“Hurry it up, you pack o’ jackals!” the Bosun berated. He pointed at the continuing distant fight between Achilles and her foe. “We got friends over there dyin’ and more scum like you to kill! You got one minute before I yank these nets and we leave you here!” There were moans and cries from the water, but somehow the men, many still injured, managed to climb or splash along a little faster.
“You are consistent, at least,” Chack remarked softly. He’d appeared beside the Bosun still holding his Krag instead of one of the new Springfield muskets. “You are merciless to everyone.”
“I ain’t merciless,” Gray murmured through clenched teeth. “I actually feel sorta sorry for the bastards. I just want ’em scared of us before they come aboard. Make ’em easier for your boys to handle.”
For a moment, Chack said nothing, possibly digesting the Bosun’s words. “It is… strange,” he said at last.
“What?”
“All the hu-maans we have ever really known have been our benefactors. They have helped us. It is very… disconcerting now to have fought them, and killed… so many.”
“You helped us kill Japs, and they’re sorta human, I guess.”
“True, but these”-he gestured at the last of the survivors climbing the cargo netting-“these are more like you. They speak the same language, and more important, to us at least, they are the very descendants of the original tail-less ones, the ones who came before.” He paused. “It is… hard to know they can be bad, and maybe a little hard to know you can kill them without remorse.”
“I said I felt sorry for the bastards, didn’t I?” Gray demanded quietly. He shrugged. “Hell, I felt a little sorry for them Jap destroyermen that got ate-before we met you. But war’s war, and it’s a damn strange world-whichever the hell world you’re from.” It was Gray’s turn to pause. “Just remember, they started this fight here today, and it was friends o’ theirs who took Lieutenant Tucker, the princess, your buddy Silva, and all the rest. Friends o’ theirs who slaughtered Simms and all the ’Cats on board. It’s a strange world, sure, but strange as this fight today may seem to you, it’s crystal clear to me.”
He motioned at the bedraggled survivors, maybe thirty in all, not counting those in the wardroom. “There’ a lot more of ’em than I expected, and that’s a fact.” He turned to Chack. “Take charge of your prisoners, if you please.”
CHAPTER 25
Captain Reddy and Commodore Jenks met that evening aboard HNBC Ulysses, the captured enemy flagship. Except for her starboard paddles, she hadn’t suffered much. Achilles had been badly mauled in her fight with HNBC Caesar, and had suffered over seventy killed and wounded. She’d require significant repairs before she could continue on. Caesar was in worse shape, and once all her wounded were moved to Ulysses and Icarus -the ship that surrendered early on- Caesar would be allowed to sink.
Jenks’s fight was practically over by the time Walker steamed to her aid, but the destroyer’s appearance had ended any further resistance. Matt then turned his ship in pursuit of Ulysses. He’d wondered at the time why she would abandon her consorts so readily, but when she too surrendered as he drew near, and he was forced to endure the sniveling apologies and explanations of the squadron’s admiral, he understood. Chack and his Marines remained aboard Ulysses while Walker towed her back to the other somewhat assembled ships.
Meanwhile, Jenks had gone aboard Caesar and Icarus and gained a little information. To everyone’s complete surprise, the ship Walker had destroyed was Agamemnon herself, the very same ship that Jenks had dispatched home so long ago. He’d also discovered his own loyal Ensign Parr aboard Icarus. Icarus had been another Navy ship “pressed” into Company service, and was considered the least reliable in the squadron. It was to her that most of the known Imperial loyalists had been sequestered. The young ensign had recognized Achilles and risen up with some trusted men, seized the ship, and promptly surrendered her before she could fire a shot. It was Parr who confirmed the terrible news that only the Company had ever learned the results of Jenks’s mission, and more important, that they’d discovered the governoremperor’s daughter alive.
Now Matt and Jenks strode Ulysses ’s quarterdeck, talking quietly, while both men’s guards stood watchfully by. From amidships came the cries of the wounded Walker had picked up, as they and the other prisoners were transferred aboard.
