"He didn't kill him, sir," he hastened to add. "In fact, I think it was more an accident than anything." He almost smiled. "I heard Mr. Ellis was beating the shit out of him, if you'll pardon the expression. But Kaufman did shoot him. In the leg." There was a pause while the lieutenant's words sank in around the table.
"Go on," Matt ordered harshly.
They told how the mutiny had proceeded, and of Kaufman's obsession with Ceylon. Jim Ellis lapsed into fever and they put into Tjilatjap for fuel—only Tjilatjap wasn't there, and they told of the horrors they saw.
Keje stiffened in his seat. "Chill-chaap? This Amer-i-caan speaks of
Chill-chaap?" Larry Dowden had excused himself, and now he hurried back in with a chart that showed South Java and the waters nearby. Nakja-Mur and the Sky Priest fairly bristled at the way he spread the chart across the table, condensation rings and all, but Keje and Adar had prepared them somewhat, so they didn't cry out in protest. Brister was looking at Keje when he put his finger on the South Java port of Tjilatjap. "Here, sir," he said.
"Gone," muttered Keje. "Chill-chaap is gone." He spoke to the other Lemurians in his own tongue. Nakja-Mur rose to his feet and shouted something at Keje, then continued shouting at everyone in the compartment. "He is . . . excited," explained Keje in a subdued tone, barely audible over Nakja-Mur's rant.
"Well, tell . . . ask him to control himself! We must hear what else these men have to say!"
"I will try, Cap-i-taan. But forgive him . . . us. Chill-chaap is nearly as large as Baalkpan. It was one of the oldest colonies, and the only one on Jaa-va that remained friendly to us. Many thousands of people—our people—lived there." Keje turned to Nakja-Mur and spoke in soothing tones. Slowly, the High Chief of Baalkpan eased into his seat. But his rage had only been contained, not extinguished. A moody, uncomfortable silence filled the compartment, and the quiet, after Nakja-Mur's outburst, was particularly profound.
"Lieutenant Brister," Matt prompted.
"Sir," continued Brister after a last look at their guests. "Tjilatchap, or Chill-chaap, is gone. Nothing left alive. And it looked like the people there were eaten, and not just by scavengers."
"My God," gasped Sandra.
"Yes," Keje growled. "Did I not tell you? We are mere prey to them." He looked at the nurse. "You asked once why we threw them into the sea." He shook his head.
Brister cleared his throat and resumed his tale. With Mallory's help he brought them through the storm and the discovery of the plane. Then he spoke of the monsters.
"Grik," Keje snarled.
"How many ships?" Matt asked.
"Three, sir."
Matt looked at Keje. "They can't have been the same ones we tangled with. It was at least two weeks later and hundreds of miles apart!" He turned back to Mallory. "What happened then?"
Ben described the hair-raising effort to get the plane off the beach.
Between the three of them again, they told how they ultimately fought clear of the "monsters" and finally flew back to Mahan.
"They just left you?" Bradford asked incredulously. "Without a boat?"
"Yeah. Even if we'd changed our minds, it wouldn't have done any good. We had plenty of motivation. Those creatures—I've never seen anything like 'em, sir. They were . . . pretty scary."
Matt nodded. "We've seen them too, and they are pretty scary. I congratulate you all on your escape."
"Thank you, sir," they chorused.
"Did the lizards see you fly?"
"Maybe," answered Mallory. "We could still see them when we took off. Why?"
Matt smiled at him. "Nothing, Lieutenant. Don't worry about it. It might've been a handy surprise for later, that's all."
Mallory looked at his hands. "Sorry, Captain. I didn't think of that.
Not till later. We saw half a dozen more of their ships while we were looking for you, but we were pretty high and far. If they heard us, I doubt they saw us."
"My God," murmured Bradford. "As many as nine ships, then. Perhaps a dozen, if the ones seen in the strait are still others." He looked at Keje, who seemed stricken. "Your enemy is here at last, and in force. We've not a moment to lose!"
Matt held up his hand. "I'm afraid we must lose a few more moments, Mr. Bradford. Lieutenant Mallory? What happened next?"
"Kaufman wanted us to fly to Ceylon, and we didn't say squat, but `Yes, sir, will do.' We took on all the fuel we could and then came looking for you."
"I saw Mr. Ellis before we left," Brister said. "The nurses were all fine and were taking good care of him." He looked at Sandra. "Nurse Cross said they were keeping the faith. We talked a couple of minutes, and Mr. Ellis said . . ." He turned to Matt. "He said to tell you he's sorry—but, Captain, it wasn't his fault!" Perry's gaze was emphatic. "Anyway, they probably all know we went looking for you by now. At least the ones that aren't crazy will have some hope."
Keje cleared his throat. "Excuse me," he said. "These flying men bring momentous news. We learn Chill-chaap has been sacked and the Grik are indeed rampant, worse than we'd even feared. The dark time we've dreaded seems at hand. Now is when we will learn if all we've worked for, for generations—our colonies, our culture, our very way of life—will survive, or be cast to the winds once more. This . . . is important to us." The irony of his understatement wasn't lost. "I would think it would be important to you, our allies, as well. Yet you seem more concerned with this ship, this Mahan. What is Mahan, and what, or where, is Say-lon?"
Matt took off his hat in the awkward silence. He wiped sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief and slicked back his greasy hair. "Forgive me, my friend. I am concerned, and this news means our preparations are even more urgent. The significance of Mahan, however, is this." He looked around at all of them, but rested his gaze on Keje and Nakja-Mur. "Mahan and Walker are the same. They're just alike, and she has the same capabilities we have. What's more, her people are my people, and I'm responsible for them. I'm obligated to help them any way I can, just as I'm obligated, now, to help your people to the best of my ability. The reason Mahan should concern you, however, besides—like you said, we're allies—is there's another ship just like this one, apparently steaming as fast as she can directly toward the Grik. What if they take her? You say they're mimics; they copy the works of others. How long to copy Mahan?
A while, surely. Maybe a generation or two. But what of the meantime?
How will they use her? At the very least, they might figure out ways to counteract our superiority." He stopped and looked around. "We've got to get her back." He paused. "Or destroy her."
Nakja-Mur rose to his feet and, after regarding them all with a steady gaze, he began to speak. Keje translated as he did so. "You Amer-i-caans, you know us now. You may not know us well, but we've kept no secrets from you and our desperation is clear. Yet we know almost nothing about you. At long last, tell us where you come from. If you have two smoking ships, why not summon more? The flying boat outside is clearly made of metal, and yet it floats! It flies! With but three Amer-i-caans on board, it is a match for three Grik ships! We've never seen such wonders! Surely you can do anything! You can save us from the Grik! Please, summon more of your people. Together, we could destroy the Grik menace completely, and our two peoples could live in peace for all time!"