Distant Thunders_ Destroyermen Part 7

"Not very well," Jenks observed skeptically, "if its present condition is any indication. And that one is metal. Why not these new ones?"

"You'd be amazed how well it flew," Matt answered wistfully, "and for how long. But our enemy managed to knock it down. Do you think you could shoot down a flying target?"

Jenks didn't answer.

"Anyway, the metal it was made of is called aluminum. It came from our old world, and I don't know when or if we'll ever be able to make it here. We're having enough trouble with iron. When we get that sorted out, we'll try steel-besides what we're salvaging from the enemy ship. I'm afraid the lizards are probably ahead of us there. . . . Anyway, once we get real steel, and plenty of it, you'll be amazed at what we can do."

Sandra pulled him down to whisper in his ear and Matt's face became grim, but he nodded. He straightened and looked Jenks in the eye.

"Now we're going to show you something else," he said. "So far, you probably haven't seen anything that would a.s.sure you we aren't a threat to your empire."

"Quite the contrary, Captain," Jenks answered honestly. "I could even argue that what I have seen here today proves you are a threat that should be quashed before you reach your stride, as it were." There was no hostility in Jenks's tone, only a dispa.s.sionate statement of fact.

"Very well. I'll prove it to you. I'll show you something that, up until now, we've been willing to kill your spies, if necessary, to keep them from seeing. I guess you could call it an industrial achievement of sorts"-he waved around-"but not like these others. Mainly, it's an admission of vulnerability, I guess, more than anything." His green eyes turned cold. "Something I d.a.m.n sure wouldn't show you if I was trying to intimidate you with our power. That alone should convince you we mean you no harm."

"Does this have to do with your mysterious iron-hulled steamer you've been hiding from us since we arrived?" Jenks asked quietly.

"Follow me," was all Matt said.

The group gathered on the dock overlooking the old shipyard basin. Oily brown water coiled with tendrils of iridescent purple and blue lapped gently against the old fitting-out pier. It was quiet where they stood, although considerable activity bustled nearby. Four of the great Homes had been flooded down across the mouth of the inlet in two ranks. Work was under way to seal the gaps between them, fore and aft, so there would ultimately be a pair of continuous walls from land to land.

A single "wall" was the customary dry-dock technique Lemurians had always used to build their great ships in the first place. Inspired by that, and realizing the need for a permanent dry dock, Spanky and Perry had designed one. It was a hard sell at first, since the effort required Walker Walker to remain on the bottom even longer. Also, even though he helped design the dry dock, Brister had made a reluctant but strong argument against taking labor and resources away from construction of the new Allied fleet. It was actually easier, he'd reasoned, to build entirely new ships than it would be to fix to remain on the bottom even longer. Also, even though he helped design the dry dock, Brister had made a reluctant but strong argument against taking labor and resources away from construction of the new Allied fleet. It was actually easier, he'd reasoned, to build entirely new ships than it would be to fix Walker Walker. He'd been in favor of using the Lemurian method to refloat the ship-and then only so they could stabilize her and prevent further deterioration. Perhaps someday they could attempt repairs. In the meantime, they should concentrate all their efforts on the new construction. As for the dry dock, it would certainly be a useful convenience, but one they could postpone.

Spanky argued that a permanent dry dock was essential, not only to refloat Walker Walker-and do it right-but because the new construction Brister referred to would be much more p.r.o.ne to require repairs below the waterline than other ships the Lemurians built. He vividly remembered how difficult it had been to remove one of Mahan Mahan's propellers and install it on Walker Walker. With the ravenous nature of the aquatic life on this different Earth, no underwater work could be performed without elaborate preparation. Besides, once they got her up, Spanky wasn't ready to write Walker Walker off. No one had any illusions that repairing the badly mauled destroyer would be an easy task; it might even be impossible. But they had to try. They owed her that much. off. No one had any illusions that repairing the badly mauled destroyer would be an easy task; it might even be impossible. But they had to try. They owed her that much.

As commander of all Allied forces, Captain Reddy had to make the decision, and he'd agonized over it, wondering if he was being entirely objective. He wanted his ship back, and everyone (particularly the Lemurians) wanted him to have her. She'd been instrumental in achieving every success they'd enjoyed, and the dilapidated old four stacker had become a powerful symbol to everyone involved in opposing the scourge of the Grik. The problem was, until they could get at her, there was no way to know if she could even be repaired, and Matt was realistic enough to know Brister was right: they had had to have those new ships. to have those new ships.

