Rising Tides: Destroyermen

by Taylor Anderson

  “Unprecedented,” Jenks conceded.

  “Ye vouch fer ’em, I assume? There’s restrictions, as ye know,” the man stated.

  “I know. I will bear any consequences.”

  Andrew shooed the Marines back to their posts. “Carry on,” he told them, then gestured at the visitors. “This way. His Majesty awaits ye in the library.”

  “Yeah,” Gray said to the Marines. “As you were. Nice, ah, muskets, fellas.”

  Matt glared at him.

  Matt assumed Andrew was a butler, or something of the sort, but when they reached a tall hardwood door at the end of the hallway, he opened it and preceded them inside, moving slightly to the left to stand before a massive overburdened bookcase. Jenks had told him that every book aboard the “Passage Squadron” of ancient East Indiamen was in Imperial custody. The printing press existed here, and other books—copies and new works—were available to anyone who could afford them, but the originals received the same protection as the Governor-Emperor did.

  The library was big but cozy, even cluttered in an absentminded, professorial fashion. Books (reprints, by the look of them) were scattered about, lying open. Strange machines stood on shelves, and on virtually every surface. The wood decor was dark, but the vast windows at the far end of the room permitted ample light to see and even work by, reflected by the almost universally white architecture outside. In the center of everything was a big, graying man, probably as powerful as the Bosun. He was in shirtsleeves and weskit, and a pair of spectacles rested on his nose. His silver-streaked hair was gathered in a queue with a black ribbon near the nape of his neck, and he regarded them with a magnifying glass in his left hand. Matt hadn’t really known what to expect. Jenks had described the man, but at first glance he seemed a decade older than Jenks had led him to believe. Apparently, by Jenks’s quickly concealed expression, he was surprised as well.

  “Commodore Jenks!” the man exclaimed, rising to stand nearly as tall as Matt. “Harvey!” He strode across the decorative rug and embraced Jenks long and hard. “I feared you were lost as well!”

  “Not lost, Your Majesty,” Jenks replied, “but considerably inconvenienced for a time. May I present my friends?”

  “Of course. You must, in any case.”

  “Indeed. Your Majesty, Governor-Emperor Gerald McDonald, sole sovereign, by the grace of God, of the Empire of New Britain Isles and all her possessions ...”

  “Yes, yes, Harvey, do get on with it,” the Governor-Emperor said with a slight grin. “And no more ‘Majesty’s,’ if you please. It has always been ‘Gerald’ between us.”

  “Very well. May I present Captain Matthew P. Reddy of the United States warship USS Walker. His preferred rank of ‘Captain’ does not reflect his full authority. He is, in fact, the Supreme Commander of all military forces united beneath the Banner of the Trees. I will explain all that implies in due course, but suffice for now, in this company, he has become my particular friend.”

  “An extraordinary achievement, surely,” the Governor-Emperor commented wryly, but without sarcasm. “There must be quite a tale behind that.”

  “Yes, sire,” Jenks agreed, dispensing with “Majesty,” but refusing to go further. “I must also present His Excellency Courtney Bradford, Esquire ; scientist, naturalist, and plenipotentiary at large for the aforementioned Alliance. Accompanying them is Chief Bosun’s Mate Fitzhugh Gray. He’s more than he appears as well, despite his best efforts to conceal it.”

  The Governor-Emperor forced a chuckle. Matt could tell there was one question he wanted answered before any other. Still, he faced Matt and offered his hand. “A pleasure, sir,” he said. “And please accept my profound admiration for your unusual, splendid ship. I’ve never seen her like!”

  Matt bowed slightly. “Thank you, sir, and the pleasure’s mine. Your city here is beautiful, and most impressive.” He paused, glancing at the commodore. “And before saying more, I’m compelled to note that it’s my understanding that Commodore Jenks might face some ... difficulty for having supposedly brought us here.”

  “It’s not ordinarily done,” the Governor-Emperor confirmed.

  “Well, then, let me put that issue to rest. It should be obvious to anyone that he didn’t bring us, we brought him. You see, we pretty much knew where you were without a word from him. Like your ancestors, we come from another world, and we’ve got it mapped out reasonably well. Through historical accounts, conversations with another of your subjects, and a process of elimination, we knew ... these islands were the only place your civilization could be.”

