Into the Storm (33 page)

Adar was quiet for a moment while he thought. Of course Keje was right; it just didn’t
seem
right. He sighed.

“I apologize, my lord. It’s just . . . ” He’d been gazing at the chart while he spoke, his eyes taking in the shapes of the islands he knew so well, when he felt he’d been physically struck. “The words!” he managed to gasp. “The words are not in the Ancient Tongue!”

Keje saw it was true. Some of the island names were the same, but there was much more writing than he remembered and it was totally unfamiliar. “Their own language?” he speculated. Adar could only nod. It must be. The Amer-i-caans still watched them, and he suspected they were becoming impatient. He would have been. “Ask them where they come from. Maybe they will even tell us.”

Adar cleared his throat and spoke the ancient words. As soon as Shinya translated, Captain Reddy peered at the chart himself. Adar knew their home couldn’t be anywhere on the scroll he saw. The Scrolls of the People were more comprehensive. Less than a third of the known world was laid out before him, and he had at least passing acquaintance with all the places shown. The meaning of his question was clear, however, because Matt put his finger on what Adar recognized as their current position and then paced away, far across the wheelhouse, to stand on the opposite side. He pointed at the deck, looking intently at Adar with his small green eyes.

“They are from the East! Beyond the world, beyond even the Great Empty Water, perhaps! The way no vessel can go!”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Brother,” Keje said with heavy sarcasm, “this vessel goes wherever it wants!”

 

The humans were intrigued but not overly concerned by Adar’s behavior. They assumed that he’d recognized the chart, and an example of commonality had been found.

“Ask them where they’re from,” Matt instructed. There was muttered conversation in their own language, and finally Adar pointed over the water at their ship. Matt nodded. “Of course, we suspected as much. It certainly seems self-sufficient enough for long stretches away from land. But your people must have some place, on land, where such things are built?” He spoke directly to them, even though Lieutenant Shinya was obliged to translate everything he said. “Wood only grows on land and other things—copper, cordage, things like that—can only be found ashore. Your people must have settlements where you can make repairs?” All four Lemurians looked at him for a long time after Shinya finished speaking. They seemed hesitant to answer.

Matt understood that they might not want just anyone to know where their settlements were, but he and his crew had saved them from the Grik. If they wished them ill, that was not the simplest way to show it. This logic was apparently not lost on the Lemurians, because finally Keje leaned back over the chart. Adar said something, but the Lemurian leader shook his head and placed one of his clawed fingers on the map.

“Jesus Christ!” blurted Gray. “Borneo!”

Several crewmen on the bridge muttered in surprise. Matt looked over the shorter Lemurian, where his claw touched the chart. “Well,” he said, “I believe we’ve been there once before.” He straightened and looked meaningfully at the Bosun. “Balikpapan.”

He turned back to Keje. “You have damage,” he said, and then gestured around him. “We have damage too, and need supplies. Besides, the Grik may return. We’ll help you get there, if you have no objection.”

Matt led the Lemurians on a quick tour of the rest of the ship. The only attractions he avoided were the engines and the main armaments. They passed the guns and torpedo tubes several times and, plainly, the Lemurians were interested, but despite Bradford’s advice, Matt thought they shouldn’t focus too intently on the fact that
Walker
was a warship. And besides, what they didn’t know about her capabilities, they couldn’t tell to others. The same was true regarding the engines. It seemed to him that the Lemurians were sophisticated enough not to attribute everything they didn’t understand to magic. But it wouldn’t hurt to let some things remain mysterious. Particularly when that mystery protected the only two advantages
Walker
had in this strange, screwed-up world: her speed and her weapons.

Inevitably, not all the Lemurians were content to let
Walker
’s secrets unfold with time and trust.

Jarrik-Fas insisted that they ask the Amer-i-caans about their amazing weapons that could destroy the Grik from afar with such speed and efficiency. Keje was reluctant, since he could tell their hosts were less than willing to discuss it now. Ever since he’d seen the chart, however, Adar had assumed Keje’s pragmatic skepticism. The reverse was true for Keje. That the Amer-i-caans had Scrolls of their own meant they almost certainly had some understanding of the Heavens. To him, that was reassuring. As different as they were, it was a sign that they were perhaps not all that different after all. Adar was in a mood to find fault, though, it seemed.

