“Dumb ass. Give the kid a ship and what does he do?” He shook his head. “Mr. Shinya, get a platoon of Marines into the boats and pull for Felts. Those Grik bastards draw more water and they’ll be aground too, I expect, but they’ll send boarders. I doubt they’ll fool with us while they’ve got the ship right in front of them. We have to keep them off her at all costs.”
Shinya saluted. “Very well.” He looked at the commander of First Platoon. “With me.”
The sun hadn’t been up long, but the battle had raged since before dawn. With their amazing eyesight, Lemurians could see fine in the dark, where apparently their enemy couldn’t. The Grik had no “taboos” or anything against fighting at night, but they weren’t very good at it. The local ’Cats preferred not to either, for religious reasons. Therefore, aside from his huge numerical superiority, it must’ve never even occurred to the Grik commander he might be in danger even as he slept. The sight of the enemy army asleep, totally off guard, was too much of a temptation, and Pete kicked off the attack ahead of schedule.
The killing had been almost wanton, and those that survived the initial onslaught broke and ran in all directions. Pursuit was unthinkable, though, and Alden gathered his force and withdrew to his secondary position. The enemy reacted quickly, sending reinforcements against the thrust. Like most highly specialized predators, however, Grik seemed to key on motion even in the daylight, so they were completely surprised again when they ran right into Haakar-Faask’s force that Pete’s had retired behind.
Savaged again by the stalwart B’mbaadan general, the Grik reeled back in the direction of their own lines. That was when Alden’s rested troops struck them again on the flank. It appeared this element of the Grik advance, at least, was shattered beyond reclamation.
Alden wiped his bayonet on his pants leg and snapped it back on his rifle. Taking another long drink, keen eyes glancing all around, he spit and began thumbing slender .30-06 rounds back into his empty magazine. He was already out of stripper clips, and had only the dozen or so loose rounds in his pocket.
“All right,” he said, closing the bolt, “let’s pull back. Easy does it; don’t get split up in the woods. We’ll re-form with General Faask, and see what kind of hornet’s nest we’ve stirred up. Stretcher bearers, get our wounded out of here.”
The wounded would be carried back to the “reserve” commanded by the Orphan Queen, whose primary responsibility was guarding the younglings and noncombatants.
He glanced at the sun, now clear of the treetops overhead. “It’s gonna be a long day.”
“So this is your ‘surprise’ for the mountain fish,” Keje observed.
“One of them,” Matt confirmed. “At least, I hope so. Took Sonarman Brooks long enough to get it working again, even though we had all the parts.” He shrugged. “We just never saw any point in it at first. It’s meant to find submarines underwater, and we had no reason to suspect we’d need it against any of those. I’ve heard active sonar playsumbsed sedately on a calm, gently rolling sea. They saw nothing in the north and when they turned south it looked like more of the same at first: dense, impenetrable jungle growing right down to and beyond the shore, by means of a mangrove-type root system. It was unlike anything Matt had ever seen on such a large and isolated island, and always, in the distance, a large volcano loomed menacingly from the jungle mists enshrouding its flanks. Jets of smoke or steam curled from vents in its side. Eventually they began to notice irregularities in the shoreline, and they slowed to a crawl so they could glass them more carefully. Still, no true inlet was apparent, or even a beach. There was no sign of life at all, in fact, besides the ever-present, swooping, defecating birds. Even Courtney began losing interest by the time the sun edged toward the horizon.
“I say, Captain Reddy, shouldn’t we speed up? Hurry along, as it were? Surely the eastern side of the island is more hospitable and, well, easier to land upon.”
“We can’t know that, and we’re only looking once. If we ‘speed up’ we might miss something. It’ll soon be dark anyway, and we’ll have to anchor. I want to do it in the shallowest water possible, and right now there’s less water under our keel than we’ up’ we mid become a palpable thing, and every day they remained away added an exponential layer of anxiety. Even Bradford seemed resigned when Matt told him that unless they saw some evidence of the submarine, there’d be no excursion ashore.
