“That is all very well,” Keje said. “She can float and she can steam, but what will she fight with, at need?” Spanky looked at Campeti to answer.
“Uh, well, there’s good news and bad news. The numbers one, two, and three four-inch fifties are ready to go back aboard. Even made a new, thicker splinter shield for number one outta Jap steel.” He looked at Rodriguez. “Your guys’ll have to wire ’em in to the gun director, which, thank God, never even got wet.” Rodriguez nodded and Campeti went on. “The number four gun and the three incher on the fantail are practically junk. We can save the tubes and breeches, but that’s about it. No way can they be ready in thirty days. Same with the torpedo tubes and mounts-not that we have anything to stick in ’em. Three and four were already gone. We can make the number one triple mount work now, if we swipe parts from number two, but without torpedoes, what’s the point? I say we leave ’em off for now and fix ’em at our leisure. Who knows? Maybe someday we’ll have some torps.
“I do have a little good news. All the old girl’s machine guns survived. That gives us two thirties and two fifties to start with. Add the two fifties we fished up from the PBY and all the ammo the skipper’s bringing that Ellis found, and we’re actually better off there.”
“What about putting some of the Jap guns from Amagi on her?” Spanky asked.
“Yeah, I was coming to that,” Campeti said. “We’ve got just about all Amagi ’s secondaries ashore now, and most are in decent shape. There’s a fair amount of ammo for ’em, too. Some was wet, but some was in ready lockers above the waterline.” He shrugged. “Some cooked off in the fire. Anyway, the only ones I know we could tie into our fire control are the five and a halfs. They have about the same velocity as our own guns, according to what Shinya told Bernie, but they’re way too damn heavy to stick on Walker. The dual-purpose four-pointsevens are just a little heavier and only a little slower. They might work-at least in local control. They’re the best bet, actually. They were mounted higher up and we’ve already recovered more ammo for them than Walker ever carried. If Brister can get the aft deckhouse rebuilt in time, we could mount one of those suckers right where number four used to be.”
“You said they’re slower, but with us feeding the four-inch fifties black powder, that’s not so, is it?” Spanky asked.
“Not right now,” Campeti defended, “but we have to standardize on what we have the most of. ’Sides, Mr. McFarlane, hope springs eternal. We still haven’t got the new propellants sorted out, but we will someday. Then we can tie ’em all together.”
“What about the antiaircraft stuff?”
Campeti looked thoughtful. “We might stick a few of those Jap twenty-five millimeters on the old girl, just for hoots. They’re kinda clunky and don’t seem good for much. They’re not heavy, though, and we’ve got ’em. Lots of bullets, too.”
“Do it,” said Letts. “I want the skipper to have as much firepower as we can give him.”
Ben Mallory had been murmuring something to Tikker during the exchange. He was utterly exhausted, having flown all day. Captain Reddy never did order him not to fly, but the Strakka had him grounded for now. By the time the storm was past, Ajax would surely be out of range. “I got an idea,” he said suddenly. All eyes turned to him. “Yeah,” he said, thinking fast, “I got a swell idea. When you get the ship all put back together, what’s going in that empty space where the torpedo tubes used to be? I know the searchlight tower’s there, but what else?”
“I don’t know,” Spanky confessed. “Maybe those popguns Campeti was talking about.”
“Why not give her one of the Nancys!” Ben said triumphantly. “Skipper’s always going on about recon,” he said a little smugly. “Let’s give him some!”
Spanky, Letts, Adar, and Keje all looked at one another.
“Would a davit lift one of those cockeyed contraptions of yours?” Letts asked.
“Sure! They don’t weigh much. Might have to rig an extension boom. But with all the weight we’re saving, even with the Jap stuff you’re adding on, there’ll be plenty of margin for a plane, fuel, spares and such as well!”
“And I guess you just happen to know somebody who’d volunteer to fly it, too?”
“Well… sure.” Ben grinned.
Letts looked at Adar, then shook his head. “Great idea, Ben, but not you. We need you to train pilots, not go tear-assing off on your own. Besides, don’t forget what Mr. Ellis found. What would we do about that without you?” Ben slumped, but brightened again at the prospect of an expedition to Tjilatjap. Tikker grinned hugely and his tail swished expectantly. “Not you either,” said Letts. “As our only other combat-experienced aviator, you’ll command Big Sal ’s air wing, or squadron”-he shook his head-“whatever you’re going to call it.”
“Then who?” Ben and Tikker demanded simultaneously.
“You said Ensign Reynolds is competent to commence independent operations. We’ll ask him if he’d like to volunteer.”
“This is all very excellent, but this discussion has strayed somewhat,” Adar said. “You have convinced me that Walker will be ready. Good. What else must we do? There are other issues at hand.”
“Well,” said Letts, “ Big Sal will soon be ready for sea. The new frigates too, as soon as we can fuel ’em. They’re finished. We’ll put the planes we have on Big Sal, and send the fleet off against the Grik. Humfra-Dar can then go in the dry dock. We’ll send a couple other Homes with the troops we can’t put in the frigates. Otherwise, we keep doing what we’re doing.” He looked around. “Making the tools for them to do the job.”
“Indeed,” said Adar, “that is as I hoped. We must push the Grik! Whatever support Captain Reddy requires in the east, Saan-Kakja has promised. Already, ships are leaving Manila to intercept and shadow this Ajax. We have finally contacted Lieutenant Laumer on Talaud-his transmitter was damaged-and Captain Lelaa’s sloop will attempt to intercept Ajax as well. We have addressed all we seem capable of, yet one serious issue remains.”
“Ah!” Courtney Bradford declared, speaking at last. He hadn’t had anything to add to the military and logistical discussion, but now his turn had come. “I presume you refer to a certain… ticklish physical and somewhat spiritual notion?”
“It is not a notion!” Adar insisted. “For such a learned creature, you are so very cavalier with the most fundamental laws of things!”
“Physics,” Bradford agreed. “And I assure you Mr. Chairman, I’m not in the least cavalier about that at all! The problem is, as I’ve so often told you-and not to put too fine a point on it or to intentionally insult you in any way-your understanding of some physical aspects of the world are… well… wrong.” He pointed at the map before them. “According to Captain Reddy’s last transmission, Commodore Jenks has at last freely revealed what many of us have long suspected: this Empire of New Britain Isles is centered in a chain we called the Hawaiian Islands! It is quite distant indeed. It is, in fact, according to your, um, mis understanding, quite an impossible place for anyone to be, or even exist. You recognize the world is round, like a cannonball, but since gravity pulls downward, you believe we here stand either near or upon the very top of the world! I assume this tradition is due to our proximity to the equator and the fact that the midday sun passes almost directly overhead. On its face, that would seem a most sensible and understandable position. I take it, however, from our discussions and a few old sayings I’ve heard, that you believe anyone who ventures too distant in any direction will plummet into the void of the heavens!”