“I dislike secrets. If they would avoid speaking of their weapons, what else might they conceal?” he asked as they neared the amidships deckhouse again, with its squat four-inch guns, trained fore and aft.

Keje blinked exasperation. “A short time ago you were displeased that they display their Scrolls for all to see, and now you accuse them of being overly secretive? Brother, you contradict yourself.”

Adar grunted and showed his teeth with a youngling’s chastened grin. “I suppose you’re right, my lord. Perhaps I was dismayed by the way they display their Scrolls as if just anyone can understand them. What struck me hardest, in all honesty, was that perhaps among them anyone can. Particularly if they’re written in their own tongue. No one likes to think their life’s work is un-needed, even by another species.”

“Perhaps not all understand their Scrolls. Any one of them may be your counterpart, for all we know,” Keje speculated. “But your knowledge and value are not limited to the Scrolls. You’re a Sky Priest, after all. I doubt they could all be as conversant with the Heavens as you. It’s one thing to read a Scroll. It’s another to
know
the meaning. Yet another fascinating thing to learn about these creatures, in time. Besides, if they are as the ones who came before . . . of course they have Scrolls of their own!”

“Does that mean they are . . . gods?” Chack almost squeaked.

“Of course not!” snapped Adar. “There is but one God, silly creature! Even the ‘others’ were merely beings, as ourselves, who brought the wisdom of Heaven. They are to be exalted, but not worshiped. They admonished as much themselves. These creatures are wise as well. As wise as the others? Who is to say, but still merely beings.”

“Whatever they are, I’m glad they like us.” Keje grinned.

“I still want to know more about their weapons,” Jarrik insisted.

“Oh, very well.” Keje relented. “Ask if you must, Adar, but be discreet. I am usually the worrier, but after yesterday I’m inclined to trust these ‘Amer-i-caans.’ For now, I’m content to let them keep their weapons’ secrets, as long as they use them on our behalf.” His warning spoken, he had to admit he was as anxious to learn about the amazing weapons as they. He listened intently while the translations took place.

 

“They’ve asked about the guns, Captain Reddy. They want to know how they work. How they destroy things far away with only a puff of smoke and loud noise.”

Matt sighed. “They were bound to ask. I’m surprised they waited this long. Hmm. Tell them the purpose is much like their big crossbow batteries—to throw a large bolt very far. Only we propel the bolt with an explosion, uh, expanding gas—smoke, instead of spring tension. The smoke throws the bolt very far, faster than the eye can see.” He didn’t want to get into a ballistics lecture then and there, so he temporized. “A lot of the destructive force of the bolt is caused by the speed alone. Tell them it’s very involved and I’ll be happy to tell them more when we can converse more easily. Oh, also tell them how fascinated we are with their weapons, and look forward to learning more ourselves.” The creatures stared at the number two gun as they stopped almost beneath it. The four-inch hole with its spiraling lands and grooves gaped wide at the muzzle.

They rejoined the rest of the Lemurian party, who were still being fed and studied by the crew. The fraternization remained good-natured, and Matt was relieved to see everyone getting along so well. The camaraderie of their shared victory probably helped, but he suspected his destroyermen were happy to find anyone who wasn’t hostile after all they’d been through.

“If you need any assistance, we have carpenters and shipfitters aboard,” said Captain Reddy. He looked at Sandra before continuing. “Our medical division also remains at your disposal.” Sandra nodded in agreement.

Keje blinked assent when Shinya told Adar what the captain had said, and he replied, “I would like to leave one with you so we can better learn your speech. I believe, with better understanding, the friendship between us will grow and become . . .” He grinned. “Less inconvenient.” He gestured Chack forward, and the young Lemurian stepped up with some hesitation. “This one I will leave. Chack-Sab-At. He is not only a worthy person, but I’ve just recently discovered he’s a brave and skillful warrior.”

The statement was made without irony, and Chack couldn’t decide if he was more surprised by the honor or the words of praise. Or was it just an excuse to get him away from Selass? For some reason, as likely as he’d have considered that a few days before, he was no longer sure. He was uncertain about too many things lately. “I won’t fail you, my lord,” he murmured.