Spanky, Jim Ellis, and Sandra had been anxious too, but for a different reason. They knew they couldn't influence his decision, but they also knew how important it was not only to the future of the man who had to make it, but to all of their futures as well. Matthew Reddy had lost . . . a piece of his soul . . . when his ship went down. Only when he knew she was safe and afloat and alive did they think he'd gain it back. And he had to gain it back. Spanky's insistent argument that they needed a real dry dock-one way or the other-was finally sufficient to gain Matt's support.

It was still necessary to flood down the Homes-twice as many as would have been required to simply refloat the ship-since they had to create a dry lane in which to work. It would take longer, but the wait would be worth it. The Lemurian city of Baalkpan would have a real, dedicated, honest-to-goodness dry dock, and the implications of that went far beyond simply pumping out and patching up a single battered, overage destroyer.

What Jenks saw was a lot of heavy, new-looking machinery being erected, and he recognized much of it in principle, as well as the strange variety of crude, open air, steam engines. Tarred canvas hoses were coiled in heaps and a pair of large cranes were under construction. Then his eyes rested on the unfamiliar, scarred, and dreary structures protruding from the water. He gasped.

"It has sunk!" he exclaimed. "Your iron-hulled steamer, your Walker Walker, was sunk!"

"She was badly damaged in the battle," Matt confirmed woodenly, "and barely managed to make it here. We'll try to refloat her, but we've got no idea if it's even possible. She might be damaged beyond repair."

Jenks turned a sympathetic glance to Matt. He fully understood the trauma of losing a ship and wondered if that might explain a lot of Captain Reddy's distance. Of course, he chided himself, not having known of the loss, he'd possibly been less than sensitive himself. "I didn't know," he managed. "n.o.body knew."

"That was our intention. You keep wondering if we're a threat to you, but how are we to know you're not a threat to us?" Matt shook his head. "I don't think you could conquer conquer us. No offense, but based on what we've learned from the princess and . . . Well, we're pretty secure here now. We've stood against a more ma.s.sive a.s.sault than I think you could ever mount. Our concern is, we already us. No offense, but based on what we've learned from the princess and . . . Well, we're pretty secure here now. We've stood against a more ma.s.sive a.s.sault than I think you could ever mount. Our concern is, we already have have an enemy and we have to strike as quickly as we can. As much as we'd like to be friends with your Empire, we can't afford to be distracted right now. We have to go after the Grik with everything we have, and that an enemy and we have to strike as quickly as we can. As much as we'd like to be friends with your Empire, we can't afford to be distracted right now. We have to go after the Grik with everything we have, and that would would leave us vulnerable here. We're not really even asking for a true military alliance, much as we'd like one. We just want you to leave us alone!" leave us vulnerable here. We're not really even asking for a true military alliance, much as we'd like one. We just want you to leave us alone!"

"Releasing the princess into our care would go a long way toward a.s.suring that," Jenks said with a trace of sarcasm.

"Possibly, but she doesn't want want to be released, does she?" Sandra suddenly interjected with a pa.s.sion that disconcerted Jenks. He'd been surprised she was even present. Different people had different customs, but he'd never met any culture that encouraged women to speak so boldly, or even allowed their presence in situations such as this. The rules were different for n.o.bility of course, but the Americans didn't have a n.o.bility. . . . Did they? Perhaps they'd been influenced by the Lemurians. Lemurian females clearly enjoyed a status here the likes of which he'd never seen. Maybe the scarcity of American women gave them more power? No, he rejected that. He knew Miss Tucker held the rank of lieutenant and was their Minister of Medicine. She clearly had real status and felt no constraints in demonstrating it. Odd. to be released, does she?" Sandra suddenly interjected with a pa.s.sion that disconcerted Jenks. He'd been surprised she was even present. Different people had different customs, but he'd never met any culture that encouraged women to speak so boldly, or even allowed their presence in situations such as this. The rules were different for n.o.bility of course, but the Americans didn't have a n.o.bility. . . . Did they? Perhaps they'd been influenced by the Lemurians. Lemurian females clearly enjoyed a status here the likes of which he'd never seen. Maybe the scarcity of American women gave them more power? No, he rejected that. He knew Miss Tucker held the rank of lieutenant and was their Minister of Medicine. She clearly had real status and felt no constraints in demonstrating it. Odd.

