on Singapore. A couple of them want to help us out, and that’s swell, but what were we going to do with the other ones? I don’t think Okada’ll rebuild the Japanese Empire with a handful of Japs and a few kooky ’Cats.”
“I’m sure you are right,” Adar said. “I hope they may find happiness there. But what else has our illustrious Colonel Shinya been up to?”
“Training Saan-Kakja’s army, mostly. We left a few Marines to begin the process before we went looking for the sub in the first place, and judging by the quality of the troops Saan-Kakja has already sent, they’ve done a pretty good job with the basics. Shinya’s been training them in larger unit tactics so they’ll be more prepared to step right into line as fully formed, independent regiments once they get here. That’s what’s taken the most time in the past; they show up with excellent basic infantry skills such as those we’ve taught our own troops, but their officers and NCOs don’t have any experience. In other words, Shinya’s trying to teach them all the stuff we’ve had to learn the hard way.”
“What of the Fil-pin industry? How does their shipbuilding proceed?” Adar asked anxiously.
“It’s not up to our level yet,” Alan Letts replied, “but I expect it will be pretty soon. No offense, but the Fil-pin Lands had already outstripped Baalkpan as an industrial trading center before the war even started.”
“You certainly do not offend me.” Adar chuckled. “Remember, I was but a lowly Sky Priest when this war began. I had no notion or concern regarding the relative industrial capacity of Baalkpan or Maa-ni-la. Any disparity may have troubled the great Nakja-Mur, but my only interest lies in what our combined capabilities might accomplish.”
“Well, as I said, their production of ships, weapons, and heavy equipment hasn’t quite matched ours just yet, but their fundamental industrial base and capacity is greater. Baalkpan had one large foundry when we arrived. It was mostly devoted to casting huge anchors or ‘feet’ for your humongous floating homes, but we turned it to pouring large cannons easily enough. We have upwards of half a dozen even larger foundries now, some pouring iron, but Manila had that many to start with. Once they hit their stride, I think we’ll be in pretty good shape. They’ve already blown us away as far as leather implements, canvas, grain production, even leather body armor are concerned. They had a bigger labor pool to begin with, and when everybody began fleeing there in the face of the Grik, that labor pool grew even more.” Letts’s expression was philosophical. “We’ll catch back up to some degree as people continue returning. In the long term, Baalkpan has much greater potential than Manila. Borno is a big island. Lots of space and raw materials. There’s no reason why Baalkpan and Manila ever need to become rivals, if any of your people are worried about that.”
Adar waved his hand. “That is the least of my worries, although I must admit the possibility is a concern to some. As you know, I ultimately seek a greater, more permanent union than our presently strong but potentially fragile Grand Alliance represents.”
“I think he was asking ‘How many ships have the Maa-ni-los built so far?’” Riggs supplied, sotto voce.
“Oh! I’m sorry, Mr. Chairman.” Letts shook his head. “I guess I’m a little preoccupied today.”
“Quite understandable under the circumstances,” Adar allowed. “Our people share far more similarities than one might ever imagine just by
… looking at us. There are profound differences, of course, but our unity and friendship feed upon a number of fundamental commonalities.” He grinned. “Such as our devotion to mates and younglings, it would appear. I have watched how the mid-age younglings you rescued from the Talaud submarine behave, and that behavior is somewhat consistent with that of our own young of like age. Your mate’s youngling is due to arrive at any time, I understand, and I am most anxious to observe the behavior of a human infant!”
“Trust me,” Riggs jabbed, “the behavior of the human parents is far more bizarre!”
“Say-” Letts grinned. “Steve’s probably right. Anyway, Shinya reports that the Maa-ni-los have only finished two steamers, but they’re close on a couple more, and they have ten that’ll be in the water within a month. He says the wood isn’t as good-they weren’t drying it like we were-but they’ve set up kilns. Hopefully, that’ll work. Their hardwoods are a little different than those around here too.”
“Maa-ni-lo-built Homes and feluccas last just as long as those built here,” Adar mused. “As in all things, ‘different’ may not mean ‘not as good.’ ”
“Of course, Mr. Chairman,” Letts replied. “I think he meant it wasn’t as good in the sense that it wasn’t as ‘ready.’ Maa-ni-la was building two or so Homes a year, and their hardwood supply has moved away from the city. It takes them longer to cut it, move it to the construction area, and lay it up for drying. That’s why they’re setting up kilns. Aside from the hardwood we’d already laid up when we cleared the jungle away from the city, the people here only used to build a Home once every couple of years, so there was a lot more suitable wood nearby. A Home takes at least ten times as much wood as one of our new frigates. Don’t worry,” he said soothingly, “they’ll catch up pretty quick, and probably surpass us in shipbuilding.”
