"Crusade" - читать интересную книгу автора (Андерсон Тейлор)CHAPTER 2Prince Rasik-Alcas sprawled on the heap of cushions opposite his father’s massive throne in the Royal Chamber of the high, sprawling palace. Blood matted his fur — none of it his — and he idly reflected that the opulent pillows would be ruined, but he didn’t care. He was exhausted by the fighting that Phad convulsed the city, even while the titanic struggle raged beyond the walls. He had, of course, never intended to get as caught up in it as he had, but when some of the palace guard, spurred by rage and shame, actually rose against the king, Rasik had been forced to fight. It was something he didn’t much enjoy, strangely enough — at least the physical aspects of it. He was keenly interested in war and strategy and politics and all the heady matters a future king should be interested in, but the actual fighting was something he’d just as soon leave to others. That didn’t mean he wasn’t any good at it. He lifted an eyelid and glanced idly at the only guard currently in the chamber. «I told you!» proclaimed Fet-Alcas in a frail attempt at a menacing growl. «We should have let Rolak out!» Rasik sighed. «No, you didn’t, sire.» Fet-Alcas blinked. «Well, he got out anyway,» he grumped. «And then those ridiculous sea folk actually defeated the Grik!» His voice became shrill. «That. Fet-Alcas belched then, and shifted uncomfortably on his throne. «But no!» he continued bitterly. «The miserable sea folk and their friends with the iron ships did «Do not complain, sire,» Rasik sneered. «Our people had their battle after all!» Fet-Alcas turned to him and began a furious shout, but all that emerged was a gout of blood. It splashed down on his white robe and pooled like vomit at his feet. Both Rasik and the guard rushed to his side and stared at the king as he looked at them in shock. «The king is ill!» cried the guard in alarm. «No,» said Rasik, as he drove his own sword into the distracted retainer’s throat. Blood spurted down the sword onto Rasik’s hand and splattered on the king’s white robe. The guard fell to the floor and thrashed, describing great crimson arcs upon the tile as his mouth opened and closed spasmodically. His tail whipped back and forth for a few seconds more, smearing the blood still further, and then he lay still. Fet-Alcas, stunned, looked at the corpse that had fallen almost at his feet. He tried to speak, but yet another gush of blood poured forth and he was wracked with spasms of agony. Silently, for the most part, he continued to retch, but by now the blood had slowed to a trickle. The poison in the seep from the cup he still held was of a type that deadened all pain and sensation while it corrosively ate any flesh that it touched. At least it deadened it for a while. Fet-Alcas looked at the cup in his paw and then dropped it in horror. Rasik slowly sheathed his own sword and drew the one worn by the dead guard. His eyes were wide with excitement and his tail twitched nervously back and forth. «No,» he repeated with a hiss, drawing his thin lips hard across his teeth. «You are not ill, sire. You are dead. Killed by another traitorous guard!» With that, he slashed down repeatedly across the king’s neck and upper chest, grunting with effort as the blade bit deep. Finally,peate throne and joined the guard on the tile abattoir. Rasik stood motionless, listening, while his breathing returned to normal. Laying the bloody sword on the floor, he drew his own again and looked at it wonderingly. Then he dipped the tip into the pool of blood rapidly spreading beneath his father’s corpse. «A king’s blood on a king’s sword,» he whispered, and stepping toward the hallway that led to the chamber door, he began to run. «Murderers!» he screamed at the top of his lungs, flinging the door wide. «They have murdered the king!» Courtney Bradford stood at the barricade staring through his «borrowed» binoculars at the scene of the previous day’s battle. The first rays of the sun were creeping above the horizon, but so far all he could see was a seemingly endless sea of indistinct shapes, alone or massed in piles, across the marshy plain. Occasionally he saw movement. Either a wounded Grik that the searchers hadn’t dispatched the night before, or possibly some scavenger darting furtively through the unprecedented smorgasbord. It was the scavengers he hoped to see. Queen Maraan — a delightful creature, he thought — had told him about skuggiks, which she described as vile little predators about the size of a turkey. They invariably appeared to feast upon the carrion after a battle. They walked on two legs and actually looked a lot like Grik, she said, except they were considerably smaller and had no upper limbs at all. They were walking mouths, for all intents and purposes, with quick, powerful legs and a long, whiplike tail. Bradford couldn’t wait to see one. With as much dignity as he could muster, he stuffed the binoculars into his sling and strode away from the breastworks toward the guttering torches that surrounded the hospital tent. Marine guards ringed the area, nearly dead on their feet. After the treachery of the day before, they’d been reluctant to allow the Aryaalans and B’mbaadans to take their place on the barricade, but they were exhausted and Adar ordered them to rest. They weren’t about to trust undependable allies with the security of their wounded comrades and leaders, however. Battle-weary Marines rotated the duty throughout the night. Bradford knew now what had happened, and he personally felt nothing but gratitude for the warriors that came to their aid, but he could sympathize with how the Marines felt. There were many, many wounded lying on the ground in the vicinity and he carefully picked his way through the sleeping forms. Many, he suspected, would never awake. Most would, however, and that was largeng torchesg into the gray morning light. He realized she’d probably brought little in the way of medical science to the Lemurian people. In many ways their medicines were more effective than those she knew — the strange antiseptic paste for one — but she had introduced the idea of battlefield triage and the associated patch-and-splice that went with it. That was something the local healers had never considered. The sea folk didn’t need it because they so rarely fought anything like a major battle, and the locals, who fought all the time, had just never thought of it. Perhaps it was because even they had never fought a battle such as this, in which the sheer numbers of casualties were so high. Unlike anyone they’d met so far, the B’mbaadans and Aryaalans understood the concept of surrender, at least among themselves. Maybe they had never let things go this far before one side or the other just quit. Whatever the case, the exhausted young nurse had done heroic work that night. He picked his way toward her. «You should rest, my dear. You are destroyed.» He spoke quietly so as not to disturb those nearby whose sleep was only temporary. She nodded at him and smiled weakly. «But you know that, of course.» «Yes.» She sighed. «The healers we brought are a wonder. I couldn’t have managed without them.» Her face brightened somewhat. «Pam Cross and Kathy McCoy came from Bradford nodded and gently patted her arm. «Mr. Ellis told me last night.» Sandra shivered, but continued to glare at the barricade. «Damn Kaufman!» she muttered fiercely. «So much misery because of him. I hope he roasts in hell!» Bradford felt his eyebrow arch, but decided now wasn’t an appropriate time for the response that leaped to mind. Pity. «I’m quite certain he did, my dear.» He guided her to a bench and hovered near her as she sat down at last. «And how then are the captain and his extremely lucky companions? I still can hardly believe they survived, from what I hear.» She stared bleakly at her hands on her lap. «As you say. Lucky to be alive. Keje has a concussion, I think, but other than that he didn’t get a scratch. The Chief had an arrow in his hip, but it struck the very edge of his pelvis and went down instead of up. Lucky. If it went up, it would have perforated his bowel. God knows if that Lemurian paste would have any effect on peritonitis. It’ll hurt when he walks for a while, but he should be fine. Matt?» She closed her eyes tightly and tried to control the relief in her voice. «His cheekbone is cracked, at least, and he has a deep gash in his side, down to the ribs. Besides that, he was stabbed in the back, through his shoulder blade and out his chest with a spear.» She laughed bitterly. «At least it was a ‘clean’ wound. Not many bone fragments or other debris. Those Grik spears are sharp!» The tears came then, in spite of all she could do. Bradford sat beside her and put his good arm around her shoulders. «You care a lot for him, don’t you, my dear?» He spoke in a kindly voice. «Of course I do,» Sandra whispered, answis. all.» The sun finally rose and showed for all to see the results of the Battle of Aryaal. By late morning, the skuggiks had arrived in force, and soon there were so many even Bradford couldn’t watch them anymore, so sickened did he become. Beyond the barricade and across the plain, all the way up to the base of the wall that surrounded Aryaal, a seething mass of raucous scavengers feasted on the thousands of Grik corpses underneath the brilliant sun and cloudless sky. The ground itself came to look like one huge corpse, working with maggots as the light gray skuggiks capered and hopped among the bodies, gorging themselves on the remains. The smell was overpowering, but the sounds the creatures made while they ate were even worse. Jim Ellis walked, still limping a little from the wound Kaufman had given him, up to the awning that served as a hospital tent. There he found Rolak, pacing anxiously back and forth while Chack stood in one place and spoke quietly to him. Jim had met the Lemurian bosun’s mate only the night before, but he didn’t feel the least bit ridiculous returning the sharp salute Chack gave him when he joined them. «Good morning, sir,» Chack said. There was a blood-soaked bandage on his shoulder, and he wore his battered doughboy helmet with a jaunty air. Over his other shoulder was slung a long-barreled Krag-Jorgensen and a Navy cutlass was belted around his blood-spattered kilt. «Good morning, ah, Mr. Chack.» Ellis gestured at Rolak, who had stopped his pacing and was now looking at him. «What’s with him?» «He is anxious to see the captain.» «Me too,» Jim said with feeling. He glanced at his watch. «I guess we’ll get to in about fifteen minutes. I got word there’s an officers’ call at twelve hundred hours.» Chack nodded. «Yes, sir, but not in the tent. It’s down at the left flank of the breastworks, close to the water. I’m directing everyone there as they arrive.» Jim Ellis looked at him in surprise. «You mean they carried the captain over there in the shape he’s in?» he demanded. Chack blinked. «He walked.» Matt was seated stiffly on a stool near where Ellis had placed the.30-cals the day before. His left arm was bound tightly to his side so he couldn’t move it, even accidentally, and risk opening his wounds. His sunken eyes and the purplish-yellow bruise that covered the left side of his face made his pain clearly evident in spite of the clean uniform and fresh shave. Behind him stood Lieutenant Tucker, wearing a disapproving frown, and Chief Gray, supporting himself with a pair of crutches from The gathering, or «officers’ call,» was quite large. All the battle line «captains» were there, including Rick Tolson from Keje was there, also on a stool, with his head bound in a bandage that resembled a turban. Nearby stood his daughter, who stared at the striking, black-furred queen of B’mbaado with expressionless eyes. If Safir Maraan noticed the scrutiny, she gave no sign. She was immaculately groomed, which alone was enough to set her apart from most of those present. Her black cape and brilliant armor had been just as muddy and bloodstained as anyone’s the day before, but since then it had been either cleaned or replaced. Now she cut a most imposing figure as she stood, slightly aside, with Haakar-Faask and four of her elite personal guards in attendance. They were not quite as resplendent as she, but they had groomed themselves. Adar was speaking softly to Keje, who nodded without thinking and winced at the pain from the sudden movement. Larry Dowden and Lieutenant Garrett were the only officers from «I guess everybody’s here that’s coming,» he said. «Sorry I’m late, Captain,» Ellis apologized, although it was only just now 1200. «I went over to check how repairs to my shi» He grimaced guiltily. «I mean Matt made a dismissive gesture with his good hand. «You’re not late, Jim, and «Thanks, Skipper,» Jim said in a tone of relief. He wouldn’t have been surprised to be relieved. After all, he deserved it. He cocked his head toward Matt shook his head with an assurance he didn’t feel. «Nonsense. Lieutenant Dowden’s a fine officer. He’ll have no trouble. Now then.» He turned his attention to the gathered officers, who had silently watched the short exchange. There was a sudden commotion in the ring of onlookers and Matt vaguely recognized Lord Rolak as he pushed his way through to stand before him. His fine helmet was dented and the feather plume was gone. Unlike Queen Maraan, he hadn’t refreshed himself in any way since the battle the day before. He stood squarely before Captain Reddy and his eyes blazed with inner torment. He drew his battered sword. In an instant Gray had his pistol pointed at the Protector’s face. In the shocked silence, there were several metallic rasps of bolts slamming home as other destroyermen reacted to the threat. Matt raised his hand. Slowly, never taking his eyes from Matt’s, Lord Rolak went to his knees and laid his sword on the ground at Matt’s feet. «My sword, my life, my honor — which is all that I am — is yours,» he said in a keening monotone. Astonished, Adar hurried to him and knelt at his side. «I am Adar, Sky Priest to «B’mbaado is proud, grateful, to have fought beside such warriors as yourselves. Never has there been such a battle, and never have warriors achieved so much against such odds.» She listened to the appreciative murmurs. «B’mbaado is a warlike nation,» she continued matter-of-factly. «We war often. With Aryaal, or the other nations up the coast, so fighting is not strange to us. But this war is unlike anything we’ve faced. The Grik are Evil. They are not even People. They do not fight for, or with, honor but only for death. Beyond that? Territory perhaps. We do not even know. We do know what happens to those they vanquish.» She took a breath. «For the first time, when the Grik came here, B’mbaado faced a war it did not want, was not prepared to fight, and knew it couldn’t win. We even tried to join forces with our most bitter rival, Aryaal, because we knew that only together might we have a chance.» She paused. «But it was to no avail. They were too many. We knew it was just a matter of time until Aryaal fell, and then B’mbaado would be next. I brought the Six Hundred, my personal guard, to help delay that day as long as possible, but in reality all hope was lost.» She turned to look directly at Matt. «Then you came. Not for loot or conquest, or for anything from us at all. You came to She looked back at Matt, and again at the surrounding officers. «But then you came, with yet another iron ship, and the great Homes of the sea folk. You She paused and blinked significant resolve. «I have come to realize that this war you fight to destroy the Grik forever is not just a war for honor, as we’ve so often fought, but an haraan, Queen Protector of the People of B’mbaado, beg you will accept my nation and my warriors into your Grand Alliance to destroy the Grik menace once and forever.» There were appreciative howls and stamping feet, and the humans that could clapped their hands together. Matt stood and watched while the queen bowed formally, acknowledging the praise, and he managed a smile. Behind it, however, as he so often did, he was considering ramifications. The B’mbaadans were considerable warriors. Much like the people of Madura were reckoned in the world he came from. The question was how best to integrate them into the shield wall. They would have their own ideas how to fight, and he hoped they wouldn’t prove too difficult to teach the new way of fighting, as they’d done with the others. If the battle had taught them anything at all, it was that the tactics Matt had suggested and Shinya and Alden had drilled into their troops worked. The last thing they needed was a gaggle forming part of the line. Surprisingly, Queen Maraan immediately answered the question for him. «I was, of course, impressed by the skill and courage with which you fought,» she said. «As an ally, might I presume you will teach us these skills of war?» Matt stirred with relief when Adar told him what she had asked, and he cleared his throat. «Certainly, Your Highness. I’m sure something can be arranged.» He waited until Adar began telling the queen what he’d said. «Lieutenant Shinya?» he whispered quietly. Shinya stepped up beside him. «Sir?» «See to it, if you please. Set up an abbreviated drill for our new allies. Or if they’re willing, maybe we can integrate the B’mbaadan troops directly into our existing regiments, at least for now. Sort of a ‘jump right in’ form of basic training. God knows, we need the replacements after yesterday.» While he spoke, he noticed the queen of B’mbaado staring at Chack with as close to an expression of interested speculation as her face was capable of. Perhaps Adar had mentioned him? Maybe she’d asked about the powerful young Lemurian who stared brazenly back at her from beneath the jaunty angle of his dented helmet. «I know you’ve learned to speak ’Cat pretty good, Lieutenant,» Matt said in a thoughtful tone, «but use Chack as your liaison. If you want him to keep the Second Marines that’s fine with me — hell, he helped train them — and that’d be a good outfit to put their officers in to work them up.» Lieutenant Shinya nodded. «That was my thinking exactly, Captain.» Matt looked at the battle line commanders for a moment before addressing them. «All of you are not just captains but also heads of state. You have an equal say in this matter. Do any of you object to this alliance?» There was only a respectful silence from the Home high chiefs, although Anai-Sa of The Aryaalan seemed to clear his thoughts as he quickly knelt before the captain. «Yes, Lord?» Matt understood that much of the People’s speech, and he rubbed his eyes with his good hand and peered down at the t was high time he learned to speak without an interpreter. «Adar,» he said, «please try to explain to Lord Rolak that he’s not a slave. I know what he did — what he risked and what he lost — in order to keep his word. I don’t doubt his honor or his courage, and no one else should either. I admire it. Tell him that. Then tell him I’d be grateful for his service, and the service of all those who followed him and fought so well at our side. Not as slaves or vassals, but as friends.» Matt carefully lowered himself until he was kneeling on the ground. As Adar spoke, Rolak lifted his gaze until it rested heavily and searchingly upon Matt’s face. With an encouraging smile, Matt extended his hand. Rolak looked at it, unsure, until Adar quickly explained the human custom. Then Rolak slowly, almost tentatively, extended his own hand. Matt grasped it between them and pumped it up and down. Seeing Matt’s difficulty in rising, Shinya and Sandra helped the captain back onto the stool, where he sat, puffing slightly and watching the Aryaalan. Rolak stood and brushed sand from his knees. «We are friends then, yes,» he said, talking to Adar. «But that in no way absolves me of my honor debt. If anything, it makes it a greater burden. Sometimes friendship can be the cruelest slavery of all, but in this case I accept it gladly. Tell Cap-i-taan Reddy he is my lord, as Fet-Alcas once was, and my sword, my life, and my honor are still his, but they are freely given as a friend and not as a slave.» Matt listened to Adar’s translation and sighed. It was probably the best compromise he would manage for now, given the dire nature of Rolak’s original pledge, and he was grateful that, however it happened, the alliance had grown still more. «Now,» he said, holding himself as still as possible while the pain of his exertions subsided, «that’s over with. I’ve heard your reports, but this meeting is to get everyone on the same page regarding our current situation. Mr. Shinya, would you describe the disposition of the enemy?» «Yes, sir.» Shinya shifted and spoke so his voice would carry to all those present. «As far as we can tell, they’re gone. Our original estimate of their embarked force seems to have been. a little off, and several hundred of them, at least, escaped at the end of the battle. There is no indication that they retreated in any semblance of order, though. They just fled. I would recommend that when the Catalina flies in from Baalkpan this afternoon, Lieutenant Mallory be requested to fly a quick search pattern, fuel permitting, to ensure that the enemy has not reconstituted himself nearby.» «Do you think that is likely?» Keje asked. He spoke very carefully because he, like Matt, was trying to remain as still as he could. «It’s possible. I do not think it likely, however.» Shinya paused and his brow furrowed in thought as he tried to decide how best to explain himself. Before he could, Courtney Bradford spoke up. «If I may, Lieutenant?» Shinya nodded and the Australian cleared his throat. «Well. First of all, when the Grik finally broke, it was quite spectacular. Quite spectacular indeed! They just ran in all directions, like bees! As if they’d entirely lost their minds. Although I wasn’t, um, actually in the very thickest of the fight, I saw the end from what might have been a better vantage point than most. Their demeanor couldn’t have been more different from one moment to the next. It was as though one just pulled a cord and flipped a lied. «We saw it once aboard «What Bradford shrugged. «Some kind of massive, instinctual panic attack that renders them totally incapable of concerted efforts — such as war. Be lovely to turn it on and off again at will, but so far the only things I’ve seen do the trick are massive doses of automatic weapons, heavy artillery, and having their assault stopped cold by what were, at least briefly and locally, superior numbers that attacked Matt frowned. «So, in other words, pretty much the same thing that has stopped every other attack in history.» «Indeed. But the «It was certainly significant,» Shinya confirmed. «And if we could learn how to create it at will, even strategic perhaps.» He turned to Matt. «But Mr. Bradford is right. We cannot ‘plan’ for it. We have fought the Grik enough now to know that it does not always happen. In fact, sometimes their ‘rout’ can make them even more dangerous.» He was remembering the losses they’d taken in the hold of «Good,» said Matt with a genuine smile. «At least the ‘land’ lizards no longer seem a threat.» There were a couple of chuckles from the destroyermen nearby. «What’s the condition of the task force?» «All is well, Cap-i-taan Reddy,» Keje said, but then he put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes. Adar continued for him. «No serious damage yesterday, or in the fighting with the Grik ships. Ammunition is depleted. We expended more than half of what we brought. As you know, weight and storage is not a problem, only production. We brought what we had. As more is made in Baalkpan, it will be sent.» Matt nodded. «What about those feluccas we couldn’t account for?» Rick Tolson spoke up. «We found one, Skipper. Hard aground in the shoals around those crummy little islands off the southeast coast of Madura. Everybody got off okay, but the ship was a total loss.» He shook his head. «Lucky we didn’t lose a dozen of ’em in there. No sign of the others. Lizards must’ve got ’em.» «Poor bastards,» muttered Gray. Matt glanced at him, then looked at the bay where «Well, now that it’s clear our exuberant Mr. Dowden has saved my ship from further exposure to freshwater, I guess I’ll report that she came through the fighting with no damage except for some scorched paint, some busted glass, and the loss of one of her propeller blades.» The Lemurian sea folk all nodded seriously at the news. They’d never seen The fact that their culture — at least that of the sea folk — revolved around the reality of moving air, or wind, must have given them a pretty good grasp of the idea that air had substance whether you could see it or not. There were enough creatures that flew to prove flight was possible too. So from there, the notion that people might fly in a machine of some