Distant Thunders_ Destroyermen Part 23

"Well, it was kind of blotchy," Sid Franks volunteered. As the carpenter, he would now have to repair the damaged gangplank. The jet of water had enough force to blow off the handrail. "It swirled up when it . . ." He stopped, staring at the water.

"So whatever it is, it's still in there?" There were nods and Irvin sighed. "Must be a sea creature. Came out of the water last night when n.o.body was looking and moved in." He shrugged. "Only one thing for it." He turned to Midshipman Hardee, who, along with a 'Cat who'd been dubbed Spook, had increasingly taken on their ordnance duties. "We have to get rid of this thing before we can get any more work done today. Get some of the grenades and all the small arms. Make sure you issue them to guys who know how to use them."

The armed guards who protected the workers from the denizens of the jungle were summoned, and with the distribution of the four other Krags and the single Thompson (all the small arms had been retrieved from the submarine on Walker Walker's previous visit) a total of eight riflemen, one submachine gunner (Danny), and Irvin Laumer armed with his pistol prepared to face whatever was in the water. Six grenadiers had simple, ingenious devices quite similar to the grenades the Americans were accustomed to. They were virtually identical in form and function, although the fuses weren't as reliable. There could be as many as ten seconds or as few as two before the things went off, so there was never any goofing around after the spoon flew.

Irvin nodded at the first 'Cat grenadier. The idea was to chase the creature aft, toward the screws, where the water was shallower. There they hoped to get some shots at it. The grenades weren't powerful enough to damage the pressure hull of the submarine, but Irvin told them not to throw the things too close to it anyway. With a returning nod, the first 'Cat pulled the pin and dropped his weapon in the water. A few seconds later, a geyser of spume and white smoke erupted into the air with a dull thump, and this was the signal for the next grenade. A high, splashing column of water that dissipated downwind followed another ker-plunk ker-plunk. A third grenade went off. Then a fourth. Suddenly, out of the spume of the fifth grenade, something . . . terrifying . . . scrambled up out of the excavation directly at Tex Sheider. At first glance, it looked like a mottled black-and-green spider, but it had a tail sort of like a lobster and long, thin claws to match, making it at least ten feet long. One of the claws clutched the partially shredded body of the 'Cat workman.

"Holy s.h.i.t!" was all Tex had time to screech before it blew him off his feet with a concentrated burst of seawater. Instantly, the monster lunged at him.

"Well . . . fire, d.a.m.n it!" Irvin yelled.

Danny opened up with his Thompson, spraying chunks off the beast in all directions. The black powder loads under his bullets created a fog bank of white smoke around him. The thing recoiled from the impacts and writhed in agony. The other riflemen had recovered somewhat from the sudden appearance and attack and were scrambling to shoot without hitting one another. Irvin stepped forward, firing his pistol. He'd never fired any of the new loads before and was surprised not only by the smoke, but by the significantly greater recoil and loud boom that came with every shot instead of the usual sharp bark. The hideous creature turned to face him and he steeled himself for another blast of water. This time, however, there was only a meager, b.l.o.o.d.y splurt, and as he emptied his magazine, the creature suddenly flopped on its back and began to spasm violently. Irvin ran to Tex and grabbed him by the shirt, dragging him farther from the dying beast. Tex seemed unconscious, and where his shirt had torn, Irvin could see a dark red impact point on his chest.

"Cease firing!" he shouted at the men and 'Cats who were still shooting at the creature. Any twitching movement was sufficient proof to them that more bullets were called for. "Get over here! Help me with this man!"

Irvin was feeling for a pulse when Tex suddenly groaned. "Oh, Jesus, that hurts." He gasped.

"What does?"

"What do you think! It feels like that thing squirted a fourteen-inch sh.e.l.l at me!"

Irvin gently tore the rest of the shirt away. The red mark was already turning black. "Lie still! You may have some broken ribs! No wonder it was able to knock the 'Cat off the gangway! You're lucky it didn't stop your heart."

"I think it did, for a minute."

