“Growing a bit paranoid?” Kathy asked with a small smile. Keje didn’t smile back.
“As CINCWEST, do I have any choice? Perhaps General Aalden and his Second Corps would not be in the predicament they are now if others exercised a touch of paar-aa-noiaa now and then!” The statement was the first time he’d openly criticized Alden-even though Alden had already been criticizing himself almost daily. It showed how frustrated Keje was becoming. He glanced around, blinking apology.
“Forgive me,” he said. “General Aalden is our greatest field commander. He planned his campaign based on what we know of the Grik. Unfortunately, what we ‘know’ is not always right and has shown a depressing capacity for change of late.” He sat straighter in his chair. “General Aalden will consolidate his force and rescue Second Corps-and General-Queen Maraan! In the meantime, we must deal with this other threat.” He sighed. “I agree that Andamaan is most likely safe. The defenses are well established and many ships are gathered there, preparing to come forward. In addition, the P-Fortys will soon arrive, able to carry a single, but heavier bomb. Maa-draas must be the enemy objective. But if those… battleships achieve it, they will block General Aalden’s line of supply. We must stop them.”
Kathy looked around the room. “These guys have flown their hearts out and it seems clear there’s nothing more they can do. They’re beat, Admiral.”
There were cries of protest, but Keje nodded. “Agreed. We have lost half a wing of aircraft, at any rate, between us and Arracca, and even though the enemy no longer shoots them down, the machines are failing. We will make for Maa-draas immediately. The aircraft based on Saa-lon can defend against any landings there. We will use the time to rest our aircrews and machines, then use them to help General Aalden.” He grinned. “Do not forget, my friends: We still have a powerful surface fleet of our own! We have Commodore Ellis and his DDs, in addition to our own, and Salissa and Arracca have mighty batteries! Perhaps we are not encased in iron, but I will match our stout sides against anything the Grik can build!” There were cheers and stamping feet. “Even if we have no further help by then,” Keje continued, “we will offload all aircraft and their necessary support, and clear our carriers for a surface action such as this world has never seen!”
CHAPTER 22
March 20, 1944
USS Walker
Northwest Fil-pin Sea
“Hold on!” shouted Super Bosun Fitzhugh Gray as he grabbed the little anchor crane far forward on Walker ’s fo’c’sle. The bullnose and jackstaff disappeared as the knife-sharp bow-just a few paces away-pitched down beneath another gray-green roller. The torrent of seawater would have swept his repair detail away like crumbs on a plate without his warning, and even Gray felt his feet leave the deck as the flood cascaded past, erupting against the splinter shield of the number one gun and booming against the bridge structure beyond. He glanced quickly around at the ’Cats in his detail, making sure he hadn’t lost anyone. Like him, they’d been scrambled around a bit, but they were all there. “Hurry the hell up!” he roared, regaining his feet with the help of the cold iron crane.
“We almost done!” cried Pack Rat, pounding a big, corklike plug into the hole in the deck where the starboard anchor chain vanished below. God knew what happened to the old cover; fell apart and washed away, most likely, but the chain locker was more than half-flooded and the pumps had more than enough to do.
Gray turned around. “How ’bout you?” he asked Jeek, the flight-crew chief for the Special Air Division. Jeek had a new plane now, a day out of Samaar, where they’d taken it aboard and filled Walker ’s growling bunkers with oil. But with the plane carefully stowed aft, he was part of Gray’s damage-control division, and it wasn’t like they’d be flying that day!
“This damn hatch cover leak no matter what I do,” Jeek said angrily. He was trying to seal the hatch over the forward companionway. “Them gals in chief’s quarters just gonna have to live with it. It ever not leak?”
