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“Do you consider them a threat?” Adar asked.

“Sure. Why not?” Matt sighed. “Mr. Chairman, I consider everyone not in this room a threat, because only these people, and those they represent, have proven they’re not. Do I think these ‘new’ Brits’ll swoop down like the Grik and attack as soon as they know where we are? No. Jenks acted like they had other problems besides us, although neither Rebecca nor O’Casey seems to know what they are. Something that’s sprouted up since the two of them have been gone? Maybe.” Matt shrugged. “And I don’t think they’re a threat like the Grik, either. They certainly don’t eat people, and I don’t think they’re much interested in our real estate. They may see us as a rival, though, which we might be soon enough.” He looked down at Sandra. “To be honest, based on the technology we’ve seen, in the months it’ll take them to get back to wherever they came from and return here with a sizable force-if that’s their intent-we’ll have enough of the new weapons we’ve planned that we’d paste them good. The thing is, they’re a threat in the sense that they’re a distraction. Just the possibility that they’ll send a fleet is enough to pin some of our resources here and in the Philippines when we should be chasing the Grik before they catch their breath.”

“No one wants to destroy the Grik more than I, but is haste truly so important?” Adar asked.

“Yes, Mr. Chairman. It’s essential.”

“But you won’t be ready to pursue them for months. These weapons you speak of, this ‘technology,’ won’t be ready for some time.”

“True, but we can, must, mount some operations fairly quickly. And when the new stuff’s online, I’d rather use it against the Grik.”

Adar nodded. “It seems, then, that we have several imperatives: First, keep the pressure on the Grik; keep them off balance, as you’ve said. Perhaps we might accelerate the departure of our new Expeditionary Force. Second, we must treat with this Jenks and keep him satisfied that we truly are preparing an expedition to return his lost princess. Try to befriend him and avoid alienating him. Finally, once we do return the girl to her people, we must do everything we can to make friends with them, not only for the benefit of our war effort, but-and I notice you did not mention this-to alleviate the ‘dame famine’ that afflicts your human destroyermen.” The lack of female companionship for Matt’s men after an entire year had created what Silva had coined a “dame famine.” In the pre-war Asiatic Fleet, it would have been considered extraordinary for the men to “do without” for a couple of weeks.

Matt shifted uncomfortably. “What you say is true, Mr. Chairman. All of it. To accomplish everything you described would be ideal. Lifting the dame famine would sure be a help, too, but I didn’t want to mention it, to seem selfish…”

“Nonsense. To… abstain as long as most of your people have is unnatural, and cannot be good for them. Rest assured, that imperative is as essential as any other, as far as I am concerned.”

“Thank you, Mr. Chairman.”

“Now, let us continue with how to accomplish the goals laid before us. Aahd-mah-raal Keje; what of the Navy?”

Keje rose with some difficulty. His leg was stiffening up. He should have been using a cane or something, but he’d refused. “The Navy, Mr. Chairman, doesn’t exist, for all practical purposes. Donaghey is fit for sea, as are some of the prizes, but it will be weeks before Tolson can sail. The shipyards survived major damage in the fighting-I believe the enemy meant to take them intact-so the new construction is proceeding almost uninterrupted. We have abundant hardwood laid up from when we cleared the killing fields around the city. It has remained covered and is drying well. Perhaps we will complete this ‘kiln’ thing Mr. Brister has begun. The yards are already working around the clock”-he grinned quizzically at Matt as if wondering if he’d used the phrase appropriately-“and the keels for six more modern warships have already been laid.” His grin became eager. “This technique of ‘mass production,’ where all the parts for each ship are made to a particular plan and any one of them will fit each ship, is truly a wonder. It speeds production amazingly.”

Letts nodded. “I’m glad you approve and I’m glad it’s working. We’ll use the same technique for just about everything, eventually. As soon as we’ve settled on the various plans”-he winced-“and overcome the… reluctance of some of our craftsmen.” He looked at Matt and explained. “We’ve always been amazed by Lemurian ingenuity, and their structural design techniques are beyond anything any wooden human navy ever launched, but they aren’t used to blueprints. They just make ’em the way they’ve always made them. The quality of their craftsmanship is beyond debate, but master shipwrights dominate the shipbuilding industry and they’re jealous of their status. They don’t much approve of just anybody being able to look at drawings and knock something up.”

“Understandable, I suppose,” said Matt, “but they’re going to have to get used to it.” He nodded at Saan-Kakja. “The finalized plans for our first steam frigates have already been sent to Manila, but you’ll probably run into some of the same problems.”

Saan-Kakja bowed and replied in her almost little-girl voice, “The plans were accompanied by my personal command that they be followed to the letter. I have allowed some innovation within the design parameters, as you suggested, but there will be little variation.”

“Fine,” said Matt. “Don’t want to stifle new ideas, but we need a lot of good ships more than we need a few perfect ones.” He turned to Keje and his expression softened. “What about Big Sal?”

Keje frowned. “She is refloated,” he grumbled. “A simple matter of pumping her out. However, the damage to her upper works was… extreme. Your… bizarre… idea might not only be the best means of returning her to the fight, but the single realistic one as well.” He sighed. “I mourn my Home and yearn for her to be as she was, but I might as well yearn for the Grik to leave us alone of their own accord. I fear, with her conversion, our way of life will be altered forever. Will other Homes be changed as well? Will they even be Homes anymore, or forever become dedicated weapons of war? What of the wing clans? There is already resistance. How will I sort that out? I also confess that I find it exceedingly strange to rebuild her as a… conveyance for weapons that do not yet exist.”

“They’ll exist,” Ben Mallory assured him. “It’s going to take time, but there’s no question we can do it. Also, knowing the way you ’Cats like gizmos, I bet there’ll be less resistance than you expect.”

“You’ve settled on a design, then?” Matt asked.

Adar watched as the conference increasingly shifted from his grasp. He didn’t mind. In fact, it was as he’d hoped. Captain Reddy had been somewhat withdrawn since the loss of his ship, but the man was made for command. The situation required that someone step up and take it, and he was the best one for the job. Adar had set the policies, the goals they’d work toward; it was up to his Supreme Commander and the rest of his staff to decide how to implement those policies.

“Sir,” Mallory replied, “we’ve come at this from every angle and run into problems with just about every design.” He grinned. “I’d love to have P-40s, but that’s just not going to happen. Right now, I’m leaning toward a variation of the old Navy-Curtiss, or NC, flying boats.”

“Flying boats?” Matt asked, eyebrows raised. “I thought we’d decided to raze Big Sal to a steam-powered flattop. Use her as an aircraft carrier.”

“She’ll still need to be flat to carry and maybe even launch the planes-like the old Langley -but we’ll fit her with cranes to lift the planes out of the water. See, the problem is wheels. That, and it would be nice if the aircrews could set the planes down if they’re damaged. If they don’t float, we’re going to lose a lot of guys. Sure not going to fish many out of the drink.”