Jenks bristled again, but calmed himself. “Understood.” He turned to Billingsly. “I assume you will want to remain? Very well. Choose someone from your… department. He and Ensign Parr will transfer to Agamemnon and proceed home with the happy news about the princess. Ajax will remain here for now, with Achilles. I will draft orders and a brief dispatch.” He turned to Matt. “Is that acceptable?”
For some reason, Matt was hesitant. But that had been part of Bradford’s proposal, after all. “Sure.”
“We should have just sent him away with the promise we would bring the girl,” growled Keje quietly as the launch burbled back to Donaghey . “The girl” was still with them, having refused to part with her friends. She was distressed and confused by Jenks’s attitude, not to mention Billingsly’s presence. She didn’t know Billingsly, but she knew what he was. For now, she much preferred to remain among people she trusted unreservedly. That was what she’d whispered to Matt, and he wondered if Keje overheard or just picked up on it too. That might explain his sudden animosity. Agamemnon was already piling on sail and beginning to slant eastward. With the freshening breeze, her paddle wheels were free-spinning. “With Jenks hanging around here, he’ll see too much,” Keje added.
“Possibly.” Matt nodded at the Bosun. “Gray’s always been a pretty good judge of character and he said Jenks is an asshole.” He sighed resignedly. “Having met him, I’m inclined to agree. But Adar’s probably an even better judge. He won’t let his fascination with the ‘ones who came before’ cloud his judgment.”
Keje huffed noncommitally. Before ascending to his current lofty title, Adar had been Keje’s own High Sky Priest, and the two had been like brothers their entire lives. Keje knew Matt was right, but his own impression of Jenks had been very similar to Gray’s. He’d actually been surprised by that. According to Matt, his Amer-i-caans and Jenks’s people were related in some way. He supposed he’d expected them to behave more alike. Jenks’s reaction to Keje’s people’s situation couldn’t have been more different from that of Matt and his destroyermen.
“Besides,” said Gray, “he never would’ve gone for that-just leaving, I mean.”
“Right,” Matt agreed. “And over time, maybe we can loosen him up. If we can make friends with the Brits, and if we can trust them, we’ll have to bring them up to speed on our programs anyway.”
Gray snorted and shook his head. “You know, it sure is weird-not trusting Brits, I mean. Sure, in our history we weren’t friends all the time, but we were on the same side in the last war, and we were best friends in the war we left behind-both of us fightin’ the Japs. Those guys on Exeter and Encounter and all the others, they were the same as us. They were our guys. We might’ve gotten in fights in bars, made fun of other, and called other names, but we’d watch out for each other too. This Jenks guy drives it home in no uncertain terms that we ain’t on the same side here. Some of the fellas are liable to get.. . confused.”
Matt was thoughtful. “Good point, Boats. Make sure everybody knows these aren’t the same Brits we knew back home. No fights, no trouble-we do want to be their friends-but right now, we’re not. We’ll have talks, and I’ll use the fact that we had a special relationship with the descendants of Jenks’s ancestors. Maybe that’ll help. But once our visitors know that, we don’t want them to take advantage of it either, buddy up to our guys and pump them for information. That sort of thing.”
“Aye-aye, Skipper.”
CHAPTER 2
Adar, High Chief of Baalkpan, Chairman (by acclamation) and High Sky Priest of the Grand Alliance, paced restlessly in the large conference chamber. He felt uncomfortable in his new role, and truthfully, he would have done almost anything to avoid it. Almost. The problem was, uncomfortable as he felt, there were very few people he personally trusted with the responsibility at this critical and confusing time. Those he did trust already had crucial and possibly even more important roles to play.
Keje could have done it, even though he’d probably never spent six consecutive months on dry land in his life. He was a hero and he’d nearly sacrificed his Home and his life to defend the “land folk” of Baalkpan. Keje had actually been the first acclaimed as High Chief, but he’d flatly refused. He had a Home. Battered and wounded beyond imagination, Salissa Home was still his responsibility and he was her High Chief.
