The cheering grew frenzied when the flag of the Second Marines resolved itself in the flickering gloom beyond the raging torrent of Grik.
“It’s Shinya! Shinya!” came a gleeful shout at Alden’s side. He turned and saw Alan Letts actually jumping up and down and waving his arms in the air. His hat was gone and his red hair was plastered to his scalp with blood and sweat. Mueer from the pilothouse. And so it was there, on Walker ’s bridge, that Matt played tag with the devil.
With the loss of the foremast, the radio was out, and Clancy had been ordered to remove it and place it in the whaleboat-the only boat left. The launch was a shattered wreck, and the other launch never returned from searching for survivors of the PBY. Of course, they’d been steaming at high speed ever since it left. Maybe it was still out there somewhere, vainly trying to catch them.
An intermittent pounding, metallic drumming, came from the front of the pilothouse where bullets struck, but the enemy fire had begun to slacken. Matt saw Spanky crawling across the strakes from the ladders. He was bleeding and seemed disoriented. Matt risked a peek out the window to make sure their position relative to Amagi was unchanged. His hat had been snatched off his head during a recent similar check. “Are you all right?” he shouted.
McFarlane shook his head. “I’m shot, God damn it. How’re you?”
The captain almost laughed. “Nothing, would you believe it?” A throbbing pain resurfaced. “Busted nose, a few scratches,” he amended. “How’s she holding up?”
“The bow’s a sieve, and she’s down four feet by the head. I just came from there. A Jap bullet came through the goddamn hull and got me in the goddamn ass! Everybody’s out of the aft fireroom but the Mice, and they’re in water up to their shins. If we don’t head for shore right damn now, the fish’ll get us all!”
Matt nodded, but at the same time he knew he couldn’t give up. Amagi might be finished- Walker certainly was-but as long as the battle cruiser was afloat, she was a threat. He couldn’t break off before the task was done-not as long as they had a single shell for the number one gun. It had to end here, now. If Amagi got away and somehow survived, Baalkpan would never survive her eventual return. Worse than that, the sacrifice of all those who’d died and suffered this long day and night would have been for nothing.
“Soon,” Matt promised. “We’ll break off soon.”
“God damn it! Why won’t that unholy bitch just sink?!” Silva raged into the night. He could barely see through the blood clouding his vision, and he suspected his left eye was ruined. A swarm of paint chips and bullet fragments were the cause. Even so, he could tell Amagi was listing twenty-five or thirty degrees-but that was where it stopped. Low in the water and creeping along at barely five knots, the Jap was still underway and entering the center of the channel. He’d thrown shell after shell into her stern, and there’d been no visible effect other than a growing, gaping hole in her fantail. Now, no matter how hard they searched, the runners who’d been bringing him shells couldn’t find any more.
Machine-gun bullets still rattled off the splinter shield, but only a few. It was as if the Japanese sailors knew Walker had done her worst, and had nothing left to throw at them. They were going to get away.
“Mr. Silva!” came a cry behind him, and he whirled in shock. Thvis“What the hell are you doing here?” he choked. “Goddamn, there’s bullets and bombs… and we’re fixin’ to sink! Get your stupid asses under cover, for crissakes!”
Rebecca looked at her companion. “Well, Lawrence, clearly we’re not wanted, and apparently they don’t need this as badly as we thought-with everyone running around looking for them!” It was only then that Silva realized the small girl and large, but still sore lizard were struggling with a heavy, four-inch-fifty shell suspended between them.
Torn, he glanced at the retreating battle cruiser. For the moment the incoming fire had stopped completely. Maybe the enemy gunner was out of ammunition-or he’d simply given up. “Shit!” he groaned disgustedly. “Gimme that; then get the hell outta here!” He sprinted across the blood-slick deck to meet them. “Let me guess: Lieutenant Tucker still thinks you’re with O’Casey and vicey-versey?”
“I tried to sto’ her,” Lawrence announced virtuously, but the girl only grinned.
“My safety is still primarily your responsibility, Mr. Silva. I have no control over assumptions others might make,” Rebecca stated sternly. “Besides, whether they like it or not, or even know it, my people must be represented in this fight!”