“How is our dear Saan-Kakja holding out?” Adar asked. Saan-Kakja was a remarkable High Chief in many ways. Like so many of the “youngling rulers” or commanders this war had created or “brought of age,” Saan-Kakja had “stepped up to the plate” with poise, resolve, and a singular dedication to “the cause.” They’d been fortunate in her, and others as well: Tassana-Ay-Aracca, Safir Maraan, Chack-Sab-At, Princess Rebecca-arguably even Matthew Reddy himself. He was no “youngling” at thirty-three, but he was awfully young for the responsibilities heaped upon him. So was Pete Alden. He’d been just a sergeant in USS Houston ’s Marine contingent, and now he was General of the Armies and Marines. Alan Letts himself had been a lazy, freckled kid from Idaho, marking time as Walker ’s supply officer. Now he was Adar’s and Captain Reddy’s chief of staff. It was like that for most of the men and women who’d ridden Walker, Mahan, and S-19 through the Squall that brought them here.
Of them all, however, Saan-Kakja was burdened with the greatest responsibility for her age. While in Baalkpan, she’d passed her fourteenth season and, as High Chief of all the Fil-pin Lands, she ruled over the largest single territory claimed by any one High Chief. Even Adar didn’t claim all of Borno. He ruled only the inhabited settlements thereon, and then only until they were independent. Most of the many islands of the Fil-pin Lands were populated to some degree or other, and all were “daughters” of Ma-ni-la. Only her brother’s settlement on southwestern Mindanao, Paga-Daan, had been close to independence, and now that brother was dead-killed by Walter Billingsley and the HNBC.
In addition to the difficulties of overseeing a painful and somewhat resentful industrial revolution in a land that was rapidly becoming the “arsenal of freedom,” Saan-Kakja had to deal with an even larger population of malcontents and antiwar “runaways.” The guilds were more entrenched there, and she hadn’t even had the support of her own Sky Priest, Meksnaak, at first. Her iron will had finally co-opted Meksnaak and the council members she hadn’t fired, and with Shinya’s help and the devotion of her army and the majority of her people, she’d steamrolled the guilds. Adar-and most of the chiefs of the allied Homes and cities-worried most about the “runaway” faction. With Maa-ni-la firmly in the Alliance, they had nowhere left to flee, and it is always remarkable how violent some “pacifists” can become in order to maintain their status.
Adar worried for Saan-Kakja, with her mesmerizing golden eyes. He worried for Matt and Walker. He worried about the fate of Princess Rebecca, Sandra Tucker, and even Dennis Silva. He feared for the safety of his own new realm and the exposed distance of the 2nd Allied Expeditionary Force. He couldn’t help it. All were beyond his help and all were people he cared about a great deal.
He glanced through the small shutter at the world beyond the War Room. The rain that had come with the dawn was over, and as though the Heavens had exhausted themselves early that day, the sky was suddenly clear and bright.
“I am, of course, well informed regarding those events that have transpired in Baalkpan today,” he began. That was certainly true. He’d been at the docks himself when his old Home, Big Sal, finally rebuilt and completed as the allies’ first “aircraft carrier,” or more appropriately, “seaplane tender,” got underway and steamed slowly out of the bay under the command of his oldest friend, Keje-Fris-Ar.
Watching that had been a bittersweet experience. His old Home had risen from near destruction to become the most powerful warship known to exist, but she was no longer his Home. Baalkpan was his Home now; he’d made that choice. But Salissa epitomized the changes his society-his world-was undergoing at such inexorable speed. No longer did she stand to sea under her lofty, mighty, beautiful wings. Instead, she belched smoke, and two massive engines turned a single giant screw propeller. She would never be fast, like Walker, but she would always be faster than she’d ever been, and in any direction.
Adar knew Salissa ’s conversion was the only way she would ever survive this new kind of war. It was the only way she could really contribute. Other High Chiefs had volunteered their Homes as well: Tassana had offered Aracca, with the consent of all her people. Geran-Eras’s Humfra-Dar was in the dry dock, with work already begun.