Adar understood that. Being Sky Priest of Salissa was all he’d ever aspired to himself. Over the last year however, old Naga, High Sky Priest of Baalkpan, had grown increasingly disassociated and Adar had assumed more and more of his duties. Land folk needed a Sky Priest to help chart their course through perilous times, just as sea folk looked to their priests in perilous seas. With Naga’s death, and that of the great Nakja-Mur, Adar had been Baalkpan’s second choice and he found himself practically drafted to fill the void caused by the loss of both leaders. He really hadn’t had a choice. He’d become a prominent, well-known figure to all the diverse elements of the Alliance and he was one of the few people everyone seemed to trust. Ultimately, he’d concluded, the one thing he couldn’t do to avoid the job was let someone less committed than him or Keje take it.
He honestly believed Matt could have won the necessary support, even though he wasn’t “of the People,” but there would have been some dissent. They needed unity now above all things, and Matt was far more useful at the point of the spear. They’d never even discussed it, but Adar knew Matt would have agreed. He probably would have been astonished and horrified even to be considered. That left only Adar with the popularity, strength of will, and determination not only to continue the fight, but to carry it to the enemy once more.
He still wore the priestly robes of his former office, but his responsibilities had expanded dramatically. Though all Homes on land or sea were considered equal by tradition, Baalkpan had taken the lead in the war and its leader had gained at least the perception of being a little more equal than other members of the Alliance. Adar agreed with the arrangement in principle; somebody had to be in charge, but he wasn’t convinced he was up to the task. Becoming a High Chief was difficult enough, but leading the entire Alliance was something else again. Chairman was the loftiest title he would accept.
He knew he was a better choice than some, since his dedication to “the cause” was unwavering. He spent most of his time convincing less enthusiastic allies that the war wasn’t over and all they’d won at Baalkpan was a single battle. Final victory would be achieved only when the Grik were utterly eradicated. That was an argument he could put his heart and soul into, one he’d advocated ever since they’d discovered the true nature of their enemy. He wasn’t as confident he was the best choice to implement the policy, however. He allowed himself a small grin. Of course, that was what he had Captain Reddy for.
The conference would soon begin and the chamber was filled to overflowing. It wasn’t as large as Nakja- Mur’s Great Hall had been, but it would be months before that edifice was completely rebuilt. At least the great Galla tree the hall once encompassed had survived the fire. When the first new leaves began to unfold on its charred branches, the People took it as an omen of healing and heavenly favor. It had given them even greater confidence in their choice of Adar to lead them. Adar only wished he were as confident as they. He was beginning to understand the profound difference between strongly advocating a course of action, and ordering that action carried out.
He continued to pace while the expectant chatter grew ever louder. Nakja-Mur would have lounged on a cushion, outwardly calm. Even when inwardly terrified-as Adar had known he often was-he’d always managed an air of confidence, if not always in himself, then in the people he’d chosen to advise him. Adar had many of the same advisors, those who’d survived, and he’d even acquired a curious new one since the return of the evacuated seagoing Homes: a human holy woman, a nun who’d been with the Amer-i-caans Captain Reddy rescued from the amazing diving ship. Matt called its crew “sub-maa-riners,” and apparently, their wondrous vessel still lay on the beach of Talaud Island.
The nun, Sister Audry, was an… interesting creature. She spoke the Amer-i-caans’ tongue with a different sound and Adar had learned she sprang from yet another human clan, the Dutch. He understood she was attractive too, by human standards, yet she had no mate and cited an oath to her God to take none. Adar couldn’t imagine why any God-and he was beginning to suspect his Maker of All Things and the human God were one and the same-would require such an oath. Nevertheless, an oath was an oath, whether demanded or freely given. He didn’t understand it-yet-but he did respect it. With the scarcity of human females in the vicinity, however, he would have thought she’d face resentment. Not so. All the Amer-i-caans appeared to respect her abstinence as a matter of course, and many sought her out just to talk. Adar did too. On the few occasions they’d had leisure to visit, he’d been charmed by her conviction, personality, and philosophy-even as he’d been troubled by the implications of much of what she’d said.