"I think she has more reason to fear for her safety aboard your ship than she does here," Sandra continued. "You may not have noticed, but she's something of a heroine to the people of this city. If they ever found out something happened to her while she was in your care, there probably would would be war, and there wouldn't be anything I or Matt or anyone else could do about it-even if we wanted to." be war, and there wouldn't be anything I or Matt or anyone else could do about it-even if we wanted to."

She sighed, and Jenks saw the pain on her face. "None of us wants or needs such a stupid, wasteful war. There would be terrible losses on both sides, and no matter who eventually 'won,' both of us would ultimately lose in the end," she said with certainty. "We don't have time time to let the Grik catch their breath, and we need every warrior we have to face them-just as I think you need all your troops and ships to avert threats of your own. To to let the Grik catch their breath, and we need every warrior we have to face them-just as I think you need all your troops and ships to avert threats of your own. To your your east, perhaps?" east, perhaps?"

Her last punch was a good one, judging by Jenks's expression, even if it was just a guess. Rebecca and O'Casey had described other humans east of the empire who had been a growing threat. They hadn't known of any recent, open confrontations, but they'd been gone a long time and Jenks had certainly been jumpy about something from the start. Their revelations had practically pinpointed the location of the heart of the Empire as well.

"Perhaps you are right," Jenks temporized, still overcoming his surprise. "Perhaps we both have more pressing concerns than fighting one another. But even if you are right about that, surely you can see why I personally chafe at this interminable delay? Honestly, how long must my squadron languish here while it might be needed elsewhere?"

Matt pointed to a small forest of masts cl.u.s.tered beyond the point, where the new fitting-out pier was. These were not just more captured Grik ships under repair. They were new ships, built and fitting out along the same lines as the first human/Lemurian frigates that had performed so well in the previous battles. This construction was different however. Structurally as stout and almost identical to their predecessors, these were steam powered with a central screw propeller. Matt disliked what he considered the Imperial's dangerously exposed paddle wheels, and now that they knew the Grik had cannons, he'd insisted they not take any chances that a single lucky hit might put a ship out of action.

"Over there is one of the main reasons I invited you here today. The main main reason." He paused. "Why don't you see for yourself?" he asked. "In just a few weeks, we'll mount an expedition to a.s.sess the situation in Aryaal, and possibly a few other places. Come with me. By the time we return, we'll know whether or not we can push the Grik on our own terms, or if we'll have to continue preparations for a more costly campaign. Either way, with that knowledge, I hope to be free to escort Her Highness home." reason." He paused. "Why don't you see for yourself?" he asked. "In just a few weeks, we'll mount an expedition to a.s.sess the situation in Aryaal, and possibly a few other places. Come with me. By the time we return, we'll know whether or not we can push the Grik on our own terms, or if we'll have to continue preparations for a more costly campaign. Either way, with that knowledge, I hope to be free to escort Her Highness home."

Commander Walter Billingsly was writing furiously in his journal, quill scritching violently on the coa.r.s.e paper and spattering little drips and blobs among the words. The writing style was a reflection of his personality: get to the point, regardless of the mess, and do it at a furious pace. Today, he was most furious to learn Commodore Jenks had been given a tour of the "apes" industrial center and he had not been officially informed, nor had he been allowed to send any "escorts" along. Jenks's growing independent-mindedness regarding this entire fiasco was becoming increasingly tiresome. His hand stilled when he heard the sounds of the commodore being piped back aboard. Quickly, he capped the inkwell, wiped his quill on a stained handkerchief, and sanded his most recent pa.s.sage. Closing the leather-bound book, he stood and straightened his overtight tunic and rounded the desk on his way to the door and the companionway beyond.

On deck, he moved to intercept the commodore as soon as the side party was dismissed.

"What is the meaning of this, Jenks?" he demanded quietly, but with an edge. One must always observe the proprieties of the fiction that the Navy actually controlled its ships.

"The meaning of what, Commander Commander?" Jenks replied through clenched teeth. He was clearly angered by Billingsly's tone, but also somewhat . . . distracted.

Billingsly straightened, glancing about. He had a lot of men on this ship, some known, others secret, but the vast majority were loyal Navy men. The charade must be maintained.

"Might I have a word with you, sir? In private?"

Jenks seemed to focus. "I suppose," he muttered resignedly. Raising his voice, he addressed Lieutenant Grimsley. "Lieutenant, there will be an unscheduled boat alongside shortly, I shouldn't wonder. They'll request our coaling and victualing requirements for an extended period. Say, two months. Have a list ready when they arrive, if you please."

"Of course, Commodore," Grimsley replied, eyebrows arched in surprise.