sort wasn’t as big a stretch to them as it probably would have been among Bronze Age humans. Anyway, it was just another example of how sophisticated Lemurians could sometimes be. He didn’t know why it surprised him anymore. «That brings up another matter,» he said, addressing Jim Ellis. «I want Jim whistled. «That’s a tall order, Skipper. How are we going to get at them? Hell, we can’t even go in the water.» Matt was relieved that Jim didn’t show more resentment at the prospect of crippling his ship further. He hated to ask it of him, but he didn’t see any choice. If «I don’t know, Jim, but we’ll think of something. I’ll get with you after the meeting and we can hash it out. We’ll work out a schedule to get «Civil war,» growled Rolak through Adar. «Warriors came out during the night, warriors loyal to me. They told of fighting throughout the city and. horrible deeds.» He cast down his eyes. «It seems that by trying to save my city’s honor, I may have caused its destruction. None have come out since morning, though, and I don’t know what’s happening now. My best guess is that the king’s loyalists have retaken control of the main gate.» «What happened?» Matt asked gently. Lord Rolak sighed. «As you know, when Fet-Alcas refused to allow us to strike the enemy rear, as we agreed, my forces and those of Queen Maraan swept north through the city and came out through the north gate. We had to fight to get out even there. Apparently, word spread of the specifics of the disagreement and many were appalled not only by the king’s treachery but also by the fact that they had been deprived of participating in such a great battle. I know it may be hard for some of you to understand, but to watch such a fight from behind stout walls and do nothing, regardless of the honor at stake, would be difficult for Aryaalans to bear. Fet-Alcas has never been a popular king. He assumed the throne upon the death of his brother, who Safir Maraan nodded. «Tac-Alcas was a worthy opponent,» she agreed without reluctance. «We warred with him often and he was difficult, difficult, but my father respected his courage, as well as his honor. As did I. Tac-Alcas would never have betrayed us as his brother didtgt; «We must talk to them, nevertheless. Whoever’s in charge,» Matt observed. «Indeed. Many of my warriors who would wish to join you still have families within those walls. None of them are bound by my friendship with you, although most will consider themselves so. I will storm the city myself, if necessary, to get their families out.» «Hopefully that won’t be necessary,» Sandra said in a fervent tone. Heads nodded in unison and Matt cleared his throat. «Well. That’s pretty much how things sit, I believe. The way I see it, we have, almost in spite of ourselves, won a major victory here. It was costlier than it should have been and we’re not in as good a shape as we’d hoped to be at this point. But that doesn’t change the ultimate strategy of our campaign. We’ve got to keep up the pressure and move against Singapore as quickly as possible. The intelligence we gained from the captured charts suggests the enemy has only an outpost there so far. While we can presume that the force we destroyed here probably at least stopped off at Singapore, there’s no indication in the charts that they dropped off any sizable force. That being said, I expect that’s probably where the ships that escaped the battle in the bay retreated to, but they left their troops behind. With the addition of Queen Maraan’s troops, and those of Lord Rolak, we should have sufficient forces to evict them — if we act before they reinforce.» He looked at the gathered faces and wished again that he had some inkling of their thoughts. «Therefore, our priorities are these: first, bring the B’mbaadan and Aryaalan troops up to speed as quickly as possible.» Matt let his gaze rest on Queen Maraan and Lord Rolak in turn. «That’s going to take considerable cooperation from both of you. Your people are proud warriors and they may resist training in the new tactics, particularly since their instructors will be ‘mere’ sea folk.» «They won’t resist,» Queen Maraan assured him. «Not after yesterday.» Matt hoped she was right and he tried to hide his skepticism. He knew how difficult it had been for Europe to accept the lessons of modern war that Americans learned during their own Civil War. «Second, I want every felucca in the fleet either transporting supplies from Baalkpan or scouting the coastlines for any further incursions by the enemy. If they’ve established other outposts — at Tjilatjap, for example — we must know about it immediately. We’ll also reconnoiter toward Singapore. Rick Tolson and Kas-Ra-Ar will assemble a small squadron of the fastest craft around «Understood, Captain.» «I also want the wounded out.» He looked speculatively at his battle line commanders. «We should move them aboard a Home. Decide among yourselves which one it’ll be.» Matt had no doubt they would choose «Skipper, I really don’t think you should let yourself get caught up in any more desperate land battles, and I’d take it as a personal favor if you’d refrain.» Both of Matt’s eyebrows rose then, but he managed a chuckle. «I had to be there, Jim. Nakja-Mur and all the High Chiefs put me in overall command. It would have looked pretty lousy if I wasn’t willing to face the same danger as those I was supposed to be leading. Hell, Keje was there.» «Keje was there because «Well, you’re the one who so forcefully assured me I’m not indispensable,» Matt reminded her with a gentle smile. «I lied,» she retorted. She wasn’t smiling. Matt’s grin faded and he looked at her intently for a moment. Jim seemed to be considering his words. When he spoke, at first it appeared he was changing the subject. «When’s the last time the men got paid?» he asked. Matt blinked at the apparent non sequitur. «Before we left the Philippines,» he answered guardedly. «What do you suppose would have happened, before the War, if they’d gone that long without pay?» Matt made a «what next» gesture, wondering when Jim would get to the point. But instead of Jim, Sandra spoke up. «What he’s trying to say is you «She’s right, Skipper,» Jim said solemnly. «If anything happened to you, it would probably all fall apart. I’m only beginning to learn what all you’ve managed to accomplish in Balikpapan. I mean, «Besides,» he continued, «from a purely selfish perspective, think what it would do to the crew. You’re the last visible vestige of supreme authority they have left to cling to. The last physical connection to the world they’ve lost — to normalcy, I guess, and duty. They still follow your orders because you’re The Captain, and that’s the way it’s supposed to be. Even here.» Jim looked down at his feet for a moment, and then met Matt’s eyes again. «I like to think I could fill your shoes on the bridge someday, as far as seamanship is concerned. Believe me, I thought about that a lot over the last few months. Then I look at «We were lucky,» Matt murmured. «Maybe so, but that wasn’t all.» Jim stopped and rubbed his temples, but when he spoke again his expression was pained. «I don’t know if I could’ve stopped Kaufman or not. It never dawned on me that he’d try to take over the ship. Then, when he did, I never thought anyone would obey him, but they did. After what Spanky McFarlane stood on McFarlane was surrounded by half a dozen helpers, snipes and deck-apes together. All stared at the water as if it were fresh molten lava oozing from the ocean floor. The most persistent shark had never received as much attention as the smaller but infinitely more numerous «flashies» did. A short distance away, so close the ’guards almost touched, floated Cheers and happy, good-natured jeering broke out on Ignoring the noise, Spanky, Laney, and Silva too were staring intently at the water. Dead flashies, belly-up, appeared at the surface. Many trailed bloody tendrils but most were unmarked. The other crewmen on both ships quickly forgot their momentary indignity or amusement and joined them in their scrutiny of the grenade’s effect. A large flashy swirled and bumped gently against the side of the ship. It twitched. It twitched again. For an instant, they thought it had resuscitated itself, but then it jerked violently and a dark cloud spread around it. Within moments, the surface of the water around and between the two destroyers’ propeller guards boiled and seethed with ravenous flashies as they gorged on the bodies of their schoolmates. Laney looked at Spanky, his face a pale, waxy green. «Fire in the hole!» Spanky warned this time, and dropped the second grenade. The effect was similar to the first, with the exception that the «Oh, well,» Spanky grumped, regarding Laney with deadpan remorselessness. «Back to plan A.» «Captain, Lieutenant Mallory’s on the horn,» reported the radioman,"Clancy. «He’s crossing Madura — I mean B’mbaado — now, sir.» «Very well,» Matt acknowledged. «Tell him to watch out for wrecks in the bay when he sets down.» «Aye, sir,» came the reply and Clancy disappeared back down the ladder. «Too bad we can’t just roll a depth charge over the side,» Steve Riggs said, resuming the interrupted conversation. «We still have a full load of those.» Garrett shook his head. «A depth charge is not a hand grenade. If we did that, we’d blow the stern right off the ship.» Matt nodded agreement. He was sitting in his chair on the bridge sipping «monkey joe,» the local equivalent of coffee, which actually looked and tasted somewhat like coffee except for the greenish foam. He mostly just listened while his officers and senior NCOs brainstormed about the propeller problem. «I can’t send a man over the side,» Spanky said. «He’d be torn to bits.» «Maybe we could beach Gray grunted. «That’s all we need. Our own little Honda Point.» He referred to the 1923 catastrophe when seven four-stackers ran hard aground on the California coast in a dense fog. «A fine stupid mess we’d be in then.» Matt shook his head. «I have to say, that’s my least favorite option so far, gentlemen. Nobody wants to deliberately beach his ship.» «Maybe we could build a cage of some sort,» Sandison speculated. «Lower it over the side next to the screw and let the divers take it off through the bars.» Spanky looked at the torpedo officer with surprise. «Hey! That might work. We’ve only got the one little crane aft for handling the depth charges and it won’t lift a screw, but we could use it for the cage and then rig a boom off the main mast to raise the propeller, I bet.» «Keep working on it. I know you’ll get it figured out,» Matt said. Then he frowned and looked at his watch. «I’m afraid Mr. Ellis and I have to leave you now. We have. a couple of funerals to attend.» He glanced at Garrett and Chief Gray. «You too. The men we lost were in your divisions. Have the burial party turned out as sharply as they can manage.» He sighed and stood carefully from his chair, groaning slightly. «I’ll meet you ashore at, say, sixteen hundred. The Lemurians have some sort of funeral planned for dusk, I believe. We may have to be flexible, but I want to bury our people as close to eighteen hundred as we can.» «You sure we shouldn’t just bury them at sea?» Gray asked quietly. Matt took a breath and grimly let it out. «I’m sure. I hated putting Marvaney over the side and I’ve never felt right about it. Not like I probably would. back home. Not like I «Sixteen hundred, Mr. Dowden,» reminded Matt as Riggs replied to the lookout. «Carry on here. Show the flag at half-mast, if you please, and I’ll want one to take ashore. I doubt we have enough to cover them all, so we’ll just have to make do.» Instead of departing as he’d intended, he remained a moment longer with a thoughtful expression. In the distance, the droning engines of the PBY could be faintly heard. «What happened to our flag they carried during the battle?» «The Second Marines, Skipper. They have it,» Gray answered. Matt nodded with approval. «Good. We’ll use that one instead.» «Aye, aye, sir,» they chorused. Freshly shaved and dressed in his less than pristine whites, Matt appeared at the place he had specified for the burial services to commence. Sstared somberly at the Marines guarding the five small graves. There might have been six as far as Matt was concerned, had the ’Cat they lost during the Battle of the Bay not gone over the side. The location of the new cemetery caused considerable controversy. Matt insisted on the flat, high ground right beside the road from the waterfront and just a short distance in front of the hasty breastworks they’d thrown up facing — and in clear view of — Aryaal’s main gate. From which, there had still been no word at all. Lord Rolak joined them, as did Queen Maraan. Rolak had polished his armor and replaced his missing plume, but in spite of his expressionless eyes, his deep frown left no doubt he was troubled. He spoke to Captain Reddy through Courtney Bradford. «My lord,» he began hesitantly, «I am yours, as you know, and will do as you command. But since you’ve placed the burden of friendship upon me, it is my duty to counsel against this act.» Matt turned cold eyes upon him as he continued. «If we and the sea folk agree on one thing, it is that the souls of the dead belong in the heavens, where they are taken by the flames of the pyre. Not planted in the ground — from which they may never ascend.» Rolak had little experience upon which to base his perception of human expressions, but Matt’s darkening mood was clear enough. As a credit to his courage, he continued. «Pleasther intentionally or otherwise — you don’t share it at all! This ‘burying’ of souls in the ground is proof enough of that!» He stopped and glanced at Rolak. «Although, if it must be done, I find it highly appropriate for you to do it here.» Matt looked at his friend with new respect. With a human Bronze Age priest, this would have been about when the torches would be lit. «You’re not angry that we don’t share your beliefs?» Sandra asked. «Of course not,» Adar replied. «No one can be forced to accept the True Faith. It would not then be True, would it? I was only. uncomfortable. when I thought you mocked it.» He looked darkly at Rolak. «As the Aryaalans do.» Rolak sniffed. «A lie,» he said pedantically. Matt was looking at the Marines and the graves they guarded. «You might be wrong, Adar. My people sail many winds to reach the same destination, but once there, I believe the place might yet still be the same. Perhaps the same as yours.» A commotion grew behind them and they saw the approach of seven destroyermen dressed in whites. They had probably scrounged both ships to find so many bright, clean outfits. All of them carried Springfields on their shoulders and they marched in step well enough, despite being more than a little rusty. Matt swelled at the sight, as well as when he saw the battle-scarred American flag that had been rescued by the Second Marines leading the way. He was surprised to see who carried it. Walking slowly in front of the riflemen, also dressed in whites with gaiters laced on above his bare feet and with his battered helmet on his head, was Chack-Sab-At. His eyes were grimly set and focused before him and his tail was held erect as it swayed back and forth behind him as he walked. The firing party halted beside the graves and the flag fluttered in the breeze between them and the walls of Aryaal. «I have to go now,» Matt said quietly, and stepped quickly through the Marine guard to stand before the graves, facing the growing crowd with his back to the city. He reached into his coat pocket to retrieve his small Bible, but found himself faced with the difficulty of opening it with one hand. Sandra rushed to join him, opening the book to a page where he had inserted a small piece of paper. He looked at her and smiled. «Please stay,» he said. She returned his smile with a supportive one of her own and took her place beside him. A column of thirty destroyermen was moving toward them, swaying in step from side to side. Between each group of six was the body of one of their comrades, sewn in his mattress cover. Chief Gray led the procession, hobbling on his crutches. When they drew even with Ellis, Jim joined the Chief and the column followed the pair to the graves. Matt noticed that almost half of the party who bore the bodies of his crewmen were Lemurians, in spite of what might be a religious aversion toward what they were doing. He felt a surge of affection for them, mingled with a sadness that the original crews of the two destroyers had dwindled so far. When the bodies were deposited beside the graves, the bearers stepped back. To Matt’s further surprise, the final member of the procession was a stony-faced Dennis Silva. Before him in his hands he carefully carried Mack Marvaney’s portable phonograph. He stepped into position beside Chief Gray where a bugler would have been if they’d had one, set the phonograph on the ground, and opened it. It had already been wound and he merely released the brake and positioned the needle on a record as the turntable began to spin.Walker. Many of those in the gathered crowd gasped at the unexpected music, but Matt felt a sudden tightness in his throat and a strange pressure behind his eyes. He blinked. Looking sidelong at Sandra, he saw a sad, wistful expression and as the anthem ended and Silva leaned down to turn off the machine, he saw tears streaming down the gunner’s mate’s face. Tears for Tom Felts, or Mack Marvaney, or any of the dozens they’d lost, there was no way to know. Or maybe he was just thinking about all they’d left behind. «Pa- Matt cleared his throat and looked at the book Sandra held open for him. Then he shook his head. «I never was one much for church,» he apologized, «and I guess we’ve all missed a few services lately.» Some of the men chuckled quietly, in spite of themselves. «It’s not my way, or my place, I think, to preach a sermon here today. I do want to say a few words about these men we are burying, as well as all the rest of you destroyermen. Like all of us — except maybe Juan — Tom Felts and Glen Carter, Andy Simms, Loris Scurrey, and Gil Olivera were a long way from home even before the Japs bombed Pearl and Cavite. For some reason, all of us are even farther away now. Tom was from Arkansas. Glen and Andy were both from Ohio. Gil was from New York and Loris was from California.» He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. «Mr. Ellis is from Virginia and so is Lieutenant Tucker. Sonny Campeti is from New Jersey and Frankie Steele is from Brooklyn. Chief Gray and Dennis Silva are from Alabama. I miss Texas as much as any of you miss the places you’re from.» He shrugged. «We might be stuck here, however it happened. My guess is we probably are. But no matter how far we’ve come from those places we yearn for, they’ll always be with us — part of us — deep down. And no matter how far apart they were from each other, those places had one thing in common. They were part of the United States of America, and that made us all Americans.» He looked out at the faces of the firing party and the bearers, and some of the others who had come ashore. He saw out into the bay where He paused for a long moment before continuing. «A few of us have gone even farther than the others now, but it’s my belief that, in so doing, they’ve gotten closer to home, not farther away. I believe there’s one God, above all things, who made the world we came from and this one too. Has to be. Only God could’ve figured out anything as complicated as «Never was much good at public speaking,» he demurred. «You did all right, Skipper,» Ellis repeated. «Yes, you did,» Sandra agreed. «And you know? Maybe you’re right. About why we’re here, I mean.» «Makes as much sense as anything,» said Jim. «And if it’s true, it proves God sure is an imaginative guy.» «What do you mean?» «The way the war was going back home, and in the shape our ships were in, «God works in mysterious ways, huh?» quoted Matt with a small smile of his own. «What an understatement.» The crowd dispersed, many to attend to their military duties but most to continue preparations for the Lemurian service later that evening. Labor parties resumed tearing down the wooden warehouses that lined the wharf to use them for fuel for the pyres. Others swarmed over one of the Grik hulks that had been driven ashore during the battle and were quickly reducing it to its skeletal framework. The ghetto housing, such as it was, was left untouched. The allied commanders were unhappy about the necessity of destroying the warehouses — or any property at all — but since there was no suitable timber nearby, they had no choice. They needed all the wood they could find to send this unprecedented number of souls to the sky. At least the warehouses were mostly empty, their contents having been moved into the city when the Grik arrived. «An. unusual ceremony,» remarked Keje to Adar and Rolak, referring to the Amer-i-caan funeral they’d just seen. Keje had arrived late and had been supported by his disapproving daughter. He was still dizzy from the blow on his head. «Unusual,» Adar agreed thoughtfully. «Short, too. And very somber. Their grief was quite clear.» «They see death more as an ending than we do, perhaps. As if they do not expect to meet their lost ones again,» Keje speculated. «I think not,» countered Adar. «Cap-i-taan Reddy told me to hear his words and I might better understand their faith.» He shook his head. «I listened, but my understanding is no less uncertain. I think he was right, however, that we may only sail a different wind to the same destination. They certainly «Even more reason not to hide their dead underground.» Adar looked at his lifelong friend but shook his head at Keje’s obtuseness. «You know as well as any novice priest that the souls of those lost at sea will rise to the heavens as surely as those sent by the pyre. The smoke of the pyre is symbolic. The ashes of the dead that rise within it settle back to the land or sea, in time. No,» he continued, «their customs may seem bizarre, even distasteful. But the meanings behind them are not so different as they may at first appear. I will have to speak more with them about this, but I think we must consider: they are willing to fight and die with us despite a fear that if they The three Lemurians lingered in silence a short while longer, watching as the mixed human and Lemurian burial party proceeded with their chore. Shovelfuls of soil disappeared into the rectangular holes with soft thumping sounds. «It was surely a ceremony for warriors,» Rolak stated. «Except for the part when they are buried.» The Lemurian «service» was just as alien to the human destroyermen who witnessed it as theirs had been to the Lemurians. Matt watched the initial ceremony accompanied by Jim, Sandra, and Courtney. Except for the firing party, whom Matt had ordered to remain as a show of honor and respect, most of the other members of the funeral party had returned to the ship. He’d ordered Gray to go, ostensibly to help coordinate repairs but mainly to get him off his feet. To his surprise, all the Lemurian destroyermen returned to the ship as well. All except Chack, who had remained behind along with the equally surprising Dennis Silva. Silva sent the phonograph back with Stites but stayed ashore talking quietly with Chack, waiting for the Lemurian funeral to get under way. Matt doubted they had ended their feud, but they appeared to be observing a truce for the evening, at least. Matt joined them briefly, out of curiosity. «Chack?» he said. «Sir?» «Why did the other people. your people, go back to the ship? I thought I made it clear they were welcome to stay.» Chack looked at him and then glanced out at the deepening gloom of the bay, beyond the pier, where the two ships lay. Nearby, and lower down, the dark silhouette of the PBY floated now as well. The Lemurian ceremony was about to take place on the west side of the point, nearest to Madura, where «They grieve, Cap-i-taan,» he said. «But they are Navy men, yes? They are destroyermen.» Matt nodded. «Yes. They are.» « Matt was taken aback. «What do you mean, Chack?» «When I came to Matt was perplexed for a moment; then realization dawned. «No! I mean, yes, He looked at Sandra and saw the torchlight reflecting off her gold-tinged, sandy hair and fresh-scrubbed face. Her nurse’s uniform was immaculate and exotically feminine compared to the dungarees she wore day to day. He couldn’t help it, but a deep sadness, unrelated to the day’s events, swept over him and he looked away so fast that his throbbing shoulder made him wince. She looked ey would have us believe that everything, even the delay in speaking to us after the battle, was caused by confusion while they hunted the murderous conspirators.» Matt shook his head. «Sounds awfully Byzantine to me — or Soviet.» Courtney