Into the Storm (29 page)

“But how?” asked McFarlane wonderingly. “I mean,
how
?”

“How . . . any of this, Spanky?” Matt gestured vaguely around. “It should make it easier to communicate, though I doubt many of the men know more Latin than Lemurian. But I don’t know how any more than you do. That’s one of the things maybe Bradford or Lieutenant Shinya will find out.”

Courtney Bradford, Lieutenant Shinya, Lieutenant Tucker, and the rest of the security detail had remained behind on the Lemurian ship and would stay for the rest of the day, with orders to learn as much as they could and render any possible aid. Once it was clear that his people had nothing to fear, Matt had decided to return to
Walker
. There was little he could add to the discussions, since he knew virtually no Latin, and with their now common enemy abroad in such unprecedented numbers—an enemy they now had a name for—he didn’t want to be separated from his ship if the Grik returned.

“Finding out about the Grik was valuable, but frustrating. We still don’t know very much. I don’t think the Lemurians do either. They’ve never been attacked in such force before, though.”

“They sure seemed appreciative for what we did for them,” muttered Gray, and then he grinned. “Once that Adar fella came to, he jabbered up a storm.”

“You understand some Latin, don’t you, Bosun?” asked Dowden.

Gray smirked. “About enough to know that’s what it is when I hear it. My mother was Catholic and she made me learn a little. Spanky should know more, though. Both his parents were Catholics.” His eyes twinkled. “And he sure took up with enough good Catholic Filipino gals!”

“I’m Catholic,” confirmed Spanky, narrowing his eyes at the Bosun, “but as far as understanding Latin, it might as well be Greek to me.” He grinned sheepishly. “I never even tried to pick any up.” He frowned. “’Course, I never would have figured that little Jap could
speak
it!”

Gray turned to Matt. “Yeah, Skipper, what about that? I nearly joined Adar on the deck when he opened up. You think it’s a good idea to leave him over there? I mean, he may have given his parole and all, but he’s still a Jap. And how the hell does a Jap know Latin?” he grumped.

“Beats me,” admitted Matt, “but Bradford knows it even better, and I guess he’ll keep an eye on him. Besides, I think he’s sincere about his parole,” he added guardedly. “What possible advantage could he find in betraying us, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” said Gray darkly, “but he’s a Jap. That’s all the reason he needs to betray us.”

 

Matt and the rest of his senior personnel were waiting for the launch when it drew alongside. He was anxious to hear what the rest of the boarding party had learned. As they came aboard, however, he quickly realized a few were missing. Bradford presented himself to the captain, although he didn’t salute. He looked tired but excited.

“Where’s Lieutenant Tucker?” Matt demanded immediately. “And Lieutenant Shinya and the two gunner’s mates?”

Bradford made a shooing gesture. “They’re perfectly fine, I assure you! Lieutenant Tucker has become engrossed in things medical and remained behind to assist with their wounded—as I’m sure you’ll remember giving her permission to do.” Bradford’s face darkened. “They have quite a lot of wounded, I’m afraid. Perhaps half their people—and as many as a quarter killed—many of them children and the very old. The fighting must have been horrific, sir. Horrific!” He fumbled in his shirt pocket for a scribbled note. “Here’s a list of supplies Miss Tucker would like sent over.” Matt took the note and handed it wordlessly to Alan Letts. “In any event,” continued Bradford, “the Jappo volunteered to remain and translate—extraordinary, that!” His eyes grew large. “Why ever in the world a young Jappo would want to learn Latin is quite beyond me, but I shall surely ask him! Yes, indeed! Oh, well, those two strapping lads—Silva, I believe, and . . . the other one—stayed behind to protect Miss Tucker, and the Jappo, I suppose, although they’re in no danger, goodness, no! The United States Navy represented by USS
Walker
and all her people are quite popular and appreciated just now!”

Matt wasn’t happy that Sandra had remained behind, but he had to admit she was in good hands if trouble arose. He was less sanguine about Dennis Silva’s ability to refrain from starting trouble, however. “Very well,” he said grudgingly.

“Were you actually able to talk with them? I mean conversationally?” Dowden asked.