Billingsly was equally surprised, but said nothing as he followed the commodore down the companionway to his quarters. Inside, Jenks tossed his still-damp hat on his desk, undid the top b.u.t.tons of his tunic, and loosened his cravat. Pouring a single small gla.s.s of amber liquid, he relaxed into his chair with a sigh. The stern gallery windows were open for ventilation, but it was still oppressively hot. Without waiting for an invitation, Billingsly took a seat in front of the desk.

"I take it the Americans and their Apes have finally agreed to return the princess to us?" he ventured. "Even so, two months would seem . . . uncharacteristically parsimonious. They have not stinted our supplies before, and such a quant.i.ty might not see us home."

"Her Highness still insists on returning home with her 'friends,' " Jenks announced. "I spoke with her myself just prior to returning to the ship. You will be glad to know she is well, happy, and thriving," he added with a barb.

"But . . ."

For once, Jenks saw Billingsly's perpetual scowl dissolve into an expression of complete confusion. He had to stifle a sense of amus.e.m.e.nt and satisfaction over the bloated b.a.s.t.a.r.d's discomfiture. "In slightly under three weeks' time, Achilles Achilles will accompany an Allied squadron to the place they call Aryaal and perhaps points west and north, in an attempt to discover the current dispositions of these Grik of theirs. Captain Reddy made the offer, and after consulting with the princess, I accepted. I consider it an invaluable opportunity to a.s.sess the strategic threat posed by the Grik, as well as our hosts. We will be going as observers only and will not engage in hostilities if any do, in fact, occur. If they do, at the very least I will have the opportunity of seeing the Grik for myself and I'll learn quite a bit about the military capability of this Alliance of theirs as well." will accompany an Allied squadron to the place they call Aryaal and perhaps points west and north, in an attempt to discover the current dispositions of these Grik of theirs. Captain Reddy made the offer, and after consulting with the princess, I accepted. I consider it an invaluable opportunity to a.s.sess the strategic threat posed by the Grik, as well as our hosts. We will be going as observers only and will not engage in hostilities if any do, in fact, occur. If they do, at the very least I will have the opportunity of seeing the Grik for myself and I'll learn quite a bit about the military capability of this Alliance of theirs as well."

Billingsly's scowl returned and deepened while Jenks spoke. "You should not . . . must must not make a decision like that without consulting me!" he said menacingly. not make a decision like that without consulting me!" he said menacingly.

"I must and I did make the decision, Commander," Jenks replied. "The offer was phrased in a 'take it or leave it, now or never' fashion," Jenks lied smoothly, "and I saw no choice but to accept."

"Of course you had a choice!" Billingsly countered hotly. "They will never send the princess on this 'expedition' of theirs! With the cream of their naval force otherwise engaged, we could easily take her and be gone!"

"Past those b.l.o.o.d.y great guns in the fort?" Jenks replied, his own voice rising. "You must be mad."

"Plans could be made. They already have been," he hinted. "With a judicious use of force, a few diversions, and a bit of mischief here and there, we could be gone before they could possibly respond."

Jenks paused, considering his next words carefully. He knew they could condemn him of treason in any Company court. A naval inquiry might see things differently, but who was to say how things now stood after their long absence? He had no choice. "You are forgetting their iron-hulled steamer. I have seen it now, and I tell you it could easily catch us even if we proceeded under full steam for the entire trip-which we certainly cannot do. They intend to leave it here to ensure against any such scheme as you suggest."

Billingsly's expression suddenly became blank, unreadable. He took a breath. "A point," he said. Then an incomprehensible thing occurred; Billingsly smiled. The expression was so foreign to his face that it almost seemed to crack under the strain. "You make a valid point," he continued more earnestly. "And I apologize for my earlier rashness. You have clearly scored a coup! A major intelligence-gathering opportunity! I congratulate you."

Taken aback, Jenks stared at the man. Billingsly's mood had changed so abruptly and uncharacteristically, Jenks couldn't avoid a creeping suspicion. But if Billingsly somehow knew he'd lied about Walker Walker's condition, he would have arrested and usurped him on the spot. Wouldn't he? Moreover, the opportunity was just as significant as Jenks had argued, after all. Perhaps the inscrutable Company man had simply recognized that in an apparent flash of insight, just as it seemed.

"Well, then . . ." Jenks said. "Very well."

"I will, of course, remain here aboard Ajax Ajax in your absence, to continue to advance our interests and ensure the Apes understand we have not forgotten our princess," Billingsly said. in your absence, to continue to advance our interests and ensure the Apes understand we have not forgotten our princess," Billingsly said.

