Down… Good!” He stepped aside. “Fire!” Pack Rat stomped on the pedal. The gun barked and recoiled backward, but Silva was watching the tracer. It struck right in the middle gun
“A hit!” Rebecca cried excitedly.
“Woop-te-do. Might as well throw hand grenades at the bastard,” Silva explained dejectedly. “Well, that’s that,” he said, squeezing Rebecca’s hand before letting it go. Suddenly he hurt all over, and he was sick inside as well. “Beat feet back to the pilothouse. There’s no sense standing around and getting shot if we ain’t got no more bullets! I’ll tell the captain we’re dry.” He started to turn.
“Silva, look!” Pack Rat shouted. Dennis did. Amagi was suddenly leaning a little farther to port and veering hard right.
“What the hell?” he murmured. “Maybe we hit her steering engine or something?” Whether that was the case, or Amagi had simply tired of the dog yapping at her heels and decided to present her remaining broadside of secondary guns and destroy the nuisance that tasked her, Silva had no idea. He knew the latter would be the result, however, and Walker heeled as the captain saw it too. Sluggishly, Walker turned hard a’port, but her grace and quickness were gone. The short delay was just enough to put her at a disadvantage, and there was nothing she could do. Silva clutched the girl to his side and braced himself for the final fusillade, while Amagi continued her sharp turn, out of the main channel, and into the prepared lane they’d left the day before. She was drawing considerably more water this time when she passed directly over the MK-6 magnetic exploder-and the cluster of depth charges it was anchored to.
The sea convulsed around her, just under the number two turret, and her entire bow heaved up upon the gigantic swelling of foam. Then a geyser of spray erupted forth and completely inundated the forward half of the ship. There was very little flash, but the sound of the blast was enormous. Amagi collapsed into the hole the charges left in the water, the sea closing over the bow before it shuddered back to the surface like a submarine. Only now, it was… crooked… somehow. The outline of the ship had visibly changed, and even as they watched, it contorted still more. Water surged near the base of the forward superstructure, but there was red paint visible beneath her pointed bow.
“ Broke her goddamn back! ” Silva bellowed. “I knew it would work!” Pack Rat looked at him incredulously, and Rebecca threw her arms around his waist.
Captain Kurokawa was thrown against the chart table by the force of the blast. His head struck the edge, and he lay stunned for several moments. He comprehended a great roaring, surging sensation, as well as screams and urgent shouts. Amagi heaved beneath him, and the deck began to cant.
“Nooooo!”
He didn’t recognize the cry that escaped his lips. It was primordial. Staggering to his feet, he looked about. All the windows were smashed, and sparks fell like fiery rain from shorted conduits on the overhead. The flames that engulfed his ship aft boiled to unprecedented heights-then began to subside. The tilt of the deck was becoming more extreme. “No!” he shrieked again. The bridge seemed deserted of all but bodies. Those who’d left their posts would pay, he grimly swore. Then he saw movement on the blistered bridge wing. Still groggy, Kurokawa recognized the Amerit='1em' width='1em'›Great clouds of steam and smoke gushed skyward aft as the sea closed over the fires. A heavy detonation rumbled across the water, and soot and steam belched from the stack. Finally the savaged fantail disappeared from view with a tremendous, thundering gurgle of escaping air. Only then did a heartfelt cheer erupt from Walker ’s survivors.
Finally! Matt thought. His entire body felt almost rubbery with relief. My God… Finally! He closed his eyes briefly in thanks. A few Grik ships frantically tacked past the smoldering wreck, headed for the Makassar Strait. Walker had nothing left to shoot at them.
Matt looked at his watch. “Oh two five eight, Mr. Reynolds. Please record it in the log.” He looked at Gray. “Now, if only things are going okay ashore,” he said grimly, watching the fleeing ships. It was impossible to tell if they were going to reinforce the landing in the south, or just running away. He had no idea if they were winning or losing the battle on land, and all of Baalkpan seemed to burn.
“Survivors?” Gray asked with distaste, gesturing at the boats in the water and the protruding pagoda. Matt shook his head.