"Well . . . we don't have a real doctor. Sid knows a thing or two. Should be able to tell if anything's broken. You'll be taking it easy for a while, anyway." He motioned for some 'Cats to move Tex under the lean-to he'd been napping under. "Danny, form a detail to bury our man," he said, referring to the half-eaten 'Cat. "And get that d.a.m.n nasty thing's corpse out of my sight!"

"Yes, sir," Danny said. Only later did it occur to Irvin that the man had called him "sir." He raised the 1911 Colt and looked at it. Filthy. The new rounds might work okay, but they sure dirtied up a gun. "Mr. Hardee, you and Spook gather up all the weapons that were fired and clean them thoroughly. Step on it, too. No telling when we'll need them again."

Irvin sighed and looked at the submarine while workers either resumed their tasks or performed the duties he'd just ordered. Somehow, he'd managed to last until no one was looking before the shakes overtook him. For a long moment, he just held his trembling hands tight against his sides, waiting for the spell to pa.s.s-hoping it was just a spell. He'd been wondering more and more whether he was ready for this. In the past, he'd always had someone to turn to, to turn things over over to when it started getting rough. Now he was to when it started getting rough. Now he was it it. He had to come to grips with that. Ultimately, that was the real test Captain Reddy had given him, and in an even greater sense it was the test he'd set himself.

So far, in spite of everything, they'd made a lot of progress. S-19 hadn't been badly damaged before it wound up here, just out of fuel. Time and the elements had treated her more harshly than the j.a.panese did. "Task Force S-19" had done good work and with any luck, they'd get her off eventually. The trouble was, did they have time? Would the island even let let them go? One thing was almost certain: they'd lose more people before they were done. He hoped it would be worth it, and he hoped he wouldn't lose his mind-or his nerve. He wished Lelaa were here! them go? One thing was almost certain: they'd lose more people before they were done. He hoped it would be worth it, and he hoped he wouldn't lose his mind-or his nerve. He wished Lelaa were here!

Without noticing when it happened, he realized that his hands had stopped shaking. It was just a spell after all, he decided. This time. He looked at the lean-to, where Sid was inspecting Sheider. They were talking in low tones and he even heard a faint laugh. He shook his head and started back toward the sub.

Lelaa was mad as h.e.l.l. She'd had Simms Simms heaved to, just as the commander of the steamer had instructed. Her orders were not to fire on the Imperial ship for any reason, and while she understood the orders, she was still frustrated. Not that it would have done much good. The Imperial frigate was more than a match for her and both sides knew it. Still, this order to heave to only added insult to injury. Two feluccas, the ones she'd been dispatched to meet, had also loosed their sails. heaved to, just as the commander of the steamer had instructed. Her orders were not to fire on the Imperial ship for any reason, and while she understood the orders, she was still frustrated. Not that it would have done much good. The Imperial frigate was more than a match for her and both sides knew it. Still, this order to heave to only added insult to injury. Two feluccas, the ones she'd been dispatched to meet, had also loosed their sails.

Their mission had been to avoid contact, to observe from a distance and report, but the wind had died away and the steamer came to them. Helpless now, all they could do was what they were told. The enemy (she could think of it as nothing else) steamer closed the distance until she saw a form raise a speaking trumpet.

"I am impressed by your people's persistence," an amplified but distorted voice called, "but this is becoming ridiculous. I can't have you hounding us all the way to our destination! This is the last time I will suffer any interference! The next Allied vessel that crosses my path will be destroyed."

Lelaa quickly motioned for a speaking trumpet as well. Raising it to her lips, she caught herself wishing Irvin were there. She knew her English was better than good, but he'd always just seemed to have a way about him. "Excuse me, please," she called back. "We have neither the desire nor the ability to interfere with your progress. It is you who closed the distance with us. Our mission is merely to ensure that the hostages are safe and well. This is no more than I understand you invited us to do!"

"That is all? You don't mean to menace us with your mighty fleet?" mocked the voice.

Lelaa's tail swished with rage, but she managed a civil reply. "That is all, I a.s.sure you."