“He’ll be welcome,” Matt said through Tamatsu.

“Excellent. Now, noble as young Chack is, he is small recompense for your generosity. Is there nothing we can do for you? You mentioned supplies? And repairs?”

“Our supplies are fine for now, although if you can spare some of your fruit, we’d like to try it.” Matt gestured around and shrugged. “As you can see, we don’t have space for gardens. The only other thing that might ease my mind is if you can tell me where to find the black substance you use to coat your stays and shrouds and seal your seams. Is it available where we’re going? At your settlement?”

Keje was silent as Tamatsu interpreted, but then looked about with surprise. “You have leaks? I was not aware you had a use for gish. Of course. We carry much, just for that purpose. And yes, it is abundant where we go.” He made a chittering sound that Matt now recognized as a chuckle. “At the trading land, it bubbles from the ground!”

When Tamatsu finally interpreted Keje’s words, via Adar, for the first time he could remember, he saw the captain’s lips spread into a genuine grin.

“Well! In that case, why don’t we all have another glass of tea?”

 

The next week involved backbreaking activity for some, as work parties constantly plied between
Walker
and the Lemurian ship, and abject boredom for others, as the destroyer described slow, fuel-efficient circles around the plodding behemoth. Only the number four boiler was lit, but it provided more than enough steam for the monotonous six-knot circuits. With only two wings
Salissa—
or
Big Sal
, as almost everyone called her now—could average only three or four knots herself. If
Walker
went that slow, in the long swells of the Java Sea, she’d barely have steerageway and would roll her guts out.

To Matt, it seemed that Chack was constantly nearby, always out of the way but always there. Watching. In reality, he spent more time with Sandra, Garrett, and Sergeant Alden. Matt had no time to teach him English, and certainly none to learn Lemurian, but Chack was learning fast from his other acquaintances, and Matt understood him better each day.

Some of the men spent a lot of time on the ’Cat ship as well. Bradford practically lived there, and the English lessons were well under way. A lot of the men came back using Lemurian words for things—which drove the Bosun nuts. He never complained about Chinese or Filipino words, but for some reason he took offense to the “jabbering away like a damn cat-monkey.” Only after Matt quietly explained that he wanted the men to learn the language did he relent.

Chack slept in the forward berthing compartment with the crew and ate what they ate and generally got along quite well. They’d adopted him, like a pet or mascot at first, but as he learned to speak English they began to realize he wasn’t a pet, and that although he was small, he was probably as strong as Silva. His status was blurred. Not a pet and not a destroyerman—but he was becoming a shipmate.

In contrast to Chack’s treatment, Shinya still faced open hostility, although his presence—and continued existence—had gained a meager level of acceptance. Strangely, that probably had as much to do with Silva and Alden as anyone. The two men didn’t like the Jap, but a growing respect was evident. Matt hoped the men would lighten up eventually. Lieutenant Shinya was proving valuable, and not only as a translator. When not engaged as such, he often toiled with Sandison in the workshop on the condemned torpedoes. He wasn’t a torpedoman, but he loved machines. Bernie actually
did
seem to like him. He certainly appreciated his help. If anyone could ever crack the ice between Shinya and the crew, the engaging torpedo officer from Idaho would be the one.

On the bridge, Matt glanced at his watch and looked at Lieutenant Garrett. “Sound general quarters, if you please.”

“Aye, aye, sir. General quarters! General quarters!” the gunnery officer repeated in a raised voice. Electrician’s Mate 3rd Class Mike Raymond activated the alarm and put on the headset at the talker’s station, plunking a helmet on his head while the alarm reverberated through the ship. Chack, standing nearby, snatched a helmet and put it on as well. He looked slightly comical since it was much too large and covered his catlike ears. He grinned happily and blinked in excitement. Matt learned in one of his evening sessions with Bradford that Lemurians conveyed much the same meanings by blinking that humans did with eyebrow/facial expressions. It was like emotional Morse code. He wondered if they were born with the ability or had to learn it. At least it made more sense than Gray’s theory that they all had a nervous tick, but he had no idea what the blinks meant, and except for their grins, Lemurian faces remained opaque and stony to his perception.