FROM COMMODORE SOR-LOMAAK COMMANDING FDFS (FIL-PIN DEFENSE FORCE
Matt looked up. “I really don’t know this Sor-Lomaak,” he admitted. “I assume Saan-Kakja does, and trusts him. Salaama-na ’s a Fil-pin-built Home…” He looked back at the next part, then read it aloud for Jenks’s benefit.
(4) DAYS X PLEASE PROVIDE PILOT AND ESCORT X REMAINDER OF SQUADRON
“That is good news!” Jenks exclaimed. “How very excellent! I had despaired of Ulysses! I should be glad to send Icarus to pilot your other ships in!” He paused, wearing an anxious smile. “I must say, I’m fairly bursting to view this ‘new’ Simms! She was named for Captain Lelaa’s ship, was she not? The first steam frigate out of the Fil- pin yards! I’ll warrant she’s a beauty!”
“Thanks,” Matt said, reading further. “I’m sure she is.” His expression had changed. “ Icarus will be much appreciated,” he murmured, then he began to read aloud again. The next part seemed to have been composed in a hurry.
ADDENDUMM X A MAJOR REPEAT MAJR VOLCAANIC EVENT OBSRVED SSE
“Good God!” Jenks exclaimed, stunned.
“Yes, sir,” Gray agreed somberly. “God help ’em.”
“Commodore Jenks, please arrange a meeting with Governor Radcliff,” Matt said woodenly. “We have a few things left to sort out before we take off, and the date for that’s finally near. If our replenishment vessels arrive in four days, I want to be underway in six.” He shook the note in his hand and looked at the men around him. “We’re running out of time, gentlemen, I feel it. We may not be trying to refloat a submarine on top of a volcano, but events might still overwhelm us while we sit here goofing off. Before much longer, Billingsley’ll be arriving in Imperial waters. It stands to reason that with the princess captive, whatever scheme the Company’s cooking up will likely hatch shortly after that.” He looked at Jenks. “I’m sorry, Commodore, I wish you could be with us, but we’re going to have to sprint for it. Fine a ship as Achilles is, she just can’t keep up when Walker stretches her legs.”
Jenks nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “Very well, Captain Reddy,” he said and sighed, looking out at his ship in the harbor. “I will arrange the meeting, but if you mean to move that swiftly-something I cannot debate, since I too feel a growing sense of urgency-I must leave my ship in the hands of Lieutenant Grimsley and accompany you. Walker might be able to sink half the Imperial Fleet, but she can’t sink New Britain. You simply can’t stand offshore and demand all Company officials be marched down and hanged at execution dock.” He chuckled grimly. “Again, it is amply demonstrated that neither of us can succeed alone. I can’t get there in time without you, and once there, you can’t accomplish anything without me.” He paused. “No offense meant, and I don’t mean to boast, but I do think I can secure the aid of the one other person who might be in a position to help us.” In response to Matt’s blank stare, he shrugged and elaborated. “The Governor-Emperor, of course. You see, despite everything, the Governor-Emperor and I are… well acquainted. He will see me if we make our presence known, and he will believe me about his child.”
The “Governor’s Palace” was an impressive edifice. It wasn’t the biggest independent dwelling on Respite- that title belonged to the Company Director’s Mansion-but completely enclosed within the formidable harbor defenses they’d seen from sea, it was the most secure and commanded the preeminent view. The structure itself was the most “familiar” Matt had yet seen on this world, in terms of architecture. It looked much like the homes dedicated to the commanding officers of any number of American military facilities back in the States and abroad. It was large, airy, comfortable, and tastefully decorated. The elevation and an unopposed breeze from almost any direction provided Matt with a tantalizing, nostalgic hint of an early fall day on the coast. Except for the plastered limestone columns supporting the seaward-facing porch roof on the ground floor, there was little ostentation. The porch also overlooked a rather radically sloping “parade ground” surrounding a flagpole resembling a topmast and ending with a line of officers’ barracks just short of the defensive wall. The grade was such that one could sit on the porch and see the harbor and the vast sea beyond with a view unobstructed by anything but the Imperial flag. It was breathtaking.
Matt and his companions stepped down from the donkey-drawn “land barge” with spoked, wooden wheels that had carried them up the impressive slope like a San Francisco streetcar. The conveyance had pleasantly surprised Matt the first time he rode it to the palace. It was a simple affair, built with a single back and two outward-facing benches. Even with six admirably teamed and amazingly dedicated donkeys pulling it, it moved at a ponderous pace, but though unsprung, it was surprisingly comfortable. On that first visit, he’d expected to have to hoof it all the way to the Governor’s Palace dressed in his deteriorating best or, worse perhaps, ride one of the ridiculous donkeys. Either eventuality might have caused an international incident. Juan Marcos had performed miracles maintaining Matt’s original “Mess Dress,” and the sweaty damage of such a trek might have driven him to fire on the palace with one of Walker ’s guns. Since then, he’d enjoyed riding the land barge several times during its winding, scenic, relaxing ascent. Sitting on it, calm and still, was a little more difficult when it came down the hill, though.
Matt, Gray, Bradford, Spanky, and Chack were received at the fortress gate by an Imperial Marine, who saluted and politely escorted them across the stubbly parade ground and the palace lawn to the porch. Commodore Jenks, O’Casey, and Achilles Marine Lieutenant Blair were already seated upon colorfully cushioned wooden chairs, attending Governor Radcliff, his adjutant, the Respite militia colonel, and several diaphanously dressed ladies. Drawing closer, Matt recognized the governor’s wife and three daughters. The wife, Emelia, was a short, round, but surprisingly attractive woman who habitually wore the amused expression of one who observed but wouldn’t stoop to dabble in the affairs of men. The daughters shared the attractiveness of their mother in younger, slimmer forms, visible in the breeze despite the shapeless clothing. They shared a trace of her “look” as well. In Imperial society,
