Letts calmed the angry murmurs that arose over that. Captain Reddy was still Supreme Allied Commander, by acclamation, and Silva wasn’t the only one who’d noticed the new CSI’s tone-and no one had “acclaimed” Herring.
“Hear him out,” Letts said. “He’s right. The Skipper isn’t here, and he wants us to think for ourselves!”
Herring nodded at him and continued. “We find ourselves in this current predicament as a result of shortsighted thinking and an acute lack of intelligence regarding not only the strength and disposition of the enemy, nor do we have even the most remote understanding of the situation beyond the world we know. These deficiencies must be remedied. We must push harder to obtain land, aerial, and even seaborne reconnaissance. I know this will be dangerous for those involved for many reasons, but that danger must be balanced against the even greater danger now faced by the Alliance due to less… diligent attention to this necessity in the past.” There was more uncomfortable murmuring, but Herring pressed on.
“I understand an expedition to meet and treat with… certain natives on this island has been planned, and I agree it must go forward without delay. Not only will we learn more about what is out there than has ever been known, but we might even secure more valuable allies with a unique grasp of Grik psychology, not to mention field craft!
“In addition, I recommend that another major expedition be commissioned to explore the world beyond the Grik and attempt to measure not only the true extent of their influence, but also discover what possible threats lie past their domain. For this I propose the use of the frigate Donaghey, now refitting at Andaman. Her captain, Commander Garrett, has demonstrated uncommon courage and adaptability and the ship itself, as with all dedicated sailing vessels, is not nearly as dependent upon supply-and honestly, offers limited further utility in the combat operations either planned or underway. Commander Garret should take her, and perhaps at least one of the razeed Grik corvettes, or DEs, as her consort and supply ship.”
“You’re saying Garrett and his crew are expendable?” Ben demanded sharply.
“I’m saying all of us are, in the grand scheme of things. With that in mind, however, and in light of the recent dreadful losses of men possessing… special knowledge, I think it’s time that such men, and even Lemurians they have trained, be interviewed extensively and as much of their knowledge be collected and recorded as possible before it is lost forever.” He looked at Adar. “I know a major effort has long been implemented to copy and distribute the many technical manuals and indeed every book that has survived. But we must go beyond that to capture the experience of men who know how to do the things described in the texts.”
“Okay,” Ben said, still standing, “maybe that even makes some sense. Why don’t we encourage everybody to write journals or something?” He paused. “But what do you want to do right now?”
“We must immediately reinforce First Fleet with all air and sea assets at our disposal. As I hear so often, we know nothing of the fleet the Grik and their Japanese allies have constructed. The Alliance has made great strides since last the two forces met. We must presume the enemy has done the same.” He looked at Alan. “I suggest considerable thought be given toward how to counter naval forces even more powerful than our own.”
“As you may have noticed today, we’ve already given that a lot of thought,” Letts said a little stiffly. “And Lieutenant Monk says Santa Catalina is about ready for sea.” Alan personally believed the newly “protected cruiser” could stand up to anything the Grik could dish out. Besides, Herring’s manner was finally starting to rub him a little raw as well.
“Of course.”
“So,” Ben asked, “by ‘all assets,’ do you mean all my modern birds too?”
“That is what I recommend. You demonstrated today that the new domestically produced aircraft should soon be sufficient to defend the city from any further air raids. I consider those unlikely at present, based on… what little real intelligence we have received from the west. In addition, Mr. Letts assures me that small cargos of rubber are on their way as we speak. They should be sufficient to finish a large number of… Mosquito Hawks.”
Ben looked at Alan and Adar. “If all my P-Forties are going, I’m going too,” he stated forcefully.
Alan shrugged, expression troubled. “I’ll update the movement order and start the wheels rolling to increase the planned support.”
Silva eased over and whispered in Bernie’s ear. “Sounds like the whole damn war’s headin’ west for now. Any chance I can slip outta my little campin’ trip?”
Bernie shook his head. “If I have to stay here, you still have to follow your orders too. The Skipper’s orders.”
“Okay,” Dennis agreed, nodding at Herring. “But you keep an eye on that guy. Mr. Letts stood up to him, but I think he’s a little brass-blind, if you know what I mean. I ain’t famous for my noodle, but I’ve seen a ambitious politician or two on the stump and in the Navy both.”
CHAPTER 18
Eastern reaches of the Fil-pin Sea
Three days out of Respite
March 16, 1944
The honeymoon was over-in every respect. USS Walker, DD-163, was steaming at twenty-five knots on all three remaining boilers beneath puffy clouds and a dazzling sun. The sea was mild and there would be little breeze if not for the ship’s speed, which kept the temperature bearable, at least above deck. Tabby had reported that it was nearing 130 degrees in the firerooms, and Matt had no idea how the furry cats could stand it. They took frequent breaks, drank a lot of water, and shed a lot, of course. Spanky’s allergies wouldn’t even allow him to go down there right now.
Matt sat in his chair, trying not to brood. His time with Sandra had been amazing, and his heart still quickened at the thought of her. He hadn’t believed it was possible to feel such joy, even now while he tried to hide it, and his memories of the time they’d had were still glowing fresh. But then upon returning to the ship, he’d finally been briefed on all he’d missed. The crew, his officers, his friends had all conspired to keep him ignorant of the various developments; the battles in India, the situation in the east, even the attacks on Princess Rebecca and her family. It was still unknown if Rebecca was an orphan or not. A few survivors had been found in the rubble of the directors’ building, but hope was beginning to wane. And all that time, while all those momentous events were unfolding, he’d remained blissfully unaware.
He’d actually ranted when he heard. He felt guilty that he’d been so happy while everything everywhere seemed to be falling apart, and he took it out on Spanky and the Bosun more than anyone. They’d been most responsible for keeping him informed, and they’d consciously decided not to. He trusted the people on the scene, but he was profoundly frustrated that he and his ship were so remote from everything that had occurred, thousands of miles from anywhere they could have been of assistance to anyone. That was bad enough. But by keeping him incommunicado, he hadn’t been involved at all! Spanky had assured him that if anything had come up that really needed his input or permission, he would have been told, but that didn’t make him feel any better-or better inclined toward the conspirators.
Spanky had been somewhat contrite but defiant that he’d done the right thing. Matt had needed a real “liberty” more than anyone on the ship, he’d argued, particularly under the circumstances. And what could he, or any of them, have really done? Walker couldn’t go anywhere until her stopgap repairs were complete. She damn sure couldn’t tangle with Hidoiame until then! She needed the rest at least as much as her skipper. Even now, neither, in his view, was in top shape. Walker still needed a real yard and a dry dock. The snipes were back to using “baling wire and gum” to keep her at twenty-five knots!
Chief Gray had listened to the harangue in silence, then finally shrugged.