  Governor-Emperor McDonald gazed intently at Matt. “What subject?” he practically whispered.

  “A brave, beautiful, and intelligent young lady named Rebecca Anne McDonald, sir.”

  The Governor-Emperor visibly tensed. “How ... extraordinary,” he managed. “And where is this ... young lady, Captain? Where is my daughter?”

  “It’s a long story, sir, and you’re not going to like it any more than I do,” Matt said softly.

  Over the next two hours, Matt, Jenks, Courtney, and Gray told how Rebecca had survived the shipwreck, been rescued, endured the Battle of Baalkpan, and ultimately been abducted by the Company warden, Commander Billingsley. Throughout the story, the Governor-Emperor asked sufficient questions to ensure that they were telling the truth and, as Jenks foresaw, became completely convinced. He called for refreshment, chewed a quill, jumped to his feet and ranted around the room, and even shed miserable tears. He couldn’t hear enough about his daughter’s adventures, but he was in agony all the while. He blamed himself completely, since it was he who’d sent her away in the first place—to protect her from just such an attempt by the Company to gain her custody and use her welfare against him.

  “I love her quite desperately, you see,” he tearfully explained. “She is my only child.” He glanced at the ceiling and by inference, the living quarters above. “Our only child. My wife has not been the same since ... Oh, God damn those evil creatures! I will have all of them hanged!”

  “Of course, sire,” Jenks agreed, “but first, we need more proof than our own mere words. Ideally, we’ve beaten Billingsley here. I take it there’s been no news of Ajax?”

  “None. Nor has New Dublin declared a quarantine—the only way to prevent news of her arrival there,” answered the Governor-Emperor. He paused for a moment, a troubled expression clouding his face. “Of course, there has been precious little out of New Dublin of late.” He shook his head. “But surely, they could not hide Ajax.”

  “Then we must wait a bit longer,” said Jenks. “Either until Ajax arrives ... or Achilles brings Icarus and Ulysses in. Either will provide sufficient proof to destroy the Company and hang half the Court of Proprietors. If you act before then, it might well fracture the Empire and cause a civil war.”

  “It might regardless, but you’re right, of course.” The Governor-Emperor sighed. “What to do in the meantime? As your battle would testify, the Company certainly knows you found my daughter; they sent more ships to seize her. They cannot know of Ajax yet, so they must assume she’s either with you or left behind. Safe from them, at any rate. What will they do? We cannot pretend we know nothing of their scheme.”

  “With respect, sir,” Courtney interjected, “I believe we can. They have no way of knowing we ever met their, ah, criminal squadron—not yet. I propose that Mr. Gray immediately return to Walker and make sure everyone aboard understands they must make no reference to the hostilities, or to any meeting with other Imperials besides Jenks and his people. As far as any of us are concerned, the princess is safe with the rest of Jenks’s squadron and coming on directly.”

  “Oh, if only it were true!” the Governor-Emperor practically moaned, then shook his head. “Of course. An excellent stroke, Your Excellency. Playing that role might be more than my wife can bear, but I shall try to manage. Andrew?” He gestured to the man still standing just inside the door, where he’d remained since they entered. “Please escort
Mr. Gray back to Captain Reddy’s ship—with your permission, Captain.”

  Matt whispered something in Gray’s ear, and the older man nodded. “Absolutely, sir.”

  When Andrew and the Bosun left, Jenks looked questioningly at Matt. “Is there a concern you’d like to share?”

  “Not really. I hope not. It just occurred to me, though, that this ‘Andrew’ guy has heard everything we’ve said. I told Boats to keep an eye on him.”

  The Governor-Emperor looked shocked. “Preposterous! I’ve known Andrew my entire life.”

  “As you knew Sean Bates?” Matt asked.

  “How the devil do you know that name?”

  “Through Commodore Jenks,” Matt replied. “I knew the man by another name—‘Sean O’Casey.’ I still call him that.”

  “Good God!” The Governor-Emperor looked at Jenks in amazement.

  “Yes, sire,” Jenks admitted. “He never abandoned us, though we abandoned him. It was he who first saved your daughter, and lost an arm doing it.”

  “Good God!” he repeated. “Bates! Where?”

