Iron Gray Sea

CHAPTER 5

Respite Island

February 29, 1944

The response to USS Walker ’s return to Respite Island was notably different from when she first appeared there. The beautiful anchorage at the bright-beached foot of the fortified peak overlooking the crystalline water was packed with ships of all description, and where there’d been uncertainty and hesitant wonder the first time the destroyer appeared, now there was genuine delight at the sight of her. The guns in the high, white-walled fortress boomed in salute, the reports dull in the stiff breeze, but they were repeated by many of the anchored ships, and steam whistles whooped exuberantly. Walker fired a precise, four-gun salute salvo, symbolically emptying her guns, and sounded her shrill whistle and mournful horn in reply. The harbor pilot who’d boarded the ship beyond the dangerous reef had been brought out by the same pretty little single-masted topsail cutter that met them before, but this time its crew was grinning and talkative as it paced Walker through the channel. The pilot himself made no attempt to take the wheel or assert any control whatsoever over the unfamiliar vessel, but diligently and professionally directed them through to the anchorage. He was used to steamers, but had no notion of Walker ’s handling characteristics.

The Honorable New Britain Company had been extremely unpopular on Respite, and the Governor, a man named Radcliff, had strongly hinted that if the Empire continued down the self-destructive path the Company had been leading it, his island might have no choice but to break away. The success of Walker ’s mission to the heart of the Empire had clearly come as a great relief to the people here-yet now the Empire was at war with the Holy Dominion and had joined the Alliance against the Grik as well. Matt hadn’t been sure how they’d be received by the independent-minded Respitans, knowing their isolated island would become an important strategic nexus of contact between the two powers. They’d been willing to help before, with limited basing and fueling facilities and a powerful wireless station, but it had been understood that the Allies would leave them alone once the situation in the Empire was sorted out. Now that was out of the question, and despite cordial correspondence via that wireless facility, Matt expected some resentment. He couldn’t be more pleased by this new attitude on display.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Busbee,” he said when the pilot pronounced them free to maneuver in the anchorage. He scanned the shoreline with his binoculars, taking note of the new fueling pier and much-enlarged government dock. “You have the conn, Mr. Kutas,” he said to the badly scarred first lieutenant and former chief quartermaster. “Lay us alongside the dock first, if you please. After we’ve paid our respects, we’ll make Spanky happy and shift her over to the fueling pier.”

“Aye, aye, Captain. I have the conn,” Norman Kutas replied formally, and Matt stepped out onto the port bridgewing. Moments later, Sandra and the Bosun joined him there.

“Bashear’s assembling a side party to pipe you and the ambassador ashore, Skipper,” Gray announced, anticipating the order, and Matt smiled his appreciation. “Thanks, Boats.” He knew Gray, Silva, and Stites would accompany Sandra and him ashore, no matter what he said or how safe it was, so there was no point telling them not to. Down on the well deck he could see the ambassador’s party, including his aide and Midshipman Brassey, already waiting, peering excitedly over the solid railing there. He was surprised to see Diania, Sandra’s own dark-skinned, raven-haired steward waiting to go ashore as well. Diania had been Sandra’s first human female recruit into the American Navy. She’d found the striking but somewhat… odd woman in Maa-ni-la, but Diania was from Respite and Matt hadn’t expected her to want to go ashore. She’d never been forced into any… disreputable pursuits-she’d been a “carpentress”-but he’d still supposed she’d resist revisiting her former life of forced labor. On the contrary, she seemed even more anxious to go ashore than the others. Sandra followed Matt’s gaze.

“She still has family here-or friends she considers family.” She looked squarely at Matt with a slight grin. “She also has a kind of… evangelical air about her today,” she warned. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the Navy had a number of new recruits shortly!”

Matt exhaled an exasperated breath, but then noticed the way Gray was staring at the dusky beauty and his eyes went wide. The Bosun glanced at him, probably expecting a response to what Sandra said, and saw his expression. He actually blushed!

“Uh… that’s all we need!” Gray grumbled defensively. “More damn women aboard-no offense, Lieutenant Tucker!” Hurriedly, he excused himself and practically bolted from the pilothouse.

“Good Lord!” Matt said, astonished. “You’d almost think he was sweet on her, and he’s what-tree times her age?”

“He is sweet on her,” Sandra confirmed, looking sternly at him. “I know that look pretty well. What’s more, I think Diania’s sweet on him. She goes on a little too much about that ‘grate, beastly ogre, Mr. Gray,’” she added, slipping into a passable re-creation of the girl’s convoluted brogue. “And so what if he’s a little older than she is-”

“A little!” Matt spluttered.

