Diania had followed her on the bridge and was walking as carefully and fearfully as if there were molten lava between the wooden strakes beneath her feet. The girl was listed as a carpenter’s mate, but she was still more Sandra’s stewardess than anything. She was learning to fight too. Chack had taught her a lot before he left the ship, and Stites and, increasingly, Gray were teaching her how to shoot. To Matt’s amazement, Gray had already suggested that Diania be included in the Captain’s Guard, so she could learn the ropes and be prepared to serve in an equivalent capacity for “Mrs. Minister” Sandra Reddy, or “Lady Sandra,” as the Imperials called her. Even among Matt’s human destroyermen, that title seemed to be gaining steam. He shook his head.
“Sandra,” he said. “Miss Diania. Welcome to the bridge. Sandra, you’ll retain all the privileges you enjoyed… previously,” he assured her, “and are always welcome on the bridge except when you’re at your battle station. Miss Diania, you may accompany her. You”-he sighed-“may eventually even find yourself on the bridge-watch bill. In the meantime, you’re welcome to look around, but please don’t touch anything or distract anyone.” Matt knew the last warning would be tough for her to avoid. She was a beauty, and Paddy couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her.
“What have you got there, Captain?” Sandra asked, gesturing at the clipboard in his hand.
“Well, the watch bill, for one thing.” He flipped the page. “This is another message from Baalkpan, via Maa- ni-la.” He scanned down it. “There’s some good news on top of the bad. Adar’s Torpedo Day bash went off pretty well. Ben didn’t crash any of his new pursuit planes into anything, and most of the small arms seemed to work okay. The torpedoes still need work, but they did work. Sort of.” He grinned. “On that note, Mahan still has two salvageable torpedo mounts, and she may even get four eventually. Lots of work still to do on her.” He raised his eyebrows and blinked. “I still can’t believe they raised the old girl, and we might get her back. She won’t look the same, they say, but that doesn’t matter as long as she’s back in the war!” He chuckled. “Speaking of not looking the same, Irvin’s finally settled on what to do with S-Nineteen. He means to keep her gun and bow tubes but gut everything else that makes her a sub. The conversion will take a while, but the increase in buoyancy and freeboard, as well as the extreme decrease in weight, should make her a lot quicker on her feet. No telling how she’ll handle- she’s liable to roll her guts out-but she ought to be at least as good a torpedo boat as anything we had in the Great War, with a lot longer legs.”
“It sounds like Mahan and S-Nineteen are counting an awful lot on Bernie’s torpedoes,” Sandra observed.
“Yeah, but Bernie’ll come through,” Matt agreed with certainty. Then he frowned. “I’m still not sure what to think of this Herring guy. I agreed with Alan and Adar that it was high time we had some snoops, and we need somebody who knows how to gather and compile intelligence on our enemies.” He shrugged. “Lord knows we haven’t done a good job at that. We probably already have a lot more information than we know what to do with, or how to apply. We need somebody to analyze it all.” He grunted. “He’s even already come up with some pretty good ideas. Sending Greg Garrett off exploring in Donaghey is brilliant, and I should have thought of that. Apparently even the Grik are starting to go to steam-I don’t like the sound of those big ships of theirs! — and Donaghey ’s days in a battle line are probably done. On the other hand, even though Greg’s the perfect choice to lead the expedition, he’s too damn good to lose! That kid ought to be an admiral!”
“I know you’re close to Greg,” Sandra began.
“I’m close to all my people,” Matt said sternly.
“Of course. But you are a little closer to him.”
Matt sighed. “Maybe so. He reminds me a little of myself at his age, I guess-not that I’d accomplished nearly as much as he has by then! I just… It’s an awful big world out there, and we still don’t know what might be over the very next hill!”
Sandra looked at him. “Tell me the truth. If you were in his position and got an assignment like his, how would you feel?”
“Ha! Thrilled, I guess.”
“There you are. Now, what else about this Commander Herring bothers you?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t met him, and that’s part of it, I guess. Also, if you read Alan between the lines, I get the feeling he thinks Herring already has too much influence with Adar. Even that wouldn’t bother me too much if Saan-Kakja hadn’t tacked on that she doesn’t trust the ‘arrogant and rude’ Mr. Herring when they retransmitted from Maa-ni-la.”