The man across the water didn't speak for a while, as if he were considering something. Finally he raised the trumpet again. "Since, as I said, this is the last time I will be bothered by you or your Alliance, I will allow you to come across and interview my guests. Come aboard alone. If I see any weapons, you will be fired upon!"

Lelaa lowered her trumpet, stunned. "Hoist out a boat," she said.

Clambering up the side of the Imperial frigate, Lelaa was not met by the sort of side party she'd grown to expect. Instead, a pair of armed men essentially took her into custody and escorted her to a small gathering by the rail. She'd never actually met Princess Rebecca, but she recognized her on sight. She bowed. "Greetings, Your Highness," she said in her most respectful tone. "I trust you and your companions are well?"

"Look. The monkey talks!" muttered a large, dangerous-looking man in the group.

"There, there, Mr. Truelove! Let's attempt to be civil!" admonished another, probably Billingsly, Lelaa decided.

"Well enough," the girl replied. "For now." She seared the one who must be Billingsly with a glare. "But one takes these things day by day."

Lelaa addressed Billingsly. "And what of the other hostages? She says they are well, but where are they? Have you any idea how important they are to us?"

Billingsly smiled. "Honestly, at first I did not. I expected my resolve to be tested and I'd be forced to, um, release a few of them over the side, as it were. Imagine my surprise when that did not occur! We quickly learned the truth of the matter. We knew who the Roman witch was, but good gracious! You cannot cannot imagine how amazed we were to discover one of our guests, the n.o.ble Minister Sandra Tucker, is practically affianced to your Supreme Commander!" He chuckled. "Honestly, I confess to a professional lapse. I never had any idea, yet the young princess let it slip as if it were common knowledge!" imagine how amazed we were to discover one of our guests, the n.o.ble Minister Sandra Tucker, is practically affianced to your Supreme Commander!" He chuckled. "Honestly, I confess to a professional lapse. I never had any idea, yet the young princess let it slip as if it were common knowledge!"

Rebecca loosed a glare of perfect hatred at Billingsly.

"I'll wager your Captain Reddy was a tad upset? I understand you have some means of rapid communication, so I expect he has been informed."

"He knows," Lelaa admitted, "and I submit that you you cannot imagine the wrath you have brought down upon yourself!" cannot imagine the wrath you have brought down upon yourself!"

"Oh, splendid!"

Lelaa was confused. "In any event, if any of the hostages have been mistreated . . ."

"Not a hair on their heads! They are confined, of course-no end to mischief in a couple of them-but their wounds are healing nicely and they thrive in their accommodations. It is is a bit cramped, and I'm afraid privacy is at a premium, but no one would say they've been mistreated!" A strange expression crossed Billingsly's face. Unlike most Lemurians Lelaa was good with human face moving, but this was . . . different. "Nor will you be, so long as you behave." a bit cramped, and I'm afraid privacy is at a premium, but no one would say they've been mistreated!" A strange expression crossed Billingsly's face. Unlike most Lemurians Lelaa was good with human face moving, but this was . . . different. "Nor will you be, so long as you behave."

"What . . . what do you mean?"

Truelove laughed and Billingsly's lips quirked into something like a smile. "Why, you will be joining them, of course." He turned to a darker-skinned man with a graying mustache. "Is that ridiculous ship still there? I believe I gave them fair warning that I did not wish to be pestered again! Open fire!"

"What! Wait!" cried Lelaa, struggling against the two guards who'd suddenly seized her arms. "You said 'the next time,' d.a.m.n you!"

Billingsly turned to her. "When you had the insolence, the gall to raise your speaking trumpet and answer back at me . . . at me me! You who are not only a lesser species, but a female female!" Billingsly barked an incredulous laugh. "That was was the next time. Captain Rajendra, I gave you an order!" the next time. Captain Rajendra, I gave you an order!"

The dark-skinned man replied, clearly forcing his voice to remain calm. "Commander Billingsly, firing on that ship would be an act of willful murder. They are completely unprepared. . . . Their guns are not even run out!"