Bradford laughed out loud. «I don’t believe we need look to Uncle Joe Stalin for examples of a dirty and complicated rise to power. Our own shared English history is replete enough with those, Captain.» Matt smiled. «I’m Irish American, with a fair measure of Scot. O’Roddy — Reddy — you know.» «Hmm.» They were aboard Sergeant Alden came to help Shinya integrate the B’mbaadan forces into the AEF. His envy of the Japanese officer regarding his role in the battle had been palpable. He managed to contain it, however, and the burgeoning friendship between the tough Marine and the former enemy lieutenant wasn’t in danger. Alden was gone again, but the news from «home» was welcome, and good for the most part. The Baalkpan defenses were strengthening every day and the cottage arms industry was beginning to flourish. Matt knew One «relationship» Matt thoroughly approved of seemed to be flourishing as well. He looked at Queen Maraan with a puzzled expression. «Queen Protector, I just realized you spoke to us in English.» «Yes,» she confirmed with a toothy grin and a series of blinks that indicated pleasure. «I spoke. Did well?» «You sure did,» Jim Ellis confirmed. «We take this. Sin-Po-Ar. war end?» asked the Orphan Queen. Matt sadly shook his head. «No, Queen Protector. It won’t even be the beginning of the end,» he said, quoting Churchill. «But it’ll be the end of the beginning.» «My God!» exclaimed Bradford. «I wonder what dear Winston would think to hear his words used in this context?» «I bet he’d find it appropriate,» Matt responded thoughtfully. «And pretty familiar too — except I don’t really believe the Krauts eat their prisoners.» «Ready to go!» announced Spanky over the intercom at the auxiliary conn on top of the aft deckhouse. His voice was more gruff than usual with repressed tension as he watched the slack go out of the cables that trailed past the propeller guards. A vicious squall had marched across the bay late that morning, threatening to delay the operation. It passed quickly enough, however, leaving the sky bright and clear and the water almost dead calm. Now the only thing marring the otherwise perfect Java day was the customary oppressive heat and humidity — and, of course, the critical nature of the task at hand. Spanky spared an unusual sympathetic glance at Dean Laney, who stood beside the starboard depth-charge rack, shivering, in shock most likely. He was black and blue with bruises, and Silva, just as uncharacteristically, had draped him in a blanket as soon as he came out of the suit. They’d hoped to use a welded-steel cage to lower the machinist into the sea, but there was one problem they just couldn’t solve. It had to be tight enough to keep out the smaller flashies, but still let Laney work through it to secure the cables and remove the huge nuts that held the screw in place. Ultimately, they resorted to the ancient technique of passing one of It may have been noise or movement, but even though they sensed nothing edible, they began bumping aggressively against the bulging canvas with their hard, bony heads. Often, of necessity, Laney was right behind it and they very nearly beat him to death. Somehow he managed to finish the job in spite of the pain and terror. Spanky cringed to think what would have happened if any of the blows had broken the skin. Even through his suit, enough blood would have entered the water to drnt size="3»gt;«Hey.!» «You idiot snipe! You tryin’ to jinx us? I guess the Skipper knows what he’s doin’! Here, gimme that blanket back!» A short Lemurian ordnance striker named Pak-Ras-Ar, hence of course, Pack Rat, stood behind the pair and Silva threw the blanket at him. «Here, Pack Rat. You have it. I ain’t sleepin’ under no damn snipe-sweaty blanket!» Pack Rat held the blanket at arm’s length and wrinkled his nose. «Smells mostly like Silva sweat to me,» he said. «Goddamn little hairball.» On the deckhouse, Dowden took off his hat and ran shaking fingers through his greasy hair. The captain’s expression was like stone as he calculated the angle. How could he be so calm? What he didn’t see was Matt’s left hand shaking at his side and the typhoon of acid roiling in his stomach. His right hand was on the wheel, the only thing that kept it still. «Signal to «Starboard ahead full,» he said quietly. Black smoke chuffed skyward from the aft stacks and «She’s comin’ up!» Silva bellowed unnecessarily as the cables raced from the depths once more. Fifty, sixty, seventy yards — the distance quickly grew. There was a hundred yards of cable. Suddenly there came a tremendous, wrenching groan and it felt as if «All stop!» Matt cried. Dowden passed the word and then ran to the rail. Below him, Silva and Laney were trying to heave on the line that trailed over the side. «Do we have it?» he shouted down. «Aye, sir! And it’s heavy enough! I hope we didn’t yank Dowden pounded the rail in triumph. «Quit fooling around with that line, men. You’ll never lift it without a winch!» «Ain’t tryin’ to lift it, sir, just want to feel if it hits bottom. We got three hundred feet of line and three hundred twenty feet of water — we think.» Dowden’s face grew troubled. «Well. let us know.» Spanky sighed with relief and turned to relay the report from the engine room. «Seals are fine, Skipper. No more water coming in than usual.» « Matt nodded, keeping his hand on the wheel so it wouldn’t betray him. «Thank Him indeed,» he said. «Good work, Mr. McFarlane. Pass the word to all hands: Well done.» He grinned because of one selfish, perverted, racist bastard. A lot was up to the girl. They’d allowed Pam a few minutes to assemble a bag and without even a glance at Franklen she rushed to the young victim and began a quick, softly murmured examination. As she and Risa began to ask quiet questions, the grim-faced men turned to the prisoner. Chack crouched beside him in the sand, resting his chin on his cutlass guard, staring at him from inches away, his inscrutable eyes somehow radiating malice. «Pull his gag,» Gray instructed. He looked at Chack. «If he does anything but quietly answer questions, kill him.» He peered hard into Franklen’s eyes. «You got that? You answer questions and keep a civil tongue, you might just survive this night.» In spite of himself, Franklen snorted and blood bubbled from his shattered nose. The Bosun shrugged and nodded at Donaghey, who yanked out the nasty, bloody rag. Franklen coughed and spat for several minutes before his spasm subsided enough that he might be understood. Finally he spoke. «You gonna kill me any-ay, Chee. You ne’er ’iked me.» Black blood and wrecked lips made him almost unintelligible. «Not so. I thought you were funny as hell. When you’re made-up, you’re not near as ugly. You can act and talk as much like Al Jolson as anybody I ever seen, and you can tell the funny stories like he can. You just wouldn’t leave well enough alone. Hell, a lot of the coolies and Filipino guys got treated like crap for days after one of your shows. Not to mention the mess attendants.» He snorted. «Besides, I got news for you: you can’t whistle and you can’t sing. and your big Hollywood role model — who loaned you the only popularity you ever had — is a Jew!» «Das a damn lie!» Gray rolled his eyes. «An for de others,» Franklen went on, «they was just lyin’ Tagalog Bastards. Flips. Like Nigras back home. Takin’ jobs in de fact’ries from hardworkin’ white men just ’cause they’d work for less.» He looked around and sneered as best he could. «And now these goddamn ’Cats puttin’ on airs like real destroyermen. Real soljers!» Gray slapped him hard. He couldn’t help himself. «Like real people, you mean? You don’t even think of ’em like that, do you? You figure you can just have your way with one like one of your farm animals back home. Is that about the size of it?» Franklen stared at him defiantly. «You’re one to talk.» His tiny eyes squinted around. «All of you, I bet.» They fell at last on Silva. «And you most of all, you ’Cat-lovin’ traitor!» Gray and Donaghey almost weren’t quick enough to stop Silva from drawing the long bayonet at his side and ramming it into the top of Franklen’s head. Chack stood up, though, and watched Silva’s reaction with interest — as well as that of his sister, who came partly uncoiled from around the victim Pam was tending. With both a shudder and a sense of wonder, he realized their «carrying on» couldn’t be quite entirely a joke after all. Whatever it was, he was certainly getting a major contrast lesson in Silva and Risa’s relationship as opposed to others that were possible. «We can’t get anywhere with him.» Donaghey sighed emotionlessly. «He just don’t get it.» «I’ll get through to him,» Silva said softly, resheathing his bayonet and dropping to his knees in the sand. The two ’Cats who’d been holding Al fought his struggntgt;a stared across the tent at the intensity of the eyes that glowed back at him from the females. One was filled with a murderous passion and the other. similar, but with a measure of devastation he’d seen only once before. In the belly of «I’ll tell you something, Al. I like these ’Cats. A hell of a lot better than I like you. And I do think of ’em as ‘people.’ Hell, maybe even human. They’re a lot more human than you are; that’s a fact. I’ve fought with ’em and worked with ’em and spilled my blood alongside ’em. We’ve helped them and they’ve helped us.» He pointed at the crumpled child. «I don’t recognize her after what you done, but I bet I’ve fought alongside her!» He looked intently at Franklen. «The way I hear it, you never fought alongside anybody. Why don’t you tell us what you’ve done for ‘us humans’ since we got here, Al, ’cause by all accounts, it ain’t much. You supported Kaufman’s mutiny against Mr. Ellis, and look how many died because of that.» «Pardoned,» Franklen gummed, but Silva went on. «Let’s see, how many battles «Well, let’s see. I seen — helped — the ’Cats fight like hell to save «We were screwed, Silva, you dumb son of a bitch! Just look around yourself! The stupid ’Cats around here wouldn’t talk to us. They didn’t even care about the Griks until it was too late. All they cared about was fightin’ each other.» He spat a gobbet of blood. «Ellis weren’t no officer. He couldn’t get anything sorted out between ’em. And I did too agree to work on the ship.» «You agreed to work on the ship — for a pardon,» Gray glowered, «because the ship was so shorthanded. Mr. Ellis should’a hung you. Instead, your skipper Silva raised his eyebrows. «So on top of everything else, you really are a coward.» He shook his head. «Except where little girls are concerned. All you could think of, the first time nobody’s really watchin’ you, was grabbin’ up some. child and tearin’ her up like that. What were you gonna do next? You couldn’t have let her live.» There was a sharp intake of breath and suddenly everyone in the tent knew Silva was right. «Nah, Silva,» Franklen gushed. «It wasn’t like that! I wouldn’t’a really hurt her. I just wanted a piece — like you got!» «Silva no have ‘piece,’ you piece of «Now see,» Franklen whined, «I got no problem with that! That’s what» He was almost dead before Silva and Chack could pull Risa off him and move her back across the tent. Gray, Donaghey, Laney, and Steele were kneeling over the unconscious form as if deciding what to do with a dead snake, when Silva and Chack returned. Silva didn’t come right out and say «Sorry about that,» but his body language did. He did apologize for «using up all the air so far.» «Hell. You just said what everybody was thinking,» said Gray. «Make no mistake. This is a trial. He’s admitted what he done, and you pointed out it would have been a lot worse if he hadn’t got caught.» «Who caught him, anyway?» «Steele. Sheer luck. He was runnin’ a final check before he went on deck for the party and heard her cries. Damn, he’s got good ears! Franklen had her down in Silva felt another uncharacteristic twinge of guilt. «How much of me and Risa ‘carrying on’ mighta, you know, contributed?» Several faces became unreadable. «I don’t reckon any,» said Gray at last. «For one thing, nobody really knew «So,» Chack said at last, «what shall we do with this creature?» For the first time in a long time, he didn’t appear to be thinking about Silva when he said the word «creature.» Maybe he’d started to think over what his sister and friend had said — or maybe their «relationship» had finally been put in perspective for him. «We’ve already decided we can’t make an example of him, which is actually a shame. There are more than a few of my people who don’t think of humans as ‘people’ either.» «That’s changing fast enough. We’ve spilled enough blood together. Besides, most of the ones who feel that way are on the other side of that wall, yonder, or they’ve run off.» Franklen was fully conscious again when Gray finished. «And pretty soon, there’ll be one less of ours who feels like that.» «Let’s ask the girl,» Laney suddenly blurted. They were the first words he spoke. Donaghey nodded. «Yeah. Let’s see what she wants to do with him.» Franklen began to thrash and moan, but the bloody gag went back in his mouth and Chack and Laney held him again. Having made the suggestion, Laney was more than willing to let others carry it out. The last thing he wanted to do, in his heart of hearts, was speak to a teenage rape victim of Franklen, who had awakened and was looking back. «And I want to eat his eyes.» Donaghey glanced at his watch. «Whatever we do, and whatever she eats, we better get on with it. Sooner or later «Right,» agreed Gray. «Call ’em in and we’ll sort this out.» Except for Russ Chapelle and the Lemurian Marines, everyone else managed to squeeze in the tent. They made solicitous comments as they passed by «Blossom,» but had only hard stares for their former shipmate. «We ain’t gonna have no jury,» Gray said. «The ‘accused’ was caught in the act, admitted what he done, and invited Mr. Steele to ‘get some’ himself. No one has since heard him deny he raped and brutalized one of our young female allies. He Steele sighed. «We’re kind of in the same boat there. There’s only one punishment for what he did, and he probably would’ve done worse before he was finished.» «I never figured chiefs had so much power,» Laney whispered. «This ain’t in the book!» «No, it ain’t,» Gray growled. «There’re lots of things that ain’t in the book. This world we’ve wound up in, for one. But chiefs have always ‘handled’ things.» Gray looked at Donaghey. «And this ain’t the first time we handled somethin’ like this. Sometimes problems just have to go away and Franklen’s turned himself into one of those problems tonight. With all that’s at stake, we can’t dump this on the captain.» «It will even look better from our point of view,» confirmed Chack, speaking very close to Franklen’s ear, «if news of this. event comes forward over time. It will show your people honor your leader and the alliance, but you also honor a youngling’s virtue enough not to wait until the ‘time is right’ to sort things out.» Blossom bristled at the «youngling,» but Chack blinked reassuringly. «You are still a youngling — I am scarcely beyond that myself — but you are also a Marine.» «So, how are we gonna do it?» Silva asked, ever practical and to the point. «I’d kinda’ like to get some more dancin’ in before the party winds down.» «We can’t shoot him, for obvious reasons,» Donaghey mused. «Easiest thing is to take him down to the water and just throw him in. Let the flashies have him,» said Silva. «Where’d ol’ Al Jolson go? Hell if I know. Musta’ got drunk that night at the propeller party and fell in the water. Yeah, seen him swipin’ everybody’s half-empty seep cups when they was dancin’. Serves the bastard right.» Gray looked thoughtful. «Say, that’s just how we’ll work it. You’re a fiend, Silva, but you’re a pretty good acting chief so far.» Throughout this exchange, Franklen was unable to speak, but his eyes had begun to move rapidly back and forth. They were talking about killing him, right in front of him, matter-of-factly, like he wasn’t even there. «You — You can’t do that!» protested Laney. Franklen leaned against him in relief and began to sob. «What do you mean?» Gray asked menacingly. Laney gulped, but didn’t look away. «I mean, kill him, sure. The bastard deserves it. eyes.» «Don’t worry. We won’t throw him in the water alive, and that girl is sure not gonna eat his eyes. We’ve got rules during these illegal gettogethers, Laney. That’s the thing that makes us different from the Grik and from guys like Al. We’ve got rules of decency, of honor to follow, even when we’re breaking the rules of the Navy. And it’s because we take those rules so seriously that we’re breaking them in the first place. To protect the honor of our Navy, our ships and our people. See?» «So how «He’s right,» said Steele. «Let’s get on with it. Lots or volunteers?» «Oh, for cryin’ out loud,» said Silva in an exasperated voice. «Somebody draws a short straw, or long straw, you gonna «Would you like to kill him, Dean?» Surprised, Laney looked around, then looked at the ground. Anywhere but at the prisoner or his victim. «No, Dennis, as a matter of fact I wouldn’t. Not in cold blood. I’ll do it, but I wouldn’t like to.» He looked up. «I guess I just ain’t the killer you are.» «Few are,» agreed Silva equably. «Thing is, I shouldn’t have to kill him either, even though, for reasons of my own, I’d really kind of like to. But we all been told a chief ’s job is to lead. Well, we’re all of us chiefs, or acting chiefs or petty officers now, but some are higher than others. I been here before, even if I never got The Hat, but I never could keep it because I didn’t want the responsibility.» He walked over and looked Gray in the eye. «A After a long moment, Gray nodded. «You would’a had The Hat a long time ago, Silva, if you weren’t such a maniac. Come on, we’ll do it together.» With Laney and Chack still each on an arm, Silva grabbed the burly quartermaster’s mate around the chest. Wide-eyed, he struggled and moaned through his gag. «I’ll pull this gag and let you have some last words if you’ll keep ’em quiet and decent,» Gray offered. Franklen went slack. Taking this as a sign he agreed, Gray pulled the bloody rag. Instantly, Al began screaming at the top of his lungs. Gray grabbed his head and began to twist and the screams abruptly ceased. «You hear that kind of weird crackin’ sound, Al? Sounds like it’s right under your skull? Just grunt if you do.» Franklen made a noncommittal sound. In Fitzhugh Gray’s very best Al Jolson voice (which wasn’t half bad) he spoke the real Al Jolson’s signature line: «You ain’t heard Rasik-Alcas, King and Protector of Aryaal, paced back and forth before the large arched window, his rich, supple gown flowing as he walked. Barely visible in the distance beyond the north wall, bonfires, lighted shipourselfidth="1em»gt;«Why?» Rasik snapped. Koratin bowed his head. «I am not sure, lord. Some needed repair, long delayed, is the word I hear. We have few spies among them yet.» Rasik-Alcas began to scold his senior and currently only advisor for taking so long to build a network of informants, but he hesitated. Lord Koratin represented one of the oldest houses in Aryaal, and the creature was politically savvy. He was urbane, vain, and quick to take offense — but fear would prevent him from challenging his new king. For now. Rasik was fairly sure that Koratin harbored firm suspicions as to how Fet-Alcas had died, but for now the Aryaalan noble seemed willing to let the matter stand, and even to help. It made Rasik uncomfortable to rely on Koratin for anything, particularly anything critical to his consolidation of power, but he had no choice. «Perhaps when their repairs are complete, they will go away,» Koratin speculated. Rasik growled. «Of course they will — to fight the Grik.» Koratin blinked. «Then that is good! They will be gone from here and things will become as before.» He paused. «We are weakened, true, but we can stand against B’mbaado. In time» «No!» shouted Rasik. «Don’t you see? As long as they war against the Grik, they will have a presence here! They will never go away as long as the war continues!» «Is that so terrible? What if the Grik return?» «Return?» Rasik snorted. «With what?» He gestured eastward. «Have you not seen the carrion beyond our walls? Mere bones now, but the bones of Koratin was not so sure. He proceeded carefully. «I have heard it said they are not like us — in more ways than are obvious. They breed quickly and their kingdom is vast. Some say they are the Demons of Old, come to harry us again, and what they sent here is but a tithe against what they are capable of.» «Nonsense! You really should let your females tell stories to your young.» Koratin’s devotion to his younglings was no secret, and he often recited tales to them — and others — in open forum. He enjoyed performing, and while he recognized his own failings, he secretly hoped he could atone to some degree by telling tales of real virtue and clear morals to the young. «You begin to believe your own fables,» Rasik accused. Koratin remained silent. «As long as the sea folk war against the Grik, we won’t be rid of them,» Rasik repeated, returning to the subject at hand. He resumed pacing, deep in thought. Then he stopped. «But what if the war was over?» «What do you mean, Lord King?» Rasik’s eyes had become predatory slits. «Tell me, Lord Koratin. Do you think those silly sea folk would have the courage to fight without the iron ships?» «No, Lord King,» Koratin answered honestly. «Do you believe they’d even consider carrying on without them?» Koratin felt a chill. «No, Lord King,» he whispered. Rasik barked a horrible laugh. «So simple!» he said and resumed his pacing, but forrion in one of the chairs around the wardroom table idly fingering a freshly stripped Grik skull, retrieved from the battlefield, while Juan Marcos and Ray Mertz cleared the dishes left by the dinner party. It had been a fine meal, mostly Americanized local fare, but a few purely native dishes had been presented. Bradford wasn’t accustomed to the unusual Lemurian spices and, for the most part, he just stuck to salt. At least salt hadn’t changed, thank God. His morbid trophy hadn’t elicited the excitement he expected when he flourished it at the beginning of the meal. He’d been politely but firmly asked to place it out of sight until everyone had eaten. Now, most of the diners had returned to their duties or joined the party on deck, leaving only the captain, Sandra, Jim, Keje, and Bradford himself. Without fanfare, the grisly thing reappeared upon the table. «This is the face our own world would have taken if whatever killed the dinosaurs. hadn’t,» Bradford announced muzzily, interrupting the conversation at the other end of the table. «Probably,» Matt agreed. They’d had this talk before. He began to resume his conversation with Jim. «But have you considered,» Bradford plowed on, «that maybe this is the way it «Well, there’s no doubt they’re intelligent,» agreed Ellis grudgingly, «and they’re certainly better fighters on land than at sea. I don’t see how that makes them ‘better natural predators’ than us. We beat them.» «Ah,» said Bradford, controlling a belch, «but we beat them with our minds, not our bodies. Only superior technology won the day, in the end. Consider: as far as we know, humanity has not risen on this world. We may be its only poor representatives. Where we come from, man is the greatest predator, but here that’s not the case. Here» — he tapped the skull" this creature — or similar races — might predominate all over the globe.» He shifted his bleary stare to Keje. «Even on the islands that the People control, there are Grik, are there not? You’ve said so yourself.» He paused. «We’ve seen them,» he remembered. «Primitive, aboriginal, but plainly related to the more sophisticated enemy we face.» Keje nodded, peering intently at the man. «What’s your point, Mr. Bradford?» Sandra asked quietly. The Australian’s fatalistic tone was giving her the creeps. «It’s quite simple, my dear. We all, myself included, have from the beginning considered the world we came from to be the ‘normal’ one — the ‘right’ one — and this world the aberration.» He blinked. «No offense, my dear Captain Keje.» The Lemurian blinked acknowledgment. «But if you compare just the sheer physical lethality, there’s no way we humans would ever have evolved to become ‘top dog,’ as you Americans so aptly put it, if these creatures had anything to say about it» His belch finally escaped. «Back home, that is. Here, we would have been an evolutionary impossibility. excuse me, please.» «But what about the ’Cats?» asked Matt. Bradford shrugged. «They apparently evolved more recently, in an isolated environment — Madagascar, I am quite sure. Two sentient species rising independently, but necessarily separate or it could never have