Matt lowered the glasses and looked at the men around him. He sensed their fear, even in the gloom. They knew their ematch. The game that was called on account of rain almost exactly a year ago would be played out here at last, and the opponent they faced wasn’t only the hulking brute they associated with all their trials; it was the Japs. Somehow that seemed profoundly appropriate. The terrible battle raging around them on land and sea would be won or lost. Perhaps what they did here would influence that, but regardless, this was Walker ’s fight, and Mahan ’s. Nothing anyone else did could influence that. For a moment Matt was silent, remembering the long list of names stricken from the rolls since the last time these three ships met, and he could almost feel the ghosts gathering ’round, expecting him to exact revenge or join them in the attempt. He looked again at the men and ’Cats in the pilothouse, and forced a slight smile.
“Just a few good licks; then we run like hell.” He rolled his shoulders and faced the front. Beneath his hand was the back of his chair, bolted to the front of the pilothouse. Part of the ship. Gently, almost lovingly, he patted it. “One more time, old girl,” he whispered, then raised his voice. “All ahead full. Make your course zero one zero.”
“Ahead full, zero one zero, aye,” came the strained reply.
“Mr. Garrett may commence firing as soon as he has a solution. Armor-piercing.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” Reynolds said, and repeated the order to the acting gunnery officer. “Sir, Mr. Garrett wants to know if he should withhold a reserve?”
Matt shook his head. “No. Give ’em all he’s got.”
Even as Walker accelerated, her tired sinews bunching for a final sprint, they saw winking flashes and blooms of fire erupt from the Japanese ship.
Kurokawa was just leaving to return to the more spacious flag bridge-a more comfortable vantage from which to view the battle-when he was stopped by the sighting of the American destroyer. He whirled and paced quickly to the windows.
“Where?!”
“Port bow, Captain,” Sato said in a quiet, clipped voice. Kurokawa rubbed his hands together with glee.
“Commence firing, Commander Okada! I want that ship erased!”
“Yes, Captain.” Sato prepared to relay the order with a heavy heart, but Kurokawa speared him with a cold stare. Sato’s tone had finally penetrated the captain’s euphoria.
“Commander Okada does not approve the destruction of His Majesty’s enemies?” he mocked. Sato turned to him, expression hooded. But before he spoke, something deep inside him snapped and he stiffened to attention.
“On the contrary, Captain. But I remain unconvinced the American destroyer represents His Majesty’s chief enemy in this world.” He looked pointedly at Kurokawa. “We are about to waste ammunition, lives, and possibly an opportunity as well.” Sato knew he’d said too much, and was fully aware of the consequences, but he couldn’k hf they do that, my guess is we’ll crack wide-open. I want you to take personal command of the rifle company, and stand ready to hammer them back if they force a breach. Use the B’mbaadans too. Rifles are great for distance work, but up close you’re going to need swords to back you up.”
“My place is in the line with my Marines,” Chack protested.
Alden suppressed a sad smile. “The rifles are your Marines too. I need someone I trust, who’ll wait till they’re needed, but won’t wait too long.” He paused. “I also need someone who’ll keep his head, and knows when it is too late. If that occurs, pull back immediately. If they knock down the whole line, save what you can and fall back on the hospital. You’ll be in command of the rear guard, as well as the effort to evacuate into the jungle. Is that understood?”
Chack blinked furiously. “You ask too much! To leave my Homes, my people…”
“I’m not asking shit!” Alden snarled. “I’m telling you what you will do! The only thing I’m asking is if you understand your duty.”
Chack slowly nodded. In the distance the raucous horns began to blare. The terrible thrumming sound continued to build until it seemed like thousands of them this time. The thunderous rumble of the shields rivaled even the nearby guns. Across the field in the flickering light, the Grik began to move.
Then, from nearby, a low moan was heard that seemed to have nothing to do with the approaching horde. Pete quickly looked in the direction many heads had turned. On the bay, considerably farther to the north now, a rising ball of fiery black smoke roiled into the air, briefly illuminating the stricken destroyer beneath it.