“They’ve both had it rough. Diania’s been a virtual slave most of her life, with no real prospect of a decent life-not to mention a decent man. And Fitzhugh Gray lost his only son aboard Oklahoma. The only other things he’s cared about in years are this ship and you! Give him a break. I hope they do get together.”

Matt shook his head, eyes narrowing. “You haven’t been pushing that along just a little, have you?”

“What if I have?”

Matt’s full entourage, or, more properly perhaps, Ambassador Forester’s escort, included Sandra, Diania, and Lieutenant Bachman. Gray, Silva, and Stites represented the Captain’s Guard. Chack led an honor guard of six ’Cat Marines-all they had left aboard-in his immaculately turned-out Marine major persona. When aboard Walker, his Home, Chack reverted to what he considered his permanent role as a “mere” bosun’s mate who happened to be in charge of all the Marines, in spite of his growing reputation and increasingly greater status ashore.

Governor Radcliff greeted them himself, accompanied by a large, enthusiastic gathering and an… unusual little band that played an oddly familiar fanfare as Walker ’s party marched down the gangway and assembled respectfully as the music played. While he waited, Matt evaluated the Imperial Governor of Respite. He was dressed as finely as before, though Matt now knew his clothes were slightly out of date by the fashion standards of New London. He remained portly, but radiated the bloom of a less-taxed constitution and didn’t seem nearly as harried and concerned as he had during their first meeting. Matt briefly wondered if he’d come down the mountain from the governor’s mansion on the grounds of the high fortifications, riding his unassuming burro once again. When the music finally stopped, Radcliff strode, with an expression of happy anticipation, to face Matt.

“My dear Captain Reddy,” he boomed warmly, sketching a return to the salute Matt and the others offered. “Ambassador Forester!” he added, returning Forester’s bow. “You come extremely highly recommended, sir!” He straightened and addressed them all. “I can’t wait to hear your news. I am still amazed by the wonder of wireless, but nothing can substitute for words spoken by one friend to another!” He beamed. “I am so happy to see you all! Please, I would receive you more properly at my home, where we can discuss in greater comfort the heady advances you have wrought. I have taken the liberty of providing sufficient transportation.”

“Of course, Your Excellency. We’re at your service,” Matt said, then paused. “Sir, you know my other companions, but if I may present our Minister of Medicine, Lieutenant Sandra Tucker? I believe you may remember that I’ve mentioned her before.”

To Sandra’s amazement, Radcliff snatched her hand and knelt over it, brushing it with his lips.

“I am deeply honored to meet you at last, my lady!” he told her earnestly, then his smile returned. “The last time I saw this man of yours, he was prepared to raze the entire Empire to the ground if a hair on your head-or that of our own Princess Rebecca-had been harmed. I naturally assumed that you must be the beauty of the world to inspire such devotion, but now my eyes chastise my imagination for the woeful disservice it did you!”

Beneath her tan, Sandra’s face went dark red.

“You are… flattering and very charming, Your Excellency,” she somehow managed, then gave Matt a knowing glance he’d seen before that always seemed equally proud… and afraid for him. “And it seems you got to know Captain Reddy very well indeed.”

“Quite,” Radcliff replied softly, gently squeezing her hand before releasing it. He turned back to Matt, his enthusiasm reborn. “There is so much I want to tell you, I feel that I may burst!”

They sat in the shade of the vast, wraparound porch encompassing the lower floor of the governor’s residence. Moisture condensed on glasses of cool beer arrayed on a wide wicker table, surrounded by the visitors and the half-dozen advisors and members of the governor’s staff. As when he’d first visited there, Matt was struck by the glorious view beyond the sloping parade ground of the fort. To the northeast, the sky was clear and bright. Due east, a few lazy clouds lingered. South of there, a dense, dark squall lashed the sea, and wispy white tendrils of the thing extended out to either side. The road that brought them to the summit wound around the back of the mountain, giving them a slowly rising view of the lush, scenic valley where the bulk of Respite City lay. Cultivated fields surrounded the population center, and beyond them loomed the dense, dark jungle. The contrasts were so sharp, so extreme, it was as though he’d glimpsed several entirely separate worlds since leaving his ship. The impression was similar wherever he went, he supposed, but only here was it quite so profound.