“Anchor’s aweigh, Captain,” Dowden reported quietly in response to the shrill call of the bosun’s pipe on the foc’s’le. Matt nodded. He’d been wondering how ’Cats could toot on a bosun’s pipe when they couldn’t make a sound with a bugle. They’d learned at the Battle of Aryaal that they needed something like bugle calls to pass commands on the battlefield. Maybe they could adapt something like a giant bosun’s call. Use whistles or something? He shook his head. He’d have to ask someone. All he could make a bugle do was fart.
“Very well. All ahead slow; make your course zero seven five. Extra lookouts to port.”
When they rounded the island’s southern tip and headed north, they began to discover beaches. Visibility was excellent, and the rising sun penetrated the shadows of the suddenly less dense forest, and they caught glimpses of a few animals here and there. Most, beach scavengers probably, scampered quickly under cover at the sight of them, but one creature the size and shape of a rhino-pig, but with a powerful neck as long as its body and a head like a moose—with tusks—stared insolently at them as they passed. It occasionally even rushed the surf, as if warning them away.
“Oh! You’re a nasty fellow, aren’t you!” Courtney giggled happily. “Oof! Oof! Orrrrr!” There were chuckles in the pilothouse, and Matt stifled a grin.
By late morning the distant humps of the small islands to the northeast appeared through the haze, and everyone knew they were about out of luck. There’d been a couple of promising lagoons, but they turned out to be little more than crescents eroded into the island by the marching sea, and they could see clearly to their termination. Another such lagoon, or the point at the mouth of one, was coming up, and all were grimly certain it was their final chance. They’d almost reached the point where they’d initially turned west.
“Captain,” called Reynolds, “lookout reports this one’s deeper than the others. Maybe better protected.”
“Very well. We’ll stick our nose in and take a look. Pass the word for the lead line. Dead slow when we round the point, consistent with the current, of course.”
They passed the point and Walker slowed, Norman Kutas inching the big wheel ever so slightly to bring the bow around. The long swells pushed them toward the cove, and a series of constant adjustments were required.
“It is a deep inlet,” Reynolds confirmed, passing the lookout’s observations. “Surf’s a little gentler inside.”
“What’s our depth?” Matt asked.
“Seven fathoms, coming up fast.”
Reynolds looked up, eyes wide, and holding his earphone tight against his head as if not sure he’d heard correctly. “Uh, Captain, lookout says—I mean reports . . . there’s something on the beach, high on the beach, twenty degrees off the starboard bow. It looks sort of like the pic but theyts became desolate sobs.
“Listen . . . girlie . . . I ain’t gonna hurt you none—nobody is—but you gotta leave off whuppin’ on me, see? It ain’t polite.”
Courtney Bradford shook off the shock of the moment and raised a restraining hand to Chack’s Marines. Keje and Adar weren’t laughing. They’d instantly realized the possible significance of their discovery.
“Chack!” Keje rumbled. “If you cannot control yourself, or your Maareens, I will do it for you!” Keje might no longer be Chack’s personal High Chief, but the young Lemurian still respected him tremendously. Chastened, he and the three Marines sobered.
Bradford knelt down. “There, there, child. Please do compose yourself,” he said gently. The small girl was filthy, and dressed in rags. Clearly she’d suffered a terrible ordeal. Perha
ps she was unhinged. What else might motivate her to attack Silva that way?
“Yeah,” Silva grated as softly as he could. “If you’ll cut it out, I’ll turn you loose.” The grimy, tear-streaked face nodded, and Dennis let her go. Instantly she scrambled to her feet, and bolted toward the Grik on the ground. Silva jumped up, snagging his rifle. “Shit, girlie,” he yelled, “are you nuts? The damn thing might still be alive!”
