moderate seas into the rising sun. Commodore Harvey Jenks stood on the starboard bridgewing, enraptured by the seemingly effortless sense of motion. His hat was held tightly under his arm and his hair whipped in the breeze. The pitching, streaming bow tossed occasional packets of spray in his face as it sliced the marching swells, and he laughed like a kid, with closed eyes and a drooping, dripping mustache. O’Casey was beside him, crowding the lookout, and despite having experienced it before, he seemed to be enjoying it just as much as Jenks. Their immediate past had been put far behind them and the two men had apparently resuscitated their old friendship to a degree at least as strong as ever.
Lieutenant Blair of the Imperial Marines was the only other Imperial officer aboard, but he’d brought a small detachment of his men from Achilles and was currently drilling them alongside Chack’s Marines, aft. He was a bright officer, and he’d learned a hard lesson in warfare at Singapore. He’d also become a fervent convert to Allied infantry tactics-particularly now that he understood and respected them. He even made valuable tactical suggestions, regarding the addition of muskets to the shield wall, that Chack was perfectly willing to test. Later that day, they planned to “shoot at shields” again. Apparently Chack and Blair both thought they’d figured “something” out.
“Skipper on the bridge!” came Fal-(Stumpy)-Pel’s high-pitched cry.
“As you were,” replied Matt, and Jenks and O’Casey stepped into the pilothouse to see an amused Captain Reddy, towing a beaming Courtney Bradford in his wake. “It looks like you’re enjoying yourselves, gentlemen,” Matt said, taking in their semi-soaked appearance.
“Captain Reddy,” Jenks practically gushed, “before now I could only imagine what it must be like, but now I’m utterly smitten, sir!”
Gray stomped up from below, pushing Bradford forward. He’d heard the exchange. “This is twenty knots,” he growled proudly. “If the sea was a little calmer and we had the fuel to throw away, we’d show you thirty!” He leered at Jenks’s expression of wonder. “Once upon a time, she’d crowd forty! Might still can, when we get a fourth boiler back in her.”
“Lord above, to experience that!” Jenks muttered.
Matt’s grin spread. No skipper is immune to compliments about his ship. “I don’t know about that, Boats,” he demurred, “but if any crew could coax it out of her, this one could.” He chuckled. “Spanky’s been running around like a mother hen, checking every little thing. Him and Miami. I think now that Tabby’s finally back on limited duty, he might take a breath.” He shook his head, looking at the Bosun. “I tried to leave her behind, you know. Send her home on one of the supply ships after it shows up and offloads. She’s still got a lot of lung damage. Spanky actually insisted on it. Told her she could rejoin her pals-the ‘other’ Mice-when she was fit.” He looked proudly back at Jenks. “She said she’d quit the Navy if we left her behind! Wouldn’t fight, wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t teach a soul a thing she knew! I thought Spanky was done for. His face was so red, I started to call Selass!”
Gray laughed.
“You have quite a crew, Captain Reddy,” Jenks said, complimenting him.
“Yes, I do.” Matt’s grin faded. “Now, what you and I have to do, over the next week or so before we reach your home, is figure out how best to accomplish our mission without anybody-particularly this crew and the people we’re trying to rescue-getting hurt. Obviously, I want to do that while making sure some other deserving people do get hurt.” He glanced at Norm Kutas, who still had the conn. “Carry on, Quartermaster.” To the talker: “Please pass the word for Captain Chack, Lieutenant Blair, Misters Steele, Campeti, Reynolds, and McFarlane to join us in the wardroom.” He looked back at Jenks and O’Casey. “Gentlemen?”
“I don’t really know what more I can add,” Jenks said, sipping hot tea from a cup. Spread out on the green- topped table between them was a chart showing the four main, or “Home,” islands of the Imperial heart. Matt had seen it before, but in the past Jenks had always covered the coordinates to salve his conscience, since it was treason to reveal the location of the islands. For a long time now it was understood that Matt knew precisely where they were, and under the circumstances, such fictions no longer existed between them. Jenks would doubtless be called a traitor by the Company when his story was told, but he considered the Company-and the Dominion-a far graver threat to the Empire than the Grand Alliance was.
