abducted and ultimately marooned along with Sandra, Silva, Princess Rebecca, Lawrence, Imperial Midshipman Stuart Brassey, Lelaa-Tal-Cleraan, Sister Audry… and others not as lucky. He’d packed considerable adventure into his barely sixteen years, and the gangly teen had generally comported himself well by all accounts.
“Cook’s a good kid,” Silva said thoughtfully. “And he’s probably been livin’ in a igloo made outta Courtney’s books since he got back to Baalkpan. He’s a good choice.” He chuckled. “I figger his biggest problem’ll be givin’ me orders!”
“You may have to teach him how,” Matt agreed, “and I feel a little guilty inflicting you on him, but he’ll need you. Tell him to feel free to accept a few more volunteers, if he wants.” Matt knew Abel’s friend, Midshipman Brassey, would be begging Ambassador Forester to let him go as soon as the meeting adjourned.
“Sounds like a hoot, and me and Larry’ll do our best for the kid…” Silva’s twisted grin spread. “I mean, for Mister Cook.” He poked Lawrence with his elbow. “Won’t we?”
“So, who else is leavin’ the ship?” Spanky grumbled. “Not too many more, I hope. We’ve got a lot of work to do when we make Respite, just so we can get the rest of the way home and get to work!” Walker ’s machinery needed considerable attention after her long voyage and hard fighting; more than they’d been able to give her in the Imperial shipyards. Even more critical than that, however, she needed a dry dock, and the closest one was in Maa- ni-la. She had some damage below her waterline, but what had come to worry Spanky most were the rivets they’d rebuilt her with in Baalkpan. He considered that his fault. They’d formed her new plating from good steel salvaged from Amagi, but the rivets were local “iron.” It wasn’t really iron but some of the first steel they’d attempted, and Spanky had thought it would suffice and made the call. Unfortunately, the rivets had proven remarkably brittle. They resisted shearing, so they weren’t apt to fail with the normal working of the ship, but even some of the light roundshot strikes they’d taken had opened seams and launched shattered rivets like bullets. They’d repaired Walker ’s worst topside damage with good-quality “Impie” rivets at Scapa Flow, but Spanky was increasingly worried they’d pop a bottom seam if they ran into another big storm, or Strakka, like the one they encountered on the voyage out. The ship survived that blow with no hull damage, but real or not, Spanky felt the growing stress on the bottom rivets as if the same ones had been used to hold his guts together.
In response to Spanky’s question, Matt glanced at the Bosun, indecisive. Carl Bashear was Walker ’s Chief Bosun’s Mate now, and Chief Gray really was needed in Baalkpan. The Alliance had sprouted a lot of “chiefs,” but few had any real leadership experience, especially in combat. Matt envisioned at least a temporary school for Naval NCOs, to deepen that pool of experience and knowledge, and Chief Gray, the Super Bosun, was the natural choice to supervise it. Chief Gunner’s Mate Paul Stites could handle the Captain’s Guard, and Bashear was fully capable of handling all the deck divisions. Matt really ought to send Gray home, but he was reluctant for several reasons. For one thing, he was Matt’s friend and primary-discreet-confidant when it came to matters concerning the crew. Also, like Silva in one respect, Gray thrived under adversity. Despite occasionally proclaiming that he wouldn’t mind settling down for a while, he’d hinted that if Matt shuffled him off to be a “schoolmarm,” or put him out to pasture, he shouldn’t expect him to excel behind a desk or in the classroom. Matt thought the Bosun could and would do the job, but he also knew his heart wouldn’t be in it. Walker was his home. Whether or not he remained essential to the old destroyer’s day-to-day operation, supervising and monitoring her well-being was critical to Gray. He needed her just as badly as she’d needed him in the past, and Matt couldn’t shake the feeling-the premonition, almost-that his ship might desperately need her Super Bosun again.
“No. That’s all, Mr. MacFarlane. Except the ambassador and his party-if they don’t mind flying.” Matt regarded Ambassador Forester. “Saan-Kakja, High Chief of All the Fil-pin Lands, and Chairman Adar are both anxious to meet you. In Saan-Kakja’s case, she wants to go back to Baalkpan, as she promised her troops she would-but now she’s got troops fighting Doms in the other direction, helping defend the Empire.” He paused. “Honestly, Ambassador Forester, Saan-Kakja doesn’t like the Empire very much, and you really need to make a good impression on her.”
