Rising Tides d-5

by Taylor Anderson

  He’d assembled the men and told them that Respite had… facilities… for seafaring visitors, and there’d be liberty on the standard rotation-as long as the men behaved. He then went on to explain a little of the “way things worked around here,” and he’d been stunned by the response. He had to immediately quash a rising, incredulous, spontaneous crusade among his crew-human and Lemurian-to “Free the Wimmen!” He’d been stunned… and proud. As miserable as the scarcity of women had made the men of USS Walker, their daily association with “’Cat gals” in labor or combat had made the revelation that Imperial women lived in almost universal servitude even more horrifying to them than it might otherwise have been. Once, some might have even wistfully dreamed of a place where women could be their virtual slaves. No more. They wanted women, and no mistake, but their perhaps unique experience with the prolonged “dame famine” made the very idea that “some Joe” might practically own a whole passel of them utterly hateful.

  He went on to explain the use to which they intended to put some of the gold on board, news that was met with universal acclaim. That lowered the steaming, evangelical kettle aboard Walker to a simmer. Now, though the men still visited the brothels fairly regularly, he’d noticed some had begun to “make friends” with other island women, both indentured and “free.” He encouraged that. Not only did friendships with un-obligated women gain them female “recruits,” on whose behalf Bradford was negotiating with Governor Radcliff to allow unrestricted emigration, but honestly, it gave Courtney an idea of which indentured women to focus on for “purchase” with their limited gold. Matt had already ordered the men not to ever come to him with any “special requests.” If a girl one of the guys was sweet on just “happened” to be chosen, that was one thing. If the men thought he was letting them go on a “shopping spree,” that would be something else, probably bad in any number of ways.

  Respite had other interesting aspects as well. For example, the dreaded flasher fish so prolific within the Malay Barrier apparently hadn’t ever crossed the vast, deep ocean to this place. There were strange creatures, to be sure, and most of the more unusual probably guarded dangers as yet unsuspected. There were even vast numbers of perfectly ordinary-looking sharks clustered around the barrier reef that protected the fine, clear anchorage within the broad lagoon. But amazingly, for the first time since that terrible Squall brought them to this world, they’d found a place where they could actually take a refreshing dip.

  Much to the incredulity of their Lemurian shipmates, human destroyermen thoughtlessly leaped over the side and capered in the water like children whenever their duties allowed. Armed watchers stood guard, of course, ready to warn of the approach of anything dangerouslooking beneath the crystal water, but simple, innocent pleasures such as that worked wonders on the men’s morale. The upbeat mood was infectious, and it benefited the ’Cats as well. Within a couple of days, a few of them were even goaded into the utterly unnatural element. They were watched like infants, and their reactions were almost always hilarious-and predictable. Spanky likened the spectacle to throwing housecats in the bathtub, and he wasn’t far off. Some of the hardier ’Cats eventually got sort of used to it. A couple even at least pretended to enjoy swimming as much as their human shipmates did.

  Some days Spanky brought Tabby on deck where she could breathe fresh air into her damaged lungs. She still wore bandages over the worst of her burns, but many had healed enough that they could endure the open air, at least with some polta paste applied. To those who watched, Spanky was gruff but attentive, and Tabby, despite her pain, seemed happy. All were relieved that she would mend.

  With that image in mind, standing there now with Jenks at his side, Matt was struck by the irony that ultimately, his people had more in common with the Lemurians than they did with the only human civilization they really knew on this world-one derived from the very same culture his own nation had sprung from. He shook his head. If there was one thing he’d learned since they’d wound up here, it was that his crew, his men, had a distinct talent for disrupting the status quo. That was perhaps the supreme irony of all: before the war, any change in the status quo in China or the Philippines was met with stiff resistance.

  He smiled.

  “I might better get back to the ship, Skipper,” Gray said. “Stites’ll be along directly to spell me at protectin’ you.” He grinned, but waved out at the lagoon where Walker lay at anchor amid the Imperial ships. “I swear, Bashear’s a good hand, but he don’t know how to be a proper bosun yet. Can’t get any work outta the men. Look at all them hoodlums jumpin’ in the water and splashin’ around! And our poor ship ridin’ there with new rust streaks down her sides!”