“Oh, my God,” Alden breathed. “ Walker…”
“Damage report!” Matt bellowed, picking himself up off the deck. He already knew it was bad. He’d felt the heat of the blast, the ship physically yanked from under his feet. Already her speed was bleeding away. Throughout her sortie against the mammoth battle cruiser, Walker had seemed charmed. Salvo after salvo of her armor-piercing four-inch-fifties slammed home with telling effect, each shell blessed, kissed, or sent with a hateful curse. Amagi ’s gunnery went wild, and Matt guessed they must’ve taken out her forward fire control. A few shell fragments from near misses, and some light antiaircraft fire was all the damage the destroyer received in return, in spite of the blizzard of five-and-a-half-inch shells thrashing the water all around her. Taking advantage of this, Walker continued to punish her adversary for several minutes longer than Matt originally intended; he just couldn’t help himself. Reason finally clawed its way back into his consciousness, however, and finally, reluctantly, he gave the order to turn away. Walker raced up the bay toward the north inlet, making smoke.
By then, hidden in the darkness and her dense curtain of smoke, Walker had to have been invisible. The wind was still out of the south, and the man-made cloud spread, wafting around her. She’d ceased firing as soon as she turned, and all lights were out. Where she headed, there were no fires or lights to silhouette her, and overhead no moon b"3"›“All ahead flank!” Matt shouted as his ship slowed even further. A few shells continued falling, but the fire was desultory now. They must think they got us, he realized. Stepping around the chart house and looking aft, he could see why. Walker was afire from just behind the bridge to somewhere aft of the amidships deckhouse. The Japanese shell must have penetrated the fuel bunker they’d installed in place of the number one boiler, and blown burning oil all over the ship. Steam gushed from somewhere to rise and mix with the black, greasy smoke. Even as he watched, hoses began to play on the fires.
“Captain!” Reynolds called behind him. “Mr. McFarlane says the number two boiler took a direct hit, and the fuel bunker’s been punctured! There’s major flooding in the forward fireroom-he says it’s gone, Skipper-there’s nothing he can do. There’s also minor flooding in the aft fireroom he thinks he can keep under control.”
“We’re losing steam!”
“Yes, sir. The valTell them they’d better already be out of the Great Hall, because it’s about to be remodeled.”
Amagi had stopped her advance, and now lay reflecting the fires and the glow of battle right in the middle of the bay. Several Grik ships were still nearby. One looked a little larger than the others. Maybe it was one of the white ones like Mallory had seen, Matt thought, as he watched Amagi ’s main gun turrets train out to starboard. They fired.
Amagi ’s bridge was a shambles. The American gunnery had been remarkably accurate, and several shells impacted uncomfortably close. Two of the bridge officers were dead, and even Kurokawa was lightly wounded when a shell fragment slashed his scalp and severed the brim of his hat. Even so, for the first time since the Strange Storm that brought them here, Captain Kurokawa felt an immense sense of satisfaction course through him. The puny American destroyer responsible for all his aggravation was afire and dead in the water. He’d contemplated finishing her, but she was clearly doomed. He’d let them see the destruction he woug He lowered his eyes in abject misery, and even above the sound of the crashing guns he heard Kurokawa’s thin laugh rise within the confines of the bridge.
Alan Letts heard the incoming rounds. He, O’Casey, and Nakja-Mur, as well as members of the command staff who hadn’t yet transferred to the secondary HQ, were preparing to descend the ladder from the lowest level of the Great Hall.
“Down!” Letts screamed, and for the next several moments there was nothing but the overwhelming sound and pressure of titanic detonations. The entire massive structure of the Great Hall sagged beneath them, and there was a terrific crash from above. Oil lamps fell from the walls and rolled away down the sloping floor. One came to rest beside a crumpled tapestry that once adorned the wall of the entrance chamber, and the beautifully woven fabric began to burn. In the eerie silence immediately following the salvo, a deep, rumbling groan could be heard.
Letts scrambled to his feet and looked quickly around. One of the runners had been crushed by a massive limb. It had fallen from the tree far above and crashed down through all three levels of the hall, driving him through the deck on which Alan stood with its jagged stump. The others rose shakily, but Nakja-Mur still lay sprawled. “Quickly!” he shouted at O’Casey. “We’ve got to get him out now! There may be only seconds before the next salvo!”
