Straits of Hell (24 page)

“Ay, ay, Cap-i-taan.”

//////
Second Fleet
USS
Maaka-Kakja

T
he pounding she heard became part of her dream, something Governor-Empress Rebecca Anne McDonald knew often happened with any number of sounds and activities. It was something she'd grown accustomed to. But she'd also learned to tell when the influence was external, and whether it was something that required her waking attention. Oddly though, just then, she resisted leaving the pounding, pulsing fire dream that surrounded her younger self as she stood beside a bleeding Dennis Silva on USS
Walker
's burning, sinking fo'c'sle. Around them, the night flashed and moaned with roaring projectiles and tortured machinery, the dark was laced with tracers, and an entire city burned against the backdrop of the black jungle isle beyond. Before them, shattered
Amagi
hissed and crackled as her broken, flaming corpse settled into the sea. Amazingly, in spite of the danger she was reliving, that had been
unprecedented in her short life, and regardless of the gore-spattered face that stared down at her, a gap-toothed grin belying the obvious agony of a ruined left eye, “Princess Becky”—for that was all she'd been at the time—felt safe.

The pounding resumed, the
other
pounding, and Silva's grin turned mildly scolding. “Go on, li'l sis,” he said gruffly. “You gotta git. You an' Larry brung me the shell that sank that damn thing”—he nodded at
Amagi
—“an' you got more t'do.” He grinned again. “Me too. I'll be along d'rectly.”

Rebecca murmured an objection, but finally stirred in her bed.

“Your Majesty! Your Excellency!” came the urgent and probably repeated call from the passageway beyond the door to the suite she shared with High Chief Saan-Kakja. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. “I'm dreadfully sorry to disturb you,” the voice continued insistently, “but Admiral Lelaa and High Admiral Jenks beg you to come at once! There has been a . . . development regarding Task Force Eleven!”

Saan-Kakja was already sitting up in the pile of embroidered cushions she slept among across the compartment, blinking irritation. “Oh, do stop braying in the passageway like a great pregnant paalka!” Saan-Kakja demanded. “We are awake! Send in our stewards to make us presentable and bring us to life, and we will join the Ahd-mi-raals as shortly as we can!”

“Of course, Your Excellency,” came the muffled, apologetic reply, and Saan-Kakja blinked her mesmerizing eyes at Rebecca. “I do hope this ‘development' is not too dire, Sister,” she said, “but apparently, if our primary desire was to ‘get a rise' out of the Doms, we might have succeeded.”

“I think you just called High Admiral Jenks's assistant chief of staff a pregnant paalka,” Rebecca scolded lightly, then lowered her voice. “But it is too soon for Task Force Eleven to have
provoked
a response from the Doms. I fear it may have encountered one they had already prepared.”

•   •   •

“Very well,” Rebecca granted icily, after hearing the initial confused reports flooding in from Task Force 11, mixed with the occasional exasperated sigh and resentful glare from High Admiral Jenks. It was well
after midnight and apparently TF-11 was still closely engaged in a vicious running fight against a vastly superior force. She'd noticed as soon as she was fully awake that
Maaka-Kakja
was already underway and steaming at top speed. “If you must hear the words before you can bring yourself to propose a solution, High Admiral, you were right; I was wrong. Now what exactly is the state of our engaged task force, and what are we going to do to help?”

“The ‘exact state' of the task force is ‘desperate,' Your Highness. I can be little more specific than that, since Admiral Hibbs is unsure himself. He has no notion of how large the enemy fleet is, but is certain it is larger than his. We must assume the entire Dominion fleet has sortied. And there's cursed little we
can
do. At least until the dawn!” he added with mounting frustration, looking at Orrin Reddy who was reclining, grim faced, in a chair by the bulkhead. “No doubt you've noticed that the fleet is already moving toward the point of contact, but though that point is now moving in our direction, it remains over four hundred miles to the north! We will be closer at dawn, and can launch aircraft to support Task Force Eleven—or what's left of it by then,” he added bitterly, “but they will be near the limit of their endurance, flying into the wind, and will not be able to linger long. Other than that . . . ?” Jenks twisted his braided mustaches and let out a long breath.

