Duncan hesitated. “You’re quite sincere, Captain Garrett,” he observed, astonished. “But I fail to understand how a single ship can manage that. You yourself destroyed a similar ship with two elderly, outmoded frigates, if I recall. No offense, sir!” he hastily added. “It was quite a feat, I’m sure. But that only proves my point.”
Greg looked over at Smitty Smith, his gunnery officer, and rolled his eyes. Smitty was slowly chewing a soggy cigar, but his face remained impassive. Greg’s Lemurian XO, Mak-Araa, blinked consternation. “With all due respect, sir,” Greg spoke into the microphone, “you just don’t get it. Sure, we killed Atúnez, but we did it by surprise, at pistol shot, and she was a sitting duck.”
“I knew our success would come back and bite us on the ass someday,” Smitty grumped aside to Mak.
Greg glared at him. “Admiral,” he continued, “Leopardo’s bigger, faster, and twice as powerful as Atúnez. And she’s hunting us. We’re the sitting ducks.” He sighed. “Sir,” he pleaded, “you just haven’t seen. You can’t possibly know what she’s capable of, and I’m begging you to trust me.”
There was a longer pause this time. “Captain Garrett, I won’t leave our forces ashore unsupported. Even if all you say is true, I’d be drummed out of the service.”
Greg’s heart sank.
“What I will do,” Admiral Duncan continued, “is scatter the bulk of the fleet. Commodore Semmes will arrange a suitable rendezvous. I’ll remain here with . . .” He considered. “Six ships of the line. They should be more than sufficient to deal with a single ship, no matter how advanced.” Greg began to protest again, but Duncan cut him off. “If they’re not, you’ll have been proven right, Commodore Semmes will assume command of the fleet, and I’ll be dead. Not sure I want to live in a world where one ship’s equal to half a dozen of our best,” he mused darkly. Greg started to point out that his crews might disagree, but knew it was pointless.
“Thank you sir, and good luck” was all he said. Turning to Mak, he told him, “Signal Commodore Semmes. Tell him the admiral’s ordered the fleet to scatter. I’d recommend he send it generally east-northeast, and west-northwest, but the ships need to get out of sight of each other as fast as they can. And don’t stop for any they might see in distress. They’ll just turn into targets too.”
“Any suggestions for the rendezvous?” Mak asked.
Greg rubbed his scalp and shook his head. “We already knew the League had picked a side,” he growled, “but now the murdering bastards are in the open. With Leopardo on the loose, and God knows what else, no place in the Caribbean’ll be safe.” He shrugged. “Suggest we rendezvous back at Santiago. Leopardo can’t do much to the guys ashore; she’ll be afraid to deplete her ammo too much, I bet. And she can’t just park here either. We’ll figure a way to get transports in with food and ammo. Maybe at night. But the time’s finally come when Captain Reddy—or somebody—is gonna have to send us some goddamn help.”
Donaghey dashed northeast that night through a rising sea, stopping just long enough to take Fred and Kari and their tired Nancy aboard. The weather was worsening and that was tricky, but everyone had plenty of experience at it now. They never saw Leopardo and, better yet, she didn’t spot Donaghey. But it was a somber crew indeed that watched the bright, distant flashes light the southwest horizon for a little more than forty minutes. When the flashes faded, there was only a dull red gleam against the gathering clouds to mark the flaming graves of ships. Kari and Donaghey’s signal-’Cats tried to contact Admiral Duncan on Old Zack far into the night, but there was no response.
CHAPTER 48
////// USS Walker
On the Zambezi by the Palace of Vanished Gods
Allied-Occupied Old Sofesshk
March 19, 1945
Matt Reddy stood on USS Walker’s main deck behind the bridge, staring out at the Palace of Vanished Gods and the ruined city beyond. Dennis Silva was beside him, all cleaned up, but wearing enough bandages to cover nearly every inch of skin that would otherwise be exposed. He spoke to Pam occasionally, pointing out things ashore, but mainly he was just there to be by his skipper, as he’d been since that final, crazy fight. Matt didn’t know what Pam thought of that, but at least she had him with her for a while. He shook his head and wondered how they’d work through what came next.
