“What?”
“Just an idea. I’ll tell you later.” He gestured at the arriving launch, and one of the men clambered onto the dock. He seemed surprised to see the captain. “Are you ready to go back to the ship, Skipper?”
Matt glanced at Sandra. She shook her head.
“Not just yet.”
Another man climbed from the boat, cursing. It was Tony Scott, trying to get farther from the water-at least until the next load forced him to cross it again. The two destroyermen stayed discreetly out of earshot.
“You’re not using them up,” Sandra said in a quiet voice. “The men, I mean. The world-this world, the one we left-it doesn’t matter. The world uses them up despite anything you do. If you’re not careful, you can use yourself up. You love your men. They know it and so do I.” She looked up at him and, for a moment, he saw the lights of the city shining in her eyes. “And we all love you for it. That and other things.” He swallowed, trying to remain impassive. What did she mean by that?
“We love you because we know you’ll do whatever you can to keep us safe. But we also know we’re at war. No matter what else has changed, that hasn’t, and sometimes you have to risk the thing you love to keep it safe.” She nodded toward the ship. “They know that, and they know because you’re the man you are, you’ll risk them if you have to.” She sighed. “When we have fuel, we could just leave. We could go to the Philippines, or Australia. Maybe find fuel there. Eventually get to Hawaii, or even the West Coast. Maybe there aren’t any Grik there. Maybe there’s something just as bad, but what if there’s not? We’d be ‘safe,’ but what then? We need friends if we’re going to survive, and we’ve been lucky and made some. They happen to be in a fight for their lives. Besides being the best way to keep us safe, in the long run, helping them is the right thing to do. Your men understand that, Captain Reddy, and I bet if you put it to a vote, most would choose to stay. They know they might die. Life on a destroyer’s dangerous work. They could have died ‘back home’ any day of the week, a thousand different ways, before the war even started. So the best way you can ensure that most won’t die is to continue doing your job the best you know how. And when the time comes, fight your ship! Don’t worry about what you can’t control-just fight to win!” She grinned then, her small teeth flashing. “And quit feeling guilty for getting us into this mess! It was an accomplishment, not a failure!”
“I, ah, how…?”
Her grin became a gentle smile. “I live only two doors down, ‘doors’ being thin green curtains, and you talk in your sleep.”
He cleared his throat and looked in the direction of the sailors near the launch.
“No, not bad,” she assured him. “But I know you blame yourself for everything from Marvaney’s death to losing Mahan.” Her smile faded. “That has to stop. If you don’t start getting some rest while you sleep, you will start making mistakes.”
He nodded at her. “I’ll try. And thanks, Lieutenant.”
She gave him a stern look. “You call the other officers by their first names in informal situations, why not me?”
“Well, because…”
“Because I’m a woman? I’m also your friend. At least I hope so. I think Keje even still thinks I’m your wife! Don’t you think we could use first names, at least when no one’s watching?”
Matt felt his cheeks burn, but nodded. He wondered how slippery a slope that would prove to be. “Okay… Sandra. But only when nobody’s watching.” His voice was quite serious as he spoke. “I’m sure you must know why.”
Of course she knew why, and as she suspected, it was duty that kept him distant. Duty to his men. She felt a thrill to realize he really was interested in her, but also a deep sadness that the situation prevented them from acknowledging it. She forced a smile.
“Yes, Matthew. I understand.”
Right then, the look on her face, the tone of her voice-he might have kissed her in spite of everything, to hell with the consequences. If Silva hadn’t intervened. More precisely, if the growing calamity of the spectacle that Silva was generating hadn’t done so.
A rampaging super lizard would have seemed sedate compared to his arrival. He was literally wearing half of Dowden’s “flying” shore patrol. Even as they watched, one of Dowden’s men-Fred Reynolds-went “flying” dangerously close to the edge of the pier. On second glance, he wouldn’t have fallen, since he was chained to Silva’s wrist.
“Lemme go!” he roared. “Where’d you take my girl? I’m in the mood for luuuve!”
“Oh, my God.”
Not to be outdone by his predecessors, Dennis began singing as the men wrestled him closer to the captain: “I joined the Nay-vee to see the world! And what did I see? I saw the sea! I’m not… I won’t?. .. I don’t get seasick, but I’m awful sick of seeeaa!” He vomited on Reynolds, who was lying at his feet. “Archg! Sorry, boy…” He looked wildly around. “Where’s my girl? My lady love! I ain’t through dancin’ yet!” He proceeded into an astonishingly graceful waltz-for a drunk with two men hanging on him and another chained to his arm. He stopped suddenly, as though surprised at himself, and hooted: “I’m a Grammaw!” Then he saw the captain. He came to swaying, exaggerated attention and saluted, dragging poor Reynolds to his feet. “Eav-nin’, Skipper! Lootenit Tucker!”
“Mr. Silva.” Matt nodded. “You seem… true to form.”
“Aye, aye, sir! Cheap seep! Hell, it’s free!” He belched loudly.
“Are you ready to return to the ship? Peacefully?”
Silva blinked, looking around. “Hell, no! These bastards has… adducted… obstructed… swiped me from my wife!”
“What? What? Mr. Dowden, what’s the meaning of this?” Before Larry could even begin to explain, there came a shriek from the darkness.
“Si-vaa!” Two brindled shapes ran toward them, one ahead of the other. The first, obviously female, leaped on the gunner’s mate and, combined with his other passengers, nearly knocked him down at last. Matt thought she was attacking him until she wrapped her arms around his neck and started licking his face.
“There’s my darlin’ angel!” he cooed.
The other brindled shape caught up and slammed to attention, but even in the dark, it was clear that Chack-Sab-At was quivering with rage.
“What the hell’s going on here!” Matt bellowed. “Silva, what have you done?”
“Cap-i-taan!” said Chack, “that’s my sister, Risa. She is unwell. That giant… creature has intoxicated her and…”
“He mate? He marry me!” Risa squealed happily. “He Sab-At clan now!”
“Never!” seethed Chack. Sandra’s hand now covered her mouth in earnest, but Matt couldn’t tell if she was hiding shock or laughter.
“My God, Silva, I swear! If you’ve done anything to damage our relationship with these people, or if you forced… God! Are you insane? I’ll hang you!”
“Skipper, I’ll swear on a Bible or Marvaney’s record stack-whatever you say-”
“You lie!” shouted Chack.
“He no lie!” Risa purred. “Nobody mad but silly Chack. People no mad. People no… embarrassed? By mate! Si-vaa love Risa!”
The shore party, those that could, eased away. Chack’s ears were back and his tail swished like a cobra. He looked about to strike. Matt was preparing another volcanic response when Sandra tugged his sleeve and whispered in his ear. He looked sharply at her and was incredulous when he saw her nod.