were open for ventilation, but it was still oppressively hot. Without waiting for an invitation, Billingsly took a seat in front of the desk.
“I take it the Americans and their Apes have finally agreed to return the princess to us?” he ventured. “Even so, two months would seem… uncharacteristically parsimonious. They have not stinted our supplies before, and such a quantity might not see us home.”
“Her Highness still insists on returning home with her ‘friends,’ ” Jenks announced. “I spoke with her myself just prior to returning to the ship. You will be glad to know she is well, happy, and thriving,” he added with a barb.
“But…”
For once, Jenks saw Billingsly’s perpetual scowl dissolve into an expression of complete confusion. He had to stifle a sense of amusement and satisfaction over the bloated bastard’s discomfiture. “In slightly under three weeks’ time, Achilles will accompany an Allied squadron to the place they call Aryaal and perhaps points west and north, in an attempt to discover the current dispositions of these Grik of theirs. Captain Reddy made the offer, and after consulting with the princess, I accepted. I consider it an invaluable opportunity to assess the strategic threat posed by the Grik, as well as our hosts. We will be going as observers only and will not engage in hostilities if any do, in fact, occur. If they do, at the very least I will have the opportunity of seeing the Grik for myself and I’ll learn quite a bit about the military capability of this Alliance of theirs as well.”
Billingsly’s scowl returned and deepened while Jenks spoke. “You should not… must not make a decision like that without consulting me!” he said menacingly.
“I must and I did make the decision, Commander,” Jenks replied. “The offer was phrased in a ‘take it or leave it, now or never’ fashion,” Jenks lied smoothly, “and I saw no choice but to accept.”
“Of course you had a choice!” Billingsly countered hotly. “They will never send the princess on this ‘expedition’ of theirs! With the cream of their naval force otherwise engaged, we could easily take her and be gone!”
“Past those bloody great guns in the fort?” Jenks replied, his own voice rising. “You must be mad.”
“Plans could be made. They already have been,” he hinted. “With a judicious use of force, a few diversions, and a bit of mischief here and there, we could be gone before they could possibly respond.”
Jenks paused, considering his next words carefully. He knew they could condemn him of treason in any Company court. A naval inquiry might see things differently, but who was to say how things now stood after their long absence? He had no choice. “You are forgetting their iron-hulled steamer. I have seen it now, and I tell you it could easily catch us even if we proceeded under full steam for the entire trip-which we certainly cannot do. They intend to leave it here to ensure against any such scheme as you suggest.”
Billingsly’s expression suddenly became blank, unreadable. He took a breath. “A point,” he said. Then an incomprehensible thing occurred; Billingsly smiled. The expression was so foreign to his face that it almost seemed to crack under the strain. “You make a valid point,” he continued more earnestly. “And I apologize for my earlier rashness. You have clearly scored a coup! A major intelligence-gathering opportunity! I congratulate you.”
Taken aback, Jenks stared at the man. Billingsly’s mood had changed so abruptly and uncharacteristically, Jenks couldn’t avoid a creeping suspicion. But if Billingsly somehow knew he’d lied about Walker ’s condition, he would have arrested and usurped him on the spot. Wouldn’t he? Moreover, the opportunity was just as significant as Jenks had argued, after all. Perhaps the inscrutable Company man had simply recognized that in an apparent flash of insight, just as it seemed.
“Well, then…” Jenks said. “Very well.”
“I will, of course, remain here aboard Ajax in your absence, to continue to advance our interests and ensure the Apes understand we have not forgotten our princess,” Billingsly said.
Jenks was actually relieved. He’d expected Billingsly to demand to come along and he really didn’t want him breathing down his neck. Captain Rajendra of Ajax was a good officer and would keep him in check. Still a little disconcerted by his good fortune, Jenks spoke a little hesitantly: “Of course. Um, I don’t expect you to curtail your
… surreptitious activities, but please do try harder to avoid being caught. A temporary cessation, at least, might actually be in order. Perhaps they’ll drop their guard.”
