Maelstrom

CHAPTER 10

Tsalka glared across the water as Kurokawa’s launch returned to his ship. “You know, General, I still detest that creature.”

General Esshk hissed agreement. “But he is useful. His iron ship is still slowed by damage, he says, but at least it floats evenly now.” He hissed amusement, remembering Kurokawa’s stormy indignation and fury toward their enemies after they blew another hole in his mighty ship almost four moons ago. “He is also highly motivated,” he added cryptically.

“Their iron ship is wondrously powerful,” Tsalka agreed. “I will never forget the concussion of its great guns, and the damage it inflicted on the huge ship of the prey. Magnificent!”

“Most impressive,” Esshk hedged. He gazed at the lumbering iron monstrosity. Black smoke belched from its middle as it burned the coal that somehow pushed it along. Despite its amazing power, he must not forget that the Tree Prey had friends who could damage it. It was ensconced deep within the protective embrace of the main body of the “Invincible Swarm” (as opposed to the previous, ill-fated Grand Swarm) to protect it from another surprise eottom.”

“They’ll see them, won’t they?” questioned Hale.

“Maybe,” Gray agreed. “But what are they gonna do about it? We’ll rig it so’s they can’t squeeze between ’em without hitting another. Top it off by putting out way more barrels than we have depth charges too. It’ll be just a matter of tying an anchor to ’em and heavin’ ’em over the side. That’s how we’ll leave a clear channel for Walker to come back through, without it lookin’ like there is one.”

Newman looked thoughtful. “Might work,” he said. “Now I know why we’re on such a long cable, though. I guess we’re the ones setting the charges?”

Gray nodded. “With this box of bombs, if one of ’em slips after we set it, the flashies won’t even find enough to make it worth their while.”

Pete Alden stood on Nakja-Mur’s balcony with the High Chief of Baalkpan, Letts, Shinya, Bradford, and Sandra Tucker. The kid was off with O’Casey. The balcony made an ideal observation post from which they could see the vast panorama of the city’s bristling defenses in the late-afternoon sun. The regiments had been moved into their positions, and Big Sal was now moored by the shipyard dock. She had a spring in her cable so she could fire her augmented battery into the flank of any force trying to land there, or anywhere along the waterfront. Her sails were stowed, and like all the defenses, she held plenty of water barrels ready to defend against firebombs. Because it was such an obvious place for them to direct the battle, they’d already made plans to abandon the Great Hall if Amagi came into the bay. Even with high-rise dwellings all around, the Great Hall and its Sacred Tree stood out quite prominently. It would be a prime target for the battle cruiser’s initial salvos. Nakja-Mur was horrified that the Sacred Tree might be damaged, but there was nothing they could do to prevent it. Secondary command posts had been established in strategic locations.

Karen Theimer had worked wonders setting up a central hospital and ambulance corps, and the surgeons and nurses who’d learned their trade with the Allied Expeditionary Force were now fully integrated into the system. Sandra was in overall command of the medical effort, from the central hospital. Karen was her exec, and the other nurses would supervise the two main field hospitals in north and south Baalkpan. Smaller aid stations were established near every defensive position, supervised by talented veterans such as Selass. Sandra hated that she wouldn’t be with Walker during the coming fight, but there was no question where she’d be most needed. Jamie Miller could care for any casualties the ship might have. Other than her personal feelings, she had no excuse to be aboard.

Without Mahan ’s generators to run the new transmitter, it had been stowed in a deep, safe bunker. Walker would remain in constant contact through light and flag signals, as well as the crystal receivers Riggs had constructed, which required almost no electricity. The experimental batteries they’d built had plenty of juice for them, so Matt could keep overall strategic command even while fighting his ship. Hopefully. Even if everything went exactly according to plan, however, Walker would be fighting for her life. Her exposure to the enemy was the part of the plan everythingmenell as her conviction that they had been a “couple of dopes” all along. She envied Karen her happiness and her ability to show open, natural affection for the one she loved.