"Then that should make destroying them all the easier. Destroy one of the other little ships as well; I don't care which, but you may allow one to escape."

"But, Commander!"

Still facing away, Billingsly spoke very clearly. "Destroy those ships, Captain Rajendra, or place yourself under arrest. Which will it be?"

"Simms!" Lelaa shrieked at the top of her lungs, hoping someone on the nearby ship might hear. "Hard over! Run!" Truelove backhanded her to the deck.

"Captain Rajendra?" Billingsly prodded.

Rajendra's expression seemed almost desperate as he looked at those around him. This was beyond anything, beyond even the questionable seizure of the princess. This entire episode had been engineered to paint the Navy with the same guilt the Company wore. He could not be part of it! But what of the princess? He feared for her and her friends, and he knew the Company had an unwholesome agenda regarding her. If he was relieved, he would be unable to help her. His eyes sought hers and he saw . . . pleading. She would think him a monster and might not trust him when she absolutely had to. And yet, the ships were doomed. If he refused the order, another would carry it out. Presently, he at least retained command of his ship's movements, if not her actions. He had to preserve that!

"Commence firing," he whispered, barely audible, eyes locked on the princess, pleading for understanding.

"What was that, Captain? I'm a bit hard of hearing today."

"Commence firing, G.o.d d.a.m.n you!" Rajendra bellowed, not caring if Billingsly knew he was shouting at him and not the crew.

CHAPTER 22.

Matt stood on Walker Walker's port bridge wing and, for just a while, allowed himself to feel the pure joy of the moment. At long last, his ship was alive again. He felt her sinews coiling for the rush in the vibration of the newly painted rail beneath his hands. Her hasty, impatient breath was in the blower behind the pilothouse. Her muscles were the men and 'Cats who scrambled on the fo'c'sle, a little awkwardly and out of practice perhaps, to single up her lines. Her heart was her own and always had been, but as he stood there, he almost felt her mind merge with his once more, becoming a willing tool for his purpose. Oh, if only Sandra were there, it would be the perfect perfect moment. A measure of her old vitality restored, the ship fairly strained against the bonds that clutched her to the land. She was ready for the long voyage ahead, come what may. Together they'd get Sandra back: the old destroyer and her captain. moment. A measure of her old vitality restored, the ship fairly strained against the bonds that clutched her to the land. She was ready for the long voyage ahead, come what may. Together they'd get Sandra back: the old destroyer and her captain.

"Take in the stern lines," Matt commanded, and he waited while the task was performed. "Left full rudder," he called to Kutas, the scarred helmsman. "Port ahead one-third." The dingy water alongside the dock boiled up through the propeller guard and thunderous cheers reverberated from the crowd gathered to see. Matt scanned the crowd for faces as Walker Walker's stern crept away. They were the ones who'd done this, the people of this city he'd grown to love. Partly they'd done it because this ship was their protector, the almost holy talisman that saved them from the Grik. They owed it to her; they needed her still-but the quality of the work they'd done and the inhuman hours that work had required bespoke a labor of love. Matt nodded his thanks to all of them, not only for what they had done for his ship, but for what he knew they'd done for him.

Some of the faces he saw were less jubilant than others. Adar appeared thoughtful, but he waved encouragingly. Judging by his posture, Keje was downright morose. He'd badly wanted to come, but Big Sal Big Sal would soon join the fleet at Singapore. He couldn't be in two places at once. Besides, his daughter Sela.s.s was sailing as would soon join the fleet at Singapore. He couldn't be in two places at once. Besides, his daughter Sela.s.s was sailing as Walker Walker's medical officer. They'd become quite close again and he would miss her. Letts looked anxious. He'd complained that he never got to go anywhere, but as Matt had once told him, he'd worked himself out of a job. He had a bigger job now and a very pregnant wife. Riggs looked stoic. Ed Palmer could do his job on the ship, but he couldn't take over ash.o.r.e. Perry Brister made an obscene gesture at somebody aft and Matt chuckled, spotting Spanky McFarlane waving cheerily from where the number one torpedo mount used to be. Spanky had left Brister in charge of his division in Baalkpan because there was no way Walker Walker was steaming off without was steaming off without him him.