“No,” Gray admitted. “Just thought we might try somethin’ while we was out here. Leave it be.” The hatch had always leaked, leaving the deck in the Chief’s quarters slick when the sea was high. The swooping, elevator-ride experience of living under the fo’c’sle was unpleasant enough even without the damp, but you got used to it. The only thing was, Diania lived in there now with Tabby, so she could be close to Sandra. She hadn’t made a peep about the conditions, but Gray could tell just by looking at her that she’d been miserable ever since the sea kicked up. He could spot that “look” a mile away after all these years. He shook his head, almost angrily. He’d tried. He looked back at Pack Rat, who’d sealed the opening as best he could. “C’mon, Jeek. Damn sure ain’t worth losin’ nobody over. Let’s get out of here.”
They waited until after the bow took another plunge, and then scampered aft across the fo’c’sle until they reached the starboard hatch below the bridge. One of Jeek’s ’Cats opened the hatch, and they all darted through. They barely had it shut before another surge slammed against it.
“Whew!” said Gray. “We’re done, for now. You guys can relax, but hang here until you’re relieved.” It had been a very wet, busy watch, and they’d spent it plugging leaks all over the forward half of the tired old ship. The worst had been a sprung plate in the forward berthing space, which wasn’t that bad in and of itself-except all the females aboard would have damp racks now-but a lot of seams were opening as the ship worked in the heavy seas and the pumps were starting to strain to keep up. The water in the chain locker had been just the latest concern, and they’d handled that quickly enough. “I’ll go report to the Skipper,” Gray said, turning for the stairs.
Captain Reddy was standing beside his chair when Gray entered the pilothouse. He’d obviously left it so Sandra and Diania would have something to hold on to while the ship pitched. They were the only humans on the bridge, and the rest of the watch was all Lemurian. That didn’t bother Gray at all. Just about everyone on Walker could stand a bridge watch now, and they’d had plenty of practice in all conditions.
“The old girl oughta ride easier after we get that water out of the chain locker,” Gray said, and Matt and the two women turned. Everyone was a little damp-that was the nature of things, and Walker ’s semiopen pilothouse didn’t help-but Gray was utterly drenched and dripping on the wooden strakes.
“Thank you for trying to fix the leak down the forward companionway,” Sandra said with a smile. She didn’t even look at Diania, but Gray felt his face heat. “I’m sure the ladies quartered there appreciate it.”
“Didn’t work,” Gray objected. “I think the goddamn hatch was designed to leak… if you’ll excuse my French.”
“You’re probably right,” Matt admitted, “but it was thoughtful to try. The chain locker?”
“Tight, but that’s the only thing.” Gray hesitated. “Ah, Skipper? Maybe we ought not chase this Jap tin can right away. The ship’s tired, real tired, and she needs that dry-dock pretty bad. We could probably do most of the work at Manila in just a couple of weeks. Just tighten up the hull. We could tear down engineering once we catch the Jap and get back to Baalkpan.”
Matt nodded but turned back to face out the windows. From here, the sea looked like jagged, broken gray iron beneath a lighter gray sky. Sandra looked at Matt, and her expression… troubled Gray. He was glad she and the Skipper had finally taken the plunge, and their happiness had been an infectious thing for their first few days at sea, but the reports that continued coming in had turned the Skipper anxious and restless, kind of like he’d been when they were racing back to Baalkpan to face Amagi, but less focused. That had been a bad time, but now there was a lot more going on, and almost nothing Matt could personally do about most of it. The man was a born leader. Maybe not in a MacArthur sort of way, thank God, but the kind who inspired others to do their best because they knew he was doing his right alongside them. Regardless how worried he was about Keje, Rolak, Pete, Safir Maraan, and all of First Fleet, he wouldn’t give orders to Keje because Keje was on the spot and he wasn’t, but the situation had to be driving him nuts. Gray was suddenly glad the Skipper hadn’t left Sandra at Samaar to take an empty oiler back to Maa-ni-la, like he’d suggested. Sandra had refused, of course, as Walker ’s medical officer, and Matt hadn’t pressed. After all, they’d probably need her if they caught Hidoiame — and her just being around was good for the Skipper.