“It must have been a great battle,” Safir Maraan said softly, gazing at the sea of enemy dead. The stench of their cooked flesh was still strong, despite the wind that drove it inland.
“It wasn’t so great,” Greg quipped, sitting on a crate in the sand while Kathy herself stitched his scalp. Russ Chapelle was patiently waiting his turn under the nurse’s needle. He had several long claw gashes on his chest, but he’d survived, as had a fair percentage of those near the river. It was almost as if they’d been forgotten for a time, once the main line collapsed.
“It looked pretty ‘great’ to me,” Russ said, “Especially the way you pulled everybody into a square to save what you could. Then, of course, the planes’ cooking the Grik was swell!”
“I didn’t do the square,” Greg admitted. “Lieutenant Bekiaa did that. She did nearly everything that kept us alive. Her and Smitty.”
“That’s ‘Cap-i-taan’ Bekiaa now, according to General Aalden,” Safir said.
“Any sign of my exec? Lieutenant Saaran-Gaani?” Garrett asked.
“He’s okay,” Russ told him. “A little worse for wear, like all of us, but he made it to us on the left when things fell apart.” He pointed at the sea. “Already out on Dowden.”
Garrett sighed with relief. “Good. We lost so many… I saw Barry buy it. One of those goofy Grik muskets.”
“They’re matchlocks,” Russ said. “I bet that was a nasty surprise. We sent some to Alden. The good thing is, they won’t be worth a damn in the rain. We might use that.”
“What about Jamie?” Kathy asked, finishing her sewing.
“Dead,” Garrett said simply. “I… saw that too.”
“Well,” said Russ after a silent moment, “I guess us Navy types are out of it for a while. They’re gonna try to patch Donaghey up and pull her off, but it’s Pete’s, Rolak’s, and Her Highness’s fight now.” He nodded at the “Orphan Queen.”
“Not if I can help it,” Garrett swore. “ Donaghey ’ll be out of the war for months. Pete had better find me an infantry assignment or, by God, I’ll scratch up a regiment out of the guys we had here!”
Russ brightened. “Hey! That’s not a bad idea! You rig it; I’ll join it. Maybe they’ll give us that spitfire Bekiaa. Hell, we’ll win the war all by ourselves!”
CHAPTER 10
TF Maaka-Kakja
D iania crept down the dark companionway, deep in the bowels of USS Maaka-Kakja. Even this far from the engineering spaces, muted machinery noises were audible, and the very wooden fibers of the enormous ship trembled with life. She touched a bulkhead to steady herself on the stairs and felt the throbbing pulse of the twin triple-expansion monsters so far aft, beating like a mighty heart. There was only ambient light from the deck above so close to the forward magazine, and she felt small and vulnerable in the gloom. She had difficulty suppressing a sense of superstitious dread, summoned from distant memories of the admonitions of Dominion priests. She still believed in demons, but they weren’t the animalistic beasts of her childhood-or maybe they were. To her, the most fearsome demons of all were the priests themselves.
She’d become a devout follower of the English faith since her child- hood indenture, and even after her freedom was purchased by the “Americans” on the skinny iron steamer, she clung to it still. The Americans, of both species, seemed to care little what she believed as long as it wasn’t harmful to them or their cause. She kept her faith and found, through conversation, that it wasn’t much different from that of the Lady Sandra. If it had been, that might have caused her to convert, since she was utterly convinced that Sandra Tucker hung the moon.
Diania was in the Navy now; she, along with a number of other Respitan women, had taken the oath to defend the Constitution of the United States-whatever that was. She didn’t really care what the “Constitution” was; she’d have sworn an oath to a rope if Lady Sandra said she should. There’d been some commotion over her enlistment, mostly among the human men, she’d noticed, but she supposed that was to be expected. Women served as Naval Auxiliaries in the Empire, but none were allowed in the Navy itself. Lady Sandra clearly held more power than any woman she’d ever heard of; yet she wielded it with an ease and confidence Diania had rarely seen in men. It was all so strange, but exciting too. The Lemurian females took her induction as a matter of course, and she’d made a lot of friends. Even Sandra wouldn’t let her run around without a shirt, though, as female ’Cats sometimes did, and she wondered what to make of that. Still, she was in the Navy, with all the “rank and privileges” due any “seaman recruit”! She’d been told she could “strike” for any position she desired, and though she’d been a carpentress, she didn’t know if that was what she wanted to do. The great engines fascinated her, but so did the frail-looking “airplanes.” She yearned to learn more about Maaka-Kakja ’s many weapons. For now, however, she was more than content to be Lady Sandra’s “steward” while she learned the ropes and figured out what she did want to do.
She descended below the magazine compartments and the muted voices beyond locked doors, down into the very bottom of the ship. She knew the sea rose high around her outside the mighty hull, and down here she could even hear its booming, disconcerting rumble. Sometimes, she still grasped distant, nightmarish memories of her childhood voyage in the hold of a Company ship. The smell of rot and mildew brought them most readily to mind, but here, the new timbers still smelled sweet and the bilge had not yet soured. She took a lantern from its hook and advanced toward a raised deck where the officer’s stores were kept. She planned to cook something special tonight; as special as she knew how, for Lady Sandra and her friends. She needed some of the purple-brown sugar the “People” used for the glazed topping she wanted to make.
Something stirred in the darkness beyond her feeble light, startling her. All the thoughts of demons must have left her on edge. “Innyone there?” she called quietly. She heard another noise, a slight rustling. “Ach! You! Gi’out! Thisiz off ’ser’s stores! I’ll report ye!” she said, as menacing as she was able. Clutching the lantern and ready to swing it, she advanced. “Gi’out, I say! Show yersef!”
There was a loud clunk! and suddenly a gray-white form lunged from the darkness and fluttered in front of her face, accompanied by a thundering “Booby, booby-boo!”
Diania sprawled backward over one of the massive diagonal braces and dropped the lantern in the shallow water of the bilge. It hissed and died, plunging the compartment into darkness. With a cry, she scrambled to her feet and raced for the feeble light of the companionway she’d just descended, launching up the stairs like a rocket. Behind her, the deep, demonic voice continued chanting, “Booby-boo! Booby-boo!”
The demon didn’t pursue her. She made it through the darkened forward magazine spaces where the various types of ordnance were stored, levering past a growing number of staring ’Cat sailors and working her way aft. She’d chosen to traverse that deck instead of the one above because of the quicker association with non-demonic creatures, but now she was anxious to get into the light. Gasping, she raced up the compaionway forward of the number one fireroom and found herself on the broad but cluttered hangar deck. Spinning, looking for someone she knew, she attracted even more stares before scrambling to starboard through the jumble of “Nancys” and the surprised crews working on them. There was only one place left to go; she’d find Lady Sandra on the bridge. She might not believe her-Diania didn’t know Sandra’s position on demons-but she’d seen something in the hold, and people had to know… before whatever it was ate a hole in the ship!