“Allow High Ahdmiraal Jenks a moment to refocus his anger back where it belongs; upon the enemy,” Admiral Lelaa-Tal-Cleraan said softly, gently scolding her friend, then sipped monkey joe from a mug. Everyone else in the bustling “battle room” behind the bridge was drinking tea, even Lelaa's Exec, Tex Sheider, and she remained one of the few high-ranking Lemurians anyone had ever known who habitually drank the ersatz coffee of this world by choice. “The situation
is
confused,” she continued. “There can be little doubt, however, that the Doms have sortied a large percentage of the fleet they have been gathering so long, and unleashed it in our direction.” She glanced back at Jenks. “I consider it premature, perhaps even dangerous, to assume it is their
entire
fleet, but it is clearly substantial. It is . . . unfortunate that our own fleet was not consolidated to meet it, but it might be for the best. The damaging enemy air attack would've caught us equally unprepared and would probably have focused on
this
ship, had the fleet been together. Early reports on their new bombs are mixed regarding their
effectiveness, but I find it likely that
Maaka-Kakja
could have been seriously damaged, at least. I do not need to tell anyone here how great a blow it would have been to our entire effort in the Eastern Sea if Second Fleet's only carrier was destroyed before the real battle even began.”

“There is that,” Jenks grudgingly agreed. “Air power is our single greatest advantage. Without it, things are far too evenly matched for my taste, particularly with our supply lines so long and tenuous. But with dragons dropping bombs now . . . Our advantage is already diminished.”

“How dangerous are the bombs?” Saan-Kakja asked.

“There's two kinds of 'em, fragmentation and incendiary,” Tex Sheider supplied. “Small and light enough for Grikbirds to carry, neither is very powerful, with the one having about the same effect as a twelve-pound case shot. Lieutenant Ruik on
Simms
actually took a dud that hit his ship apart, and we don't have to worry about the Doms using the same kind of things in their cannon, thank God. Said there's some kind of clunky, Rube Goldberg inertial detonator inside that would go off if they tried to shoot one out of a gun. It's not percussion, but it takes a pretty good jolt. The other one's got a small bursting charge that spreads something like naphtha around. They ain't like our incendiaries, and burn out pretty quick—but ‘quick' can be plenty long enough on a ship. Those are the ones that did the most damage.” His expression turned grim. “We lost a third of the DD squadron, including
Finir-Pel
,
Mertz
, and
Theseus
, in the opening round. Ship of the line
Poseidon
caught fire bad enough that she had to be abandoned. She blew up later. Nearly every other ship was hurt to some extent, mostly in their sailing gear, which means the whole task force is running only as fast as it can steam. . . .”

“
With
the wind,” Lelaa added, “which gives the Doms the ability to control the engagement. Every one of their vessels seen is a sailing steamer, just like ours, which may finally answer a number of questions. . . . But the pertinent point at present is that with the wind in their favor, their ships are faster than ours. They've been lunging forward periodically and lashing at Hibbs's formation at will, all night. His gunnery remains superior and he's sure he has disabled a number of enemy capital ships, but his are suffering cruelly as well. Several can only barely keep up as it is, and if they fall out of formation . . .”

“They'll be mobbed under,” Tex finished for her. It was a habit they had that many recognized. Having been friends and colleagues so long, they tended to think alike to the point that they often spoke for each other.

“How soon can we know the size of the enemy fleet?” Saan-Kakja asked, but Jenks shook his head.

“With the dawn, at best. Hibbs says his task force has precisely four undamaged aircraft available. If any remain by daylight, he will send them up to see. Obviously, even if the sea has moderated sufficiently by then, he can't recover them underway. Perhaps they can reach us.”

Orrin grunted, making it clear what he thought the chances of that might be. The planes would have a tailwind, but after their scout and likely combat with Grikbirds and the enemy ships—he doubted any flier in Second Fleet could resist making an attack—they'd be low on fuel and probably damaged.

“And the Dragons?” Rebecca asked.

“They haven't rejoined the fight,” Tex replied, “but we have to expect they will when the sun comes up.” He shrugged. “They've got Task Force Eleven right where they want it, and they
will
try to wipe it out. Pull out all the stops.”