  Stites arrived only moments later, ’03 slung on his shoulder. Instead of the usual banter with Gray, however, he stepped up to Matt, saluting. “Skipper,” he said anxiously, “I got a message here from the tanker squadron. Some’s from them and some’s been relayed on, tacked on, sorta. I, ah, read it, Skipper.”

  “Thanks, Stites,” Matt replied. Grinning, he returned the salute. “That’s okay. I trust your discretion.” Everyone had been keeping close tabs on the aftermath of the Rangoon campaign and the buildup for the push against Ceylon. They were also hooked on the drama surrounding the expedition to salvage Santa Catalina. Of course, any news about Allison Verdia Letts was quickly passed around her shipful of “uncles” and “aunts.” Matt saw no reason to censor the transmissions they received. He took the message, written on Imperial paper Jenks had given them.

  FROM COMMODORE SOR-LOMAAK COMMANDING FDFS (FIL-PIN DEFENSE FORCE

  SHIP) SALAAMA-NA AND ELEMENTS USN TASK FORCE OIL CAN X

  Matt looked up. “I really don’t know this Sor-Lomaak,” he admitted. “I assume Saan-Kakja does, and trusts him. Salaama-na ’s a Fil-pin-built Home…” He looked back at the next part, then read it aloud for Jenks’s benefit.

  EYES ONLY MP REDDY CINCAF X DISTRIBUTE FOLLOWING AS YOU SEE FIT X

  ENCOUNTERED-RENDERED AID-TOOK IN TOW-DISABLED IMPERIAL SHIP ULYSSES X

  VESSEL HAS SUSTAINED SERIOUS STORM DAMAGE BUT IS SEAWORTHY X LARGE

  PERCENTAGE SURVIVORS X BETTER CHARTS AIDED DECISION DISPATCH AHEAD

  THREE (3) LIGHT OILERS IN COMPANY NEW FIL-PIN-BUILT USN STEAM FRIGATE

  USS SIMMS THAT JOINED US THIS DAY X ETA 100 NM ENE YOUR POSITION FOUR

  (4) DAYS X PLEASE PROVIDE PILOT AND ESCORT X REMAINDER OF SQUADRON

  APPROX NINETEEN (19) DAYS OUT X SAAN-KAKJA SENDS COMPLIMENTS AND

  DEVOTION X MOST RESPECTFULLY SOR-LOMAAK SALAAMA-NA X END MESSAGE XXX

  “That is good news!” Jenks exclaimed. “How very excellent! I had despaired of Ulysses! I should be glad to send Icarus to pilot your other ships in!” He paused, wearing an anxious smile. “I must say, I’m fairly bursting to view this ‘new’ Simms! She was named for Captain Lelaa’s ship, was she not? The first steam frigate out of the Fil-pin yards! I’ll warrant she’s a beauty!”

  “Thanks,” Matt said, reading further. “I’m sure she is.” His expression had changed. “ Icarus will be much appreciated,” he murmured, then he began to read aloud again. The next part seemed to have been composed in a hurry.

  ADDENDUMM X A MAJOR REPEAT MAJR VOLCAANIC EVENT OBSRVED SSE

  SOUTHERNMOST FIL-PIN SETLE-MENT MIN-DAAN-AO VICINITY TALAUD X ALL

  CO-MUNICATIONS USS TOOLBOX LAUMER EXPEDISION LOST X HEVY SEA SURGE

  SOUTH ISLANDS X MUCH DAMAGE X FEAR WIRST NOT YET HAPPEN X SAD

  CON-DOLINCES ALL OUR PEEPLE X WILL UPDATE X MESSGE END XXX

  “Good God!” Jenks exclaimed, stunned.

  “Yes, sir,” Gray agreed somberly. “God help ’em.”

