TF Maaka-Kakja should arrive in plenty of time to prevent a disaster. Still, he worried. He didn’t know these “Doms” and had no “feel” for them. All he knew came from Chack’s and Captain Reddy’s reports. The new enemy appeared almost as insensitive to losses as the Grik, but they were human and had to be more tactically flexible. Didn’t they? Even though it failed, the plan to seize the Empire had been bold and cunning, and strategically, came far too close to success. He felt he needed to be working on a plan of his own, but the only “maps” they had of New Ireland were rough sketches Jenks had left. Surely better ones would be available when they stopped at Respite Island? He brooded.
Sandra, Captain Lelaa, and Colonel Shinya were all jarred from their respective thoughts when Diania suddenly burst upon the bridgewing, gasping for air. The dark-skinned woman sketched a hasty imitation of salutes she’d seen, and, eyes wide, breathlessly proclaimed, “Beggin’ yer pardons, but there’s a daemon in the for’ard hold!”
Rendered speechless by the sudden, distracting news, Sandra noticed a disturbance down on the flight deck and saw a group of ’Cats assembling around a tall, blond-headed figure with a shiny new eye patch. The man bowed occasionally to those around him as he strode toward the offset conn tower, or patted them on their heads. He was looking up at Sandra with that weird, distinctive grin.
Sandra’s eyes narrowed. They’d learned that Silva had somehow escaped the “Buzzard,” but no one had any idea where he was. “I believe you, Diania,” she said angrily, “but the ‘demon’ is on the loose now.”
“I ain’t AWOL,” Silva denied, “I been here all along-not ‘absent’ a’tall!” He was standing in Captain Lelaa’s “great cabin,” surrounded by a collection of humans and ’Cats. He’d never get a more sympathetic hearing since nearly everyone present owed him their lives, but this was a serious matter. Despite his plea, he was inarguably absent without leave, and in direct violation of orders. In contrast to the last time they’d seen him, covered with grease, he was actually fairly presentable. Some, such as Lawrence and Princess Rebecca-and, Petey, her weird little pet-were openly gleeful to see him, as was Midshipman Brassey. Irvin and Shinya appeared less pleased.
Sandra couldn’t tell what Lelaa or the other Lemurian officers thought, and she groaned. When it came to rationalization, Dennis Silva was an artist, and judging by his opening shot, this was liable to be a masterpiece. What was more, she knew Lemurians were susceptible to the type of “performance art” Dennis excelled at. Ultimately, Silva’s punishment would be decided by Captain Lelaa, but Sandra felt compelled to play the role of the “reporting officer.”
“Mr. Silva, as I’m sure you’re aware, ‘here’ isnt where you’re supposed to be!” Sandra said severely. “And you’re ‘AWOL’ from where you were ordered to go!”
Dennis affected an expression of concentration. “An’ I’ve given that a lot of thought since Mr. Riggs passed them silly orders,” he admitted. “Has anybody ever seen fit to in-vestigate whether he’s a Jap… or even a Grik spy?”
“My God, Silva!” Laumer burst out. “Are you insane?”
Brassey and Princess Rebecca stifled chuckles, and most of the ’Cats’ tails twitched with amusement.
“It’s possible,” Silva confessed, “but you know, that scamp never liked me much ever since…” He paused. “Well, it ain’t pertinent, an’ I won’t refloat bygones if he won’t. But think about it; my original orders, spoke right at me by the Skipper himself, was to guard the Munchkin Princess to the death. After our recent… situation with the Comp’ny, I’m pretty sure them orders oozed over onto you, Lieutenant Tucker. You need me. Maybe Bernie thinks he does, back in Baalkpan, but I can wire any screwball schemes I come up with back to him from here, but I can’t protect you ladies nor help the Skipper from there. That’s what got me wonderin’ about Mr. Riggs; such a blatant misallocation o’ resources-me-in time o’ war, can only benefit the enemies o’ freedom, baseball, an’ beer.”
The ’Cats roared and stomped their feet. Even Captain Lelaa grinned. Irvin covered his eyes with his hand and even Shinya stared hard at something else in the compartment. Sandra glared at Lelaa. As the senior naval officer, she should’ve at least tried to keep a straight face. Sandra realized she should have let Laumer do the grilling, but while now a genuine hero, the submariner and current exec of Maaka-Kakja, was still a little in awe of Silva-and most of the “original” human members of the Alliance. He had a tendency to overcompensate for that, and Sandra hadn’t known if he’d be too harsh or too lenient on Dennis. When the tumult died away, she persisted.
