Iron Gray Sea

EPILOGUE

The South of Africa

Lieutenant Toryu Miyata was much recovered from his grueling ordeal. He still mourned his lost friends, but he’d been close enough to death himself, from exposure, that their loss had dimmed, and become somehow remote. Since his rescue, however, and during his gradual recuperation, he’d grown to realize that he’d stumbled into perhaps the most bizarre situation yet encountered on this strange world.

He hadn’t seen it himself, but someone once told him about an odd book they’d read before the war about a place called Shangri-La. Somehow, he thought he remembered that the tale was set in China or Tibet, or some such place, but he’d honestly begun to wonder if he hadn’t actually found it here on what had to be the south coast of Africa, despite the chill. He hadn’t spent any time out of doors yet, or really even out of the room he’d been recuperating in, but there were windows, and he spent a lot of time staring out at the strange city. Never in his life had he seen such an… extraordinary combination of peoples-and not all of them were human! — yet they commingled and appeared to get along as well amid the bustle, as any similar number might in Tokyo!

And the architecture! He knew of nothing to compare it to. He was young, and before the Navy he’d never traveled before, but the substantial buildings he saw from his window combined what he considered ancient traditional, eastern design with what he supposed was some kind of equally ancient western construction-and something else completely different-in an amazingly complementary fashion that he wouldn’t have thought possible. The result was a harmony of wood and stone, columns and high pagodas that had clearly been blending together long enough that it seemed somehow right. Curved, ornate roofs predominated, covered with tile or copper, but the columns that supported them flowed as well, sometimes tapering toward the center, with admirable stonework at the top and bottom.

Bright colors abounded beneath the often-overcast sky, and teeming throngs surged in the open markets in equally garish costumes. Stunningly bizarre animals, the like of which he’d never seen among the Grik, pulled long trains of carts loaded with goods or passengers. Several times he saw columns of troops dressed in a warmer, more practical, but also more ornate version of what some of his comrades had termed the Grik Roman-style military garb, march past his window, the crowd parting before them. Just as among the civilian populace, all manner of beings were in their ranks. It was outlandish and amazing and disconcerting all at once.

His nurse-a female human! — appeared normal enough, and was clearly of Asian descent, though he had no idea what other blood she carried. She was nice, attentive, and even beautiful, he thought, but he didn’t understand a word she said. It was all so confusing. His nurse was Asian, but his “rescuers” spoke English-and he would have sworn one of them had a German accent! He didn’t think he was a prisoner-no one seemed to guard him-but what was he? Probably not exactly a guest. He believed he was recovered enough that he might be ready to explore, but hesitated to push his bounds without talking to someone first, and as far as he could tell, except for the nurse, he’d been forgotten.

He was alone at the moment, and heavy, booted footsteps sounded in the corridor beyond his chamber. He tensed, expecting visitors at last, and stood from his chair. He wished he could meet his benefactors in his uniform, but its remnants had been destroyed, he was sure, and he tried to affect a stoic expression while dressed only in the ankle-length woolen robe he’d been given.

Two men appeared in the broad doorway, accompanied by what looked exactly like one of the Lemurian allies of the Americans! All regarded him intently for a moment before stepping inside. He remained standing, stiffly at attention.

“You look better,” said a tall, bearded man in accented English. He wore a battered dark blue, or maybe black, hat with a scuffed leather brim with an embroidered cockade Toryu didn’t recognize. He also wore an equally battered dark blue jacket, but his white shirt, trousers, and heavy boots were clearly much newer. Toryu thought he recognized the German who’d found him. The man spoke to the others in what sounded like the same language the nurse used, then turned to face him again. “I am Becher Lange,” the man said, and shrugged. “My kapitan calls me kapitan leutnant now, but I was only a fireman in SMS Amerika when she staggered into this world, so it makes no difference to me what the old man calls me. You and I have met, though you may not remember. Call me Becher.” He extended a hand, and Toryu saw a bright metal oval on his wrist, held by a leather band. He also noted how matter-of-factly he spoke of how he got here, obviously fully expecting Toryu to know what he meant.