Courtney leaned forward for a closer look at the map. Most of those present also knew where the Imperial capital was, by deductive reasoning, but this was their first “look” at it. Matt had been right when he told them it wasn’t the “Hawaii” they remembered. The island shapes were tantalizingly familiar, but bigger, and in some cases joined. Lower global water levels-which Courtney had long suspected-and random volcanism probably explained that.
“We’ve been gone an awfully long time,” Jenks continued, “and I know little more than you what conditions may prevail within the Empire. We might even receive an unfriendly welcome. As I said before, that would be almost certain if I were not with you, but if the GovernorEmperor has been deposed, God forbid, I doubt my welcome will be warmer than yours.”
“You, O’Casey, and the princess have all hinted you’re a ‘big wheel’ in the Empire,” Matt observed. “I suppose your sympathies are well known.”
“Indeed. I’m known as a staunch Loyalist, as are most Imperial officers.”
Mat grunted. “Hmm. Well, speculation is almost pointless,” he said. “If you don’t have any pals left in government at all, we’ll have to wing it anyway. Let’s assume the situation remains essentially the same as when you left, probably a little tenser, of course, judging by what Governor Radcliff had to say. His was the most recent news. How do we proceed in that ‘best-case’ scenario?”
“We must assume Billingsley will have beaten us there,” Bradford interjected, brooding. “We should know that quickly enough, shouldn’t we?”
“I’m certain of it,” Jenks replied. “That we would know,” he amended. “There is frequent, rapid commerce between the Imperial Home Islands, and almost no clandestine anchorage. Ajax ’s arrival would be recognized, reported, and known across the islands within days. If her crew is paid off, rumors of the princess would spread immediately. They might keep the crew sequestered, pleading sickness, but that would be widely known as well. If she’s there, we’ll know. Beyond that, much depends on what Billingsley and his superiors hope to gain, and what their timetable might be. If the princess has become their ultimate weapon against the throne, I think they would act quite quickly. Remember, they had no more certainty that she’d survived than I did, so I have no doubt they’ve continued their long-term scheme of subversion in our absence. With the princess in hand, I believe they would be overwhelmingly tempted to act precipitously, to ‘wing it,’ as you said, themselves. The Company and their creatures in the courts are known to take the long view of things, but they are also impetuous and grasping. In the past, the best check we’ve had against them in government has been their tendency to overreach and bleed support when the people see their true agenda.”
“So, if they have indeed won the race, we may find opportunity in the midst of a chaotic upheaval,” Courtney mused aloud.
“Possibly, but it could be messy.”
“Best case?” Matt asked again.
“Well, obviously, the best thing that could happen is that we get there before Billingsley, tell our story, and wait for him to arrive.” Jenks looked serious. “Tempting as it would be, I must caution against trying to stop him at this stage. Better to let him think he’s won. If we sight Ajax, we should steer clear. If he fears he will be foiled, his only recourse might be to ‘eliminate’ any evidence against him.”
“Agreed,” Matt said reluctantly. He paused. “What do you consider the worst-case scenario?” he asked at last.
Jenks shifted on his chair. “Well, certainly, objectively, the worst possible thing that might happen is that Billingsley never shows up at all. Not only would that imply that his ship is lost with all aboard-with the attendant grief for all concerned-but it would substantially undermine our testimony. At least until Achilles, Icarus, and Ulysses arrive. Unfortunately, at that point we will of necessity be ashore and we, as well as the Empire, might not live to see it happen.” He looked at Matt. “One of the reasons the Company has survived so long to contend with an entity as powerful as the Imperial throne is that it can be… remarkably resourceful and ruthless. Our arrival will threaten its position because some will believe us. That alone might precipitate action on their part. One way or another, whether Billingsley has beaten us or not, when Walker steams into Imperial waters, the… ah, how do you say? Yes. The ‘shit will hit the fan.’ ”
“Pardon me,” Chack interrupted. “Viewing this map from a military perspective, I see a number of anchorages, particularly on this New Scot-laand. I see no ‘Pearl Harbor,’ however. Assuming the names are
