Maelstrom (4 page)

“I don’t like staying behind,” Jim confessed, “and I don’t think you should go. The stability of the alliance depends on you too much.”

“Maybe once,” Matt admitted grudgingly, “but I think we’re largely past that now. Everyone knows what’s at stake. Mr. Letts will be chief of staff in my absence—he’s developed a genius for diplomacy, it seems. If anybody can keep everyone on the same page, it’ll be him and Nakja-Mur. You’ll control all naval forces. I still hope to get Keje to leave
Big Sal
as a floating battery and go with me, since he’s been to Manila before. Pete’ll have overall command of land forces. I’d like to take him with me too, but with Lieutenant Shinya’s issues still unresolved . . .” He sighed. “Besides,
Walker
’s the fastest, so she’s the one to go. She’s my ship; therefore, I go with her.
Mahan
’s your ship, and she needs you here.”

“But I’ll just be sitting around,” Jim protested. As far as they knew, the enemy believed they had only one destroyer left.
Mahan
would be fitted with a new dummy smokestack, to replace the one she’d lost, and painted with
Walker
’s number so any spies wouldn’t suspect Baalkpan’s weakened condition, or that
Walker
had gone away. Mostly, the enemy must never suspect there were, in fact, two American destroyers. Unless they got reinforcements, it was the only ace they held. Matt had given orders that
Mahan
should steam about and be seen, but never risk herself or venture far from the mouth of the bay.

“Besides, you won’t be just ‘sitting around,’ ” he argued. “The captured ships’ll need refitting, and there’s the new construction to consider. I expect you to use them to try to get as many of Queen Maraan’s people off B’mbaado as possible. I promised her as much, and besides, we’ll need them. If Haakar-Faask, her general she left behind to lead them, is as good as he seemed, we’ll badly need him as well.”

Jim grunted. “All right, Skipper, if you say so. I still don’t like it.”

“Well,” said Sandra, somewhat haughtily, “now that that’s settled, I guess I deserve some explanation why you’re leaving
me
behind, Captain Reddy!”

Matt groaned. “We’ve been over this before. Karen did a good job while we were away, and now we’ve got our other two nurses, Pam Cross and Kathy McCoy, back. But there aren’t going to be any battles where we’re going. You need to continue your work here. We have Pharmacist’s Mate Jamie Miller, and you know he’s turned into a fine surgeon in his own right. He’s certainly had enough practice! Besides, there’s still that other . . . issue to consider.”

He was referring to the increasingly acute “dame famine.” As far as the human—and rambunctiously male—destroyermen were concerned, there were only four human females in existence. One, Karen Theimer, was clearly attached to Alan Letts, and Matt expected Letts to approach him on the subject before much longer. This was the source of considerable stress. Rumor had it that a few men had actually formed . . . romantic relationships with the local females. One such relationship, between the irrepressible (acting) chief gunner’s mate Dennis Silva and Chack’s sister, Risa-Sab-At, was apparently more than rumor. Silva and Risa had done everything in their power to make it
seem
more than rumor, at any rate. Chack had been livid, but recently, strangely, Matt had noticed a visible thaw between Silva and Chack. Perhaps they’d sorted out their differences without violence this time, or maybe Chack had finally decided Silva and Risa were just joking after all. Whatever. He’d rather not have the distraction of females on this trip if he didn’t have to. Out of sight didn’t always mean out of mind, but if there were no women aboard, there shouldn’t be any fights over them. Matt remained convinced there must be other women somewhere on this Earth; there was too much evidence of previous human/Lemurian contact, and even human/Grik—witness the enemy ships built along the same lines as eighteenth-century British East Indiamen. But until they found them, they had to tread carefully. That was why he and Sandra never openly acknowledged their own mutual affection.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. In the dim light, Karen Theimer and Alan Letts were walking arm in arm.
Sooner than I thought
, Matt speculated resignedly.

“Good evening, Captain . . . uh, Captains,” Karen said as they exchanged salutes. “Good evening, Lieutenant Tucker.”

“Good evening, Karen. Mr. Letts.”

For several moments everyone just looked at one another. Alan seemed uneasy. He acted as if there were something he wanted to say, but couldn’t find the words. Matt had a rough idea what they’d be, and he clasped his hands behind his back and leaned forward expectantly. Letts wasn’t ordinarily the tongue-tied type, so this ought to be good. Suddenly the young supply officer jerked and gasped through clenched teeth. Matt glanced down in time to see Karen’s right foot reappear next to her left.

