Distant Thunders d-4

by Taylor Anderson

  “We’re hostages,” Sandra said simply. “They’ve threatened to kill us if our forces molest them. For a couple of days, one of our planes came and buzzed around, but we haven’t seen it since the storm.”

  “A couple o’ days! A storm! How long have I been out?”

  “Several days. I believe you were in a coma.”

  “Huh. Damn, no wonder I’m so hungry. Several days on this bucket and we could be anywhere. That’s the first thing we gotta figure out: where we are. Then we gotta keep track of our position.”

  “Why?” Sister Audry asked.

  “So we’ll know when to get off, of course! If they’re keepin’ us hostage, our folks won’t blow the hell outta this tub! Besides, Dennis Silva ain’t nobody’s hostage!”

  “What’s your plan?” Rebecca asked eagerly.

  “Ain’t got one yet. I just woke up, remember? Gimme a minute or two to figure the angles. So, Miss… Lieutenant… Minister.. .”

  Sandra laughed. “Lieutenant will still do.”

  “Thanks, ma’am. Lieutenant Tucker says you got the run o’ the ship?”

  “Essentially,” Rebecca replied. “That porcine beast must preserve the fiction he has rescued me from you. No one actually believes it. I spend most of my time down here, after all, but he dares not put me in irons. My behavior is controlled by threats against your well-being.”

  “You figure there’s anybody aboard we can count on?”

  “I’m sure of it. There are more Company men aboard Ajax than any ship that sailed with the squadron, but not all are traitors. Why, even the captain, Captain Rajendra, is a loyal man! He fairly chafes! He does not know what to do, however. Less than half the crew stands with him.”

  “The captain himself, eh?” Silva pondered. “Sure you can trust him?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then get our position from him. We need maps too. Charts.”

  “What have you got in mind?” Sandra demanded.

  “Well, I’m still conjurin’ it up, and me and the boy have a little healin’ to do, but it strikes me the last thing we want is to wind up wherever this ship is goin’. Once we’re there, there won’t be any use for us. There may not be any use for the princess. So somewhere between here and there, we have to switch trains.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Irvin Laumer’s eyes jerked open and he leaped to his feet when he heard the scream. Everyone was exhausted and he’d been taking a short siesta in the shade of a leafy lean-to on the beach. Only an idiot would do such a thing under the standing trees on Talaud Island. It took him an instant to realize the scream had come from the workers near the sub. Sprinting through the loose sand, he yanked the 45 from his holster and jacked a round into the chamber.

  “What the hell’s going on here?” he shouted. The screaming had stopped, but there was still a lot of shouting and confusion around the work site.

  “One of the ’Cats was just walking across the gangplank to the boat,” Danny Porter said excitedly, “when this jet of water, like a highpressure hose, knocked him off into the water! As soon as he fell in, something… got him!”

  Irvin looked at him incredulously, then eased a little closer to the basin they’d begun excavating around S-19. There was a lot of water down there, and nothing they could do about it. Some soaked in through the sand and more came in with the tide when the sea was running high. Sometimes the boat actually floated. “What was it?” Irvin asked.

  “How the hell am I supposed to know?” Danny demanded. “There’s all kinds of weird, murdering critters running around on this place! It’s a miracle we survived here as long as we did before, and we were idiots to come back to it!” Danny brought his voice under control. “And if that ain’t enough, we’ve got that thing scaring the water out of everybody!” He pointed at the mist-shrouded volcano in the distance. When they’d been marooned on Talaud Island, the volcano occasionally rumbled and made the ground shake, but for the past few weeks, it had been venting almost constantly. Sometimes it belched heavy clouds of ash that settled on them and got into everything when the wind was right. Sometimes it just made creepy noises. A time or two, they’d had spectacular light shows in the middle of the night. Nobody in their group really knew squat about volcanoes, aside from a few historical accounts, but the overwhelming consensus was that the Talaud volcano was building up to something big.