Matt turned his attention to his more immediate surroundings. He was pleased to see Radcliff’s wife, Emelia, again, particularly when she took her place with the rest of them, right beside her husband. The daughters he’d met on the last occasion weren’t present and he wondered about that, but he knew Chack must be relieved. Imperial ladies couldn’t seem to resist petting his soft, brindled fur, and it mortified him. Chack wasn’t the only Lemurian there, however. They’d been joined by two others, both seemingly in a state of reverential awe toward the men and the ’Cat just returned from the east. Lieutenant Haan-Sor-Plaar commanded another new Fil-pin-built steam frigate, USS Finir-Pel, and Lieutenant Radaa-Nin was in charge of a pair of fast fleet oilers and three munitions and supply ships-all new sailing steamers, and all bound for New Scotland. Matt would get with them later and brief them on what to expect at their destination. In any event, he knew Radcliff had certainly become acquainted with many more Lemurians since they’d first met, and maybe he’d banned his daughters because he’d finally noticed the… discomfort their attentions caused his furry guests.

Interestingly, this time Matt didn’t sense the slightest resentment toward Emelia’s presence from the governor’s other advisors, and she smiled warmly at him when he caught her eye. That was new as well. Matt knew that, despite Imperial custom, Emelia had long been the governor’s most influential advisor, and she’d been as worried about the Alliance as she was about the deterioration of the Empire. He was glad to see that her concerns in that regard seemed to have been put to rest. He looked to Emelia’s right, where Sandra had taken a seat, and was surprised to see the older woman pat her hand occasionally as if to reassure her. He’d never known Sandra to need reassurance, particularly from strangers, but he’d never seen her around such an almost motherly, astute observer as Emelia before… He shook his head.

“Captain Reddy,” Governor Radcliff began, “first let me extend my most sincere condolences for the sad losses your people and your remarkable ship suffered during the recent, glorious campaigns, not to mention the terrible losses sustained on the Grik front… I saw the casualty lists, of course, when they were passed along to you, and I understand some of them constituted direct, personal losses to you and your ship. Friends and former shipmates.” He sighed. “We have never seen such a war and can hardly imagine what it must be like… I am not glad our Empire is beginning to find out, but I recognize and even embrace the necessity.” He met Matt’s gaze. “You will return home with a strong alliance with my country, for what you are doing for us, and we will help you in every way we can as well.” He straightened in his seat. “We have raised a full regiment here on Respite, for service in the west.”

“That’s very generous, Your Excellency,” Matt said softly. It was. Respite was the oldest Imperial territory, established even before the Empire existed, but the population there and on all the islands under its jurisdiction probably amounted to less than two hundred thousand.

“It only makes sense,” Radcliff said. “Wherever our people fight, it will be far from home, and with the Doms pushed back to their continental holdings, the Grik are actually closer.” He took a sip of beer, then forced a smile back on his face. “But enough of that! Congratulations are in order for many things! You have doubtless observed that the Grand Alliance is extremely popular here?”

Matt nodded. They’d ascended the mountain aboard a kind of carriage reminiscent of a San Francisco streetcar drawn by burros, and the road had been lined with enthusiastic well-wishers, quite a few of whom were women. “Indeed, Your Excellency. I’m glad to see it.”

“Take my word, Captain, the greeting is quite sincere. You accomplished everything we could have wished and more. You personally may not have saved the Princess Rebecca-and your lovely bride-to-be-but your people did. And then you avenged their abduction and mistreatment!” He leaned forward with a genuine grin. “The official version of that is colorful enough, I assure you, but I beg a firsthand account!”

“Perhaps this is not the setting or the time to press him on such a personal matter, Mr. Radcliff,” the governor’s wife gently admonished him in a mellow tone. Radcliff spared her an exasperated but indulgent glare.

“Later, then, if you please, Captain. Over dinner? Still, not only did you destroy the beastly Company’s domination of our lives and hasten the end of the inhumane institution of indenture, but you also did no less than save the Empire itself from conquest or at least dissolution. You have my most profound thanks.”

“We didn’t do it alone,” Matt said quietly.

“No, but you struck the spark and fanned the flames of liberty to life! I wish to God I had been with you! As you know, I had begun to despair, but to be there and see my emperor restored and country saved…”

“Please do save your speech for the ball, Mr. Radcliff,” Emelia chastised. “I fear you are embarrassing the good captain!”

“Embarrassing!” Radcliff huffed. “Heroes are always embarrassed. They are supposed to be.”

“Ball?” Sandra suddenly interjected with an expression close to fear on her face.

