Distant Thunders d-4

by Taylor Anderson

  “Do it,” said Letts. “I want the skipper to have as much firepower as we can give him.”

  Ben Mallory had been murmuring something to Tikker during the exchange. He was utterly exhausted, having flown all day. Captain Reddy never did order him not to fly, but the Strakka had him grounded for now. By the time the storm was past, Ajax would surely be out of range. “I got an idea,” he said suddenly. All eyes turned to him. “Yeah,” he said, thinking fast, “I got a swell idea. When you get the ship all put back together, what’s going in that empty space where the torpedo tubes used to be? I know the searchlight tower’s there, but what else?”

  “I don’t know,” Spanky confessed. “Maybe those popguns Campeti was talking about.”

  “Why not give her one of the Nancys!” Ben said triumphantly. “Skipper’s always going on about recon,” he said a little smugly. “Let’s give him some!”

  Spanky, Letts, Adar, and Keje all looked at one another.

  “Would a davit lift one of those cockeyed contraptions of yours?” Letts asked.

  “Sure! They don’t weigh much. Might have to rig an extension boom. But with all the weight we’re saving, even with the Jap stuff you’re adding on, there’ll be plenty of margin for a plane, fuel, spares and such as well!”

  “And I guess you just happen to know somebody who’d volunteer to fly it, too?”

  “Well… sure.” Ben grinned.

  Letts looked at Adar, then shook his head. “Great idea, Ben, but not you. We need you to train pilots, not go tear-assing off on your own. Besides, don’t forget what Mr. Ellis found. What would we do about that without you?” Ben slumped, but brightened again at the prospect of an expedition to Tjilatjap. Tikker grinned hugely and his tail swished expectantly. “Not you either,” said Letts. “As our only other combat-experienced aviator, you’ll command Big Sal ’s air wing, or squadron”-he shook his head-“whatever you’re going to call it.”

  “Then who?” Ben and Tikker demanded simultaneously.

  “You said Ensign Reynolds is competent to commence independent operations. We’ll ask him if he’d like to volunteer.”

  “This is all very excellent, but this discussion has strayed somewhat,” Adar said. “You have convinced me that Walker will be ready. Good. What else must we do? There are other issues at hand.”

  “Well,” said Letts, “ Big Sal will soon be ready for sea. The new frigates too, as soon as we can fuel ’em. They’re finished. We’ll put the planes we have on Big Sal, and send the fleet off against the Grik. Humfra-Dar can then go in the dry dock. We’ll send a couple other Homes with the troops we can’t put in the frigates. Otherwise, we keep doing what we’re doing.” He looked around. “Making the tools for them to do the job.”

  “Indeed,” said Adar, “that is as I hoped. We must push the Grik! Whatever support Captain Reddy requires in the east, Saan-Kakja has promised. Already, ships are leaving Manila to intercept and shadow this Ajax. We have finally contacted Lieutenant Laumer on Talaud-his transmitter was damaged-and Captain Lelaa’s sloop will attempt to intercept Ajax as well. We have addressed all we seem capable of, yet one serious issue remains.”

  “Ah!” Courtney Bradford declared, speaking at last. He hadn’t had anything to add to the military and logistical discussion, but now his turn had come. “I presume you refer to a certain… ticklish physical and somewhat spiritual notion?”

  “It is not a notion!” Adar insisted. “For such a learned creature, you are so very cavalier with the most fundamental laws of things!”

  “Physics,” Bradford agreed. “And I assure you Mr. Chairman, I’m not in the least cavalier about that at all! The problem is, as I’ve so often told you-and not to put too fine a point on it or to intentionally insult you in any way-your understanding of some physical aspects of the world are… well… wrong.” He pointed at the map before them. “According to Captain Reddy’s last transmission, Commodore Jenks has at last freely revealed what many of us have long suspected: this Empire of New Britain Isles is centered in a chain we called the Hawaiian Islands! It is quite distant indeed. It is, in fact, according to your, um, mis understanding, quite an impossible place for anyone to be, or even exist. You recognize the world is round, like a cannonball, but since gravity pulls downward, you believe we here stand either near or upon the very top of the world! I assume this tradition is due to our proximity to the equator and the fact that the midday sun passes almost directly overhead. On its face, that would seem a most sensible and understandable position. I take it, however, from our discussions and a few old sayings I’ve heard, that you believe anyone who ventures too distant in any direction will plummet into the void of the heavens!”

