Crusade

by Taylor Anderson

  “Captain!” cried Reynolds. “Lookout reports Amagi has opened fire!”

  “I saw it!” Matt answered. “Right full—” He stopped. “Belay that! Keep your rudder amidships! Maintain current heading!” Walker couldn’t make any evasive maneuvers at all. Not while she had Nerracca in tow.

  “My God,” Dowden muttered. “We’re a sitting duck!”

  Matt turned to him. “Mr. Dowden. I believe your action station is the auxiliary conn, aft. Why don’t you get there as quickly as you can?”

  “Aye, aye, Captain! Sorry!” Dowden muttered, and without another word, he bolted for the ladder. Before he even reached it, eight enormous waterspouts marched across the sea, the closest about fifteen hundred yards off the port quarter. The impacts were widely spaced, across a square mile of ocean. They must be near Amagi’s maximum range.

  Matt turned to the talker, judging the wind. “Make smoke! Signal Nerracca; no lights at all!” Another enemy salvo rained down, a little closer than the first but no less scattered. Thick columns of black smoke gushed from Walker’s stacks and drifted northward, toward the enemy. The light was failing fast, but what little there was would be right on Walker and Nerracca. The smoke might help a little, but all by herself, there was no way the old destroyer could pump out enough to cover something the size of a small island. He hollered up at Garrett on the fire-control platform. “What’s it look like ahead?” Matt could no longer see any Grik ships other than those that were afire. Unlike the ones that invested Aryaal, these were not lit from stem to stern with lanterns. “Do you think we can get clear if we cease firing? Our gun flashes will give them a target.”

  “No, sir,” Garrett replied. “There’s a couple more of the bastards that might get close. If they throw a firebomb on us or Nerracca, the Jap’ll really have a target!”

  “Very well. Try not to shoot unless you have to, though.” He glanced aft. Even through the smoke and the darkness, the massive white sails of the Home seemed painfully bright. Another salvo from Amagi lit the night. A few moments later he watched as the bright underwater flashes sent more geysers into the air. The pressure of the explosions pounded his ears and seemed to suck the air from his lungs. Closer still, and they weren’t using armor-piercing shells this time. They wouldn’t need them; high explosive would be far more devastating. He looked down and caught a glimpse of Queen Maraan, Bradford, and Sandra on the weather deck looking up at him. Sandra must have been trying to keep the other two out from underfoot. Otherwise, he imagined she’d be on the bridge. Suddenly he realized he wanted her there. “Come on up!” he shouted over the roar of the blower. “Just stay on the wing, if you please.” The three quickly scrambled up the ladder and stood beside him.

  “Well done, Captain!” Courtney cried, grasping his hand and shaking it. “You’ve been giving those lizards quite a thrashing! And those Jappos are just killing fish!”

  “I would never have believed the power of the Jaap’s guns, if I hadn’t seen it for myself!” Safir Maraan breathed. “Are we safe from them here?”

  Another salvo rumbled in. This time they were going to be close. Even over the sound of the blower, the heavy, ripping-canvas sound could be heard. The majority of the salvo sent spume into the air less than a hundred yards to port. One was inside of thirty and the terrible force of the blast sent heavy pieces of shrapnel crashing into the side of the ship as a high-pitched shriek rent the air. One went ridiculously long and exploded without effect two hundred yards off Walker’s starboard quarter.

  One hit Nerracca in the port bow at the base of the forward tower and tripod mast. It detonated with a tremendous explosion and a roiling ball of flame. Splinters and shell fragments rained into the sea for hundreds of yards and splintered wood sprayed the destroyer. Wood, and pieces of God knew how many refugees. The queen held her hand over her open mouth in a very human gesture of horror and Courtney Bradford clasped her protectively to his side. Matt realized he’d done the same with Sandra and he immediately released her and spun back inside the wheelhouse.

  “Damage report!” he demanded.

