“Through the noble efforts of General Aal-den and myself,” Rolak began, “as well as the superfluous presence of a pair of youngling Marines, we have gained a most useful asset for the Alliance! We will soon know everything there is to know about Saa-lon in particular, and the Grik in general.” His tone lost its humor. “I expect we will learn more about our enemy, at last, than we can bear to know after a meal.” He gestured to a pair of Marines, and together with Risa, they entered one of the inner chambers of the admiral’s quarters. A moment later, they returned with a living Grik! Some of those present had been expecting this, but most hadn’t known and there were a few gasps and growls.
“May I present my new pet, and special advisor on Grik affairs!” Rolak said with a flourish. “Hij-Geerki!”
With rapid, nervous glances around the room, the old but still ferocious-looking creature hesitantly bowed.
CHAPTER 16
North of Tjilatjap (Chill-chaap)
G ilbert Yeager leaned over the rail, staring down at the water and the bubbles gushing up from below. He was chewing some of the yellow tobacco leaves, and occasionally he’d spit in the tumbling, gurgling water. Laney was down there in a hardhat and diving suit, welding Santa Catalina ’s open seams. The obnoxious bastard had guts; there was no doubting that. He was still an asshole, though, and it was fun to spit “on” him. Lieutenant “Mikey” Monk stood next to Gilbert, also looking down, as did a squad of musketarmed Marines. Apparently there were no flashies in the swamp, something they’d speculated on before, based on the less salty water and the “frog folks,” who couldn’t prosper here if flasher fish were around. Even if none of the voracious silvery fish were present, there were doubtless other things-and the frog folks themselves, of course. Ever since the “Battle for Santa Catalina,” however, the slippery, sticky-tongued devils had left the salvage party alone. Chapelle wasn’t sure how to take that. He was glad, no question, but he hadn’t expected them to give up so easily. That indicated a level of intelligence beyond the Uul class of Grik at any rate. They’d taken a lot of casualties, sure, but there were a lot of them. Every night they surrounded the ship, croaking, thrumming, and chirping at one another, and the lights reflected hundreds of glowing eyes. Even now, in the light of day, eyes could be seen, barely above the water, peering at them like little crocodiles-or big frogs. They kept their distance, and the Marines were ready to shoot any that ventured too close to Laney, but after the previous violent encounter, they now seemed completely content just to stare.
“You got some more of that tobacco?” Mikey asked.
“Sure,” Gilbert said, fishing a pouch out of his shirt pocket. He handed it over. “Didn’t know you chewed.”
“I didn’t,” Monk confessed. “Got to now, until we figure out some way to smoke this stuff.” The “local” tobacco, a product of the environs of Aryaal, tasted like real tobacco and probably was, of a sort. The problem was, the leaves were coated in some kind of vile, waxy, resiny stuff that made people who tried to smoke it violently ill. It tasted terrible too, until one chewed through the coating and spit it out.
“Me an’ Isak been workin’ on that,” Gilbert confessed quietly, looking around to make sure no one else heard. When they finally made their momentous breakthrough, they intended to keep the process secret and corner the market on “smokin’ tobacco.” It was common knowledge that the Mice had been experimenting, but there’d been no progress announced.
“Getting any closer?”
“Well, no,” Gilbert admitted. “But we rule stuff out with every failure.”
“Hmm. Say, where’s Isak anyway?”
Gilbert gestured down. “He’s in the aft hold, watchin’ Laney work from the other side. There was a couple of places where the plates were buckled out a little and him and a bunch o’ ’Cats are pryin’ ’em back in place. Last time Laney was up, he said one more plate should finish the patch.”
Monk nodded. “Yep. One more plate and we should be able to pump out the hold. I just hope that’ll float her. It’s mighty shallow water hereabouts.”
“Yeah,” Gilbert agreed. “The engine should work. All the steam lines is fixed and most were tight to start with. This old tub’s crew was nice to her… once. Course, we can’t test the engine ’til the screw’s clear of the bottom, but like I said, it should work.”
“Then it’ll just be a matter of steamin’ this old bucket outta this creepy place,” Monk said.
“Hopefully. Providin’ the water’s deep enough. Might have to lighten ship and take her out at high tide. Hell, them fellas got her in here somehow, didn’t they?”
Monk pulled a small wad of leaves from Gilbert’s pouch and stuck them in his cheek, grimaced, then handed the pouch back while he vigorously chewed to get past the initial foul taste. Gilbert grinned and aimed another splurt of tobacco juice at Laney’s bubbles.
“You don’t like Laney much, do you?” Monk asked, nodding at the water.
“No. Does anybody? ”
Lieutenant Monk snorted. “Well, come to that, I guess not. Must get lonesome.”
“Laney?” Gilbert asked incredulously. “He wants everybody to hate him. He likes it.”
Monk didn’t point out that Gilbert and Isak both acted like they didn’t give much of a damn about anybody either, except Tabby. They’d finally established communications with one of the portable transmitter /receivers, a generator, and the ship’s own wireless antennae array. The first news they’d heard was about the victory at Rangoon-and the storm trouble Walker had encountered. Included was a list of her dead and injured. Tabby’s bravery had been mentioned, but so had her condition. Monk knew Gilbert and Isak would never show it, but they were both worried about the absent member of their strange little tribe.
“Do you hate him?” Monk asked.
Gilbert looked surprised. “Only when he’s around. Otherwise, I don’t think about him one way or another. An’ it ain’t like I’d go over there an’ stand on his air hose or nothin’. Now, if somethin’ swum up an’ ate his sorry ass…” He paused, thoughtful. “Ya know, I guess it’ud be a shame, sorta,” he admitted. “Not ’cause I like him or anything, but there ain’t many of us ‘born’ destroyermen left, after all. Less than a hunnerd, from two ships now, not countin’ them pig-boat pukes. ’Cats are swell, but they’re, well… new. ’Sides, if Laney got ate, who’d put on that brass hat an’ jump in the water? You’d probably make me do it an’ I don’t even know how!” He spat again. “Naw, Laney’s a turd, but he ain’t a useless turd. That’s somethin’, I guess. Biggest problem I got with him now is that just ’cause he used to be in charge o’ me an’ Isak, he thinks he still is.”
“I’ll fix that,” Monk promised.
“Yeah? How? He thinks he’s still in charge o’ you too.”
Isak was back on deck with the others when they hoisted Laney out of the water, and he, Gilbert, Sammy, and Monk helped him over the rail of the low-sided basket he’d been standing in and onto the ship. Monk undogged the helmet and he and Isak twisted it off.
“Chop the compressor,” Monk called.
“Shit,” Laney proclaimed when the stuttering drone subsided. “Somebody gimme a drink and a chew!” They eased him down on a bench they’d positioned near the ship’s rail, and he sprawled on it while they helped him out of the suit.
“Did you finish?” Chapelle asked, offering a canteen.
“Best I could,” Laney gasped after a long swig. “Water’s murky as hell and the hull’s covered with weed. Had to do a lot of scrapin’. No barnacles, though. Maybe the water killed ’em? Between that, the bubbles, the fire, an’ all them creepy toad lizards gawkin’ at me all the time…” He seemed to shiver involuntarily.
“You actually saw them?”
“ Saw ’em! Hell, them slimy devils was on the basket with me before I was done! Didn’t you hear me bangin’ on the hull plates?”
“I did,” Isak confessed. “Wondered why you was doin’ that.”
Laney glared at Isak, then at the Marines gathered near. “Fine lot of good any o’ you did! They could’a been gnawin’ my bones right now, and you’d all still be standin’ here starin’ at the water wonderin’ how much longer I’d