  “Aboard my ship,” Matt said.

  Governor-Emperor McDonald’s face worked. “He was right all along,” he said. “We knew it too. We just didn’t know how right.” He straightened. “You were wise to leave him aboard ship. Even missing an arm, he would be recognized. Please convey to him my deepest appreciation, affection ... and apology, until I can do it in person.”

  “Yes, sire.”

  There came a knock at the door, and a sentry opened it slightly. Without waiting to be announced, a small, plain, unremarkable-looking man strode through the gap, an annoyed expression on his baggy face. “We are invaded by strangers, and I only learn of it from my barber!” he complained. Despite his bold entrance, the man’s voice was wispy, almost whiny.

  The Governor-Emperor regarded the man coldly and Matt feared that Courtney’s new plan would disintegrate immediately. Instead, Jenks spoke. “They’re not strangers to me, Sir Reed, and they have certainly not invaded. They brought me here at my request aboard their remarkably swift vessel so I might acquaint His Majesty with the results of our expedition.”

  “Jenks!” the man exclaimed, taking a step back as if he’d met a ghost.

  In the meantime, the Governor-Emperor had regained his composure. “Yes, it is Jenks,” he said. “Not lost after all. You’ll have to withdraw your self-serving appropriation to erect a monument to ‘the noble explorer.’ ” In an aside to Matt, he said, “This is the ‘Honorable’ Harrison Reed, supposedly former Director of Company Operations. He is currently my chief antagonist in the Court of Proprietors, among whom he holds the Prime Seat.”

  So this—unimposing person—was the instigator of all the hardships and loss they’d endured, first through Billingsley, then through his subsequent responses to news of the princess’s rescue. Keeping his features carefully neutral, Matt stood. “Mr. Reed,” he said in greeting, “I’m Captain Reddy.” Was there the slightest hint of recognition?

  “Sir Reed,” the man said, almost absently. “But where is Ajax ... and Achilles?” Reed plowed on, clearly dismissing him. “And the other two—I can’t remember their names.”

  “Achilles will be along shortly,” Jenks said. “I regret to report that the others were variously lost, one to a leviathan, and Ajax is missing and presumed lost. There were storms.... In any event, I dispatched Agamemnon home some time ago with news of our situation and the happy rescue of the Princess Rebecca. Did Agamemnon not arrive?”

  “She did not,” Reed lied smoothly with just the right tone of regret. If anyone had harbored the slightest doubt that this ridiculous man was involved in the conspiracy, it was swept away. Agamemnon had returned with the others as part of the “criminal” squadron and engaged them in battle alongside the other Imperial and Company ships. Agamemnon had been destroyed by Walker.

  “Most tragic,” commented the Governor-Emperor. “Unless Ajax turns up, Achilles will be the only survivor.”

  “A stiff price to pay for the life of a single girl,” Reed stated. “As I initially argued.”

  “But well worth the price,” Jenks jabbed, “since the princess was indeed rescued. Even now, she returns aboard Achilles in the company of a protective Allied force that carries enough fuel for Captain Reddy’s ship to return home.”

  “What size force?” Reed demanded, suddenly less haughty. “How do we know their intentions? If all Captain Reddy needs is fuel enough to go home, we can provide that.”

  “Walker doesn’t burn wood or coal, sir,” Matt said simply.

  “Ridiculous! She’s a steamer—I saw her myself on the way over.”

  “She’s a steamer, all right,” Matt agreed, “but she burns oil—refined petroleum. You have none here.”

  “Preposterous,” mumbled Reed. He looked at Jenks. “Where’s Commander Billingsley? Company wardens are sent aboard Imperial ships to ensure there are no grievous lapses in judgment—such as bringing strangers to our sacred home. I’d like to hear what he has to say about all this.”

  Jenks shook his head. “Regrettably, Commander Billingsley desired transfer to Ajax some months ago, and as a Company warden”—he almost sneered the words—“it was not my place to discourage his whim.”

  “Then send me his deputy!” Reed demanded, his voice rising.

  Governor-Emperor McDonald stood. “You do not shout demands in This house, Prime Proprietor!”

  “Of course not, Your Majesty,” Reed replied, practically simpering. “I beg your forgiveness. I am overwrought with grief. Mr. Billingsley had entered an engagement to my niece. Regardless, I do beg an interview with his deputy.”