All the bodies had been cleared and great pyres burned on the relatively compact battlefield in front of the entrance to the palace, still surrounded by elements of II Corps. First Colonel Jash’s Slasher Division—the best translation they’d come up with—was in a large encampment on the northeast outskirts of the city. It was still under arms, but all its ammunition had been collected. And Jash was being watched by more of Safir Maraan’s troops brought up to join their comrades by the Repub monitors and Colonel Will’s transports from where they’d fallen back to secure the old perimeter after the breakout battle.
Safir wasn’t here, of course, and neither was Chack. Jumbo Fisher’s Clippers had been coming and going constantly, flying the worst wounded out to Salissa, Madraas, Tarakaan Island, and Sular. Shipping them past holdout shore batteries in fragile transports wasn’t a good idea, though Gray and Ellie, and most of their Nancys, were working their way back downriver to clear them out. The Repub monitors stayed to guard against anything approaching from upriver.
Old Sofesshk isn’t all ruined, Matt supposed, and Courtney’ll have a ball figuring out the most ancient architecture someday, whether it was built by Grik or somebody earlier that they ran off. Matt looked fondly at the Australian general, in the fine Republic officer’s uniform someone loaned him, talking animatedly with Muln Rolak about that very possibility. Despite the uniform, it was still Courtney, complete with the sombrero he was fanning himself with and Krag rifle supported by a sling.
Walker was crowded amidships, ferrying a large sampling of Allied officers across from the wasteland of New Sofesshk to meet the Celestial Mother. General Kim, Inquisitor Choon, General Taal, and Optio Meek would be the first to represent the Republic, though more would soon follow. And Matt guessed Courtney and Bekiaa were Repubs too, in a way. Pete had stayed with his army, following Colonel Saachic as he chased Second General Ign west, but generals Rolak, Faan, and Mu-Tai were here, along with a small escort from the Triple I sent by General Taa-leen. Captain McIntyre was the senior Impie now, Matt remembered sadly, but he was already ashore. He and Major Cook were doing their best to patch Chack’s Brigade back together. Neither begrudged their commander’s departure with his wounded mate.
Major I’joorka, here for the Khonashi in addition to being a new Regent Champion, and Hij Geerki had come in on a Clipper. I’joorka was still weak and would bear his burn scars forever, but he assured Matt he was up for this. Lawrence was introducing him and Geerki to the Celestial Mother now—and warning them about her “powers.” Matt suspected Geerki was having the time of his life. He’d been one of the lowest-ranking Hij in the empire, and now he’d help teach the couple thousand ancient Hij who’d finally emerged—and the Celestial Mother herself—how to be “good critchers.”
Colonel Will and Lieutenant Colonel Durai represented the Maroons and Shee-ree, and a couple of wide-eyed La-laantis were even present. Matt thought it important that somebody from every Allied power actually see the Celestial Mother in Allied hands, and the only ones he could think of that weren’t represented at all were the NUS—but they’d never fought the Grik, anyway.
He was glad to meet General Kim at last, and see so many familiar faces. Some, like Courtney and Bekiaa, even Choon, he hadn’t seen in a very long time. But the absence of many more, not even lost, who ought to be here—like Keje, Tassanna, Pete, Alan Letts, even Rebecca Anne McDonald—left him feeling glum. And of course he missed his wife. She’d really earned the right to enjoy this victory. The win was incomplete, of course, but still significant; something to give them hope. And Sandra could probably use some hope right now
.
Matt had finally been informed that she was having their child, but the delivery had been very difficult and prolonged. Every radio inquiry he made was answered with “She’s doing fine; just having a tough time. Quite normal when it’s your first.” But Matt was growing increasingly concerned and irritable. “Just how long do these things take?” he’d unreasonably demanded of Ed Palmer at one point. He’d immediately apologized to the young signal officer but remained unhappy and embarrassed by his outburst. Then, of course, news from elsewhere and other fronts began to filter in. Some was cause for satisfaction, and he passed that along, but some gave him even more to worry about, all while the exhausting battle his wife was waging kept a crushing, breathless, racing feeling in his chest and made it difficult to concentrate.