taken place.» He stared at the skull. «At least Idat He was known as a malcontent malingerer and chances were he’d turn up in a day or so. Where could he go? Matt suddenly realized that Sandra’s small, soft hand had found its way into his own. Clearing his throat, he released her fingers so he could ostentatiously adjust his hat. He glanced around, but the bridge watch all seemed preoccupied with their duties. «It’s hard to watch them go,» Sandra murmured beside him. He nodded. To the south and east, the sky was clear and the harsh glow of the morning sun touched the wave tops with fire. To the north, however, the sky seemed smeared with a muddy brush. He stepped away from Sandra, heading toward the opposite wing, glancing up through the windows as he walked, until he saw the sky beyond the city in the west-northwest. Across the horizon, a great black mass was forming, as dark as the blackness of night. Wispy stringers of gray and white crawled across it like snakes, or worms. In spite of the morning heat, he felt a chill as Sandra joined him. «Keje said this was the stormy time of year,» he whispered nervously. «What’s that?» she asked. «Something bad.» Rick Tolson was having the time of his life. He’d always loved the sea — even as a kid, having run away aboard a fishing schooner when he was ten. He hadn’t enjoyed that life, to be honest, but it taught him a lot about the sea and sails and how to be a man. When he returned as a prodigal son, his father arranged for him to spend the summers with the crew of a sixty-five-foot racing yacht named He learned everything, and by the time he went to college he’d commanded Not in his wildest boyhood fantasies had he imagined that a Navy life would put him in command of what was, for all intents and purposes, a square-rigged frigate. Like Stephen Decatur, Isaac Hull, or Porter before Valparaiso, he was living the life of his childhood heroes with the greatest assignment any frigate captain could ask for: independent command. It was a fantasy come true, and he was loving every minute of it. Rick’s crew was entirely Lemurian, with the exception of an ordnance striker named Gandy Bowles, fresh off of «Good morning, Cap-i-taan,» greeted Kas-Ra-Ar as the Lemurian joined him on the weather side of the quarterdeck. «Morning, Kas.» Rick smiled. «A brisk day and a stiff wind.» He glanced aloft at the single-reefed topsails overhead. «When should we expect the plane, do you think?» Kas asked. Every four days, the PBY flew out and rendezvoused with them so it could carry a report of their sightings back to Surabaya. The latitude wasn’t prescribed for the meetings, but the longitude was. That way, the Catalina could just follow the line north until they met. In theory. «Sometime this afternoon, I think,» Rick replied to his sailing master’s question. «We’re farther north than they probably expect us, but not close enough to Singapore for Mallory to worry about being seen.» «Will the plane try to find us if there is a storm?» Kas asked, nodding toward the horizon. Rick had been watching the growing clouds since dawn. «You’ve got me there. If it gets bad, no.» Rick snorted. «If it was me, I wouldn’t let them fly the only bloody airplane in the world if the wind was over five miles an hour.» He glanced at his second in command and then pointed at the sky. «Do you think it’ll get bad?» Kas cocked his head to one side and blinked. «It is difficult to say. Possibly. This «So everyone keeps saying,» grumbled Rick. A silence stretched between them, but it was broken by a high-pitched cry from the maintop. «Deck there! Sail!» Rick snatched a speaking trumpet. «Where away?» There was a short pause while the lookaboring. «Two points the left. the Rick scrambled into the port main shrouds and secured himself as best he could. Then he raised his binoculars. Yes! There she was, running toward them under all plain sail. Probably trying to escape the storm building behind them, Rick mused. «Shake that reef out of the fore-tops’l!» he shouted. «We’ll wait till they get closer. Act like we’re turning to run, too. We’ll rake him as we turn!» He beamed down at Kas-Ra-Ar. «One way or another, it’s going to be an interesting day!» «Captain, the launch is alongside.» Matt nodded. «Single up all lines and prepare to cast off.» The rain was falling in sheets now, and he could barely see past the fo’c’sle. He was accustomed to the dense squalls of the region, but this was different. He could feel the power behind the thing. He wondered fleetingly if this would be the event that snatched them back where they belonged? For some reason, in spite of everything, he caught himself hoping it wasn’t. Jim was right. Back home, «The work detail is back aboard and the launch is hooking on,» Dowden reported as he entered the pilothouse. Water coursed down his saturated clothes and drained away through the strakes at his feet. The work detail had been winching the screw onto shore, raft and all, so that working against the dock wouldn’t damage it. The talker spoke again. «Radio says Lieutenant Mallory’s about to turn north, but it’s getting pretty boogery up there — his words — and he wants to know if you still want him to rendezvous with «No sense. He can’t set down even if he spots her. Tell him to make for Baalkpan. Fly around the storm if he can — he should have plenty of fuel.» The attention of the bridge watch was diverted by another figure entering the pilothouse. It was Keje. He must have come over on the launch that delivered Courtney Bradford, Sandra Tucker, and a few others to «Good afternoon, Cap-i-taan Reddy.» «Hello, Keje. I’m glad to see you, but we’re about to cast off. It looks like we’re going to have some of that ‘stormy’ weather you talked about.» Keje nodded agreement as he wrung water from his fur. «Indeed. Quite stormy.» «Well.» Matt paused, unsure how to continue. «Shouldn’t you be with your ship?» «Unnecessary. Both her feet are out,» he said, referring to the gi Matt looked at his friend for a moment, expressionless. «That’s fine, Keje,» he said at last. «Glad to have you. I don’t think I’ve ever heard that word, though. What’s a Strakka?» Keje waved his hand. «I don’t know if there is a proper word to describe Strakka in Amer-i-caan. The closest I can think of might be. typhoon? Is that it?» «You know what a typhoon is?» Matt asked with surprise. «Those are storms we only used to get in deeper waters than the Java Sea.» «Yes. Mr. Bradford described the typhoon very well. It did sound like a Strakka, but on a different scale.» Matt smiled. «Yeah, a typhoon’s as bad as they come. But you’re in for a heck of a ride aboard Keje looked at him and blinked. «No. You misunderstand. A typhoon is bad, but a Strakka.» He smiled tolerantly. «A Strakka can be much, The Mice had wedged themselves between the forward air lock of the aft fireroom and the access-hatch ladder. Nearby, clutching the grating as if the ship itself was trying to shake her loose, Tabby continued the dry retching that had wracked her small body since the storm began. Isak’s and Gilbert’s stoic expressions belied the real concern they felt for their furry companion. The monumental cacophony of sound was stunning even to them. The blowers howled as they sucked the sodden air, and the tired hull thundered and creaked as the relentless sea pounded against it. Condensed moisture rained from every surface to join the nauseating sewer that crashed and surged in the bilge as the ship heaved and pitched. The firemen on watch weren’t doing much either, just holding on as best they could and trying to supervise the gauges and fires. «Reckon she’s gonna die?» Gilbert Yager asked, peering through the muck that streaked his face. As close as they were, he still had to shout for Isak Rueben to hear him. Even Tabby’s soggy tail lay still — he’d never seen that before. Her ordinarily fluffy light-gray fur was almost black, and plastered to her body like it had been slicked down with grease. «Nah,» Isak Rueben reassured him after a judicious glance. «Poor critter’s just a little seasick, is all. Must be sorta’ embarrassin’ for her to be seasick after spendin’ her whole life at sea.» He was thoughtful. " ’Course, on them big ships o’ theirs, I don’t reckon it ever gets quite this frisky. Don’t carry on so. You’ll make her feel worse.» Gilbert looked at the exhausted, wretched, oblivious form. «Okay. She wouldn’t want us coddlin’ her.» He paused. «Damned if I ain’t feelin’ a little delicate myself,» he admitted, glancing around the dark, dank, rectangular compartment. He could certainly The air lock beside them opened, but the «whoosh» was lost in the overall din. Spanky McFarlane spilled out onto the grating, nearly landing atopcloe="3»gt;«Seasick, we figger,» Isak told him. «What’s she doin’ here? If she’s that sick, she ought’a be in her rack.» Spanky remembered then that he hadn’t seen Tabby for a couple of days. «She was,» Gilbert confirmed. «She crawled down here today. The roll’s just as bad, but there ain’t so much pitch. Maybe she’ll feel better.» Spanky hesitated. «Well, try to get her to drink something. She’ll get dehydrated.» The Mice nodded in unison. «Say, how’re things topside?» Isak asked, uncharacteristically interested in something besides the fireroom. Spanky blew his nose into his fingers and slung the ejecta into the bilge. «It’s a booger,» he said. «It’s startin’ to taper off a little now, though. I just came from the bridge and, I’m telling you, that was a ride! It’s a miracle we haven’t lost anybody overboard. Even the lifelines have carried away!» Spanky was thoroughly soaked, but that alone wasn’t proof he’d been on deck. The Mice were soaked too. «Skipper’s been up there ever since the storm hit and he looks like hell. Lieutenant Tucker would give him a shot to put him out if she was here — and if she had one. The man needs rest, with his wounds and all. Other than that, the damage ain’t as bad as you’d think. Antenna aerial’s gone. Took the top of the resonance chamber with it so the radio’s out.» He saw their blank expressions. «You know that big pointy cylinder on the back bridge rail, right next to the main blower vent? Looks like a great big bullet?» «You mean that’s what makes the radio work?» Gilbert asked, amazed. ". Yeah. Anyway, the launch is wrecked too. Hell, it crashed on the deck right over your heads.» The Mice looked at him and then up at the deck above. They hadn’t heard a thing. «The life rafts are gone — not that I’d ever get on one of those things on «Where are we?» Gilbert asked and Spanky shrugged. «If we run into something big and rocky, we’ll know it was one of the thousands of pissant islands scattered around out there, but that’s as close a guess as I’d care to make.» «You’ve been out in a ’can like this in the North Atlantic, ain’t you?» Isak asked and Spanky nodded, accustomed to the Mice’s abrupt subject changes. «Is this as bad as that?» Spanky just looked at him. «Son,» he said, shouting above the turmoil, «I was on the old «Well,» Isak said, «dudn’t feel that bad to me. Maybe we ought to get out more, Gilbert.» «Well,» said Captain Reddy as the bow buried itself under a roller, «now I know what a Strakka is.» The entire ship shuddered with effort as it came out the other side. Gray-green water sluiced down the deck, submerging the number one gun and erupting upward against the pilothouse. After «Yeah,» said Letts, whose thinking mirrored Mallory’s. «How’s the plane doing? Engines okay?» he asked. The pilot hesitated. «Sure,» he answered in a defensive tone. «The oil we’re getting isn’t quite up to spec, but we change it every time she flies. Other than that, she’s better now than when we got her.» He grinned and gestured at the rain. «Cleaner too.» He pointedly didn’t remind them that «when they got her,» the PBY was full of holes and half sunk on a beach. «Good,» Letts murmured, looking carefully at the aviator. He turned to Brister. Instead of the stone walls that Aryaal enjoyed, a huge defensive berm had been thrown up around the city, the approaches festooned with entanglements and sharpened stakes. Moving the vast amount of dirt had also created a wide, deep trench that had subsequently filled with water and become an impressive moat system. The jungle was pushed back at least five hundred yards on all sides, except where the ground sank into swamp. Some of the wood was stockpiled for later use — much of it was fine hardwood after all — and some was used to shore up the breastworks and put a roof over the heads of the defenders to protect them from plunging arrow fire. The pièce de résistance was the twenty-four heavy guns that pierced the berm at regular intervals through stout embrasures, mostly facing the harbor. These were carefully concealed. The thinking was that, since the harbor was their most heavily defended point, they didn’t want to scare the enemy away from it — now they’d had a taste of cannon. If the Grik ever did attack Baalkpan, the defenders wanted them to do it in the «same old way» because the waterfront was where they would smash the invaders’ teeth. Still more guns were situated in a heavily constructed and reinforced stockade named Fort Atkinson, overlooking the mouth of the bay. Again thanks to Alden, the landward approaches hadn’t been neglected. One hundred crude mortars were interspersed among the defensive positions. Little more than heavy bronze tubes, they could hurl a ten-pound copper bomb as far as the extended tree line. A little farther if you were brave enough to put a dollop more powder beneath it. The poor fragmentation characteristics of copper had been improved by casting the things with deep lines that ran all around and up and down the spheres — just like a pineapple grenade. When all was said and done, there wasn’t so much as a copper cup or brass earring in Nakja-Mur’s entire city, or anywhere they could quickly trade with. But what they had, hopefully, was a slaughterhouse for the Grik. «How have the defenses held up in the rain?» Letts asked. Brister snorted. «A little rain won’t hurt anything. Pack it all down a bit, is all. I may not be a combat engineer by trade, but when I put something together, it stays put together.» It would wreck him. Even if he came back to his senses, it wouldn’t matter. Everyone would Behind him he heard the clattering roar of engines as the PBY thundered across the bay and took to the sky. He looked over his shoulder as a fleeting ray of sunshine flickered on the rising plane. He fought the current upriver and dodged the dead trees and other debris that had washed down from the distant mountains. Crocodiles floated by, disoriented or dead, and he knew the river must’ve been something at the peak of the deluge. It was still out of its banks. The damp world had begun to reawaken, however, evidenced by the flocks of lizard birds that rose amid raucous cries and riotous colors to greet them as they churned upstream. Finally, after another hour of enduring the buckshot of bird shit that peppered them constantly from above, the fueling pier came into view around the bend. The willing hands of the caretakers caught the rope, and Tony gratefully leaped up to the dock and onto the shore. His relief at feeling the motionless earth beneath his feet was palpable, and his mood brightened immediately despite another round of drizzle. «Everything all right?» he asked the first Lemurian caretaker/guardsman that joined him. «No pro-bleemo,» mimicked the ’Cat, proud of his English. «Anything come apart?» Tony asked the other one, who he knew could speak much better. «Don’t think so. Everything fine here. Won’t know for sure until the pump is back on.» «Okay,» Tony said. «I’ll go check it out. In the meantime, why don’t you fellas try to get the fires lit? God knows it’ll be a week before any local boats can make it up that river and bring the rest of the crew. I’ll have to ferry ’em up in the launch.» The idea of spending the better part of the next two days on the water didn’t appeal to him, but at least for now he could bask in the safety of the shore. He stuck his hands in his pockets and, whistling, followed the pipeline cut into the jungle. He didn’t whistle for long. The ground was mucky and the grade was steep. Soon l to him,im. Ben Mallory had coaxed the reluctant aircraft up to three thousand feet, all the while listening intently to the engines. So far, so good. The steady, throbbing drone of the Pratt amp; Whitney R-1830-92 Twin Wasps seemed healthy enough. Contrary to Lieutenant Letts’s suspicions, Mallory really thought the engines were fine. Of course, it was hard to tell over the excessive rattling and violent vibrations the rest of the aircraft made. Everything except the engines on the hard-used plane was falling apart. He tried his best to take it easy on the old gal, but metal fatigue was beginning to take its toll. Sooner or later, good engines or not, the battered flying boat would fold up like a paper kite and fall out of the sky and the only airplane in the entire world would be no more. He shrugged mentally. When it happened, it happened. Until it did, he would fly. He spared a quick glance at his «copilot.» The young sable-furred ’Cat on his right was peering through a pair of precious binoculars through the open side window at the ocean below. His name was Jis-Tikkar, but he seemed to like «Tikker» just fine. He’d been a good companion on the long flights between Baalkpan and Surabaya and he was still fully enraptured by the wonder of flying high above the world at a measly 110 miles an hour — oh, how Ben missed the glorious P-40E! Whatever Ben called him, Tikker wasn’t quite ready to assume all the duties of his position. For one thing, he could barely see over the instrument panel. On a couple of occasions, Mallory had allowed him to take the controls for a little «straight and level,» but it would be a while before he did it again. The second time the little devil had his hands on the oval-shaped wheel, he’d nearly put the big plane through a barrel roll. It was all very exciting and the flying lessons abruptly ceased. For now, the «copilot’s» duties had reverted to observation and keeping Ben awake on the long flights with his irrepressible humor. The rest of the flight crew consisted of Ed Palmer, and two more farsighted Lemurians in the observation blisters. Ed sat in the compartment directly behind the flight deck, still trying to raise They broke out of the dreary overcast at last and the sky ahead was bright and clear. The trailing edge of the storm was still visible far to the east beyond Celebes, and a few petulant squalls marched about at random. Below them, evidence of the storm was still apparent from the lingering whitecaps. Three hours of flying had them in the general vicinity where they’d captured Ben glanced at the fuel gauges. More than enough. The flying boat had a theoretical range of over twenty-eight hundred miles, and the search pattern Letts had suggested would consume less than half of that. Mallory intended to cover more area than the plan called for, but there’d still be ample fuel. He decided to forgo a visit to their remote gas station on Celebes. Every time the plane touched gt; wident, particularly on the still-rough sea. Besides, there were no pumps at the station and they would spend half the day hoisting and pouring the two-gallon jugs. He much preferred idling up alongside He called Palmer forward. «We’re going to zigzag south across the Flores Sea on hundred-mile legs, west-east, west-east. But I want to check out those islands north of Sumbawa. Keep track of our turns so we don’t miss the damn things. I’d rather catch them headed east so we can cross them twice. There must be a hundred of them.» «Most of those islands aren’t much account,» Palmer replied. «No, but if somebody got driven east by the storm there’s a good chance they might’ve wound up on one of them,» Ben reasoned grimly. As it turned out, they didn’t have to go that far. Shortly after they made their first eastward turn, Tikker spotted a lonely wake below them. Ben immediately began a spiraling descent. « Mallory grunted when he banked the plane far enough to see for himself. «Unless the storm knocked one off «We’re not going to set down, are we?» Ed asked nervously from between the two seats. «No way. Look at those swells! Let’s signal them with the navigation lights.» The sun was setting beyond Java’s distant volcanic peaks when «Just like a bunch of battle wagons moored at Pearl,» Garrett quipped, referring to the Homes. «Those guys never know what they’re missing when the wind kicks up.» «Maybe so,» Dowden agreed, «but small and fast beats slow and fat when bombs and torpedoes are falling out of the sky.» Garrett grinned sheepishly back at him. «Yeah, but we don’t have to worry about bombs and torpedoes anymore. The next time we get caught in the middle of a Strakka, tell me again that small and fast beats fat and slow.» He gestured at the huge ships in the bay as they drew closer. «Especially since they don’t even look like they noticed it.» Appearances were deceiving. The full fury of the storm had passed right over the bay. There had evidently brder me to fly, but it’s not his fault we got in late. We altered the flight plan a little to increase our search coverage, true, but I’d respectfully point out that we wouldn’t have seen Matt nodded. «I’m glad you found «Yes, sir. Flying the only airplane. But when we couldn’t raise you on the radio we got worried. The last we knew, everybody was at sea in the path of that god-awful storm. I guess we needed to know we weren’t suddenly all alone.» Matt studied him in the torchlight. «What would you have done if you found one of us, «I. don’t understand, sir.» «Yes, you do. Say it was The young aviator looked stricken. «I. I don’t know. Maybe.» Matt interrupted him. «No ‘maybe,’ Lieutenant. There’s absolutely nothing you could’ve done.» He put his hand on Mallory’s shoulder. «Nothing. Not if you’re a responsible officer. This isn’t the world we knew, where you could whistle up some ship to come get us. We’re on our own. That’s why you and Letts should’ve waited another day before coming to look for us.» He smiled and squeezed the shoulder. «By which time — tomorrow — the radio ought to be fixed. I’m glad you’re here, don’t get me wrong, and I’m glad you saw Captain Reddy glanced at the group gathered around them. Many were engaged in animated discussions, while some were relaxing on cushions that had been placed under the awning for their convenience. «It looks like I’m going to be here for a while,» he said. «Go get some sleep. You’ll need it.» «So,» Matt said at last, when the briefings were complete and the «meeting» had been officially under way for some time, «correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems the situation remains unchanged. The battle line is fit for sea, in spite of some slight damage. The B’mbaadan infantry and Rolak’s volunteers have been thoroughly integrated into the AEF and are ready to embark. I have every minated something lying in it. «Goddamn! It’s a gun! I bet those sneaky bastards filled it full of powder and plugged it up, hoping the fire would cook it off!» He started to run for a fire hose, then stopped dead in his tracks. No time. If he was right, that thing could go off any second. It would take several minutes for the water pressure to build. Without a word, he hopped the rail and began climbing down the rungs. «Where the hell are you going?» Lanier yelled. «I got an arrow in my gut!» «I doubt it hit anything vital, you fat tub of lard!» Harvey snarled back. «Don’t just stand there. Get the hose!» Lanier waddled in the direction of the closest hose reel and Donaghey resumed his descent. The initial flash of the conflagration had diminished considerably to a steady blaze in the forward third of the boat. He could hear crackling as the wood began to burn. The heat pushed almost physically against him the lower he went and he wasn’t sure he was just imagining his skin beginning to blister. «Hurry up!» he shouted, unsure if the cook even heard him as he gasped for breath in the acrid smoke. Below him, one rung down, he could see through his slitted, watery eyes that a rope had been tied to the ship. With one hand, he reached into his shirt and retrieved a long-bladed folding knife that always hung around his neck on a braided cord. Called a sausage knife, it had a long, skinny blade that was useful for a variety of things. He opened it with his teeth and leaned down to cut the rope that had already started to burn. He was certain he was blistering now and he cried out in pain. He smelled the hair on his arm begin to singe, mingling with the stench of the smoke. He sawed at the rope like a madman. Suddenly, unexpectedly, it parted under his blade and he would have dropped it in the water but for the cord. The ship’s bell began