom and the Northern Water Tribe.
One might ask what the "earth folk" could possibly do with their wooden tubs against a fully armoured cruiser. As for the Water Tribe's "canoes," I won't even comment.
So I was far more concerned about encountering pirates, who could very well have gotten their hands on decommissioned Fire Nation warships and, in groups of two or three, could give even a cruiser a very bad day. At least, that's what we'd been taught at the navigation school.
Well… in at least one respect, my esteemed instructors were mistaken—the "natives," it turned out, could be unpleasantly surprising as well
As the saying goes, that evening gave no hint of what was to come.
The ship had anchored about ten kilometers off the coast. Sailing here at night was possible—but only with a pilot familiar with these waters. Otherwise, you could easily run aground or smash into reefs. Since we had no such specialist aboard, we dropped anchor at sunset.
After checking on the sentries—who had drawn the dubious honor of night duty—I retired to my cabin to read a couple of clever books on firebending and get some sleep.
All the more unpleasant, then, was waking to the sensation that someone was creeping toward my bed.
The habit of sleeping lightly had been drilled into me by none other than Piandao. And tonight, thanks to that, I stayed alive.
Waking, I gave no sign of it. If anything, I relaxed even more and casually found the familiar dagger beneath my pillow.
Footsteps drew closer. Now!
I snapped upright, folding at the waist as I sat up, and my left hand—knife in hand—continued the motion into a swift, slicing strike… straight across the throat of the unknown figure already beginning to lean over me, a dagger in his hand glinting faintly in the moonlight.
The enemy hadn't yet realized he was dead—and I was already shouting at the top of my lungs.
"Alarm! Enemy aboard!"
I slammed the alarm horn—an incredibly useful invention capable of waking the dead—then grabbed my sword and bolted onto the deck in nothing but my underwear. This was no time for dressing up or maintaining appearances.
The deck was dark as hell—the kind of dark that meant we were in deep shit.The young moon provided barely any light, and some bastard had put out the signal lamps.
Hearing a strange buzzing sound, I jerked aside—just in time. Something whistled past my ear, sending a cool rush of air across my skin and making my heart drop into my stomach. If I hadn't moved, whatever it was would have smashed straight into the bridge of my nose—and I had a strong suspicion it wouldn't have survived the encounter.
I lunged forward, zigzagging like a hare just in case.
Where are you, you bastard?
There!
Near the railing stood another dark silhouette, flailing arms and legs, hurling stones at the warriors rushing onto the deck.
I squeezed my eyes shut and unleashed a burst of flame in the enemy's direction. In the darkness, the sudden flash hit the eyes hard. While the enemy blinked, trying to recover, I closed the distance and brought the flat of my blade down hard on his head—this bastard was going to tell me everything.
The opponent dropped like a sack onto the deck, and two more rushed at me. Judging by the swords in their hands and the lack of pebble pouches, they were ordinary soldiers.
Speaking of pouches—I cut one from the fallen earthbender's belt and kicked it straight into one attacker's face. As he instinctively raised his arms to block, I opened his belly. On the backswing, I severed his companion's arm.
Blood. Screams. Wet choking sounds.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement and yanked the wounded man toward me.
Just in time.
Judging by the crunch through my living shield, there was another stone-thrower on that side. A telltale crack and a strangled rasp followed.
Huh. Looks like there's no more stone-thrower.
Finishing off the barely breathing infiltrator, I continued the hunt.
By the end of the fight, I had nineteen partisans to my name—including three benders, two of whom had been taken alive.
"Tandao, report casualties," I said as soon as we had a moment to catch our breath and provide first aid to the wounded. "And tie up that scum—they are not to move so much as a finger."
"Yes, Captain," one of the sailors responded.
"Casualties…" The XO winced, accidentally jostling his injured shoulder. "Thirty-two sailors and two benders. We got off lightly."
"Lightly?" I felt my eye twitch. "A third of the crew and a quarter of all our benders is 'lightly'?"
"Against fifty infiltrators supported by four earthbenders—yes," the old sailor assured me. "You raised the alarm in time—the enemy managed to clear only the first crew quarters. The rest fell in battle. Raids like this usually end with the entire crew lost and the ship 'disappearing.' But you eliminated most of their earthbenders and deprived them of magical support, Captain. Good work."
In response to Tandao's speech, all I could do was grind my teeth.
Three dozen people—my people—had gone to the land of eternal hunting.
And that was entirely my fault.
I hadn't anticipated it. I'd posted the sentries according to the standard scheme instead of the reinforced one for hostile waters, trying to spare the men—what could possibly threaten them in the middle of the sea aboard a heavily armed cruiser? That showed me, damn it. I hadn't even had time to truly get to know them, but losses like that…
I think it was at that moment I truly understood that I was mortal.
And, more unpleasantly, suddenly mortal.
Maybe to hell with it? Losing the war isn't that critical… I shook my head, forcing the slippery thoughts out. No. If I've taken this on, I see it through to the end. Maybe it's foolish. Maybe it's just stubbornness mixed with inflated pride—but… not a chance, as one character used to say!