Jenks was actually relieved. He'd expected Billingsly to demand to come along and he really didn't want him breathing down his neck. Captain Rajendra of Ajax Ajax was a good officer and would keep him in check. Still a little disconcerted by his good fortune, Jenks spoke a little hesitantly: "Of course. Um, I don't expect you to curtail your . . . surrept.i.tious activities, but please do try harder to avoid being caught. A temporary cessation, at least, might actually be in order. Perhaps they'll drop their guard." was a good officer and would keep him in check. Still a little disconcerted by his good fortune, Jenks spoke a little hesitantly: "Of course. Um, I don't expect you to curtail your . . . surrept.i.tious activities, but please do try harder to avoid being caught. A temporary cessation, at least, might actually be in order. Perhaps they'll drop their guard."

"An excellent suggestion, Commodore. Perhaps they will think, with you and Achilles Achilles away, they have less reason to fear. I will encourage that perception for a time." Billingsly stood. "Perhaps, at long last, we will see some movement here!" he said cheerfully. "By your leave?" away, they have less reason to fear. I will encourage that perception for a time." Billingsly stood. "Perhaps, at long last, we will see some movement here!" he said cheerfully. "By your leave?"

"Indeed."

Commander Billingsly created what he considered a rea.s.suring smile and left the commodore's quarters. In the pa.s.sageway beyond, his more comfortable scowl returned. "d.a.m.n him!" he muttered to himself, a kaleidoscope of thoughts whirling in his mind. He pa.s.sed a midshipman-he didn't know his name-in the pa.s.sageway.

"You there. Boy," he snarled.

The youth forced himself to pause, an expression of controlled terror on his face. Billingsly's proclivities were well-known-as was his power to indefinitely delay a midshipman's appointment to lieutenant. "Sir."

"Run along to Lieutenant Truelove, with my compliments, and ask him to join me in my quarters!"

Visibly relieved, the midshipman raced off.

CHAPTER 5.

Captain Hisashi Kurokawa, formerly of His Imperial j.a.panese Majesty's Ship Amagi Amagi, followed obediently behind his "masters" as they were escorted through the dark, dank, labyrinthine pa.s.sageways of what was roughly translated as "the Palace of Creation," toward the Holy Chamber of the Celestial Mother herself. He remained fully erect as he strode, carefully groomed and outwardly confident in his meticulously restored uniform complete with all his medals and many other meaningless, gaudy decorations he'd added for effect. Inwardly, he was terrified, and he'd learned enough about Grik body language-particularly that of the Hij-to know his masters weren't quite as collected as they tried to appear. That Tsalka, General Esshk, and Kurokawa had actually achieved this audience and not merely been killed out of hand seemed a good sign. At least the Celestial Mother wanted to hear what they had to say. Chances were, worst case, they'd be allowed to destroy themselves and not simply be torn to shreds. Regardless, he knew his masters had some fast-convincing-talking to do if any of them were to have any hope of survival.

Tsalka, still dressed in the fine robes of his office as Imperial Regent-Consort of Ceylon and "Sire" of all India, had cautioned Kurokawa to say nothing unless directly addressed, and for once, for his very life, he'd better prostrate himself before the Celestial Mother. A formal bow simply wouldn't do. Tsalka seemed the most concerned, and he nervously fiddled with his robes as they drew closer to the chamber. General Esshk was at least as outwardly calm as Kurokawa. Resplendent in his crimson cape, bronze armor, and polished, crested helmet, he still reminded Kurokawa of a fuzzy, reptilian caricature of a Roman tribune. He alone seemed oblivious to the heavily armed escort that accompanied them and only the occasional nervous twitch of his stumpy, dark-plumed tail beneath the cape betrayed any concern at all.

Of course, to his credit-Kurokawa supposed-Esshk's concern was more for the survival of his species than for himself. He knew how critical were the observations and ideas the three of them brought to this interview. If the Celestial Mother disregarded their arguments-that to defeat the ancient "Prey That Got Away," all the Grik must make profound, fundamental changes to their precious culture that had thrived in its present form for thousands of years-the ultimate foundation of that culture was doomed. Worse, from Esshk's perspective, failure to adapt could mean the extermination of his very species. Somehow, the Celestial Mother, the keeper and protector of that culture, must be convinced that change was essential-at least temporarily-and he, Tsalka, and the j.a.panese "hunter" named Kurokawa were indispensible as the only possible agents of that change.

