Conventional wisdom would imply they were all too young for their jobs. The thought was a little intimidating, but Matt wondered if it was true. The old guys back home, commanding their rectangular dreadnoughts, hadn’t been doing so hot. It was their stupidity and shortsightedness, to a large degree, that had made Pearl Harbor such a disaster-and even possible in the first place. Matt didn’t want to think about the hoary old men in Congress who’d virtually invited the attack by allowing the Navy to wither to a point that it couldn’t credibly enforce their threats and policies. Maybe conventional wisdom wasn’t always wisdom at all.
He decided, experience aside, it was probably a blessing they were all so young. Particularly the Lemurians. There’d been numerous times when he’d had trouble dealing with older, more entrenched ’Cats. Saan-Kakja’s own sky priest, Meksnaak, was a prime example.
Nakja-Mur had been exceptional in many ways, but even he’d been a little difficult until his own Home was at stake. Matt knew it had been difficult for the old ’Cat. It was hard for the young ones, watching their whole world change with the exigencies of war, but they could at least comprehend change and feel confident they could absorb it, accommodate it, use it. It occurred to him then that if all the Lemurian leaders had been a bunch of stick-in-the-mud, geezer bureaucrats-like those back home-they’d all be dead by now.
“It’s a good thing they’re so young,” he whispered back to Sandra. “I think it’s made things a lot easier. And besides, it could be a very long war.” He saw her nod, and believed she understood more than he’d said.
“Please do sit,” Saan-Kakja said when the cheers and stamping feet subsided. Obediently, the crowd returned to their stools or cushions. The request was more than a courtesy. With everyone standing, no one could see her. “Tomorrow I must leave you,” she resumed, “and return to my own land. Colonel Shinya and I must oversee a replication, even an enlargement of what you have accomplished here; this ‘in-dustree. ’” She smiled. “Some may not like it. Maa-ni-la has been a refuge for many of the runaways, as you call them, from various lands, and there will be dissent among those who prefer the old ways.” Her eyes flashed and her chin rose slightly. “Their obstructionism will not be tolerated. Fear not.”
There was more cheering, and Matt realized he needed to talk to her again about her own security. They’d already learned that even Lemurians were capable of appalling treachery.
“Even when I depart, do not think Maa-ni-la has left you. Half my personal guard will go with me, to become officers and form training cadres in the new, changing ways of war, but many more of my people have arrived here since the Great Battle and I shall leave you over five thousands.” She looked directly at Matt. “Lead them as you will. My troops are your troops, and I have no doubt you will cherish them as your own.”
Touched, Matt bowed his head, acknowledging the compliment. And the responsibility.
“Soon I will return with even more troops, ships, and many new weapons. I look forward to ‘raa-di-o’ reports from your upcoming expedition, when we will know the enemy’s stance. Regardless, I am confident that if we seize this time that has been granted us by your valor and the Heavens above, when we bring our full, combined might against the scourge, we will stamp it out forever!”
Further cheers filled the hall, and, unnoticed at the far end of the table, Billingsly leaned toward Jenks. It was the first time he’d been ashore for an official function and he’d been haughty and uncommunicative throughout. “And still you do not consider them a threat to the Empire?” he hissed. “The force they are planning will be almost as large, and considerably more advanced than that of the vile Dominion that even now menaces our people back home.”
Jenks looked at him and blinked. “Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Billingsly. Of course I consider them a threat, but not at present. Look about you! These… creatures”-he’d almost said “people,” and what would Billingsly think then?-“are clearly preparing to renew their war with an enemy of potentially greater menace even than the Dominion. These Grik are possibly even more savage, if not as depraved.”
“They have a Roman priestess among them,” Billingsly reminded him darkly.
Jenks frowned. “I have heard that too, though I haven’t seen her. From what I understand, there is a difference. The Roman ‘faith’ as practiced by the Dominion is an abomination, and as much as our ancestors may have disagreed with the old version, they wrote that it became something entirely different on this world. If she is a priestess of the old version who got displaced here as did the others, her fundamental beliefs are not much different from our own.” Jenks smiled. “Besides, I have seen no temples or altars or any of the other trappings of the perverted faith. If she serves the Roman Church, as we know it, she certainly hasn’t gained many converts.”
“I implore you,” Billingsly said, with a hint of what might have been true sincerity, “with the child queen gone, the Americans and the bulk of their Army and Navy away, and much of their new construction incomplete, we would have our absolute best opportunity to rescue the princess and be on our way.”
Jenks’s expression hardened. “And then we would be at war with them, fool! Do you think we could take her without bloodshed? Do you think they would ever trust us then? I have given my word to accompany their expedition. I could not change that now, nor would I. You think them a threat? Very well. What better way to gauge that threat than by watching how they fight? I would much rather make those observations while they fight someone else than while trading broadsides with them!”
Billingsly’s face hardened as well, and he sat back in his chair. Around them, the festive atmosphere resumed after the speeches were done and the smells of unusual dishes reached them as servers came to the table.
“So be it,” he muttered to himself, unheard.
CHAPTER 6
July 1943
T wo weeks after Saan-Kakja and Tamatsu Shinya took their leave of Baalkpan in company with (now Lieutenant) Laumer’s small squadron, another, considerably larger force prepared to sail. Saan-Kakja departed amid sincere, exuberant fanfare, but though the turnout of well-wishers was even bigger this time, the mood was more somber. The Second Allied Expeditionary Force was not encumbered by any lumbering Homes-those would come later, when they were fully prepared and sent for-but the fleet was still impressive. Donaghey was Matt’s flagship, back under the command of a much recovered Commander Garrett. Tolson ’s refit was considered sufficient to allow her participation as well. The first two new steam frigates, with their fewer but more powerful thirty-two-pounder smoothbores, were fresh from the new fitting-out docks. A lot depended on them even though this was essentially their maiden voyage and shakedown cruise combined. Jarrik-Fas commanded USS Nakja-Mur, and Captain Jim Ellis commanded USS Dowden. Ellis would serve as second in command and commodore of the steam element of the fleet if it was detached for independent operations. Additionally, there were now seven former Grik Indiamen that had been razed and rerigged into single-deck corvettes. Observers found it difficult to believe that the far lighter, sleeker-looking ships, glistening with fresh black and white paint, had been reworked from ships originally belonging to their hated foe. The final consensus concerning designations-regardless how they were rated-was that since none of the ships were big enough to be considered “cruisers,” all were still destroyers, in a sense. The only difference it made was to morale.
It was an impressive force, considering all were heavily armed, crowded with Marines, and covered with stacked landing craft. Four relatively unaltered Grik ships (except for color) carried Lord Rolak’s 2nd Aryaal, Safir Maraan’s “Six Hundred” as well as extra field artillery, draft beasts, and other baggage. Ten large feluccas would serve as the eyes of the fleet and dispatch vessels. Achilles was also making final preparations for getting under way, her black coal smoke coiling lazily into the light morning air contrasting with the gray smoke of the Allied steamer’s oil-fired boilers. The reason for the more somber mood was that this force, at some point, would certainly make contact with the enemy for the first time since the Battle of Baalkpan. There was a sense of confidence that the fleet could handle itself, but no one knew what they would find. Had the enemy withdrawn, or been reinforced? Had the Grik also made unforeseen improvements? They already had crude cannon when they attacked the city. What other surprises might they have introduced since their last meeting? No one knew, and it was frustrating.