“Uh . . . Captain Reddy, I, uh, have . . . I mean, I’d like to have a . . . ah, word, sir. I mean, if it’s convenient.” He glanced quickly at Karen, probably afraid she’d kick him again.

“Of course, Mr. Letts. We were just discussing the plan for our expedition and Baalkpan’s defense. Perhaps you’d like to add something?”

“Uh, no, sir, not just now.” His eyes flicked to Sandra and Jim. “Actually, sir, what I need to talk to you about falls more in the line of . . . well, a private . . .” He stopped, unable to continue.

Jim Ellis leaned forward wearing a menacing expression. “My God, Mr. Letts!” he exclaimed, shifting his gaze to the nurse. “Ensign Theimer, if this rogue has behaved indecently toward you, I’ll see he’s punished severely!” He motioned with his head toward the water of the bay, full of terrifying creatures their own world had never known. “And I mean
severely
!”

The whites of Letts’s eyes became visible in the dark. “Oh, no, sir, Mr. Ellis! I assure—” Karen kicked him again, surprising him completely. He hopped quickly away from her, uttering a soft moan. In spite of her earlier confrontational mood, a giggle escaped Sandra’s lips.

“Just spit it out, you big dope!” Karen commanded, rolling her eyes.

“Captain!” Alan squeaked. “We want to get m-m-married!” he finally managed.

Matt waited a moment, looking at the mismatched pair. Letts with his fair, peeling skin; Karen, dark-haired, lovely, slightly taller. He nodded. “I assume you’ve thought this through?”

“Yes, Captain, we have,” Karen replied. “Ever since the AEF set out, and we remained here, we’ve worked closely together.” She shrugged. “Somehow I fell in love with the guy.” She looked at Sandra. “I know you’re the head of my division, Lieutenant, and I should have spoken to you first, but we saw you walking out here together and . . .”

Sandra nodded. “Perfectly all right, Karen. I have to agree with Captain Reddy, though. Are you sure you’ve thought this through? You want to do this . . . now?”

Karen nodded sadly. “We wanted to wait until things settled down, but with everything going on . . . well, there might not be a better time.”

Sandra sighed. “I understand. Very well, I’ve no objection. Captain?”

Matt rubbed his chin. “You know, Mr. Letts, some resentment’s likely to arise out of this—what with the dame famine becoming more and more, ah, acute? If you ladies’ll pardon me, I’ll be blunt. Our men have gone literally months without female companionship, when, before we left the Philippines, to do so more than a few days would have been . . . extraordinary. A lot of pressure’s building up. If not for the unending combat against the enemy, the elements, or the deterioration of the ship to help them . . . vent that pressure, I’m not sure we could’ve kept them under control. It’s my hope, God willing, that someday we’ll explore this new world. If that occurs, it’ll be my very first priority to discover whether other humans exist here.” He paused thoughtfully. “It’s my belief they do. But first we have to survive the coming battle, and maybe the whole damn war. That’s a lot of ‘ifs.’” He waved away their concerned expressions. “That being said, I don’t object either, I guess. I just want you to be sure this is what you want to do. It might be . . . difficult.”

Jim chuckled. “I’d say that qualifies as one of those British understatements, Skipper. I also think if I were in their shoes, I wouldn’t give a damn right now.” He frowned. “Whatever time we’ve got left, I say make the most of it. Captain?” Matt nodded.

Jim Ellis beamed at the couple. “So. You want a big, fancy church wedding? Or are you going to elope?” He laughed at their confused expressions. “Run along, children,” he said. “I’m sure our illustrious supreme commander’ll be happy to perform a suitable ceremony directly.”

After they were gone, Jim let out a breath and turned to Matt and Sandra. “You know,” he began conversationally, “everything I just told those kids about ‘making the most of it’ and ‘living while you can’ goes double for you two.” Only the darkness hid Sandra’s sudden, deep blush.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Matt sputtered.

Jim laughed out loud. “Oh, c’mon! You honestly think you’ve kept your little secret? Wow. Patty-fingers on the bridge wing, moon-eyes whenever you’re around each other! Queen Maraan thinks you
are
married and asked me if you have a
child
!” Ellis laughed again at their stunned expressions. “Keje finally believes you aren’t already ‘mated’ and thinks you’re a couple of idiots. Self-sacrificing deprivation isn’t the norm with ’Cats.”