Gazing farther aft, the incongruity of an airplane airplane lashed carefully to the deck behind the searchlight tower struck Matt again. Besides never having seen such a thing on a four stacker before, the Nancy just looked so strange and fragile. He knew it would be great having it along-if it didn't fall apart. Mallory had a.s.sured him the "ships" were tougher than they looked. Matt hoped the same was true for poor Reynolds. The young aviator seemed somewhat lost and all alone standing near the plane. lashed carefully to the deck behind the searchlight tower struck Matt again. Besides never having seen such a thing on a four stacker before, the Nancy just looked so strange and fragile. He knew it would be great having it along-if it didn't fall apart. Mallory had a.s.sured him the "ships" were tougher than they looked. Matt hoped the same was true for poor Reynolds. The young aviator seemed somewhat lost and all alone standing near the plane.

"Rudder amidships," Matt called. "Take in the bowline." A few moments later, he added, "All astern, one-third." The old ship groaned a bit as the turbines' gears reversed their thrust, but she did seem . . . tighter than he remembered. As they backed away, the crowd cheered again and Matt kept looking for faces as they grew smaller. Bernie was there, waving happily with the others. He liked his job ash.o.r.e. Laney was some distance away from him, sitting on a stanchion, probably wondering if he was happy or sad. He caught sight of Pam Cross and Risa standing side by side. Whatever . . . relationship . . . they shared with Silva, they were worried about the big ape, and his heart went out to them. The final face he recognized was that of one of the Mice-Gilbert Yeager-standing all alone with his hands in his pockets. Tabby knew Walker Walker's systems as well as anyone now, and she'd won the toss. Matt was secretly amazed Gilbert hadn't just sneaked aboard anyway. He'd done it before. Still, he was probably the most forlorn figure Walker Walker was leaving behind. was leaving behind.

"All stop. Right full rudder, all ahead two-thirds!" Matt commanded. The old ship's stern crouched down and water churned. Almost immediately, she began a looping turn to starboard. "Honk the horn, if you please," Matt said, and with a shriek of her whistle that drowned any further cheers, Walker Walker sprinted for the mouth of the bay. sprinted for the mouth of the bay.

"Feels good, huh, Skipper," said the Bosun as he and Chack appeared on the bridge. Back aboard his Home, Chack had immediately reverted to his role as bosun's mate. He would have other duties too: his company of Marines would augment the crew, but it also had to drill with the new muskets they'd been issued. Bernie had insisted Walker Walker get the first batch. get the first batch.

"Feels good," Matt confirmed. "We'll let things shake down a little; then we'll start running a few drills."

"Gonna be a comedy at first," Gray warned.

"I know. Say, where's Mr. Bradford? I figured he'd be on deck to enjoy the send-off."

"Oh, he's below, still stowing junk he says you you said he could bring along, for experiments an' such." said he could bring along, for experiments an' such."

Matt laughed. "He hit me with a list and swore he'd stick to it, but I guess I don't really care what he brought as long as it stays out of the way." He shook his head, watching as they left the feluccas and fishing boats in their wake. "G.o.d, it feels good to be moving moving again!" again!"

"In case you didn't notice, we were moving along pretty well on Achilles Achilles in that Strakka!" Chack said dryly. in that Strakka!" Chack said dryly.

"Mmm. That was quite the thrill ride, but we were being pushed. It's nice to move that fast on our own!"

They talked amiably until they pa.s.sed below Fort Atkinson and the report of a gun interrupted their conversation. Then another.

"A salute," Gray said. The guns kept firing. As the number mounted, Matt turned to Gray, who was staring expressionlessly ahead. When they finally stopped at nineteen, Matt's tone was ominous.

"Nineteen guns? You You told them to do that! Are you out of your mind? That's nuts . . . and think of the wasted powder!" told them to do that! Are you out of your mind? That's nuts . . . and think of the wasted powder!"