She suddenly realized someone had spoken to her. “What was that?” she asked, shaking her head.

“Do you have any questions or requirements, Lieutenant Tucker?” Letts asked. Gone was the tongue-tied suitor of short months before. Alden would have command of the “land battle” they expected, but Letts was still acting as Captain Reddy’s chief of staff.

“Uh, just the disposition of the child, Becky, and Mr. O’Casey.”

“I thought you might keep the girl at the central hospital-what’s the dope on her, anyway?” Only Bradford and Nakja-Mur knew, and they didn’t answer. “Well, if you’ll do that, I’ll keep O’Casey with me. I’d like to see what he’s made of.”

Sandra nodded. “Other than that, then, everything’s under control,” she said.

“Good. Mr. Alden?”

Pete shrugged. “We’re about as ready as we can be without reinforcements. Mahan signaled a few minutes ago that they’re nearly finished laying the mines.” He shook his head. “It’s a miracle nobody got blown up doing that. Otherwise, the only thing I have to add is that Lieutenant Riggs is finally satisfied with the visibility of the semaphore tower in Fort Atkinson. His guys on the southwest wall couldn’t see it through those last few trees and they cut them down. Oh, yeah, I sent Lord Rolak and the First Aryaal to reinforce the two hundred Sularans, and Mr. Brister’s artillery-men in the fort. I also think Shinya should command the independent force we talked about.”

Letts nodded agreement. “That’s what the captain said too.”

Pete looked at Shinya. Ever since he returned, not only from the trip to Manila, but from Aryaal with the AEF, Pete’s friend had been very quiet. “I want to deploy the First Marines, the Tenth Baalkpan, and the warriors from Aracca to a forward position defending the south and west approaches against any enemy landing.” He held up his hand. “You’re not to pull a Custer’s Last Stand, or some Jap equivalent! I don’t want you getting tangled up in anything you can’t handle. I mainly want you out there to keep some small force from coming ashore and cutting us off from the fort.”

“The First Marines is under strength,” Shinya said absently. “They had losses at Tarakan and B’mbaado.”

“Yeah, well, maybe we can fill ’em out with rifle-trained guys from the Second. Will you do it?”

Very seriously, Shinya nodded, and Pete peered intently at him. “Say, you aren’t going to cut your guts out or anything if you have to pull back, are you?”

Tamatsu chuckled. In spite of his mood, he was surprised by the question. “Not unless you tell me to. We don’t have the luxury of engaging in such selfish gestures. Besides, that would only increase whatever dishonor I might earn by retreating. It would give aid and comfort to the enemy by contributing to their commissary.” Everyone laughed at that, including Shinya. But then a strange expression="1em"›

“So that’s it, then?” Letts asked skeptically. Alden looked speculative but didn’t reply. “Nothing at all?”

“Well, yes, actually,” said Courtney Bradford. He motioned to himself and Nakja-Mur. “What about us? What shall we do?”

Letts looked at him, surprised. “I just assumed you’d help in the hospital. The way you’re always dissecting stuff-you certainly know how to handle a knife.”

Bradford drew himself up. “My dear sir, as I’ve made no secret, I fancy myself something of a naturalist. It’s a hobby. I’ve a great deal of experience cutting things up, but virtually none putting them back together. Certainly you understand the difference? Of course you do!” He shook his head. “No, just give me a rifle-point me where you need me most, I say. Besides, my recent observations about Grik behavior might prove crucial.”

“Trust me, Mr. Bradford, everybody’s up on your ‘observations,’ ” Pete interrupted. “But no offense; if things get bad enough we need your one rifle, we’ll all be bugging out! I’ll give you a Krag-but I’d consider it a personal favor if you’d use it to help guard the hospital. I’m sure Captain Reddy would appreciate it as well. Will you put yourself at Lieutenant Tucker’s service?”

