Crusade d-2 Read online

  Light streamed through the Great Hall’s open shutters and motes of dust drifted in the beams. Loud voices and shouted conversations carried on around Matt, Lieutenant Mallory, Courtney Bradford, Alan Letts, and Sandra Tucker, where they stood beside Nakja-Mur and his entourage, as well as Keje and Adar. Nakja-Mur stood, obese but powerful, dressed in his usual red kilt and gold-embroidered cloak that contrasted with his shiny dark fur. Fur with growing splashes of white. Matt thought of it as his «High Chief suit,» since he’d always dressed thus when Matt saw him. Adar’s purple robe with embroidered stars across the shoulders was an equally constant garment. The hood was thrown back, revealing his almost silver pelt and piercing gray eyes. Matt’s friend Keje was dressed in a warlike manner, as Matt had first seen him after Walker nd, by so doing, joined them in this terrible war. His armor consisted of engraved copper plates fastened to the tough hide of a plesiosaur they called «gri-kakka.» At his side was a short, scimitar-shaped hacking sword called a skota, and cradled in his arm was a copper helmet, adorned with the striated tail plumage of a Grik. He also wore a red cloak fastened at his throat by interlocked Grik hind claws. Beneath the armor, as protection from chafing, he wore a blue tunic embroidered with fanciful designs. Other than the Americans, he wore the only «shirt» in the hall. All the ’Cats the destroyermen had met seemed to wear as little as they could manage, usually just a light kilt. Even the females went disconcertingly topless, and their very human, albeit furry, breasts were a constant distraction for the sex-starved destroyermen.

  Large-scale addresses were rare among the People, and there was no way to speak directly to such a gathering from within its midst. Therefore, an elevated platform, or stage, had been constructed near the center of the hall where the Great Tree rose through the floor and soared high overhead to pass through the ceiling. Matt had seen the huge Galla tree many times now, but he was always amazed by its size and by the fact that he’d seen only one other like it. The one growing from the heart of Big Sal. He supposed other Homes had similar trees, and he wondered again if it was possible they were descendants of the trees the Lemurians had known in their ancient home.

  The crowd was growing restless, anxious.

  At a nod from Nakja-Mur, he stepped onto the stage. Immediately there was a respectful silence in the Great Hall — a much different reception than the last time he’d spoken to this assembly. Of course, he’d given them a «victory» since then — such as it was. He paced the small platform for a moment, staring at the upturned faces while Chack joined him to interpret. Many of those present had actually learned a smattering of English, but Matt hadn’t yet acquired a conversational ability in their tongue and he was slightly embarrassed by that. He’d always thought he was pretty good with languages, but there was something about the strange, yowling words of the People that absolutely defeated him. Bradford, Letts, and even Sandra could jabber away like natives — at least as far as he could tell — but he was just as likely to insult somebody as to tell them it was a temperate day. Maybe it was a mental block, or his mind was too busy. Whatever the reason, he was glad Chack was there.

  He gestured at Lieutenant Mallory. «My friends,» he began, «as you know, the flying-boat has returned from its scout in the south.» He paused. He’d hated sending the PBY and its crew off by themselves, but Bradford and the Mice had managed to refine a small amount of high-octane gasoline. They had done it somehow using salt water, of all things. Also, since Riggs had the plane’s radio working, they’d never been out of contact. Ben flew under orders to avoid being seen at all costs, so he didn’t have a firm count of the number of enemy ships that invested Surabaya. The only thing he could verify was that the lizards were definitely there. All the air crew could see from ten miles away and an altitude of 13,000 feet — a distance that should have muted the Catalina’s loud engines — was «lots of ships.» Unrealistically, Matt had hoped Mallory would spot Mahan—even though he had instructed him not to specifically look for her. Judging by how long he was gone and how much fuel he’d used, the Air Corps aviator must have covered as much ocean as he could anyway. There’d been no sign. «What Lieutenant Mallory and his companions have reported confirms our fears,» Captain Reddy resumed. «Aryaal is under siege.» He waited for a moment while the tumult died down. «I must ptime, many minutes passed before he was able to speak again. There were a few shouts of agreement, but many more cries of incredulous protest. The initial response degenerated into a general roar of discussion and debate. «We have no choice!» he shouted over the hubbub. «If the enemy establishes a permanent base as near as that, Baalkpan is doomed!» He picked out a small gathering of High Chiefs and fixed them with his eyes. «Many of you can just leave. Your Homes aren’t tied to the land. But if Baalkpan falls, what then? Where will you replenish stores? With whom will you trade? Who’ll repair your Homes? I know there are other lands that will serve that purpose for a time, but how long will it be before they too are lost? If we don’t stop them now, one day all that will remain of the People will be scattered clans, alone on the sea, without sanctuary and without hope.»

