He looked away from Jenks, back at the dwindling fight. There were cheers now. Cheers of survival, pride, and relief. Cheers for Captain Reddy too. “Besides, to answer the last question you never asked: no. Deep down, I don’t want them to stop. Not after Baalkpan. Not after all I’ve lost.”
A meanie galloped up. Well, “galloped” wasn’t exactly the right word, but it was blowing hard through flared nostrils and would likely have been panting if its jaws weren’t cinched tightly shut. It stared malevolently around. “Cap-i-taan Reddy,” cried the Manilo cavalryman from its back. “General Rolak’s most fervent compliments and affection! He begs to inform you that when they made their charge, another, smaller Grik force was assembling on his flank. He had no choice but to ignore it when this show kicked off. Since it did not attack his rear as he advanced, he fears it may have wind of the blocking force to the west.” The courier motioned toward where the clouds were growing positively malignant. As before, when Matt had seen a growing Strakka, black tendrils had begun to radiate from the dark, brooding core.
Matt looked at Jenks. “After seeing this, are you sure you don’t want to urge Mr. Blair to consider General Maraan’s suggestions a little more carefully?”
Jenks eyed the semidomesticated beast the rider sat upon. “Is there room up there for me?” he demanded.
“Of course.”
Jenks turned to Matt. “Thank you indeed for a most . . . illuminating experience. I believe I would like to . . . strongly counsel Lieutenant Blair to do just that. By your leave, Captain Reddy?”
Battle for Singapore
CHAPTER 19
The mood in Donaghey’s wardroom was mixed that night. The island of Singapore was theirs, essentially, and almost without exception, all the objectives outlined in the plan had been achieved. Casualties were light, considering the relative sizes of the forces involved, and that was reason enough for most of the commanders to feel proud of and comfortable with the victory.
Lieutenant Blair was anything but comfortable. Not only did he suffer from a painful wound across his ribs, but his losses had not been light at all. Jenks and the Manilo courier astride the meanie had arrived at the left-flank blocking force too late to counsel, cajole, or issue orders, and in contrast to the other leaders present, Blair stared at the bulkhead with a stricken, opium-slacked expression.
His Imperial Marines had stood bravely in the face of the Grik tide that swarmed across them. The two aimed volleys of musket fire they’d managed had forced the charging Grik into Safir Maraan’s shield wall, but meeting that immovable object, they’d swarmed back around it—and over the left flank “secured” by Blair’s Marines. Caught in the process of reloading, and helpless in the face of an enemy the likes of which they’d never faced, the Imperial Marines either broke or were slaughtered where they stood. It was a horrifying thing to see, Safir later confessed to Matt, and she was as furious over the senseless waste of Blair’s Marines as she was over the utterly avoidable losses her own flank had suffered before she could pull it back. In her practical, slightly blood-thirsty way, she’d insisted that Blair be hanged.
He wouldn’t be, of course. Matt secretly suspected Jenks had far more control over Blair’s tactics than he’d confessed, and the Marine Lieutenant had probably just been following orders: orders not to integrate his force with the Lemurians or take their orders under any circumstances. Jenks’s own horror over the aftermath and his hesitation to censure Blair confirmed as much. If Blair could recover from watching half his men shredded before his eyes, he might be a better officer for it.
Otherwise, all the major port facilities had been secured and the remaining Grik driven into the jungle. Chack’s 2nd Marines had joined with Alden’s 1st, and together the two regiments stormed the stockade where the Japanese prisoners were held. They were just in time, too. Apparently, some final order had been issued by the now dead (by suicide, as usual) Hij commander that none of the Japanese be taken alive. More than a dozen of the thirty-odd advisor/prisoners had already been killed before the Marines slaughtered their captor/allies. With Matt’s permission, the Bosun had accompanied the effort in case his Thompson was needed, and to his reported incredulity, one of the Japanese prisoners actually killed himself when he realized that Americans were among their rescuers! The rest of the Japs seemed appropriately grateful for their rescue, after witnessing their comrades die and recognizing their own ultimate fate.
The wardroom heaved and the gimbaled lanterns cast eerie shadows. The leading edge of the Strakka was upon them at last, having waited until the battle was over before descending in all its savage fury. The army still ashore had taken cover as best it could, mostly in the newly constructed Grik warehouses along the dock. Some pickets were still out, and the meanie-mounted Manilos were scouring the jungle for any large Grik concentrations they’d missed. Most reports had any semicohesive groups heading north. No one knew if there was any kind of causeway connecting this Singapore with the Malay Peninsula or not, but one way or another, the overriding imperative of the Grik survivors seemed to be escape. Even the enemy force that broke through on the left was reportedly moving north now, in disarray.