“Well, yes, after a fashion. My Latin is slightly rusty—not many people speak it now, you know—but I’ve kept it up fairly well. It’s virtually a necessity for my less professional pursuits. Did you know nearly every plant and creature has a Latin name? Of course you did.” He gratefully accepted one of the precious Cokes and took a sip. “Ahem. Well, there are some differences, mostly in pronunciation. Frankly, the way their mouths are shaped, I’m astonished they can make human sounds at all. I did discover they learn their Latin from a written source—which makes sense. Otherwise, it would probably have become incomprehensible over time, passed down word of mouth.”

Matt started to ask what written source, but Lieutenant McFarlane spoke first. “How long do you think they’ve been speaking it?”

“I don’t think one could say they speak it, per se, as a language at any rate. Only a small percentage understand it at all, and those seem confined to a certain caste, or sect. Their society is segregated into several such groups, based on labor distribution, similar to the differentiation between your deck-apes and engine room snipes, but to a much higher degree.

“As best I can tell, there are three major castes, or ‘clans,’ among them, although it’s a bit more complicated even than that because—” Matt held up his hand and made a winding motion as if to say “get on with it.” Bradford looked sheepish and nodded. “Well, first you have the . . . I think ‘wing runners’ might be the most accurate translation. They’re the ones controlling the masts and sails, much like ‘topmen’ would have done in our own sailing past. Then they have the ‘Body of Home’ clan—which is what they call their ship, by the way—
Salissa
Home. I’ve no idea what a ‘
Salissa
’ is. Perhaps it means ‘Home of our People,’ or something like that. It may be their tribe.” He blinked and rubbed his nose. “The Body of Home clan is the most numerous, and would be roughly parallel to ‘waisters’ in days of old. They’re the ones who perform all the chores and duties required for everyday life: fishing, gardening, hull repair, et cetera. It’s usually from this clan that their leaders arise, by the way. The third caste is the navigators or, to be more precise, ‘Sky Priests.’ There are very few of them, but they have a unique status. Their religion is all wrapped up in the semi-deification of the sun, the moon, and the heavens inclusively—which is not all that surprising, I suppose. I didn’t have time to delve too deeply into their theology, of course, but I get the impression it’s somewhat vague.”

He looked at them and smiled. “The heavens are certainly important, not least because of their reliance upon the sky for navigation! There’s much more to it than that, I’m sure, but you see? That’s why their Sky Priests are taught Latin!”

Matt shook his head and wondered if he’d missed something. He was becoming used to Bradford’s stream-of-consciousness way of communicating, but sometimes he missed the thread and it could be tiresome. He cleared his throat. “And why was that again?”

“Well, I don’t know what they use as a general written language, or even if they have one at all. But one thing that chap Adar made perfectly clear was how surprised they were that we could speak the Ancient Tongue of the Sacred Scrolls themselves!”

“And what exactly are these Scrolls?”

“Why, I suppose they’re much like our Bible! Complete with an exodus myth and admonitions to behave! I gathered from his few references that it is very Old Testament in nature.”

“I take it, then,” Matt said, trying not to let his impatience show, “that somehow these Scrolls are written in Latin?”

Bradford looked at him as he might a dull pupil in a classroom. “Of course they are! That’s the whole point, don’t you see? Not only are they a Bible, of sorts, they’re also charts and navigation aids as well! That’s why the priests must learn to speak a language that’s even more dead here than it ever was back home.”

“Prob’ly why there’s so few of ’em,” Gray put in with a snort. Bradford glared at him.

“It also raises an intriguing question,” said Letts. “The Latin makes it clear they’ve had contact with humans at some time in their past. We already suspected the, ah . . . Grik had. Judging from their ships, it was within the last few hundred years. The question for the Lemurians is when did it happen? I’m not sure it matters in the grand scheme of things, but my impression was that none had ever seen or heard of human beings and we were as big a surprise to them as they were to us. Did they get Latin from a Latin—like Romans or something? Or was it some guy, like Mr. Bradford here, just passing through who taught it to them for a hoot?”