Between them and the staff members who’d gathered their wits, they managed to heave the High Chief through the opening and lower him quickly to the ground. By then Nakja-Mur was recovering his senses, and he looked around, blinking surprise. People were running in all directions, and the Great Hall no longer looked quite right. Flames leaped up from nearby structures, and over all there was a wailing, keening sound.
“Take his legs!” Alan yelled. O’Casey could only grab one, but there was plenty of help now. They ran as fast as they could toward the edge of the parade ground, while a sound like a roaring gale and tearing canvas descended upon them.
“Down!”
Even as they dropped, there came again the avalanche of deafening sound and mighty flashes of searing fire as the earth heaved into the sky.
Letts tried to stand, but fell to his knees, stunned by the proximity of the blast. He looked back. Somehow the Great Hall and Sacred Tree still stood, but the building was engulfed in flames. Any shells that actually struck it must have passed right through and detonated on the ground or against the tree itself. Flames licked up and across the huge sloping roof, clawing greedily at the branches above. Smoldering leaves and drifting ash descended all around. Up beyond the light of the fire where the tree disappeared into darkness, they could only just hear Naga’s plaintive, wailing chant.
“So now I see war as you are accustomed to it,” Nakja-Mur rasped beside him.
Letts glanced down and saw that the High Chief had risen to a sitting position. O’Casey just looked stunned. At least he’d acted, though.
“Nobody ever gets accustomedo it, div height="1em" width="1em"›“You all tried to tell me, but I never…” Nakja-Mur’s eyes reflected an expression almost of wonder. He looked back in the direction they’d come. “The Tree…!”
Letts motioned the others to grab him. “Never mind the tree! We have to keep moving away from it, in case they aren’t satisfied with their handiwork yet.”
“The Tree…”
The arrival of the wounded at the central hospital had slowed to a trickle. Not that there was any shortage of them, but with the sound of battle coming from everywhere now, Sandra knew more should be arriving, not less. She saw Courtney Bradford talking with one of the young runners, and she quickly finished bandaging an Aryaalan’s wounded shoulder and jogged over to where he stood.
“What is it? What’s happening?” she demanded. Bradford turned to her, and his face seemed pasty in the torchlight.
“It’s… it’s all going according to plan,” he repeated once more.
She glared at him. “It’s not!” she snarled. “It can’t possibly be! There are no more wounded coming in. Have the field hospitals been overrun?”
“No-no, that’s not it at all. Most of the wounded are returning to the fight, and those who cannot must remain where they are for now. The ambulance corps have gone to strengthen the walls.”
“But… how…” She stopped. “We’re losing then?”
“Not as you would say losing, precisely,” Bradford hedged.
“What were you and that messenger just talking about?”
“Um. Well, you see, I’ve been asked to send whoever can still wield a weapon up to the east wall. It’s not engaged-and probably won’t be,” he quickly added, “but they’ve taken everyone off it to reinforce those areas that are.” He stopped. “We’ve also been told to prepare to evacuate into the jungle if the word should come. If it does, we must move quickly.”
Sandra felt numb. “Is there any word of Walker, or… or Captain Reddy?” she asked quietly.
Bradford’s expression became even more strained, and he placed a hand on her shoulder. “ Walker is afire, my dear,” he said gently, “and dead in the water.” He gestured vaguely. “She gave a lovely account of herself but…” He shook his head. “The Japs aren’t even shooting at her anymore.”
Sandra could only stand and stare at him as hot tears came to her eyes. “Mr. Bradford,” she said very formally, voice brittle as glass, “would you be so kind as to cover for me here awhile?”
He gawked at her and then looked helplessly around. “Don’t be ridiculous! I don’t have the faintest idea-”
“Ahead full. Left full rudder! We’ll wiggle around a little until we know whether they noticed the impulse charge.” As the ship came about, Jim moved to the port wing and raised his glasses. First he looked aft, making sure the sharp turn wasn’t too much for the launch to follow; then he looked to Amagi as she appeared aft, beyond the funnels.
