“Bekiaa!” Saraan hissed, but Alden scratched his beard and chuckled.
“Good point, Captain.” He groaned and looked at Colonel Flynn. “Make your pitch, Billy,” he said.
The former submariner with the strange red mustache and chin whiskers grinned. “Well, it just so happens that the ‘First Amalgamated Regiment’ is a company short, and if I don’t put one together, General Alden has threatened to snatch away the allocated rifled muskets and dole ’em out to a bunch of other fellas. That’ll dilute their effectiveness, since the Lord knows where they’ll wind up.”
“Rifled muskets?” Bekiaa asked, confused.
“I know of these!” Saraan interjected. “They load like the muskets the Marines already have, but they are far more accurate. They spin the bullets like the”-he looked apologetically at Keje-“ ‘Holy’ ’03 Springfields and Kraags the first Amer-i-caans brought!”
Keje grinned. “Do not be concerned. I will not denounce you as a heretic,” he said. “I wouldn’t, anyway; our Alliance is full of them now. And besides, Gen-er-aal Aal-den has convinced me that those first Springfields and Kraags could at least commune with the Maker, since their bullets must be divinely guided!”
“Oh-threes are holy… to me,” Pete grumped, fingering the sling of the one he always carried. The weapon was somewhat battered now, but no one doubted it was clean-and capable of miracles in his hands.
“How many for a company?” Saraan asked, almost greedily.
“At least a hundred,” Flynn said, glancing at Keje, “But maybe you fall in the same category as those other distinguished naval officers?”
Keje grunted. “Certainly. Commander Saraan-Gaani is a valuable naval resource… but he’s also known and trusted by these people here.” He glanced around at the curious faces that had gathered around them. “He has proven himself, according to Cap-i-taan Cha-pelle, and if he desires it, he may command this ‘Dee’ company you wish to form.”
“Of course I desire it!” Saraan said. “Particularly if Cap-i-taan Bekiaa should second me!”
“It’s settled then,” Alden said, with the air of someone who’d solved a nagging problem. “If you can rake up the volunteers,” he added, noticing the crowd around them growing even more as word began to spread. There’d be some who’d had enough, he knew, but Saraan would likely have more trouble keeping the number down than raking it up. He looked at Bekiaa. “The First Amalgamated isn’t a Marine regiment,” he said, “but you and yours’ll still be Marines regardless, if you want in.”
“I do,” she replied, with a glance at Saraan, “as long as I’m still a Marine, and I keep my uniform.”
Flynn laughed. “The Amalgamated wears many ‘uniforms.’ ” He looked at Alden. “I personally prefer the name ‘Flynn’s Rangers,’ as a matter of fact, but that doesn’t matter either. All that does is that you can shoot!” He paused. “And sing. Sometimes we sing.”
Pete rolled his eyes. “Get your volunteers,” he told Saraan, “and report to Colonel Flynn by evening. Things are poppin’, and we don’t have time to screw around. I’m sure Flynn’ll be happy to instruct you on the new weapons. Those you can’t take will still have the choice of joining the fleet here or going back to Andaman with Mr. Garrett.”
USS Donaghey
All her guns had been removed, and there were occasi moments of semibuoyancy as Donaghey waited for the tide to reach its peak. Her upper hull was a shambles after the beating she’d taken, but her bottom was still remarkably tight despite working on the beach for the better part of a week. Further testimony to the skill, ingenuity, and planning that built her in the first place. There was no doubt she’d float if they got her off, but they’d likely get only one chance. The “stormy” time of year kept a different schedule in the Western Ocean, and it was doubtful she’d survive until the next time the tide ran this high.
“Commodore” Jim Ellis was aboard to coordinate the effort and discuss the signals they’d make. He’d also delivered some unwelcome news.
“Damn,” Garrett said. “I wanted to stay.”
