Granted, she told herself grimly, he’d probably be dead now if he hadn’t come, along with maybe three thousand wounded men and ’Cats who went down with Amerika. But if it helps Diania pass the time, why not encourage her to think about other things, hope for something else? She patted the pack beside her. It makes me feel better, imagining what I can do with what’s in there, and hoping I get a chance to use it.
The lock clattered and the door banged open. Outside, a Japanese officer stood in the light of the setting sun. He was holding a white handkerchief over his nose, and instead of Grik guards, he had a pair of armed Japanese sailors. If they had Grik with them this time, they’d stayed out of view. Brusquely, the officer motioned the women to their feet. “You come!” he shouted.
Sandra glanced at the bag and picked it up as she stood, berating herself for not hiding its important content on her person sooner. Perhaps I still can? All I can do is try.
“Stay that here,” the man stressed. “Not change place. Come back.”
Sandra nodded exaggeratedly, turning slightly away and staring in the bag as if wondering if she’d ever see it again, regardless of what the officer said. Finally, she took what she hoped looked like a wistful breath and tossed the bag on the wooden floor. No one saw her secret a very small .380 Colt pistol in her waistband as she made a show of tucking her filthy shirt in her dungarees. For once, the gloom in their cell and the sharp, bright sunset worked to her advantage. “Let’s go, Diania,” Sandra said, her tone dripping scorn at their captors. “We may as well do as they say. No sense frightening them by resisting.”
Apparently, the Japanese officer understood more English than he spoke because his eyes narrowed and he drew back a hand to strike Sandra across the face. With a supreme effort, he controlled his impulse and grabbed Sandra’s wrist instead, wrenching her bodily out of the cell. Diania crouched to spring, but Sandra quickly shook her head. “No, Diania!” She had no doubt the tiny wildcat could disable one guard, maybe two, who’d be caught completely by surprise. And Sandra was pretty confident she could take out the abusive officer quickly enough to assist her friend with the third man, but now wasn’t the time. It was still daylight, men and Grik were watching, and they had no plan at all. They’d be recaptured, if not killed, and any future attempt would be far more difficult. Best let their captors continue to underestimate them. “Let’s just find out what they want, sweetheart,” Sandra said more softly. Reluctantly, Diania stepped forward and allowed herself to be seized by one of the sailors. Sandra was interested to see that the man took Diania’s wrist much more gently than the officer had taken hers.
Their escort marched them briskly down a tree-covered path toward the harbor, the same they’d used when first taken to their cell. The first thing Sandra noticed—besides Savoie’s huge, brooding shape secured to the pier, its big guns bristling in what seemed all directions—was that the force Kurokawa had apparently brought back was considerably smaller than Muriname told her he’d set out with. Several more of the former Grik ironclad battlewagons were still under conversion to aircraft carriers at the extensive shipyards Kurokawa had established here, but they’d been there when Sandra and her friends arrived. None appeared much closer to completion. Their armored casemates and guns had already been removed when Sandra saw them last, leaving their hulls floating high in the water. The framing for their flight decks had begun and they rode a little lower, so she assumed their engineering plants had been the focus of alteration. Either way, they clearly remained weeks, at least, from readiness, and only one of the three finished carriers Kurokawa took to strike TF Alden was moored in the bay. Several of the returned ironclad steam “cruisers” looked a little battered as well. She prayed that meant TF Alden, with all its planes, new weapons, ammunition, and reinforcements, had bulled through to Matt on Mada-gaas-gar and decisively kicked Kurokawa’s ass.
She shook her head to clear her mind as they passed through a palisade surrounding a large building, carefully camouflaged from the sky, and stepped on a rough-hewn porch. She suspected she’d need all her wits to leave this building alive, and, just as important, steer the enemy’s thoughts in the direction she wanted them to go. A door stood open, allowing the evening breeze to cool the interior, but the senior guard stopped and knocked respectfully.
