Gray’s stares. “You musta’ passed Boats Bashear coming aft. He damn near burned to death rollin’ all the depth charges before they blew the ass completely off the ship! I think he got hit by something too.” He shook his head. “We’re done here, Boats,”-he gestured at the column of smoke on the horizon, aft now-“and so are they. We got ’em, don’t you see? The Skipper already got ’em. Even if they don’t sink, and my guess is they will, they got no fuel and damn little ammo left. They are no longer a threat!” He stopped and hawked out the hard-used tobacco he’d been chewing.
“I’m exec. I’m in charge. It’s my decision,” he said. “I won’t waste another man or ’Cat like Bashear”- he jerked his head at Pack Rat-“him, or even you, to stomp a roach just ’cuz it’s still got one leg twitchin’. More important, I won’t risk this ship, what’s left of her, and I damn sure won’t risk the Skipper.” He crossed his arms. “We still got a lot bigger war to win, and he’s the one.” He turned to Paddy Rosen. “Reduce speed to one-third-or however she rides easiest. We’ll see. Our surgeon has some delicate work ahead of her, and so do our damage- control parties. Make your course one seven zero. We’re bound for Manila.”
“One seven zero to Manila, aye,” Rosen replied, his expression carefully neutral.
Gray let out a breath he must have been holding. “I had to pass the order, Spanky,” he said softly. “I… I’m glad you see it this way. The Skipper’s…”
“I know,” Spanky interrupted. “He’s special.” He scratched his bearded chin. “Hell, we’re all pretty scarce fellas. Now get back forward and find out what kind of blood the Skipper needs. That Jap can is finished. Let’s make sure Walker and Captain Reddy aren’t.”
Gray nodded. “What about the crew of that tanker? There might be survivors in boats.”
Spanky took another chew. “The hell with them. Our survivors got priority, and if gettin’ ’em to Manila soonest would save just one of ours, I’d leave a hundred o’ theirs behind any day.”
CHAPTER 28
Battle of Madras 1322
USNRS Salissa (CV-1)
Admiral Keje-Fris-Ar studied the oncoming monsters, their dark smoke standing high to leeward. Beyond the approaching columns of smoke was a more distant, grayer pall that marked what remained of Des-Div 4. He couldn’t grieve for them now, not yet. He had to concentrate. He realized furiously that ultimately, he’d made the same mistake as General Aalden: he’d split his force in the face of an underestimated foe. But his had been the greater failure because he’d had even less cause for confidence. His flyers had been telling him about the Grik ships all along, but he really had believed he still held the qualitative edge. Well, maybe he did in many ways, but not in a slugfest like Des-Div 4 had just endured. He would send no more frigates-DDs-against the enemy, but he must take Salissa into battle after all. She alone might still retain one qualitative-ironic-edge over Kurokawa’s malignant creations… the very weapons Kurokawa had once commanded. Keje knew the risk; his ship was not only indispensible to him, but also to the entire Alliance. Still, he had to try. If the enemy could not be stopped, all the troops on Saa-lon and Indiaa would be on their own, for a time, at least, and there was no telling how long they could hold without support.
“Range?” Keje called. The enemy had reassumed a column approach, and Keje’s telescope showed him that the line had rearranged itself. The lead ship had almost no damage forward.
“Fifty-two hundreds!”
“Very well,” Keje said. “The secondary baat-tery may commence firing!”
Salissa ’s fifty muzzle-loading smoothbores were still considered her main battery. The big gun forward was simply “gun number one.” The secondaries were the 5.5-inchers, and they alone were tied into a salvaged Japanese gun director. Like Walker, Salissa also had a salvaged alarm bell for a salvo buzzer. It rang.