“How come you took Achilles in like that?” Matt finally asked. “We could have destroyed all four ships from beyond their range.”
“That’s why I took her in,” Jenks replied. “I’m reliably informed that you have a temper, and I feared you would destroy them all once they’d fired at you. Was I wrong?”
Matt shrugged. “I don’t think I’d have fired on the ship that surrendered,” he said, a little defensively. “I didn’t destroy this ship.”
“Ahh, but by the time you caught her, your passion had faded!”
“Mmm,” Matt said noncommittally. He pointed at the wounded and the prisoners coming aboard. “What’re we going to do with all of them?”
“I suppose we must convene a court-martial,” Jenks replied. “We have many repairs to attend and I understand even your ship was slightly damaged?” Matt nodded, thinking of poor Aubrey. “That should give us sufficient time,” Jenks added. “If you’ve no objection, I think Imperial forms might be most appropriate. Three officers will preside as judges. I would be indebted if you yourself would sit, as well as two other officers of your choosing. I know you’re not disinterested, but you have no personal knowledge of any of the defendants. I expect you will also assume not all are guilty, as Mr. Parr was not.”
“Why don’t you do it?” Matt asked. “Even some of your loyalists might object to a foreigner.”
“As prosecutor, I cannot preside.”
“Oh. Okay then. I’ll appoint a couple of others. I don’t think taking volunteers would be a good idea just now.”
“Perhaps not.”
For a while, they just walked together and an awkward silence hung about them.
“How’s it feel?” Matt finally asked.
Jenks looked disdainfully at the bloody sling supporting his left arm. “It hurts a bit,” he confessed with a grin, “but that wondrous ooze your medical… person applied has dulled the edge.”
“Good. Shouldn’t get infected either. How’s O’Casey?”
“Hmm? Oh, Bates. Ha. Utterly insufferable. He wasn’t hurt at all, but I confess at times I wished for a ball to take off his head.”
“I guess he came up with a number of ways to say, ‘I told you so’ ? ”
Jenks looked blank for a moment before realization dawned. “Oh! Oh, yes. An infinite number of ways, and without pause, I might add.” Jenks shook his head. “He was right all along. I think I even knew it back then, but the politics of New London are considerably less clear at home than they are out here, at the ends of the earth. I hope someday he will forgive me and we might be friends again.” Jenks gestured at his arm. “Now that I know where the true infection lies.”
“So it would seem,” Matt said, and sighed. “And here we are, over a thousand miles from where I ought to be fighting who I ought to be fighting. We still don’t know where Billingsly and my people-and your princess-are, but we do know your governor-emperor never knew we even had the girl. This Honorable New Britain Company did, though, and fired on the ship-my ship!-they suspected she was on. The only explanation for that is that now, they want her dead! Apparently, this Company is pulling a major power grab, and everything and everyone both of us cares about might depend, one way or another, on how that turns out. Jeez, if that doesn’t put us on the exact same side at long last, I don’t know what ever would.”
“I apologize for all of this,” Jenks said quietly. “Everything.”
Matt became angry. “Damn it, Jenks, I don’t want your apology! Maybe that’ll make you feel better for being such a jerk once, but all it does now is cheapen everything we’ve done-and have to do! I still think we
need to be friends, your people and mine, because-as I’ve been trying to pound into that thick skull of yours-there are bigger threats out there than either one of us can handle on our own. There may be stuff we can’t even imagine yet! On top of that, I want my people back, the ones Billingsly took! Maybe you didn’t know, but Sandra Tucker, well… she’s my girl… and I want her back!”
“I am aware of that,” Jenks said softly.
“Yeah? Well, be aware of this! That night on Donaghey during the Strakka, right after the fight for Singapore when we heard the news, I swore an oath. As God is my witness, whoever took her, whoever’s responsible for taking her and the others, and for the unprovoked attack on Baalkpan…” Matt took a breath and his green eyes were as remorseless as the sea. “You can add Simms and my ship here today to the list now, but whoever put all this in motion, no matter who he is, is going to pay!”