  “Commodore Jenks, please arrange a meeting with Governor Radcliff,” Matt said woodenly. “We have a few things left to sort out before we take off, and the date for that’s finally near. If our replenishment vessels arrive in four days, I want to be underway in six.” He shook the note in his hand and looked at the men around him. “We
’re running out of time, gentlemen, I feel it. We may not be trying to refloat a submarine on top of a volcano, but events might still overwhelm us while we sit here goofing off. Before much longer, Billingsley’ll be arriving in Imperial waters. It stands to reason that with the princess captive, whatever scheme the Company’s cooking up will likely hatch shortly after that.” He looked at Jenks. “I’m sorry, Commodore, I wish you could be with us, but we’re going to have to sprint for it. Fine a ship as Achilles is, she just can’t keep up when Walker stretches her legs.”

  Jenks nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “Very well, Captain Reddy,” he said and sighed, looking out at his ship in the harbor. “I will arrange the meeting, but if you mean to move that swiftly-something I cannot debate, since I too feel a growing sense of urgency-I must leave my ship in the hands of Lieutenant Grimsley and accompany you. Walker might be able to sink half the Imperial Fleet, but she can’t sink New Britain. You simply can’t stand offshore and demand all Company officials be marched down and hanged at execution dock.” He chuckled grimly. “Again, it is amply demonstrated that neither of us can succeed alone. I can’t get there in time without you, and once there, you can’t accomplish anything without me.” He paused. “No offense meant, and I don’t mean to boast, but I do think I can secure the aid of the one other person who might be in a position to help us.” In response to Matt’s blank stare, he shrugged and elaborated. “The Governor-Emperor, of course. You see, despite everything, the Governor-Emperor and I are… well acquainted. He will see me if we make our presence known, and he will believe me about his child.”

  The “Governor’s Palace” was an impressive edifice. It wasn’t the biggest independent dwelling on Respite-that title belonged to the Company Director’s Mansion-but completely enclosed within the formidable harbor defenses they’d seen from sea, it was the most secure and commanded the preeminent view. The structure itself was the most “familiar” Matt had yet seen on this world, in terms of architecture. It looked much like the homes dedicated to the commanding officers of any number of American military facilities back in the States and abroad. It was large, airy, comfortable, and tastefully decorated. The elevation and an unopposed breeze from almost any direction provided Matt with a tantalizing, nostalgic hint of an early fall day on the coast. Except for the plastered limestone columns supporting the seaward-facing porch roof on the ground floor, there was little ostentation. The porch also overlooked a rather radically sloping “parade ground” surrounding a flagpole resembling a topmast and ending with a line of officers’ barracks just short of the defensive wall. The grade was such that one could sit on the porch and see the harbor and the vast sea beyond with a view unobstructed by anything but the Imperial flag. It was breathtaking.

  Matt and his companions stepped down from the donkey-drawn “land barge” with spoked, wooden wheels that had carried them up the impressive slope like a San Francisco streetcar. The conveyance had pleasantly surprised Matt the first time he rode it to the palace. It was a simple affair, built with a single back and two outward-facing benches. Even with six admirably teamed and amazingly dedicated donkeys pulling it, it moved at a ponderous pace, but though unsprung, it was surprisingly comfortable. On that first visit, he’d expected to have to hoof it all the way to the Governor’s Palace dressed in his deteriorating best or, worse perhaps, ride one of the ridiculous donkeys. Either eventuality might have caused an international incident. Juan Marcos had performed miracles maintaining Matt’s original “Mess Dress,” and the sweaty damage of such a trek might have driven him to fire on the palace with one of Walker ’s guns. Since then, he’d enjoyed riding the land barge several times during its winding, scenic, relaxing ascent. Sitting on it, calm and still, was a little more difficult when it came down the hill, though.