“Thank you, sir,” Toryu replied, he hoped properly, in his imperfect English. Awkwardly, he shook the hand. He’d never done that before. “You and your companion doubtless saved my life, for which I am grateful, but the news I carry is of great importance to you, I assure you.”

“ Ja. That is what you said.”

Toryu blinked. He had no memory of what he’d said to the man.

“I will introduce these others,” Becher said, “and you will tell them your news.”

Toryu bowed. “Of course.” Never did it occur to him that talking to any enemy of the Grik might be treason. He knew almost nothing about his current situation, but he’d somehow managed to escape the Grik-and that madman Kurokawa. He was dead to them, and if he didn’t help these people, they would all be dead, eventually.

The other human with Becher was introduced as General Marcus Kim-and what kind of name was that? — who represented the military high command of this… Republic of Real People, Becher called it. The Lemurian was “Inquisitor Kon-Choon.” The term “inquisitor” made Toryu nervous, until it was explained that he was actually a high-level intelligence officer. That made sense.

“What do you know of us here?” Becher translated for Kim.

“Personally, nothing, sir. The Grik may know more, but I do not think so.” There was further discussion in the strange tongue, and Toryu caught the word “Ghaarrichk’k.” Apparently, that was the local name for the implacable, barbarous creatures he’d escaped. This was quickly confirmed.

“We know of the Ghaarrichk’k, the Grik, here,” Becher confirmed. “We maintain a frontier against them, and patrolling it is how I found you.” He paused. “We know of them, and know they will not talk. All contact with them has been hostile. Beyond that, we know little. Are they numerous? How vast is their territory? Can we talk to them?”

“You can talk to them,” Toryu admitted, frowning. “In fact, I was sent here to speak with you on their behalf.” He shook his head. “They want an alliance with you-against other people like us.” He waved his hand to include the Lemurian. “All of us.”

“What kind of alliance? What are their terms?” Becher asked for the Inquisitor.

“A military alliance, sir, and the terms are simple: Join or die.”

“That is a… bold ultimatum to make against people they do not know,” Becher growled. “Can they make good on their threat?”

“That is their way,” Toryu stated simply. “Sir, I know nothing of your land, its population, resources, or military capability.” He pointed at the window. “All I know is what I have seen through that, so I cannot say if they can conquer you or not. I will tell you everything I know, however. I was sent here with a message, a message I have delivered. Having escaped them, I will not return, so it is in my interest to counsel you as best I can.” He paused. “The Grik are without number, and their empire stretches from just north of here to India, at least along the coasts. You do know the shape of the world?”

“ Ja,” Becher said, and Toryu nodded. Whatever the others were, Becher was a sailor, and obviously a relatively recent arrival.

“They had conquered their way as far as the East Indies before they were thrown back by those other people I mentioned,” Toryu continued, “but I fear that is only a temporary setback, since their numbers are almost infinitely greater than their enemies.” He looked Becher in the eye. “They are involved in the biggest war they have ever known, but whether they can conquer you or not, they will eventually try. And if they succeed… they do not take prisoners, but for food.”

Becher spoke animatedly with the others for several long moments before turning back. “Why, then, do I feel that joining them is not what you recommend?”

“Because they will surely destroy you then,” Toryu answered softly, “starting with your souls. I hate them, you see. I hate them for what they are and what they do-and because they have already destroyed the souls of my people they hold in their power.”

“Who are your people?” Becher asked, also softly, and Toryu stiffened.

“I came to this world aboard the Japanese Imperial Navy battle cruiser Amagi almost two years ago. At that time, we were allied with Germany and Italy against virtually the rest of the world, but most especially the British and Americans.”

“The Japs have joined the kaiser? And the Italians?” Becher laughed. “When last I knew, you both were leaning the other way… and America came in against us?”

Toryu looked at him strangely. “Ah… no. We did not join the kaiser. We fought against him-with the Americans, before I was born… Sir, if you would: when did you come to this world?”