ringing frantically in the dark, followed moments later by the general alarm. Harvey scrambled back up the side of the ship a few rungs to escape the worst of the heat and looked down at the boat. Slowly, lazily, it drifted with the current. Amid the flames he clearly saw the ruddy shape of the bronze cannon barrel as the fire grew around it. From above he heard shouts and curses and a gurgling stream of seawater trickled on the boat. Other hands had joined or taken over for Lanier and they were finally getting water on the fire. It would still take a while for the pressure to build, one trailing alongside. Crouching on his knees, and with his hat pulled down low to protect his eyes, he laboriously managed to turn the boat. With a growing sense of urgency that bordered on panic, he rowed as fast as he could. He heard the yells of the men on deck — quite a few now, by the racket they were making — screaming at him to stop, come back, don’t be a fool — but there was no choice. He had no choice. All he knew, as the flesh on his face and hands began to sear and his vision became a red, shimmering fog, was that he had to row. Nothing else in the entire world mattered anymore except for getting that crazy, stupid bomb the hell away from his ship. He made it almost forty yards. Captain Reddy paced the deck beside the number two torpedo mount, back and forth, his hands clenched behind his back. Occasionally he ventured near the smoke-blackened rail and stared at the water below. The angry red horizon that preceded the dawn was a singularly appropriate backdrop to the white-hot rage that burned within him. A quiet circle of destroyermen, human and Lemurian, watched him pace, and Sandra and Bradford were nearby as well, conversing in subdued tones. On deck, trussed up like hogs, were two Aryaalans. Dennis Silva towered over them with a pistol in his hand and Earl Lanier, shirt off and with a wide bandage encircling his midsection, menaced the prisoners with his fishing pole. Harvey Donaghey had hit one of them with a lucky shot from his pistol, causing the ’Cat to lose his oar and slowing their escape. By the time the cannon exploded, the saboteurs were far enough away that they weren’t directly injured, but they were so startled by the blast that they dropped the other oar over the side. Thus they were quickly discovered by the vengeful whaleboat, wallowing helplessly back toward their intended victim with the tide. By then, the one Donaghey had shot was dead. Garrett commanded the whaleboat and it was all he could do to bring the others back alive. Even so, their capture hadn’t been gentle and the Aryaalans watched Matt pace through puffy, swollen eyes, nervously licking their split, bloody lips. Mank-Lar had told him everything. Why not? It had been an exploit of warriors and had been commanded by his king. It was the way of things. His dishonor was not what he tried to do, but that he had failed. Rasik-Alcas might kill them for that, but even the sea folk would understand they were bound to obey their king. wouldn’t they? Mank-Lar vaguely understood that the tail-less sea folk might consider it dishonorable that King Alcas had ordered the attack in the first place, particularly since they were not at war. But that was between them and the king, was it not? He himself was just a tool, and it was pointless to deny his role. Regardless, he couldn’t escape a growing concern as he watched the brooding leader of his king’s enemy. Larry Dowden approached his captain with care. He’d seen him this way — this intense — only once before, when «Captain,» he said quietly, «Radioman Clancy says the radio’s up. Lieutenant Mallory requests permissiaid you wanted to begin installing the screw this morning?» Dowden prompted gently. Matt only glanced around for a moment, as if surprised the task wasn’t already under way. For the first time he noticed that almost the entire crew was present, grim-faced and angry. «Right. I guess the men are a little distracted. Have Spanky and the Bosun light a fire under those repair parties.» Several of the men held his gaze as it passed across them. «They have their own duties to perform today,» he said in a voice that matched his eyes. «I’ll take care of this one.» «What should we do with these two, Skipper?» Silva asked, nudging Mank-Lar hard with his shoe. Matt shrugged. «Don’t even need to try them. They’ve admitted they’re enemy saboteurs under orders of their king. But they’re without uniforms or even the courtesy of a declaration of war. Hang them.» «I want that little son of a bitch dead!» Matt said in a calm but eerily forceful tone. The gathering was almost identical to the one the night before, only this time it was convened directly behind the massed block of the Second Marines, flanked by Rolak’s expatriate Aryaalans and Queen Maraan’s Six Hundred. Another entire regiment of B’mbaadan infantry was added as well. Thirty heavily armed destroyermen — not all human — were in the center, anxious to spearhead the assault with fire. The Orphan Queen stood beside Matt, her eyes gleaming with a feral, joyful light. «It could break the alliance!» Adar pleaded. «Think of the greater threat!» Sandra stood beside the Lemurian Sky Priest and nodded her agreement, but she seemed deeply troubled. «Why? I haven’t asked any of the Homes or Guard regiments from Baalkpan to contribute to the attack.» He wore an ironic expression. «I notice none have offered, either, but if they don’t want to be in the assault, that’s fine.» «What about the Marines? They are drawn from all our people.» Matt looked coldly at Adar. «The Marines are mine. They’re all volunteers and they’ve volunteered for this. I ordered Chack to make sure.» «That still does not give you the right to throw them away on this. sideshow!» Matt’s mounting fury exploded. «I’m Keje met his gaze, but then looked at Adar and blinked furiously with shame and frustration. Matt continued, his voice angry and sarcastic. «Ever since we met, «Naw, I fudged the headings you gave me.» Ben frowned. «Captain said to check these little islands real careful. He figures if the storm drove «What a mess,» Ed murmured, looking first at the distant islands and then the chart. «No way she’d have squirmed through, that’s for sure.» «Yeah, well,» hedged Mallory uncomfortably, «maybe she did. Or maybe she’s fine and Rick’s still chasing lizards like he was Drake and they were Spaniards.» «Who’s Drake?» Ed asked. «Never mind. British guy.» Tikker leaned forward and squinted until his eyes were tiny slits. «Let me see chart, please,» he said, and Ed handed it over. Tikker studied it carefully for a long time and squinted out the windscreen once more. «Very strange,» he said and shook his head. «Usually you charts are so good.» «What? Why?» «I see white islands where chart says should only be water.» Mallory took off his sunglasses and squinted as well. «I don’t see anything.» «You push pedals, I look for ship,» Tikker said smugly and resumed his study of the horizon. Ed left them and went to the engineer’s compartment. One of the few things they’d discovered that still worked in the half-sunken plane when they found it was a thermos. It had been empty at the time, floating in the sandy brown water in the fuselage. Ed rescued it and had used it ever since. The initials «EP» were lightly scratched in the thick aluminum and he was struck by the coincidence since they were the same as his. He often wondered what had become of the original owner. He picked it up and poked his head into the waist gunner’s compartment to make sure the other two spotters weren’t goofing off. Then he carefully poured a cup of joe into a tin mug and eased his way forward against the jostling motion of the plane. «Coffee,» he announced, slowly extending the cup into Mallory’s line of sight. Ben shook his head. «Can’t right now. I need both hands. Thanks, though.» Ed only shrugged and took a gentle sip himself. Tikker looked at him and wrinkled his nose. Not very many Lemurians liked real coffee, much less the local brew. Like real coffee, it had a stimulating effect and that’s what they used it for: medicine. Not because they liked the taste. The big island was growing larger and many of the smaller ones were easy to distinguish now. Tikker suddenly remembered the binoculars around his neck. He thought they were the neatest things in the world — next to the airplane, of course — but much as he loved them, their technology was still so unfamiliar that he often forgot he had them on. Somewhat embarrassed, he raised them now and adjusted the objective knob. Then he stiffened, and it seemed to Ben every sable hair on his body stood on end. «What? What do you see?» For a long moment, Tikker couldn’t speak. «What is it?» Ben demanded. His copilot’s body language had sent a chill of concern down his spine. «It is not islands where they do not belong,» he finally managed. «It is sails. Grik sails.» «Here, give me those,» Ben said, taking the binoculars from Tikker’s neck. He tried to hold the wheel and the glasses steady at the same time, but found it impossible. He glanced at Tikker, who seemed immolently, «walking» around and sloshing its contents. He raised the glasses to his eyes. «God a’mighty,» he whispered. The entire horizon, from the islands of Pulau Belitung to the distant hint of a smudge that was western Borneo, was dotted with hundreds of dingy pyramid shapes. The water below was still a little foamy and the whitecaps had turned the normally warm, dark blue sea a kind of dirty turquoise, but the hint of red from the enemy hulls made them stand out quite clearly. «God a’mighty,» he repeated, a little louder this time and with an edge of panic in his voice. The intercom crackled and an excited voice reached them from one of the observation blisters. «Ship! Ship! I see ship! Right below! Wake up, you in front! You not see ship?» For thn one piece she’s fast, well built — thank God! — and weatherly.» Glancing past Kas at one of the many work gangs diligently at their labors, he added, «And she’s got the best damn crew any ship like her ever had in this messed-up world. A destroyerman couldn’t ask for much more.» He paused. «Engines would be nice, but then she wouldn’t need her sails and that’s part of her charm.» He became serious again. «But that’s not what you asked.» He sighed. «Yeah, the war’s to blame. Those fishermen on the feluccas, they wouldn’t have been here if not for the war. They’d have been catching flashies and feeding their families instead of fighting for their lives in a storm they couldn’t beat. That’s the war’s fault, not ours. And before you think that if we weren’t fighting the war there wouldn’t be one, try to remember «You know, now that I think about it, it «I’m tired, and I may not be making a lot of sense, but whatever else I said, I guess what I mean is, if we lost the feluccas, they didn’t die for nothing. They were helping fight the War, and in maybe this one and only instance, war is good.» Kas grinned again. «Before the storm came, you certainly seemed to be enjoying it.» Rick grinned back at him. «Well, when something needs doing, it always helps to be good at doing it, and we were so, so good» Kas suddenly tilted his head as if listening intently. Rick heard it too. Within minutes, the entire crew of Ordinarily, «Damn flashies,» Rick muttered, realizing the fish must have torn the raft apart. «I wonder what now?» Eventually a man and a Lemurian appeared out of the top of the pilot’s compartment and climbed up onto the wing. Slowly, they made their way to the end and crouched there waiting above the float. «Dangerous,» Kas observed. Rick nodded and called to the helmsman. «Easy there! Don’t so much as scratch that plane. Captain Reddy would never forgive us!» Slowly, «Man, are you ever a sight for sore eyes!» Rick said happily as he grasped it. Ed returned the greeting with a small, sickly smile of his own, but he seemed distracted. He was looking around at the ship. In spite of rols throughout, cursing and maneuvering the plane against the swells as best he could. When the six were safely transferred, the «Here’s my log. Give it to Captain Reddy! It’s a damned exciting read, if I say so myself!» Ed grabbed his hat before the wind took it over the side. His eyes were stinging. From the salt spray, he told himself. «I’ll give it to him,» he managed to reply. «Kas wrote something in there for Keje. They’re cousins, you know.» Ed nodded. Rick spared a glance to the north. The mass of enemy ships was close enough now that individual forms could be seen upon them. Their garish banners fluttered ominously in the stiff west wind. In the distance, still beyond the horizon, a dark smudge of smoke was vaguely visible. Maybe one of the damn things has caught fire, Ed hoped bitterly. They’d cut it as close as they dared. «Tell Captain Reddy. thanks,» continued Rick, handing the book across. «Thanks for the opportunity. It’s been a blast. I always knew I was a pirate at heart!» White teeth shone in his tanned, bearded face. «Now get the hell out of here, Signalman Palmer!» Ed nodded again, and standing as straight as he dared on the swooping wing, he braced to attention and threw Rick Tolson the best salute he knew how. With that, he turned and made his way carefully back to the space between the engines. Mallory throttled back so as not to blow him into the sea, and Palmer dropped down into the pilot’s compartment and disappeared. Calmly, Captain Tolson, commander of «That’s it? The engines roared and the hull pounded and thundered beneath their feet as the plane tried to increase speed, but instead it just seemed to wallow through the choppy swells. «C’mon! «What’s the matter?» Palmer shouted from behind him. Tikker sat, perfectly still, both eyes clenched shut. «Oh, ah, nothing, Ed. It’s just a little rougher than I’m used to!» His voice was vibrating sympathetically with the airplane. «I’m gonna be sick!» Palmer moaned when the plane pitched nose-first into a larger wave that seemed to arrest all forward motion. «Air-sick and seasick all at once!» Surprisned by the staccato bursts of one.30- and two.50-caliber machine guns. The firing in the waist was accompanied by high-pitched squeals of delight. The airframe vibrated more than usual with the recoil of the guns and Ben continued his tight-banking turn to keep his indicated targets in range. Geysers of water marched from ship to ship and then disappeared when the bullets struck wood. Tightly packed Grik warriors were slaughtered in droves. «Let ’em have it!» Ben screamed. «Hell, yes! Outstanding!» he shouted as still more ships added to the catastrophe. «What are those ones doing?» Tikker asked, pointing. Ben looked. Several ships had broken from the pack and were trying to cut «New targets!» yelled Ben. «Engage the ships out front! One of them looks different. bigger! And the hull’s white and gold — not red. I bet it’s special somehow. Give it an extra dose!» The nose gun and the port.50 stitched the sea around the unusual ship. Splinters and debris erupted and bodies fell, while others tried to surge away from the impacts. A few even fell into the sea. «I’m empty!» came a frustrated, keening shriek from aft. So much for controlled bursts. Ben stomped on the right rudder pedal and banked the opposite direction, allowing the starboard gunner a chance. «Make ’em count!» he snarled. The plane rattled as the other gun resumed fire. Down below, «They want her in one piece,» Ben surmised aloud. There was nothing he could do about it. Ed’s gun had fallen silent in the nose. The PBY wasn’t carrying much ammunition — it was never imagined that it would need more than would be necessary to keep a threat at bay while it took off. Much like what had happened right after they discovered it. Now, even as the starboard waist gun continued to stutter, grappling hooks arced through the air, trailing their lines behind them like hundreds of spiders casting their webs. «Damn it!» Ben exclaimed. His voice cracked. «They want her guns!» Ed reappeared at his shoulder. «Rick won’t let them take her,» he said with sad, quiet certainty. Even as they circled, watching with sick fascination, more and more enemy vessels crowded forward like ants upon a stricken comrade. «That’s the style,» muttered Ben. His voice was almost a sob. He gently eased back on the controls and the Catalina began to gain altitude. «Are we leaving now?» Ed asked. «I guess,» Ben replied. «I just couldn’t before. Not while there was anybody down there who could see us.» Ed nodded understanding. «Besides, the captain. everyone will want to know how it ended.» He sighed. «One more thing, too. I want to get a solid count of how many ships they have. We’re still the ‘eyes’ of the fleet.» At three thousand feet, Ben circled again while the others counted the enemy. «Jesus, there’s a lot of them. I’ve lost count twice,» Ed said. «It doesn’t have to be perfect. What do you have, Tikker?» «Three hundred ten, but that’s not all I see, that’s all I can count. There’s more on the horizon.» Tikker squinted again. «There’s that Vol-caanno still.» He shook his head. «It looks closer now.» For the first time, Ben really looked to the north where Tikker had spotted the smoke. Sure enough, a solid black column was slanting away to the east. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. «What the.?» He leveled out and pointed the Catalina north, toward the distant smudge. «What is it?» asked Ed. «I dunno. It «It «Maybe they captured her? She had to have gotten here the same way we did. Hell, they nearly got us, remember?» Ed was still staring intently through the glasses. «Jeez, that’s not just any ship, it’s a The icy mercury running down Ben’s back was suddenly joined in his stomach by molten lead. «Give me those!» he said, snatching the glasses away. «Tikker, take the controls!» The Lemurian stared, wide-eyed, at the wheel in front of him and then grasped it in both of his clawed hands. The tone in Ben’s voice told him that any fooling around wouldn’t be acceptable. He clenched his teeth and held the wheel as tight and steady as he could. Ben adjusted the objective until the image became crystal clear. His subconscious mind screamed in protest and he almost dropped the binoculars. Even at twelve or fifteen miles the silhouette was un maintained contact for quite a while as it flew ever farther north. Then, all of a sudden, there was nothing. Just some weird static. It wasn’t coming from his end, he was sure, and he doubted that Ed had done anything on his end to cause it. Ed could be a screwball, but he was a pretty good hand with a radio and besides, with the skipper on the warpath, he knew better than to goof around. A hazy tendril of concern began to creep into Clancy’s thoughts. Steve Riggs was in Baalkpan working on a system of communications for the defenses there. With him and Palmer both gone, Clancy would «C’mon, Ed,» he muttered. «Talk to me.» Suddenly enough to startle him with the irony, he thought he detected something buried in the static. He put his earphones on and began adjusting knobs. There! The unmistakable «beep beeping» began to emerge. Instead of voice, the signal was coming in CW, or Morse code. He snatched up a pencil and began to transcribe the letters as they came. ZSA ZSA ZSA. (Can you receive?) Over and over again. Clancy quickly tapped back a reply. ZSB-2. (I can receive. Readability fair.) ZOE-5-O-J. (I am going to transmit in strings of five-urgent-verify and repeat.) For an instant Clancy just stared at his key. «What the hell?» he muttered. They’d been transmitting in the clear for so long it didn’t make any sense. Why on earth would Ed want to use five-letter code groups? ZOE-5-O-J, he finally tapped back. It wouldn’t be long now. The bright passion of Matt’s rage had ebbed somewhat as the day progressed, and that was probably for the best, he realized. The endless delays of preparing an army for battle had stretched into the midafternoon, and at times he found himself wondering if he really should have waited for the rest of the force to join them. Keje’s and even Shinya’s estimate of the time it would take to get ready had been overly optimistic. Intellectually, he knew the wait was a small price to pay. Not only would the larger force face less difficulty and take fewer casualties when it stormed the city, but now that it was decided, he believed even more strongly that it was important they all go in together. The various members of the Allied Expeditionary Force had to learn here and now that they couldn’t pick and choose which battles were convenient for them to fight. They were all in this together and if they were going to win this war, they had to share the burden equally. That didn’t mean he felt any less frustrated over the delays. Lord Rolak’s force and the Marines still constituted the point of the spear, but Queen Maraan’s had been pulled back in reserve and replaced by the Third and Fifth Guards. That’s what took the most time. It was believed — probably correctly — that the defenders would fight harder if they knew they were facing their ancestral enemies from across the bay. Matt’s destroyermen had been redeployed as well — much to their disgust. They’d still go in with the «first wave» but more as heavy-weapons support platoons than front-line shock troops. Their job would be to shoot archers and commanders with the Springfields and Krags and break up enemy concentrations with the Thompsons and BARs. Either way, they’d be in the thick of the fighting, Matt knew, and they’d use an awful lot of ammunition.e once more join those who fought and hear their deeds in person!» A great roar went up and, Safir, her eyes still shining, turned to Matt while Chack translated what she said. All Matt could do was shake his head and wonder. He wasn’t about to ask right then. «What about Aryaal?» she asked, the power gone from her voice. «And there are other cities — Kudraang, Kartaj, Bataava — farther up the coast.» «There’s nothing we can do for them,» Matt replied somberly. «There’s not enough time.» He glanced grimly at his watch again and then looked at Rolak. The old warrior was standing, shoulders bowed. He knew that just warning his people wouldn’t be enough. Rasik would not believe it and all of his people would stay and perish. He and his warriors couldn’t leave them to that, and all would die for nothing. «No time at all,» Matt repeated. «Under the circumstances, Queen Protector, I think your troops would be better employed evacuating B’mbaado immediately. Some of the embedded officers might want to remain, however. They might need the experience.» She nodded gratefully, but blinked surprise. Rolak and many others did the same. «The way I figure it, we have three hours to take Aryaal.» As expected, a last desperate appeal came to naught. Officially, at least. There was no response to the demand for surrender, but when the guns in the breastworks made ready to fire, the defenders on the walls just vanished. With no apparent opposition, the Second Marines and Rolak’s force, now called the First Aryaal, moved forward toward the gate. Matt, Keje, and even Adar fell in behind, and five-member squads of destroyermen interspersed themselves among the troops. Silva’s squad remained around its captain. «You believe this. nightmare ship truly exists? That it is coming?» Keje asked. «Perhaps your Mallory made a mistake?» «A mistake like that. wouldn’t be possible.» «You never told me there was another ship,» Adar said, matching their pace. «We didn’t know.» «Then where did it come from, this ship that has changed everything in an instant?» Matt sighed. «The same place we did. Through the Squall.» «But you know her?» Matt nodded. «You remember we once spoke of how «But» «We’ll have to pick it up later,» said Matt, hitching his belt as best he could and nodding forward. «Who was winning?» Adar asked quietly, but Matt didn’t answer. Ahead, as the first troops entered the city, the distinctive sound of battle reached them from within. Chack shouted something over the din, but what it was, at first, Matt had no idea. Other shouts echoed back, and when Matt and his companions finally passed through the arch, the cause of the confusion was plain. Battle raged in the courtyard and streets beyond, but as yet the Marines weren’t involved. Civil war had come once more to Aryaal. Word of the final ultimatum, complete with the warning of the Grik, had spread like wildfire throughout the city. It began among the defenders at the gate who fled from the guns. Officer after officer — Rasik’s handpicked — tried to stem the tide of desertion and many of them were slain. The palace guard tried to stop them too, but when real fighting began, many who were willing to defend the city joined the mutineers when they saw them being killed by the king’s personal troops. It was too much. Most were