The Aryaalan seemed to clear his thoughts as he quickly knelt before the captain. “Yes, Lord?”
Matt understood that much of the People’s speech, and he rubbed his eyes with his good hand and peered down at the t was high time he learned to speak without an interpreter. “Adar,” he said, “please try to explain to Lord Rolak that he’s not a slave. I know what he did—what he risked and what he lost—in order to keep his word. I don’t doubt his honor or his courage, and no one else should either. I admire it. Tell him that. Then tell him I’d be grateful for his service, and the service of all those who followed him and fought so well at our side. Not as slaves or vassals, but as friends.”
Matt carefully lowered himself until he was kneeling on the ground. As Adar spoke, Rolak lifted his gaze until it rested heavily and searchingly upon Matt’s face. With an encouraging smile, Matt extended his hand. Rolak looked at it, unsure, until Adar quickly explained the human custom. Then Rolak slowly, almost tentatively, extended his own hand. Matt grasped it between them and pumped it up and down.
Seeing Matt’s difficulty in rising, Shinya and Sandra helped the captain back onto the stool, where he sat, puffing slightly and watching the Aryaalan.
Rolak stood and brushed sand from his knees. “We are friends then, yes,” he said, talking to Adar. “But that in no way absolves me of my honor debt. If anything, it makes it a greater burden. Sometimes friendship can be the cruelest slavery of all, but in this case I accept it gladly. Tell Cap-i-taan Reddy he is my lord, as Fet-Alcas once was, and my sword, my life, and my honor are still his, but they are freely given as a friend and not as a slave.”
Matt listened to Adar’s translation and sighed. It was probably the best compromise he would manage for now, given the dire nature of Rolak’s original pledge, and he was grateful that, however it happened, the alliance had grown still more.
“Now,” he said, holding himself as still as possible while the pain of his exertions subsided, “that’s over with. I’ve heard your reports, but this meeting is to get everyone on the same page regarding our current situation. Mr. Shinya, would you describe the disposition of the enemy?”
“Yes, sir.” Shinya shifted and spoke so his voice would carry to all those present. “As far as we can tell, they’re gone. Our original estimate of their embarked force seems to have been . . . a little off, and several hundred of them, at least, escaped at the end of the battle. There is no indication that they retreated in any semblance of order, though.
They just fled. I would recommend that when the Catalina flies in from Baalkpan this afternoon, Lieutenant Mallory be requested to fly a quick search pattern, fuel permitting, to ensure that the enemy has not reconstituted himself nearby.”
“Do you think that is likely?” Keje asked. He spoke very carefully because he, like Matt, was trying to remain as still as he could.
“It’s possible. I do not think it likely, however.” Shinya paused and his brow furrowed in thought as he tried to decide how best to explain himself. Before he could, Courtney Bradford spoke up.
“If I may, Lieutenant?” Shinya nodded and the Australian cleared his throat. “Well. First of all, when the Grik finally broke, it was quite spectacular. Quite spectacular indeed! They just ran in all directions, like bees! As if they’d entirely lost their minds. Although I wasn’t, um, actually in the very thickest of the fight, I saw the end from what might have been a better vantage point than most. Their demeanor couldn’t have been more different from one moment to the next. It was as though one just pulled a cord and flipped a lied. “We saw it once aboard
Big Sal
and again, well, yesterday. I don’t think it’s a phenomenon we can feel certain enough of to base any strategy upon.”
“What
do
you think it is?” growled Chief Gray.
Bradford shrugged. “Some kind of massive, instinctual panic attack that renders them totally incapable of concerted efforts—such as war. Be lovely to turn it on and off again at will, but so far the only things I’ve seen do the trick are massive doses of automatic weapons, heavy artillery, and having their assault stopped cold by what were, at least briefly and locally, superior numbers that attacked
them
with mindless ferocity.” He beamed at Lord Rolak.
Matt frowned. “So, in other words, pretty much the same thing that has stopped every other attack in history.”
“Indeed. But the
effect
was still significant, don’t you think?”