“Oh yes!” Emelia gushed, grasping both Sandra’s hands in hers. “As soon as I learned of yours and Captain Reddy’s desire to wed here-on our island! — I began planning the most glorious celebration! The romance of your… situation has resonated quite deeply with our people, and you stand as a figurehead for what all women in the Empire can achieve! The event will celebrate your wedding to the captain, of course, but it will also honor the Allied victories in the east, the resurrection of the Empire, and even what contributions our small land has made to facilitate those accomplishments. And, incidentally, as I said, I mean to stress your own achievements to inspire our people! It will be an event to rival an Imperial coronation, with repercussions that will be felt for decades, at least!”

“Oh, my God,” Sandra whispered, and Matt barely suppressed a laugh.

“I guess it isn’t your ‘ operation’ after all, Lieutenant Tucker,” he said with a straight face but a twinkle in his eye.

The discussion resumed, returning to more serious matters, and shortly, Matt dismissed the honor guard to return to the ship and whatever duties they had there. He knew Spanky meant to commence repairs as soon as possible now that the ship was at rest, and Marines were part of the deck division when aboard as far as Chack-and certainly the Bosun-were concerned. The Bosun himself, as well as Silva and Stites, remained. They may have been a little bored, but habit kept them alert and listening to the conversation. Matt didn’t mind. Chairman Adar would likely pump Silva for his impressions of the governor once he returned to Baalkpan, and that was okay with him. Adar needed as many impressions of their new allies as he could get, and he’d be able to read between the lines of Silva’s likely flippant description.

“And I am glad to see that we will have an official envoy to the western allies at last, Ambassador Forester,” Radcliff continued dryly. “It is long overdue.”

“Indeed,” Forester agreed with a chuckle. Two envoys, one from Respite and another selected by the Imperial Court of Proprietors, had already gone to Maa-ni-la. Each had adamantly opposed the presence and credentials of the other, and Saan-Kakja sent them both away in disgust. That was before the Imperial situation had stabilized, but all it accomplished was to annoy the High Chief of all the Fil-pin Lands even further, and make her more reluctant than ever to send troops and ships to defend the Empire. “I understand I may have my work cut out for me, in regard to the… charming young Saan-Kakja, at least.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Matt warned, “whatever you do, don’t let her age fool you into thinking you can push her around.”

Forester held his hands up and laughed. “Oh no! As a friend of the Governor-Emperor, I have known Princess Rebecca all her life. I’m told she and Saan-Kakja are fast friends and very much alike. I have seen firsthand that fewer years do not necessarily equate to lesser wisdom-or determination. Quite the opposite, on occasion. And I wouldn’t dream of trying to push Her Highness around! I want nothing less than Saan-Kakja’s-and Adar’s-complete satisfaction with our membership in the Alliance.”

“Good. In that case, I’d also caution you against pressing for a larger commitment in the east, from either of them. At least for now. You may not see this yet, but I believe the Grik are the most pressing enemy, and the western allies have been more generous already than anybody there-including me-is really comfortable with.”

Forester’s face turned grim. “It is difficult to understand how the situation on the Grik front could be more pressing than the menace posed by the Holy Dominion, but I am prepared to concede it. You have fought both enemies on both fronts, and I trust your judgment. But do you really believe these Grik-mere savage… reptilians-may actually surpass our own technology?”

“Maybe not surpass, Your Excellency, but they can match it-particularly with the help of the Japanese Captain Kurokawa. I honestly don’t know what motivates him-other than insanity, I guess. But he’s already brought the Grik too close for comfort, and with their numbers-and frankly, ferocity-all they need to be is close.”

“But the Dominion has vast reserves as well,” Radcliff observed, “and other than your Walker and your flying machines, there is little material difference between us.”

“True, but we’ve hammered a big chunk of their fleet, and for now, our tactics are better. The Enchanted Isles are at risk because the Dom fleet is still respectable, particularly if it concentrates, and those islands are strategically placed to support future operations against them. That’s why I agree that Harvey Jenks needs to relieve them as soon as he can, because we’re going to need them. But otherwise, the Empire and its continental colonies are secured by a vast ocean, and I’m told, impassable territory between the colonies and Dominion territory. Our navies control that ocean.

“On the other hand, the Grik industrial base may actually be broader than the Dominion’s. We know they’re building a new fleet, and when they’re ready, we expect them to hit us with something huge and likely unexpected. Kurokawa-and some of the Grik Hij-aren’t fools. They’ve already hit us with flying machines of their own-much larger and more complicated than ours, and they had a lot of them.” He shrugged. “Ours were faster and better armed. That was the difference.” He looked at Sandra, then at Chack and the other Lemurians. “Trust me. The Grik have to come first.”

“Well, then. I will not argue it with you or anyone else at present,” Forester conceded. “Your people… your friends… have been generous. I do pray your evaluation is correct, however.”

“So do I.”