“I certainly hope he is, for your sake, you vicious, murdering villain!” the girl shouted back. Unable to shoot even if it was, with the girl in the way, Silva ran after her. So did the others. When they arrived at her side they were in for another shock. The girl had collapsed, sobbing, beside the writhing Grik. It moaned piteously and she stroked it with the utmost tenderness.
“Lawrence!” she cried tearfully. “Oh, Lawrence, you mustn’t die!”
The evil jaws opened slightly, and a long, purplish tongue moved inside them. “Hurts!” it said. The humans and Lemurians looked on, stunned.
“It spoke!” jibbered Bradford.
“Of course he spoke, you silly man! This is Lawrence,” she snarled, “my friend!” Looking up, she seemed to notice for the first time that they weren’t all humans, and her eyes went wide again, but with something besides rage. “My God!” she said, hushed. “You are not all people!”
Adar hesitantly stepped forward and bowed to the girl. If he was affected by the bizarre irony, he managed to conceal it. That must have taken considerable effort, since few loathed the Grik as much as he. “I am Adar, High Sky Priest of Salissa Home, and currently Steward of the Faith to the various members of the alliance under the Banner of the Trees. We are indeed ‘people,’ just a little different. Where we come from, creatures such as your ‘Lawrence’ are vicious predators, intent on exterminating us. Our Amer-i-caan friends have explained their concept of ‘pets,’ however, and though I consider it foolhardy and . . . astonishing . . . you have chosen such as this as your own, I . . .” He started to say he was sorry, but simply couldn’t manage it. “We would not have harmed it had we known,” he concluded gently, but with little conviction.
“Lawrence isn’t my pet, you furry imbecile! He’s my friend!”
“There’s old . . . tales of folk such as ye,” he admitted to Adar, “an’ our founders did pass through yer seas.”
“I knew it!” Adar exulted. “As soon as I saw the youngling! There is so much about our early history we can learn from you! So many missing pieces of the puzzle! Where did you ultimately go?”
“East,” he said vaguely. They knew that already. “Some islands. I’ll tell ye what I can, but ye must respect the fact that I know as little of ye as ye know of me. I may tell ye more as me knowledge of yer intentions . . . an’ capabilities grows.”
“Fair enough,” Matt conceded. “You can come with us, but I’ll expect further revelations.” He noticed that Silva’s attention had been diverted, and saw the “nannies” climbing aboard one of the boats with the remaining children. He’d spoken to them briefly. One was British but the others were Dutch. All spoke English, as did the nun. The children were about half Dutch and half English, with a young Australian boy thrown in. Dennis had pronounced one of the nannies an “old frump,” but the others were young. One was even attractive, as was the young nun. She’d managed to keep her habit fairly well preserved, even her bizarre hat. The women doubled the number of human females they knew about—not counting the children—and even the “frumpy” one would probably be the object of more attention than she’d ever known. He shook his head. He’d have to speak to them again.
The whaleboat was coming back, its coxswain really laying on the coal. It smashed through the marching rollers, throwing spray, until it gained the calmer water and accelerated to the beach. Clancy leaped out and hurried to him, a message form in his hand. He looked a little green after his wild ride, but his expression was grim and purposeful.
“Captain!” he said urgently. “We picked up a faint transmission in the clear! You need to see it right away!”
A tendril of dread crept down Matt’s spine as he took the sheet. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said, walking a few paces away.
THESE SPACES FOR COMM OFFICE ONLY
“Goddamn it!” Matt swore. He looked at Silva. “Tell Lieutenant McFarlane our scavenger hunt’s over. He’s to be in the next boat back to the ship, and I want number three lit off.”
“What’s up, Skipper?”
“We’re out of time.”
“Hurry up, damn it!” Ellis shouted as half his surviving, exhausted Marines streamed back through the open ranks of the other half. Close on their heels came whickering arrows and a roaring tide of Grik. They’d foughleaped out>Dowden, Campeti, and Walker’s other officers were waiting when Matt and the last of the shore party came aboard, already laying plans. The sun lay on the horizon, and the long day was nearly spent. Menacing clouds roiled in the east, and the rollers had a distinct chop. All except O’Casey saluted the colors, but no time was wasted on ceremony. Many of the crew stood watching, wide-eyed.