Bradford pursed his lips. “Well, if you insist on putting it like that…”

“That still leaves me,” said Nakja-Mur. “I’ve grown old and fat, but I was a warrior once. Not much of one, I admit. This is the first time in the memory of the Scrolls that Baalkpan has ever faced war, but I should be defending my people.”

“You are,” Letts assured him. “You’re leading your people, and your courage is an example to them, as well as us. Besides, I need you beside me throughout the battle. I may need your advice or skill at dealing with people. Also, if something happens to me, you’re the only one who can see the whole picture. You’ll have to step in as Captain Reddy’s chief of staff.”

“Very well,” Nakja-Mur said somberly. “I accept. I will watch you closely to know what to do if that unfortunate event comes to pass. I pray it does not.”

“Me too,” Alan Letts fervently agreed.

One by one, Sandra, Bradford, and finally Nakja-Mur left the balcony to continue their preparations. Only Shinya and Alden remained. Pete suspected Tamatsu had been waiting to talk to him alone.

“I will be honored to command the independent force,” he said at last, “but I wanted you to know I have been engaged in a struggle of. .. honor.”

“I know,” Alden said simply. “Adar told me.”

Shinya looked surprised. “And yet you still trust me to do this thing?”

“Sure. Otherwise I wouldn’t have brought it upew moments ago, which side of the struggle would prevail. And yet you had no doubts?”

“Nope.” Alden sighed. “Look, you said whatever was eating you was a matter of honor, right? I know you pretty well by now, I think. The honorable thing to do in this situation is pretty clear-as long as you’re not going to commit Harry-Carry.”

A ghost of a smile crossed Shinya’s face, but he shook his head. “It isn’t that simple. I gave Captain Reddy my parole, and I’ve since engaged in numerous activities for the common good, I think. That wasn’t inconsistent with my concept of honor. This…” He paused. “This is different. If I continue to help you, even to the extent of aiding you against my own people, I will be committing treason in their eyes-and mine. Whatever the reason, and wherever we are, my people and yours are at war, Sergeant Alden.” He took off his hat and scratched his short hair. “However…” He stopped again. “Such an interesting word, don’t you think? ‘However.’ I wonder if it was ever intended to be so vague, yet so profound at the same time,” he mused darkly. “However, for whatever reason, Amagi ’s commander supports the side of purest evil in this war. There can be no honorable explanation for that. On its face, that would seem to make my decision simpler, yet it does not. My people do not have the freedom to choose which policies of our government we will support. As far as Amagi ’s crew are concerned, ordinary seamen and junior officers-men like me- Amagi ’s commanding officer is the direct representative of the emperor. Whatever has befallen them, they will follow him because of that, whether or not they believe he is right.” He searched Alden’s face for understanding. “You see it as misplaced obedience to a corrupt commander, and perhaps it is. But to my people, a commander’s dishonor does not reflect upon those under his command, as long as they follow his orders. Regardless of the commander’s motive, obeying him is the honorable thing for them to do. Do you see now why I have had such difficulty with this decision? Through their captain, the crew of Amagi have become tools of the Grik. Through their honorable service, they are assisting in the commission of evil. That’s the most tragic irony of all.

“So you see, I have not been agonizing over which side is in the right; even from my different perspective, that is obvious. The decision I faced was whether to revert to my status of noncombatant parolee, or openly betray my people, whose honor has already been betrayed by their leader.” He took a deep breath. “I have made that decision. Perhaps my long association with Americans has corrupted me, but I begin to see that blind obedience to a dishonorable command can’t obviate the final, greatest responsibility of honor: to do the right thing. I grieve for my countrymen who have not realized that yet, but I cannot stand idly by.”

“You Japs are so weird,” Alden said quietly. “No offense. What made you make up your mind?”

Shinya considered. “First, it was my realization that, if the roles were reversed, and Walker had somehow come into association with the Grik, Captain Reddy would never have aided them as Amagi has. If he tried, the crew wouldn’t have supported him. The way the crew of Mahan finally decided they could no longer support Captain Kaufman, regardless of rank, is a good example. Then, when King Alcas ordered the surprise arom the Grik-collective guilt couldn’t fail to stain the perpetrators.”