Matt was guardedly optimistic. They’d know more when the storm passed and the weather cleared, but the 2nd Allied Expeditionary Force seemed to have won the first purely offensive battle of the war. They’d engaged in an ambitious multipronged amphibious assault against territory the enemy knew better than they did, and utterly crushed that enemy on his own ground. It was a heady moment and an auspicious beginning to the complex strategic plan he, Adar, Keje, and Alden had initially conceived.
Matt was speaking to Rolak. Unlike Pete, who’d remained ashore, the old warrior wasn’t too proud to retreat to the comforts of a warm, dry bed. “Too proud” probably wasn’t the best way to put it, Matt decided, seeing the signs of fatigue the day had left on his friend. “Too practical not to,” was probably the better choice of words. Chack remained ashore in his stead. The ship tossed on the suddenly malicious sea, jerking up short as her carefully laid anchors kept her in place. The wind screamed through the rigging and was even audible in the wardroom, over the pounding rain that lashed the skylight. It was a hell of a storm, Matt thought, but the Allied ships and their rich haul of prizes rode relatively easily in the protected harbor. It was a slow-moving Strakka, and any ship caught on the open ocean would have been in for it. In spades.
“What now?” Jenks asked. He’d come out to Donaghey with Matt before the storm struck with all its fury. He was essentially stranded aboard until the sea calmed enough for him to return to Achilles.
“Now we wait,” Matt replied. “Clancy’s been transmitting our action report to Baalkpan, but in this weather, who knows if they’ll get anything. He said he’s picked up pieces of a reply, but can’t make any sense out of it.” Matt shrugged. “Not only are we trying to transmit a message through terrible atmospheric conditions, but we can’t run the wind generator in weather like this, so he can’t even boost the gain on the output. Cheesy, primitive batteries are all we have.”
“ ‘Cheesy’ to you, perhaps, but exciting technology to me, I assure you!”
Sean O’Casey suddenly burst into the compartment, waving a wet message form in his hand. His face was hard, enraged, and newly damp dried blood was running down his face like reconstituted tomato soup. Clancy trailed close behind. He looked a little apologetic, but overall his expression was much like O’Casey’s.
“Ye must read this, Captain; read it now! Proof at last o’ the heinous Empire that creature serves!” He was addressing Matt but his murderous glare was fixed on Jenks.
Matt was momentarily taken aback, but Jenks could only goggle at the one-armed apparition who’d appeared in their midst. Recognition spread across his face and it reddened with discovery and outrage.
“You!” Jenks shouted. “By all that’s holy, how . . . ! That you should be here!” He turned to Matt. “Captain Reddy, I demand an explanation! This man is a
wanted criminal—never mind the missing arm; I would recognize him anywhere! He is a traitor, sir, and his appearance here not only confirms it, but for him to appear now, after all these months, is sufficient proof to me that you knew he was wanted and yet kept the knowledge of his presence from me!”
“Ye demand!” O’Casey almost choked. “Captain Reddy, I demand that . . . monster be clapped in irons, his ship seized, an’ he be hoisted kickin’ to the end of a yard on the first sunny morn’ we’re granted! Of all the perfidious, lyin’, spyin’, goats o’ the world! I hope ye choke all the day long afore ye gasp yer last!”
“As I said,” continued Jenks, his tone ominous, “Mr. Bates is a wanted man. He is a traitor to his emperor and has risen in arms against him and his lawful subjects! I demand that you arrest him at once, or there will be consequences!”
“This is my ship,” Greg Garrett suddenly exploded, “and I demand somebody tell me what the hell’s going on here!”
“Yeah,” Matt said angrily. “Let’s all find out, shall we? What are you even doing here, O’Casey? You were supposed to be on Dowden!”
“He was ashore for the fighting today, Captain,” Rolak answered. “Chack brought him and said you had told him to ‘let O’Casey entertain himself,’ or some such. He came aboard here with me.”
Matt groaned. “Commodore Jenks,” he said, “I was and am aware Mr. O’Casey—or Bates, as you seem to know him—is a fugitive from your government, but he’s also the man most responsible for the survival of Princess Rebecca. He lost his arm in the act of saving her, and it was he and some of our submariners who protected and cared for her long before you ever came to call. I’m personally convinced he’s not a traitor to your emperor or his household, although other . . . elements within your government might not agree. Ask the princess yourself for her opinion of the man!”