  “That is a simplistic summation, but essentially correct. Of course, one may venture quite far before that occurs. You have shown me maps of where this Mada-gaaskar lies. You insist it is our ancestral home and I doubt it not. The distance and description are consistent with the Scrolls. Clearly one can exist even that far away, since we once did ourselves. The Grik dwell there still, and in places even more distant. But this… Ha-waa-ee… It is so far! It is in the Eastern Sea, where monsters even more terrifying than the mountain fish dwell! You cannot lightly ask anyone to venture that far.”

  “We must, and so will you,” Alan Letts said, “because that’s where Ajax is going.”

  Bradford pondered a moment. “My dear Adar, I know we have asked much of you and your people in matters of faith. We popped in here and, in some ways, stood many things you’ve always believed upon their heads. I personally apologize for that. Having one’s beliefs constantly under assault is always traumatic, and I do respect your beliefs even if they are wrong.” He cleared his throat, realizing that didn’t come out quite how he’d intended. “I shall ask you a rhetorical question. You are of the sea folk. You have wandered far indeed throughout your life. Perhaps, at times, you have even wandered far enough that you feared you were getting, oh, at least a little close to the dropoff point. True?”

  “Perhaps,” Adar reluctantly agreed. “Once we voyaged around the bottom of the land you call Aus-traalia. I admit I grew somewhat concerned.”

  “Tell me, as you drew farther south, did you notice anything extraordinary?”

  “It… was less warm.”

  “Yes, yes, but what I mean is, did you notice any tendency at all to walk strangely, or lean? Did you feel any sideways pull of gravity at all?” Adar didn’t answer, but he seemed frustrated and even a little irritated. “I must point out that we, these other humans and myself, have little better understanding of what gravity is than you do. We have learned that it works quite well and it is surprisingly consistent wherever one goes, whether here, Australia, or even the other side of the world. No matter where one goes, gravity always pulls downward, toward the center of the world! This, sir, is a fact. When Captain Reddy told you and Keje that he was born and raised on the ‘bottom’ of the world, he was quite sincere. Most of our American friends are from a land situated on the far side of this globe. I have never been to America, but I can assure you the Americans have, and they did not have to hang upside down, clinging to their land with their fingers!” He looked thoughtful. “Your beliefs are correct in the respect that the sea returns to the sky, but it does not pour off the side of the world to do it; it evaporates and travels upward, much like the smoke of your pyres carries the souls of your dead to the heavens! It is always dreadfully humid here, but surely you’ve experienced a day or two in your life when the air seemed less thick, less heavy?”

  Adar nodded speculatively.

  “Then there you have it! That thickness of the air is water being carried into the sky!”

  “If this ‘gravity’ works so well, then why does it not prevent that?” Adar demanded.

  Courtney sighed. “It’s a long story. I can and certainly will be more than happy to demonstrate the experiments required to prove it to you, but for the moment, I ask only that you trust me-trust us. The ultimate fact remains
that, in order to retrieve those who have been taken from us and deal with this… situation in the east that threatens to distract us from our bigger business, Captain Reddy will chase them when he arrives. As you have had faith in us before, have faith now; those who go east will not fall off the world. They”-he looked defiantly around the chamber-“ we may well face unknown dangers, but falling into the sky is not one of them!”

  Achilles arrived in Baalkpan Bay on the very heels of the Strakka, after what must have been a record passage. She’d sustained some minor damage, but Matt could find no fault with Jenks’s seamanship. Stony stares greeted her arrival and the flag she flew as she steamed into the bay and eased up to the dock. Only when Captain Reddy, the Captain’s Guard, and Chack’s Marines disembarked was there a marked decrease in the hostile tension. Many people still tried to get at the ship and the people aboard, but the company of the 2nd Marines with Chack was more than sufficient to keep the crowd at bay.

  Matt strode to meet Adar, Keje, Letts, and Spanky, flanked by Gray, Stites, O’Casey, and the rest of his personal guard. “It’s good to see you, Adar,” Matt said, receiving the customary embrace. Keje embraced him as well. “I wish it were under better circumstances.”