“It was certainly significant,” Shinya confirmed. “And if we could learn how to create it at will, even strategic perhaps.” He turned to Matt. “But Mr. Bradford is right. We cannot ‘plan’ for it. We have fought the Grik enough now to know that it does not always happen. In fact, sometimes their ‘rout’ can make them even more dangerous.” He was remembering the losses they’d taken in the hold of
Revenge
when they scoured the last of the Grik from below. Slowly he brightened, his hand still resting on the pommel of the cut-down katana/cutlass Sandison had given him. “But they are gone from here now!”
“Good,” said Matt with a genuine smile. “At least the ‘land’ lizards no longer seem a threat.” There were a couple of chuckles from the destroyermen nearby. “What’s the condition of the task force?”
“All is well, Cap-i-taan Reddy,” Keje said, but then he put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes. Adar continued for him. “No serious damage yesterday, or in the fighting with the Grik ships. Ammunition is depleted. We expended more than half of what we brought. As you know, weight and storage is not a problem, only production. We brought what we had. As more is made in Baalkpan, it will be sent.”
Matt nodded. “What about those feluccas we couldn’t account for?”
Rick Tolson spoke up. “We found one, Skipper. Hard aground in the shoals around those crummy little islands off the southeast coast of Madura. Everybody got off okay, but the ship was a total loss.” He shook his head. “Lucky we didn’t lose a dozen of ’em in there. No sign of the others. Lizards must’ve got ’em.”
“Poor bastards,” muttered Gray. Matt glanced at him, then looked at the bay where
Walker
had finally backed clear of the river. Even as he watched, her horn tooted exultantly, and Matt grinned in spite of himself. Dowden must have known he’d be as nervous as a cat. He had every confidence in his exec’s seamanship, but he still felt tremendous relief.
“Well, now that it’s clear our exuberant Mr. Dowden has saved my ship from further exposure to freshwater, I guess I’ll report that she came through the fighting with no damage except for some scorched paint, some busted glass, and the loss of one of her propeller blades.”
The Lemurian sea folk all nodded seriously at the news. They’d never seen
Walker
’s propellers, of course, but they’d seen drawings of the magical things that moved the iron ship so swiftly. Also, they’d seen the propellers on the PBY and knew the principle was the same. Matt had have thrown spears at it or started a new religion. They certainly wouldn’t have acted like “Oh, yeah. Pretty neat.
We
can’t make one, but it makes perfect sense.”
The fact that their culture—at least that of the sea folk—revolved around the reality of moving air, or wind, must have given them a pretty good grasp of the idea that air had substance whether you could see it or not. There were enough creatures that flew to prove flight was possible too. So from there, the notion that people might fly in a machine of some sort wasn’t as big a stretch to them as it probably would have been among Bronze Age humans. Anyway, it was just another example of how sophisticated Lemurians could sometimes be. He didn’t know why it surprised him anymore.
“That brings up another matter,” he said, addressing Jim Ellis. “I want
Mahan
to make for Baalkpan as soon as possible. We don’t have a dry dock, of course, but there are facilities there. Whatever we decide to do next,
Mahan
’s in no shape to fight. If we can get her to Baalkpan, at least we can start to change that.” He paused and grimaced. “Before she leaves, though, I want one of her propellers if we can manage it.”
Jim whistled. “That’s a tall order, Skipper. How are we going to get at them? Hell, we can’t even go in the water.”
Matt was relieved that Jim didn’t show more resentment at the prospect of crippling his ship further. He hated to ask it of him, but he didn’t see any choice. If
Walker
couldn’t run on two engines, it would seriously hamper any plans they made for further offensive operations.
“I don’t know, Jim, but we’ll think of something. I’ll get with you after the meeting and we can hash it out. We’ll work out a schedule to get
Mahan
as seaworthy as possible too. Now”—he looked back at Rolak—“what’s going on in the city? I see guards on the walls, but no one’s answering the door.”
“Civil war,” growled Rolak through Adar. “Warriors came out during the night, warriors loyal to me. They told of fighting throughout the city and . . . horrible deeds.” He cast down his eyes. “It seems that by trying to save my city’s honor, I may have caused its destruction. None have come out since morning, though, and I don’t know what’s happening now. My best guess is that the king’s loyalists have retaken control of the main gate.”
“What happened?” Matt asked gently.