“Nineteen fourteen,” Becher said, frowning. “Nearly thirty years ago now. My ship, SMS Amerika — that is ironic! — was taken from the passenger service and commissioned as an armed merchant cruiser. We captured the crews of nine British ships-that is why there are so many Britishers here with us! — and scuttled their ships.” His expression grew faraway. “Never did war prisoners enjoy such luxury! Amerika was a gorgeous thing!” Almost forcibly, he returned to the present. “She was badly damaged in battle with the Morrie, we called her. The Mauritania! She was armed too! What a fight! She was faster, of course, with her damned turbines, but so big, we could not miss her! Both of us were damaged, and we broke off the fight in the storm. But you might tell me! Did we sink the Morrie? I actually hope we did not”-he grinned-“but sometimes I hope we did! We were old rivals before the war for the Blue Riband!”

Toryu was confused. “I… I do not think so. There was a Mauritania carrying British troops to Singapore in 1942, but she might have been a newer ship with the same name.”

“Well, but what of the war? You Japs-with battle cruisers no less! — have joined us?”

Toryu’s face heated. “We did not join you! Your kaiser was defeated! Our war, besides our conquest of Asia, began little more than two years ago, and the Imperial Japanese Navy, the most powerful in the world, was in the process of destroying the combined fleets of the Americans and British! Only your submarines were of any use!” He stopped, realizing he’d given offense, but Becher’s expression only looked… odd again.

“The kaiser defeated? Impossible!” he muttered. Then he said something that stunned Toryu Miyata to the bone. “Yet another, different world again, then.” He saw Toryu’s expression and grunted. “You are surprised? Let me try to explain to you, quickly, of our land and our peoples, and you may understand. You may also then pass a… better-informed counsel.”

The Lemurian jabbered suddenly, then, and Becher listened before turning back to Toryu.

“In fact, if you feel able, Inquisitor Choon believes you should meet immediately with the kaiser- our kaiser, or cae-saar, as they say, at the War Palace. The maps there are the best.”

“I am able,” Toryu assured him, a little taken aback but determined. “After all, there is little time to lose.”

They supplied him with boots and a cloak and led him down the corridor to a side entrance facing the cobblestone street, and he stepped outside for the first time in… three weeks? Four? He jerked back when he came almost face-to-face with a huge, drooling, camel-like face that regarded him with disinterest before it swung away-on the end of a long, gray-furred neck, almost as long as a giraffe’s, but not nearly so upright. Becher laughed.

“He likes you! Sometimes those will bite!” He gestured to a long car, like a Pullman, hitched behind the beast and another like it. “We have steam cars,” Becher announced proudly. “We have been busy in our thirty years! But we do not bring them into the city.” He waved around. So many strange creatures! “They unnerve the animals-and the people!”

On either side of the Pullman car sat three guards in their Romanesque costumes, mounted on ordinary horses. One of them waved.

“There you are! Good to see you up and about!” The man paused at Toryu’s confused expression. “Blimey! I’m the other bloke what found you! Saved you, I did!” The man, also wearing a gray-streaked beard, tossed his chin at Becher. “You didn’t think that dastardly Hun’d give a toss if you lived or died?” He was grinning. “I’m Leftenant Doocy Meek, if you care to know!”

“I am appreciative, sir,” Toryu managed as he was hurried into the car.

“Doocy is a funny man,” Becher said gruffly, pulling Toryu into a seat beside him. “We all take our turns riding the frontier-anyone beneath the rank of centurion,” he added, by way of further explanation. “We, most of us from Amerika, are still considered part of the foreign centuries, but we also guard the War Palace and all access to it!”

Toryu started to ask how that could be, when the car shuddered and began to move. After that, his questions about the city came in rapid fire.

This amazingly exotic capital city of the Republic of Real People, or Volksrepublik, as Becher called it, was named Aalek-saan-draa, and the mixture of architecture and cultures that created it began to make some sense to Toryu as Becher answered his questions, and he saw the evidence with his own eyes.