“Aye, that’s the problem, Captain Reddy, the blackguard cannae do any such thing!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Matt demanded. In answer, O’Casey held forth the message form.
“I been trying to clean it up, Skipper,” Clancy supplied. “It just didn’t make any sense! Finally, O’Casey here comes in the shack wanting to check on things back home. He used to do that now and then when he was here. . . . Anyway, we went over it again and again. There’s no mistake!” Clancy glared at Jenks.
Matt took the page after a final glare around the wardroom, and looked at the words.
TO ALL MEMBERS OF THE SECOND ALLIED EXPEDITIONARY FORCE X FROM ADAR COTGA X GREETINGS AND CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR NOBLE VICTORY OVER THE EVIL FOE X THE GRATITUDE OF YOUR PEOPLE AND YOUR RACE KNOWS NO BOUNDS X AS CHAIRMAN OF THE GRAND ALLIANCE PLEASE ACCEPT MY MOST HUMBLE APPRECIATION FOR YOUR VALOR AND SACRIFICE X YOUR SLAIN AND WOUNDED ARE IN MY PRAYERS X END MESSAGE
ADDENDUM:
EYES ONLY M PREDDY CINCAF X DISTRIBUTE FOLLOWING AS YOU SEE FIT X AT APPROX 0230 THIS DAY CMDR BILLINGSLY AND IMPERIAL FRIGATE HIS COMMAND
COMMENCED OFFENSIVE OPERATIONS AGAINST BAALKPAN—THE UNITED STATES NAVY—THE GRAND ALLIANCE X SEVENTEEN ALLIED PERSONNEL KILLED IN DIRECT ACTION AND BY DELIBERATE DESTRUCTION OF BAALKPAN HARBOR READY FUEL RESERVE X APPARENT MOTIVE FOR ASSAULT IS ABDUCTION OF PRINCESS REBECCA X REGRET TO INFORM THIS OBJECTIVE ACHIEVED X ALSO PROFOUNDLY REGRET TO INFORM THAT OTHER HOSTAGES TAKEN INCLUDE MINISTER OF MEDICINE SANDRA TUCKER—SISTER AUDRY—ABEL COOK—DENNIS SILVA—TAGRANESI LAWRENCE X SILVA AND COOK BOTH WOUNDED CONDITION UNKNOWN X UNABLE TO MOUNT IMMEDIATE EFFECTUAL PURSUIT DUE TO DESTRUCTION FUEL RESERVE AND THREATS AGAINST HOSTAGES X COURSE ENEMY SHIP AJAX 050 CONSTANT CONFIRMED BY AIR X REQUEST DIRECT ORDER BEN MALLORY CEASE INCREASINGLY EXTENDED OBSERVATION FLIGHTS X CANNOT EXPRESS DEPTH OF SHAME X ADAR X END TRANSMISSION
For a long moment, Matt could say nothing. The expression on his face must have told something of the nature of the tale, however, because the shouts and accusations in the wardroom ceased entirely and the only sounds came from the groaning hull, the confused sea, and the moaning storm outside. A rage as pure and hot and black as boiling pitch roiled up inside him as he reread the stilted words. They’d taken Sandra! That was all that registered at first. That maniac Billingsly had taken the one thing he truly cared about on this entire, mixed-up planet! No, that wasn’t completely true. He cared about many things; he cared about their friends and the work they’d started here. He cared about the war and defeating the Grik so their friends and works might thrive. He cared about Rebecca, Sister Audry, Abel, and even Silva . . . but almost from the beginning, it had always been Sandra who gave him the strength and will to continue in the face of . . . anything. With her love, understanding, and healing way, she’d been the one who brought him back from the brink of despair when he lost his ship. She’d tended his battered, bleeding soul and restored it to something that could care again despite the horrors and agonies it had seen and endured. He couldn’t lose her! She had become his life! When all was said and done, ultimately, she was why he carried on. As God is my witness , he swore fervently to himself, I’ll have you back, Sandra! And those who have done this, no matter who they are or where it takes me, are going to pay!