“Is it really that obvious?” Sandra asked in a small voice. “We’ve both tried so hard!”

“Who else knows?” asked Matt through clenched teeth.

“The Mice may not have figured it out,” Jim drawled dryly, referring to the two enigmatic, almost belligerently insular firemen, and their female Lemurian protégé, “but I wouldn’t bet money.”

“Damn.”

Jim held up his hands. “Hold on, Skipper. Before you think your little act was a waste of time and the men’ll resent you—like you warned Letts—let me tell you something. I told you everybody knows you’re nuts about each other, but they also know why you’ve been acting like you weren’t. They appreciate it, Skipper! They know what it’s cost you, because they know how it would feel to them. I do too. Your crew admires you immensely. They’d follow you into hell. They already have!” He shook his head. “
Mahan
’s the same way. Everyone sees the weight on your shoulders, both of you, and they know you’ve denied yourselves the one thing that might help lighten the load. And they know you’ve done it for them.” He grinned. “Even if they still think you’re a couple of dopes.”

Matt was embarrassed. Not for how he felt, but because the men had seen through his deception. He felt as though he’d let them down. He looked at Sandra and saw tears gleaming on her cheeks, the lights of the city reflected in her shining eyes. “Would you excuse us for just a minute?” he asked in a husky voice.

“Sure, Skipper, I could swear somebody called me.” Turning, Jim walked down the pier toward the ships.

Tentatively, Matt put his arms around Sandra and drew her close. For the first time he didn’t notice any pain in his shoulder, wounded at Aryaal, at all. She began to shake, and he knew she was crying. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be,” she scolded. “It was the right thing to do.” She raised her face until she was looking into his eyes. “It still is,” she told him firmly.

“I know.” Then he kissed her. It was a light, gentle kiss, and their lips barely touched. He didn’t dare make more of it. Still, it was enough to send an electric shock clear to the soles of his shoes. Finally, wistfully, retreating from their embrace, they began walking back toward the glare and racket of the feverish repairs. “There,” he said softly. “Maybe that’ll tide me over a little longer.”

“I guess we have a wedding to arrange.” Sandra sighed, wishing it could be their own.

Nakja-Mur lounged on his favorite cushion on the broad western balcony of the Great Hall of the People, apparently taking his ease. He often did so on clear evenings, watching the Sun slowly descend from the sacred Heavens into the impassable jungle beyond the bay. Sometimes, when the light was right, and his mood and eyelids were adjusted just so, he imagined the mighty orb quenching itself in the very bay. Many of his people had often watched him thus, equally content, at the end of a day’s honest labor, or the beginning of a night’s. They took comfort from his comfort, as he did from theirs, because it represented stability, prosperity, and, above all, the promise that they could continue to live their comfortable lives without want, fear, or change. Those had been happy times. Times he’d thought would continue throughout his life and reign as Baalkpan’s High Chief. They were the only sort of “times” he’d ever known, and he’d taken them for granted. But that was before the Amer-i-caans came, and change became the norm, a necessity. That was before the War.

The Amer-i-caans didn’t
bring
the war, of course, although some had argued they did. Many of those were long gone, having fled to “safety” in the Fil-pin lands, or just generally eastward in their huge floating Homes. Most who now remained were committed to the fight: the fight that, long as the odds were, they wouldn’t have had the slightest chance of winning if the Amer-i-caans hadn’t come. The People of Baalkpan would probably have been slaughtered before they even suspected war was upon them.

But still, when he could, he continued to take his evenings on the balcony of the huge wooden edifice encompassing the trunk of the mighty Galla tree. The tree was so massive, it continued to soar through the ceiling and high above before branching into a dense canopy that dwarfed the bulk of the Great Hall below, as well as every other structure in the city. He’d sit there and view the city: the tall pagodalike structures housing many families, just as those aboard the seafaring homes had traditionally done. Larger structures, with many levels, sheltered Baalkpan’s various industries: ropewalks, chandleries, looms, block makers, coopers . . . industries supporting Baalkpan’s primarily maritime economy, and her trade with the seagoing Homes. They’d once been a source of employment, prosperity, and pride. Now greatly expanded, and with the new industries the Amer-i-caans had instituted or improved, they represented the only hope of salvation for Nakja-Mur’s Home.