He finally knew, knew, that whatever had happened to his Amagi — and the Americans-in the Java Sea was not unique. Many peoples had found themselves in this place over the millennia. The southern cape of Afri-kaa formed a bottleneck of sorts, between the land and the not-so-distant ice of Antarctica. The storms that plagued the same passage on Toryu’s world were even more intense here, and the seas more mountainous. And it was cold, if not always on land, then forever at sea. In a way, it was only logical, he decided, that so many people, so many ships throughout the centuries, trying to round the bitter cape, perhaps even unaware of the change they’d endured, should wind up here. They would be exhausted, their ships almost destroyed, but where they would be lost upon some other shore, here they found welcome… and a home.

The oldest inhabitants were Lemurians, who’d wound up there after their ancient exodus to escape the Grik. These were later joined by Chinese explorers, Ptolemaic Egyptians, black Africans, and even Romans (from the tenth century!) who established what had become the republic. That didn’t add up. Toryu knew little of history, but there seemed to be a number of… different… histories represented here. Histories even his limited knowledge told him were not quite right.

He shook his head as his mind flailed in this whirlpool of new, contradictory information, and he wondered briefly why no such place existed elsewhere that he’d been. Then he bitterly remembered the Grik. Any lost explorers, traders, or even small fleets that arrived off their shores were only prey to be conquered and devoured. But why did the Americans and their Lemurian allies not have other… friends as well? Were their outposts too remote and scattered? Was there no choke point in their seas? Becher told him that the castaways most often came from the west, in “modern times.” Examples of those had been Boers, British, Dutch, and Portuguese. Did that mean the… force that took them was more prevalent in the Atlantic? Was it even the same? It was all so confusing! He suddenly felt strangely relieved to learn that Amerika ’s arrival was the most recent, by far, so, though not unheard of, the phenomenon was rare.

The enmity of their old war suppressed, her German crew and mixed allied prisoners had been working together for thirty years to improve republic technology to a level similar to what Toryu knew of the Alliance. Becher didn’t mention aircraft or steamships, which they obviously had the technology to make, but as the car wound through the streets, drawing nearer to the sea, Toryu saw with his own eyes what looked like good artillery. He also inspected the small arms of the escort riding alongside. They were bolt action, probably large-bore single shots, evidenced by the lack of any floor plate in front of the triggerguard. Decent weapons, then. He wondered what else they had, but didn’t press. Despite what they’d already told him, they had no real reason to trust him yet. He’d admitted the rest of his people were in league with the Grik, after all.

“What is that?” he suddenly cried, pointing at a… person? Working alongside others of its kind in what increasingly resembled a seaport district. “I mean… those?” The creatures were as tall as humans, but with fur and tails-and their faces were more human than… Becher followed his gaze, and frowned.

“They are… how should I say… half-bloods, yes?”

“Half-bloods?”

“Crossbreeds, hybrids. Made long ago when only the Chinese and Mi-Anaaka-that is the name for the Lemurians, as you call them-lived in this place.”

Toryu shuddered in spite of himself.

Becher noticed. “You do not like that? Well, neither does anyone else. Interbreeding is strictly verboten-forbidden-in the republic. No one, not humans, not Mi-Anaaka, not even the half-bloods themselves are happy such things once occurred. They cannot blame themselves for what they are, and neither does anyone else-now. They are their own species and intent on remaining so. Such things no longer happen; it is the law, but… women have always been in short supply. Not often are they on the ships that come. We brought a few, and there were African women. Some others came, and there have always been a few, but never enough, even now.” Becher sighed. “Mi-Anaaka remain the most populous citizens by far.