“You think I should ride a… flying machine?” Forester asked, eyes widening. His aide, Lieutenant Bachman, began to form a protest, but Forester gently silenced him.
“Yes, Your Excellency. I do.”
“Well. Indeed…” Forester considered. “Tell me, Captain Reddy: has an Imperial citizen ever ridden one of your flying machines?”
“Not to my knowledge, Your Excellency. I believe you’d be the first.”
“Splendid. In that case, I simply must, I suppose.”
With the meeting adjourned, the wardroom quickly emptied. It was hot in the compartment, even with the portholes open, and the wind direction prevented much air from coming in. The smell of sweat was so all pervasive, no one noticed it anymore. The musty-smelling ’Cats shed all the time, however, and Spanky rocketed up the companionway at the end of the short passage in the middle of a sneezing fit. Even Juan left, herding ahead of him a pair of mess attendants laden with trays of cups. All that remained were Matt and Sandra, smiling comfortably at one another across the wardroom table.
“We’re alone,” Sandra murmured.
“Scandalous,” Matt replied with a grin. “I left standing orders that we’re never to be left unsupervised, for the slightest instant.”
“I guess the whole gang’s on report now,” Sandra said, standing, and walking slowly around the table toward him.
“Trust me,” Matt warned, mock serious, “they’ll be severely punished.”
Sandra slid onto the chair beside him and gave him an only mildly inflammatory kiss as his arms went around her.
“We better get back to work,” he mumbled. “This is exactly why I said we should split up from now on. Can’t have us carrying on like a couple of teenagers all the time.”
Sandra giggled. “Hey, buster, this is my office!” The wardroom served as a surgery in battle.
“Then quick: throw me out, woman! Before the crew gets the wrong idea!”
Sandra giggled again, and Matt smiled. He knew she thought she sounded ridiculous when she did that, but he loved the sound. Finally, she sighed.
“Gets wise, you mean. Of course, in spite of us trying to fool them, they knew about us before we did.” She snuggled against him. “I feel like a teenager,” she admitted. “I guess you’re right, though,” she added wistfully. “Once we’re married, we’ll see even less of each other than we do now. Even if your silly regulations didn’t prevent mates from serving aboard the same ship, I don’t think that shoebox you call a stateroom would be big enough for both of us.” She kissed him again. “And after we are married, nothing will ever keep us apart again.”
“When we’re not apart,” Matt added glumly. She knew what he meant.
“I think you’ll have plenty to look forward to,” she whispered wickedly. “The sailor home from the sea will always be a happy man.”
He chuckled, but then looked at her. “I’m happy now. Only…”
“Only what?”
“Well… are you absolutely sure you want to go through with it? I mean, it’ll be tough sometimes. Maybe… Maybe we should wait until the war’s over, you know.”
Sandra’s face grew stormy. “Now, you listen to me, Matthew Reddy! You may be king of the sea, but as soon as you asked me to marry you, and even said when, that put me in charge of the whole operation, see?” She smiled, but her eyes were moist. “If you wanted it different, a chance to weasel out later, you shouldn’t have asked me right in front of the Governor-Emperor, half our allies, and all the crew!”
“I don’t want to weasel out!” he protested.
“You’d better not. Not only would it make me sore-it might wreck the Alliance! The Governor-Emperor wanted to marry us in New Britain, in the cathedral, with more bells and whistles than any wedding I ever heard of! Even Adar was a little put out that we wouldn’t wait until we got back to Baalkpan. He wanted to throw a big party, even though ’Cats aren’t big on formal weddings. But you promised me a honeymoon! On Respite! The governor there, Radcliff, is already gearing up for a pretty big deal, probably almost as big a wedding as His Majesty would have managed. You are not going to leave me at the altar like a dope…” Tears threatened to spill, but she shook her head and dashed a sleeve across her eyes. “Not after all this time, after all we’ve been through!” Her voice took on a hint of bitterness.
“This war is never going to end, Matthew. Don’t you see? Someday, we’ll beat the Grik and the Doms and whatever else comes along. I don’t doubt that anymore… But I know you. You’re not just fighting them. You’ll fight