  A few moments later Reynolds recited the litany. “Minor flooding in the aft engine room! Half a dozen holes in the port side, anywhere from the size of a quarter to one that looks like a boot. Only a couple are on the waterline and they think they can get them plugged pretty quick.” Reynolds listened for a moment. “The number four torpedo mount looks like Swiss cheese and one of the ’Cats bought it. Three wounded are on their way to the wardroom.” Matt looked out where Sandra had been standing, but she was already gone. The salvo buzzer rang and the numbers one and two guns fired almost simultaneously at a pair of Grik ships that were edging too close. The express-train rumble of another Japanese salvo neared and Matt dashed back onto the bridgewing. Mountainous splashes straddled Nerracca and one erupted near Walker’s fantail but evidently didn’t explode. Sheets of water cascaded down on the men on the aft deckhouse and the crew of number four. Another explosion on Nerracca lit the night not far from where the first one hit. The enormous forward sail began to burn.

  “All ahead flank!” Matt yelled. The bridge watch exchanged nervous looks, but the order was relayed. Walker’s stern crouched even lower and the thrashing wake threatened to swamp the fantail. If Walker hadn’t been constrained, she would have been kicking up a rooster tail six feet over the stern. The terrible vibration they’d almost gotten used to suddenly tripled, and the old destroyer wheezed in agony as she loyally strained to do what was asked of her.

  “Captain!” Reynolds called, “Lieutenant McFarlane says we don’t have the fuel for this—to make it to Baalkpan—even if she doesn’t tear her guts out. His words, sir.”

  “We don’t have to do this all the way to Baalkpan! We just have to get away from that!” Another forest of splashes appeared close by the struggling ships. Nerracca’s forward sail was fully engulfed now. Flaming debris and clouds of sparks drifted downwind. Some fell on Walker’s deck and men and Lemurians scurried about, kicking the burning fragments over the side. Even over all the noise and turmoil, a great, high-pitched, moaning wail arose from the stricken Home as the suffering and terror there passed endurance.

  Chief Gray appeared on the port bridgewing. He cast a fixed, stony glance where Bradford was trying to console the weeping queen. The sight of Safir Maraan—usually so stoic and strong—in such a state almost broke his resolve. But he steeled himself for what he had to do and stepped before the captain. “It’s no use, Skipper,” he said quietly.

  “No!” Matt snarled, just as quiet but from within a furious rage. “We can’t leave them here! There’s thousands . . . !” Suddenly, his mind’s eye saw a bright, sunny day with high, drifting clouds overhead—and Exeter ’s barnacle-encrusted bottom rolling toward the sky while shells fell on the men struggling in the water. Then, all over again, it was Encounter ’s turn, and he watched as the gallant British destroyer disappeared under a marching haze of foam. At last there was Pope, mortally wounded and low by the stern while the white-painted buzzards with red spots on their wings circled overhead. Pope, like all the others, was in Walker’s wake, but Walker wasn’t the one who’d left her. It was Matt who had done that. Finally, in the midst of all this horror, the nightmare he could never remember came to his waking eyes. He knew it was the thing that had driven him all this time to save all that he could. It pushed him to crusade against the Grik and it fueled his hatred of them once he came to know what they were. They were the physical personification, in this twisted alien place, of the remorselessly inhuman juggernaut that had hounded Walker here in the first place. The Grik had become the Japanese. And now Amagi, the arch-villain of the nightmares that tortured his sleep, had chased them into hell itself to finally finish the job.

  His eyes had taken on a cold inner light when he refocused them on the Chief and spoke in a soft, but almost manically precise tone. “We Are Not Leaving Anyone Else Behind.” Gray took a step back. Even given the situation, he was surprised by the
captain’s intensity. Matt’s eyes still didn’t leave him. Finally he called over his shoulder. “Speed?”

  “We almost had eleven knots there for a minute, Skipper, but now we’re down to nine—and falling.” Another salvo plummeted down and multiple explosions convulsed Nerracca. Her forward tripod teetered and fell, taking with it much of the pagoda tower it straddled. Fire was spreading toward the center sail. Walker shook from end to end like a giant hand had slapped her. Shell fragments rattled the amidships gun platform and the two stacks forward of it. They sounded like heavy hail on a tin roof.