Gray looked at Matt. "Yeah, Adar asked and I told him. And it ain't nuts! The Secretary of the Navy gets that many, and if you ain't at least that, what are you? You'd better dip the flag or you'll disappoint the boys an' girls in the fort."

Walker turned north-northeast after clearing the point batteries and islands beyond. Sprinting at the glorious speed of twenty-six knots, she reached the refinery island of Tarakan at dawn the next morning. The growth was beginning to reestablish itself after the vicious but comparatively small battle once fought there, and the ensuing great fire that had ravaged the place. To Matt, it still seemed a little odd to see the Stars and Stripes flying over an island where not a single human currently dwelt. All the workers there were 'Cats-Navy 'Cats, and thus Americans-still. . . . turned north-northeast after clearing the point batteries and islands beyond. Sprinting at the glorious speed of twenty-six knots, she reached the refinery island of Tarakan at dawn the next morning. The growth was beginning to reestablish itself after the vicious but comparatively small battle once fought there, and the ensuing great fire that had ravaged the place. To Matt, it still seemed a little odd to see the Stars and Stripes flying over an island where not a single human currently dwelt. All the workers there were 'Cats-Navy 'Cats, and thus Americans-still. . . . Walker Walker topped off her bunkers and sped on. topped off her bunkers and sped on.

A week before Walker Walker sailed, they'd heard the news of sailed, they'd heard the news of Simms Simms's fate, when a lone felucca returned to Paga-Daan, Saan-Kakja's brother's home. The transmission had told how Simms Simms was approached and destroyed without warning of any kind. Worse, a felucca under the command of Saan-Kakja's brother himself was also destroyed. Other than a few of was approached and destroyed without warning of any kind. Worse, a felucca under the command of Saan-Kakja's brother himself was also destroyed. Other than a few of Simms Simms's crew who'd apparently rowed Captain Lelaa over to Ajax Ajax to confer with the hostage takers, there were no other survivors. Saan-Kakja was in a frenzy, understandably, but she was also ready to declare war on the Empire of the New Britain Isles. Matt had to send his personal a.s.surance that the Empire itself might not be to blame, and they'd secured a strong alliance with at least one element of the Imperial Navy. He then had to beg the Paga-Daans to replenish Jenks's ship when it arrived instead of firing on it. Things were spiraling out of control and, for Matt at least, the all-important war in the west had a.s.sumed an almost back-burner status. Meanwhile, he spent more time trying to smooth things over between his Allies than he did running his ship-all while pursuing the criminals who had taken Sandra, the princess, and at least three more of their people. Those hostages might now include to confer with the hostage takers, there were no other survivors. Saan-Kakja was in a frenzy, understandably, but she was also ready to declare war on the Empire of the New Britain Isles. Matt had to send his personal a.s.surance that the Empire itself might not be to blame, and they'd secured a strong alliance with at least one element of the Imperial Navy. He then had to beg the Paga-Daans to replenish Jenks's ship when it arrived instead of firing on it. Things were spiraling out of control and, for Matt at least, the all-important war in the west had a.s.sumed an almost back-burner status. Meanwhile, he spent more time trying to smooth things over between his Allies than he did running his ship-all while pursuing the criminals who had taken Sandra, the princess, and at least three more of their people. Those hostages might now include Simms Simms's captain.

Just as they turned west to cut across the Moro Gulf of the Celebes Sea, they received confirmation that Achilles Achilles had indeed reached Paga-Daan and had her fuel replenished. A subsequent transmission from had indeed reached Paga-Daan and had her fuel replenished. A subsequent transmission from Achilles Achilles-O'Casey had apparently finally figured out the device he'd been given-asked why the Paga-Daans had been so unfriendly. Matt had Palmer send a message that explained the new situation-and the Paga-Daans immediately replied that they had not been rude to Jenks. Matt finally summoned Bradford and put him in charge of the diplomatic situation and insisted that it had been his job in the first place.