A servant attired in the white coat and knee breeches of the Respite militia appeared. “Dinner, if ye please,” he announced.

Matt was too accustomed to the spartan shipboard fare to fully appreciate the sumptuous feast prepared for them. The food was just too rich. The governor and his wife ate theirs with obvious relish, but Sandra, seated beside him now, only picked at her plate. She seemed to blush every time he caught her eye, still embarrassed by the sheer scope of the spectacle Lady Emelia was planning. She’d said she expected a big wedding on Respite, but the description Emelia continued whispering to her during the meeting outside was beyond anything she’d ever imagined.

The visiting Lemurian officers were enjoying their meal, and Chack was curiously sampling a little of everything. Matt was amazed when Silva caught a server’s sleeve and ostentatiously asked if another of the chicken-size, broiled “lizardy-lookin’ guys,” might be brought out. When the server went to fetch it, Stites leaned in to Silva and muttered: “Good thing Larry ain’t here. He’d have to go hungry or turn cannibal.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time. I seen him eat lotsa critters more like his relations than these little boogers,” Dennis answered in what his damaged hearing probably thought was a whisper, then looked up, surprised by the sudden silence around the table. “Course, maybe he woulda ate the fish,” he offered.

Chack couldn’t help it and burst out in a hacking laugh, blinking apology at the same time. The other ’Cats joined him, and soon everyone was laughing, even Sandra, who’d needed something to break her tension. Matt explained about Lawrence, and the comment better understood, the laughter redoubled. When it finally died down, it was replaced by a more lively conversation.

Silva can break anything, Matt thought with amusement, even ice.

“Oh, my dear captain,” Radcliff said at last. “I wish you had brought the creature along! I simply can’t wait to meet him.”

There was a knock on the great door that led to the dining chamber, and another servant went to investigate the cause.

“We don’t consider Lawrence a ‘creature’ anymore, Your Excellency,” Matt explained mildly. “He’s a Tagranesi… well, Sa’aaran, now, and if his Grik cousins are capable of achieving his level of intelligence, we’ve got a lot to worry about.”

The servant hurried over to stand beside the governor, a frown on his face, and waited for Radcliff’s attention.

“Yes, yes. What is it, Gomez?”

The dark-skinned servant, probably a descendant of the Spanish/Indian mix in the Dominion, handed over a bifolded page sealed with wax. “Which it’s a dispatch from the Allied wireless station, Guv’ner,” he said with a typical Imperial accent. “An’ it’s marked ‘urgent,’ as ye can see. Yer orders are never ta delay d’livery o’ such.”

“Indeed, indeed,” Radcliff replied, taking the folded square. After a brief hesitation, he offered it to Matt. “It’s most likely meant for you, after all.”

“Go ahead, Your Excellency,” Matt said, but his chest tightened. It was his sad experience that urgent communications rarely carried good news.

Radcliff nodded and broke the seal, then unfolded the sheet and held it at arm’s length to better see the words. The diners around the table were silent now, watching with curiosity. Matt’s stomach churned with dread when he saw the governor’s growing frown. Without a word, Radcliff passed the message across and Matt looked at it. Sandra caught her breath when she saw the expression forming on his face as he read, and she put her hands on his shoulder. Finally, he looked up and his gaze was bleak.

“Well, it’s started in the west. Alden has invaded India and has a solid beachhead at Madras. First and Second Corps are pushing inland, and Third Corps has crossed from Ceylon in the south. So far, the Grik are on the run.” He paused and there was a spatter of applause, but Matt’s tone didn’t reflect the good news. He continued.

“A little closer at hand, it would seem Commander Sato Okada’s Mizuki Maru, the armed… freighter that Saan-Kakja sent after the Jap tin can Hidoiame, met the enemy… and was apparently lost with all hands.”

Sandra gasped and Gray cursed aloud.

“Where… when?” Chack asked.

“The Sea of Japan.” He waved the sheet. “The position’s here. ‘When’ was almost a month ago!”

“But… why wait until now to tell us?” Sandra demanded.

“Because we were too far away to do anything about it, and Saan-Kakja’s fully aware of our damage and our weapons limitations,” Matt answered bitterly. “She probably didn’t want us to push things and hoped she could handle it on her own. Three ships sent to the last known position to search for survivors didn’t return, and the only one with a transmitter reported being under attack before contact was lost. Several squadrons of ‘Nancys’ were sent to locate the enemy. One squadron actually found her and bombed her, but no damage was seen-and four of the six planes were shot down!”

“Oh, my God!” Sandra whispered, her hand over her mouth.