Finally, the Holy Chamber opened before them and Kurokawa got his first glimpse of it, and the Celestial Mother herself. The chamber wasn't much different from Tsalka's he'd seen in Ceylon, except in size. Flowering ivies carpeted the floor and crept up the walls, the farthest of which was lost in the distant gloom. They const.i.tuted the only real decoration besides the throne itself, situated in the center of the chamber and bathed in sunlight that entered through an opening high above. A complex system of ingenious mirrors made sure that whatever time of day it was, sunlight always reflected downward upon the intricately carved and gilded throne, bathing it with its warming rays. Absently, Kurokawa wondered where the monster sprawled whenever it rained.

The Celestial Mother was immense. He'd been told roughly what to expect by Esshk, but he was still taken aback. She was at least three times as big as Esshk, who was big for a Grik, and she was incredibly, grossly, shockingly obese to such a remarkable degree as to defy imagination. He was instantly reminded of the mythical, flightless Chinese dragons, except the Celestial Mother had none of their sinewy grace. More like a monstrous grub, he thought. Rolls of fat bulged beneath her skin and drooped from the saddlelike throne like half-empty sacks of grain. Jowls hung just as alarmingly around her polished, bleached-white teeth, and her carefully manicured and painted claws extended, unused, much farther than normal beyond fat, stumpy fingers. Her fur was unlike any Grik's he'd seen before, either. Instead of the rather downy, striated, earth-tone covering he was used to, the Celestial Mother was adorned with actual plumage of a reddish gold hue, almost like new copper. It was beautiful. The contrast between the sparkling glory of her coat and the flabby obscenity it covered was striking. He had to remind himself that this ridiculous, virtually helpless creature before him might well be the most powerful being on this earth.

Together, Tsalka, Esshk, and Kurokawa mounted the first step of the triangular stone dais surrounding the throne and the two Grik instantly prostrated themselves. Kurokawa, with a surge of terror, took the gamble he'd been steeling himself for over the months-long journey to this place, ever since the three of them decided what they must do right after the defeat at Baalkpan: still standing, but making an elaborate flourish with his hands, he bowed very low. Tsalka couldn't see him, but he must have known what he'd done because he emitted a barely audible hiss. The Celestial Mother shifted slightly, causing rolls of gelatinous fat to ripple, and regarded him with her relatively small, bloodred eyes.

"So," she hissed, in a surprisingly high-pitched voice, "in addition to treason, incompetence, and a murderous waste of my precious Uul, I must add criminal impertinence to the charges against you." Tsalka practically moaned. Saying nothing, Kurokawa held his pose. "Well, creature, formerly formerly of the "Iron Ship Folk," what have you to say for yourself?" The question was the opening Kurokawa had been hoping for. of the "Iron Ship Folk," what have you to say for yourself?" The question was the opening Kurokawa had been hoping for.

"My most abject apologies, Your Majesty," he humbly intoned in English-a language he knew she understood, even if she couldn't speak it. "Among my people, this posture conveys the same meaning as that of Regent-Consort Tsalka and General Esshk. If anything, it signifies even greater respect. True warriors do not crawl on their bellies before any . . . being . . . in victory or defeat, and this posture is reserved only for those we consider worthy of our greatest respect and esteem. Forgive me if I have erred in presenting you with the most sincere honor and unreserved respect I am capable of."

The Celestial Mother leaned back, considering, as surprised by the creature's ability to speak so fluently in the "Scientific Tongue" as she was by his . . . interesting excuse. "Arise, Regent Tsalka, General Esshk," she said, almost as an afterthought. She turned her full attention to the general as he rose and her voice became harder. "The Invincible Swarm is defeated," she stated simply. "As you were once considered the greatest living general of our people, and particularly since you chose not to gently destroy yourself, but to come before me with an explanation-knowing your destruction here will not not be 'gentle'-I will allow you to speak." She glanced at Tsalka. "You are blameless for the actual defeat. You are no general, after all, but I understand you were deeply involved in the planning that led to this disaster, so either you meddled inexcusably or Esshk displayed even greater incompetence by heeding your untrained counsel. Regardless, you have attached yourself to his failure and will share his fate . . . unless you can convince me, as you claim, that you and Esshk, as well as this unwholesome creature you bring before me, deserve to exist." She paused. "No, in fact you must convince me beyond any doubt that your continued existence is essential not only to our ultimate success, but to our very survival as a species." be 'gentle'-I will allow you to speak." She glanced at Tsalka. "You are blameless for the actual defeat. You are no general, after all, but I understand you were deeply involved in the planning that led to this disaster, so either you meddled inexcusably or Esshk displayed even greater incompetence by heeding your untrained counsel. Regardless, you have attached yourself to his failure and will share his fate . . . unless you can convince me, as you claim, that you and Esshk, as well as this unwholesome creature you bring before me, deserve to exist." She paused. "No, in fact you must convince me beyond any doubt that your continued existence is essential not only to our ultimate success, but to our very survival as a species."