“We and those who came before have built a good country here, a country to be proud of, but it has not been easy, as you can imagine! There are so many views and so many threats! This is a republic, as I have said, but there is an… authoritarian ruler whose word is absolute, and most often just. You must learn the history of this country, but, in short, there was war here for many generations between the humans, Mi-Anaaka, and the half-bloods. It took the Romans to end that-and tension still simmers! Add to that the Grik! Our society is, of necessity, integrated, but very disciplined. We have a tradition of welcoming new arrivals because of low population levels. You would think things would have equalized by now, but women do remain in short supply. This is a harsh land at times, and though we avoid major clashes with the Grik on the frontier, those clashes do occur. There is also the weather, and many predatory monsters encroach on our lands, perhaps driven by the Grik, that can’t be hunted to their source across the Grik frontiers! And there have been other violent encounters at this geographic bottleneck. Some of the occasional arrivals are NOT friendly.” He paused. “This is… a bad land for women. A bad world. And though we are not now at war, we must always remain prepared. With the news you bring, I hope we are prepared enough.” He stopped, peering southwest.

“Ah! There it is,” he said with some humor. “The War Palace!”

Toryu was still digesting what Becher had said, but when he looked toward the harbor, he was even more stunned. He’d seen the garish ways rickshaws and taxis were sometimes decorated, particularly when Amagi visited the Philippines once, before the war, but what had been done to SMS Amerika was beyond even that, and on a massive scale.

The ship’s elegant lines remained essentially the same as when she arrived, with her straight up-and-down bow and two tall, slender funnels. Toryu later learned the once-great luxury liner was 670 feet long, 74 feet wide, and displaced more than 22,000 tons. She boasted twin screws and two triple-expansion engines that once drove her through the sea at close to 20 knots, and was still fitted to carry 2,500 passengers in reasonable-to-palatial style. All that was likely still true, but the ship’s upper works were now decorated just at sweepingly as the buildings in the city. Her riveted hull was a riot of colors, painted with everything from what looked like eagles to dragons. Colorful awnings fluttered over her broad decks, and a truly wild variety of flags and banners streamed to leeward of her high, thin foremast.

“Can she still move?” Toryu wondered aloud, seeing black smoke wisping above the aft funnel.

“ Ja, if she must,” Becher said with an awkward chuckle. “She is the War Palace, after all. The point is that she can move the kaiser and his staff to other places. We have several port cities, almost as large as this, up the southwest coast.” He paused. “Is it practical to move her?” He shrugged. “Steam is maintained to power her electrics and her pumps, and her engines are tested twice a year. But she has not been out of the water for over thirty years. There is no dry dock large enough to accommodate her. Whether it is advisable to move her is another thing. Her bottom plates have become thin, I think.”

The strange beasts pulling the car grumbled to a stop, and the party stepped out onto a dock and onto a long pier that seemed almost permanently attached to the ship. Doocy climbed down from his horse and joined them.

“The anchorage remains well protected,” he said, pointing at some low mountains to the southeast. “That’s why we keep her here.” There were other ships in the harbor too, sailing schooners mostly, but there were also what looked like iron monitors with low freeboards, tall funnels, and big guns snugged to the pier leading to the big ship. “Those are for harbor defense,” Doocy added, noting Toryu’s gaze. “They cannot survive in the heavy seas beyond-but they serve their function. The schooners trade with our other ports and other places as well, but no sailing ship can hope to round the cape from the east.”

“Even if they could, they would find nothing but Grik along the eastern shore,” Toryu warned.

“Aye. But perhaps there are others beyond?” Doocy pressed, and Toryu wondered what all he may have said while he was delirious, if Doocy already knew.

“There are,” he confirmed simply as they strode along the pier. He’d already determined to be completely honest with these people. He had no more reason to trust them than they did him-yet-but they’d saved him and they weren’t Grik. That’s all that really mattered for now.

They came at last to Amerika ’s garish side and were met by more Romanesque guards, who saluted his companions in the modern way. He didn’t know what he’d expected-a fist to the breastplate? Maybe German traditions prevailed aboard the ship? He was led inside, down several ornate corridors, up a grand staircase, and finally into what had to have once been the first-class dining salon. It was a very large compartment, and, unlike the exterior of the ship, its passenger-era elegance had not been tampered with-with the exception of a raised “throne,” for lack of a better term, built of matching woods and adorned with similar carvings to those decorating the entire chamber. Upon the throne sat a Lemurian, a Mi-Anaaka, dressed in silklike robes of embroidered blue that matched the curtains and valances over the windows, but of a higher, more ornate quality.