Alden nodded. “Now you know why we were so mad about Pearl Harbor.”

Shinya grimaced. “Perhaps.” He looked out over the wind-ruffled bay. In the far distance was Mahan ’s battered outline. The low-lying barges and toiling men and Lemurians were barely visible. Preparing.

“In any event, as I said, I will be honored to command the independent force, if you still desire it. The duty will be heavy, should I face my countrymen. I cannot deny that. But it is also, clearly, my duty.” He paused. “As it is my duty to ask for the Second instead of the First Marines. You will need the riflemen as a reserve, whereas if I have to fight, it will be the shield wall and spears.”

“All right,” Pete agreed, “and you’re right. Just remember your promise not to gut yourself if anything goes wrong.” They shared another small smile. “You know what you’re supposed to do. If things get too hairy, pull back to Fort Atkinson or the Baalkpan wall.” He shrugged. “They may not put anyone ashore there at all; flank attacks don’t seem their style. We rolled up their flanks time and again on B’mbaado, and it always took them by surprise. That stuff Mallory said about Tjilatjap keeps coming back to me, though, so keep your eyes peeled.”

The sun was near the jungle horizon when the last cluster of barrels went into the dappled sea. As powerful as he was, Silva hurt all over from the backbreaking chore of manhandling the heavy depth charges. He tried to use his grimy T-shirt to wipe the burning sweat from his eyes, but the shirt was so soaked it only made it worse. He glanced at the mouth of the bay. He was surprised Walker hadn’t returned and was struck by the irony of that. On the world they came from, she’d been an insignificant, expendable asset, a relic of an almost ancient war-in terms of technological advancement. She hadn’t been in the same league with her smallest modern counterparts in the Japanese Navy. Most of her sisters weren’t even frontline warships anymore; they’d been converted to seaplane or submarine tenders, minelayers, transports, even damage-control hulks… Now Dennis was surprised she wasn’t already back from facing maybe a hundred enemy ships, with only three sailing frigates to assist her. Nobody else seemed to think it was a big deal either, and he guessed that was really more of a testament to their faith in her captain than the dilapidated ship herself. Still…

Several times during the afternoon, they thought they heard the faint booming of Walker ’s guns, and duller, rippling broadsides of muzzle-loading cannon. Maybe not. The wind was wrong, and the fighting had to be closer than they’d expected if it was so, but regardless, Walker and her little fleet were doing their job: buying the time they needed to finish their little surprise.

He looked at the evidence of their hard day’s work. Across the lightly choppy water, hundreds of clustered barrels bobbed from the shallows on one side of the channel to the other. Some supported a deadly cargo. Beyond the barrels, and even mixed with them where they could, they’d set the posts supporting even more explosives. The minefield looked more impressive than it was, and the first storm that came along would carry it away. Eventually the barrels would leak and the depth charges would sink and detonate without warning. That was one of the main reasons they’d waited so long to prepare the “surprise”; so itnelayerht= would be fresh and ready when the enemy came. He noticed there was a kind of vague pattern to the floating shapes, and it occurred to him the pattern was broken along the side of the channel they were on. It’d be obvious to anybody-especially some Jap lookout in Amagi ’s top-there was a free pass right through the minefield. The other side looked tight, but that was where they’d deliberately set most of the dummies so Walker and the frigates would have a safe path to return. He looked tiredly around. There were still ten depth charges left, but all the barrels on the barges were gone.

“Hey, Bosun,” he said, getting Gray’s attention. “I think we missed a spot.” Before Gray could answer, a growing, clattering drone approached from the southwest. Looking up, they saw the abbreviated outline of the PBY. “Coming back,” Silva muttered. “I wonder how far behind our ship is?”