Lord Rolak sighed. “As you know, when Fet-Alcas refused to allow us to strike the enemy rear, as we agreed, my forces and those of Queen Maraan swept north through the city and came out through the north gate. We had to fight to get out even there. Apparently, word spread of the specifics of the disagreement and many were appalled not only by the king’s treachery but also by the fact that they had been deprived of participating in such a great battle. I know it may be hard for some of you to understand, but to watch such a fight from behind stout walls and do nothing, regardless of the honor at stake, would be difficult for Aryaalans to bear. Fet-Alcas has never been a popular king. He assumed the throne upon the death of his brother, who
was
popular and widely respected. Even, I think, in B’mbaado.”
Safir Maraan nodded. “Tac-Alcas was a worthy opponent,” she agreed without reluctance. “We warred with him often and he was difficult, difficult, but my father respected his courage, as well as his honor. As did I. Tac-Alcas would never have betrayed us as his brother didt>
“We must talk to them, nevertheless. Whoever’s in charge,” Matt observed.
“Indeed. Many of my warriors who would wish to join you still have families within those walls. None of them are bound by my friendship with you, although most will consider themselves so. I will storm the city myself, if necessary, to get their families out.”
“Hopefully that won’t be necessary,” Sandra said in a fervent tone.
Heads nodded in unison and Matt cleared his throat. “Well. That’s pretty much how things sit, I believe. The way I see it, we have, almost in spite of ourselves, won a major victory here. It was costlier than it should have been and we’re not in as good a shape as we’d hoped to be at this point. But that doesn’t change the ultimate strategy of our campaign. We’ve got to keep up the pressure and move against Singapore as quickly as possible. The intelligence we gained from the captured charts suggests the enemy has only an outpost there so far. While we can presume that the force we destroyed here probably at least stopped off at Singapore, there’s no indication in the charts that they dropped off any sizable force. That being said, I expect that’s probably where the ships that escaped the battle in the bay retreated to, but they left their troops behind. With the addition of Queen Maraan’s troops, and those of Lord Rolak, we should have sufficient forces to evict them—if we act before they reinforce.” He looked at the gathered faces and wished again that he had some inkling of their thoughts. “Therefore, our priorities are these: first, bring the B’mbaadan and Aryaalan troops up to speed as quickly as possible.” Matt let his gaze rest on Queen Maraan and Lord Rolak in turn. “That’s going to take considerable cooperation from both of you. Your people are proud warriors and they may resist training in the new tactics, particularly since their instructors will be ‘mere’ sea folk.”
“They won’t resist,” Queen Maraan assured him. “Not after yesterday.”
Matt hoped she was right and he tried to hide his skepticism. He knew how difficult it had been for Europe to accept the lessons of modern war that Americans learned during their own Civil War. “Second, I want every felucca in the fleet either transporting supplies from Baalkpan or scouting the coastlines for any further incursions by the enemy. If they’ve established other outposts—at Tjilatjap, for example—we must know about it immediately. We’ll also reconnoiter toward Singapore. Rick Tolson and Kas-Ra-Ar will assemble a small squadron of the fastest craft around
Revenge
for that purpose.” He looked at Rick. “Don’t push too hard. They have to expect us to check them out, but I don’t want them to expect an attack.”
“Understood, Captain.”
“I also want the wounded out.” He looked speculatively at his battle line commanders. “We should move them aboard a Home. Decide among yourselves which one it’ll be.” Matt had no doubt they would choose
Fristar
. Even now it was clear that the High Chiefs of the other Homes were avoiding Anai-Sa. His Home had lagged throughout the Battle of the Bay and had shown no initiative with her fire the following day. Adar told him that he doubted she’d fired a dozen times—as if Anai-Sa was hoarding his ammunition. “Whoever it is,” Matt continued, “must deliver the wounded and return here as quickly as possible with “I also ast, after the battle in the bay, but everything moved so quickly and besides”—he shrugged and gestured at the destroyer, which had completed her turn and was slowly approaching the dock—“I was just so glad to see you and that old ’can, the last thing I wanted to do was argue.” He frowned. “But that was before yesterday.” He glanced at Sandra for support and then looked to see if anyone else was in earshot. There was a general commotion and bustle all around, but the only ones close enough to hear were Gray, Rolak, and Chack.„ Currently, however, the Bosun and Matt’s new . . . whatever he was . . . were deep in discussion, with Chack translating for them. He sighed.