  «We have no hope now!» snarled Anai-Sa, Fristar’s High Chief. «We should flee. We’ve seen the charts you took, many of us, and the Grik are as many as the stars above.»

  «We must not flee!» Adar bellowed, joining Matt on the stage. The intensity of his glare caused many to flinch. «I was in the belly of the Grik ship not long after its capture. I have spoken to the ‘survivors,’ though such a word mocks them! I have seen the perverted way the Grik twist our faith and use it against us. Speak not of flight! Any who would flee in the face of this scourge is aiding it! They are not only cowards but traitors to their people!» There were shouts of dissent, but some loudly agreed. Anai-Sa brooded in silence.

  «Much has happened since we last met like this,» Matt continued when the uproar began to fade. «Since then we’ve accomplished much, in spite of the doubts of some. Most importantly, we’ve won our first real victory over the enemy. I don’t speak of simply destroying their ships. That’s been done before. Besides, I agree it’s now plain that such small victories are pointless in the face of the numbers the enemy possesses. What we’ve won is priceless intelligence!» He smiled. «We’re no longer as ‘ignorant’ as we were before, and so we can begin to plan for greater victories. Victories that will make a difference. The first such victory should be the relief of Aryaal.»

  «How can it benefit us to spill our blood for them?» asked Kas-Ra-Ar, Keje’s cousin. The question wasn’t confrontational, but genuinely curious. «The Aryaalans have never helped us before.»

  «If we save them from the fate that awaits them in the Grik hulls, I bet they will then,» Matt answered simply. «Don’t you see? The Grik are through ‘probing.’ This is for all the marbles — I mean. polta fruit!» He grimaced, wondering how well that would translate. «They’ve taken Singapore, destroyed Tjilatjap. possibly others. Now they threaten Surabaya — Aryaal. This is it! The conquest you’ve feared since you fled them the last time so very long ago!» He blinked appropriately to convey frustration and anger. «Well, I say this time we stop them! This time we throw their asses back!» He stopped and took a breath, wishing he had some water. He was sweating and he knew he was allowing his own frustration over the litany of events that had brought his ship and her people to this moment to color his argument.

  Once again, the long retreat in the face of the Japanese was fresh upon him. The terrifying escape from the Philippines, the lopsided battle of the Java Sea, the doomed retreat from Surabaya and the death of Exeter and Pope and all the others haunted him anew. The fate of Mahan, and the horrors he’d seen in the Grik hold. Not to mention the enigmatic human skull. At that moment, emotionally, it all became one. The Grik had become an arguably far more terrible, but just as youar effort.) There was also the touchy religious angle, which they rightly figured the Baalkpan High Chief could smooth out more easily — with his own people anyway — than either of them could.

&n
bsp; Mainly, though, Matt and Keje wanted Baalkpan to have a real piece of the naval war. Most of the landing force were Baalkpans, and most of their supplies came from there. Baalkpan truly was the «arsenal» of the alliance. Despite that, there was no great floating presence that represented Baalkpan in the order of battle, and the way such things were reckoned by their quintessentially seagoing race, the greater share of honor fell to those whose very homes went in harm’s way. Revenge more than satisfied that requirement of honor, since the plan called for her, the physical representative of Baalkpan, to be first in battle and perhaps even the key to the campaign’s success.

