Crusade

«Good. Then I want you in the nose turret.»

«The nose turret! Ben, this guy hasn’t come anywhere near the nose since he started.»

«That’s about to change. Give all your bullets to the port gunner and tell him to hammer away the next time that Jap gets in range. He’s got all the bullets in the world, got it?»

«Sure, but.»

«That’s when I’m going to lower the wing floats.»

«What! Damn, Ben! That’ll just slow us down even further. We’ll be sitting ducks!»

«No, listen! If he thinks we’re about to set down, he’ll pull out all the stops. He has to shoot this plane down to destroy it. Once we’re down, he can shoot at it till he runs out of fuel or bullets — which he has to be getting low on — and not do any appreciable damage unless he gets another lucky hit on an engine. Besides, he’s bound to know our marksmanship would improve dramatically. Hitting a moving target from a stationary one is a lot easier than moving versus moving.»

«Are we going to land on the water?»

«Not unless we have to,» Ben confessed.

«Why not? It sounds like the perfect plan. We’d have all the advantages. If we don’t shoot him down, we just wait till he flies away.» Ben cleared hlf the time I don’t know how I do it with two. You keep forgetting — I’m not a seaplane pilot. I’m still making most of this up as I go.»

Ed groaned. «Okay, Ben. I’m with you. And here comes our little friend, right on cue.»

«Get in the nose, Ed. As soon as he starts shooting, I’m lowering the floats. Anything could happen after that.»

Ed rushed forward. When he arrived, he was reminded just how much he hated the nose turret. It was built for guys a lot smaller than he was and it seemed like a stupid design. He had actually given it a lot of thought and believed he could have come up with something better. The first change would have been the emplacement of something more powerful than a measly.30-cal. It might have been a little cramped with a.50, but they could get a smaller guy. If they got a smaller guy to work the plane’s radios and help with navigation, that would be fine too. He put on the headset and racked the bolt, chambering a round.

«Aaaa-eeesh!» cried the gunner in the waist. «I chop him up good that time! Shoot up tail! Maybe kill gunner. Get even for my friend!»

«Where’d he go?» questioned Ben.

«Straight out, away. Direction. nine. nine clocks?»

«You get that, Ed? I think it’s working. Keep your eyes peeled.»

«I got it.» Palmer strained his eyes through the cloudy Plexiglas. The plane and all its components had been through so much, looking for a plane through the turret was like looking for a minnow in four feet of murky water.

In any event, it took much longer than any of them expected for the Dave to get around in front of them. Maybe it was being careful, or maybe it truly was damaged and had lost some speed. Whatever the reason, when Ed first saw the enemy plane, it was already closer than they’d hoped to spot it, but it was doing exactly what they’d expected: going for the PBY’s remaining engine from the front.

«There he is,» Ed announced, more calmly than he felt. «I can’t judge distance through this crummy glass, though. You’re going to have to tell me when he’s in range.»

«Uh, he’s already shooting at us, so whenever you’re ready.»

«Have you seen this can of ammo down here?» he demanded hotly. «This one can of ammo? I need him closer!» A few bullets began to strike the plane.

«He’s getting closer!»

«Just a few more seconds!» Ed could see the plane clearly now. If it was damaged aft, he couldn’t tell, but it was coming straight in, yellow flashing from its single forward firing machine gun. More bullets were hitting the PBY and Ben’s voice grew more insistent. Even Tikker’s voice rose in an indignant shriek. Ed paid no attention — even when one bullet grazed the curved Plexiglas mere inches in front of his face. He was concentrating on the sights. They were crude and pretty much limited to known ranges, but he aimed carefully at the steady target of the biplane’s round engine, raised the sights a little, and started to fire. He wasn’t using short bursts like he ought to have; he was trying to hose out a solid wall of lead that the seemingly flimsy biplane couldn’t survive. Evidently, by the sounds of impact, that’s what the enemy hoped as well.

Finally, exultantly, he saw a flash and a gout of smoke erupt from the Dave’s engine, and the plane seemed to wobble as if the pilot was struggling for control. Ed let out a whoop, but an instan secondaries or fragments. Beyond the fortifications, Matt saw little change to the city he’d come to think of almost as home, but the fortifications themselves made a profound difference.

In the distance, tied to the old fitting-out pier, was Mahan. A wisp of smoke coiled from her number one stack and she seemed to be nearly half covered by Chief Gray’s new light gray paint scheme. Matt knew Jim wouldn’t be goofing around with paint if a lot of his ship’s other issues hadn’t already been resolved.

By contrast, if the city and its surroundings looked different now than they had when Walker led the Allied Expeditionary Force to raise the siege of Aryaal, the destroyer had changed just as much. Gone was her own dazzling light gray paint. Instead, the elderly ship was almost a uniform orange color, with heavy, darker streaks down her sides. Harsh red rust shone through the smoke-blackened sections, and the large numbers, 163, that had stood so tall and proud at her bow were nearly obliterated. Clusters of splinter wounds and a few larger holes were visible in her flanks, and streams of water coursed over the side as beleaguered pumps struggled to force it out of the overloaded, battered hull. Alone she would have been a dismal, dispiriting sight, but the hundreds of hollow-eyed, bedraggled Lemurians packing her top-heavy deck gave testimony to the greater tragedy.

Because of her arrival, even with all the preparations under way, thousands of people were on hand to witness her slow approach to the dock. The contents of the radio message detailing the events of the night had rapidly spread. There was no reason to conceal the fact that Nerracca and most of the people aboard her were lost. It would have been a greater shock to the morale of the defenders if they’d known nothing until Walker came in alone. The one thing that mitigated against total despair was the obvious fact that Walker had put up a hell of a fight and had saved as many as she could. So strong was the Lemurian faith in the old destroyer’s power, they felt sure if Walker looked this bad, surely Amagi was in much worse condition — if she had in fact survived. Most of them couldn’t conceive of the difference between the two ships’ relative size and power, and Walker’s daring, vengeful counterattack had been duly reported as well. It was still a somber crowd that waited to greet the survivors.

Finally, a sharp, congratulatory toot! toot! and a cloud of steam issued from Mahan’s repaired whistle and the trancelike immobility of the crowd was broken. Dockworkers shouldered their way through and positioned themselves to catch lines thrown by destroyermen on the ship. Up close, Walker looked even worse and the smoke and steam that rose from her aft stacks resembled nothing so much as an exhausted gasp. Gangplanks were rigged and the stunned survivors began to disembark. Some were met by family or acquaintances who had already arrived on Humfra- Dar. Big Sal was in the bay but hadn’t yet reached the dock. No one aboard her would have any idea what had taken place. Walker flew only a cryptic signal as she churned past her lumbering old friend. «Glad to see you. Must off-load passengers before we sink.»

Most of the survivors weren’t met by anyone. They just wandered around in small, confused groups as though in a daze. Most were females or younglings who’d lost everything they ever knew. They’d suffered the trauma of leaving their homes and had nearly been killed at sea. Many of their loved ones were dead. Now they were cast on the shores of an unknown, alien land. Fortunately, someone in a position of authority had their wits about them, and squads of way. At the urging of officers, the crowd began to disperse and return to their now even more insistent chores. When a lane was cleared, the wounded were carried ashore. There were quite a few.

Matt watched from the port bridgewing while Sandra supervised below. Beside her still was Queen Maraan, giving support and encouragement to the injured — no matter where they were from. Matt’s admiration for the Orphan Queen had grown even greater than before. He knew she was a strong and respected leader to the people