“Howdy, fellas,” he said to the throttlemen, even though half were female and a couple of those were human women. He tried not to notice the way their sweaty T-shirts clung to them.
“We’re goin’ in the yard when we get to the Philippines, right?” asked Johnny Parks. The kid had been a fireman’s apprentice on Mahan, and now he was a machinist’s mate (engine). He seemed like a good kid, but he was just now catching up with some of the ’Cats.
“Right.”
“Good. The lube oil in the reduction gears is getting mighty thin.”
“I know, and we can’t change it out underway. Should’ve done it at Respite.”
“Yes, sir… but we changed it at Scapa Flow twice, coming and going, and, well, we’re out.”
Spanky scratched his chin under his whiskers. “Yeah. Right. I saw that in the division report.” He shook his head. “The old girl’s just about as beat up as she was when Amagi sank her. I’m starting to lose track of it all-and now I’ve got more than just engineering to worry about.” He forced a grin and slapped Johnny on the shoulder. “It’ll be okay. Plenty of lube oil waiting for us at Manila!”
He moved aft, past the giant turbine that dominated the space and paused by the reduction gear housing. He frowned. He’d never wanted to be exec. As engineering officer he’d had enough problems and responsibilities to deal with within his complicated but limited domain. Now he had to worry about the whole ship-and he still didn’t have half the worries the Skipper had. He didn’t regret keeping Captain Reddy in the dark about recent developments. What could he have done? But he finally understood why he’d been so mad. There was nothing he could do about the lube-oil shortage or the failing gaskets in the firerooms, but he needed to know about them. He suddenly remembered a heated lecture he’d given Tabby once, when she’d torn down a boiler without telling him. He’d told her she’d been wrong not to keep him fully informed because the Captain was basing his plans on what he thought his ship could do. Maybe this was different, and he honestly couldn’t think of anything the Skipper could have done if he’d known immediately what was happening, but he and Gray had been wrong not to tell him.
“The ship’s a wreck,” he admitted aloud to himself, “and the Skipper damn sure needs to know that before we tangle with that Jap tin can!”
CHAPTER 19
March 17, 1944
Scapa Flow, New Scotland
Empire of the New Britain Isles
Mrs. Carr quietly brought a pot of tea into the Imperial Library in Government House and set it near the sunken-eyed girl sitting on the leather-padded chair behind the broad, cluttered desk. It was her father’s desk, and the disheveled stacks of papers, books, and odd contraptions sprawled across it, just as he’d left them, seemed to represent him in the room. Princess Rebecca Anne McDonald stirred herself to nod slightly in thanks. With a dreadful sigh and what might have been a disapproving glare at Courtney Bradford, Mrs. Carr left the room. Courtney sat across the desk, leaning forward, yearning to enfold the girl in a comforting, supportive embrace, but the young princess had forbidden it and Courtney knew why. Possibly endless tears lurked behind those tortured eyes, and they couldn’t be released, not yet, lest they quench the white-hot steel that burned in the girl’s soul. He’d said everything he could possibly say, and she knew of the protective support, even love, he felt for her, but things-momentous things-had to be attended to, and she could not let anything interfere with that just yet. Even grief.
Mechanically, Rebecca poured a cup of tea for Courtney and another for herself; then they continued to wait. The odd, colorful, furry reptile named Petey remained drooped across the back of Rebecca’s neck like a fat little stole. He hadn’t even stirred except to cut an eye in Mrs. Carr’s direction when she came and went. Perhaps he sensed something of his master’s mood, because he definitely knew Mrs. Carr was the primary source of food in the house, and normally, he would have begun yapping “Eat! Eat!” at the first sight of her.
There came a soft knock at the door and the Imperial Factor, Sean Bates, stepped into the room, accompanied by the blond-furred Lemurian Lieutenant Ruik-Sor-Raa. Bates’s expression was little different from Rebecca’s, and Ruik was blinking rapidly in condolence. Beyond the door, before it closed, a glimpse of the hallway showed it well supplied with Imperial and Lemurian Marines.
“Yer highness,” Sean began softly, his own eyes red. News had finally come. “I wanted ta say, I must say, yer father an’ mother… they were…”
“You will address me as Your Majesty, from this moment on, so there will be no misunderstanding, no possibility that any might doubt my legitimacy or intent!” Rebecca said sharply.
“Of course, Your Majesty… Of course,” Sean replied, forcing a formal tone. “The coronation’ll make it official… after the funeral, of course, but there’s certainly precedent for a direct transition of Imperial power through inheritance…” He nodded harshly. “An’ I advise ye ta seize that power immediately, or everything we-and your parents-so recently accomplished might still be undone. The primacy o’ the Governor-Emperor could still be subverted, particularly since…” Bates stopped and lowered his eyes.
“Particularly since I am a woman-and not only that! A child!” Rebecca interjected.
“There’s the issue o’ lawful age,” Bates conceded. “An’ with today’s discovery of both yer father’s and mother’s remains in the ruins o’ the Court o’ Directors… Even many who support ye will insist on the namin’ of a guardian. That cry has already begun.”
“Then you will be my guardian!” Rebecca insisted.
“You cannot name me thus, Yer Majesty. Only the courts o’ Directors or Proprietors can do so. With the one disbanded an’ the other extinct, that leaves only…”
“Who?”
“The High Admiral o’ the Imperial Navy. In this case, Lord High Admiral James McClain. Jenks’s authority ta relieve him came directly from the Governor-Emperor, but he wasn’t dismissed the service, or even reduced in grade! McClain is still high admiral.”
“Never!” Rebecca cried. “The man is a coward and a military imbecile, and if poor Bigelow’s suspicions were correct, a murderer as well! His dying words could only have meant that McClain suggested the traitorous beaters! Now McClain will surely name himself as guardian!”
Petey finally stirred and raised his toothy snout from Rebecca’s breast. “Never!” he shrieked, approximating Rebecca’s indignant tone. “Goddam!”
Realization suddenly dawned, and Courtney bolted to his feet. “At last!” he cried. “We have a true motive for this damnable atrocity! I suspected the insidious fiend all along! No one opposed the treaty reforms more, and he certainly had the opportunity! Now the proof is laid bare at last!”
“Perhaps not proof yet, Your Excellency,” Ruik tactfully interjected, “but I believe you say… the evidence of circumstance? And it does make sense. The attacker we captured conveniently-and rather oddly-died in the Navy hospital before we were able to interrogate him. If the man was murdered, who might have arranged it most easily?” He paused. “As I think on it, to call what the Lord High Admiral did in the east mishandled or incompetent is a weak understatement. Not all were convinced he did mishandle the situation, as far as he was concerned.” Ruik blinked resentment. “I was there when he was relieved for cause, and he objected, of course. Cap-i-taan Reddy and Commodore Jenks did not believe he was a traitor or that he was in league with the Doms, or they would have hanged him then, I’m sure. Perhaps they were right, but in his disgrace, he could have turned traitor since, I suppose.” He blinked consideration. “Or… It did strike others with greater understanding of human face moving than I, that even disgraced, the high ahd-mi-raal did not act… defeated?”