“My God,” Rebecca murmured.

Jenks stared hard at his Governor-Empress. “If the task force survives until dawn and Hibbs determines that the Dom fleet is insurmountable, you will be faced with a most dreadful decision, Your Highness.”

Rebecca's heart seemed to crack in her chest. “I know.”

“There is nothing to decide,” Saan-Kakja interjected. “And I am surprised at you, High Ahd-mi-raal Jenks,” she added. “This is a terrible thing. Another of many terrible things we have all faced in this war. Yet you allow your . . . aanoy-aance at my sister to focus your attention too closely on the immediate threat to Taask Force Eleven.”

Jenks arched an eyebrow. “Isn't that enough?”

“No. You look only at the small picture. What happens in the larger one? Do you really believe the Doms finally come out on a whim?”

“She is right, Haarvey,” Lelaa said gently. “We are sailors and spend all our time thinking about the sea and ships; fleets, and what they do. We sometimes forget to remember
why
.”

“Shinya,” Jenks said, realization dawning.

“Right,” Tex agreed. “There are such things as coincidences. I've seen enough of 'em to believe. But
people
don't cook 'em up, not in wars, and I don't think this is one.”

Saan-Kakja was blinking agreement. “Regardless how the fight began, or what kind of new weapons and Grikbird training the Doms now use, their fleet has come out. They did not come against Taask Force Eleven; they came against Second Fleet. And what is the
purpose
of this fleet? To support General Shinya's continent-aal campaign! The Doms would strike our fleet just now only to prevent it from that.” She paused. “It is my belief and counsel that the evil Don Hernaan has ordered this attack now only because he is poised to strike our weakened force ashore.” Her gold-and-black eyes narrowed. “And now that I have expressed my belief and rendered my counsel, I must insist that the time has come to reinforce General Shinya at last, with everything at our disposal, despite the illness that lingers in his camp. How many lives will we spare if his entire force and all our new friends at Guayak and Puerto Viejo are exterminated?”

“Nothing to decide, indeed,” Rebecca agreed, her small voice like stone. She looked at Jenks. “I've made two terrible mistakes. First, when I ordered you to divide your fleet against your better judgment. That was a foolish usurpation of authority rightly earned by and vested in you, High Admiral. This last year's events in the Empire of the New Britain Isles have left me easily frustrated by delay when it comes to discovering and eliminating vipers. My second mistake, however, was allowing you to talk me out of taking our relief forces ashore in a timely manner. You only counseled prudence there as well, and my personal presence no doubt colored your judgment, but
that
was the debate I should have pressed.” She took a long breath and clasped her hands behind her back. “You remain Commander in Chief East and must continue to look to the strategic situation, but these are my orders to you as your Governor-Empress, and there will be no debate. Every troop transport, cargo ship, and auxiliary of any sort that Second Fleet does not need for the battle to come will immediately turn for Puerto Viejo; there to off-load every soldier, Marine, every piece of remaining ordnance and equipment, and even their own armed crews to rush to the relief of Fort Defiance. God grant only that we are not too late. The remainder of Second Fleet will
continue on to the rescue of Task Force Eleven, and the
defeat
of the Dominion fleet now at sea. I presume you will begin by sending as much air support as possible in the morning,” she said, blinking encouragement at Orrin, “but how you do it is up to you with one exception, and the exception is in regard to the ‘dreadful choice' you referenced earlier,” she added bitterly. “Admiral Hibbs will not allow his force to be nibbled to death. No single capital ship will be left to be ‘mobbed under' by the Doms. Instead, if such becomes necessary, he will deploy an adequate rear guard to engage his pursuers in sufficient force to allow his faster ships to continue on, and break contact if possible.”

Jenks was taken aback, but nodded respectfully, knowing what that order had cost Rebecca inside, likely condemning so many to their doom. But he looked at Saan-Kakja, then back at Rebecca. “A number of those ships and crews belong to our allies from Baalkpan, the Filpin Lands, and the American Navy Clan. I remain unsure how this new union they are forming might apply, but I suspect that Saan-Kakja would be its most senior representative here.”