  The problem was, they were stuck there-marooned again, in a sense. Simms ’s consort had been little more than a freighter, and once she’d off-loaded the equipment, machinery, fuel oil for the steam boiler, and the hopefully required diesel, she’d sailed for Manila for more supplies. Simms had remained, lending her crew to the labor and as a safety measure in case, for any reason, they had to abandon the expedition. But even Simms and Captain Lelaa were gone now. They’d sailed two days before to rendezvous with a little squadron of feluccas led by Saan-Kakja’s brother to intercept and at least pinpoint Ajax ’s position.

  Irvin understood why Lelaa had to go, but it left him and his crew in a pickle. Simms had taken the newly repaired transmitter, and the set on the boat was irreparable. Tex was trying to build another set like Riggs’s design from the parts at hand, but it was slow going. In the meantime, they were at the mercy of all the terrors Walker had once rescued them from-the dangerous predators including the nocturnal tree git-yas, as Flynn had called them, bizarre creatures that looked and acted like a cross between a Grik and a sloth that dropped on unwary prey from above. There were other things, almost ghostly things no one had ever really seen or had a shot at, that could snatch a man and run faster than anything ought to be capable of. Then there was the mountain, of course. Now…

  “Did anybody get a look at it at all?” Laumer asked of the creature that got the ’Cat.

  “Well, it was kind of blotchy,” Sid Franks volunteered. As the carpenter, he would now have to repair the damaged gangplank. The jet of water had enough force to blow off the handrail. “It swirled up when it…” He stopped, staring at the water.

  “So whatever it is, it’s still in there?” There were nods and Irvin sighed. “Must be a sea creature. Came out of the water last night when nobody was looking and moved in.” He shrugged. “Only one thing for it.” He turned to Midshipman Hardee, who, along with a ’Cat who’d been dubbed Spook, had increasingly taken on their ordnance duties. “We have to get rid of this thing before we can get any more work done today. Get some of the grenades and all the small arms. Make sure you issue them to guys who know how to use them.”

  The armed guards who protected the workers from the denizens of the jungle were summoned, and with the distribution of the four other Krags and the single Thompson (all the small arms had been retrieved from the submarine on Walker ’s previous visit) a total of eight riflemen, one submachine gunner (Danny), and Irvin Laumer armed with his pistol prepared to face whatever was in the water. Six grenadiers had simple, ingenious devices quite similar to the grenades the Americans were accustomed to. They were virtually identical in form and function, although the fuses weren’t as reliable. There could be as many as ten seconds or as few as two before the things went off, so there was never any goofing around after the spoon flew.

  Irvin nodded at the first ’Cat grenadier. The idea was to chase the creature aft, toward the screws, where the water was shallower. There they hoped to get some shots at it. The grenades weren’t powerful enough to damage the pressure hull of the submarine, but Irvin told them not to throw the things too close to it anyway. With a returning nod, the first ’Cat pulled the pin and dropped his weapon in the water. A few seconds later, a geyser of spume and white smoke erupted into the air with a dull thump, and this was the signal for the next grenade. A high, splashing column of water that dissipated downwind followed another ker-plunk. A third grenade went off. Then a fourth. Suddenly, out of the spume of the fifth grenade, something.. . terrifying… scrambled up out of the excavation directly at Tex Sheider. At first glance, it looked like a mottled black-and-g
reen spider, but it had a tail sort of like a lobster and long, thin claws to match, making it at least ten feet long. One of the claws clutched the partially shredded body of the ’Cat workman.

  “Holy shit!” was all Tex had time to screech before it blew him off his feet with a concentrated burst of seawater. Instantly, the monster lunged at him.

  “Well… fire, damn it!” Irvin yelled.

