“Master Kearley!”
With a terrible grinding, crunching sound, the titanic jaws gaped open, then closed once more on the pulvernt›
“Master Kearley!” shrieked the girl with a desolate, perfect anguish, while the rest of the ship was shattered by the impossible strength of the beast. The boiler burst with a thunderclap roar and a swirling, scalding gout of steam. Further enraged by the discomfort this might have caused, the leviathan redoubled its attack. Terrible screams and splintering timbers filled the night, but soon all that remained was the surging sound of the agitated sea.
The seaman who brought the muskets had gone over the side, so there was no hope for him. The girl collapsed into the bottom of the boat and wept with disconsolate abandon. For a while the big man could do nothing except stare into the empty, endless night. Occasionally, his gaze fell upon the ragged, pulsing stump of his left arm. The rest of it had been snatched away so suddenly, and with such force, all he remembered feeling was a tug and a pop. Now his life was coursing into the sea, and he already felt the loss. Shaking himself, he snatched his belt from his waist and wound it tightly around the stump. Shortly the cascade reduced to a trickle, but, light-headed, he sat heavily in the boat and looked down at the sobbing girl.
“Little miss,” he croaked, and the girl slowly raised her sodden eyes. “Yer Ladyship… I truly hate to impose, but if ye could see clear to bind me a bit better, I might be of more use to ye.”
Seeing his terrible wound, the girl recoiled for an instant, but then scrambled lightly across the seats to his side.
“I will do what I may,” she assured him bravely through her tears, “but I’m no surgeon.”
“That’s a fact,” he agreed with a wan smile, “but I’ve no doubt ye could be if ye wished.” As gently as she could, the girl tightened the tourniquet, then rummaged for something to use as a bandage. She finally settled for the sleeve on his other arm.
“They will search for us, won’t they?” she asked while she worked.
“Of course, lass.”
“Will they find us?”
The big man’s smile faded completely, and he gazed out at the dark, endless swells. They’d lost contact with their consorts some nights back, but that happened all the time. The other two ships wouldn’t grow concerned until several days after they reached the factory dock and the doomed ship and her important cargo still had not arrived. They’d traveled only half the distance to their destination, so it would be weeks before they were considered overdue. Months before the news reached home and a search was mounted. The wind and current would drive them quickly westward, far beyond the lanes traveled by men.
He blinked, then looked down into the huge, trusting eyes that seemed to pierce his callous soul.
“Of course they will, Your Highness.”
CHAPTER 1
There were a few scattered cheers, and Matt had to admit Nakja-Mur was becoming a skilled orator. It was also clear he’d decided to concentrate on the positive-even to the point of glossing over a few blatant facts, like the tragedy that made those forces available. He supposed there was no harm in that. Everyone knew the story already, and those who remained were committed to the fight. They had no choice. All the mighty seagoing Homes that meant to leave were already gone, either fled or acting as giant freighters for goods and raw materials from the Fil-pin lands. Once again he was struck by the similarity of their current situation to that the Americans had faced nearly a year before, when the Japanese swept the Asiatic Fleet from the Philippines and Dutch East Indies. The irony was, this time the Philippines were the distant haven, instead of the first place they got kicked out of.
Nakja-Mur continued: “Safir Maraan, Queen Protector of the island of B’mbaado, has come with her personal guard of six hundred warriors, as well as the majority of her entire defense force of almost two thousand seasoned warriors!” Nakja-Mur didn’t mention that over a thousand of B’mbaado’s best troops had been lost with Neracca. Neracca was the final Home to evacuate, and was intercepted by the enemy. Reddy’s old Asiatic Fleet “four-stacker” destroyer, USS Walker (DD-163), was escorting her to safety, and even tried to tow the much larger Home from the enemy’s clutches, all to no avail. Amagi, slowed by damage she received once before at the hands of the Americans, was still unimaginably powerful. She cruelly smote Neracca from what seemed to the Lemurians an impossible distance with her massive ten-inch guns. Walker saved as many as she could, becoming dangerously unstable with close to a thousand aboard, but in the end, the uncounted thousands remaining on Neracca were doomed.
Tassat-Ay-Arracca, her High Chief, sent his daughter, Tassana, in the final gri-kakka boat to cut the cable herself. Matt could only imagine the weight of grief bearing upon the child’s heart. In a fit of rage, or perhaps genius, he used the darkness, and the glare of the burning Home, to maneuver his damaged, overloaded ship into a position to fire his last remaining, fully functional torpedoes at the mighty ship. One exploded, damaging Amagi even further. Not enough to sink her, unfortunately, but enough to cause the Grik to postpone their final attack and turn their armada back to Aryaal. They must have decided, uncharacteristically, that they needed Amagi to ensure their success against what the Tree Prey had become (and the friends they’d made) since their last, ancient meeting. It was the only thing that gave Baalkpan this precious time they now had.
“Lord Muln-Rolak, Protector of Aryaal, has joined us with a trained force almost as large. Together with the majority of the civilian populations of both great cities upon which we can draw a levy, we stand prepared to face the enemy with over sixteen thousands able to bear arms!” There was a larger cheer, even though everyone must have realized how small that force was, compared to what was coming.
Nakja-Mur motioned Matt to join him.
“Cap-i-taan Reddy was acclaimed commander of the Allied Expeditionary Force, and he is the architect of its victories. The AEF has ended now, and with it the mandate of command. I propose he now be acclaimed Supreme Commander of the Allied defense of Baalkpan!” There were hoots and cheers, and the floor of the hall thundered with stamping feet. Matt just stood and watched until the tumult died away. “Then by acclamation, it is done! Cap-i-taan Reddy will assume command of all forces gathered here. Let all swear to follow his instructions in the coming fight. Swear on the honor of your clans! Swear now or leave!” Nakja-Mur turned to him then, and over the sound of the vigorous affirmations, he spoke in Matt’s ear: “It is done. I’ve given them reason to hope, I think. I imagine you’ll temper that with a large measure of despair. Taken together, perhaps a realistic expectation will emerge.”
“I’ll try to keep it upbeat, but I won’t lie to them, my lord,” Matt answered him. “These are our officers. We’ll have a chance only if they know exactly what we face.” He turned to the crowd and cleared his throat. Beginning with a summation of the previous campaign, he recounted how his ship had led the newly cannon-armed Homes against the invasion fleet that invested Aryaal. He told of the great victory in the bay, and how they landed and fought a desperate battle against the besieging force-a battle they won only by the skin of their teeth, prolific use of Walker ’s modern weapons, and the timely assistance of Queen Maraan and Lord Rolak. He didn’t dwell on the treachery of Rolak’s king that cost them many lives, and nearly the battle. King Rasik Alcas was surely dead by now. He told how they found Walker ’s long-lost sister, USS Mahan (DD-102), and the pitifully few members of her crew who’d survived their own terrible ordeal. He spoke of things they’d learned about the enemy-still far too little-but also about how they’d defeated them. The Grik were terrifying warriors, but they fought without discipline-or even much thought. They’d beaten them, and they could do it again.