EPILOGUE
Halik stared greedily at the map laid before him on the table in the brazier-lit chamber. It was a map of all the known world, and the chaotic jumble of mountains and coastlines, rivers and islands fascinated him. He dully remembered, even as a young Uul warrior, occasionally wondering how his Hij commanders could know how the world was shaped and how they knew where to take them to fight. Now he could see, look down upon, where he was, and many of the places he’d been before. He’d learned much in the months since his unexpected elevation, but maps and the terrain they depicted still held him almost spellbound. Matching terrain in his memory with what he saw on the maps was like scratching a crude drawing of a beautiful sculpture in the sand, and yet the value was in knowing where that sculpture was. Somehow he could sense that, for his purposes, terrain would become vitally important. It was like the different parts of a shield. Some areas were best for countering the blows of an enemy, while others could be used to great advantage when striking out.
He tore his attention from the map and focused again on Regent Tsalka’s words. Words that, in all their infinite variety, he’d learned to understand!
“Singapore will surely fall, if it has not already, and my own province, my very own Ceylon, my beloved India, will be next on the list of the prey!”
“You must stop thinking of them as prey, lord. That is essential!” General Esshk scolded-quite harshly, Halik thought. “They are no longer even Worthy Prey, as we began to suspect, but have become hunters themselves, in their own right! Hunters perhaps as cunning as ourselves who fight in a new, unexpected way! Hunters like we have never met or faced before!”
“Yes, yes,” Tsalka hissed angrily. “I know your views on this. Perhaps you are even right. But what are we to do? Though we argued for it, it destroys me to concede my very home!”
“We must,” said the strange creature Halik knew as General of the Sea Kurokawa. “But we must do it slowly. As slowly as we can possibly manage. We will lose territory, yes, but we have much of that. Time is what we lack. If we can trade land for time, and balance the exchange in our favor, the magical weapons I am preparing will be ready before the enemy-they are the enemy, my friends!-before the enemy can push beyond the frontier into what you consider your ancient Sacred Land! The invaders will not sully the pure realm of the Celestial Mother herself! If a few regencies or frontier territories must be strategically sacrificed to prevent that, that is what must be done! We will reconquer them!”
Halik understood that it revolted Tsalka and Esshk when Kurokawa called them “my friends,” but he wasn’t sure why. He did know Kurokawa was growing in favor with Her just now. The miraculous weapons he’d begun utterly delighted the Celestial Mother, and she was even beginning to appreciate his strategies. Still, he knew Tsalka in particular thought Kurokawa took too many liberties.
“Enough debate, My Lord Tsalka.” Esshk hissed. “She has decided-and in favor of our arguments, for now,” he added ironically. “Would you try to change Her mind?” Tsalka said nothing in reply. “Well, then,” Esshk growled, “that still leaves us with the issue of how we will trade land for time.”
Kurokawa’s gaze slowly shifted to Halik. “That is a question perhaps best asked of our newest general, is it not? You yourself said he survived the entertainment battles far longer than any before him. He is not old, but he is not young anymore either. He could not have prevailed so long on strength and ferocity alone. My few Rikusentai, or naval landing forces, that survived the loss of my ship think he has much promise. Look! Even now he studies us, evaluates us, considers… and no doubt forms opinions! I think he is learning that map by heart!” Kurokawa paused, and when he spoke again, he addressed Halik directly.
“Tell us, General, based on the map before you, how would you trade land for time? The enemy will come, and for now, we cannot stop him. How would you slow him down and bleed him white?”
Even to Rebecca, who had little experience with such things, it hadn’t really been much of a storm, but it had been a challenge for an open boat on the wide expanse of the Eastern Sea. After two weeks of diminishing stores, sunburn, and increasingly doubtful navigation, the sudden storm afflicted nearly everyone, particularly the Imperials, with a sense of near hopelessness. Lelaa ignored them as much as possible. She was still confident that if Yap-or Tagran-was where the chart showed it to be, they’d find it.