“Mr. Riggs is not a Jap-or Grik-spy! He’s acting chief of staff to the most powerful figure in the Alliance. You can’t pick and choose which of his orders to obey!”
“I can when they come over the wireless! Shoot, they might’ve been fake! Captain Reddy’s orders came face-to-face, an’ his orders trump Riggs any day. Always follow the last, highest-up orders you get; that’s my motto!”
“But… Captain Reddy confirmed the orders!” Sandra said adamantly. Silva was already shaking his head.
“Over wireless. Which he’s too busy to go over every little housekeep-in’ chore in the Alliance, an’ old ‘Gap Sparks’ Palmer probably gapped it up.” He shrugged. “Wire the Skipper again, get him to personally ex-voke his standin’ orders to me, an’ I’ll go to Baalkpan, meek as a sheep.”
“You know, he’s probably right about the confirmation,” Shinya said, surprising everyone. “A ream of routine requests was sent to Walker, once the relay was in place and communications were reestablished. All were granted.”
Sandra looked at Shinya, as startled as the others. She rounded back on Silva. “How long did it take you to figure all this out?” she demanded. “If you’d pulled this before the ‘Buzzard’ left Manila, you might’ve gotten away with it.” She paused. “Come to that, how did you get back to Manila in time to sail with us? We all saw you get on the plane!”
“Dee-vine providencilva exclaimed piously, casting his one eye to the overhead. “You personally ordered me on the plane, an’ I got on. Wouldn’t never disobey a direct, face-to-face order. Beyond that?” He shrugged and his twisted grin spread. “I’ve always been mortally fearful o’ flyin’. I guess, combined with that an’ all the other things I had to say, I must’a been miracled aboard!”
“Only to be discovered once it’s too late to fly you back to Maa-ni-la, and Walker has steamed beyond wireless reach yet again,” Shinya observed dryly.
“Is that so?” Silva asked innocently. He glanced at Diania, standing away from Lelaa’s “wardroom table,” ready to refill Sandra’s water cup if asked. The small woman was staring at him with barely restrained fury. “I do apologize for startlin’ your girl there, by the way,” he said. “I was whoopin’ some empty grain sacks off me when all of a sudden, there she was! Scared me half to death!”
There were chuckles, and Diania’s dark face darkened further.
Lelaa cleared her throat. “Regardless of Walker ’s position, this task force is currently steaming under blacked? Blanketed… communications to prevent discovery by the mysterious Jaap destroyer, the whereabouts of which is still unknown… but perhaps you considered that as well?” she pondered aloud, contemplating the big man looming before her. She shook her head, blinking. “Until Captain Reddy can be consulted, to resolve this matter, Mr. Silva will cease berthing in the forward hold, and will be entered as a chief gunner’s mate in the ship’s rolls.” She looked hard at Dennis. “Work with the gun’s crews; they’re all ‘green,’ I think you say? Behave yourself, or you’ll be returned to the hold-in irons!”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n Lelaa!” Silva said. “Gunnery’ll be up to snuff directly!”
Lelaa paced the offset bridge, surveying her domain. “Tex” Sheider had the watch, and she was free to simply enjoy her ship, and honestly, her position. It hadn’t been that long since the biggest thing she’d commanded was a medium-size fishing felucca. It had been her Home, her life. When the war came, she’d been given a razeed Grik prize, a Navy “corvette,” or “DE.” She’d loved USS Simms, but when she was destroyed by Billingsley, and Lelaa herself joined Sandra and the others in captivity, she’d never expected to command anything again, even if she survived. She certainly hadn’t expected to command something like Maaka-Kakja, the largest, most powerful, and advanced vessel likely ever built on this entire world. She loved it.
On the bridge, she was surrounded by an assortment of devices she’d once have considered miraculous or magical, and was amazed that she’d almost begun to take them for granted. What was more, she understood them, and People, Mi-Anaaka, operated them with growing precision and practiced ease despite their inexperience compared to other “carrier” crews. Much of that was due to Maaka-Kakja ’s veteran teachers. The still-weak Orrin Reddy was doing his best to help organize the air wing, and though he wasn’t very communicative, Gilbert Yeager taught engineering by example extremely well. Now I have Dennis Silva, Lelaa thought somewhat smugly, to shape my gun’s crews. Things couldn’t be much better from her perspective.