Another drone was approaching. He looked toward Mahan, loitering a safe distance from the semicircle the barges had formed, and saw a launch drawing near. A few minutes later it bumped alongside, and Lieutenant Sandison hopped onto the barge carrying a large, canvas-wrapped object in his hands.

“Is this the last of them?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” Gray replied.

“All right. I want you to set them all for, oh, say, a hundred and fifty feet; then we’ll tie a cable off to one and put it over the side.”

“One fifty?” Gray asked, surprised.

“You heard me.”

“But the water here’s only about eighty feet deep.”

“I know. Trust me; you’re going to like it.” Securing one end of the rope to the barge, they dropped the depth charge attached to the other over the side.

“Now,” Sandison instructed, “rig all the rest to slide down the rope so they’ll rest together on the bottom. All except one. Chief? I might need your help with this. I’m a torpedo guy, after all.”

“Well, I ain’t no depth-charge man,” Gray growled. “We ought to have Campeti.” He paused, pointing, while Sandison unwrapped his object. “What the hell’s that?”

“It used to be a MK-6, magnetic torpedo exploder. It’s the one we took out of that fish we put in Amagi -the one that went off. We worked it over, and now it’s been redesignated the Silly Six, Sandison Surprise.”

“Silly’s right. What the hell’s it good for?”

“Well, as you can see, there’ve been a few modifications.” He held it up. “First, the contact-exploder mechanism has been entirely removed-leaving just the magnetic trip mechanism…”

“Okay.”

“… which is now just a glorified magnetic switch.” There was a loud splash behind them as another depth charge rolled over the side. Half a dozen men and Lemurians held the rope taut as it sank. “I will next put the switch backfor company…”

“I’ll be damned!” Gray muttered, realization dawning.

“Almost certainly,” Sandison agreed. “You’ll see there’re two long wires trailing out of the canister? I want the canister secured tightly to a rope by its handles, the other end of the rope wrapped around the depth charge. Make the distance about sixty-five feet. When you do that, we’ll wrap these two wires around the cable-loosely, with lots of slack-until we get to the charge.”

“But how are we going to set it off?” Gray asked. “If we try to run those wires in through the hydrostatic fuse, the damn thing’ll leak.”

Sheepishly, Bernie fished a hand grenade from his pocket. Two more wires ran out of the top where the fuse had been, and it was carefully sealed around them. “I got this from Reavis. He had the duty.”

“Why that little…!” Silva began, gasping from exertion.

“Don’t be too hard on him, Dennis. Spanky gave me a note.”

Gray just shook his head. Another heavy splash. “So,” he said, pointing to another object. “What’s that? It looks like a big-ass cork.”

Sandison nodded. “It’s a float for a Lemurian fishing net. Buoyant as hell. I can’t remember what they call it; ask one of your guys.” He gestured around. “Whatever it is, I think it’s ’Cat for ‘big-ass cork.’ It’ll hold our trigger up.”

Gray stared, hands on his hips. “You know? If that crazy gizmo works, it’ll probably be the first time in the history of the war against the Japs one of those magnetic bastards did anything right.”

“Maybe,” Sandison agreed; then he pointed to the open lane in the minefield that led to it. “But if it doesn’t, we’ll have even more reason to curse them-only we probably won’t be able to.”

Gray nodded as another depth charge splashed over the side. “Yeah. Thank God this ain’t the main deal. I’d hate to think everything was riding on it.”

Silva stopped heaving on the next depth charge in line and wiped his brow. “What the hell do you mean, this ain’t the main deal?” he demanded between gasps for air. “We been doin’ all this work for a sideshow?” Shortly after 2100 that night, the new construction frigates, USS Tolson and USS Kas – Ra – Ar, displayed the proper lantern-light recognition signals, and were allowed to pass under the guns of Fort Atkinson. Mahan was waiting for them, having returned the barges to the yard. Now she signaled them to heave to and wait for a launch to bring a pilot to take them safely through the minefield. As the ships passed in the night, Jim Ellis saw they’d taken quite a pounding, and though their masts still stood they didn’t look new anymore. Of Walker and Donaghey there was no sign for almost another hour. Finally a flare went up, declaring an emergency, and Walker appeared, towing the wallowing, dismasted hulk of Lieutenant Garrett’s ship. The launch took Gray across so he could guide the two ships inside the bay. With her searchlights sweeping the surface of the water, the old destroyer picked her way into the clear, where andl thinking. He sighed.