Sandra chuckled. “For us and Adar to receive! I do dearly love Saan-Kakja, though you may have created a monster when you helped break her out of her shell!”
“She and Princess Rebecca are two of a kind, only one doesn’t have a tail!” Matt agreed. “About the same age, fearless, honest, and very quick to anger…” He paused. “God, I hope Governor-Emperor McDonald and his wife, Ruth, are all right! I think Courtney, Sean, and our forces in the New Britain Isles will help keep things together if… they’re not. But if Princess Rebecca winds up on top, a lot of heads will roll, and she may not be too particular whose they are!”
“Courtney won’t let her become a monster,” Sandra said with conviction. “And don’t forget: something else Saan-Kakja and Princess Rebecca have in common is their devotion to you.”
Matt shifted uncomfortably. “Well, the point is,” he said, skipping Sandra’s observation, “that Saan-Kakja thinks Herring’s a jerk. Alan doesn’t come right out and say it, but he does too.” He rubbed his nose, broken in the Battle of Baalkpan. “You know, we’ve always gotten along with the ’Cats, right from the start. Sure, we had differences-still do-but nothing we weren’t both willing to try to overcome. We’re more like them now, and they’re more like us-but we had a lot in common to start with… and it makes me wonder.”
“What?”
“Well, we both saw it before the war back home. There were a lot of different navies within the United States Navy that didn’t even think the same way. The rivalry, the different cultures, of the deck apes and snipes are just the tiniest example. Destroyermen might almost be a different species from submariners, and the battleship boys are something else.” He rolled his eyes. “Then you’ve got the tenders and oilers! It… was like different tribes! To make it even more confusing, crews attached to the different fleets for a while were different too. I had to make some big adjustments when I came from the Pacific Fleet to the Asiatic Fleet, and it took me a while. The Pacific Fleet was always more spit and polish, with newer ships and better gear.” He shrugged. “Maybe it was even more professional in some ways, but the guys in the Asiatic Fleet did what they could with what they had, and the Philippines felt more like home than home did, to some. They were more laid-back, more tolerant, I guess, and more used to people who didn’t look and act like ‘us.’ I’ve always believed that’s why we hit it off so well with the ’Cats, and I’m not so sure a ship from the Pacific Fleet, even another destroyer, would’ve had it so easy”-he snorted-“in that respect, at least.”
“I think I understand where you’re headed,” Sandra said thoughtfully. “Herring’s not Asiatic Fleet. He’s not even a fleet officer. On top of that, he’s very recently suffered terrible mistreatment from the Japanese-people who are ‘different.’ Do you think that’s why he rubbed Saan-Kakja the wrong way? Just his attitude?”
“I hope so. Like Letts said, Adar seems to trust him, and Adar’s a good judge of character, I think…”
“But?”
“But,” Matt agreed, “he’s also-understandably-obsessed with exterminating the Grik, and with things heating up in the west, he might lose some of his objectivity.” Matt shook his head as if to clear it. “I trust Adar’s judgment,” he repeated, “but I also trust Saan-Kakja’s instincts. She’s been stampeded before and knows what it feels like.” He smiled at his wife. “I guess we’ll see when we get there.”
“Cap-i-taan,” Minnie said behind them. “Lookout says ‘pleezy-sores bearing seero tree seero, relaa-tive! Two t’ousand yaards! Many pleezy-sores!’”
Matt left his chair and stepped out on the starboard bridgewing, raising his binoculars. “Wow,” he muttered. “What a pack!” It looked like hundreds of the things were swimming along, blowing on the calm surface of the sea. Their backs rising and falling like whales. He handed the binoculars to Sandra. “I’ve never seen so many before.”
“What are they doing?” Sandra asked, adjusting the glasses. Then she saw. “Why, they’re like dolphins!” she exclaimed. “Maybe they’re not leaping at our bow, but they do seem to be pacing us from a distance!”
“Better they stay at a distance! They’re a lot bigger than dolphins,” Paddy said.
“What’re daw-fins, if ye please?” Diania asked hesitantly.
“Cap-i-taan,” Minnie said. “Lieutenant Campeti requests permission to test the new ordnance again, an’ shoot at them devils.”
Matt shook his head. “Permission denied. I thought he was happy with what he learned last night against
