Right then, the look on her face, the tone of her voice-he might have kissed her in spite of everything, to hell with the consequences. If Silva hadn’t intervened. More precisely, if the growing calamity of the spectacle that Silva was generating hadn’t done so.
A rampaging super lizard would have seemed sedate compared to his arrival. He was literally wearing half of Dowden’s “flying” shore patrol. Even as they watched, one of Dowden’s men-Fred Reynolds-went “flying” dangerously close to the edge of the pier. On second glance, he wouldn’t have fallen, since he was chained to Silva’s wrist.
“Lemme go!” he roared. “Where’d you take my girl? I’m in the mood for luuuve!”
“Oh, my God.”
Not to be outdone by his predecessors, Dennis began singing as the men wrestled him closer to the captain: “I joined the Nay-vee to see the world! And what did I see? I saw the sea! I’m not… I won’t?. .. I don’t get seasick, but I’m awful sick of seeeaa!” He vomited on Reynolds, who was lying at his feet. “Archg! Sorry, boy…” He looked wildly around. “Where’s my girl? My lady love! I ain’t through dancin’ yet!” He proceeded into an astonishingly graceful waltz-for a drunk with two men hanging on him and another chained to his arm. He stopped suddenly, as though surprised at himself, and hooted: “I’m a Grammaw!” Then he saw the captain. He came to swaying, exaggerated attention and saluted, dragging poor Reynolds to his feet. “Eav-nin’, Skipper! Lootenit Tucker!”
“Mr. Silva.” Matt nodded. “You seem… true to form.”
“Aye, aye, sir! Cheap seep! Hell, it’s free!” He belched loudly.
“Are you ready to return to the ship? Peacefully?”
Silva blinked, looking around. “Hell, no! These bastards has… adducted… obstructed… swiped me from my wife!”
“What? What? Mr. Dowden, what’s the meaning of this?” Before Larry could even begin to explain, there came a shriek from the darkness.
“Si-vaa!” Two brindled shapes ran toward them, one ahead of the other. The first, obviously female, leaped on the gunner’s mate and, combined with his other passengers, nearly knocked him down at last. Matt thought she was attacking him until she wrapped her arms around his neck and started licking his face.
“There’s my darlin’ angel!” he cooed.
The other brindled shape caught up and slammed to attention, but even in the dark, it was clear that Chack- Sab-At was quivering with rage.
“What the hell’s going on here!” Matt bellowed. “Silva, what have you done?”
“Cap-i-taan!” said Chack, “that’s my sister, Risa. She is unwell. That giant… creature has intoxicated her and…”
“He mate? He marry me!” Risa squealed happily. “He Sab-At clan now!”
“Never!” seethed Chack. Sandra’s hand now covered her mouth in earnest, but Matt couldn’t tell if she was hiding shock or laughter.
“My God, Silva, I swear! If you’ve done anything to damage our relationship with these people, or if you forced… God! Are you insane? I’ll hang you!”
“Skipper, I’ll swear on a Bible or Marvaney’s record stack-whatever you say-”
“You lie!” shouted Chack.
“He no lie!” Risa purred. “Nobody mad but silly Chack. People no mad. People no… embarrassed? By mate! Si-vaa love Risa!”
The shore party, those that could, eased away. Chack’s ears were back and his tail swished like a cobra. He looked about to strike. Matt was preparing another volcanic response when Sandra tugged his sleeve and whispered in his ear. He looked sharply at her and was incredulous when he saw her nod.
“We’ll get to the bottom of this,” he promised darkly. “Mr. Chack, please escort your sister to her Home. At the very least, she seems. .. indisposed.”
“But… Aye, aye, Cap-i-taan.”
“What about my weddin’ night?” Silva moaned, and Matt turned to him.
“My orders were that all personnel be back aboard by 0100. Since you had no special permission, you may not stay ashore to… consummate your ‘marriage,’ nor may you do so on my ship! USS Walker is not a honeymoon barge!” He paused. There was one way to find out if Sandra was right. “Tomorrow I’ll speak to Keje and Nakja-Mur and discover what further process, if any, is required to finalize your and Risa’s… nuptials. Perhaps a joint ceremony?”
He was rewarded by a marked widening of Silva’s surprisingly sober eyes. Getting even with Chack was one thing, but he wouldn’t enjoy the consequences of including his captain in the joke.
“Nighty night, sugar-lips!” Silva said, and gave Risa a kiss, which she returned with evident relish.
God, I hope it is a joke! Matt thought with a shudder.
After Chack stiffly led his sister away and a suddenly docile Silva was carried to the ship, Matt removed his hat and rubbed his eyes. “Jesus!”
Sandra laughed. “Is this the way it always was with these guys, back in the Philippines?”
“No! Well, yeah, but… yeah.” He smiled.
“I told Chack to watch his back.” Sandra chuckled. “I wonder when he’ll figure it out?”
“I wonder if it’s over!”
“You don’t think he really…?” Sandra gasped.
“If we’re not surrounded by angry ’cats with torches in the morning, I’m going to pretend it never happened. But I guarantee Silva won’t have the last laugh!” For a moment, the pier was empty again, but the electric tension between them was damped. Just as well.
Sandra cleared her throat. “Earlier, you said you had an idea. What was it?”
“What? Oh. Well, let me see if I can put my thoughts back together!”
CHAPTER 7
What, then, would you have us do? How do we defeat them if the Ancient Ones could not?” The speaker was the High Chief of one of the great Homes. Seven of the huge vessels now floated in Baalkpan Bay, and all their chiefs, as well as a large number of senior “officers,” were present in Nakja-Mur’s Great Hall for this long-awaited council. There were even representatives from several smaller “land colonies.” Gatherings on such a scale were rare, usually happening no more than once or twice a decade, and there was no official mechanism for summoning one. As far as Matt could tell, it might be as simple as shouted words from passing fishermen: “Big meeting at Baalkpan. Come if you want.” Without better communications, that was probably exactly how it happened.
Great Gatherings were usually occasions for festivities, games, trade, and socialization. They were also times for crowded, prosperous Homes to branch off. To build new Homes and form new clans. It was a time that the People on their solitary wandering Homes looked forward to with pleasure and anticipation, wondering where and when the next would be held. But this one was different. All were aware of the seriousness of the growing threat, and those present, at least, seemed willing and even eager to discuss their next move. Few agreed what that move should be, however.
The Lemurian who’d spoken was Anai-Sa, High Chief of Fristar, one of the Homes that had been in Baalkpan Bay since before Walker arrived. He seemed young for his rank, with a jet-black pelt and a spray of white whiskers surrounding his face. His green eyes were intent. Besides his heavily embroidered kilt, he wore only a multitude of shimmering golden hoops around his neck and upper arms. His people were “far rangers” who rarely entered these waters. Their “territory” was most often the South China Sea, but Grik pressure had pushed them south. He was also the most outspoken of the “why don’t we just sail off where there are no Grik” crowd.
Keje spoke in reply. “I would have you hear the words of Cap-i-taan Reddy of the Amer-i-caans, and High Chief of Waa-kur. He is High Chief of an independent clan and has as much right to speak as anyone here. More, to my thinking, since he saved my Home from the Grik. The Amer-i-caans have helped us prepare for this time with no concern for personal gain.” Keje stood before the silent group, looking out among them. He said nothing about Walker’s brief sortie two weeks before that destroyed two more Grik ships. All were aware of it, even if they hadn’t been there yet, and boasting sometimes detracts from self-evident truth. Besides, the last thing Matt wanted was
