“Chinakru ’ould like to know ’ore a’out the Grik,” Lawrence said.
Silva sighed. He could usually understand Lawrence pretty well, but the lizardy guy still talked like his mouth was full of rocks. A lot of what he said was pronounced almost perfectly, but there were some sounds he still just couldn’t do. “Well, tell him,” Silva said. “You know as much about ’em as I do. Maybe more.”
“He grows… exercised. He hates the idea o’ the Grik; the things I ha’ told… I think he wants to kill them.”
Silva snorted and dug in his shooting pouch for the last dry yellow tobacco leaves he’d been conserving. He upended the little pouch over his mouth, forming the loose leaf fragments into a dry wad. “That’s fine. Won’t hurt his standing with Saan-Kakja,” he said. “Have you explained the kind of war we’re fightin’? It’s gone way beyond spears an’ claws.”
“That is the issue that concerns… I. He cannot understand, not yet. Still, he desires to assist.”
“Hmm.”
Petey had seen Dennis put something in his mouth and tentatively squeaked, “Eat?” trying not to draw attention to himself. Silva plucked a leaf fragment from his mouth and tossed it at the little creature. Greedily, Petey snatched it and gulped it down. Almost instantly, he was making kack, kack sounds, but Silva ignored him. He looked at the lanterns glowing, swaying at the mastheads of the proas around them. “How many of his folks-your folks-will feel the same?” he wondered aloud.
“A lot,” Lawrence said, and Silva caught the concern. He understood it. Lawrence’s “new” people didn’t have a clue about this war. They were kind of like the Americans that wound up on the western front in the Great War, Silva suspected.
“Well, he needs to talk to Sandra, first off. Maybe Saan-Kakja or whoever’s in Manila. Maybe Shinya’s still there. Thankfully, I’m just a peon, who don’t have to sort things like that out.” He paused, looking around again. “Say,” he said, focusing on the lanterns. “The swells have laid down.” Immediately, he glanced to the south. The sky down there had been dark all day, almost like a Strakka, but he knew it wasn’t one. It was the spreading ash cloud of Talaud. Right now, he couldn’t see anything, except an absence of stars on the horizon. He reached over, and after a brief consideration of sea monsters, stuck his hand in the sea. There was a strange vibration. “What the devil?” he said. “That’s weird. Larry, scamper over there and wake Captain Lelaa. She needs to check this out.”
“She just go to slee’,” Lawrence said reluctantly.
“Blame me. Tell her I made you wake her up. You’ll be amazed what you can get away with when you do that. She can’t eat me, an’ I don’t care what rank they scrape off. They’ll just make me keep doin’ the same stuff anyway. I will eat you if you don’t get her over here chop-chop!”
“Eat!” Petey chirped happily. Lawrence snarled at him and moved off into the gloom where Lelaa slept. Fairly quickly, he returned with the’Cat in tow. She seemed alert, but still exhausted.
“What is it, Mr. Silva?” She was glancing at the moon and stars to make sure they were still on course.
“Feel the water.” Dennis paused. “Hell. You can hear somethin’ now. Kinda like a freight train a long way off. And the wind’s picking up, but the waves ain’t.”
Lelaa had never seen a freight train, but the reference wasn’t lost on her. She knew it was some kind of land steamer, and she cocked her head, ears questing. Her large, bright eyes widened. “Heavens above!” she gasped. “Wake everyone this instant! Rig lifelines-long ones-on everyone! The proas should float; the wood is naturally buoyant, but many may be swept away!”
Lawrence was translating rapidly to Chinakru, and the ex-Tagranesi raised his voice in alarm, spreading the word from boat to boat. Silva was impressed by how quickly the Lemurian sea captain took unquestioned command, mere moments after being awakened.
“Keep the lanterns lit. Some may survive and we’ll be widely scattered. Take in all sail! Out paddles! Steer north… for that star!” she instructed.
“Is it a wave?” Sandra asked, drawing near with a sleepy Rebecca in tow.
Lelaa blinked rapidly. “I fear so.” She looked at Dennis. “Your primary duty is the protection of these females, is it not?”
“Ah… yeah.”
“Then get them secured! As I said, use a long line. They may become separated from the boat-or it may overturn. They must remain secured, but not lashed, do you understand?”
“Aye, Cap’n.”
Lelaa looked around. The flotilla was disintegrating into confusion. Some were steering north already, but others continued on, seemingly unaware. “Mr. Silva, fire that monstrous gun of yours! Get everyone’s attention! Lives are at stake!” She faced forward. “Cap-i-taan Rajendra to the tiller!”
Nodding, Silva snatched up his beloved Doom Whomper and discharged it in the air. The growing, rushing rumble didn’t exactly mute it, but it did seem less loud than usual. Chinakru was startled by the shot, but quickly resumed his loud harangue. More boats turned. Silva slung the big musket and pouch tightly around his body, then tied lines around Sandra, Rebecca, and a just-arrived, confused Sister Audry. “Abel,” Dennis shouted, hoping the boy heard him, “you and Brassey strap in tight, but with a leader, see? Take a turn around the stoutest thing you can find!”
Finishing with Sandra and Rebecca, Silva interrupted Lelaa’s pacing and tied her down as well. She didn’t seem to notice. She was staring aft now, into the south. A groggy but almost panicky Rajendra lunged past them to the tiller, yelling for his other surviving Imperials to secure themselves as best they could, and Silva tried to make it to him with yet another line. The stern of the proa began to rise noticeably. A bewildered, terrified Petey cried out and launched himself at Rebecca, who caught him and clutched him close. Dennis couldn’t really see the wave; it was black as night, and no discernible crest rode atop it, but the angle of the sea was growing more “wrong” by the moment.
“Damn you, Rajendra,” Dennis shouted, flinging the line at the man now struggling mightily with the tiller. “Secure yourself!”
“Damn you, Mr. Silva!” Rajendra bellowed back. “Save the princess! We will resume our dispute in hell!” The stern continued its inexorable upward rise and Silva fell roughly atop Sandra and Sister Audry, who lay covering Rebecca with their bodies.
Sister Audry gasped under the weight of the impact. “Have you a line, Mr. Silva?” she demanded weakly as the proa passed thirty degrees-and kept going.
“I’ll manage!”
“Then… you may cling to me-this once-for the sake of the child! She may need you yet!”
The roar was all-consuming now, and the proa flipped onto its back. After that, there were only the terrified screams.
CHAPTER 29
New Scotland Dueling Ground
“ C ease independent fire!” Lieutenant Blair bellowed hoarsely at the top of his lungs. “Load and hold!”
All Dominion reserves had to be present now. The battle, since the despicable opening cannon fire against the Imperial bleachers, had raged for more than three hours, and attrition had taken a terrible toll on both sides. The troops were evenly matched in discipline and roughly so in equipment, but largely due to the Lemurian shields, now practically useless, the exchange had so far been in favor of the Imperials. Another mixed company of Marines had marched to join “Chack’s” line, delaying his plan but giving it twice the weight. No such reinforcements seemed available to the Dominion troops. Their infantry still had the advantage in numbers, but by only about two hundred men. That advantage was growing, however, because even as the Doms kept firing, the Imperial line had suddenly ceased. All became quiet there, except for the screams and the sounds of balls striking flesh.