Walker steamed on, her repaired sonar blasting the depths before her. The sonar had been a major concern, but all the delicate equipment had been above water in the charthouse, so it hadn't been as difficult to fix as originally feared. They'd installed a pair of the "Y" guns-thanks to steamed on, her repaired sonar blasting the depths before her. The sonar had been a major concern, but all the delicate equipment had been above water in the charthouse, so it hadn't been as difficult to fix as originally feared. They'd installed a pair of the "Y" guns-thanks to Simms Simms, they knew those worked-but it was good to be able to cross deep water at speed. With Bradford finally dealing with diplomacy, Matt was free to drill his crew and get his ship ready to fight.

"Sound General Quarters," Matt said for the third time that day, and cringed. Of all the things no one had thought to repair, the general alarm was becoming the most obvious. Everything else seemed to be working fine so far, but the alarm, always ill-sounding, now reverberated through the ship like a goose being choked underwater. Despite the comical sound, the crews immediately sprang to their stations. The automatic response had already returned to Walker Walker's veterans, and her new draft was quickly picking up the pace.

Fred Reynolds was the talker (he had to have something to do when he wasn't fussing with the plane) and he began to call out readiness reports from the various stations.

"Engineering reports manned and ready," he said. "Main battery is manned . . . and mostly ready. They're still having a little trouble figuring out who stands where on that j.a.p gun-I mean, number four." He quickly recited the rest of the litany. Matt noticed that the young ensign visibly paled when he reported for the plane-dump detail. Matt hoped it would never come to that, but if the plane ever caught fire or was otherwise interfering with the performance of the ship or crew in battle, they had to be ready to throw it over the side. He glanced aft and almost barked a laugh. Once again, he saw a pair of 'Cat mess attendants solemnly, carefully, carrying the c.o.ke machine forward to the companionway under Earl Lanier's fierce, watchful supervision. Apparently, Earl was determined that providing for the iconic machine's safety should become as instinctive as any other preparation for battle. It had been severely wounded in action before, and after Earl lovingly and painstakingly restored it to health, he wasn't going to risk it again.

"Lookouts, machine guns, and damage control, all manned and ready. All stations manned and ready, Captain!" Reynolds finally reported.

"Very well," Matt said, controlling his voice and looking at his watch with a dissatisfied frown. The time had actually been pretty good, but he had to maintain appearances. "Secure from General Quarters. Continue steaming as before but maintain condition three. I want a few fingers close to a few triggers. There are are sea monsters out there, after all." sea monsters out there, after all."

"Aye-aye, Skipper. Secure from General Quarters and maintain condition three."

In the short bustle that followed, while the crew secured their helmets and other gear, and men and 'Cats slid down the ladder from the fire-control platform above the wheelhouse, Courtney Bradford appeared on the bridge. "How invigorating!" he wheezed after the effort of climbing the steps aft. "The old girl seems as good as new and ready for a sc.r.a.p! It does my heart a world of good, I must say. It feels almost like old times!"

Matt turned to look at Bradford. "You weren't here for the old times, back before the war. We had some d.a.m.n good men and we've lost an awful lot of them since, but the few who remain, from Walker Walker and and Mahan Mahan, and a few from S-19, have become something a little more than just d.a.m.n good men. With them, and their Lemurian shipmates, this old can probably has as good a crew crew as any four stacker ever had!" as any four stacker ever had!"

"Quite," Courtney agreed. "I have always noted how, in the various navies I've grown familiar with, each crew contains all the wildly different varieties of specialized skills to operate and maintain their ship at sea and on far-flung deployments. Oddly, however, I've also seen how the men who possess those skills set themselves apart from one another as distinctly as, well, different races sometimes do. Aboard here, all those different skills have become wonderfully diffused through necessity. Your crew has become much better educated than is the norm, Captain Reddy, and they have accomplished that feat largely on their own."