  “As do I, my friend. I cannot express-”

  “Skip it,” Matt interrupted. “It’s done. Quit beating yourself up. Now we have to decide what we’re going to do about it.”

  “Yes,” Adar agreed. “All has been prepared as you have specified. The wood and charcoal have been brought, as you ordered.” Adar pointed at a massive heap. “That is for Achilles, I take it?”

  “Yeah. Jenks wants to get under way as soon as possible. Can’t say I blame him.” He looked at Adar, at all the faces present. “And yes, I do trust him. What’s weird is, even O’Casey trusts him now. You wouldn’t believe the mess they’ve got at home.” He paused. “Or maybe you would. It’s sort of like Aryaal and B’mbaado, except it’s all mixed-up in one government.” He shook his head. “Anyway, that doesn’t matter. Jenks might catch them, but I doubt it. He has to try, though, and we might need him.” Suddenly, Matt looked at Walker, tied securely to the pier. Her upper works had not yet been repainted, except for a few spots where the weather had allowed the painting of some welds and seams. She looked like a patchwork quilt, but she was whole, or mostly so. Smoke rose from two stacks and workers shouted and scrambled over her. A strange-looking gun was being lowered onto her rebuilt and slightly reconfigured aft deckhouse. Her force-draft blower gave the distinct impression she was breathing on her own.

  “I didn’t believe it,” he confessed quietly. For a moment, the hard expression he’d worn melted away. “I couldn’t let myself.” He looked at Spanky. “Mr. McFarlane, my compliments-and my most heartfelt appreciation.”

  Spanky looked uncomfortable. “Shucks, Skipper, wasn’t just me.”

  “No, but you’re the ramrod. Always have been. Looking at you, I doubt you’ve slept since those bastards took the girls.”

  Spanky shrugged, glancing down at his stained and filthy self. “Not many have. You’re gonna need your ship for this one, Skipper. She’s the only thing in the world fast enough to catch them. You’ve pulled more than one trick out of her hat. I figure she’s got plenty more where they came from.”

  Matt clasped the skinny man’s arm. “You bet. How long?”

  “Two weeks, Skipper. We’ll have her good as new by then. Might be a few quirks-we’ve basically rebuilt her from the keel up-but that’s still a week ahead of schedule.”

  “I doubt it, if you count the man hours!” Matt chuckled grimly. “Give the guys a little more time off if you can. Don’t worry; I’m not going to stop you now!”

  Spanky-everyone-grinned relief. They’d been afraid the captain would want to leave immediately. Undoubtedly he did want to, but he also knew a fully repaired Walker would catch Ajax regardless of the head start over the vast distances they were contemplating. One thing bothered Keje, however, and he had to ask.

  “What will this Billingsly do with the hostages? He has threatened to kill them if he is harassed. Might he not do that anyway?”

  Matt shook his head. “I don’t think so, and neither does Jenks. Taking the princess was his objective. According to your accounts of the events, everybody else he took was basically an accident. If he just wanted Rebecca dead, he could have assassinated her many times and just left before anyone got wise.” He shook his head. “No, he wants her alive, or this Company he works for does. Probably as a bargaining chip to wring even more power from the governor-emperor. If I know the princess, she’s going to be making life miserable for Mr. Billingsly about now. See, not all of Ajax ’s crew are Company men. Even her captain is a loyalist, according to Jenks. Billingsly wouldn’t dare even clap her in irons without risking an open break with what has to be a very divided crew. I bet that will put the princess in a position to demand decent treatment for the hostages.”

  “I hope you are right,” murmured Adar.

  “Me too,” Matt admitted.

  Jenks joined them, saluting. “Please let me express my most abject apologies,” he said sincerely. “If I had only known-”

  “You stow it too,” Matt interrupted. “Everybody’s sorry. Okay. We’re all on the same side now, so let’s get on with it. What do you need?”

  “Very well. Some assistance loading the fuel aboard my ship would be appreciated. Our victuals should suffice, but a little more couldn’t hurt. Also, after observing the healing effects of your wondrous polta paste, I would beg some of that from you as well.”

  Adar, still eyeing Jenks suspiciously, motioned to one of his staff standing a discreet distance away. “See to it,” he commanded.