  Matt, Gray, Bradford, Spanky, and Chack were received at the fortress gate by an Imperial Marine, who saluted and politely escorted them across the stubbly parade ground and the palace lawn to the porch. Commodore Jenks, O’Casey, and Achilles Marine Lieutenant Blair were already seated upon colorfully cushioned wooden chairs, attending Governor Radcliff, his adjutant, the Respite militia colonel, and several diaphanously dressed ladies. Drawing closer, Matt recognized the governor’s wife and three daughters. The wife, Emelia, was a short, round, but surprisingly attractive woman who habitually wore the amused expression of one who observed but wouldn’t stoop to dabble in the affairs of men. The daughters shared the attractiveness of their mother in younger, slimmer forms, visible in the breeze despite the shapeless clothing. They shared a trace of her “look” as well. In Imperial society, Emelia’s was probably an extremely liberated life, and Matt suspected that Radcliff appreciated her opinions, in private at least. They seemed comfortable together, and the governor, as in the past, didn’t immediately shoo his women away.

  The Imperial men stood as the destroyermen approached.

  “Captain Reddy of the United States warship Walker, come to call with companions, Your Excellency,” barked the Marine escort. Matt saluted, as did the others except for Bradford, who swept his ridiculous hat from his head and bowed, pointing his ruddy, balding pate at their hosts.

  The Imperial officers returned the salute in their slightly different fashion, but Radcliff was beckoning them forward. “Please do come aboard,” he boomed. “These militant ceremonials waste time we may later regret! Nothing against ceremonials, militant and otherwise, but everything has a season and we face a stormy one indeed.”

  The ladies didn’t rise or move in any way, but all seemed intensely focused on Chack, as before. His “American” English was near perfect now, as the first Lemurian who’d ever begun to learn it, and he was the very personification of military professionalism and bearing. He’d clearly impressed the governor, but he was just as clearly aware-and mortified-that the Imperial ladies considered him exotically cute. Matt saw it too and was amused by their fascination and Chack’s discomfiture, but doubted the governor’s ladies would consider Chack so cute and cuddly if they’d ever seen him in battle.

  “Please, gentle… ah… gentlemen,” Radcliff continued, suddenly a little discomfited himself, “do join us. Watch your footing on the steps there-the spacing’s all wrong. I’ve been meaning to have it fixed… Well done! True seamen never even notice! Please be seated, everyone. We have much to discuss!”

  Matt sat on one of the empty chairs and removed his hat while the others did the same. Raking his fingers through his hair to slick it back, he noticed one of the daughter had shifted her attention to him. He tried to ignore her gaze.

  “Your Excellency,” Matt began, “I’m sure Commodore Jenks told you the news we received yesterday?”

  “Indeed.” Radcliff’s expression turned grim. “You have my most sincere condolences. We have considerable experience with volcano-ism and the sea surges such activity can produce. I do hope the ultimate toll won’t be as high as you fear.”

  “Thank you, sir. Another message today added little new information.”

  Radcliff paused briefly, then shook his head. “Pardon me, Captain Reddy. Please know I sympathize with your concern, but I cannot restrain my wonder regarding your devices for communicating over such vast distances! The message Jenks conveyed to me was saddening… and disturbing in other ways that we must discuss, but the means of its delivery… I cannot comprehend it.”

  Courtney Bradford leaned forward in his chair. “My dear Governor Radcliff! It’s really quite simple, once you understand some very fundamental principles-”

  “Courtney,” Matt interjected, hoping the Imperials hadn’t been too offended by Bradford’s exuberant and completely unconscious condescension. O’Casey, at least, understood a few of those principles. “Later.” He looked at Radcliff. “Right now, let’s focus on the message itself. What else about it is ‘disturbing’?”

  Radcliff glanced at his adjutant, his face reddening a little. “A single moment more, if you’ll indulge me. First, to complete an understanding reached betwe
en Mr. Bradford and myself, let me say that I understand that there are… certain aspects of our civilization you may not be comfortable with.” He sighed, and his eyes flicked toward his wife. “I might even make so bold as to propose that I… increasingly share a measure of discomfort regarding one issue in particular.” He spread his hands helplessly. “Sadly, momentous change often requires considerable time. In our negotiations, Mr. Bradford has proposed ways those changes might be accelerated, if not instantly achieved.” He looked at Bradford. “I believe you summed it up nicely by referring to a ‘balance of supply and demand’?”