“That’s an interesting point. I’d like to have the answer to that question myself,” Matt said. He shrugged. “Partly, I admit, because it
is
a fascinating question, but mainly because it may make more difference than you realize, Mr. Letts. When they learned it, that is. I agree it probably wasn’t in their living memory, but if it wasn’t too long ago, maybe, somewhere, there are still other people like us to be found. If so, finding them is going to be increasingly important.” He cleared his throat. “You may have noticed the men’s reaction to the Lemurian females?” There were thoughtful nods. “As time passes, certain . . . frustrations are going to become more acute. If it’s possible there’re other people in this world, we’re going to need to find them—and not just because of that. If the Lemurian/ human contact was thousands of years ago, though, that possibility seems more remote. Besides, if that’s the case, it might create complications beyond the obvious.”

“Indeed?” replied Bradford. “How so?”

“Look at it like this. Hundreds of years ago, maybe more, somebody wrote these Scrolls, or taught one of them Latin so they could write them down. They’ve based their spiritual beliefs on those writings. Out of the blue, strangers show up, deliver them from their enemies, and speak the sacred tongue. All this may not have sunk in yet, and if only a few of them speak Latin, it might take a while. But when it does, we might be faced with a decision.” He looked at the faces around him, all staring intently back. He sighed. “They might think we’re
gods
!” he said quietly. “What are we going to do then?”

 

The items on Sandra’s list had been brought over—needles and catgut for stitching, mostly. There were many, many wounded, and most had deep slashes, although there were a few arrow wounds as well. Those were the ones that concerned her most. She could handle stitching slashed flesh and binding superficial cuts, but she was very afraid to go fishing around inside the unfamiliar creatures trying to dig something out when she didn’t know their anatomy.

She knew she would have to, though. The only treatment the Lemurians seemed to know for battle injuries was to apply the same viscous paste she’d seen on their leader. She had no idea what it was, but it apparently had certain analgesic and antibacterial properties. It might even be better than sulfanilamide. Whatever it was and however well it worked, it couldn’t stanch blood loss or repair muscles and sinews hacked in two. Learning to deal with so many casualties at once had apparently never occurred to them—just as fighting such a battle hadn’t. She hoped, however, that if the paste worked as well as they assured her through Lieutenant Shinya it did, very few amputations would be required.

It was slight consolation, looking at the sea of bodies stretched before her in neatly organized, blood-soaked rows. She was just a nurse. She was a very good nurse, but up until recently, she’d been a peacetime nurse who’d never faced anything like this. She’d taken it upon herself to learn more about her profession than required and she felt competent to assist in most surgical procedures, but until just a few days before, she’d never dealt with actual battle casualties. Now this.

The severity and variety of the wounds left her appalled. She knew that modern warfare often inflicted even more ghastly wounds, but usually at a distance. The idea that enemies could stand face-to-face and hack each other apart to produce wounds like those she saw made her skin crawl like the sight of a bullet wound would never have done. She was in so far over her head that she felt her composure and her previously unshakable confidence beginning to slip. With sudden clarity, she thought she knew precisely how Matt must feel, caught up in events far beyond what his training and experience had prepared him for. He’d done a pretty good job, she reflected, even if he didn’t know what he was doing. Somehow he always managed to act as though he did. That might work well in matters of leadership, but it wasn’t the best approach when it came to medicine, she thought wryly. Or was it?

Adar and several apprentices hovered nearby, talking with Lieutenant Shinya as she sewed. Many other Lemurians, young and old alike, watched her work intently. Besides her efforts, however, there was virtually no other treatment under way. She finished suturing a long gash in a young Lemurian’s leg while it stared at her unflinchingly with large, liquid eyes. She stood and tried to wipe hair from her eyes with her forearm. It was covered with sweat and she only managed to paste the loose hair to her face. Without a word, an uncustomarily attentive Dennis Silva poured alcohol on a rag and handed it to her. She began wiping blood off her hands and trying to get it out from under her fingernails. The harder she tried to get it all, the madder she got.

“Lieutenant Shinya? Would you be kind enough to signal the ship and ask Captain Reddy to send Pharmacist’s Mate Miller and Ensign Theimer over to help? My God, there must be two hundred or more I haven’t even seen yet!” She paused, considering. “Also, please ask Adar why none of his people are helping. They may be unaccustomed to this kind of medicine, but all I’m doing is sewing them up.” She gestured around. “And I know they can sew!”