“Skipper’s gonna kill me,” Silva muttered with absolute certainty, taking the shell in his massive hands. He noticed with a sinking feeling that it was high-explosive. “Here,” he said, resignedly, handing it to the loader, “let’s make it count!” He glared back at the girl. “I’ve pulled some stupid stunts, but this… at least get behind the splinter shield!”
Rebecca’s grin faded. “Your eye!”
“Just a scratch.” Silva turned to Pack Rat, the Lemurian pointer. “Well? Quit screwin’ around, and let ’em have it!”
“You gonna aim for us?” Pack Rat cried sarcastically. His gunners were all Lemurians, too short to look through the sight and push the trigger pedal too. They could elevate and traverse if he guided them, though. He was positive just a few more rounds would finish Amagi, but they just didn’t have them. A single HE shell wouldn’t make much difference.
“Yeah, if somebody’ll load the goddamn thing!” he growled disgustedly. It was then that he saw his trainer was down. “Hey… Lawrence! Get your stripey ass on the training wheel!”
Lawrence’s jaw went slack. “Trainer? I?”
“Yeah, trainer, you! Step on it!”
The breech slammed shut, and Silva squinted with his good eye through the telescopic sight mounted on the left side of the gun. Only the smallest part of his consciousness even noticed when a tiny hand squirmed its way into his clenched, bloody fist.
“Port a little,” he crooned, “port… port… Good! Up, up. .. Good. Shit! Stop when I say ‘good,’ damn you! Down… Good!” He stepped aside. “Fire!” Pack Rat stomped on the pedal. The gun barked and recoiled backward, but Silva was watching the tracer. It struck right in the middle gun
“A hit!” Rebecca cried excitedly.
“Woop-te-do. Might as well throw hand grenades at the bastard,” Silva explained dejectedly. “Well, that’s that,” he said, squeezing Rebecca’s hand before letting it go. Suddenly he hurt all over, and he was sick inside as well. “Beat feet back to the pilothouse. There’s no sense standing around and getting shot if we ain’t got no more bullets! I’ll tell the captain we’re dry.” He started to turn.
“Silva, look!” Pack Rat shouted. Dennis did. Amagi was suddenly leaning a little farther to port and veering hard right.
“What the hell?” he murmured. “Maybe we hit her steering engine or something?” Whether that was the case, or Amagi had simply tired of the dog yapping at her heels and decided to present her remaining broadside of secondary guns and destroy the nuisance that tasked her, Silva had no idea. He knew the latter would be the result, however, and Walker heeled as the captain saw it too. Sluggishly, Walker turned hard a’port, but her grace and quickness were gone. The short delay was just enough to put her at a disadvantage, and there was nothing she could do. Silva clutched the girl to his side and braced himself for the final fusillade, while Amagi continued her sharp turn, out of the main channel, and into the prepared lane they’d left the day before. She was drawing considerably more water this time when she passed directly over the MK-6 magnetic exploder-and the cluster of depth charges it was anchored to.
The sea convulsed around her, just under the number two turret, and her entire bow heaved up upon the gigantic swelling of foam. Then a geyser of spray erupted forth and completely inundated the forward half of the ship. There was very little flash, but the sound of the blast was enormous. Amagi collapsed into the hole the charges left in the water, the sea closing over the bow before it shuddered back to
the surface like a submarine. Only now, it was… crooked… somehow. The outline of the ship had visibly changed, and even as they watched, it contorted still more. Water surged near the base of the forward superstructure, but there was red paint visible beneath her pointed bow.
“ Broke her goddamn back! ” Silva bellowed. “I knew it would work!” Pack Rat looked at him incredulously, and Rebecca threw her arms around his waist.
Captain Kurokawa was thrown against the chart table by the force of the blast. His head struck the edge, and he lay stunned for several moments. He comprehended a great roaring, surging sensation, as well as screams and urgent shouts. Amagi heaved beneath him, and the deck began to cant.
“Nooooo!”
