greetings and congratulations. Still, they remained glued together, side by side, the mere presence of the other after so long and so much renewing their souls. They shared a strange new tension, however, an almost-sickening, floating sense that regardless of their attachment, something… fundamental was about to change. Both knew they had much to discuss, officially and otherwise. From an official standpoint, Matt’s stormy expression when he saw the gathering of dark-skinned human females-in USN T-shirts, dungarees, and Dixie cups-arrayed behind a woman Sandra introduced simply as “Carpenter’s Mate, Steward Diania,” promised a lively debate, and Sandra had blithely ignored it. If ’Cat “girls” could serve in the Navy, so could the human variety as far as she was concerned. She knew she’d win that one, eventually. She had no idea how their “personal” discussion would go.
Happy greetings occurred all around, and ’Cats scampered excitedly on and off the old destroyer, dispensing with ceremony. But each one saluted her flag. Matt caught a familiar loud voice and saw Juan Marcos leaning on a crutch, his left pant leg pinned up. He was berating Tabasco and Earl Lanier in Tagalog, a language nobody except maybe the few Philippine Scouts who’d survived their hellish ordeal in Mizuki Maru understood. He was glad for Juan that there were other Filipinos now, but he was also very worried about that Japanese destroyer, still apparently on the loose. Mizuki Maru had finally steamed after her, but there’d been no word. And, of course, he’d heard about his cousin Orrin, still on New Ireland. He wasn’t flying again yet, but he was in charge of rooting out the last of the Grik birds. Fortunately, there’d never been many on the island. Their surprise appearance in the dark had been costly, but Orrin had developed tactics to lure them from their hiding places and destroy them. Matt smiled sadly. Thank God the kid was alive, but it had apparently been a bad war for the Reddy clan back home. Juan’s jabbering continued unabated. Poor Tabasco kind of slunk back, but suddenly, to Matt’s amazement, Earl Lanier stepped forward and picked Juan up off the deck and held him in a greasy, furry-armed, stinky embrace.
“I’m glad to see you too, you goddamn, crazy little Flip!” he rumbled.
Eventually, the horde dwindled. The Governor-Emperor was tiring, and he invited all the senior officers to join him at Government House and dine early. There they could debrief at greater leisure and in more comfort. Unexpectedly, many crew and Marines from Walker and other “Lemurian-American” ships flocked along. The officers’ gathering would be on the wide veranda of the residence, but no one had prohibited the growing party on the grounds surrounding it. Some Imperial officers and officials seemed shocked and dismayed by the familiar way the human and ’Cat Americans behaved around their officers, and several suggested they dine inside, away from the revelers. Princess Rebecca gave them a steely glare, and even the Governor-Emperor dismissed the notion as he and the other Allied leaders assembled around a long, narrow table on the broad porch.
It’s the Lemurian way, Matt recalled with a small smile, remembering the times he’d made landfall among the People. He took his indicated seat to Gerald’s right at the head of the table, with Sandra at his side, and noticed that Ruth McDonald sat with her husband. He’d never seen that before. He wondered if their influences were beginning to take root and whether they’d ultimately be appreciated or resented. Right now, the expanded Alliance was on solid ground.
There was no ceremony, no speech, no “official” greeting, and Matt was thankful. He was surprised, but suspected Sean O’Casey (Bates) had probably advised against it, knowing him and his people the best. The Governor-Emperor began the “proceedings” simply, by leaning forward and saying something to Courtney Bradford. The Australian cupped his hand behind his ear, and the Bosun abruptly stood, facing the crowd.
“Pipe down, you bunch’a’ goons!” he bellowed. “The brass is tryin’ to decide whether to give you medals or throw you all in the brig!”
Sean Bates rose as well. “There’ll be fine, great barrels o’ beer available soon on the north porch. Do enjoy it there, fer the time bein’, ta the extent allowed by yer officers! This is a celebration, an’ there’ll be music an’ dancin’ at dusk, but we must have a wee chat before then.” Amid cheers, the vast majority of the partyers made their way to the other es) f Government House, and Bates nodded at Gray with a grin. “Now I’m His Majesty’s Factor, er ‘chief o’ staff,’ I reckon, I’ve learned ta reward wi’ beer, rather than berate wi’ roars!”
“That might work ashore…” Gray muttered as the two sat down, eliciting laughter.
“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty,” Courtney said. “What was your question?”
“What did you think of the fauna in the colonies?” Gerald repeated more loudly.