She allowed them a moment to contemplate that and, with some effort, contorted herself enough so that she could reach the basket of struggling hatchlings beside her throne. Seizing one, she popped it in her mouth and began to chew. Selected by the Chooser, they were the rejects from her own nest, and her favorite snack.

Tsalka cleared his throat and began to speak. The Celestial Mother had succinctly laid it out, and as tall an order as it was, the opportunity was greater than he'd secretly suspected.

"I thank you, Giver of Life. It is true that General Esshk and I took a great risk by coming before you, but not merely for our meager selves. Against the knowledge we bear, our fates are insignificant. We risk your wrath because we do do believe the existence of our very race is at stake. We have some few advantages, technological miracles our . . . partner in the Hunt has brought us." He gestured with lingering annoyance at Kurokawa. "Those miracles have already been used to some good effect and we have many more at our disposal, not yet implemented. But truly our only hope for survival, I fear, is that some very fundamental changes be made." believe the existence of our very race is at stake. We have some few advantages, technological miracles our . . . partner in the Hunt has brought us." He gestured with lingering annoyance at Kurokawa. "Those miracles have already been used to some good effect and we have many more at our disposal, not yet implemented. But truly our only hope for survival, I fear, is that some very fundamental changes be made."

"Such as?" the Celestial Mother demanded, still chewing.

Tsalka paused, measuring his next words very carefully. Finally, almost resignedly, he pointed at the basket beside the throne and, by implication, the morsels within. "Well, for example, we must stop eating those. The Choosers cull them because they are not fiercely aggressive. They defend themselves fanatically against their nest-mates that attack them, but are not attackers themselves. Thus they are not considered fit for the Hunt. Distasteful as the concept might be, General Esshk has convinced me that defense is something we must learn to do."

"Defense!" shrieked the Celestial Mother indignantly. "Defense is for prey! We are the predators all other creatures must defend against against! It has ever been thus! You would rend thousands of years of culture, tradition, based on a single defeat by an incompetently underestimated opponent? If that is the counsel you bring, prepare yourselves for the Traitor's Death!"

Tsalka prostrated himself again, but to his credit, Esshk remained standing beside Kurokawa. Inwardly, Kurokawa trembled with dread, but he knew that if he showed any doubt or fear now, all was lost.

"Giver of Life," Esshk said quietly, "with respect, and my most fervent worshipfulness, my life is, of course, yours to do with as you please, but I beg you to hear us. The Invincible Swarm was destroyed not only because we underestimated our foe-true enough-but because we were culturally unable to recognize the fact that the simple Tree Prey we met so long ago might have progressed into Worthy Prey. They have become other hunters who, in their fashion, have matched our capacity for the hunt. They had a.s.sistance, others like him"-he gestured at Kurokawa-"who taught them new miracles of war, but they adapted to those miracles more readily than we and used them more effectively. If we do not adapt as well, they will sweep us from the world."

"Prey?"

"Worthy Prey, Celestial Mother. And like other Worthy Prey, they have become hunters as well. Given time, they will pursue us." Prey, Celestial Mother. And like other Worthy Prey, they have become hunters as well. Given time, they will pursue us."

"Then we must mount another Swarm, greater than the one you wasted, and destroy them forever! Surely they suffered greatly as well. Now is the time to exterminate them!"

"I would agree . . . but where will we get the Uul, the warriors, for such a Swarm? Our frontiers are vast, and are we not now in contact with other Worthy Prey in the south? And in the west as well? I have heard rumors. . . ."

The Celestial Mother waved a hand. "It is true. We always meet new prey as we expand, and sometimes the great storms deliver others unto us . . . like your pet, perhaps? This new "Worthy Prey" in the south and west is weak in numbers, and infests a small, chill, and undesirable land. We are in no rush to hunt them, and they are no threat to us. We will manage. We always have."

"I propose that this time, you won't," Kurokawa interjected. He recognized the quaver in his voice and hoped the others didn't. "Not without us," he added more firmly.