He didn’t recognize the cry that escaped his lips. It was primordial. Staggering to his feet, he looked about. All the windows were smashed, and sparks fell like fiery rain from shorted conduits on the overhead. The flames that engulfed his ship aft boiled to unprecedented heights-then began to subside. The tilt of the deck was becoming more extreme. “No!” he shrieked again. The bridge seemed deserted of all but bodies. Those who’d left their posts would pay, he grimly swore. Then he saw movement on the blistered bridge wing. Still groggy, Kurokawa recognized the Amerit="1em" width="1em"›Great clouds of steam and smoke gushed skyward aft as the sea closed over the fires. A heavy detonation rumbled across the water, and soot and steam belched from the stack. Finally the savaged fantail disappeared from view with a tremendous, thundering gurgle of escaping air. Only then did a heartfelt cheer erupt from Walker ’s survivors.
Finally! Matt thought. His entire body felt almost rubbery with relief. My God… Finally! He closed his eyes briefly in thanks. A few Grik ships frantically tacked past the smoldering wreck, headed for the Makassar Strait. Walker had nothing left to shoot at them.
Matt looked at his watch. “Oh two five eight, Mr. Reynolds. Please record it in the log.” He looked at Gray. “Now, if only things are going okay ashore,” he said grimly, watching the fleeing ships. It was impossible to tell if they were going to reinforce the landing in the south, or just running away. He had no idea if they were winning or losing the battle on land, and all of Baalkpan seemed to burn.
“Survivors?” Gray asked with distaste, gesturing at the boats in the water and the protruding pagoda. Matt shook his head.
“They’re fine for now,” he said. “If we take time to bring them aboard, they’ll just be in the water with us. How fast can we push her without putting too much stress on the forward bulkheads, Spanky?”
McFarlane seemed distracted, concentrating. “Six knots?” he hazarded. “Faster than that and you’ll drive her under. Slower and she’ll sink before we get there. I expect you’ll try to make it to the shipyard?”
Matt nodded sadly. “That’s my hope. I’ll angle her toward shore, though, just in case she doesn’t make it.”
He looked back at Amagi ’s wreck as he spun the wheel for home. “I wish Jim could’ve seen this,” he said.
By some freakish miracle of buoyancy, Mahan ’s stern still floated. The entire forward part of the ship had been obliterated by the blast, removing the flooded weight that would have quickly pulled the rest of her down. The explosion also heaved the shattered aft section backward against the continued thrust of her single screw. The watertight integrity was completely gone, however, and the stern was filling rapidly. Escaping air shrieked through the many rents, and the deck tilted ever downward.
Jim and two ’Cats had dragged Sandison into the meager protection of the battered aft deckhouse before the huge explosion drove them to the deck. One of the ’Cats was blown over the side, but the other had been there to revive him. Still lying on the deck, Jim watched with stunned bitterness, and a profound sense of betrayal and futility, as Amagi began to steam out of the harbor in spite of her massive wound. He’d killed his ship, and who knew how many of her crew, for nothing. Then, to his bleary-eyed astonishment, he saw Walker giving chase.
He knew it was a pointless gesture, as futile as his own had been. Walker could never finish the monster with only her lonely number one gun, and clearly d already been removed by the flotilla surrounding her. Several men and ’Cats stood on the fire-control platform, and there was movement on the bridge as well. If Matt still lived, that was where he’d be. She shouldered her way through the throng for a better look, and seeing who she was, most parted and made a lane for her to pass. She didn’t notice them, but if she had, she’d have seen the deferential lowered ears and blinks of respect running through the crowd.
Walker edged into the basin and slowed to a stop less than fifty yards from the pier. The overtaxed launches tried to pull her closer, but it was clearly no use. The ship was going fast. As Sandra watched, the aft fireroom access trunk opened with a clang, and a mist of steam gushed out. A short female ’Cat crawled onto the deck, then reached back inside the opening. With a mighty heave she pulled first one, then another pale, grimy form into the light. Coughing and leaning on one another, the three quickly shuffled under the amidships deckhouse toward the ladder at the back of the bridge. As if she’d been waiting for that very event, Walker finally surrendered herself to the sea. Water crept over the fo’c’sle and coursed into the jagged hole. The rasping blower went silent, but the sound was replaced with a massive, urgent whoosh as the bow dipped lower and lower. With a juddering, grinding thump, it struck the silty bottom. There was an almost dying groan as the rest of the ship quickly settled. All that remained above water was the top of the bridge and her four battered funnels resting at a slight angle to port. Most of the flag was still visible too, jostled by the rising, turbulent froth of escaping air.