“They’re fine for now,” he said. “If we take time to bring them aboard, they’ll just be in the water with us. How fast can we push her without putting too much stress on the forward bulkheads, Spanky?”
McFarlane seemed distracted, concentrating. “Six knots?” he hazarded. “Faster than that and you’ll drive her under. Slower and she’ll sink before we get there. I expect you’ll try to make it to the shipyard?”
Matt nodded sadly. “That’s my hope. I’ll angle her toward shore, though, just in case she doesn’t make it.”
He looked back at Amagi ’s wreck as he spun the wheel for home. “I wish Jim could’ve seen this,” he said.
By some freakish miracle of buoyancy, Mahan ’s stern still floated. The entire forward part of the ship had been obliterated by the blast, removing the flooded weight that would have quickly pulled the rest of her down. The explosion also heaved the shattered aft section backward against the continued thrust of her single screw. The watertight integrity was completely gone, however, and the stern was filling rapidly. Escaping air shrieked through the many rents, and the deck tilted ever downward.
Jim and two ’Cats had dragged Sandison into the meager protection of the battered aft deckhouse before the huge explosion drove them to the deck. One of the ’Cats was blown over the side, but the other had been there to revive him. Still lying on the deck, Jim watched with stunned bitterness, and a profound sense of betrayal and futility, as Amagi began to steam out of the harbor in spite of her massive wound. He’d killed his ship, and who knew how many of her crew, for nothing. Then, to his bleary-eyed astonishment, he saw Walker giving chase.
He knew it was a pointless gesture, as futile as his own had been. Walker could never finish the monster with only her lonely number one gun, and clearly d already been removed by the flotilla surrounding her. Several men and ’Cats stood on the fire-control platform, and there was movement on the bridge as well. If Matt still lived, that was where he’d be. She shouldered her way through the throng for a better look, and seeing who she was, most parted and made a lane for her to pass. She didn’t notice them, but if she had, she’d have seen the deferential lowered ears and blinks of respect running through the crowd.
Walker edged into the basin and slowed to a stop less than fifty yards from the pier. The overtaxed launches tried to pull her closer, but it was clearly no use. The ship was going fast. As Sandra watched, the aft fireroom access trunk opened with a clang, and a mist of steam gushed out. A short female ’Cat crawled onto the deck, then reached back inside the opening. With a mighty heave she pulled first one, then another pale, grimy form into the light. Coughing and leaning on one another, the three quickly shuffled under the amidships deckhouse toward the ladder at the back of the bridge. As if she’d been waiting for that very event, Walker finally surrendered herself to the sea. Water crept over the fo’c’sle and coursed into the jagged hole. The rasping blower went silent, but the sound was replaced with a massive, urgent whoosh as the bow dipped lower and lower. With a juddering, grinding thump, it struck the silty bottom. There was an almost dying groan as the rest of the ship quickly settled. All that remained above water was the top of the bridge and her four battered funnels resting at a slight angle to port. Most of the flag was still visible too, jostled by the rising, turbulent froth of escaping air.
There was an audible, mournful sigh from the crowd, replaced by a frenzied cheer when a large, bloodied man above the bridge-whom Sandra recognized as Dennis Silva-gave a jaunty wave with one hand, while the other supported a small girl sitting on his shoulders. Tabby and the Mice stiffly ascended the ladder to the crowded platform, and Sandra felt her heart leap into her throat when Matt climbed wearily up from the bridge to join them. She was yelling now too, waving her arms over her head, and tears streamed down her cheeks.
Wherever she came from, there was no doubt: USS Walker, DD-163, and her lost and lonely crew had found their way home at last.
EPILOGUE
Disaster,” Tsalka hissed mournfully. “Utter and complete disaster.” The rising sun presided over the beginnings of a bright, brisk morning in the Makassar Strait, and of the almost four hundred ships comprising the Invincible Swarm, less than seventy now accompanied the Giorsh, Esshk’s flagship, as it sailed back toward Aryaal.