“. . . I think we’ve got the fuel for it, but . . .” Spanky continued, joining Matt on deck. He looked around at the many faces and stopped. Swearing, he shook his head and disappeared down the companionway, bellowing for Laney. Matt’s eyes found Dowden’s.
“Plot a least-distance, least-time course for Baalkpan, via Tarakan. Consult Spanky and determine our best speed, without getting home completely dry. We might show up in the middle of a battle. Have Clancy transmit ‘on our way, Walker’ over and over. Standard code. Maybe they can hear us, even if we can’t hear them.”
O’Casey was staring around at the ship, as curious about it as about the sudden activity. He’d been offended when they took his antique weapon away, and resisted giving it up—until Silva and Stites had “insisted.” Stites had discovered several more muskets at the castaways’ camp, and, never one to abandon any weapon, he’d brought them along. O’Casey wasn’t overawed by the ship, exactly, but he did seem amazed. And envious. He stiffened when he heard the word “battle,” however. Silva was watching him at the time, and noticed the reaction.
“Aye, aye, sir,” Dowden answered. “Uh, Captain, I’ve taken the liberty of putting the children and their chaperones in the chief’s berthing spaces, and moving the chiefs to available officers and enlisted berths, based on seniority. I’ve also begun entering S-19’s survivors in the books. We’ll have to see who fits where best; they’re not destroyermen, after all.”
“Of course.” Matt knew when Dowden was beating around a bush. It was his job to sort out everything he’d reported, and unnecessary for him to report it. “What else?”
“Well, sorry, Skipper, but there’s two things, actually. First, the girl with the pet Grik won’t berth with the other kids. Says she’ll only berth with Mr. O’Casey here, and she won’t leave the damn lizard till we have a look at him and promise not to hurt him.”
Matt looked at Bradford, still puffing from his climb. “Go have a look. You’re our expert on Grik anatomy. Have Jamie give you a hand.” He paused. “Silva?”
“Skipper?”
“Go with him. Damn thing may be tame as a puppy, but if it even looks cross-eyed, blow its head off.”
“Aye, aye, sir!”
Silva and Bradford clambered down the metal stairs.
“I will accompany them,” Adar proclaimed. “I am curious about this ‘tame’ Grik, but I would get to know the youngling better.”
Matt nodded. “Me too. See what you can find out.” He looked back at Dowden. “What else?”
“Well, Skipper, it’s the nun. Says they all aate being rescued, but she’d like to speak with you again. She hopes . . . you won’t be so ‘rude’ next time.”
“Rude?”
Dowden shrugged, and Matt rolled his eyes.
“Maybe later. Chack?”
“Sir?”
“Assemble your sea and anchor detail, and prepare to pull the hook. We’re
getting underway.”
“Aye, aye, Cap-i-taan.”
All that remained were Keje, and Walker’s officers. Captain Reddy turned to O’Casey.
“We’re about to leave your island resort behind, and I’ve made good on my part of the deal. We’re all going to the pilothouse now. Things are going to be busy while we get underway, but as soon as I have a free moment, you’ll be standing right there, ready to pay your passage. I have some questions and you’re going to answer them.”
“Very well, Captain. I’ve a few questions of me own, if ye please. Ye say we might be headed fer a battle. Might I ask who you expect to fight?”
Ignoring O’Casey, Matt turned and strode purposely toward the bridge, leaving his surprised entourage hurrying to catch up. Taking the steps two at a time, he arrived in the pilothouse, preceded by his own shouted, “As you were!” Facing the startled OOD, he announced: “I have the deck and the conn. Make all preparations for getting underway.” He looked speculatively back at O’Casey, as the one-armed man reached the top of the stairs.
Maelstrom Page 14