There was an audible, mournful sigh from the crowd, replaced by a frenzied cheer when a large, bloodied man above the bridge-whom Sandra recognized as Dennis Silva-gave a jaunty wave with one hand, while the other supported a small girl sitting on his shoulders. Tabby and the Mice stiffly ascended the ladder to the crowded platform, and Sandra felt her heart leap into her throat when Matt climbed wearily up from the bridge to join them. She was yelling now too, waving her arms over her head, and tears streamed down her cheeks.
Wherever she came from, there was no doubt: USS Walker, DD-163, and her lost and lonely crew had found their way home at last.
EPILOGUE
Disaster,” Tsalka hissed mournfully. “Utter and complete disaster.” The rising sun presided over the beginnings of a bright, brisk morning in the Makassar Strait, and of the almost four hundred ships comprising the Invincible Swarm, less than seventy now accompanied the Giorsh, Esshk’s flagship, as it sailed back toward Aryaal. To make matters even worse, most of those ships were empty of all but their crews, since they’d been the ones that launched the southern assault. Never in the millennia-long history of the Grik had there been such a catastrophe. Tsalka sighed. “I did not command here, but that will make little difference to the Celestial Mother. I am regent consort of this territory now, and I am responsible. Would you care to join me, General Esshk, for a final repast? I intend to destroy myself at the midday, with all proper ceremony while it is still due me. You may join me in that as well, if you like.”
Esshk leaned on the rail, his claws gouging the white-painted wood as he stared aft at the mighty plume of smoke still hovering over distant Baalkpan. He sighed as well. “I am honored, Lord Regent, but I shall not destroy myself ance in their desperate attack on the Grik rear. She’d apologized profusely for arriving so late, but Maa-ni-la was now a firm member of the Alliance, and she pledged that more troops and supplies were on the way.
Keje was using the same crutches Gray once hobbled on, shortened to fit his physique. Somehow he’d survived the almost total destruction of Big Sal ’s upper levels, and was found by a rescue party the morning after the battle still sitting on his beloved stool. When Adar tried to suggest he should be High Chief of Baalkpan, he’d refused. Big Sal was his Home. With the sophisticated Lemurian pumps, coupled with the concept of hoses they
’d learned from the Americans, he was sure she’d float again. For now he was content to recuperate, aided by the diligent attention of his daughter.
Shinya, Brister, Flynn, and Alden were there, as were Alan and Karen Letts. Letts’s quick thinking in sending out rescue craft had undoubtedly saved most of Walker ’s crew. Not only had they taken her people off, they’d helped get the ship into shallow water. The happy addition of Mahan ’s and Walker’s launches-once the survivors were transferred-aided in that considerably, and Jim Ellis and Frankie Steele piloted the launch-turned-tugboats throughout.
To everyone’s surprise, Walker ’s launch had actually rescued most of the PBY’s crew. Ben Mallory, Jis-Tikkar, and one of the gunners were found clinging precariously on one of the leaking wing floats. Somehow they’d survived the crash and escaped the sinking wreckage. Most of the flashies had been drawn to other parts of the bay. Tikker was in the hospital, but Mallory was, miraculously, uninjured. Sometimes it was like that. A pilot might break his neck when his parachute opened, or crawl out of a catastrophic crash.
Her Highness Rebecca Anne McDonald, princess of the Empire of the New Britain Isles, still wore battered dungarees, fuming at Silva’s behavior and the fact she was now virtually a prisoner of Sandra Tucker and Sean O’Casey. Lawrence and Silva had recounted her exploits during the battle, and if she and her strange Grik-like friend were now heroes of Baalkpan (and represented a possible end to the dame famine to the Americans), they were also never allowed to go anywhere without a particularly attentive escort. Most knew of her status now-such a secret was impossible to keep for long-and it was considered just a matter of time before Jenks and his squadron arrived. Jenks would be disappointed. She intended that her people and her new friends should become allies against the Grik, and though she wanted to go home, she’d already proclaimed that she’d do so only if Captain Reddy took her himself.
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