Wishful thinking wouldn’t solve their ammunition problems, either. Walker had sortied with another twenty of the “new” shells, reloaded with a solid copper projectile and black powder. As Ellis reported, the projectile worked okay, after a fashion. They went off, and even flew reasonably straight, but with a much lower velocity than the targeting computer was accustomed to, so local control was the only way to go. It also took every one they had to sink six ships. It went without saying that the copper projectiles would be worse than useless against Amagi. Sandison hadn’t been pleased to learn how the rounds performed when Ellis first told him. He, Garrett, and Campeti had plenty of ideas how to improve them, but they just didn’t have the time. They’d have to fight with what they had. He shook his head.

Looking out to starboard, Matt made out Mahan ’s outline in the dark as the other ship closely paced them. It occurred to him that this was only the second time they’d steamed together since being reunited at Aryaal. That other time was only a brief foray when they’d played tug-of-war for Mahan ’s propeller. Now, even if they were making only ten knots, Matt felt a sudden exhilaration. The sound of the blowers so close together, and the swish of the sea as they parted it between them, left him with a sense of companionship he’d missed. Jim Ellis was over there, on that other bridge, and Matt wondered what he was thinking. Maybe the same thing. He suddenly wished it were daylight so the people they defended could see the two destroyers steaming side by side in the bay. The sight might bolster their morale-at least until they saw what they were up against.

Without warning, Matt had a chilling premonition that this was the last time Walker and Mahan would ever be in formation again. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t shake the thought. It was as though the swishing sea were a ghostly voice warning the elderly sisters to say their final farewell, because one, at least, was doomed. Which one? he wondered with a heavy heart. Or would both face destruction when Amagi steamed into the bay? The moment ended when they neared the dock, and both ships reduced speed. Mahan went first to the fueling pier, where her bunkers were quickly filled. Then she moved briefly to the dock, where over half her crew went ashore, leaving fifteen human and twenty Lemurian volunteers aboard-just enough to operate her during the short part she would play. Half her remaining ammunition was off-loaded as well. It had been agreed that Walker would need it more than she.

In less than an hour, Mahan cast off once more, just as Walker was beginning to fuel. As she crept away from the lights on the dock, the jury-rigged Morse lamp on her port bridge wing quickly flashed: “Good hunting. Farewell.” Ellis emphasized his message with a long, harsh toot on Mahan ’s steam whistle.

“Send, ‘Good hunting, God bless,’” ordered Matt. While Walker ’s Morse lamp clacked, he watched Mahan fade into darkness, until she was visible no more.

Near the end of the midwatch, Dennis Silva was supervising the transport of vital tools and machinery from the torpedo workshop to their-hopefully-temporary storage, in hardened bunkers ashore. Everything that could be spared-the lathe, millpers, logs, charts, manuals, and other documents ashore a short time earlier. Even the conduits and bundles of long-bypassed wiring were being stripped from the ship to save the copper wire. Earl Lanier, Ray Mertz, and Pepper gravely removed the restored Coke machine themselves. All told, it was a difficult task, and even though Dennis appreciated the necessity and approved the captain’s foresight in ordering it, the implications were ominous and disheartening.