loyal to their city and their king, no matter who he was. That the loyalists had prevailed in the previous fighting was proof enough of that — even if the purges after the first rebellion had been excessive enough to fire indignation and doubt. But as word of the renewed Grik threat continued to spread, they began to realize that the patient invaders outside the walls weren’t the real enemy after all. They knew if it hadn’t been for the sea folk, the Grik would have had them already. They could never hold them off a second time. Suddenly, to most of the warriors of Aryaal, the survival of their families transcended nationalism and loyalty to a new king they didn’t even like. By the time Lord Rolak entered the city at the head of his column of native warriors, the uprising in the city — at least the northern half — was already practically over. Marines fanned out and created a perimeter inside the gate, but no one so much as threw a rock at them. Beyond the perimeter there was still fighting, but it flared in fits and spurts. It had degenerated mostly into a grudge match now between the various Aryaalan political houses and the palace guard. None of the combatants from any side seemed to want the Marines to get involved. Lord Rolak paced to the great Fountain of the Sun in the center of the plaza and climbed the stepped circle that surrounded it for a better view. From amid the turmoil of fighting and the growing crowd of townsfolk, someone shouted a cheer at the sight of him. Then another. Within minutes, the dwindling sound of battle was overwhelmed by thunderous cheering that surged and echoed off the walls of the city and the royal palace beyond the plaza. Defenders threw down their weapons and many took up the cheer as well. Rolak was overcome. Matt mounted the steps beside him, grinning for the first time that day. The sound was overwhelming and it only seemed to build as more and more Aryaalans rushed from other parts of the city. The crowd surged, but the Marines kept them at bay. A phalanx of armed Aryaalans — not palace guards but still a well-turned-out force — made its way through the crowd until it reached the Marines’ shield wall. Shinya rushed to the point of contact with Chack by his side and after several moments of hand gestures and shouting, a single figure was let through the wall. Chack hurried to Matt and Rolak, with the individual puffing and almost running to keep up. His flowing embroidered robe threatened to trip him. «Lord Koratin,» Rolak of restrained greeting when the pair drew near. Chack automatically translated for Captain Reddy. «Lord Rolak,» Koratin replied, and bowed. «I understand you are chief advisor to that murdering coward who has stolen the throne,» Rolak said. «We were never friends, but I expected better of you.» «It is true, that was my position, my lord. And that is what I tried to do. But my advice wasn’t heeded, or even tolerated. The king is quite mad.» «The attempt to sink the iron ship?» Koratin nodded. «I told him it was madness when I learned his scheme. I even sent three trusted servants to warn you, but they were caught and killed. The palace guard came for me then, but my retainers held them off.» He smiled crookedly. «If not for your timely arrival and the chaos that ensued, I would be dead. How delightfully ironic!» Rolak barked a laugh. «You always were amazingly skilled at survival, Koratin!» Koratin bowed. «As you can see, it’s a useful skill.» His face turned grim. «Is it true? The Grik will return?» «It is true.» «I feared as much. I feared for my younglings — for all the younglings of our people — but the king would not listen. He does not believe the old stories» — he nodded respectfully at Chack" that for our salvation the sea folk have preserved!» «Fear still, Koratin. The danger is greater than you imagine. We must all leave this place and become beggars in the north. The sea folk will succor us, but they need our arms more than our bellies, so all who go must be willing to fight, and provocations won’t occur.» Koratin was stunned. «But what of our walls? Can we not hold here if the sea folk come to our aid?» «No.» Rolak nodded toward Matt, who stood listening. «Cap-i-taan Reddy has told me how it must be and I believe him.» Koratin turned to look at Matt for the first time. His stare was an appraising one. «So that is the great tail-less leader of the sea folk,» he said. «I suspected as much.» He bowed low to the captain. «Where’s Rasik?» Matt demanded, eyes flashing. «In his palace, lord. Yonder.» Koratin pointed at the imposing structure beyond the plaza. «He has almost four hundred guards. Quite fanatical, I’m afraid. It will be difficult and costly to storm.» For a long while, Matt said nothing while those nearby waited for his decision. His expression seemed almost yearning as his eyes bored into the palace walls. «No, it won’t,» he said at last. Rolak cocked his head and looked at Matt with a questioning blink. «We’re not going to storm it. Oh, don’t get me wrong — there’s nothing I’d rather do than bring the guns in and blow it down around him, and that’s what we’d do if we had the time. We’d Chack was confused and surprised. He was first and foremost a destroyerman, after all, and Donaghey was one of his clan. Surely the captain wouldn’t leave his death un-avenged — not after he had been willing to break the alliance that morning to take the city. «But what about the king, Captain?» he prodded. «What are we going to do about hime to ive liberators, bent on saving the people of this world from the depredations of a remorseless foe. They were leaving as destroyers, causing more harm than the Grik had yet managed. With a surprised thankfulness that he couldn’t express, he felt Sandra’s hand find his in the darkness and he squeezed it gently before letting go. She’d been more reserved toward him that day than their «agreement» required and he still wondered why. Then he looked at Mallory. The young aviator’s face glowed grimly in the reflected light. He’d spoken little since he arrived, only confirming with a nod that the dispatch was entirely accurate. There was no mistake. He stood there now, holding «I guess they probably are. We saw the flags for sure.» He grunted. «And then they started shooting at us. The first air burst we saw, we got the hell out.» Matt nodded, deciding not to chastise the flier for the risk he’d taken. «Lucky they didn’t let you get closer before they opened fire. Sounds like they got anxious.» «Yes, sir. They must’ve been pretty surprised to see Matt rubbed his forehead. «Maybe not. We’ve been transmitting in the clear all this time. Maybe they’ve been reading our mail. Any transmission at all would’ve warned them we were here. If they’ve been listening in, they may even know where Baalkpan is,» he added darkly. «And if that’s the case, we won’t know until they’re almost here whether they’re all coming here or they mean to dispatch forces to both places.» He ground his teeth. «Damn.» «I’d think «Maybe. If they know where we are. I wonder if they do?» He paused for a moment and then answered his own question. «Probably. The lizards certainly know we’re here.» He scratched the stubble on his chin. «But they may not know there are two of us. Anyway, that answers my question. We have to assume the Japs know, and the last I heard, they don’t like us very much. If they figure we’re evacuating for Baalkpan they might try to get between us. Make us come to them.» He shook his head. «It’ll be tough to do at eight knots. I wonder why they’re so slow? «Only as fast as the slowest ship?» Bradford opined. «Yeah, but the lizards are faster than that. unless maybe «Positive.» «That may be why we haven’t seen her till now — they’ve been converting her boilers. Coal’s a lot more efficient than wood, but not as good as oil. Shorter range and a fair cut in speed. Still.» «Damage,» Sandra said suddenly. «We’ve all been thinking of «Right,» Matt breathed. «We know how tough it’s been for us to make repairs. Just think of all the problems they’ll have had to face! Every pies. He is a Jaap. You are the sworn enemy of his emperor, and so, in the collective eyes of his people, you are evil. He knows that is not the case. In your eyes, his people are evil. Not just because they support the Grik, but because they attacked you in the world you came from. I’ve seen how quick you are to anger in the face of such a thing. But in spite of whether you or I — or even he — believes his people in this world are on the side of evil, he cannot believe that all of them «What will he do?» Matt asked, alarmed. Not because he believed Shinya would turn on them, but because he had, after all, become such an integral part of The lights of their «allies’ " ships were all around them on the broad expanse of the sea, clustered about them as if shepherding them along. That infuriated Kurokawa more than anything else Sato glanced at the captain and noticed with a rush of alarm that he was moving in his direction. He braced himself for the onslaught. To his surprise, the captain’s voice was quiet, even mild when he spoke. «I hope you are feeling better, Commander Okada.» Sato gulped and bowed his head slightly. «Yes, Captain. Much better, thank you. It must have been something I ate.» «Of course. I know you are not timid.» The captain’s face clouded slightly. «Either in the face of the enemy, or my own.» «It is my duty to advise you, sir.» «It is your duty to obey me!» Kurokawa snapped. «I have always obeyed.» The captain’s face clouded still more but, forcibly, he pushed back the threatening storm. When he spoke again, his voice was controlled once more. «Very well. Since you see it as your duty to advise me, how" would you do so now?» Sato looked at the captain, appalled. It was the first time since Kurokawa assumed command that he’d ever asked anyone what they thought. That might be entirely appropriate under most circumstances, but since the Strange Storm, things had been anything but normal. Still, for Kurokawa to actually ask, let alone care, what Sato thought about their situation was most uncharacteristic. It was probably a trap. Something to get him to commit to a course of insubordination. «On what subject would you seek my advice?» he asked carefully. «Ah. Of course. I assumed you would have a differing opinion than I on everything we have done. I was correct. Your reports seethe with discontent! Let us limit our discussion to strategy so I might get some sleep tonight!» His face became grim. «I am frustrated with these barbaric ‘allies’ of ours, as you know. Dreadful creatures, but useful.» Sato had to suppress a shudder at the thought of the Grik. They’d encountered them first at Singapore when they went there for repairs after their battle with the retreating American force. It was then that they discovered something extraordinary had happened to them. Singapore wasn’t there! In its place was only a strange village of some sort with a harbor filled with sailing ships — which had attacked them immediately and as apparently automatically as a disturbed hive of bees. Throughout the day and night they fought, killing thousands of the hideous creatures, which continued the assault even as Finally, after they repelled what seemed like countless assaults, a single ship approached but did not attack. Negotiations were established and a bizarre alliance was struck. The captain blamed everything that had happened to them on the two destroyers that so arrogantly charged them right before the Strange Storm brought them here. Sato had been secretly stirred by the courage of their crews, but Kurokawa took their escape and the damage to his mighty ship quite personally. Each wound to the ship was matched by one to the captain’s pride. That two such outdated and dilapidated vessels could wreak such destruction on «What can we do to increase our prestige among those monsters?» Kurokawa asked, waving toward the endless fleet beyond the glass windows of the bridge and returning Okada’s thoughts to the unusual conversation. «Show ourselves to be even more vicious and contemptible than they are, I suspect,» Sato said bitterly. The captain considered his words. «You may not be mistaken. We must put ourselves forward in battle, Commander Okada. Their commander must see our power for himself!» He clenched his fists at his side in frustration. «Which we cannot do if we are so slow!» Sato tried to avert his captain’s mounting rage by changing the subject. «At least now we know the source of the radio transmissions we detected. Not two ships, but a single ship and a plane. The American flying-boat was unexpected.» «Yes. It did a great deal of damage before it flew away.» Kurokawa’s features reddened. «If our antiaircraft defenses had been better prepared, we could have shot it down and we would not be having this conversation! The Grik would have certainly seen our worth!» Sato quickly diverted the captain from attacking another part of the crew. «But the enemy ship did much more damage. I understand one of the Grik commanders was killed and his ship destroyed. The survivors of the raid on Surabaya were right about the cannons.» «So it would seem.» Kurokawa hesitated. «The Grik will see Sato waited a moment before he spoke. «Must you take Captain Kaufman with you this time? He might be even more valuable to us now, and each time he is in the presence of those creatures, he. slips. a little more.»» Kurokawa regarded him with a hard gaze. «Pity for the enemy, Commander Okada?» Sato’s expression hardened as well. «Empathy for an officer who saw his crew Sato shuddered, and once more changed the subject. He was getting good at maneuvering the conversation to keep his commander’s temper in check. «Will you tell the Grik your assumptions based on Kurokawa looked at him. «Of course. It is valuable information and they will see it as such.» He smiled. «That we’ve somehow divined it will surely raise us in their estimation.» Sato took a deep breath and glanced around at the other men on the bridge. He knew they were straining to hear, but doubted they could understand much. In spite of that, he spoke barely above a whisper. «Before we reveal that we can send and receive messages over long distances, let alone where we think the American base might be, would it not be best to speak to the Americans first?» Kurokawa’s eyes bulged and he screamed, «You would Sato forced his voice to remain calm and low. «Captain, please! Let me speak!» he said. «First, would it not be best to conceal the technology of radio from. our ‘allies’ as long as we can? Once they know of its existence, we will have irretrievably lost an advantage. They will want its secrets and we will have difficulty withholding them.» Taken aback, Kurokawa lowered his voice. «But what good is it to keep the secret? «That may not always be the case! Besides, we have two aircraft of our own. The spotting planes! They have radios!» Kurokawa still seethed constantly over the loss of their much more capable plane, the Aichi Type Zero E13A1 that had been turned into flaming confetti along with quite a lot of other very useful equipment, weapons, ammunition, and fuel — Kurokawa didn’t consider the men — when the crippled plane smashed into his ship. Okada mourned every scratch «True, but we have hardly any fuel for them,» the captain snapped bitterly. He waved his hand. «Enough for a few short flights. Most of our reserve was destroyed by the Americans’ cowardly torpedo attack. And That Imbecile Who Crashed IThe officer said something in Japanese and the hatch was closed and secured. As always, now that they were alone, the officer wrinkled his nose at the stench from the other bucket, in the corner. Kaufman didn’t even notice the smell anymore. Still squinting, he hastily stood. «Good morning, Captain Kaufman,» said the man in pleasant, if badly accented, English. «Is it morning?» Kaufman asked eagerly. «Yes. Just dawn.» Sato paused, watching the nervous twitch that had taken control of the prisoner’s pale, waxy face. That was new. «I have not come to take you to the Grik,» he hastily assured him. «You are well?» Much of Kaufman’s tension ebbed, but the twitch remained. «I am, thank God. I mean, thank God.» He shuddered, and Sato nodded understanding. «I too am glad,» he muttered. «But I have to ask you a question.» Kaufman nodded and straightened his shoulders. «Of course.» «Yesterday, our. the fleet we are a part of was involved in action with an enemy ship.» Kaufman tensed again and his expression was one of anguish. «It wasn’t the American destroyer,» Sato mercifully assured him. «It was a captured Grik vessel that the enemy had supplied with cannons. They were most effective. Many Grik ships were destroyed.» He paused and watched to see how Kaufman reacted to that. He wasn’t surprised to see a fragile smile and he had to struggle not to match it. «Regrettably, from an intelligence standpoint, the ship was destroyed. Nothing was recovered, but there is testimony from the survivors on nearby ships that there was one human, perhaps two, on board the enemy ship. We can only conclude they were countrymen of yours.» Sato hesitated when he saw the prisoner’s stricken look. «For that, you have my condolences. What I must ask you, however, is whether or not you were aware of the existence of an American flying-boat?» Kaufman’s eyes went wide and, if anything, his twitch became more violent. He began scratching the left side of his face unconsciously. «Well, yes, I am. I mean, I was. You mean you’ve seen it?» Sato nodded and Captain Kaufman closed his eyes and smiled with genuine relief. «My God. So Mallory made it after all!» He stopped and looked at Commander Okada. «We found it on the beach. The plane, that is. It was shot up and half sunk, but Mallory and a couple other fellas got it flying. The Grik nearly got them! Anyway, I sent it on to Ceylon to bring out an escort for «Why did you never mention the plane before?» Kaufman glanced vacantly around. «Nobody asked. I just figured it was lost. The Griks that got after it saw it that day.» He looked imploringly at Sato. «I’m sorry. I would have told you, I swear! I just never thought it was still around!» He sat back down on his bucket and rubbed his twitching face, staring at Sato through his fingers with red-rimmed eyes. «Please,» he whispered. «Don’t beat me anymore.» Sato stared down at the prisoner, sickened. As much with Kaufman as with himself. «You won’t be beaten,» he said. He glanced back at the hatch to make sure it was still dogged. «This plane,» he said, «has a radio.» It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact. «So too does the American destroyer. If I could arrange it so you had access to a radio yourself, could you contact either of them?» Kaufman looked down at the floor. «I don’t have a codebook,» he saidon, but ge a radio, you would be able to speak in the clear.» «What would you want me to say?» Sato shook his head. «I do not know yet. That would depend on a number of things. What I want to know now is can you do it? Do you think they would listen to you?» «I doubt Reddy would,» he said grimly, and Okada recognized the name of the destroyer’s commander. «I doubt he trusts me. I know he doesn’t like me. Mallory, though.» «Mallory is the pilot of the flying-boat?» «Yes. At least he was. I think I could talk to him. Maybe he’d talk to Reddy.» Kaufman looked up at Sato. «Why?» «Perhaps no reason. But let us keep this between ourselves.» He waited until he saw Kaufman nod. «In the meantime, is there anything I can do for you?» For a long moment, the aviator didn’t reply. He just stared at Sato with astonished eyes. Finally, he spoke. «Light. Leave the light on, please.» Sato nodded. «Anything else?» Kaufman blinked and looked vaguely around the compartment. «Something to read,» he pleaded. «I don’t care what it is.» His coffee cup was empty and Juan was nowhere in sight. Garrett had the watch and so he decided to try and find some, and maybe grab something to eat. That reminded him he’d been too busy to check on Earl Lanier and he grimaced at the thought. Sandra had told him the cook would be fine. The shaft hadn’t penetrated beyond his impressive layer of fat. But Matt should have checked. Thinking of injuries. Experimentally, he tensed a muscle in his shoulder to see what he could get away with. To his surprise, it seemed considerably better. Time to pester Sandra again about getting the dressings removed. He was sick of running around trying to do everything with one hand. He knew Sandra was asleep, though. For now, he’d leave her alone. First get something to eat, and then go aft. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to see for himself how the work on the propeller was shaping up. Progress there had him more worried than he cared to admit. They’d finally been forced to lay off work last night when the flashies tore through a second sail. Spanky himself was in the water and they nearly got him. Hopefully they’d make up for lost time in the light of day. He didn’t like the idea of the world falling on top of them when they had a half-installed screw. With two engines, three boilers, and a full bunker of fuel, he would feel a lot more confident in the face of what was coming. Walker ’s crew was making preparations for getting under way and, except for the propeller, there were no difficulties in that regard. For the first time in longer than he could remember he faced no pressing decisions that he alone could make. They’d all been made already, and now there was nothing left to do but watch while others carried them out and hope it wasn’t all for nothing. It left him somewhat at a loss. He couldn’t shake the feeling there was something left undone. Pondering his unease, he descended to the wardroom. There he found Courtney Bradford, alone and sleeping in a chair at the table. His head was tilted back and his mouth was open. Loud snores filled the compartment. There was a coffee cup on the table, but by the smell of the room, coffee hadn’t been in it. Matt sighed and poured some lukewarm coffee for himself from a carafe. Then he opened the portholes on either side of the wardroom to let the warm morning air circulate within. Bradford’s snore caught in his throat and he opened his eyes and blinked. Matt sat across from him and emptied the carafe into the Australian’s cup. Then he gestured at it. «That’s got to stop, Courtney,» he scolded him gently. «It sets a bad example.» «’m not in the Navy,» Bradford grumbled. «And even if I was, it would be the Royal Australian Navy, which, I might remind you, certainly does not persecute the occasional tot.» «Your ‘tots’ are no longer occasional. Alcohol’s not allowed on U.S. Navy ships, but so far I’ve turned a blind eye because of your. unusual status. and because, until lately, you’ve been discreet.» He rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat. «I need you sober, Mr. Bradford. I need you sober and clearheaded all the time. We’re all going to need our wits to survive.» He smiled slightly. «And I’ve come to rely heavily on yours.» Bradford snorted and sipped from his cup. Grimacing, he set it aside. «I’m not much good to anyone, I’m afraid.» He spoke with a still muzzy voice. «Sometimes I think there is really not much point. No matter what we do, we are continually faced with ever greater obstacles.» He covered his face with his hands. «I grow so weary and. I miss my son quite dreadfully, you know.» Matt leaned back. Bradford had never spoken of a son. Like most of them, he hadn’t said much at all about what he’d left behind. Bradford shook his head and sat up straighter. «Oh, he’s alive, for all I know. Flying Hurricanes for the RAAF, in England.» He frowned. «For all I know. The trouble is, I don’t know for sure and I never, ever will.» He glared at Matt. «We Australians still have somewhat closer ties to the mother country than you Yanks, and even though we were considerably farther away, the threat posed by Hitler struck a little closer to home. My son volunteered to fight against him almost a year and a half ago.» He glanced down at his cup and took another reluctant sip. «Adar always talks about the ‘greater threat’—we all do, and we’ve certainly been proved right in this instance. But while my son and most of the rest of the world were confronting the Nazis, you Yanks were busy antagonizing the Japs.» He paused, and turned visibly inward. Then he held up his hand. «I apologize,» he said at last. «That was unfair. I was about to ask why you should care a damn what the Japs did in China when I recognized Malays. And now the Lemurians. God help me, I do love the little buggers.» He stifled a hiccup and coughed. «I suppose I have at times resented you Yanks for not helping my son fight the Nazis. That made it all very personal, don’t you see? Of course you do. But the Japs are just as bad and they are physically much closer to home. What they did in Nanking. They actually bombed Australia, did you know?» Matt nodded patiently. One of «That’s a good point, Mr. Bradford, although war can certainly force you to make some awfully unusual friends. Uncle Joe’s no saint.» «True, but Stalin shared with us the dubious distinction of being one of the Attacked, not the Attacker. In this instance at least. I won’t belabor Poland, or mention Finland for the moment.» He crossed his arms on the table and laid his head down. He wore no hat, and a long wisp of thinning hair trailed down almost into his cup. «I just miss my boy,» he said at last. «I understand,» Matt said around a lump that had formed in his own throat. «I miss my folks. I wonder sometimes how they are and what they’re doing. As far as they know, Bradford’s anger had disappeared and he sat staring at his hands. «What do you want from me?» he asked quietly. «Ease off on your ‘tots,’ " Matt replied. «Other than that, what I want you to do — what I need you to do — is to keep on being the same cheerful, irreverent, awkward — brilliant — pain in the ass you’ve been since the day you came aboard. The men — our allies too — like you, Courtney, and they count on you in ways you can’t imagine. I do too. If they think you’ve lost hope, then they might too.» He stood. «I came down here wondering what I was forgetting, what I’ve neglected to do with everything else that’s been going on. I just realized what it was. Sometimes, even when we’re in a group, people get to feeling like they’re all alone. It’s like you’re sitting on the track and there’s a freight train headed your way and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. All you can do is look around and hope «You idiot!» Earl cursed quietly and slapped Mertz on the side of the head. «It’s a good thing the captain likes my cookin’ or you’d be in a hell of a mess.» «But you «I didn’t tell you to give it to the captain!» Matt heard the exchange and a genuine smile replaced the false one he had worn. It was already warming up and Spanky wiped sweat from his brow. He was vigorously chewing a quid of something that caused a distinct bulge in his cheek. «What’s that in your mouth?» Matt asked. Surprised, Spanky turned and saw the captain. «Good morning, Skipper,» he said and saluted with a grimy hand. He shifted his chaw speculatively. «I’m not rightly sure. Something Chack came up with. He said it was ‘courtesy of King Rasik.’ They use it for some kind of holy stink-weed or something hereabouts. It looks like a yellow tomato leaf, but it sorta tastes like tobacco.» He shrugged. «Anyway, some of his boys were poking around near the palace and found a warehouse full of the stuff. They sent down what must be a ton of it last night.» «Has it made anybody sick?» «Silva’s been chewing it steady, ever since it came aboard, and he’s okay so far.» Matt chuckled. «I’m surprised Silva would chew anything Chack recommended — after last time.» Spanky joined him in a laugh. «So you knew about that?» «Of course.» Matt grinned. Chack had Silva chewing every dead leaf he could find, trying to find some replacement for his precious tobacco. The process left Dennis ill enough to waste a shell on an easy shot against a Grik ship. Silva did not endure ridicule gladly, and Matt was certain that was when the scheme between Risa and Silva — to embarrass Chack — had been hatched. «Maybe with a real, good-faith tobacco substitute, Silva will forgive Chack and quit pretending to carry on with his sister. I need Chack sharp, and I know that drives him nuts.» Spanky nodded vigorously. It drove him nuts too and he was almost sure Silva «Can’t. Other than Chack, the ’Cats don’t think it’s a big deal even if they are.» He shuddered. «And I can’t start giving orders against fraternization between our people. We need each other too much.» Matt fumed. «Besides, then that bastard Silva would have won. He would’ve forced me to call his bluff. No. He can put more significance and meaning in an arched eyebrow» He snorted a laugh, his face red, and shook his head. He gestured at the work with his second sandwich in his hand. «How’s it going?» «Slower than I’d hoped,» Spanky replied, glad to change the subject. «But we’ll have it shipped by this afternoon. The screw is almost in position. Once it’s there, we slide it on the shaft and bolt it down. Easy as pie in dry dock, but a little more involved under the circumstances.» «That’s cutting it pretty close. If the enemy scout ahead, some of them could be here by tonight.» Spanky’s expression grew solemn. «Yes, sir. We’re going as fast as we can.» Matt patted him on the arm. «Of course you are.» He looked ashore, at the teeming mass of Lemurians waiting to board Spanky followed his gaze and then spoke more quietly so those nearby couldn’t hear. «Would we be running if it weren’t for the Japs?» he asked, reading Matt’s mind. His voice was bitter. «The boys are tired of running. They were used to winning for a change.» Matt nodded. «I know. It was a good feeling, wasn’t it?» He sighed. «Yeah, we’d still have to run. There’s too many of them this time, even without There were tired but determined growls of approval, and Matt grinned at the men’s spirit. Inside, he was sick with dread. A little after noon, Matt watched Alone in his palace now, except for his most fanatical followers, Rasikany difference if they had. Ben Mallory was up, scouting the enemy approach. He’d sent a warning a few minutes earlier that advance elements of the enemy fleet, a dozen ships, were less than fifty miles away. The rest seemed to be coming on hard not too far behind. Hundreds of ships could be seen in the distance, more spread out than before since they were no longer confined between Belitung and Borneo. Matt ordered Mallory to fly back in the direction of Aryaal until he was out of sight of the lizards, and then proceed toward Baalkpan. Nakja-Mur’s city would need constant reports, and Matt wanted to resume direct communications with Baalkpan. In case the Japanese were able to find their direction by radio, however, he forbade any further transmissions by the PBY except in an emergency. Once home, they could monitor Every day they had to prepare was precious. He even toyed with the idea of broadcasting continuously from «Marines are coming aboard now, Skipper,» Lieutenant Garrett reported, «and «Anything new from Spanky?» «At least another hour, maybe more. They had to pull Laney out. He was nearly unconscious. The flashies must’ve figured out something’s in the sail and they’re beating the hell out of it.» Matt nodded and winced. He remembered Laney’s bruises from the last time. «Very well. Have Garrett shifted uncomfortably. «We’ll risk losing the screw if it’s not bolted on tight, Skipper.» «I’m aware of that, Mr. Garrett. I’m sure Spanky is too. But we aren’t going to bug him anymore. If it comes down to it and we have to move before he’s ready, then we will. I’d rather risk losing the screw than the ship.» Dennis Silva had made some dumb choices in his life, but this one took the cake. He’d volunteered to go in the water and finish the job after Laney was hauled back aboard, but even then he was less than enthusiastic. Laney looked like they’d dragged him out of a Shanghai bar after he told a dozen Royal Marines the king was queer. He was black and blue with bruises again, and at first he could barely move. It was obvious that swimming with the flashies, even with the sail as protection, wasn’t going to be a walk in the park. There was nothing for it, though. When Laney finally opened his eyes, they settled challengingly on Silva. Not a word was spoken, but the implication was clear. The snipes had done their part. Now iried with the men’s individual ability to grow one, however, and a few were a little sparse. The razors on the ship would last only so long and he wasn’t going to force the men to shave, but he did require they keep themselves trimmed. His own determination was to remain clean-shaven as long as he possibly could and he disliked appearing with stubble. It was his little ritualistic way of showing daily defiance toward the adversity they faced. Sensing it was important somehow, he picked up the razor after all. His officers knew he preferred to take the few extra minutes to make himself presentable. It never hurt for the men to see, no matter how desperate the situation, their skipper was always calm enough to hold a razor to his face. If time was critical enough to prevent him from doing so now, Garrett would have made that clear. He did hurry, though, and in just a few minutes he was climbing the ladder at the rear of the pilothouse. As he did so, he was surprised how rested and vigorous he felt. The long sleep had done him a world of good, but in spite of that he couldn’t ignore the growing dread that welled inside him. He always felt apprehensive when called to the bridge unexpectedly, but the fact that they were in the middle of the Java Sea, in broad daylight, only made his concern more acute. He knew his officers had probably conspired to let him sleep as long as he could and it would have taken something fairly serious to disturb him. In their current situation, things went from «fairly serious» to «catastrophic» pretty damn quick. «Captain on the bridge!» Garrett called. He was waiting for him by the chart table. «As you were. What’s up, Mr. Garrett?» «Surface contact, Captain,» he said. «You can see it better from the fire-control platform.» The gunnery officer led him up the next ladder to the platform above the bridge. Matt followed slowly, still hampered by the use of only one arm. His plea the evening before had come to naught, but Sandra had promised to take another look at his shoulder today. Then she would make her decision. He hadn’t seen her yet today, having been asleep for most of it. Slightly winded, he gained the platform and joined the lieutenant beside the useless range finder. «Port bow,» Garrett suggested, and pointed. «On the horizon. Matt raised his binoculars and peered through them for a moment, adjusting the objective. Matt focused carefully at the point where the sea met the sky and as he stared, he began to discern towering, dirty-white sails outlined against the light blue background. There was no doubt about it. Even as he concentrated on holding the binoculars steady, more and more of the ominous shapes resolved themselves in the distance. It wasn’t just the advance element of the enemy fleet they’d been avoiding either. There were far too many. In spite of the heat, icy tendrils clutched his heart and radiated outward, across his chest and down his back. Far in the distance, beyond the ever more crowded horizon, Matt thought he could see a hazy column of black-gray smoke drifting away to the n «They must’ve seen us,» he observed. «At least «Yes, sir. It’s hard to tell, but it looks like they’ve altered course since I first saw them. Right before I called you. Should I sound general quarters?» Matt shook his head. «Not yet. But please do have Mr. McFarlane, Mr. Dowden, and the Bosun report to the bridge immediately.» «Aye, aye, Captain.» Ten minutes later, Matt gently tapped the chart with his index finger. «We’re here,» he said to the small group that had quickly gathered on the bridge. Then the same finger stabbed down a little to the northwest of their position. «The enemy is there. There’s no longer any question in my mind that they know where Baalkpan is. There’s no other reason for them to come this way.» His lips formed a rueful smirk. «Just like we feared, the Japs must’ve been ‘reading our mail.’ Monitoring our transmissions.» The smirk changed to a snarl. «And they ratted us out to the lizards. Regardless whatever other ‘inducements’ the Grik might have used to get the Japs to help them, they told them about Baalkpan because they wanted to.» He shook his head, genuinely amazed. The Japanese were the enemy and when it came to «But. when Lieutenant Mallory reported the advance force nearing Surabaya, he also sighted a significant number of enemy ships on an identical course less than thirty miles behind them,» Dowden stressed. «Yeah, but as I’ve been concerned all along, if they really have more than three hundred ships, they have more than enough to send a ‘significant number’ in two directions at once. It seems that’s what they’ve done.» «We gotta warn Baalkpan!» Spanky said, around a mouthful of the yellow leaves. «That’s happening right now. I just hope they can hear us. We’re still pretty far away.» He frowned. «I told Clancy to ask for confirmation when he gets through. Radio silence is pointless at this stage. They clearly know where we’re going.» Dowden’s face suddenly went white with dreadful realization. «What are we going to do about Matt nodded slowly. «Precisely. What «Damn it, Skipper!» Gray growled with frustration. «What can we do? There’s seven or eight thousand people on that ship!» Matt glared a usothers. «Gentlemen, we’ve «Well, you said «Thereabouts.» «If we light off the number two boiler, «You mean, rig a «But will it be enough?» Garrett asked skeptically. «I know Anyway, since Pete had operational command of Baalkpan’s defenses, Jim cheerfully reported to him when he arrived. There wasn’t even the tiniest hint that Mr. Ellis considered it inappropriate and Pete was grateful for that. The irony of a naval lieutenant in command of a destroyer reporting to Mrs. Alden’s son was even more bizarre, to him at least, than the way poor Scott had gotten it. Ever since then, though, Jim had been down at the dock working night and day, with hundreds of Lemurian «yard-apes» crawling all over his ship. By Nakja-Mur’s command, every possible assistance, regardless of expense, was placed at the disposal of the young lieutenant and his wounded destroyer. Nakja-Mur had certainly stepped up to the plate; Alden had no complaints about that. He no longer questioned what things cost. The High Chief had finally completely grasped the concept of total war, and everything else had dimmed to insignificance. Nothing was as important to him as saving his city and its people and he’d do whatever it took. With Letts’s help, the High Chief of Baalkpan had blossomed into a kind of bureaucratic prodigy. In a government like that of the United States, Nakja-Mur would have been performing all the duties usually associated with the secretaries of state, commerce, agriculture, public works, and war. He didn’t really know doodly-squat about any of those things, but he was smart enough to know it, and he delegated all the hands-on work to people who did. He just made sure the wheels were greased and he arbitrated disputes. He was also a genius at sorting out priorities and making sure the most important projects got the assets they needed the quickest. He relied heavily on Alden and Letts to advise him as to which projects those were, but since Baalkpan’s defense and the support of the AEF were almost everybody’s top priority, there was rarely any disagreement between them. The exception to this unity of purpose was still represented by what Letts called the Run Away Party, which was enjoying a resurgence that began with Pete gazed out across the city below and wondered yet again at the ingenuity of the people here. Insteadlike those that proved so effective in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Like its predecessors, this one was festooned with heavy guns that covered the harbor entrance and there were defenses around it similar to those that encircled the city. There were also sufficient provisions within that it could hold for quite a while if it was ever cut off from Baalkpan. Brister had named it Fort Atkinson, after A tapestry separating the balcony from the Great Hall parted, and Nakja-Mur strode through to join Sergeant Alden with his own goblet of nectar in his hand. His face was expressionless, as usual, beyond a small, clipped frown that didn’t reveal his teeth. His shoulders sagged and his tail drooped and it was clear he was exhausted. «Good afternoon, Gener-aal Aalden,» he said by way of greeting. Pete grimaced. He hated it when Nakja-Mur called him that, especially in front of others. «Good afternoon, Nakja-Mur, U-Amaki Ay Baalkpan.» «Preparations continue to proceed well?» Nakja-Mur asked. Pete shrugged. «Well enough. We started building up the overhead protection for the batteries today, now that we know about «These ten-inch guns are very bad?» Pete nodded. «They’re more than twice as big as «But the guns you helped build for my people are as well.» «True,» Alden agreed, «but as we’ve discussed many times, those guns, as powerful as they are, are still no match for Nakja-Mur nodded solemnly. «You’re saying we have no real defense against this «No. As you can surely see for yourself, Nakja-Mur nodded. «I will certainly do that,» he said. «I will pray that it never comes. It may not, you know,» he added hopefully. Just then, Ed Palmer was escorted onto the balcony by a pair of Nakja-Mur’s guardsmen, who paused and waited to be summoned close. Ed accompanied them and Pete’s heart sank when he saw the signalman’s ashen face. «My guess is,» Pete said before Ed spoke a word, «we should have been praying already.» A skept Matt didn’t think the Grik could catch them. On the other hand, A couple of Grik ships, either because of better seamanship or cleaner hulls, were drawing ahead of the pack. Matt had a good eye for geometry and there was no way «Sound general quarters,» he ordered at last. The raucous «gong, gong, gong» reverberated throughout the ship and hats were exchanged for helmets. Matt knew the consensus was that no one wanted to go in the water with a life jacket on, but he ordered them worn regardless. Sandra suggested that the possibility a crewman might be eaten was more than offset by the protection against crossbow bolts and flying debris that the jackets afforded them. The Lemurian destroyermen hated the jackets even more than the humans did. In their case it was because, for the most part, they were way too big. They wore them nonetheless. Bernard Sandison was the last to report, as usual. He had the farthest to go from where he was supervising the preparation of the torpedoes. He plugged in his headset, turned to the talker, and gave a thumbs-up sign. «All stations manned and ready, Captain,» Reynolds said aloud. «Very well. Who’s in the crow’s nest?» «Bosun’s Mate Chack, sir.» Matt nodded. Early on, Lieutenant Garrett had worked very closely with the burly young Lemurian. He’d picked up ranges well. Matt didn’t have the perspective of the lookout, but those two lead ships were obviously in range. He wanted to knock them out before they got dead ahead, when only the number one gun would bear. «Inform Mr. Garrett he may commence firing when ready,» he said. On the fire-control platform, Garrett listened to Chack’s report as it came through his earpiece. He echoed it to Sandy Newman, who was operating the mechanical fire-control computer. «Load one, two, and four. Range to target four O double O. Angle is zero six zero, speed seven knots.» «On target!» chorused the director and the pointer. Garrett knew they didn’t have the ammunition to waste on an «up ladder.» Since there was still some visibility, he would fire a single salvo and hope they could correct from there. Chack had good eyes; he should spot the fall of shot. «One round each, salvo fire. Commence firing!» The salvo buzzer alerted the bridge crew and a moment later the ship shook perceptibly with the booming roar of three four-inch guns. In the deepening twilight the tracers quickly converged on the target. A bright, rippling flash erupted amidships of the first enemy ship and a chorus of exultant shouts rose up. Matt was excited as well. Chack was right on the money. «Silence!» bellowed Chief Gray on the fo’c’sle, right behind number one. «Grab that damn shell, Davis, before it goes over the side!» His yell was loud enough that half the ship must have heard. Still grinning, Matt turned to the talker. «By all means let’s have some quiet so the men can do it again.» The next ship in line was destroyed almost as quickly, but it took two salvos instead of one. It must have maneuvered to avoid the sinking, burning hulk in front of it. More ships were cracking on, though. It was as though the destruction of the first two only sp D tons of seawater poured inside her through gaping holes and opened seams. As tough as the Homes of the People were, they were never designed to absorb the type of punishment For a long, torturous moment, Matt said nothing. He just continued to stare at Gray with a look of inexorable determination. The salvo buzzer rang again and the number one gun fired into the night. Then. he blinked. It was as though the nightmare that had surged from his subconscious mind was suddenly subverted by the one he was living now. «Secure from flank,» he said in a subdued voice. «Captain!» shouted Sandison from the starboard bridgewing, «Small craft are coming alongside!» Matt raced to join him and peered over the rail. A shoal of small double-ended sailing craft, about thirty feet long, were struggling to catch up with the destroyer. Matt immediately recognized them as boats the People used to hunt the gri-kakka. Much like human whaleboats of the past, they carried the hunters close enough to strike their prey with a lance. Most Homes carried dozens of the extremely fast things and launched them from the large internal bays Matt had first seen on «Get boarding nets over the side!» Matt shouted. «Slow to two-thirds!» Immediately, as soon as the nets were rigged, boat after boat thumped alongside and terrified Lemurians swarmed up to the deck. Most were younglings. «What the hell are they doing?» Gray demanded. «They’re trying to get as many off as they can!» Matt shouted. «Get down there and start packing them in!» Gray was stunned. «But how many can we hold?» «As many as they send us! Now get your ass down there and get them below! We have to keep the ship trimmed and you’re the only one that can do it. Use all the help you need!» The Bosun dashed toward the ladder. Matt realized Queen Maraan had joined him. With her black fur and clothing she was almost invisible in the dark. Only her silver eyes and the tears matting the fur around them were visible, reflecting the light of the fire that raged aboard «You risk much,» she said in a soft, sad voice. «I’m risking everything,» he told her truthfully. Even he realized it now. One lucky hit and The gri-kakka boats scurried back and forth, ferrying people as fast as they could while Another nearby salvo tossed «Keep packing them in,» Matt ordered the Bosun when he came to report. «It’s turning into hell down there, Captain,» Gray replied. Matt nodded grimly. «Just put them wherever you can. It sure beats the alternative.» Gray nodded. «If they fill up the main deck, she’ll capsize,» he warned. «We’re already so low in the water with all the extra weight that we’re taking water through holes above the waterline. Damage control can’t even get to them with all the bodies down there.» «I know. Are the pumps keeping up?» «So far» Gray was interrupted by the bark of the number three gun. The Grik were closing on them now and all guns were in local control, firing at nearby targets of opportunity. The sea to port was scattered with burning hulks. Both the ships were heavier now. Behind them Matt saw that «Four knots!» Kutas yelled shrilly over the roar of the tortured blower and the rattling cacophony of the exhausted ship. Several falling shells struck Then, as those on the bridge gained their feet, they were hurled backward against the chart house and «Oh, very well, Commander,» Kurokawa growled. «You may cease firing. We will steer toward the wreckage and see for ourselves. If we did not sink the American ship, we almost certainly damaged it. She will fly as fast as she can to her lair and we will catch her soon.» He paced the length of the bridge as though lost in thought while Sato gave the order to stop the bombardment of the burning, sinking hulk. A moment later he returned to Sato’s side. Strangely, there was a smile on his face. «A most impedo mount behind the amidships deckhouse on the starboard side. Hale’s station was directly atop the mount. Beneath him, nestled in their tubes, the final three operating MK-15, twenty-one-inch torpedoes in the entire world patiently waited, their safety pins removed. There had probably never been any more lovingly treated and carefully maintained torpedoes in the history of the Asiatic Fleet and they’d been painstakingly tested for every conceivable defect. Each of the three weapons was a marvel of technology and precise engineering and was, pound for pound, the most complicated piece of machinery aboard the entire ship. Not to mention the fact they’d cost the War Department of the United States more than ten thousand dollars apiece. And nobody really trusted them to work. There were many theories as to why the American torpedoes had performed so dismally. Much of the problem was undoubtedly due to the fact that prior to the war, destroyer and submarine crews were allowed very little practice in their use. They were fantastically expensive and the budget for the Asiatic Fleet in particular was extremely tight. Bernie Sandison, however, as well as his division, was convinced the problem was far more insidious. At Balikpapan, they’d Chack finally reported that he was certain the target was «Mr. Reynolds, remind Mr. Garrett not to open fire unless I give the command, but be ready if I do.» He looked at Bernie Sandison and, even in the darkness, Bernie thought he detected a ferocious, predatory gleam in the captain’s eye. «Fire your torpedoes, Mr. Sandison.» «Aye, aye, Captain.» Bernie addressed Randal Hale in a brisk, nervous voice. «Mount one: Fire one! Fire three! Fire five!» With each new command, there was a «Helm, left full rudder. Come about to course one zero zero.» «Aye, aye, sir. Left full rudder,» confirmed the helmsman. «Making my course one zero zero!» As the destroyer heeled to starboard, Matt went out on the port bridgewing and waited for the stern to come around. This would be the most critical moment. If anyone on «All ahead flank!» Matt shouted into the pilothouse. The launch must have been seen after all. The searchlights stabbed at the darkness in their general direction, but for the moment they concentrated on an area to port. Then another light came on and almost instantly, «Commence firing!» Matt yelled. «Target their searchlights!» Gnd number four fired together and the tracers lanced into the night. Another salvo left the guns before the first was halfway there. «Come left ten degrees!» Matt said and raised his glasses again, trying to see through the blinding light. He knew the course change would make «Another minute, Captain.» The torpedo officer had taken station on the port torpedo director — not that there was anything left to direct. He just had to see. Other lights lit the battle cruiser, gun flashes from her secondary armament. The first splashes fell about two hundred yards to starboard and a little aft. The second group of enemy shells raised geysers just off the port beam and shell fragments peppered «Torpedoes?!» Sandison’s eyes flicked to the stopwatch in his hand. «Now!» The lights went out. Matt snapped the binoculars to his eyes in time to see a bright, slashing pulse of fire rising from «Secure from flank! Come right ten degrees. Let’s get some distance while she decides whether or not to sink. If she doesn’t, I’d just as soon we were out of range when they get their priorities straightened out. Cease firing main battery.» A few more desultory shells landed in Matt slowly let out a breath. «Damage report?» «That last hit tore hell out of the guinea pullman,» Reynolds said, referring to the crew’s berthing space situated above the propellers. «Lots of refugee casualties in there.» He paused. «There’s some flooding in aft general storage and the steering engine room. There’s people in there too.» Matt was staring aft at the amidships deckhouse. He couldn’t see much in the darkness except for the occasional white T-shirt and hat dashing through the smoke that still poured from under it. «What about the hit amidships?