"And what makes you so indispensable?" The Celestial Mother's tone was suddenly low, threatening.

Kurokawa forged ahead, counting his points on his fingers. "First, you could probably destroy the Tree Folk-prey-as you said, with one more major campaign, but the losses would be staggering. Where will you get the troops . . . the Uul warriors? Second, they know your weakness now." Even Esshk bristled at "weakness," but Kurokawa continued. "No doubt they have seen and understand your inability to defend. As soon as they are able, they will attack. They must must. Most likely, they will do so before you can adequately reinforce your forward outposts, like Aryaal." He paused and took a deep, tense breath. "Without proper defensive defensive tactics and preparations, those outposts cannot hold. To avoid even further pointless loss of . . . Uul"-he p.r.o.nounced it "Ool"-"I most respectfully recommend that you evacuate them. The tactics and preparations, those outposts cannot hold. To avoid even further pointless loss of . . . Uul"-he p.r.o.nounced it "Ool"-"I most respectfully recommend that you evacuate them. The strategy strategy of trading land for time is no disgrace if part of that strategy is to eventually recover what has been lost. Third, if we gain that time, we can use it to prepare. While the enemy-the prey-flounders along impotently behind us, extending their lines of supply while ours contract, we can build the cannon-armed armored ships I have proposed. We can make the flying machines, the artillery, and train your . . . of trading land for time is no disgrace if part of that strategy is to eventually recover what has been lost. Third, if we gain that time, we can use it to prepare. While the enemy-the prey-flounders along impotently behind us, extending their lines of supply while ours contract, we can build the cannon-armed armored ships I have proposed. We can make the flying machines, the artillery, and train your . . . our our troops, our Uul, in tactics that will succeed." Kurokawa shrugged imperceptibly, going for broke. "And yes, those tactics must be defensive at first." He held up a fourth finger. "Finally, when we have built these weapons, trained . . . our troops, swelled their ranks with an entirely fresh generation that has not known defeat, we wait until the prey is overextended and has stretched his lines of supply to the breaking point. . . ." troops, our Uul, in tactics that will succeed." Kurokawa shrugged imperceptibly, going for broke. "And yes, those tactics must be defensive at first." He held up a fourth finger. "Finally, when we have built these weapons, trained . . . our troops, swelled their ranks with an entirely fresh generation that has not known defeat, we wait until the prey is overextended and has stretched his lines of supply to the breaking point. . . ."

"Then attack?" asked the Celestial Mother, suddenly thoughtful.

"Then attack," confirmed Kurokawa. "The enemy does not breed or reach maturity as quickly as you. Break their Army and Navy and they will have no defense. You can then roll them up with ease and conquer every land from here to the Eastern Sea."

The Celestial Mother scratched her jowls. "Interesting," she hissed thoughtfully.

Esshk was staring at Kurokawa. They'd discussed all this before, but it was supposed to be he who presented their argument to the Giver of Life. "Indeed," he said, equally thoughtful.

Alan Letts stood from his place at the long table in the now almost fully restored Great Hall. The formal reception was intended to commemorate that, as well as the other grand undertakings that would soon commence. In spite of a general mood of joviality and goodwill, there was also a bittersweet understanding that they stood, once again, at a crossroads. The tightly knit members of the Grand Alliance that had hurled back the Grik would scatter again. Some would resume operations against the enemy at long last, while others like Shinya and Saan-Kakja would depart for the Fil-pin Lands, to oversee the development of an even greater a.r.s.enal of freedom than Baalkpan could ever be. Laumer's little squadron would accompany Saan-Kakja on his way to perform the perhaps impossible task Matt had set him. Regardless of their missions, the possibility always existed that they would never all be gathered like this again. They'd lost too many friends in this terrible war to take such things for granted. Letts tapped his mug with a knife to gain everyone's attention, and raised it high.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I propose a toast?"

Matt smiled as he released Sandra's hand under the table and stood with everyone else. He was proud of Letts. Like all of them, he'd come a long way. He'd earned his post as chief of staff and had developed the confidence that went with it. The main reason for that rose to stand beside him. Nurse Lieutenant Karen Theimer Letts, now Sandra's medical chief of staff, had once been rendered almost catatonic by their situation. Her recovery had inspired Letts to apply himself, and they made a good team. Karen's pregnancy was also beginning to show, and that had gained her an almost reverent consideration by the same rough men who might once have resented the depletion of the "dame" supply in the middle of the famine her marriage to Letts had made even more extreme.