“Nancys,” or PB-1Bs were single-engine floatplanes that looked like miniature versions of a PBY Catalina, and they were the current backbone of the Allied air arm. More advanced aircraft were in the works, but “Nancys” had proven to be reliable and versatile little planes. Each had a crew of two.

“The only good thing, I guess,” Matt continued, “is that nobody reported seeing the destroyer’s tanker consort, and she can’t go far without her. She probably ran around for a while trying to throw us off the trail to where the tanker is-but now she’s going to have to find someplace else to hole up, and she’s got to get her tanker and maybe break down and pack up whatever shore installations they’ve spent irreplaceable resources on first!”

“That could take some time,” Gray said, scratching the stubble on his chin. They finally had razors again, and Matt wasn’t the only clean-shaven human in the Alliance anymore.

“Yes,” Chack said, “and we know where they must be!”

“ If Okada was right and they really did set up around where Sapporo ought to be… Damn, I need a chart!” Matt said. The Imperials knew almost nothing of that region. “Governor Radcliff, could I trouble you to send a runner to my ship? Or maybe to Lieutenant Haan’s Finir-Pel? His charts may be more up to date than Walker ’s. If we can compare where Hidoiame was last seen to where we suspect her base might be, maybe we can catch her before she scoots!”

“What are you talking about?” Sandra suddenly demanded, looking at Matt with stormy eyes. “ You’re not going after her!” The Imperials around the table were visibly shocked by her outburst, but Matt just looked at her. “It’s not that you shouldn’t go or I don’t want you to,” Sandra continued. “That’s true enough. But I forbid it because you can’t!”

“You forbid?” Matt demanded, eyes wide.

Sandra stood and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “Yes! As Medical Officer of USS Walker and Minister of Medicine for the Allied Powers, I declare you, your ship, and her crew unfit to pursue Hidoiame! None of you are sufficiently recovered from your wounds, physical and psychological, and you have neither the strength nor material means to accomplish the mission!”

“Shit!” murmured Silva, too loud again, in a tone that showed admiration for her angle, if not her message. “Look at her go!” The Bosun, face purple, made a savage “cut it” gesture at him.

“I and I alone am the judge of whether or not my ship is fit for action!” Matt said coldly.

“And I say that if you intend to pursue Hidoiame at this time without the rest your crew needs and the refit your ship requires, then your judgment must be impaired by exhaustion, Captain Reddy! You can’t be everywhere at once. You and your crew, your ship, have been too close to the fire for too long, and sooner or later it’s going to burn you up! You know that yourself, but if you can’t see that going after Hidoiame will turn ‘sooner’ into ‘now, ’ then you can’t be thinking clearly! She’s a new ship-faster, heavier, and better armed! How close would you have to get to even damage her with the primitive shells you’ve been forced to use? All that time while you’re trying to close, Walker will be taking fire. And it won’t be cannonballs-it’ll be high-explosive shells, accurately delivered, to kill your crew and your ship!”

Sandra’s argument was beginning to take its toll. She was right, and Matt knew it. Walker had a full load of ammunition for her main battery, all but the Japanese 4.7-inch dual-purpose that had replaced her own damaged number four gun on the aft deckhouse. They had almost shot it “dry,” and other ships and installations armed with the rest of Amagi ’s salvaged secondaries had priority for resupply. The black-powder four-inch-fifty shells Walker had taken east and that supply ships had begun stockpiling for her at almost any friendly port she might touch, had worked better than they had any right to expect, but they just didn’t have the range to go up against Hidoiame. But the rogue Japanese destroyer they’d left Okada to deal with had proven she was just too dangerous to run loose anymore. If they didn’t catch her now, how would they find her later? What if, God forbid, she managed to make it all the way to join Kurokawa and the Grik?

“Aah, Cap-i-taan Reddy?” said Raada-Nin reluctantly. “My manifests include supplies dispatched for the… main-tin-aance of your ship. Among those supplies is a quantity of ammunition for your main baat-tery. New ammunition.” He blinked apology at Sandra, but he couldn’t keep it secret.

“New?”

“Ay, Cap-i-taan. From Mr. Saan-dison in Ord-naance.” He fished in his belt pouch and extended a letter. “This is from him to you. I would have left it for you had we already off-loaded and sailed for New Bri-taan Isles, but may-be you look at it now?”

Wordlessly, Matt took the letter and read.

