“Yes, sir. No fast-moving water or anything so, at first, I guess we keep using the method the Mice cooked up. The ‘brontosaurus merry-go-round. ’ ”
“Right.” Matt glanced at the precious watch on his wrist, then looked at Adar-almost apologetically, it seemed-as if he regretted taking over the meeting. “I guess that’s it then. Mr. Chairman, do you have anything to add before our guests are shown in?”
“Nothing for now. I do so enjoy having a plan. Let us speak with these Brits, as you call them, and discover whether anything we learn from them conflicts with our own priorities. I may have something to offer then.”
CHAPTER 3
A s always, Matt was happy to be back on the water. He sat comfortably in the stern sheets of Scott’s launch with Sandra Tucker snuggled tight against him, companionably quiet, ostensibly shielding herself from the occasional packets of spray with his larger form. Her mere proximity seemed sufficient to infuse him with a sense of well-being and optimism that was sometimes so elusive when he was alone with his thoughts. The launch moved through the light chop and the engine burbled contentedly while Matt gazed about the bay, memories of the battle still fresh in his mind. For once, the company and the quality of the day eased the pain those memories brought. His eyes lingered a moment on the two Imperial frigates moored near the fishing wharfs and he felt a twinge.
The Imperial liberty parties had generally behaved themselves, but there had been some incidents. Matt often met with Commodore Jenks, but their discussions were always short and to the point and Jenks invariably asked the same questions: “How much longer must we wait?” and “What progress have you made toward outfitting an expedition to return the princess to her home?” Matt’s answers were always the same as welclass="underline" “Not much longer,” and “Quite a bit.” The answers were lame and he knew Jenks knew it too. Sometimes Matt got the impression Jenks didn’t expect a different answer and he asked only so they’d have something to argue about. He was a weird duck and Matt couldn’t figure him out. He chased Jenks out of his thoughts and concentrated on enjoying himself.
Sandra was pleased on a variety of levels. She was glad she and Matt no longer had to hide their feelings. She remained convinced it had been the right thing to do, but their ultimately futile attempt to conceal their attraction had added even more stress to their situation. Now, even though their public courtship remained strictly correct, the feel of his large hand unobtrusively enfolding hers seemed comforting and natural. It was amazing how restorative such simple, innocent pleasures could be. The day had a lot to do with her mood as well-their situation always seemed less grim when the sky didn’t brood-but she was also pleased with the progress one of her patients was making.
Norman Kutas, quartermaster’s mate, was the coxswain today. After the battle, she wouldn’t have given odds he’d ever even see again, much less handle a boat. He’d taken a faceful of glass fragments on Walker ’s bridge, and though she’d worked extra hard to get them all out, the damage had frightened her. But Norm was tough and his eyes were were still intact. Norman would be scarred for life, and those scars were still pink and angry, but he could see. It bothered her that she hadn’t been able to save Silva’s eye, but in his case there hadn’t been anything left to save. At least his empty socket was healing well. Once again she’d been amazed by the healing powers of the Lemurian polta paste.
Courtney Bradford, Jim Ellis, Spanky, and the Bosun were in the boat as well, but they seemed equally charmed by the pleasant day. Either they just weren’t inclined to speak, or they were allowing Sandra to treat her most important patient for a while in the best way she could at present. By mutual consent, apparently, all the men knew that a day on the water with his girl was a dose their skipper needed.
Inevitably, however, someone had to break the silence. They were in the boat for another reason too, after all. Just as inevitably, that person was Courtney Bradford.
“I say!” he practically shouted over the noise of the engine, “the military equipment is all well and good, but have they managed to salvage anything interesting at all?” he asked. He’d turned to face Matt and had to hold his ridiculous hat on his head with both hands.
Matt shrugged. “Not sure what you mean by ‘interesting,’ Courtney, but they haven’t gotten far into the hull yet. No telling what’s in there. We’ll see.” Bradford turned back to face their destination. Not far away now, the huge pagodalike structures of four Homes protruded from the sea, as if the massive vessels had sunk there in a square. The tripod masts were bare, and massive booms lifted objects seemingly from beneath the sea between them. Matt knew the Homes were sunk-in a sense-having flooded themselves down to within thirty or forty feet of their bulwarks. As they drew closer, they saw there was still more freeboard than Matt’s old destroyer ever had when fully buoyant. Courtney’s question had ruined the moment, but not in an entirely adverse way. They were all anxious to see what had been revealed within the cofferdam formed by the Homes. At last, they’d see what was left of Amagi.
Kutas throttled back and the launch gently bumped Aracca ’s side. Cargo netting of a sort hung down from above and they carefully exited the boat and climbed to the deck. Tassana, High Chief of Aracca Home, greeted them with a formal side party and full honors as they’d evolved among the Lemurians that were technically independent of Navy regulations. Her short, silken, gray-black fur glowed with the luster of healthy youth, and around her neck hung the green-tinted copper torque of her office. Her father had been High Chief of Nerracca, and when that Home was brutally destroyed by Amagi, she became a ward of her grandfather, the High Chief of Aracca. She was also his only remaining heir. When he died in the Battle of Baalkpan, she was elevated-at the tender age of twelve-to take his place. Lemurians matured more quickly than humans, but she was still considered a youngling even by her own people. She’d been through an awful lot and was clearly aware she had much to live up to, but Matt suspected she’d do all right. Her father’s blood ran in her veins and she had a spine of steel. She also had a lot of help. Keje had practically adopted her, and a better tutor in seamanship and command didn’t exist. Already, Keje loved the tragic child as his own, and Tassana adored him as well. In fact, she had quite a serious case of hero worship for just about everyone present, since they’d all been instrumental in avenging the death of her kin.
As always when he stepped aboard one of the enormous seagoing cities of the Lemurians, an awesome sight greeted Matt. The main deck, with the polta fruit gardens lining the bulwark, was normally a hundred feet above the sea, and three huge pagodalike “apartments” towered above it like skyscrapers. The massive tripods that supported the great sails or “wings” soared another two hundred and fifty feet above the deck. Larger than the new Essex -class aircraft carriers Matt had glimpsed under construction so long ago, Aracca was double-ended, flat-bottomed, and built of diagonally plank-laminated wood that was six feet thick in places. He was always impressed by the incredibly tough, sophisticated design that ensured that she and others like her would last for centuries upon this world’s more hostile seas. Looking at Aracca, he couldn’t imagine any natural force overcoming her. He vividly remembered how vulnerable her daughter Home, Nerracca, had been to ten-inch naval rifles, however.
After the ceremonial greeting, the youngling High Chief embraced Matt. He knew she felt great affection for him and he certainly returned it, but hers always made him feel a little awkward. He couldn’t convince himself he deserved it. Tassana hugged Sandra next, then Spanky and Courtney. Kutas had stayed with the boat.