“What’s that?” a smiling Courtney Bradford asked, pointing at a folded message form Matt was tapping against the bulwark. Several others, including Rolak, Kim, Choon, and Bekiaa, were with him. “More good news, I hope? Bloody marvelous about the Pass of Fire!” He chuckled. “Old Shinya! Never thought he’d be so useful or accomplish so much when we fished him from the water like a drowned rat!”
Matt looked at the paper and shook his head. “It’s from Shinya, but it isn’t so good. A report from Fred and Kari.”
Courtney frowned, knowing Matt would tell them what it said in his own time, but then he brightened. “Fascinating rumor about Esshk, though,” he enthused. “No one quite seems to know where he is, just ‘up north’ somewhere. Possibly around a place called Lake Galk. I’ve heard it described as something like the Western Great Rift Valley, only filled with enough water to be considered an inland sea!”
“Quite faascinating,” Rolak grumbled ironically, “since it’s more thaan rumor, and the same sources indicate he still commaands a very laarge force of New Aarmy troops.” He looked at Matt. “Speaking of surprising usefulness, Hij Geerki continues to impress me with his initiaative. Not only did he supply laborers from his former Uul at Grik City to help build Caamp Simy and Arracca Field, but he also provided a number of traanslators and spies he’s appaarently been training. I took the liberty of sending severaal to join Gener-aal Aalden. They’ve already proven useful—”
“Indeed,” Courtney interrupted. “I spoke to one myself, and word is already rampant that as soon as news from here reached Esshk, he grandly, publicly proclaimed himself Supreme Regent with absolute authority—granted by the Celestial Mother herself, mind”—he chuckled again—“to rule the entire Grik Empire in her stead. Only until he can ‘snatch her back from the claws of the invading prey and destroy us forever,’ of course,” he added sarcastically.
Rolak was nodding. “Word of his decrees spread faaster thaan the Celestial Mother’s, declaring Esshk a usurper and commaanding every regency in the empire to combine with her—and us—against him.” He sighed. “Esshk must’ve sent runners everywhere, perhaaps extending their range with airships.” He blinked significantly. “This came from straagglers following Gener-aal Ign, so Esshk clearly contaacted him. Airships again, at night I presume. In aany event, Esshk’s story might be easier for maany to aaccept thaan the Celestiaal Mother’s, since she is in our ‘claws.’”
“Lawrence doesn’t think it’ll matter much,” Matt told them, proving he’d already heard. “Sure, regencies close to wherever Esshk and his army’s at will stay loyal to him, but quite a few had already balked and didn’t trust Esshk to start with. Maybe they’ll come over to the CM now, or at worst, stay uncommitted until they see how things shake out.” He reached over and patted Rolak on the shoulder. “I think the biggest wild cards you and Pete”—he looked at Kim—“and Republic troops will have to worry about are Ign and what Halik’ll do when he gets here. We know he’s coming, but still don’t know what his intentions are. We damn sure can’t divert anything to go after him, so we just have to hope he stays neutral or the Celestial Mother can sway him. In the meantime, I’d say your best bet is to wreck Esshk before him and Halik ever meet.”
They’d drawn a crowd, and nearly everyone in the waist was gathered around as they approached the dock by the Palace of Vanished Gods. “You taalk like we’re not gonna be here, Skipper.” It was Tabby, standing with Isak and Bernie Sandison, who spoke.
Matt finally raised the message form and shook it. “We’re not.” He took a long breath. “Everybody knows we took the Pass of Fire from the Doms, and that’s swell. But now the League’s jumped in with both feet. That damn Leopardo shot up the Nussie’s invasion fleet after they landed their army, and it’s largely on its own hook now. Not an impossible situation by itself,” he said, shaking his head, “because the Nussies are getting some local support like Shinya did on the west coast. Covert supply runs can focus on ammunition. On top of that, Shinya will soon be on his way to join them. The problem is,” he continued bleakly, “we’d hoped to ship him there, but he’s fresh out of ships. And a fighting march might take months.” He frowned. “Which brings us to the real problem. I don’t think Gravois—it had to be Gravois on Leopardo—would have the guts to start the big dance without all his ducks lined up behind him.”
“An’ his ‘ducks’re half a dozen battlewagons, as many cruisers, an’ maybe twenty DDs,” Silva stated, matter-of-factly. Matt looked at him darkly, wondering how he knew. Silva had not been one of the people in the know. The big chief gunner’s mate just shook his head, and that disconcerting, beatific grin began to spread across his face.
