making a real effort to behave. His restriction to the ship had been only provisionally lifted, and if he was stuck on the ship, he couldn’t do his job. Matt was beginning to suspect Silva was the sort of person who rose to meet expectations. All his life he’d been expected to be a screwup-so he was. Now everyone, himself included, expected more, and so far he’d dedog still crapped on the floor now and then, but if Matt needed a guard dog, Silva was the best he could ask for, absent Gray.
“Morning, Silva. Anything on the horn?”
Dennis shook his head. “Just came from the ship,” he said, and Matt noticed the big man already had sweat circles under his arms. “Still no word. Clancy says it’s not on our end. There just ain’t anything to receive.” He saw the captain’s worried frown. “No big deal, Skipper; it’s prob’ly nothin’. Last report, everything was fine. Besides, you know what a klutz that Palmer is; he prob’ly popped a tube with a wrench, or maybe the damn airplane sank. Lieutenant Riggs’ll get it sorted out, or he’ll make a whole new bloody set.”
“I know. It’s just… Everything was fine before Pearl Harbor too,” Matt said, immediately regretting the display of uncertainty. Silva had no response to that. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat and straightening, “let’s see what kind of Kabuki dance the ’Cats have ready for us today. Besides, it’s breakfast time.” He paused, suddenly decisive. “Run back down to the ship, or send somebody, and inform Mr. Dowden to make preparations for getting underway. The Maa-ni-los are going to help us or not. Hanging around and pestering them probably won’t make any difference. It’s really Saan-Kakja’s decision, anyway. But I’ve had just about enough, and one way or another, this is our last day here.”
“Aye, aye, Skipper,” Silva replied with his usual unnerving lopsided grin.
Breakfast was a lavish, quiet affair, but Matt immediately got the impression that, today, things would proceed differently. Perhaps word had slipped that Walker ’s people were fed up and about to leave. Matt suspected Silva of the leak, but maybe that was best. As badly as they needed the Maa-ni-los, the Maa-ni-los needed them too, and if that was what it took to get the ball rolling, so be it. He was seated at one end of a long table, a position of prestige, and at the other end, in a place of equal honor, was Saan-Kakja. It was the first time he’d seen her since their arrival. All the negotiations had been conducted by underlings. Now, few of those underlings were present and Matt expected, as a result, things would move more swiftly. One way or the other.
Saan-Kakja sat on her stool across from him, locked in a posture of tense precision, lifting careful spoonfuls of fluffy yellow eggs to her mouth. Her short, silken, gray-black fur was carefully groomed, and glowed with the luster of healthy youth. Around her neck hung the golden gorget of her office, and occasionally her short, delicate fingers strayed between her small breasts and absently stroked the metal. It dawned on Matt, despite her noteworthy greeting, that she might not yet be comfortable in her exalted role, and he felt his heart go out to her. They’d learned a few things about her through back channels during the negotiations, and what they knew explained a great deal-particularly about her behavior. She really didn’t know how to proceed, and she’d delegated much to her High Sky Priest, who Adar thought was a “jerk,” to use a charitable translation. Her father had been Saanga-Kakja, which explained a little of the initial confusion. Keje and Adar had known him long ago, but not as High Chief. They’d hoped to be dealing with a person they knew. A widower like Keje, he died mere months earlier of a long illness. All his older offspring, from another, previously deceased mate, had already moved on: one as High Chief of a newly built, seahern Fil-pin Islands. All that remained to assume the mantle of leadership was Saan-Kakja, the young child of his young, much adored, and deeply lamented second, and final, mate. Some believed he actually died of sorrow, since he joined his beloved in the Heavens such a short time after her passing.
Regardless, he’d left his daughter-at the tender age of fourteen-ill-prepared to rule, and her understandably tentative approach, and willingness to delegate, undermined her authority. Lemurians matured much quicker than humans, but she was still considered a youngling even by her own people. She’d been through a lot, and was clearly aware she had a lot to live up to, but based on his first meeting with her and looking at her now, Matt suspected she’d do all right if she had the right kind of help and support. Safir Maraan had risen at a younger age, and look how she’d turned out. Of course, the cultures were different, and she’d always had Haakar-Faask to back her up. Apparently there was no Haakar-Faask for Saan-Kakja. There was only her Sky Priest.
