As the sun faded aft, quickly plunging the sea into darkness, she blinked her trust at Tex and stepped out on the starboard bridgewing. The oilers were out there, churning doggedly alongside through the calming sea as the wind continued to lay. They were venturing more canvas now, to ease the burden on their engines and bunkers, and the sails flashed from purple-gold to gray. Soon, darkened as they were, the ships would be invisible to all but Lemurian eyes, and she welcomed the cover of night. Danger lurked in the darkness; even her people’s vision had its limits. Sleeping, wallowing mountain fish, with their blue-black bodies, could become virtually invisible against the black sea and sky. But oddly, the massive beasts appeared to actually avoid Maaka-Kakja -a courtesy they didn’t always extend even to her huge sailing cousins. Tex proposed that Maaka-Kakja ’s size, combined with her massive pounding screw and-to the sound-sensitive behemoths-thunderous, machinery noises, might actually frighten them. Lelaa didn’t know, but the oilers had orders to stay as close to her as they dared. So far, it was well.
What concerned her more, and made her prefer the uncertain night, was the rogue Japanese destroyer and its reputedly incredibly malevolent “Long Lance” torpedoes. She’d never seen torpedoes before, even though she knew Walker and Mahan had carried the things. One still existed in Baalkpan, a damaged “condemned” specimen from the other world, but she hadn’t been to see it. Someone had said there should be a few aboard Amagi ’s dwindling corpse, but she didn’t know if they’d been recovered. Bernie Sandison made no secret of his efforts to make some and Captain Reddy would love to have them, but in truth, they terrified Lelaa. She hated the very idea of torpedoes. She’d been wholly convinced by the Jaap Okada, that mighty as Maaka-Kakja was, she had no defense against them. She suspected the rogue destroyer was far away, but if by chance it wasn’t, Lelaa-Tal-Cleraan embraced the darkness that might protect her ship-her new Home-from the puny vision of any bad hu-maans lurking nearby… and their torpedoes.
Strange music reached her ears from two decks below, from the vestigial “battlement” where Maaka-Kakja ’s 5.5-inch guns were situated around her “island.” The battlement provided a high, unobstructed gun platform, and plenty of space for defenders too. It sometimes served as a social gathering place for off-duty crew away from the hot engineering spaces and hazards of the flight and hangar decks. The amusements there could sometimes distract those on duty, but over time, that concern ebbed away. Those on watch were allowed to listen, but woe was he or she caught watching. Few ever were. This was their Home too, and just as wing runners or watchers remained vigilant during amusements on the sailing Homes, they did the same on Maaka-Kakja. Lelaa wasn’t officially on duty now, so she listened-and watched.
The instruments she heard were familiar; bows with tight strings and resonance chambers. “Laaukas,” mostly. Many Mi-Anaaka knew how to play them, and they were compact and portable. The tune was unfamiliar, though… if it could be called a tune. It had the jaunty, repetitive air reminiscent of “Amer-i-caan” songs she’d heard, but the players were obviously learning it as they went, while a familiar voice hummed the melody. Suddenly, the voice broke into song.
“Ooooh! Cat-monkeys got long tails on Zambo-anga!
“’Cause Zamboanga ain’t Zamboanga anymorrr!”
Lelaa recognized Silva’s deep voice, but realized Orrin Reddy was singing along, squinting at a piece of paper in his hand. The Imperial midshipman, Stewart Brassey, was trying to play a laauka.
“An’ the whales didn’t get ’em, ’cause the whales would be chikkin,
To face things I have seen here, that’s for sure!”
It was nonsense, but Lelaa chuckled in her throaty way. She’d tried to be strict with Silva that day, but didn’t think she’d succeeded. She couldn’t help it. She hated the big ridiculous brute. .. and adored him. He’d saved her life and avenged Simms, and done so many other things, but as Sandra said, he was depraved. Whatever else he’d done to get aboard Maaka-Kakja, he’d abandoned Paam Cross, a female who was devoted to him, for some reason. And even Lelaa occasionally speculated what exactly there was between him and Risa-Sab-At… But the song amused her. She didn’t know what a “chikkin” was, but “whales” were something like mountain fish… she thought.
