Crusade

«In view of the ‘extenuating circumstances,’ the first charge against Bosun’s Mate Chack-Sab-At is dismissed,» Matt declared. «Mr. Garrett? Have you anything to say on Gunner’s Mate Silva’s behalf?»

Garrett looked at the big, grinning man and took an exasperated breath. «Guilty, sir. His only defense is that some other fellas did it too.»

«Unacceptable. Mr. Dowden?»

«Uh, the next charge is that both the accused became involved in, well, a brawl, sir, and not only were they at the center of the brawl but they started it by striking one another.»

Matt sighed. «I won’t even ask who started it. I know I won’t get a straight answer. Besides, I have a pretty good idea. If I’m not very much mistaken, I expect Chack threw the first punch»

«He pulled my tail!» Chack interrupted, seething indignantly.

«Did not! I was just holdin’ it. You did all the pullin’!»

«Silence!» Matt bellowed. «Trust me, you both would really rather keep your mouths shut and handle this my way! Silva, your unnatural and hopefully pretend ‘relationship’ with Chack’s sister, Risa, was all very shocking and amusing. at first. It’s now not only an embarrassment to this ship but a constant goad to Chack’s self-control. I know Risa’s as much to blame as you are. You’re two peas in a pod, personality wise, if not.» He shuddered. «In any event, you’ll cease tormenting Chack with the lurid details of your fictitious ‘marriage’ to his sister and you’ll definitely refrain from any more. overt physical demonstrations when you are together. Is that understood?»

«But, Skipper.»

«IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?»

«Aye, aye, sir!»

«Very well. It’s pointless to dock your pay, but you’re both losing a stripe and you’re both restricted to the ship for ten days — after we make port. Silva, you’re losing another stripe for AWOL.»

«But»

«Shut up.» Matt looked at Dowden, who cleared his throat.

«Attention to orders!» he said. Captain Reddy unfolded a piece of paper before him.

«For extreme heroism and gallantry in the face of the enemy, etc., etc.» — he looked up» I’m sorry to you other guys, but I’m still too damn mad to get flowery. Anyway, with my deepest gratitude, I’m t and sighed heavily. «Boatswain’s Mate Chack-Sab-At and Gunner’s Mate Dennis Silva. Most of you deserve it. Chack, you lose one, you gain one, so you’re back where you started — except for the restriction. Silva.» Matt shook his head. «You’re never going to get that first-class stripe if you don’t settle down!» Dennis shrugged philosophically and Matt looked at Campeti, who concluded the proceedings. As they walked back to the pilothouse, Matt and Dowden were rejoined by Sandra and Bradford. Both wore broad smiles. «Cut it out,» he said, almost smiling himself as he mounted the steps. At the top waited Lieutenant Tamatsu Shinya of the Japanese Imperial Navy.

«Mr. Shinya,» Matt greeted him.

«Captain.» Shinya was the sole survivor of a destroyer that took a torpedo meant for Amagi. Somehow, her survivors in the water had been swept through the Squall with the American ships, but before Walker could return to rescue them, they’d been eaten by what was evidently a plesiosaur of some sort, not to mention a ravening swarm of tuna-sized fish that acted like piranhas. They called the fish «flashies» and they were everywhere, at least in the relatively shallow equatorial seas within the Malay Barrier. Shinya alone was saved because he’d been unconscious atop an overturned lifeboat. It had been the first indication to the destroyermen that they were no longer in the world they knew — the first other than the bizarre effects of the Squall itself, of course.

Since then, Shinya, who had studied in the United States, had given his parole and had become a valued member of the crew. He was an excellent swordsman, if not in the traditional Japanese style, and he was a big help to Sergeant Alden, the Marine from the doomed cruiser Houston, whom they’d also carried from Surabaya. Together, they were building an army based on historical principles the captain had suggested. Matt had realized early on that the only way they could counter the overwhelming Grik numbers was with discipline — specifically, the Roman shield wall, backed by spears and archers. At least that’s what they’d need in an open-field fight. Shinya also understood Latin, which was, amazingly, the language of the Ancient Scrolls of the ’Cats. Not because it was taught them by Romans, but because that’s the language the sailing master of the HEIC (Honorable East India Company) ship Hermione chose to teach them and communicate in.