  “How are we fixed for transmitters and receivers?” Matt asked.

  Spanky looked around. “I’ll have to ask Riggs. Most have been going in the new ships as soon as they finish ’em.”

  “See if we can spare a set for Commodore Jenks. I want a couple of spares aboard Walker too. I never want to be out of touch again.”

  “Who’ll operate it?” Spanky asked, referring to the one meant for Achilles.

  “Clancy told me Mr. O’Casey has become fairly proficient. He didn’t have much else to do on the voyage out, after all. At least until we transferred him to Dowden.” Matt looked at Jenks, who was staring at his old nemesis.

  “Under the circumstances, I believe that would certainly be acceptable, if Mr. O’Casey-Bates-would be kind enough to agree. In fact, with the discovery that my second officer was one of Billingsly’s creatures, I have an opening there as well.”

  With a strange expression, O’Casey nodded. “Aye, ’twould be… interestin’ ta sail with ye again, Commodore. On the same side.”

  Dennis Silva groaned and opened his good eye. He’d actually been awake and alert for some time, but playing possum was a skill he’d learned in China once upon a time, and it had come in handy more than once. When, oh, Chinese gangsters, for example, thought you were down for the count, they were less prepared when you suddenly resurrected yourself and beat them to death with a goofy jade Buddha you didn’t know why you had. Life was weird that way, and it always helped to have an edge. He groaned again, making sure the ladies knew he was awake. He hadn’t learned much during his possum phase, but he did know everyone was alive, where they were, and that, for the moment, they were alone.

  “What hit me?” he grumbled. That was still a mystery. He’d been doing well enough, him and Lawrence, when everything just… quit. He knew his head hurt-badly-so something must have conked him. He didn’t remember anything else from then, until a short time ago.

  “Strange. I would have wagered on ‘where am I?’ came Sister Audry’s voice.

  “Wagerin’s a sin, Sister,” Dennis proclaimed piously. “ ’Sides, any fool can tell we’re at sea, an’ I been in enough brigs to recognize one for what it is, even if I never been in it before.”

  “The weapon was a bag of musket balls,” Princess Rebecc
a said, moving quickly to sit beside him where he lay on a pair of moldy blankets. “But the man who hit you was a particularly revolting and traitorous coward named Truelove. He seems to be Billingsly’s chief minion.” She caressed his forehead and then gingerly inspected his wound. “Healing nicely, at last,” she pronounced. Silva hadn’t yet tried to rise, but he suspected it would be a disorienting procedure.

  “Truelove, eh? Big guy? I remember him. Hafta make a point outta returning the favor. I hate leavin’ obligations like that undid.” He paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Knew it had to be a sneak attack. Ol’ Abe the newsboy mighta whupped me in a fair fight, but by the time I met him, it wouldn’t have been fair. Good fella. Readin’ about him’s practically what got me in the Navy. Practically.”

  “You fought splendidly before that coward struck you down!” Rebecca gushed. “Splendidly!”

  “Well… of course I did! Ol’ Larry helped a little, though. Say, how is the little lizardy guy?”

  “I okay,” came a familiar voice from the gloom.

  Sandra Tucker moved into Dennis’s field of vision. “Lucky for you, you showed enough sense to keep some polta paste in your shooting bag. Rebecca got it for us. She pretty much has the run of the ship. You probably would have come out of it-you’ve got a bad concussion, by the way-but we might have lost young Mr. Cook. Before Truelove hit you, he’d evidently fired his last pistol at the boy. The ball took a big hunk out of the top of his shoulder, close to his neck. Not normally a mortal wound, but it became infected quite quickly.”

  “Well. Yeah, I keep some o’ that stuff in there case o’ scratches an’ such. Be kinda stupid, after all we been through, to die o’ some infected scratch. How is the little bugger? Abel, right?”

  “I’m here, sir,” came a weak voice. “I’m well enough. I did what you said. I yelled and ran for help!”

  “And was shot for his efforts too, the brave, silly boy!” Rebecca scolded.

  “Oh, well. Ever’body gets shot sooner or later in the Navy. Seems like it, anyway. You done good, boy.” Silva finally tried to sit up, but it just wasn’t going to happen yet. He growled and lay back down. “So,” he said, “what’s the scam? Why ain’t we been rescued?”