Captain Jis-Tikkar orbited high above the battle in his hard-used Nancy, leading the airworthy remnant of Arracca ’s pursuit squadrons. He had only ten planes left. None had taken any fire on their bomb runs against the Grik, but two had been damaged by their own mortar-bomb fragments and he sent them to Madras. Two more had developed serious engine trouble, their overworked motors finally giving up, and he’d directed them to set down as close to what remained of Des-Div 4 as they could. He shuddered. The terrible sea was always full of monsters, but battles seemed to attract them somehow, like cannon fire drew rain from a heavy sky. The destroyermen had to be very busy, he knew. He understood that only one ship in Commodore Ellis’s battle line had escaped damage-but the three DDs that had remained to windward were racing in to help… He told his OC to ask someone to pick up the Arracca flyers.
Below him now, the battle had reached a terrible climax. Five Grik battleships and a lone remaining armored frigate were plodding toward Salissa — as she steamed directly at them. The sight of the massive ships, the columns of smoke, the long, white wakes against the purple sea, was stirring but horrible. Salissa was a little larger than her foes, but as mighty as he knew her wooden sides to be, they were only wood-and she was all alone.
Two tall geysers erupted just in front of the lead Grik ship, and Tikker knew Salissa ’s 5.5-inchers had opened up. That was one consolation, he thought; the Grik would have to get much closer to Salissa than they had to the DDs to seriously damage her-and she had those 5.5-inchers and that massive gun forward. If she could find a range where she could dish it out without taking too much…
“Cap-i-taan!” came an excited cry through his voice tube. “I just receive from Arracca COFO. He lead our other planes to Maa-draas-”
“Yeah? So?”
“He say Grik zeps, twenty plus, head this way! He… he can’t do nothin’! The pursuit ships already down, and his bomb planes…”
“I know,” Tikker said. “They’ve got nothing to shoot with, and they’ll be low on fuel!” He paused, considering, looking down. Salissa ’s guns had scored a telling blow on the lead Grik ship. Smoke gushed out of the foremost part of the casemate, and the ship was heeling out of line. A stutter of broadside guns flared, but their shot fell short of Salissa. He took his left foot off the rudder pedal and caressed the. 50-caliber Browning machine gun mounted in the Nancy’s nose with his toes. The 1st Pursuit had more machine guns, but besides being out of gas, they’d used most of their ammunition on strafing runs against the Grik behemoths. They didn’t have armor-piercing (AP) rounds, and their bullets had achieved nothing he could see. Only one other plane in this squadron had such a weapon. The rest had muskets loaded with incendiary tracers, but the Grik zeps had teeth now too. He sighed. “Confirm that Ahd-mi-raal Keje got the word, then send to all planes: We will intercept enemy airships!”
USNRS Salissa
Salissa ’s fifth salvo slashed into the crippled Grik battleship, and black smoke and steam jetted high in the sky above its two center funnels. Fire spurted from the tortured forward casemate where the wheelhouse likely was, and smoke started pouring out the gun ports spaced down the side of the ship. Abruptly, it lost speed and wallowed to a stop. We have punched through their armor! Keje realized with a thrill-but the next fresh Grik battleship was now steaming past the derelict and growing relentlessly closer. Three guns situated in the forward casemate fired one after the other, and Keje was sure he saw the monstrous roundshot rise out of the smoke on surprisingly high trajectories! Moments later, two of them struck Salissa.
The massive ship barely flinched. One ball glanced off the starboard bow below the leading edge of the flight deck, just beneath the number one gun, and the splash drenched its crew. That strike did no more than leave a long, deep dent in one of the thickest parts of Salissa ’s hull. The other shot landed on the flight deck, however, plunging down through the relatively thin timbers and crashing through the hangar deck as well. Even as Captain Atlaan-Fas called for reports from the damage-control parties, the salvo bell rang and the 5.5s barked again.
“Have number one commence firing!” Keje ordered.
“The range is still long,” Atlaan warned, “and we have not many shells for the great gun!”
“We have enough for this fight, and it is more accurate than theirs,” Keje said, “which they are already hitting us with! Besides, if they hit it, we will not be able to use it at all! It is fairly exposed.”
Atlaan nodded. “Of course.” He spoke into the fire-control tube. “The number one gun will commence