  Danny opened up with his Thompson, spraying chunks off the beast in all directions. The black powder loads under his bullets created a fog bank of white smoke around him. The thing recoiled from the impacts and writhed in agony. The other riflemen had recovered somewhat from the sudden appearance and attack and were scrambling to shoot without hitting one another. Irvin stepped forward, firing his pistol. He’d never fired any of the new loads before and was surprised not only by the smoke, but by the significantly greater recoil and loud boom that came with every shot instead of the usual sharp bark. The hideous creature turned to face him and he steeled himself for another blast of water. This time, however, there was only a meager, bloody splurt, and as he emptied his magazine, the creature suddenly flopped on its back and began to spasm violently. Irvin ran to Tex and grabbed him by the shirt, dragging him farther from the dying beast. Tex seemed unconscious, and where his shirt had torn, Irvin could see a dark red impact point on his chest.

  “Cease firing!” he shouted at the men and ’Cats who were still shooting at the creature. Any twitching movement was sufficient proof to them that more bullets were called for. “Get over here! Help me with this man!”

  Irvin was feeling for a pulse when Tex suddenly groaned. “Oh, Jesus, that hurts.” He gasped.

  “What does?”

  “What do you think! It feels like that thing squirted a fourteen-inch shell at me!”

  Irvin gently tore the rest of the shirt away. The red mark was already turning black. “Lie still! You may have some broken ribs! No wonder it was able to knock the ’Cat off the gangway! You’re lucky it didn’t stop your heart.”

  “I think it did, for a minute.”

  “Well… we don’t have a real doctor. Sid knows a thing or two. Should be able to tell if anything’s broken. You’ll be taking it easy for a while, anyway.” He motioned for some ’Cats to move Tex under the lean-to he’d been napping under. “Danny, form a detail to bury our man,” he said, referring to the half-eaten ’Cat. “And get that damn nasty thing’s corpse out of my sight!”

  “Yes, sir,” Danny said. Only later did it occur to Irvin that the man had called him “sir.” He raised the 1911 Colt and looked at it. Filthy. The new rounds might work okay, but they sure dirtied up a gun. “Mr. Hardee, you and Spook gather up all the weapons that were fired and clean them thoroughly. Step on it, too. No telling when we’ll need them again.”

  Irvin sighed and looked at the submarine while workers either resumed their tasks or performed the duties he’d just ordered. Somehow, he’d managed to last until no one was looking before the shakes overtook him. For a long moment, he just held his trembling hands tight against his sides, waiting for the spell to pass-hoping it was just a spell. He’d been wondering more and more whether he was ready for this. In the past, he’d always had someone to turn to, to turn things over to when it started getting rough. Now he was it. He had to come to grips with that. Ultimately, that was the real test Captain Reddy had given him, and in an even greater sense it was the test he’d set himself.

  So far, in spite of everything, they’d made a lot of progress. S-19 hadn’t been badly damaged before it wound up here, just out of fuel. Time and the elements had treated her more harshly than the Japanese did. “Task Force S-19” had done good work and with any luck, they’d get her off eventually. The trouble was, did they have time? Would the island even let them go? One thing was almost certain: they’d lose more people before they were done. He hoped it would be worth it, and he hoped he wouldn’t lose his mind-or his nerve. He wished Lelaa were here!

  Without noticing when it happened, he realized that his hands had stopped shaking. It was just a spell after all, he decided. This time. He looked at the lean-to, where Sid was inspecting Sheider. They were talking in low tones and he even heard a faint laugh. He shook his head and started back toward the sub.

  Lelaa was mad as hell. She’d had Simms heaved to, just as the commander of the steamer had instructed. Her orders were not to fire on the Imperial ship for any reason, and while she understood the orders, she was still frustrated. Not that it would have done much good. The Imperial frigate was more than a match for her and both sides knew it. Still, this order to heave to only added insult to injury. Two feluccas, the ones she’d been dispatched to meet, had also loosed their sails.

  Their mission had been to avoid contact, to observe from a distance and report, but the wind had died away and the steamer came to them. Helpless now, all they could do was what they were told. The enemy (she could think of it as nothing else) steamer closed the distance until she saw a form raise a speaking trumpet.

  “I am impressed by your people’s persistence,” an amplified but distorted voice called, “but this is becoming ridiculous. I can’t have you hounding us all the way to our destination! This is the last time I will suffer any interference! The next Allied vessel that crosses my path will be destroyed.”