He’d never been so tired. It had been a grueling day, and even his apparently inexhaustible and irrepressible energy had limits, it seemed. Laney would soon replace him with the morning watch, however, and hopefully he’d get a few hours’ sleep. The captain had already told them the morning general quarters alarm wouldn’t sound. He stopped on the pier, shuffling back from the bunker, and looked at the ship for a moment. She seemed strangely fuzzy in the humid, hazy air, and ephemeral sparks flew like fireflies from last-minute repairs. Her weirdly diffused searchlights beamed eerily downward, illuminating her decks and casting long, twisted shadows. They made her glow like some unearthly, mournful specter, and completing the surrealistic scene, a lively tune squeaked vaguely from Marvaney’s phonograph. Silva felt a sudden chill, and sensed he was moving toward his grave. He shuddered.

“She does look rather ‘creepy,’ as you would say,” came a girlish voice from the gloom, and the mighty Dennis Silva nearly pissed himself.

“What’re you doin’ here, goddamn it?” he demanded more harshly than he meant to.

“I came to see you.”

“Me?” He stopped, peering down at Rebecca’s tiny form. “What for? Why ain’t you with O’Casey or Lieutenant Tucker?”

“I ‘gave them the slip,’ and each thinks I am with the other. Besides, you are my other protector, and I’m perfectly safe.”

“Sure, you’re safe as can be around here, even without a watchdog. Least for now. ’Cats are swell folks. But what’d you wanna see me for?”

Rebecca sighed. “Dennis Silva, you are the most vile, crude, wildly depraved creature… I never suspected such as you might even exist. The spectacle you made of yourself when we arrived! I would scold you for your shamelessness if I suspected you understood the concept of shame, but somehow”-she took a breath and shook her head-“I have come to care for you… to a small degree. I never had a brother, and have always been thankful for it-properly so, it seems-for I find myself thinking of you more and more in that unsettling role. My sense of propriety demands I despise you-and I do!-yet… I also find, like a brother, I suppose, I can’t help but love you just a bit as well.” She grimaced, as if at the foul taste of the words.

Silva cracked. Perhaps it was exhaustion or indigestion, or perhaps some soot from Walker ’s stacks got in his eyes, but suddenly his face was wet with tears, and he’d gathered the girl in a tight embrace. “I’m a rowdy old scamp,” he agreed huskily into her hair. “Can’t help it. But I’d be proud to take you on as my little sister, if you make me. Maybe you can teach me a little about that word, ‘shame,’ you mentioned. Right now, though, you got to r›

“You are unloading things from her in case she sinks!” Rebecca cried, suddenly tearful as well.

“Naw, she can’t sink. We’re just gettin’ a buncha loose junk out of the way. You’d be amazed how cluttered a place can get with nothin’ but sloppy guys livin’ there.”

“You’re lying. You need me, you and poor Lawrence as well. I can’t help but think something dreadful will happen to you both without me to watch over you-and just think how terrified he will be: his first battle, and no one to comfort him… I don’t think anyone really likes him, you know.”

“I like him, even if he is a lizard,” Dennis assured her. “I already said I was sorry for shootin’ him.”

“It’s not the same. I must spend the battle aboard your ship… .” She paused, desperate. “You need me! You will need me before the battle is done; I know it!”

“Now, now, little girls underfoot is the last thing we need in a fight. Lieutenant Tucker’s gonna need you, though, and that’s a fact.” He set her down, wiping his eyes. “An’ one thing I need you to do, if it comes to it, is tell my gals I love ’em all. Would you do that? It’s Pam and Risa. I know you don’t approve, but I do love ’em both.” He smiled. “And you too, doll… I mean… sis.”

Rebecca burst into tears again, and clung to him like a rock in a confused, breaking sea.

“Now run on. I got stuff to do, or the Griks won’t have to get me; the captain will.”

“Very well.” She sniffed, releasing him. “Please tell Lawrence-”

“I will. So long now.”

She watched him turn and walk tiredly-dejectedly, it seemed-to join a group of Lemurians who’d passed them while they spoke, and together they crossed the gangway onto the ship. Still sniffling, Rebecca stood in the shadows for quite a while, looking back and forth. Eventually, convinced there’d be no more arrivals, she strode purposefully in the direction she knew she was supposed to go.