“Then that should make destroying them all the easier. Destroy one of the other little ships as well; I don’t care which, but you may allow one to escape.”
“But, Commander!”
Still facing away, Billingsly spoke very clearly. “Destroy those ships, Captain Rajendra, or place yourself under arrest. Which will it be?”
“ Simms!” Lelaa shrieked at the top of her lungs, hoping someone on the nearby ship might hear. “Hard over! Run!” Truelove backhanded her to the deck.
“Captain Rajendra?” Billingsly prodded.
Rajendra’s expression seemed almost desperate as he looked at those around him. This was beyond anything, beyond even the questionable seizure of the princess. This entire episode had been engineered to paint the Navy with the same guilt the Company wore. He could not be part of it! But what of the princess? He feared for her and her friends, and he knew the Company had an unwholesome agenda regarding her. If he was relieved, he would be unable to help her. His eyes sought hers and he saw… pleading. She would think him a monster and might not trust him when she absolutely had to. And yet, the ships were doomed. If he refused the order, another would carry it out. Presently, he at least retained command of his ship’s movements, if not her actions. He had to preserve that!
“Commence firing,” he whispered, barely audible, eyes locked on the princess, pleading for understanding.
“What was that, Captain? I’m a bit hard of hearing today.”
“Commence firing, God damn you!” Rajendra bellowed, not caring if Billingsly knew he was shouting at him and not the crew.
CHAPTER 22
Matt stood on Walker ’s port bridge wing and, for just a while, allowed himself to feel the pure joy of the moment. At long last, his ship was alive again. He felt her sinews coiling for the rush in the vibration of the newly painted rail beneath his hands. Her hasty, impatient breath was in the blower behind the pilothouse. Her muscles were the men and ’Cats who scrambled on the fo’c’sle, a little awkwardly and out of practice perhaps, to single up her lines. Her heart was her own and always had been, but as he stood there, he almost felt her mind merge with his once more, becoming a willing tool for his purpose. Oh, if only Sandra were there, it would be the perfect moment. A measure of her old vitality restored, the ship fairly strained against the bonds that clutched her to the land. She was ready for the long voyage ahead, come what may. Together they’d get Sandra back: the old destroyer and her captain.
“Take in the stern lines,” Matt commanded, and he waited while the task was performed. “Left full rudder,” he called to Kutas, the scarred helmsman. “Port ahead one-third.” The dingy water alongside the dock boiled up through the propeller guard and thunderous cheers reverberated from the crowd gathered to see. Matt scanned the crowd for faces as Walker ’s stern crept away. They were the ones who’d done this, the people of this city he’d grown to love. Partly they’d done it because this ship was their protector, the almost holy talisman that saved them from the Grik. They owed it to her; they needed her still-but the quality of the work they’d done and the inhuman hours that work had required bespoke a labor of love. Matt nodded his thanks to all of them, not only for what they had done for his ship, but for what he knew they’d done for him.
Some of the faces he saw were less jubilant than others. Adar appeared thoughtful, but he waved encouragingly. Judging by his posture, Keje was downright morose. He’d badly wanted to come, but Big Sal would soon join the fleet at Singapore. He couldn’t be in two places at once. Besides, his daughter Selass was sailing as Walker ’s medical officer. They’d become quite close again and he would miss her. Letts looked anxious. He’d complained that he never got to go anywhere, but as Matt had once told him, he’d worked himself out of a job. He had a bigger job now and a very pregnant wife. Riggs looked stoic. Ed Palmer could do his job on the ship, but he couldn’t take over ashore. Perry Brister made an obscene gesture at somebody aft and Matt chuckled, spotting Spanky McFarlane waving cheerily from where the number one torpedo mount used to be. Spanky had left Brister in charge of his division in Baalkpan because there was no way Walker was steaming off without him.
Gazing farther aft, the incongruity of an airplane lashed carefully to the deck behind the searchlight tower struck Matt again. Besides never having seen such a thing on a four stacker before, the Nancy just looked so strange and fragile. He knew it would be great having it along-if it didn’t fall apart. Mallory had assured him the “ships” were tougher than they looked. Matt hoped the same was true for poor Reynolds. The young aviator seemed somewhat lost and all alone standing near the plane.
“Rudder amidships,” Matt called. “Take in the bowline.” A few moments later, he added, “All astern, one-third.” The old ship groaned a bit as the turbines’ gears reversed their thrust, but she did seem. .. tighter than he remembered. As they backed away, the crowd cheered again and Matt kept looking for faces as they grew smaller. Bernie was there, waving happily with the others. He liked his job ashore. Laney was some distance away from him, sitting on a stanchion, probably wondering if he was happy or sad. He caught sight of Pam Cross and Risa standing side by side. Whatever… relationship… they shared with Silva, they were worried about the big ape, and his heart went out to them. The final face he recognized was that of one of the Mice-Gilbert Yeager-standing all alone with his hands in his pockets. Tabby knew Walker ’s systems as well as anyone now, and she’d won the toss. Matt was secretly amazed Gilbert hadn’t just sneaked aboard anyway. He’d done it before. Still, he was probably the most forlorn figure Walker was leaving behind.
“All stop. Right full rudder, all ahead two-thirds!” Matt commanded. The old ship’s stern crouched down and water churned. Almost immediately, she began a looping turn to starboard. “Honk the horn, if you please,” Matt said, and with a shriek of her whistle that drowned any further cheers, Walker sprinted for the mouth of the bay.
“Feels good, huh, Skipper,” said the Bosun as he and Chack appeared on the bridge. Back aboard his Home, Chack had immediately reverted to his role as bosun’s mate. He would have other duties too: his company of Marines would augment the crew, but it also had to drill with the new muskets they’d been issued. Bernie had insisted Walker get the first batch.
“Feels good,” Matt confirmed. “We’ll let things shake down a little; then we’ll start running a few drills.”
“Gonna be a comedy at first,” Gray warned.
“I know. Say, where’s Mr. Bradford? I figured he’d be on deck to enjoy the send-off.”
“Oh, he’s below, still stowing junk he says you said he could bring along, for experiments an’ such.”
Matt laughed. “He hit me with a list and swore he’d stick to it, but I guess I don’t really care what he brought as long as it stays out of the way.” He shook his head, watching as they left the feluccas and fishing boats in their wake. “God, it feels good to be moving again!”
“In case you didn’t notice, we were moving along pretty well on Achilles in that Strakka!” Chack said dryly.
“Mmm. That was quite the thrill ride, but we were being pushed. It’s nice to move that fast on our own!”
They talked amiably until they passed below Fort Atkinson and the report of a gun interrupted their conversation. Then another.
“A salute,” Gray said. The guns kept firing. As the number mounted, Matt turned to Gray, who was staring expressionlessly ahead. When they finally stopped at nineteen, Matt’s tone was ominous.
“Nineteen guns? You told them to do that! Are you out of your mind? That’s nuts… and think of the wasted powder!”
Gray looked at Matt. “Yeah, Adar asked and I told him. And it ain’t nuts! The Secretary of the Navy gets that many, and if you ain’t at least that, what are you? You’d better dip the flag or you’ll disappoint the boys an’ girls in the fort.”