“Well, yes,” Matt agreed, still irritated. “That’s about the size of it”—he looked back at Silva—“and was part of what I was about to tell you all. The other part is what it means.” He shook his head. “I spoke to Chairman Letts on the radio last night, and he’d already spoken to Governor-Empress McDonald—who’s at Respite Island now, thank God, on her way back to the New Britain Isles.” Matt looked hard at General Kim. “I even talked directly to your kaiser, Nig-Taak, for the first time. All agree we have no choice but to pull every modern ship and carrier in First Fleet, right now, and steam for the Pass of Fire as fast as we can. We have no idea what the League’s timetable is, just guesses by Fiedler and Hoffman. We might already be too late,” he added grimly.
“The Repub monitors and Des-Ron 10 will stay,” Matt assured the rising voices, “and should be sufficient to deal with anything the Grik can still throw at you on the water. We’ll also leave most of Big Sal’s and Madraas’s planes, after the hit Arracca Field took. I doubt anything like that’ll ever happen again. COFO Leedom’s already doubling the size of the perimeter around the field and will more than double the security force as fresh troops arrive.” He smiled slightly at Rolak. “And they’re coming, along with more weapons, ammo, and all the supplies you need. You won’t be forgotten here. The only thing not coming is more modern ships.”
He looked down at Walker’s deck and gently shifted his shoe on the pitted steel, as if caressing the old ship, then looked at Kim again. “As for the rest of First Fleet, your kaiser promised me the Republic would join us with some of its new ships. I hope to God it’s true, because Second Fleet has precisely one operational carrier. Two will be in the yard for who knows how long, and the rest of the fleet is finished. And while Shinya and the Nussies deal with the Doms onshore, we’re probably going to have to face the League at sea.” He blinked regret at his Lemurian crew members nearby.
“Not to diminish anyone’s service—everybody on this ship has been through nine kinds of hell. But only a few of you were with us at Baalkpan Bay when we fought Amagi. You know how . . . different that was from anything else we’ve done.” He paused. “Your newer shipmates’ll be counting on you to help them train for that—against the equivalent of maybe a dozen Amagis at once.”
The ship touched the dock and they felt the engines stop. “We’ll do our best to prepare you,” he continued. “But nobody on this world”—he glanced at Silva, Pam, Bernie, and Isak, even Courtney; they were the only old hands pres
ent (Spanky and Paddy were on the bridge)—“nobody but a very few,” he qualified, “have any idea at all what a modern surface fleet action’s like.”
“Nope,” Silva said, and grinned. “I was there—an’ we lost that one, bad. Battle o’ the Java Sea.”
Matt had to force himself not to cover his eyes with his hands. “A fine example of how we won’t fight this one,” he growled through gritted teeth.
Realizing he probably should’ve kept his mouth shut, Silva barked, “Damn straight!” then eased back behind the skipper—where Pam slugged him in the arm with her sharp middle knuckle protruding from her fist.
Matt exhaled. “My point, I guess, is I know we’re leaving you in the lurch, but I’m confident you’ll finish the job. And knowing that is why we’re free to do our best to keep the League—and Doms—out of the Pass of Fire.” He patted Rolak’s shoulder again and looked at the others. “None of this’ll matter much in the long run if we can’t. With the League and Doms together”—he looked intently around—“they’ll have the rabid numbers of the Grik, with heavier weapons than we’ve ever had. They’ll choke us off, eventually, and everything we’ve been through’ll be for nothing.”
“Damn straight,” Silva said again.
“What’s the matter with you?” Pam hissed. “You makin’ up for that stupid Petey not bein’ here?”
“I do kinda miss the little turd,” Silva whispered back. Then he grinned again. “But it looks like I’m back in the Navy for real this time, an’ no more o’ this sewer-river fightin’ either. It’s the deep blue sea again for me!”
Matt barely heard him, because just then he saw Ed Palmer standing by Tabby with one of those dreaded yellowish message forms in his hand. He groaned inwardly—until he saw the huge smile splitting the kid’s face. Quickly, he motioned him over and looked at the page.
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