"You're right, but they've had a lot of help," Matt said. "These 'Cats! They're smart as a whip, but teaching them stuff has helped all the fellas. I've often heard it said that teaching makes a smart man wise. I'm not sure that's true in a cla.s.sroom, but out here?" He shrugged. "It sure shows you what you don't don't know, and in our situation, you'd better find an answer. Chances are, somebody has one. That's what's caused your diffusion of skills." He waved his hand. "There'll always be rivalries. The 'snipes' and 'apes' wouldn't have it any other way, but that's good for morale. The thing is, after all we've been through and what this crew went through to get this ship back in action, there's probably not a deck ape aboard who couldn't lend a competent hand in the firerooms if it came to that. And vice versa. They might gripe, but they could do it and they know, and in our situation, you'd better find an answer. Chances are, somebody has one. That's what's caused your diffusion of skills." He waved his hand. "There'll always be rivalries. The 'snipes' and 'apes' wouldn't have it any other way, but that's good for morale. The thing is, after all we've been through and what this crew went through to get this ship back in action, there's probably not a deck ape aboard who couldn't lend a competent hand in the firerooms if it came to that. And vice versa. They might gripe, but they could do it and they would would."

"Speak for yourself, Skipper," said Chief Gray, joining the pair. "Spanky's still mad that I missed most of the slop work. Says I'm banned banned from the engineering s.p.a.ces! h.e.l.l, I wouldn't go down there to p.i.s.s on him if he caught fire!" from the engineering s.p.a.ces! h.e.l.l, I wouldn't go down there to p.i.s.s on him if he caught fire!"

"You see?" Matt said, laughing. "Boats, you're the exception that proves the rule!" He shook his head. "What does that mean, anyway? What a stupid thing to say."

"Indeed," Bradford agreed, lowering his voice. He glanced around as if checking to see who was in earshot. There weren't many secrets aboard Walker Walker, not anymore, but Bradford had learned that his theories and observations were sometimes p.r.o.ne to . . . upset sensitive ears. Some of those sensitive ears were already somewhat agitated. Everyone knew Walker Walker was steaming inexorably east and there was a very good chance she'd ultimately pa.s.s into waters no Lemurian had ever been. The fact that all the humans and a fair number of the Lemurian old hands seemed so unconcerned kept the edge off among the more strictly pious or superst.i.tious. In this case, however, Bradford himself had become suddenly and surprisingly sensitive to the imperative that they minimize stressful contemplations among certain elements of the crew. was steaming inexorably east and there was a very good chance she'd ultimately pa.s.s into waters no Lemurian had ever been. The fact that all the humans and a fair number of the Lemurian old hands seemed so unconcerned kept the edge off among the more strictly pious or superst.i.tious. In this case, however, Bradford himself had become suddenly and surprisingly sensitive to the imperative that they minimize stressful contemplations among certain elements of the crew.

Apparently a.s.sured there were no panicky types present, he proceeded. "I have in fact been giving that a great deal of thought. As you know, I've been overwhelmed with stimuli, overwhelmed, sir! This world is a cornucopia of delights for a man of my interests. Forgive me if, on occasion, I've been diverted from some fairly obvious conclusions that would've ordinarily struck me with the greatest importance! It's the sheer volume of wonders that's crippled me and I'm but one man. . . ." He paused. "I do hope we may rescue young Mr. Cook. He's been such a great help. . . ."

"Courtney?" Matt prodded.

"Of course. Where was I? Oh, yes. A mere trivial example of my preoccupation is my failure to extrapolate beyond a few observations I made when we first came to this world. Surely you remember when Miss Tucker and I dissected the creature we killed on Bali?"

The day Marvaney died. "Yeah, I remember," Matt said.

"Well, you may recall that Miss Tucker and I disagreed about the physiology of the beast? I said it was more like a bird, with its furry feathers and hollow bones, et cetera, and she said its jaws made it a lizard as far as she was concerned-oh, please don't take this as criticism of the dear woman-but, well, I was right, you see. I admonished her to judge them more by what they were were like and less by what they like and less by what they looked looked like . . . and I promptly fell into the same trap myself. We bandied the term 'lizard' about for so long, I failed to pursue my original course of study. We like . . . and I promptly fell into the same trap myself. We bandied the term 'lizard' about for so long, I failed to pursue my original course of study. We were were a bit busy at the time, as you'll recall. a bit busy at the time, as you'll recall.