Whatever she felt inside, Sandra remained a diminutive pillar of strength and steady authority. Her skin was red and peeling and her hair was bleached to a platinum blond, but by force of will alone she managed to maintain discipline and keep Rajendra and his men at work. Sister Audry took solace in her faith and remained stoic, if not cheerful, and set a further example for the men. Dennis Silva, as always, seemed unconcerned about anything. He was the only one among them, with the possible exception of Rajendra, who didn’t even seem sunburned. His tanned skin only grew darker and his beard and unusually long hair became almost white.
Rebecca herself maintained an unwavering faith in Sandra Tucker-and Dennis Silva. She did worry about Lawrence and Abel, who, along with the Imperial engineer, suffered cruelly from the heat. Lawrence wasn’t accustomed to being in the sun all day without recourse to shade, and Abel was still troubled by his wound.
The Imperials did as Sandra said, but they weren’t happy. They feared they were doomed and they hated Dennis. Rebecca watched him become the focus of much of their misery and frustration. He’d destroyed their ship and killed their shipmates, and regardless of their current situation, that was something they all had in common. The reason he’d done it, and even the very reason they’d taken to the boat in the first place, became a blurred and distant memory. Slowly, through the long, miserable days and endless, terrifying nights when strange creatures bumped the boat or distant leviathans blew, it all became Silva’s fault.
Outwardly, Silva didn’t care. Rebecca considered it possible he even deliberately encouraged their animosity to keep them focused on anything but giving up. In reality, she suspected he was more deeply troubled by what he’d done than he’d ever admit. At least, she rather hoped so. Then the storm came.
Proper navigation became impossible, but Lelaa and ultimately Rajendra steered the boat as best they could, following a heading they adjusted constantly based on their calculations of leeway and current. It was an imperfect solution, but by working so closely together they at least temporarily made a sort of peace between them. For four days they fought the storm, reefing the sail to a mere sliver of canvas and shouldering through long, westerly swells. Then the wind shifted out of the south and they scudded along, pitching horribly on the confused, tumultuous sea. It had been Silva, standing in the bow of the boat, inundated by spray, who saw the breakers ahead.
It was probably the swell that saved them. That, and Silva’s almost earsplitting bellow of, “Drop the sail right goddamn now if you want to live!” Without thought, his order was obeyed, and the boat rode a mountainous wave right over the worst of the shoals. They still struck something, probably coral, that tore a terrible gash in the bottom of the boat. It almost br
oke the keel, but the boat carried on, quickly filling, until the wave deposited them upon a sandy beach.
Leaping in the surf right along with Silva, Sandra ordered everyone who could move out of the boat. They used each new wave to help them heave their burden farther up the beach. Finally, they could go no farther and they collapsed in the sand. After a while, Sandra roused everyone and had all their stores and weapons taken near the edge of the trees, where the waves shouldn’t reach. Then, before she would allow anyone another rest, Sandra ordered that the lightened boat be moved farther from the water as well, and secured to a tree by a stout cable. Only then did everyone collapse again, utterly exhausted, and sleep until the light of day.
Rebecca woke to the sound of surf. Her eyes didn’t want to open and seemed glued shut with some sort of crust. She wiped them with her hand and grainy particles fell away. She tried again and this time she could see.
“Mornin’, sunshine!” Silva said, and grinned at her. He was sitting cross-legged in the sand with his huge rifle across his lap. On a piece of canvas beside him lay the disassembled parts of his pistol. His cutlass was thrust into the sand nearby.
“Good morning,” Rebecca replied. She felt disoriented. She was on dry land at last, but it still seemed to be moving under her. She also wasn’t where she remembered being, lying in the sand beside the boat. She was under the shade of a large, strange tree and covered with a scratchy blanket. Beyond the shade, she saw that the storm was entirely over and bright sunshine played upon a much moderated, sparkling sea.
“I hurt everywhere,” she complained, sitting up.
“Course you do. You been cooped up in a little room for weeks, then sittin’ on yer butt in a boat. Takes a while to get the muscles all loosened up again.”
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