“We have neglected studying these almost mythical creatures long enough-on the islands, and apparently here as well. Perhaps they are yet more enemies, as we have always assumed, but just perhaps”-he glanced at Lawrence and blinked fondness-“they are more like him than we could have ever dreamed. We learn more about even the Grik all the time,” he added cryptically. He bowed to Courtney Bradford. “You will have your expedition. I want to make contact with these creatures. Perhaps we can even be friends, if they can forgive generations of violence most of us knew nothing about!”
“The only ‘expedition’ I want is back in the war!” Silva insisted.
“You’ll get that,” Letts said. “And before much longer.” Subtly, during the conversation, Letts and Spanky had turned toward Walker so they could stare at the miraculously vibrant… living ship. Silva joined them, and eventually, so did all the others. They were here to celebrate her resurrection, after all. Even Sister Audry, who’d done everything she could throughout the day to prevent any spiritual significance from being attached to the event, was moved.
“She still looks a fright, Spanky,” Silva said, “but you’ve done a swell job.”
“Everybody has, you moron,” Spanky replied gruffly. “Even you.”
Silva belched loudly. Seep had that effect on him. So did the local beer, which he’d begun to prefer. Actually, Dennis Silva belched fairly often, regardless. “Try to be nice to a snipe,” he grumped, “and what’s he do? Slanders and insults.” He shook his head. “Where’s Loo-tenant Tucker and the munchkin princess? I woulda figured they’d be here for somethin’ like this.”
Spanky McFarlane looked around. “Well, they were here, just a little while ago.”
“They went for a cool drink,” Adar supplied, “and perhaps they have retired for the night. It is quite late.”
“Yeah, well, me and Larry’d better find ’em and report in. I am one of the o-fficial pro-tectors of Her little Highness, after all, and I doubt Larry can stand it much longer without lickin’ her er somethin’.” Lawrence hissed at Dennis through his fangs, kind of a chuckle for him. “ ’Sides, Miss Loo-tenant Tucker’s prob’ly worn out from dealin’ with the little twerp all day!”
The others laughed. Not only did they know Silva was devoted to the girl and considered her anything but a twerp, but they knew Sandra loved the princess like a daughter.
“So long then.” Spanky grunted. “And good riddance. Come back and brag when you kill a super lizard with your teeth!”
“That’s the very next stunt on my list,” Silva called back, heading toward Pam. “And I’ll do it too, right after you build a battleship out of a beer can.” Reaching the dark-haired nurse, he crushed her in another embrace. “You run along home now. Ol’ Silva’s kinda tired. Won’t be good for more than three or four hours o’ labor, I’m afraid. I’ll be along directly!”
Pam giggled and moved away through the crowd.
“Mr. Silva?” asked a hesitant voice. It was Abel Cook. “May I accompany you, sir? That is, if you’re going to see Lieutenant Tucker and… the princess, I would like to join you. To say good evening.”
Silva belched at him. “Sure, I guess. What about Mr. Bradford, though? You’re kinda his caretaker now, ain’t ya? He’ll be skunked in half an hour with all the booze down here-Captain Reddy would have a fit! Bradford’s liable to puke on Adar or dance nekkid in the searchlight!”
“I’ll come right back, I promise!”
“Hmm. You better keep yer grabbers to yourself! I seen how you look at her. You go to gropin’ at Her Highness, me and Larry’ll eat you!”
“No, sir, Mr. Silva! Never…! I-”
“Oh, come on. If they went for a cold one, maybe they’re at the Screw. Neither one’s much for booze, but Pepper keeps some juice an’ such.”
They didn’t find them at the Busted Screw; nor were they at the Fem Box, as the female bachelor officers’ quarters was called.
“Say,” said Dennis, “I wonder where they’re at?” He wasn’t really worried, but he was growing a little annoyed-and anxious. “Maybe they went to see Sister Audry? She ain’t half bad for a gospel shark. Has some brains. Ever’body knows I’m as pious a critter as there is, but if you go jabberin’ religion at folks all the time, without a break, pretty soon they’ll tune you out-like a worn bearing. That, or they’ll get sick o’ hearin’ it squeal and replace it with a new one.”
“What did you say?” asked Lawrence, and Silva laughed.
The party had wound down considerably by the time they realized Sandra and Rebecca weren’t at the little hut Sister Audry kept near the fishers’ wharf. But Sister Audry wasn’t there either. “Now, this is startin’ to stink,” said Silva. “Only place left they might be is Big Sal, in the dry dock, seein’ Selass. She and Miss Tucker are pals.” He shook his head. “Or maybe they’re back where we started, oglin’ the ship some more. I doubt it, though. It is gettin’ late. Way too late for Miss Tucker to be sendin’ love letters to the skipper at the wireless shack. Must be at Big Sal!”
Unconsciously picking up their pace, the man, boy, and Tagranesi headed back toward the shipyard. They met a few revelers on the way, but Baalkpan was a weary city. There were so many wildly different projects under way, employing such a large percentage of the populace, even the all-night bazaar that had once been the center of Baalkpan social life had shrunk to a mere shadow of its former size. Those not actively engaged in the war effort still had to labor: fishing and doing the chores of everyday life for more mouths with fewer hands. Others hunted, as they’d done that day. In any event, what had once been a city that never slept shut down almost entirely after dark these days. Even something as grand as bringing Walker back to life couldn’t keep most from their bedding too long.
All that remained of the party at the dock were oil lamps and a few sozzled mounds lying on the planks. Walker ’s blower still rumbled, but there was no light aboard. There was clearly still a lot of electrical work yet to accomplish, and besides the spare bulbs they’d stored ashore before the battle, few of those aboard the ship had survived the fight and subsequent submergence. Still, even darkened, she was alive. Silva noted as they passed her that a wisp of smoke rose from the number four stack and stars shimmered in the heat plume above it. He grinned.
Big Sal wasn’t much farther, the once distinctive outline changed forever by the alterations under way. She was still lit and work continued aboard her. Keje was pushing her people relentlessly to finish the job so his Home might have water beneath her again. Silva knew the dry dock gave Keje the willies. Big Sal had often been flooded down for a variety of reasons, and she was built in something like a dry dock, but she wasn’t ever supposed to be completely dry again. For her to be totally divorced from her natural element as she now was struck Keje and most of his people as an unnatural thing, worse even than the perverse changes their Home was undergoing.
“Least there’ll be somebody there we can ask,” Silva muttered. They were crossing the old, smooth ramp once used by the PBY to get her out of the water. There were several other ramps here and there, but this had been the one closest to the shipyard.
Almost across, Lawrence stopped and his head jerked toward the water. “Dennis!” he hissed, using Silva’s first name. Usually he tried to say, “Mr. Silva,” but it came out mangled. The others noticed the sudden difference and recognized the significance. They stopped.
“What’s up, Larry?” Silva asked quietly.
“At the ’ater’s edge, there is acti’ity-and the scent o’ the ladies!”
Silva’s heart pounded in his chest. He’d been using his big gun as a kind of walking stick, and he slowly brought it up, peering hard into the darkness. There was no moon and almost no light, but suddenly he could see something outlined against the gentle gray wave tops that lapped at the ramp. “Those Imperial sons o’ bitches!” he seethed. “They’re swipin ’ the gals!” He looked quickly around. Apparently, they hadn’t yet been seen.