“I had little opportunity to explore, I’m afraid, with all the bothersome battles. I did see a few fascinating specimens after the sea fight ended and we joined the shore action.” He paused, and his wild brows fairly bounced with excitement. “One beast we saw was simply titanic, but the locals paid it little heed!” He sipped tea, cooled by ice brought from Walker. “Of course, by then, it was more a general chase. Commodore Jenks and Mr. Gray”-he nodded at the Bosun-“had already won the fight.”
“Those locals are damn good shots, and even Silva’d appreciate their humongous rifles!” Gray said with actual admiration. “We never saw any o’ their ‘Grik birds’-they must’ve all been after you, Skipper-an’ Chack’s probably right about ’em not havin’ enough sense to use in a pitched land fight. Anyway, once the Doms found out their fleet was beat, they retreated south faster than our artillery could keep up. They left most of theirs, but we needed our guns because they still had us outnumbered pretty bad.” He took a gulp of tea himself. “We didn’t take many prisoners,” he added. “Mostly wounded they left behind. I’m told if they try to walk all the way back to the Dominion, most won’t make it, though.”
“True enough,” Gerald agreed soberly. “I once visited the borderlands, back when Harvey Jenks and I were both ‘squeakers’ aboard the old Zeus,” he reminisced. “The country they must cross is quite dreadful, full of terrifying beasts.” He looked at Captain Reddy and smiled crookedly. “But since my attempt at preliminary pleasantries has been so successfully redirected, we may as well get down to it. Tell me, what do you think about the situation concerning Governor Dodd and Lord Admiral McClain?”
Matt considered. “The admiral’s no traitor; he simply disagreed with our strategy. He made no secret of his belief the Doms would strike at the Enchanted Isles. The problem is, he understood our strategy and knew what was expected of him. His tardiness cost us more casualties than we would’ve taken with the force we expected, and nearly cost us the battle. All here had already agreed what the consequences of that would have been. Jenks was right to relieve him in your name.”
Gerald nodded. “Indeed. Of course. A sad necessity.”
“On the other hand, it looks like Governor Dodd did turn. He was ‘missing’ throughout the crisis, gone ‘camping’ or ‘hunting,’ I’m told. A search was unsuccessful and revealed no evidence his party fell prey to predators. The militia there-damn fine scouts-don’t think he went anywhere near where he said he’d be, but went south toward the Dom landings instead. The consensus is he retreated with the beaten enemy.”
“I thought I knew Dodd,” Gerald lamented, shaking his head. He looked at Chack and Blair. “It seems sure we still have high-placed traitors here as well, who passed nearly our entire plan to the enemy. They must be discovered!” His gaze returned to Matt. “And though Dodd was always a ‘Company man,’ I never believed him capable of treason. Clearly, we still have our hands full on the home front.”
“That’s what it looks like.”
“Aye,” Bates agreed. “Jenks’ll have his hands full in the east as well, sortin’ out the colonies an’ tryin’ ta take the fight ta the Doms. They’ll go fer the Enchanted Isles now for sure.”
“Most likely,” Matt agreed. “At least he should have the ships to stop them now, with what we left him. Frankly, the Dom ‘ships of the line’ are almost useless. Good thing for us they started this war with last generation’s Navy! I guess that’s all they thought they’d need. The transports are fairly new, built for this war, but their fighting ships are twenty or thirty years old. They’re still dangerous as hell if you get close to one, but with enough steamers, you shouldn’t have to. Sooner or later they’re going to put engines in them and that’ll change, but for now? We captured a couple, once they were helpless. Dom sailors and regulars aren’t all crazy, at least. I recommended Jenks put some of their heavy guns on the steam transports we took. He’s ‘CINCEAST’ now by the way, if you’ve no objection, Your Majesty.”
“None whatsoever. He’s earned it. He’ll need troops, however.”
Matt looked down the table at Tamatsu Shinya and Lelaa-Tal-Cleraan. “Troops and air cover. What do you think, General Shinya? Admiral Lelaa?” He’d received the reports of their activities several days out. Lelaa blinked rapidly and would have blushed if she could, Matt was sure.
“ Maaka-Kakja and her battle group will go where they’re needed, Cap-i-taan Reddy,” Lelaa said.
“Shinya?”
“May I have Chack?” Shinya asked.
“Well, no, you can’t,” Matt said, his brows furrowing. “He’s going home with me and Walker.” He glanced at Sandra, then looked at Gerald. “My ship needs a refit like she can’t get out here-yet. Besides, things are heating up