“An excellent suggestion, Commodore. Perhaps they will think, with you and Achilles away, they have less reason to fear. I will encourage that perception for a time.” Billingsly stood. “Perhaps, at long last, we will see some movement here!” he said cheerfully. “By your leave?”
“Indeed.”
Commander Billingsly created what he considered a reassuring smile and left the commodore’s quarters. In the passageway beyond, his more comfortable scowl returned. “Damn him!” he muttered to himself, a kaleidoscope of thoughts whirling in his mind. He passed a midshipman-he didn’t know his name-in the passageway.
“You there. Boy,” he snarled.
The youth forced himself to pause, an expression of controlled terror on his face. Billingsly’s proclivities were well-known-as was his power to indefinitely delay a midshipman’s appointment to lieutenant. “Sir.”
“Run along to Lieutenant Truelove, with my compliments, and ask him to join me in my quarters!”
Visibly relieved, the midshipman raced off.
CHAPTER 5
C aptain Hisashi Kurokawa, formerly of His Imperial Japanese Majesty’s Ship Amagi, followed obediently behind his “masters” as they were escorted through the dark, dank, labyrinthine passageways of what was roughly translated as “the Palace of Creation,” toward the Holy Chamber of the Celestial Mother herself. He remained fully erect as he strode, carefully groomed and outwardly confident in his meticulously restored uniform complete with all his medals and many other meaningless, gaudy decorations he’d added for effect. Inwardly, he was terrified, and he’d learned enough about Grik body language-particularly that of the Hij-to know his masters weren’t quite as collected as they tried to appear. That Tsalka, General Esshk, and Kurokawa had actually achieved this audience and not merely been killed out of hand seemed a good sign. At least the Celestial Mother wanted to hear what they had to say. Chances were, worst case, they’d be allowed to destroy themselves and not simply be torn to shreds. Regardless, he knew his masters had some fast-convincing-talking to do if any of them were to have any hope of survival.
Tsalka, still dressed in the fine robes of his office as Imperial Regent-Consort of Ceylon and “Sire” of all India, had cautioned Kurokawa to say nothing unless directly addressed, and for once, for his very life, he’d better prostrate himself before the Celestial Mother. A formal bow simply wouldn’t do. Tsalka seemed the most concerned, and he nervously fiddled with his robes as they drew closer to the chamber. General Esshk was at least as outwardly calm as Kurokawa. Resplendent in his crimson cape, bronze armor, and polished, crested helmet, he still reminded Kurokawa of a fuzzy, reptilian caricature of a Roman tribune. He alone seemed oblivious to the heavily armed escort that accompanied them and only the occasional nervous twitch of his stumpy, dark-plumed tail beneath the cape betrayed any concern at all.
Of course, to his credit-Kurokawa supposed-Esshk’s concern was more for the survival of his species than for himself. He knew how critical were the observations and ideas the three of them brought to this interview. If the Celestial Mother disregarded their arguments-that to defeat the ancient “Prey That Got Away,” all the Grik must make profound, fundamental changes to their precious culture that had thrived in its present form for thousands of years-the ultimate foundation of that culture was doomed. Worse, from Esshk’s perspective, failure to adapt could mean the extermination of his very species. Somehow, the Celestial Mother, the keeper and protector of that culture, must be convinced that change was essential-at least temporarily-and he, Tsalka, and the Japanese “hunter” named Kurokawa were indispensible as the only possible agents of that change.
Finally, the Holy Chamber opened before them and Kurokawa got his first glimpse of it, and the Celestial Mother herself. The chamber wasn’t much different from Tsalka’s he’d seen in Ceylon, except in size. Flowering ivies carpeted the floor and crept up the walls, the farthest of which was lost in the distant gloom. They constituted the only real decoration besides the throne itself, situated in the center of the chamber and bathed in sunlight that entered through an opening high above. A complex system of ingenious mirrors made sure that whatever time of