  Lelaa quickly motioned for a speaking trumpet as well. Raising it to her lips, she caught herself wishing Irvin were there. She knew her English was better than good, but he’d always just seemed to have a way about him. “Excuse me, please,” she called back. “We have neither the desire nor the ability to interfere with your progress. It is you who closed the distance with us. Our mission is merely to ensure that the hostages are safe and well. This is no more than I understand you invited us to do!”

  “That is all? You don’t mean to menace us with your mighty fleet?” mocked the voice.

  Lelaa’s tail swished with rage, but she managed a civil reply. “That is all, I assure you.”

  The man across the water didn’t speak for a while, as if he were considering something. Finally he raised the trumpet again. “Since, as I said, this is the last time I will be bothered by you or your Alliance, I will allow you to come across and interview my guests. Come aboard alone. If I see any weapons, you will be fired upon!”

  Lelaa lowered her trumpet, stunned. “Hoist out a boat,” she said.

  Clambering up the side of the Imperial frigate, Lelaa was not met by the sort of side party she’d grown to expect. Instead, a pair of armed men essentially took her into custody and escorted her to a small gathering by the rail. She’d never actually met Princess Rebecca, but she recognized her on sight. She bowed. “Greetings, Your Highness,” she said in her most respectful tone. “I trust you and your companions are well?”

  “Look. The monkey talks!” muttered a large, dangerous-looking man in the group.

  “There, there, Mr. Truelove! Let’s attempt to be civil!” admonished another, probably Billingsly, Lelaa decided.

  “Well enough,” the girl replied. “For now.” She seared the one who must be Billingsly with a glare. “But one takes these things day by day.”

  Lelaa addressed Billingsly. “And what of the other hostages? She says they are well, but where are they? Have you any idea how important they are to us?”

  Billingsly smiled. “Honestly, at first I did not. I expected my resolve to be tested and I’d be forced to, um, release a few of them over the side, as it were. Imagine my surprise when that did not occur! We quickly learned the truth of the matter. We knew who the Roman witch was, but good gracious! You cannot imagine how amazed we were to discover one of our guests, the noble Minister Sandra Tucker, is practically affianced to your Supreme Commander!” He chuckled. “Honestly, I confess to a professional lapse. I never had any idea, yet the young princess let it slip as if it were common knowledge!”

  Rebecca loosed a glare of perfect hatred at Billingsly.

  “I’ll wager your Captain Reddy was a tad u
pset? I understand you have some means of rapid communication, so I expect he has been informed.”

  “He knows,” Lelaa admitted, “and I submit that you cannot imagine the wrath you have brought down upon yourself!”

  “Oh, splendid!”

  Lelaa was confused. “In any event, if any of the hostages have been mistreated…”

  “Not a hair on their heads! They are confined, of course-no end to mischief in a couple of them-but their wounds are healing nicely and they thrive in their accommodations. It is a bit cramped, and I’m afraid privacy is at a premium, but no one would say they’ve been mistreated!” A strange expression crossed Billingsly’s face. Unlike most Lemurians Lelaa was good with human face moving, but this was.. . different. “Nor will you be, so long as you behave.”

  “What… what do you mean?”

  Truelove laughed and Billingsly’s lips quirked into something like a smile. “Why, you will be joining them, of course.” He turned to a darker-skinned man with a graying mustache. “Is that ridiculous ship still there? I believe I gave them fair warning that I did not wish to be pestered again! Open fire!”

  “What! Wait!” cried Lelaa, struggling against the two guards who’d suddenly seized her arms. “You said ‘the next time,’ damn you!”

  Billingsly turned to her. “When you had the insolence, the gall to raise your speaking trumpet and answer back at me… at me! You who are not only a lesser species, but a female!” Billingsly barked an incredulous laugh. “That was the next time. Captain Rajendra, I gave you an order!”

  The dark-skinned man replied, clearly forcing his voice to remain calm. “Commander Billingsly, firing on that ship would be an act of willful murder. They are completely unprepared… Their guns are not even run out!”