“Rudder amidships!” he called. Amagi was still clearly outlined, still busy with her terrible work. She’d taken no notice of what transpired to port. Jim focused the glasses more carefully, then clenched them in his hands.
“No!” he moaned. A Grik ship was slowly creeping up alongside Amagi, the black outline of its masts and sails beginning to obscure the stern of the Japanese ship. “How deep is that fish?” he shouted across the pilothouse. Sandison looked up in alarm and raced to his side.
“Ten feet, more or less.”
“Shit!” Everyone on the bridge was startled by Ellis’s uncharacteristic profanity.
“What?” Bernie asked, then he saw it too. The Grik ship was almost directly abeam of Amagi now. “Maybe it’ll pass under?” he said anxiously.
“Not a chance! Revenge drew thirteen feet, and they’re all about the same!” Jim didn’t stop to consider that, without her guns, the captured ship had drawn only slightly less than nine feet of water. The ship between Amagi and the torpedo was packed with hundreds of warriors, however. In the end, it didn’t make any difference. A brightly luminescent column of water snapped the Grik vessel in half, lifting the stern high in the air. The bow section was already half-submerged when the shattered stern crashed down upon it. A loud, muffled boom reached them across the distance, almost drowned by Amagi ’s next salvo. Jim turned to the helmsman and snarled: “Come about!”
Salissa was dying. All her tripod masts were down, and the pagodalike dwellings within them were a shambles. Fires raged unchecked in several portions of the ship, and only a few guns continued to belch defiance at the enemy. She’d been flooded heavily down so she might avoid major damage below the waterline, but she’d sunk much lower than intended now. Occasionally Keje felt her hull grinding against the bottom as the outgoing tide slowly dragged her across it. Before long she would truly rest on the bottom, one way or another, and the way things were going, there’d be no one left to pump her out.
Keje was sitting on his beloved wooden stool, which someone had brought to him when an enormous splinter of wood slashed his leg. He was still on the rampart-what was left of it-and expected that he had only minutes to live. The Grik had made no real attempt to board Big Sal as yet; they were too preoccupied trying to break through the wall, and it even looked like th
ey’d succeeded at a couple of points. Amagi had made that possible by knocking the wall flat. Somehow the Jaaps must have known they’d been successful and the ensuing salvos were only slaughtering their allies. That was when the mighty guns became devoted to demolishing Keje’s Home.
Keje had never seen Amagi before this night, and he’d been simply incapable of imagining her power. He knew the Amer-i-caans were afrBecause of that he’d known, intellectually, that the Japanese ship was a threat. But deep down, he realized now, he’d really had no idea. They’d been fools to stay and try to resist it! Fools. Cap-i-taan Reddy tried to warn them-to explain what they faced. But he’d been willing to stay and fight, and that had given them heart. Surely it couldn’t be that bad? Keje now knew it was. He’d stayed out of pride and disbelieving ignorance. Friendship too, and a sense of duty to his people, but mostly because he hadn’t truly known.
Alone, perhaps, among all the People now engaged in this apparently losing fight, Cap-i-taan Reddy and his Amer-i-caans had truly known what they faced. But instead of running, they’d elected to stay and defend their ignorant friends. Now, just as Salissa Home lay helpless under Amagi ’s onslaught, Walker lay helpless and burning out in the bay. Keje had no idea what had happened to Mahan, but he suspected the explosion beyond Amagi was probably the result of the weapon she’d been sent to deploy. If that was the case, all was truly lost, and he felt a terrible grief for his friends and his people. Some might get away through the jungle to the east, and perhaps Mahan might yet escape. But for Salissa and her little sister Walker, who’d come to her aid so long ago, Keje was convinced this would be their final fight. Fire blossomed once more from end to end of the massive enemy ship, and he listened to the shells approach. A sudden calm overcame him. At least he’d die with his ship. He hoped the souls of the destroyermen would find their way to wherever it was they belonged, but he also hoped he’d be able to thank them first-and tell them farewell.
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