To: Captain Reddy, CINCAF, HCAC, and CO USS Walker (DD-163)

From: Lt. Cmdr. B. Sandison, Acting Minister of Ordnance

Dear Skipper,

I don’t know if this will find you, but if it does, I hope it finds you well and already on your way home. You’ll be glad to hear that we’ve finally solved the guncotton issue and I’m really kind of embarrassed how easy it was once we quit trying to make it so hard. Evidently, cellulose is cellulose, to a larger degree than I had imagined. Anyway, we now have some four-inch-fifty shells I think you’re going to like. I won’t go into all the tech stuff here-some is stenciled on the crates and there’s more for Campeti in an insert pamphlet-but basically, pressures look good (17.4 tons). I’m sure glad we didn’t fork over the copper rods for making the pressure disks! Who knows what kind of “copper” they are, and how to duplicate it! We tested the shells in Old Number Four, as we call her (she’s shipshape again, by the way), and S-19’s deck gun. I’m happy to report that the trajectories matched book specs. There’s still something screwy with the burn rate or the alloy we’re using for the brass shells is a little off, because sometimes (around 10 percent) they split, but no chamber damage has been observed.

The projectiles aren’t armor piercing-what’s out there to pierce? — and we stuck with the old, specified 1.1-pound black-powder bursting charge, but the projectiles are the proper 33-pound iron with brass bearing bands. They shoot straighter, hit harder, and pack nearly the same wallop our old HE did. I think you’ll like them.

I’ve sent close to a full load out with Lieutenant Raada-Nin. He has orders to leave half at Respite and take the other half to Scapa Flow if you don’t meet. More are already at Manila, along with all the specs to start production on them, as well as the Jap secondaries scattered around.

Other projects are proceeding in every department, and I hope to have some very pleasant surprises for you soon.

Respectfully,

B. Sandison

Lt. Cmdr. USNR

Still without speaking, he handed the letter to Sandra, who scanned it incredulously. “So?” she demanded harshly, tossing the sheet toward the Bosun. “What difference does that make? Maybe you’ve got better ammunition now. What chance will that give you?”

“An even chance,” Matt replied, “and that’s better than usual.”

“Even,” Sandra snorted. “Right. That’s like saying an old man is ‘even’ with a teenager because he can spit just as far.”

“Lady Sandra!” Emelia gasped. She was not above such disputes with her husband, but never like this, in front of others, and she was keenly aware of the presence of all the Imperial men-something Sandra seemed to have forgotten.

Sandra suddenly looked around at the uncomfortable or disapproving stares, and realized with sick certainty that her outburst had doomed her cause. If only she’d waited, tried to reason with Matt in private, she may have stood a chance. But now she’d backed him into a corner, in front of men-their allies-who would think him weak if he conceded to her… and they could not think the Commander in Chief of All Allied Forces was weak. The Lemurians would understand how crazy it was for Matt to risk himself and his ship like this unless the situation was utterly desperate. The whole Alliance could crumble if something happened to him; he was still the primary unifying force. But as much as she knew the Imperials respected and honored Matt as a warrior and even as the savior of their country, they had a strong emperor again, and a country with a long tradition of unity. They just wouldn’t get it yet, wouldn’t think that way… It was then that she caught the very distressed expression on Ambassador Forester’s face. Or would they? She thought.

“The young lady may have a point, you know,” Forester said in a soothing tone. “Granted, her outburst was… unseemly, but the traditions of the Americans are different from ours and it is understandable if she is upset. We were discussing her wedding just a short time ago, after all.”

Sandra’s ears burned at the thought they would believe that was her primary motivation, but she kept her mouth shut.

“I know little of Walker. Her design is foreign to me. But even I can see that she has suffered serious damage that cannot all be repaired here. Is it wise to risk her and her brave, valuably experienced crew to destroy a single ship?”

“No,” Matt himself agreed honestly, “but wise or not, I don’t see a choice.”

“Keep sendin’ planes after her. Bomb her to scrap, I say,” said the Bosun.

“And lose how many? Six already tried, and four were lost without even scratching her paint. That’s eight precious flyers we can’t afford to lose.” Matt shook his head. “ Walker ’s more important to me than to anybody, but in many respects, this war has passed her by almost as thoroughly as our war against the Japs did. She’s not going to decide this one either, Boats. Not by herself. Lieutenant Tucker’s right about that. Sure, she might as well be a battleship in a surface action against what we’ve seen, but air power will most likely be the tipping point. In the meantime, though, it’s not even close to ‘even’ for whatever Hidoiame runs into. Apparently, not only did she destroy Mizuki Maru, but two feluccas and a frigate. That’s close to seven hundred people she’s killed, beyond her previous… atrocities.”

“One of our big carriers with Amagi ’s secondaries could take her,” the Bosun speculated.