Matt suspected the earlier visitors did it to remain as enigmatic as possible, since there was evidence they’d already encountered the Grik, even before one of their ships was taken by them. The rest of the «Tail-less Ones» of that long ago visit had sailed into the «Eastern Sea» beyond the «edge of the world» and disappeared from Lemurian history. Matt suspected they were still out there, somewhere. British Indiamen often carried passengers and deportees, so there was reason to believe they’d survived. Anyway, that’s how they first communicated with the ’Cats; Bradford and Tamatsu Shinya spoke the «Ancient Tongue» of the Lemurian Sky Priests.

Valuable as Shinya was, many of Matt’s destroyermen still hated his guts simply because he was a «Jap.» Matt respected him and trusted his honor, but even he couldn’t put Pearl Harbor — and everything that had happened since — completely out of his mind. Chief Gray openly loathed him, despite saving his life in the recent battle. Tony Scott told him something he hadn’t even known about the Bosun: his son had been on the Oklahoma when she capsized and sank to Pearl Harbor’s muddy bottom.

«Where’s Pete?» asked the captain, referring to the Marine.

«He’ll be along,» Shinya replied. Even as he spoke, Alden and Chief Gray arrived on the bridgetly just as unimaginative, but Spanky had recently learned there was more to them than met the eye.

Normally, their skins were pasty with a belowdecks pallor they worked very hard to maintain, but now their exposed skin still bore the angry red-brown tans they’d accumulated while operating the first oil rig outside of Baalkpan. A rig they designed based on a type they were intimately, if ruefully, familiar with from their years in the oil fields before they escaped that hated life and joined the Navy. Now they were back at it and not happy at all.

Matt looked back toward Borno. He thought he could just make out the mouth of Baalkpan Bay. «We’re all going to have to do things we hate, I’m afraid, before this is over.» He sighed. «It’s going to be a hell of a homecoming,» he added nervously.

As the day wore on and the crew went about their duties, Walker towed her prize ever closer to Baalkpan. The nearer they got, the more traders and fishing boats paced her advance. Opening the bay, the old destroyer steamed toward her customary berth near the shipyard and the fitting-out pier. They had been gone less than two weeks, most of that time laying their trap for the Grik scouts they engaged. The battle itself took only a day, and the return voyage took three. The people had known the outcome, however, since the very day after the fight. The radio in the precious PBY was working now, and there had been constant reports. Then the big seaplane had flown out with passengers to examine the prize. Some, like Bradford, stayed with the returning ships, but those who returned on the plane were strangely tight-lipped. No matter. The dismasted hulk trailing in Walker’s wake was sufficient proof to the populace that the expedition had been a success.

As always, Matt was struck by the sight of the large, strange, but exotically beautiful city of Baalkpan. The unusual architecture of the multistoried buildings was strikingly similar to the pagoda-like structures that rose within the tripod masts of the great floating Homes. Some reached quite respectable heights and were highly decorated and painted with bright colors. Some were simple, one-story affairs, but all were elevated twenty or more feet above the ground by multitudes of stout pilings. Chack once told him that was done in order to protect against high water and «bad land lizards.» It was also tradition, which Matt supposed was as good a reason as any. He’d never seen any creatures ashore that could threaten anyone twenty feet above the ground, but he was assured they did exist. He believed it. There was certainly plenty of bizarre fauna in this terrible, twisted world.

Among the pilings, under the massive structures, was what some would call the «real» Baalkpan. It was there, beneath the buildings themselves or colorful awnings stretched between them, that the city’s lifeblood pulsed. It was a giant, chaotic bazaar that rivaled anything Matt had seen in China, or heard of anywhere else. Little organization was evident, beyond an apparent effort to congregate the various products or services in strands, or vaguely defined ranks. From experience, Matt knew there was no law or edict that required this; it was just practicality. This way, shoppers always knew where they had to go to find what they wanted. Along the waterfront,