  “Lieutenant McFarlane says we have to back it down, Captain!” Reynolds pleaded. His voice was almost a squeak. He was hearing constant reports now from all over the ship, detailing all the things that were breaking. And yet, right there in front of him was the captain, who seemed set on a course of action that would only redouble those reports. Reynolds was caught in the middle. He felt like he was the only person on the entire ship that was getting information from every perspective, because he wasn’t entirely sure the captain was even listening anymore. He was terrified. Regardless, he dutifully passed the rest of Spanky’s urgent message. “He says pressure’s dropping on the number four boiler. He thinks the feed-water pump is crapping out. He also thinks that last near miss might’ve shaken something loose inside it.”

  “We’re down to six knots!” shouted Norman Kutas, who was monitoring their speed. In addition to losing a third of her own propulsion, Nerracca was getting heavier as tons of seawater poured inside her through gaping holes and opened seams. As tough as the Homes of the People were, they were never designed to absorb the type of punishment Amagi was inflicting.

  For a long, torturous moment, Matt said nothing. He just continued to stare at Gray with a look of inexorable determination. The salvo buzzer rang again and the number one gun fired into the night. Then . . . he blinked. It was as though the nightmare that had surged from his subconscious mind was suddenly subverted by the one he was living now.

  “Secure from flank,” he said in a subdued voice.

  “Captain!” shouted Sandison from the starboard bridgewing, “Small craft are coming alongside!” Matt raced to join him and peered over the rail. A shoal of small double-ended sailing craft, about thirty feet long, were struggling to catch up with the destroyer. Matt immediately recognized them as boats the People used to hunt the gri-kakka. Much like human whaleboats of the past, they carried the hunters close enough to strike their prey with a lance. Most Homes carried dozens of the extremely fast things and launched them from the large internal bays Matt had first seen on Big Sal. The gri-kakka boats were packed to overflowing.

  “Get boarding nets over the side!” Matt shouted. “Slow to two-thirds!”

  Immediately, as soon as the nets were rigged, boat after boat thumped alongside and terrified Lemurians swarmed up to the deck. Most were younglings.

  “What the hell are they doing?” Gray demanded.

  “They’re trying to get as many off as they can!” Matt shouted. “Get down there and start packing them in!”

  Gray was stunned. “But how many can we hold?”

  “As many as they send us! Now get your ass down there and get them below! We have to keep the ship trimmed and you’re the only one that can do it. Use all the help you need!” The Bosun dashed toward the ladder. Matt realized Queen Maraan had joined him. With her black fur and clothing she was almost invisible in the dark. Only her silver eyes and the tears matting the fur around them were visible, reflecting the light of the fire that raged aboard Nerracca. More shells shrieked down and churned the sea.

  “You risk much,” she said in a soft, sad voice.

  “I’m risking everything,” he told her truthfully. Even he realized it now. One lucky hit and Walker and everyone aboard her would be blown into quickly sinking fragments. A few would survive in the water long enough to know they were being eaten. And then Amagi and the Grik armada would continue remorselessly toward Baalkpan with little more than poor, crippled Mahan to stand in the way. Nerracca was doomed no matter what. Probably the only reason Amagi was still shooting at her was that her fires gave the Japanese gunners a target in the distant dark. There was always the chance they would hit the American destroyer. “Sometimes you just don’t have any choice.”

  The gri-kakka boats scurried back and forth, ferrying people as fast as they could while Walker still heaved on the cable. It made the transfer more difficult, but they had to remain under way to keep as much distance as possible between themselves and Amagi, as well as the approaching Grik. Also, if Nerracca went dead in the water, she would be a sitting duck and the Japanese gunners would finish her in a matter of minutes. As it was, Matt began gently altering course as radically as possible, trying to throw some errors into the enemy fire control. It was very subtle because they couldn’t do much, but the number of hits Amagi scored began to decline. Still, the shells continued to rain down and Matt had to wonder why the enemy was expending so much of their limited ordnance. Evidently, whoever was in command over there wasn’t willing to risk any possibility that his prey would escape. Even temporarily.