“If it could draw her in,” said Chack, “but it would never catch her. An entire wing of ‘Naan-cees’ could overwhelm her defenses and probably sink her…”

“But the losses would be terrible,” Matt repeated, “and the question’s moot anyway. Saan-Kakja’s building two more flat-tops for deployment to the east, but though they’ll be heavily armed with conventional weapons-muzzle-loading cannon, and big ones too-they’re still limited to a couple of thousand yards, tops. Besides, neither of them will be ready for sea sooner than three months from now. That’s too long.”

“So you’re going to do it,” Sandra stated. It wasn’t a question.

“No choice. I wish we’d been close enough to do it when we first heard about her, but all our major ports and strategic outposts are well enough armed to protect themselves, and besides, we had other priorities.” He shrugged. “And I thought Okada would handle her.” He was silent for a moment, and everyone saw the thoughts colliding behind his eyes.

“Hell!” he said suddenly. “I hate it how things sneak up on me! I just realized that she represents another, more pressing threat I hadn’t even thought of before. She had an oiler in tow when she came through her squall-or whatever it was-so we’ve been thinking she’d just hole up. But what if the oiler wasn’t full? What if she’s starting to run low on fuel, or what’ll she do when she does? The longer she’s on the loose, the sooner that’ll happen. If she’s based where we think she is, she can’t even drill for oil like we did because there isn’t any there. She can’t take it from any of our facilities or set up shop nearby without us knowing it… and she can’t even know everywhere we are!”

Matt’s face turned even grimmer as he looked around the table. He saw Chack blinking furiously in thought.

“That means this bad Jaap will have only one other way to sustain himself, at least in the short term,” Chack murmured, his tail swishing behind him.

“Right,” said the Bosun thoughtfully. “She’ll have to go after our ships like a g-dad-blasted pirate! Take oil from the steamers, probably the food and supplies from other ships in the pipeline, headed either way. She might already be doing it!”

“That Jap tin can’s a major threat to our shipping lanes, all around the Fil-pin lands, at least,” Matt confirmed. “With her range advantage and speed, she might as well be the Graf Spee!”

“And us without the old Exeter to chase her down,” Gray agreed, oblivious that most of those present had no idea what he was talking about. He remembered when he and his captain had watched the Japanese sink the famous British cruiser, almost effortlessly.

“Yeah…” Matt’s sigh was almost a groan. “This Hidoiame can cripple our overall war effort, on both fronts, whether she’s become Kurokawa’s stooge or not.” He paused. “Lieutenant Raada-Nin, would you mind taking Chief Gunner’s Mate Stites out to look at these new shells?”

“Of course not, Cap-i-taan Reddy.”

“Good. Silva, go with ’em. Pick up Campeti on the way. We’ll have to test them, obviously, and recalibrate the gun director, but I want to know what all of you think immediately. Ask Spanky and Tabby to join us up here as well.” He looked around the table, his gaze fastening on Governor Radcliff. “I don’t mean to impose, sir. If you’d rather I go back to my ship…”

“Absolutely not! No imposition at all. Battles are complex things, I’m told, and though I’ve no notion how to fight one, perhaps I can learn a bit about preparing for one, at least.”

“Thank you, sir,” Matt said sincerely. “And if you or your officers have any questions-or suggestions-I’d love to hear them.” He looked at Sandra then and saw her desolate expression. He’d called her bluff and she’d backed down, as he knew she would. He actually agreed with many of her arguments… and maybe his judgment was affected? He was tired; everyone was, and they’d desperately needed this… respite. He could also tell that she knew he was right as well, however. Particularly as the new threat sank in. She never would have retreated otherwise. Not for the first time, the two absolute necessities they advocated were irreconcilable. But this time, for the first time, he was afraid it might tear them apart. He longed to hold her, reassure her, and wished they could take some time alone. Maybe later, if she’d allow it. For now, he had to plan. So did Sandra, it seemed, because Emelia Radcliff suddenly rose and tugged her by the hand.

“You men may draft your war,” she said a little harshly. “Lady Sandra and I will try to salvage her wedding-if it is still to occur at all.” She stared hard at Matt, and though he could tell she was angry, he was surprised to get the impression she wasn’t only mad at him. Sandra wouldn’t-couldn’t, he thought-meet his gaze. “I presume you won’t be steaming away again at first light, Captain Reddy?”

“No, ma’am,” Matt replied quietly. “We couldn’t if I wanted to. We’ll have to remain here several days, at least.”

“Gomez!” Governor Radcliff suddenly called. “You may clear away the debris of our meal now. And do bring brandy, if you please!”