Oh, we won’t go back to Subic anymore,
Oh, we won’t go back to Subic anymore!
Oh, we won’t go back to Subic, we drink seep instead of tubic!
Oh, we won’t go back to Subic anymore!
Orrin had harmonized quite nicely with Silva on that verse. Lelaa liked songs with harmony. She could see the growing musical throng much better than Orrin could see his page, and noticed Gilbert Yeager standing off to the side. He’d attempted some of those last words, and she was stunned to see tears streaking his face. She didn’t understand. The song sounded like others she’d heard hu-maans sing with mirth.
Oooh! The birdies ain’t real birdies in Maa-ni-la!
Instead of feathers-they have teeth and fur!
Some are green and blue, and they eat each other too!
… an’ I can’t make up nothin’ that rhymes with furrr!
Those in the crowd laughed and stamped their feet, but Gilbert was gone.
Oooh, we lived ten thousand years in old Chefoo,
The Japs got it, and then Caveetee too!
I wouldn’t give a fart for a piece of either part,
But I’ll make ’em rot in hell before I’m throooo!
Lelaa realized Colonel Shinya was beside her in the dark. “You are a ‘Jaap,’ as they say, yes?”
“Yes.”
“You had a war, on your world. Do Amer-i-caans really hate you that much?” She paused. “Does Silva?”
Shinya hesitated. “Some do, even here. Even now. There was… unpleasantness. I never witnessed anything like what Commander Okada saw, perpetrated by either side, but ‘my’ war with the Americans was different… earlier. I cannot say how things would have gone had the war continued as it was when I… left it, but it was ugly enough already. And there were rumors of things happening in China. If the tide truly has turned as Okada says, it’s possible things have become as ugly as they are here.” He sighed. “But I don’t think Silva hates me, not anymore.” Unconsciously, he blinked irony in the Lemurian way. “We’re on the same side now, are we not?”
“His song might leave some doubt, and he sings it to my People.” Lelaa shook her head. “I am ‘Amer-i-caan’ now, in the Na-vee clan, but I don’t hate Jaaps. I hope my people don’t come to.”
“American songs are almost meaningless,” he assured her. “This one more than most.”
Lelaa looked at Shinya. “Okada must stop the rogue destrer, or you may end up mistaken.”
CHAPTER 11
Southeast Coast of Africa
I t was blustery, wet, and very cold. Lieutenant Toryu Miyata stood forlornly on the soggy sand with his two companions, Aguri and Umito. Wrapped in damp fur coats, they were watching the Grik longboat struggle back through the heavy breakers they’d just barely-in Toryu’s view-survived. He’d longed to escape the Grik, and the mission he’d embarked upon had seemed a good opportunity at the time, but the journey so far had been a hellish experience. And it had only begun.
The “Cape of Storms” on this world had apparently earned its name for the same reason as the one “back home.” Not only was it so designated on the ancient, stolen charts, but the storms were even more intense and constant. The Grik didn’t believe any ship could round the cape, or even steer too close, and the world beyond was unknown to them. Toryu supposed that was one good thing. The only charts they’d captured intact from the long- dead British Indiamen showed only the coast of Africa and Madagascar. The Grik had been forced to earn their knowledge of other places.
Because of that, the transport that brought his little expedition had set them ashore far short of their destination. They’d have to trek overland across unknown and probably hostile country long before they could deliver General of the Sea Kurokawa’s note to the strangers of this land. The Grik had a few frontier outposts to the north, and the “others” apparently maintained their own to the southwest. Toryu would have to cross the “no- man’s-land” between them-and he hadn’t even escaped the Grik. There were six Uul warriors along, and a low-level Hij-probably a lieutenant or something-named Bashg. He was to command them, interpret General Esshk’s orders,