Beside the throne stood a tall, thin man of at least eighty, Toryu guessed, wearing a black-blue coat with twin rows of shiny buttons. He wore a wide, white, waxed mustache, but the only hair on his weathered scalp was a thin white wisp. A dark hat similar to Becher’s was clutched against his side by an arm.

Toryu’s companions saluted, and Toryu saluted and jerked a bow. As fascinating as he found the pair, however, his eyes immediately swept to the carefully painted map that dominated the entire wall behind the throne. The detail was astonishing in certain places, almost as if he were viewing the world from the distant sky above. The borders of the republic were clearly marked, encompassing all of southern Africa behind a diagonal frontier that extended some distance up the west coast. Beyond that line, the detail was much less defined, but the coastlines bordering the Atlantic Ocean had been rendered with confidence, even if they didn’t quite match his own memory. Somehow he knew that confidence must have been a result of exploration, because all the coasts east of the cape, coasts he knew, were less exact.

“Ahh! You admire our atlas, eh?” asked the old man in a surprisingly firm, lightly accented English. Toryu was startled for an instant, but the man had apparently once commanded a passenger liner, after all. “We wandered the Atlantic and charted some of the… ah… differences, before we came to this place,” he said. “That was quite an adventurous time,” he reflected with a frown. “And there are some… interesting, and often unpleasant, places beyond our little refuge! Perhaps you can add to our knowledge of points east?” He paused, glancing at the Lemurian. “Excuse me. May I present His Most Excellent Highness, the Emperor Nig-Taak. You may call him Kaiser, Cae-saar, Tszaar-whatever. He does not mind.” He smiled toothlessly. “I am Kapitan Adlar Von Melhausen, commander of this ship and keeper of the War Palace, by the kaiser’s grace. You have already met General Marcus Kim and Inquisitor Choon, as well as your rescuers, Misters Lange and Meek!”

Toryu bowed again. “I am honored, sir. I am Lieutenant Toryu Miyata, formerly Junior Navigating Officer of His Imperial Japanese Majesty’s Ship Amagi. Please let me express my appreciation for my rescue and the hospitality that has been shown me.”

“You are welcome, of course,” said the kaiser in a soft, strangely accented voice, speaking for the first time. “As Mr. Lange was instructed to inform you, many people have found refuge with us in the past.” He waved a hand. “It is an unsympathetic world beyond our land. It can be harsh even here.” He peered closely at Miyata with intense, almost purple-brown eyes. “I understand you bring word that further… unpleasantness threatens to descend upon us.”

“Yes, your…” he paused. “Yes, Your Majesty. I was ordered to come to you with an offer of a sort of alliance with the, ah, Ghaarrichk’k, as they call themselves, against other people in the east, similar to those who abide here. People both human and Mi-Anaaka, who threaten the Grik for the first time in their history. I stress again that I was commanded to do this, though, in honesty, I cannot recommend it, and I humbly ask you for asylum.”

Nig-Taak leaned back on his throne. “Indeed? Well, fear not. You shall have asylum. But what do the Grik think they can do to us if we do not accept their offer to join their war against others of our kind?”

“They think they will annihilate you,” Toryu answered softly. Nig-Taak laughed.

“Do they, now? They have had long enough to try in the past-we have guarded against each other for over three hundred years! How can they now do-while threatened elsewhere! — what they have never dared attempt in the past?”

“With respect, Lord, they do not like this land; it can be too cold for them. They have never considered it a worthy place to conquer. As for daring… My lord, you must believe me! If you do not join them, they will come-unless they are more sorely pressed elsewhere than they are at present.”