The Sky Priest in question sat on Saan-Kakja’s left. He was called Meksnaak, and despite Adar’s opinion, Matt didn’t really know what to think of him. He seemed dour and suspicious, and couldn’t have been more different from Adar. Adar was seated in his customary place beside Keje, even though he was Sky Priest to more than just a single Home. His example and personality-not to mention his early recognition of the greater threat-had done much to smooth the waters between the Americans and the various factions that ultimately formed the alliance. He’d shamelessly waved the bloody shirt of Revenge, the allies’ first “prize ship.” Her loss, and the loss of her integrated crew in a struggle against impossible odds, had provided a shining example of honor and sacrifice to the technically amalgamated, but increasingly Lemurian “U.S. Navy.” The two species had both been somewhat ethnocentric when they met, but even given their mutual need for allies, there’d been surprisingly little friction. Maybe they were so physically different, there was no real basis for racial resentment. Each looked equally “funny” to the other, but each had recognizable strengths the other lacked. The battle resulting in the loss of Revenge set the ultimate precedent of coequal status among the two species, and began a growing tradition of “equal glory or a shared death.” Matt reminded himself the Maa-ni-los were not yet part of any such tradition.
He cornered the last of his eggs between his spoon and a strip of fish, and when he ate them both he realized the others had mostly finished. He cleared his throat. Recognizing the gesture, Saan-Kakja laid aside her own single utensil, an instrument like a broad-bladed, concave knife that also served as a kind of spoon or scoop. It was gold, like so many other Maa-ni-lo devices. Matt hadn’t seen as much gold in his life, certainly not among other Lemurians, as he had in the last few days. The thing was, it didn’t seem to have any value other than that it didn’t tarnish and it was pretty. The High Chief. .. tess?-absurd, they didn’t think like that. Their word, U-Amaki, transcended gender. The High Chief dabbed daintily at her mouth with an embroidered napkin and sat even straighter, if possible.
“Cap-i-taan Reddy,” she began. “I must begin by begging you to forgive me for neglecting you so inexcusably.” Meksnaak blinked furiously and opened his mouth to speak, but she darted a look in his direction that Matt couldn’t read, and his jaws clamped shut. '1em'›
“I have heard much about your adventures and battles against the scourge from the west, and I am inspired. I allowed myself to be convinced, however, that my excitement was that of an emotional youngling, and here we are safe from attack. Better to stay uninvolved-beyond learning as much from you as we can, and helping you in small, safe, material ways. There are… factions in Maa-ni-la that thrive on contention and intrigue, and are obsessed with their own petty concerns. They counsel that we let you, Baalkpan, and the other allied Homes stand alone against the Grik, while we remain safely uninvolved. We are prosperous, happy, stable, and untouched by the distant threat. Even if Baalkpan falls, the Grik will be content to remain far away, and in the meantime our trade, industry, and prosperity will flourish even more.” Her ears flattened with contempt. “Of course, there are also the ones you call ‘runaways,’ who counsel that, even if the Grik do someday come here, we can flee once more as we did in the ancient tales of the Scrolls; that we have grown too comfortable, too fixed in place, too reliant upon the land.”
Matt nodded. Those were the same arguments he and Nakja-Mur had faced when they first suggested defiance. Most people on the seagoing Homes couldn’t comprehend their cousins’ attachment to places, or understand their unwillingness to leave them. Keje did, and so did the other members of the alliance. They knew there’d be no escape this time. The world was a smaller place, and now the Grik had oceangoing ships of their own, albeit tiny in comparison; they had so many, the terrible sea was no longer the protector it had been. It was like the old scorpion and tarantula in the jar. The tarantula wasn’t well equipped to cope with the scorpion, but sooner or later he had to deal with his deadly, aggressive adversary, because he couldn’t avoid him forever, and there just wasn’t anyplace else to go. It was always a toss-up who’d win.
“I understand you grow impatient,” Saan-Kakja resumed, “and I do not blame you. Your most powerful ship is here, and you languish in comfort and are free from want, but all the while the enemy may be massing against you. You are frustrated by our intransigence, and don’t understand our hesitation to join you.” She shook her head. “Honestly, I am as frustrated as you, and my patience is possibly even less. I do know what causes it, however. My people are comfortable and free from want. That is a condition any good ruler desires, but there are times, such as this, that that very condition makes it difficult for such a ruler to convince those comfortable people they must put that aside and face the unpleasant reality of the harsher world beyond their sight.” She sighed and turned again to Meksnaak.
“What of the proposal I put before the counsel? That we join the alliance to destroy the Grik threat forever,