  Matt turned to stare back at the bulk of the fleet. Five of the «flat-top»-sized Homes lumbered slowly in their wake, screened by forty of the largest feluccas in Baalkpan’s fishing fleet. Somehow, they’d managed to arm them all to some degree. The feluccas each carried at least one of the huge crossbow-type weapons that had usually been associated with the main armaments of Homes. In fact, most had come from the Homes. A few of the feluccas even carried small swivel guns that Letts thought to cast as antipersonnel weapons. The Homes—Big Sal, Humfra-Dar, Aracca, Nerracca, and sulky Fristar—were now each armed with ten of the larger guns like Big Sal had used to such effect off Celebes. Matt still couldn’t believe Letts had pulled that off. He was proud of the former supply officer, who’d become the greatest logistics asset on the planet.

  He smiled wryly at the argument Letts put up when he was told he’d worked himself out of a job and was too essential to the war effort to go on the expedition. He, along with a disconsolate Sergeant Alden, would command the Baalkpan defenses at Nakja-Mur’s side and continue the good work. Together they would supervise the construction of fortifications and gun emplacements for the shore batteries and mortars that the foundry had turned to once the ships were armed.

  The cannons had been an extraordinary achievement, but they had taken time, as had the other preparations necessary to mount the campaign. Two agonizing months had passed — had it been only six months since they passed through the Squall? — and Mallory’s weekly reconnaissance flights showed that Aryaal still held, although the noose was tightening. He had also gotten a better idea of the forces involved. Thirty Grik ships, representing who knew how many thousands of invaders, were squeezing Aryaal now. A battle had been under way every time Ben flew.

  Against that, the Allied Expeditionary Force carried six thousand warriors and Marines. That constituted almost half of Baalkpan’s entire defensive force, male and female. Matt shook his head. He still couldn’t get used to that. Instead of crying and waving good-bye from the pier, Lemurian females hitched up their sword belts and joined their «men» with their spear or crossbow on their shoulders. He had no doubt about their ability; he’d seen them fight. But it was possibly the most disconcerting thing he’d seen since he got here. He felt a rueful twinge. Sandra enthusiastically supported the idea of female warriors, once she got used to the concept, and it wasn’t like she herself had exactly been sheltered from the dangers they all faced. But in her case, it wasn’t as though that’s the way things were supposed to be. He rubbed his chin and gave an exasperated sigh. It just didn’t He just hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

  Garrett raised his hands and pressed the earphones more tightly to his head. He listened for a moment and then turned to Matt. «Lookout has the Catalina in sight, Skipper.» Matt nodded calmly enough, but inside, he felt a supreme relaxation of tension. He hated it every time the plane flew out of sight for two reasons. First, it always carried a crew of bright, talented, and irreplaceable people whose chances of survival were poor at best if the plane was ever forced down. Also, dilapidated as it was, the PBY was the only airplane in this world, and it represented the greatest intelligence-gathering asset he had. It was an asset only if he used it, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. The radio usually worked — and that helped a little — although it was strange to talk in the clear without fear of the enemy listening in! But radio or not, he couldn’t shake his near-obsessive desire to preserve not just the crew but the plane itself. Important as this campaign was, he knew it was just a single campaign. Maybe it was a reflection of his still-smoldering bitterness over the lack of air cover for the Asiatic Fleet that reminded him you could take nothing for granted. But he couldn’t throw off the premonition that if they used up the Catalina now, the day would come when they would really wish they hadn’t.

  In the meantime, he contented himself with a surge of relief over its safe return from this scout, at least, and he looked forward to hearing what Ben Mallory had seen. «Very well,» he said. «Ask Lieutenant Dowden to close Big Sal and signal the fleet for all captains to repair aboard her for a conference. Please inform Captain Keje, with my respects; we’ll come alongside as soon as they’ve hoisted the plane aboard. Ask him to rig hoses as well. I want to keep the bunkers topped off.»

  «Aye, aye, sir,» Garrett replied and spoke into his mouthpiece.