  “None are present,” Jenks said. “Those who remain”—he hoped there weren’t any, but it was nearly impossible to be sure—“are aboard Achilles. Captain Reddy’s ship has little extra space. Only Lieutenant Blair and a dozen of his Marines accompanied me. There was no room for more.”

  “Well, then,” Reed replied stiffly, “I suppose we have no choice but to accept your version of events until Achilles arrives.”

  “I suppose not, Prime Proprietor.”

  Reed turned to face the Governor-Emperor. “But what of these ... animals ... infesting that ... wrongly appointed ship in question? Surely the thing must be quarantined? There has to be disease aboard. Filthy, furry creatures! Keeping an ape for a pet is one thing. My son has a parrot. But allowing them to romp all over one’s ship is quite another!”

  Matt took a step forward, but Courtney placed a hand on his arm. “Those ‘apes’ constitute a large percentage of my crew,” Matt said, seething. “They’re not apes, but people, just like us. They don’t look like us, but they’re highly intelligent, loyal, and honorable friends. The weakest among them could also unscrew your head without effort.” Matt looked at the Governor-Emperor. “Not apes,” he emphasized again. “We call them Lemurians and that seems to suit them. They’re our friends and allies. Those aboard my ship have sworn the same oath as my men and are our countrymen. You might want to pass that word.”

  “Dear me,” Reed proclaimed with mock regret, “I seem to be striking raw nerves with every word! Perhaps I should go before I inadvertently instigate hostilities!” He bowed to the Governor-Emperor. “Joy to you, sire, for the imminent return of your daughter. Now that I have some notion what the fuss at the waterfront was about, I’ll let you treat with these strangers in peace. Please excuse me.”

  “Good-bye, Mr. Reed,” Matt said in a neutral tone. “I’m sure we’ll speak again.”

  Reed paused in the doorway, looking back. For the first time, it seemed his full attention was focused on Matt. “Indeed,” he said, then was gone.

  After Reed departed, they talked a while longer about their plan, then shifted topics to the Lemurians and the Grik, the war raging far to the west, and the stakes involved. The Governor-Emperor seemed oddly sympathetic.

  “You have told Captain Reddy of the Dominion, have you not?” he asked.
r />   “Of course,” Jenks said.

  “Well,” continued the Governor-Emperor, looking at Matt, “with the ... displacement ... of our government here to New Scotland, the Dominion ambassador, a particularly unpleasant Blood cardinal with the perversely ironic name of Don Hernan DeDivino Dicha, has followed us here. I shouldn’t wonder if he contacts you, quite soon in fact, requesting a meeting.”

  Matt was taken aback at first, but supposed he should have expected it. “He’ll be just as curious about us as your people are,” he surmised, then snorted. “Divino Dicha! Shit! ... Ah, excuse me, sir.”

  “Precisely.”

  “What do you recommend I do?”Matt asked.

  Governor-Emperor McDonald looked at Jenks.

  “As I said, sire. He is my friend. I trust him completely.”

  McDonald looked back at Matt and shrugged. “Meet with him,” he said. “As these Grik of yours might someday threaten us here, his nation could eventually threaten yours. I suggest you get to know him.”

  It was almost dusk before Matt, Jenks, and Bradford left Government House on their way back to the ship. The Governor-Emperor had halfheartedly asked them to stay and dine with him, but everyone was tired, and Matt suspected the man needed some time alone with his wife. Now they spoke quietly as they walked, so the squad of Imperial Marines escorting them wouldn’t overhear.

  “Lord,” Matt said, “what a screwed-up mess.” He felt the reassuring weight of his belted weapons. “Good thing I didn’t have either of these with me. I might’ve killed that slimy bastard Reed.”

  Jenks shook his head. “You wouldn’t have. I’ve seen you angry—very angry—but never enough to lose your senses. We’ve constructed a delicate web of deceit for Reed and his creatures to entangle themselves in. No doubt they have planned a similar trap for us, with much more time to prepare. Hopefully ours will startle them into revealing theirs, or launching their plot before it is complete.” He shook his head and slowed. “With your permission, Captain, I won’t return to the ship tonight.”