  Another nearby salvo tossed Walker like a cork. So far, she’d taken no direct hits, but the damage from near misses and shell fragments was becoming critical. The wardroom was filling with wounded but, miraculously, no more of her crew had been killed. That luck didn’t extend to the refugees. Almost a dozen had been scythed down on Walker ’s deck, and many more died when two of the gri-kakka boats were pulverized by a direct hit alongside. Refugees filled Walker’s lower decks and every crevice and compartment was packed to overflowing. Even the sweltering engineering spaces were full of panting Lemurians and the air was filled with a desolate, terrified keening sound and the smell of soggy fur and voided bowels.

  “Keep packing them in,” Matt ordered the Bosun when he came to report.

  “It’s turning into hell down there, Captain,” Gray replied.

  Matt nodded grimly. “Just put them wherever you can. It sure beats the alternative.”

  Gray nodded. “If they fill up the main deck, she’ll capsize,” he warned. “We’re already so low in the water with all the extra weight that we’re taking water through holes above the waterline. Damage control can’t even get to them with all the bodies down there.”

  “I know. Are the pumps keeping up?”

  “So far—” Gray was interrupted by the bark of the number three gun. The Grik were closing on them now and all guns were in local control, firing at nearby targets of opportunity. The sea to port was scattered with burning hulks. Amagi had slipped aft somewhat, until now she was off Nerracca’s port quarter. She was closing, though, since their own speed had diminished so much. She had advanced through most of the Grik that accompanied her until, by the flashes of her guns, they saw few lizard ships remaining between them. Most of the main Grik force had caught the favorable wind and were closing on the port bow. Matt realized bitterly that if it hadn’t been for those early hits, their scheme to pull the Home clear of danger would probably have worked.

  Both the ships were heavier now. Behind them Matt saw that Nerracca was horrifyingly low in the water. All of her masts and sails were aflame, as was virtually everything on or above her main deck from stem to stern. The only people escaping now came from the bays low on her hull. Even that couldn’t last much longer. Soon they would be underwater.

  “Four knots!” Kutas yelled shrilly over the roar of the tortured blower and the rattling cacophony of the exhausted ship. Several falling shells struck Nerracca simultaneously and rocked the hulk with what seemed like a single massive detonation. One shell went long and exploded just off Walker’s starboard bow. Matt, Safir, and Bernie Sandison were all knocked off their feet by the concussion, and fragments sleeted into the side of the bridge and the splinter shield on the number one gun. Leo Davis went sprawling and two of the Lemurian loaders were swept away.

  Then, as those on the bridge gained their feet, t
hey were hurled backward against the chart house and Walker erupted forward like a racehorse from the gate. Matt staggered up, climbing the conduits on the bulkhead. Reynolds was down, but conscious, and he was scrambling to put his headset back on. His helmet was nowhere to be seen.

  “Report!”

  “The cable parted!” Reynolds cried.

  “Did it burn through?”

  “No, sir. Mr. Dowden says it was cut! One of those whaleboats of theirs did it!”

  Matt’s shoulders sagged. “Come about. Right full rudder. Get me the crow’s nest.”

  “Chack’s on the line, Captain.”

  “Ask him how many boats are in the water with people in them.” There was a momentary pause while Walker churned back toward the burning Home.

  “Chack says the one that cut the cable is the only one under way. All the others have unloaded and been cast adrift.”

  “Rudder amidships. Slow to one-third,” Matt ordered the helmsman. “We’ll pick up the people in that last boat.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  The final gri-kakka boat came alongside while Matt stared ahead at the burning, wallowing wreck. Nerracca was so low in the water now that there was no way anyone else could have escaped through her launch bays. Whoever cut the cable must have been on the last boat out. He had no idea how many Lemurians Walker had taken aboard, but surely there were still thousands left behind, trapped between the inferno above and the rising water below.

  “All aboard, Captain,” Reynolds reported quietly. “They’ve jettisoned the boat and are securing the nets now.” The darkness to the south-southwest lit up again with another mighty salvo. The bastards were still shooting at Nerracca!

  “Helm, make your course one six zero, all ahead full,” Matt ordered.