He flung the sheet at Jenks, who picked it up and started to read. Matt waited a moment longer until he was sure he could control his voice. “Mr. Clancy,” he said at last, “write this down.” His tone was calm, but iron hard. Clancy fumbled through his notebook until he found a blank page and poised his pencil. “From Matt Reddy, et cetera, to Adar, et cetera. No shame. Even the best hunter can step on a viper.” He paused to decide if the analogy was appropriate. Oddly, there were no snakes on Borneo that they knew of. There were deadly poisonous lizards however, and he’d heard them translated and referred to as vipers before—once in reference to Jenks himself, come to think of it. He nodded and continued, thinking hard as he spoke. “I want tankers sent out today from the new refinery at Tarakan Island. Use every available ship. We’re going to start stockpiling fuel on Mindanao at Saan-Kakja’s brother’s place. Lots of it. We’ll probably leapfrog it east of there as well. Meanwhile, if the Baalkpan tank batteries can’t be repaired, we’ll start a reserve at the refinery dock up the river, if we have to. I don’t care if we have to fill Grik hulks with the stuff. We took enough ships today to make up any supply issues that might arise.” He paused and Jenks tried to speak. “Shut up,” Matt said, and turned back to Clancy.
“No matter what, we still have to keep the pressure up out here. Baalkpan is to redouble its efforts to get all the steamers, troops, supplies—everything—to Singapore as fast as possible. Keje’s got to step on it too. We need Big Sal and her planes to scout if nothing else. Finally”—he paused again and took a deep breath—“if Spanky honestly doesn’t think Walker will be ready to steam ten thousand miles and fight a battle within thirty days, I want all work on her suspended. We don’t have the time to waste resources on her.”
Everyone in the compartment was flabbergasted. Most still had no idea what had occurred, but if Matt was willing to write Walker off, it must have been something . . . astonishing. Sensing Captain Reddy’s sudden hostility toward the Imperial, Garrett snatched the message form from him.
“General Rolak? I want Chack and a company of the Second Marines,” Matt said.
Rolak glanced at the hull and, by implication, the storm outside.
“Now, lord?”
“Right now.” He looked at Clancy. “As soon as we’re finished here, anyway. Signal ’em to be ready, if you can.” Glancing at Garrett, he saw the rage and astonishment begin to spread across his face. “I love the old Donaghey, but she’s helpless right now,” he said, still talking to Clancy. “Signal Mr. Ellis on Dowden and have her come alongside as close as he dares. Somebody wake up the Bosun and assemble the Captain’s Guard. When Dowden arrives, we’re going across. We’ll try to swoop in close to the dock and pick up Chack’s Marines.”
“What are we going to do about this, Skipper?” Garrett demanded.
Matt’s gaze finally fell on Jenks.
“First, we’re going to take that bastard’s ship.”
There was an uproar then, with everyone grabbing for the message form and shouting for explanations.
“Enough!” Matt bellowed, and when there was silence, he calmly summed up the situation.
Sensing his position was precarious at best, Jenks cleared his throat. “Captain Reddy, may I speak now?”
“Knock yourself out.”
“Captain . . .” Jenks’s hand encompassed all present. “Gentlemen, I assure you that none of you is more shocked and horrified by this outrage than I. I swear before God that Commander Billingsly has acted not only independently of, but utterly against my direct orders!” He faced Captain Reddy. “Think upon it, sir! We were upon that field together today! Think upon what we discussed! Think of the blood that was shed by my countrymen! I accept that it may have been shed foolishly, and that is for me to bear, but it is no less precious or sacred for all my pride! Upon that blood I swear I am sincere!”
O’Casey balled his single fist and took a step forward. “Sincere, are ye? How sincere were ye when ye crushed me effort tae destroy the likes o’ Billingsly long ago?”
“You took up arms against the throne!” Jenks shouted. “What was I to do? I fancy we were friends once, you and I. The governor-emperor himself called you friend! He tried—I tried to make you see reason, to seek accommodation, but no! It has always been all or nothing with you! We could have pushed the Company back, reined it in, but you had to have it all; you wanted it dead! Instead, by your actions, your rebellion, you won sympathy for their cause! It was you who gave them a majority in both courts and marginalized the governor-emperor to near impotence! It is you, ultimately, who has brought us to this!”
O’Casey took another step, but instead of striking Jenks, he suddenly seemed to deflate. It was as if years of self-righteous anger and purpose just drained away and left nothing in its wake. Nothing but a man. He began to sob. “Oh, ye divil, ye prob’ly have the right o’ it!” he managed through his tears. “God damn me fer a fool! An’ now the very beast I’d hoped ta slay has our sweet princess! God damn me!”
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