ït of ’Cats hunkered under the deckhouse. He has no idea how many bought it. The galley’s a wreck, but Lanier made it okay.» Reynolds blinked. «He was in the head. Mertz and the cat-monkey mess attendant are both wounded.» The talker paused again, listening. «Oh, goddamn!» he exclaimed in an indignant voice. «Beggin’ your pardon, Captain.» «What else?» «Those Jap bastards got the Coke machine!» Matt almost laughed. The last of their Cokes had been gone for weeks — all except one that was stashed in his own quarters. He doubted he’d ever drink it. The machine itself had remained a source of pride to the crew, in a strange, black-humor sort of way. They may have been lost on a hostile, alien — other — earth, but by God, the Coke e mac enough ahead of the Grik that she should be safe from pursuit, but Matt wanted Ben to make sure. Tsalka glared across the water as Kurokawa’s launch returned to his ship. «You know, General, I grow increasingly weary of that creature.» General Esshk hissed agreement. «I begin to understand why those who joined us in the Great Hunt in the past have ultimately fallen prey themselves. If they were as grasping and unpleasant as that one» — he gestured at the retreating boat" it is no wonder the Hij of old turned them out and hunted them to extinction.» Tsalka agreed, but he knew there was more to it than that. Despite the Ancient Way, that whoever hunts together may partake of the meal, he knew it was difficult for any predator to share its prey. The tail-less, almost toothless Hij he had just endured was not one he would care to dine beside. «Their iron ship is damaged again and it will move even slower now,» Tsalka mused. «But it is still wondrously powerful. I heard the tales of how it destroyed our Uul before it joined the hunt. Last night, I saw how it did so. Magnificent!» «Most impressive,» Esshk hedged. «But to strike from such a distance! Where is the challenge. the sport in that? It is the hunt that counts. The harvest is secondary.» Tsalka looked at him with his slitted yellow eyes. «Indeed. But it is not very sporting when the prey consumes the hunter. This prey has teeth! I do not desire another catastrophe such as befell our hunters at the walled city. Such a thing has never happened before and it will not happen again. The Celestial Mother would not be pleased and neither would I.» He gazed at the lumbering iron monstrosity. Black smoke belched from its middle as it burned the coal that somehow pushed it along. There was other smoke still, from the wound it suffered last night, and Tsalka perceived a slight list. Despite its amazing power, the Tree Prey had friends who could damage it. The thought gave him pause. They had damaged a thing that multiple vigorous assaults by his own race did not scratch. Insufferable as the Hij leader of the iron ship folk might be, Tsalka was beginning to suspect that he was right about one thing: the Grik needed them, and might need them very much if the Grand Swarm was to meet with success. The thought rankled, and yet it might be true. The Tree Prey had grown into Worthy Prey in their own right, but with friends such as they had. the slow iron ship of the new hunters might have to make the difference. Initially, as was customary, the new hunters had been treated with proper disdain. That was appropriate, since they were the newest hunters in the pack. But things had changed. The prey fought well. They had flying things to help them, as well as an iron ship of their own. Much as he disliked the idea, Tsalka admitted it was probably wise to heed the council of a creature — however distasteful — who knew how to counter such things. For the first time, that morning he had actually paid attention to what the iron ship leader had to write. «You and I are Hij, General Esshk,» he said. «We can look back upon the Uul-life with fondness and nostalgia. That was our time for the hunt to be sport. That time is past. I joined the Swarm because I was bored and there has not been a Grand Swarm in my lifetime. I wanted to see it for myself. Although I appreciate your courtesy, command is yours, of course. But I flatter myself that my advice may have some value.» General Esshk bowed lstayed that long, and most of the watch was nervous to the point of distraction — particularly when Kurokawa stepped near their station. But the entire fleet had changed its course, and despite the fact that the damage to «Captain!» a talker suddenly blurted nervously. «The lookout reports sighting the American flying-boat, almost directly overhead!» Kurokawa and Okada both raced out onto the bridgewing with their binoculars. Sure enough, floating lazily above, droning motors lost in the cacophony of «Damn them!» shouted Kurokawa. He looked around. «Why isn’t anyone shooting at them?» «They are out of range. If you want to waste ammunition to no effect — for all to see — we certainly can.» Kurokawa’s gaze slashed at Okada. Then he raised his binoculars toward the Grik flagship. Some of the «officers» were clearly staring at the plane — the damn things had phenomenal eyes — and some were looking right back at him. «Commander Okada,» he said in a menacing tone, «we must destroy that plane.» Okada was incredulous. «But. how?» «We will use one of our planes, of course.» «But, Captain! Those planes are some of our most precious assets and we only have enough fuel for a couple of flights. Also, as you yourself pointed out, they are not fighters, they are spotting planes. They are lightly armed, and I’m not even sure they are fast enough to Kurokawa’s round face regarded Okada without expression. «You, Commander, will choose a flight crew for the fastest of the two planes, if there is any difference. You will have it only half filled with fuel since it needn’t go far. That should improve its speed and will save fuel as well. You will then tell the crew that they will destroy the American plane or they need not return. Finally, if they are not in the air in ten minutes, they will be shot.» He snorted. «Remember, our ‘allies’ are watching.» All Okada could do as he raced aft was mutter, «Madness!» under his breath. «There they are!» Tikker shouted excitedly long before Ben Mallory could see anything but water and sky. By the time the leading edge of the enemy armada was visible to the pilot, Tikker already had an answer to one of their questions. The Grik had turned around. «They go home!» he shouted with glee. «I doubt it.» Mallory sighed. «I bet they’re headed for Aryaal. They’ll set up a base there and hit us when they’re ready. Question is, why aren’t they ready now? Do you see any sign of «I’m afraid so,» said Tikker with disappointment. «There is a large, dark shape farther ahead with smoke rising above it. It seems smoky all over, so maybe it is badly damaged. But we are still too far to tell.» «There’s nothing for it then. We have to take a closer look.» «Sure,» said Ed Palmer, standing in his usual place at the rear of the flight deck, «but I’m relieved for «You and me both,» sighed Ben. «She might have made it, but if they’d still been coming on even at eight knots. Well, Ed was back in one of the observation blisters, staring straight down with his binoculars. At over three miles, the visibility wasn’t what he would have liked, but it was good enough. Fortunately, it looked like they were going to have time to do that. Perhaps Ed relinquished his vantage point to the Lemurian waist gunner and made his way forward. After he relayed his observations and deductions to Ben, he returned to his post at the radio and began signaling Ed poked his head up between the two seats on the flight deck. «Sure thing. I’ll have some too.» He looked at the sable-furred Lemurian. «How ’bout you?» Tikker just grimaced and shook his head. «Just give it a chance,» urged Ben. «It’ll grow on you.» wigt; «Like a great, hideous tumor, I suspect,» retorted the ’Cat. They all laughed. Suddenly there was a sound like heavy gravel being thrown hard against the plane’s aft fuselage, followed by a high-pitched shriek. «What the «Plane! Plane! Behind us shooting!» came the panicked cry from one of the Lemurians in the waist. «Shoot back at him!» Mallory bellowed as he instinctively shoved the oval wheel forward to the stop. With the nose pointed at the sea — too close — he slammed the throttles forward and began banking right. He had no idea what was on their tail except it must have come from Palmer dragged himself aft and upward. It seemed like forever before he reached the waist gunner’s compartment, but when he did, he was greeted by a dreadful sight. Daylight streamed through a dozen bullet holes in the ceiling of the compartment and he knew there were probably many more aft. The Plexiglas in the starboard observation blister was shattered and a hurricane of wind swirled around him. There were brains spattered all over the forward bulkhead and the deck, and blood seemed to have been smeared over every surface with a mop. The dead Lemurian was sprawled in the middle of the aisle, his partner curled in a fetal position on the port side of the bulkhead, rocking back and forth and emitting a keening moan. Ed barely controlled his reflex to retch and snatched the headset off the live Lemurian. «Snap out of it!» he yelled, somewhat shakily. He leaned into the intact blister. First he looked down — he couldn’t help it — at the rapidly approaching water. He was no pilot, but More «gravel» slammed into the plane. Many of the impacts were quieter that the first and he felt them more than heard them. They must have been in the wings. A final burst sounded directly overhead and it ended with an explosion of sound up forward. «Goddamn it! What the hell is he?» Mallory screamed. Ed lunged to the shattered blister, his hat instantly disappearing in the slipstream. Through squinted and watering eyes, he caught a glimpse of a winged shape swerving from starboard to port. He leaped back across the dead Lemurian and finally caught a good view of their tormentor. «It’s a He berated himself. That’s exactly what he should have done from the start, if he’d known what was after them. The Japanese pilot must have used their leisurely exploration of the enemy fleet to work himself into what he thought was a one-chance attack. If Ben had thrown the throttles to the stops and slowly «Ed,» he called over the intercom. «Thanks for remembering me,» came the sarcastic reply. «I see you have at least stopped our uncontrolled plummet to the sea and the smoke’s not quite as bad.» «Sorry about that,» Ben replied in his best upper-crust British accent. «One of our engines developed a bit of a. stitch and we thought it best to let it rest a while. We only have one other one, you know.» His voice turned serious. «What’s our troublesome little friend been up to?» «He’s been coming in on our flanks, trying to get an angle on our engines, I guess. His last few tries have been to port. I guess he knows the other one’s out.» «How are things back there?» «One of the gunners is dead. I’ve been alone back here most of the time. I finally got the other one to snap out of it and he’s doing okay. I think he got a piece of the bastard on his last attack. He’s on the port side. Starboard’s a little unpleasant.» «Understood.» «Other than that, things are about the same. We’re a long way from home and almost out of ammo.» «Can the gunner back there handle things for now?» «Well. I guess.» «Good. Then I want you in the nose turret.» «The «That’s about to change. Give all your bullets to the port gunner and tell him to hammer away the next time that Jap gets in range. He’s got all the bullets in the world, got it?» «Sure, but.» «That’s when I’m going to lower the wing floats.» «What! Damn, Ben! That’ll just slow us down even further. We’ll be sitting ducks!» «No, listen! If he thinks we’re about to set down, he’ll pull out all the stops. He has to «Are we going to land on the water?» «Not unless we have to,» Ben confessed. «Why not? It sounds like the perfect plan. We’d have all the advantages. If we don’t shoot him down, we just wait till he flies away.» Ben cleared hlf the time I don’t know how I do it with two. You keep forgetting — I’m not a seaplane pilot. I’m still making most of this up as I go.» Ed groaned. «Okay, Ben. I’m with you. And here comes our little friend, right on cue.» «Get in the nose, Ed. As soon as he starts shooting, I’m lowering the floats. Anything could happen after that.» Ed rushed forward. When he arrived, he was reminded just how much he hated the nose turret. It was built for guys a lot smaller than he was and it seemed like a stupid design. He had actually given it a lot of thought and believed he could have come up with something better. The first change would have been the emplacement of something more powerful than a measly.30-cal. It might have been a little cramped with a.50, but they could get a smaller guy. If they got a smaller guy to work the plane’s radios and help with navigation, that would be fine too. He put on the headset and racked the bolt, chambering a round. «Aaaa-eeesh!» cried the gunner in the waist. «I chop him up good that time! Shoot up tail! Maybe kill gunner. Get even for my friend!» «Where’d he go?» questioned Ben. «Straight out, away. Direction. nine. nine clocks?» «You get that, Ed? I think it’s working. Keep your eyes peeled.» «I got it.» Palmer strained his eyes through the cloudy Plexiglas. The plane and all its components had been through so much, looking for a plane through the turret was like looking for a minnow in four feet of murky water. In any event, it took much longer than any of them expected for the Dave to get around in front of them. Maybe it was being careful, or maybe it truly was damaged and had lost some speed. Whatever the reason, when Ed first saw the enemy plane, it was already closer than they’d hoped to spot it, but it was doing exactly what they’d expected: going for the PBY’s remaining engine from the front. «There he is,» Ed announced, more calmly than he felt. «I can’t judge distance through this crummy glass, though. You’re going to have to tell me when he’s in range.» «Uh, he’s already shooting at us, so whenever you’re ready.» «Have you seen this can of ammo down here?» he demanded hotly. «This «He’s getting closer!» «Just a few more seconds!» Ed could see the plane clearly now. If it was damaged aft, he couldn’t tell, but it was coming straight in, yellow flashing from its single forward firing machine gun. More bullets were hitting the PBY and Ben’s voice grew more insistent. Even Tikker’s voice rose in an indignant shriek. Ed paid no attention — even when one bullet grazed the curved Plexiglas mere inches in front of his face. He was concentrating on the sights. They were crude and pretty much limited to known ranges, but he aimed carefully at the steady target of the biplane’s round engine, raised the sights a little, and started to fire. He wasn’t using short bursts like he ought to have; he was trying to hose out a solid wall of lead that the seemingly flimsy biplane couldn’t survive. Evidently, by the sounds of impact, that’s what the enemy hoped as well. Finally, exultantly, he saw a flash and a gout of smoke erupt from the Dave’s engine, and the plane seemed to wobble as if the pilot was struggling for control. Ed let out a whoop, but an instan secondaries or fragments. Beyond the fortifications, Matt saw little change to the city he’d come to think of almost as home, but the fortifications themselves made a profound difference. In the distance, tied to the old fitting-out pier, was By contrast, if the city and its surroundings looked different now than they had when Because of her arrival, even with all the preparations under way, thousands of people were on hand to witness her slow approach to the dock. The contents of the radio message detailing the events of the night had rapidly spread. There was no reason to conceal the fact that Finally, a sharp, congratulatory Most of the survivors weren’t met by anyone. They just wandered around in small, confused groups as though in a daze. Most were females or younglings who’d lost everything they ever knew. They’d suffered the trauma of leaving their homes and had nearly been killed at sea. Many of their loved ones were dead. Now they were cast on the shores of an unknown, alien land. Fortunately, someone in a position of authority had their wits about them, and squads of way. At the urging of officers, the crowd began to disperse and return to their now even more insistent chores. When a lane was cleared, the wounded were carried ashore. There were quite a few. Matt watched from the port bridgewing while Sandra supervised below. Beside her still was Queen Maraan, giving support and encouragement to the injured — no matter where they were from. Matt’s admiration for the Orphan Queen had grown even greater than before. He knew she was a strong and respected leader to the people of B’mbaado, but she’d also shown herself to be wise and compassionate to her former Aryaalan enemies and strangers as well. He was certain she’d be a major unifying figure and a force to be reckoned with in the events that were to come. Beside him stood Chack, watching as well. The young Lemurian was tired but surprisingly alert after spending virtually the entire night in the crow’s nest. Matt nodded toward the queen. «Go give them a hand if you want,» he said with a small smile. «Or you can hit the rack. It’s your choice.» «If it makes no difference to you, Cap-i-taan, I will help the ladies.» He grinned. «That’s fine, but be back aboard by the first watch. We’ve got a hell of a mess and the Chief’s going to need your help. Try to get some sleep between now and then. It’s going to be a busy night.» «Aye, aye, Cap-i-taan.» Chack saluted him and bailed down the ladder. Matt shook his head. Very carefully, he tried to stretch. Not long before they opened Baalkpan Bay, he’d finally convinced Sandra to remove the rigid strapping that held his arm immobilized. He felt no pain at all from his ribs and the wound through his shoulder had healed remarkably well. That seemed to be the case with every patient treated with the infection-fighting goo. Sandra knew where it came from now — fermented polta fruit that was further processed in some seemingly mystical way — but she still didn’t know what made it work and she yearned for a microscope to study it with. Matt didn’t care what the stuff was so long as it worked and he was eager to get his considerably atrophied arm back in service. He stretched a little farther, tensing the muscles, and tried to raise the arm from his side. Salvos of pain shot in all directions, and with a wince he let the arm drop. The pain lingered, throbbing with heat, but as it began to subside, he tried again. «Ahh!» Deciding to delay his therapy a little longer, he looked back down at the dock. A procession of Guardsmen dressed in the colors of Nakja-Mur’s clan had arrived and Nakja-Mur himself was ascending the gangway with Alan Letts and Jim Ellis. Despite the mess and the chaos on deck, Chief Gray managed to assemble a side party to receive them and the sound of his bosun’s pipe twittered from below. A few moments later, the two men and the rotund Lemurian leader were admitted to the bridge. Out in the open air, salutes were exchanged and Jim and Alan extended their hands in heartfelt relief. To Matt’s surprise, Nakja-Mur enveloped him in a crushing embrace. «Ah!» Matt said again, clenching his eyes shut. «I am so glad you and your ship did not die!» the High Chief exclaimed in much improved English. He was oblivious to the pain he’d accidentally caused. «Me too,» Matt agreed, once he could trust his voice. « Nakja-Mur nodded grimly. «A terrible thing. I am deeply grieved and angered by its loss. As I am for « Tabby was surprised by the cook’s priorities, but Isak and Gilbert both nodded solemnly. «It’s a hell of a thing,» Isak agreed. «How’s your gut feelin’, Earl?» Lanier glared up at him. «None of your goddamn business, snipe!» He straightened up on the stool as best he could and pulled his shirt closed over his grimy bandage. «Now you’ve stolen the best sammiches I had left, why don’t you quit goofin’ off and get back to work! I can’t fix the whole ship by myself!» They crossed the deck and ducked under the bridge beside the radio shack. Clancy was inside with the hatch open. His earphones were on his head and he nodded as they passed. Who knew what he was listening for. Going through the hatchway that led onto the foredeck, they emerged into sunlight again. Finally they’d found a place that hadn’t been damaged the night before — beyond a few dents and scratches from shell fragments — and so, for now at least, it was probably the quietest place on the ship. They crawled up under the splinter shield of the number one gun and stretched out in the sparse shade beneath it. «Laan-yeer is a strange man,» Tabby observed at length. «He think whole ship — just so he have galley.» «Yeah,» Isak agreed from beneath his right arm, which rested across his eyes. «But we’re sort of the same way, I guess. Nothin’ really matters except our boilers. Spanky has it tough. He has to worry about the boilers «Except the cap-i-taan,» Tabby said thoughtfully. «He have to worry about everything. Not just all ship, but They lay quietly for a moment, listening to the racket from aft. «Yeah,» Yager breathed at last. «I sure wouldn’t want his job.» |
||
|
© 2026 Библиотека RealLib.org
(support [a t] reallib.org) |