“Huh,” Matt said and looked under the sheet at the long, bandaged area. “Did you go ahead and take out my appendix while you had the hood up?”
“This is not funny,” Sandra snapped.
“No, it’s not,” Matt agreed. “Sorry. But it might have been a good idea…”
“I was busy! That fight killed some good men and Lemurians, and hurt a lot more. Carl Bashear was badly burned, and Ed Palmer had a broken collarbone and arm, and internal bleeding-”
“And we lost Norm Kutas,” Matt said, remembering. “Damn.”
“We lost Norm,” Sandra confirmed, “and nine Lemurians. It could have been much worse. Probably should have been. We were lucky.”
“Well. At least we got that Jap destroyer,” Matt said quietly. “That’s one less thing to worry about.”
Sandra hesitated, and his eyes narrowed. “We did get her, didn’t we?”
“Spanky is almost certain we did,” Sandra admitted.
“Almost?”
Sandra’s eyes flared. “Yes, almost! She was badly hit, she has no fuel or any way to get it, and even if she didn’t sink, she has nowhere to go! Ultimately, we did get her, whether we saw her sink or not, and your ship and your crew-not to mention you-needed immediate attention! Mr. McFarlane made the right call, and you need to tell him so! Between that and the faulty rivets, he thinks he let you down, and we-everybody-need Spanky at the top of his game right now.”
Matt was nodding. “You’re right,” he said.
“What?”
“I said, ‘You’re right’!”
A tentative smile touched Sandra’s lips. “Well. Of course I am.” She paused. “Saan-Kakja and Lord Forester will be back here soon, I’m sure. They met you when you came ashore, but I doubt you remember.” Her expression changed. “There have been a lot of developments, and no doubt they’ll want to hear your views. In the meantime, do you feel like eating anything?”
Saan-Kakja, Ambassador Forester, Chack, and Spanky arrived while Matt was eating a soft, colorless goo he couldn’t recognize, but which tasted something like tapioca pudding without the “fish eggs,” as he called them. After a short visit, they described the current situation in the east and west, and Matt had trouble finishing his meal. He was glad to see that the ambassador and Saan-Kakja seemed to like each other. That was going to be important.
“What are your plans, Your Excellency?” Matt asked Saan-Kakja.
“We must send everything we can to Generaal Aalden immediately!” she said. “His position is precarious, and the war in the east is stable for now.”
Matt was shaking his head.
“You do not agree?”
“With respect, I think you should stick to the plan. High Admiral Jenks has done well, but if you interrupt his supply line now, it’ll take many more months to amass the combat power he needs to take the war to the Doms, and we have to keep them off balance. The Grik are the greatest short-term threat, but the Doms will catch up if we give them too much time.” He looked at Forester. “I’m sure you would agree.”
Forester nodded reluctantly. “The situation in the Empire remains unstable, though the Governor-Empress has made great strides.” He looked at Saan-Kakja. “Your continued support and clear dedication to the war in the east will further strengthen her position. Like you, I yearn to aid your General Alden in this time of trial, but I would actually rather send Imperial troops to do it than give anyone in my country the mistaken impression that your resolve there is weakening.”
Saan-Kakja was blinking hesitant agreement. “Perhaps. I would like to see more Imperial troops in the war against the Grik, and I do not want to even seem to be wavering in my support for my sister, Rebeccaa.” She jerked a nod. “It will be as you say, Mr. Ambaas-a-dor. The Fil-pin Lands will continue to concentrate our efforts in the east-but in exchange, I do want more Imperiaal troops brought here, and then committed in the west.”
“Very well,” Forester said. “I’m sure the Governor-Empress will happily agree. We are in this war together, and the more of it we fight together, the stronger I think we will be.”
“But… What about Generaal Aalden?” Chack asked. “He must be reinforced.”
“He will be,” Matt said. “You can count on it. First Fleet took a beating, but it wasn’t wrecked-and I’ll bet the guys and gals on Andaman and in Baalkpan have already figured out a few surprises to counter the latest Grik stunts. I’ve got a few ideas myself.” He looked thoughtful, and shifted the pillows that kept him propped up. Sandra saw his difficulty and helped. He smiled at her. “What’s the status of the regiment you’re raising here?” he asked Chack.
“It is not ready for combat. The new weapons are only now being issued, and the troops must grow familiar with them.” He shrugged. “So must I.”
“And Risa’s regiment in Baalkpan?”
“Much further along,” Chack confessed. “She has had them longer and has had the weapons from the start. The arsenal here is catching up but…” He blinked annoyance.
“But you think you can have your troops ready for action before Walker is ready for sea again?”
Chack would have winced if his face had the muscles for it. He’d seen Walker ’s damage.
“Yes Cap-i-taan. Will we go to Indiaa and aid… Generaal Aalden?”
Matt knew Chack’s greatest concern was for his beloved Safir Maraan, but he would never say so in this context. He bit his lip. “Maybe… but maybe not.” He shrugged and pain shot up from his wound, and he shook his head sheepishly. “I’ve been keeping something in my back pocket for some time now. Maybe this is the time to take it out and have a look at it.” He looked at Chack. “It doesn’t involve going to India, but if we can pull it off, it should definitely help the expeditionary force that’s in a jam there.” He paused a moment, looking at the expectant faces. “As a matter of fact,” he said with growing conviction, “if we play our cards right, I think the stunt taking shape in my head might just leave the Grik with their ugly necks stuck out just far enough for us to cut their damn throats!”
EPILOGUE
The South of Africa
Lieutenant Toryu Miyata was much recovered from his grueling ordeal. He still mourned his lost friends, but he’d been close enough to death himself, from exposure, that their loss had dimmed, and become somehow remote. Since his rescue, however, and during his gradual recuperation, he’d grown to realize that he’d stumbled into perhaps the most bizarre situation yet encountered on this strange world.
He hadn’t seen it himself, but someone once told him about an odd book they’d read before the war about a place called Shangri-La. Somehow, he thought he remembered that the tale was set in China or Tibet, or some such place, but he’d honestly begun to wonder if he hadn’t actually found it here on what had to be the south coast of Africa, despite the chill. He hadn’t spent any time out of doors yet, or really even out of the room he’d been recuperating in, but there were windows, and he spent a lot of time staring out at the strange city. Never in his life had he seen such an… extraordinary combination of peoples-and not all of them were human! — yet they commingled and appeared to get along as well amid the bustle, as any similar number might in Tokyo!
And the architecture! He knew of nothing to compare it to. He was young, and before the Navy he’d never traveled before, but the substantial buildings he saw from his window combined what he considered ancient traditional, eastern design with what he supposed was some kind of equally ancient western construction-and something else completely different-in an amazingly complementary fashion that he wouldn’t have thought possible. The result was a harmony of wood and stone, columns and high pagodas that had clearly been blending together long enough that it seemed somehow right. Curved, ornate roofs predominated, covered with tile or copper, but the columns that supported them flowed as well, sometimes tapering toward the center, with admirable stonework at the top and bottom.