“I know,” said Jim, “and I understand how you feel. The trouble is, frankly, you’re too good at what you do. You and Russ both. Face it; you’re heroes back home, naval heroes. You’re the best frigate skippers we have.” He grinned. “‘ DD’ skippers. And you had to learn the hard way, without power. Honestly, if I had it my way, I’d send you both to Baalkpan to teach, so consider yourselves lucky.” He looked at Garrett, leaning on the shattered capstan. There was a lot going on around the capstan on the deck below, where the heavy hawser was being secured. Offshore, Dowden and Tassat would try to bring Donaghey ’s bow around and pull her off by the nose. The rudder had been unshipped to prevent damage to it or the sternpost. There, on the upper deck, however, the crew knew a “stay away” meeting when they saw it, and they had relative privacy.
“Okay.” Garrett sighed. “At least I’ll keep Donaghey -if we get her loose.” He didn’t want to jinx them. “But what about Russ?”
“Yeah, what about me? I can fight. Why can’t I stay? There’s no extra ships just lying around for me, that’s for sure.”
“There would be if it was up to me,” Jim said cryptically. “There’re a few out here I’d like to send to the school I wish you could teach.” He sighed. “Politics,” he spat. “I guess it was inevitable with the Alliance growing so, but I kind of miss the way it was around here at first.”
“What, with us in charge of everything?” Greg chuckled.
“Well… yeah. Some of these skippers took the Navy oath and all, but I guarantee they got commands because Adar leaned on Keje because he needed to keep important people happy.”
“Adar knows the stakes as well as anyone,” Russ said, considering. “He wouldn’t make Keje take anybody who was flat unfit-or has he?”
Jim shook his head. “No. They’re decent seamen… sea-’Cats. Just kind of puffed up about not much. You remember the type.”
“Sure.”
“So what about me?” Russ asked.
“As of right now, you’re going back to Baalkpan, but to complete and work up a new frigate and get your butt back in the war as fast as you can.”
“Where? Here, or in the east?”
“I can’t tell you that. Wherever you’re needed most when the time comes, I guess.”
Chapelle mulled that over. “Huh. Weird.” He shook his head. “I’d love to go east and help the Skipper against those screwy Spics… .” His face brightened. “And there’s the women, of course! Givenmy choice, though, I guess I’d rather keep killin’ Grik.”
Jim Ellis shrugged. “It doesn’t much matter. Wherever we go, whatever we do in this goofed-up world, somebody or something always needs killing. In that sense, I guess it’s not so different from the world we came from. Courtney Bradford would probably come up with something profound, but I guess what it all boils down to is the white hats and black hats in the Westerns.” He tugged on the brim of his battered tan cover. “This one may not be white, but our guys’ Dixie cups are, and you know? Maybe that’s all they need to think about.”
“That is profound,” Garrett said. He still wore his white cover; his other was lost, but the white one had turned a blotchy tan. First, it had been stained with coffee-the result of a nutty order at a nutty time. Time itself had done the rest. “I wonder if some genius figured out, a long time ago, that officers and chiefs-maybe particularly chiefs-need to remember that sometimes things aren’t all black or white.”
“Tell it to Captain Reddy. He knows it like nobody I ever saw, but he’s also figured out there’s no way to sort out all the different shades anymore, even if there really ever was, which I doubt.” Jim shook his head. “It was easy against the Japs. They sneaked up and bombed Pearl Harbor; then they came after us. Easy. They were the bad guys and we were the good guys. Same here. The Grik want to eat all of us. In my humble opinion, that’s bad. Folks can stay out of the fight, but if they do, they’d better stay the hell out of the way.” He looked at Russ. “I don’t blame you for wanting to stay out here. Sure, there’s broads starting to make it to Baalkpan, but the situation in the east is a mess. Lots of different colors to worry about and the Skipper hates that.” He paused. “I guess you did catch that a new Jap ’can came through, before Clancy bought it and you lost your comm?”
There were nods.
“I guess if it’s any consolation, it looks like we’re winning the war back home. We bombed Tokyo, smashed a bunch of their carriers at Midway, retook some place called Guadalcanal. Stopped their butts cold and started rolling them up. The guys that told us didn’t know much more, but that’s swell. It’s a hell of a lot better than it was when we left. But here? In the east?” He removed his hat and scratched his greasy scalp. “We’ve got Japs chasing Japs,