  Matt watched the PBY grow larger as it neared, its thundering engines loud and reassuringly smooth. Mallory waggled his wings as he roared by the destroyer and began a wide, banking descent that brought him down alongside Big Sal. Matt dropped down the ladder to the wooden strakes below and stepped into the pilothouse.

  «Captain on the bridge!»

  «As you were,» replied Matt and smiled as the ship heeled into a tight turn toward the fleet. Juan, the diminutive but supremely dignified Filipino officer’s steward, had just arrived with the midwatch coffee, and he was desperately attempting to stabilize the serving tray so the coffee wouldn’t slide off onto the deck.

  «Juan, Mr. Dowden and I will be crossing over to Big Sal at eighteen hundred. Would you present my compliments to Mr. Bradford and Lieutenant Tucker and ask them to accompany us?»

  Juan finally got control of the carafe with an exasperated sigh as Walker steadied on her new heading. «Of course, Cap-tan Reddy. Might I recommend formal dress?»

  Matt thought for a moment, then nodded, a grin stretching his face. «By all means, Juan. As formal as we can manage, at any rate. We must set an example.» He glanced around at the quizzical expressions. «We are the flagship, after all!»

  Lieutenant — now Lieutenant Commander — «Spanky» McFarlane stood in the aft fireroom with his hands on his skinny hips and his eyes closed. He was feeling the ship and her machinery around him. The Mice watched expressionlessly, but two of the new «monkey-cat» snipes stared at him with reverential awe, as if they were in the very presence of some diminutive but allficulty staying awake.

  It had been a long day for Ben and his crew. They’d flown out of Baalkpan early that morning to make a final aerial observation of the objective. For the first time, Mallory was allowed to fly directly over the city — and the enemy forces. His observations weren’t reassuring. Almost forty Grik ships were now in the bay before Surabaya and they’d dispatched a sizable landing force. Unlike Baalkpan, the defenders had a sturdy wall all around their city, with what appeared to be formidable defenses. But the Grik army was more than large enough to encircle most of the settlement. The only exception to complete investiture was a stretch of waterfront and a portion of the bay between the city and the island of Madura, about three miles from the mainland. A large assemblage of native small craft was concentrated in the passage, and another fortification, as yet unengaged, was constructed on the point of land on the island closest to Surabaya. A dense cloud of smoke from burning buildings — probably set alight by what everyone was calling Grik Fire — hung over everything, and Mallory couldn’t see much detail. But this time there was no question whether the Grik saw the PBY.

  Matt disliked allowing the plane to be seen by the enemy, but they had to know what they faced. Perhaps the unnatural thundering apparition that swooped low overhead had unnerved the Grik, Matt consoled himself. In order to avoid doing the same to the Aryaalans, Mallory’s crew had dropped hundreds of «pamphlets» over the defenders’ main position. These pamphlets consisted of li
ght wooden shakes etched with a Lemurian phrase that said: «Your brothers to the north will aid you. We bring powerful friends. Do not fear.» It was all they could do to assure the defenders help was on the way. With his mission complete, Mallory returned to join the task force. Tomorrow, he would fly back to Baalkpan, since they dared not risk the plane in the fight to come. Once there, he’d stay in radio contact with Walker.

  Sandra Tucker sat primly at Matt’s side, also on one of the stools, and showed no discomfort whatsoever. He wondered what she was thinking. He’d come to rely more and more on her intuition as time went by, but he had to admit he also just liked having her around. They’d evolved an unspoken understanding after they declared their love for one another. Aboard ship, a wall of strict propriety always stood between them in spite of their mutual attraction. They thought they hid it well. But sometimes when they were alone, a more. comfortable. familiarity existed between them. They both felt compelled to restrict any further exploration of their feelings, and Matt felt almost guilty that they shared as much as they did when the rest of the men had no prospects at all. unless you believed Silva and Risa really. He shook his head. Perhaps someday they’d find more people; even the Lemurian legends hinted at the possibility, but right now there was a war to fight. Terrible as it was, at least it had released some of the pressure-cooker tension caused by the «dame famine.»