“Let them come!” Von Melhausen snapped. “We can meet them anywhere they strike with fifteen, perhaps twenty thousand, disciplined troops!”

Toryu paled. “Kapitan, Your Majesty, I beg you to hear! I will not counsel you to agree to their demands, but you must know I watched them assemble perhaps half a million warriors for an oversea campaign! That force was hurled back, but it pales to insignificance compared to what they now prepare! They have built a thousand ships in only the past year, and they have learned much from their enemies-and, yes, those of my people who aid them. They have artillery, aircraft… and just imagine what they could bring against you this close to their major population centers! I am sure your troops are excellent, but it is not that they have not dared to come against you. They have not cared to!” He paused.

“Maybe they will not come immediately. The Alliance against them has grown amazingly and assembled powerful forces of its own, qualitatively better than the Grik.” He shook his head. “But, honestly, I fear they are taunting a giant in the dark! They cannot truly know what they face! I have seen their multitudes, how quickly they can breed if they desire. I have seen the scope of their preparations, and it is not a… natural thing. Even now their population nears the maximum they can even feed! I fear they will destroy the Alliance in time, and even if they wait until then to come, they will bring more warriors than they will want to survive!”

Toryu heard Doocy gasp and saw Von Melhausen pale. Nig-Taak did not appear to react beyond a rapid blinking. Toryu knew almost nothing of Lemurians, and had no idea what it meant.

“I cannot believe it!” Von Melhausen snorted when he gathered himself. “And why should we believe it, my kaiser?” He gestured at Toryu. “This man just wanders in out of the wilderness with this wild tale…”

“ I believe it, Kap-i-taan,” Nig-Taak said resignedly. “All at once, it is perfectly clear. We always wondered, but now it makes flawless sense! Do you not see? They never attacked us here in force because they did not want our land, but now they cannot afford a threat to their rear! That is the source of this offer! Then, whether we help them or not, they will merely use us to stabilize their numbers once more!”

He turned back to Toryu. “You say we must not help them and I agree. They are monsters and enemies of my race since before the beginning of time, but… what else can we do?”

To Toryu, it was suddenly obvious. “They will likely think I have perished, with all the others with me. We were sent at a poor time of year. Suspecting my envoy did not survive, they might send another. If it arrives, perhaps under the direction of a more… committed ambassador, you must stall them and prepare.”

“Prepare for what?” Von Melhausen asked grudgingly, almost hopelessly, as the enormity and probable veracity of Toryu’s revelation sank in.

“To fight them!” Toryu insisted. “Build more weapons, grow your armies, and somehow contact your natural allies! The ones who fight them already!”

“We still have the transmitter aboard here, though it is never used,” mused Becher. Then he shrugged at Miyata. “It is a dangerous world, and we never know what we might attract! We do listen…” He paused. “We might send them a message!”

“That you must not do!” Toryu warned. “Though he never told the Grik, my former commander, Captain Kurokawa-he styles himself General of the Sea now-has retained communication devices. He will probably hear any message you send, and warn his masters!”

“Then how can we contact these natural allies you speak of?” Nig-Taak asked, frustrated.

Toryu looked at him. “Your Highness, you must go and meet them.”

“How?” Doocy demanded. “As we’ve told you, no sailing vessel nor the few seagoing steamers we have can round the cape. They are just too small to survive those seas!”

Toryu gazed almost helplessly around. There was only one answer, and it was obvious to him.

“What?” challenged Von Melhausen. “You cannot mean…! But Amerika ’s hull has grown as thin as an egg! I could knock a hole in it with a hammer in the shaft alleys!”

“But an egg is still very strong,” Kaiser Nig-Taak reminded quietly. “And I am sure you will avoid any hostile hammers.”

“It will take months to prepare,” Von Melhausen objected, his mind already shifting to embrace the inevitable. “Some repairs are essential. This ship has not been to sea for twenty years-and neither have I!”

“Then begin your repairs at once, mein Kap-i-taan,” Nig-Taak advised. “You do not have unlimited months. One or two, you may have, if God permits.”