“Bring them in,” came an almost . . . cheerful voice Sandra didn’t recognize, touched only lightly with an accent. Muriname had warned her about Kurokawa’s mood swings and volcanic temper. She’d watch for signs he was losing it—and would redirect it if she could. She couldn’t help wondering what had him in such a good mood, however, and the possibilities made her wary. The guards pushed her and Diania into the room and Sandra was surprised by the contrasting decor. The walls were rough wood, like the rest of the building, but a richly woven rug, probably a tapestry taken from some seagoing Lemurian Home, covered the timber floor. Colorful curtains swayed with the breeze beside broad, glassless windows on the seaward side of the room, and a great, carefully crafted wooden desk dominated the space in front of smaller windows in the wall to landward. General of the Sky Hideki Muriname stood to one side of the desk, peering through wire-framed glasses perched on his nose, his prematurely bald head glistening in the light of lamps spaced around the walls. He was frowning, his hungry leer no doubt tempered by how filthy they were. He actually raised a white handkerchief of his own near his nose before he caught himself.
They sure have a lot of those white hankies, Sandra thought, distracted by the notion, but her gaze went to a short, roundish man with an equally round face sitting behind the desk. His uniform was immaculate, and though reminiscent of those worn by naval officers of the Japanese Imperial Navy, was decorated with all sorts of fanciful medals, devices, and colorful ribbons. It was so ridiculously ostentatious, in fact, that she had to force herself not to snort with amusement. Surely even he can’t take all that seriously, she thought. But maybe he does, she reconsidered. He probably did it to impress his Grik allies, at first, but by all accounts—even Muriname’s—Kurokawa is quite mad. Best not antagonize him. At least over something like that, she amended.
Kurokawa alone seemed immune to their reek and appearance, and his expression was almost . . . benign as he stood from the chair behind his desk, regarding her and Diania with keen interest. His slightly bulging eyes focused on Sandra. “Ah,” he said. “I finally have the honor of meeting the ‘great healer’ of the Alliance.” He spoke with a growing note of sarcasm, lips stretched in a thin line across his small teeth. “How unfortunate that you cannot heal the reverse your cause recently suffered north of Mahe Island, or”—he actually began to smile—“the apparent loss of both your husband’s puny destroyers.”
Sandra felt her bones turn to fire. He’s lying! she screamed inside, but managed to control herself, even affecting a confused expression. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. My companions and I were confined by murderers representing the League of Tripoli, as you know full well”—she jerked her head toward the battleship docked less than a quarter mile away—“and then by your people here.” She glared at Muriname. “If you fought a battle against my husband’s fleet, this is the first I’ve heard of it.” She stood straighter. “And it looks like your fleet needs a little healing,” she said, then added, “so I’m not sure I’d be so confident you achieved all you think you did, if I were you.” With that jab, she saw the flames of fury flicker behind Kurokawa’s eyes, but he retained his composure.
“In that case, I will happily describe the action,” Kurokawa said, turning to pace behind his desk. “It’s not as if you can make use of the information, after all.” He abruptly stopped and regarded her anxiously. “Would you like refreshment?” When Sandra didn’t reply immediately, his lip curled in a satisfied sneer. “I apologize for not asking you to seat yourselves, but I must preserve the furniture. It’s so difficult to obtain these days. In the future, you’ll take better care to come before me mor
e appropriately attired.” The impossibility of his demand seemed to amuse him and he began to pace once more. “True,” he continued. “We lost two of our carriers and a few insignificant auxiliaries, while your husband lost not only Baalkpan Bay, a heavy fleet carrier, if I’m not mistaken, but also some sort of immense seaplane tender built from one of the Grik dreadnaughts we abandoned at Madras. Those sinkings are confirmed, as are those of at least a dozen support ships—vessels whose loss will leave your forces on Madagascar feeling a distinct pinch, I assure you. Particularly with General Esshk and his Grik hordes preparing to cross the channel from the mainland of Africa and crush your ridiculously overextended force. Esshk’s new swarm is so numerous it makes all his previous armies pale to insignificance! Furthermore, as I said, I have reliable reports of grievous hits made upon both your husband’s ‘modern’ destroyers, Walker and Mahan. At least one couldn’t have survived, given the extent of her damage. You’ll pardon me if I choose to revel in the possibility that it was your husband’s Walker.”
Sandra’s mind whirled. Mahan was still laid up at Madras, the last she heard. And Walker couldn’t have been with TF Alden; Matt wouldn’t have seen the need to meet it with his own damaged ship when the task force was protected by two brand-new destroyers, just delivered and virtually identical to Walker. So, despite all the intelligence the League of Tripoli leaked to Kurokawa, he—and they—hadn’t known about the new DDs. She felt sick to think they might already be lost, in addition to Baalkpan Bay and the rest, but at least she was morally certain Kurokawa was wrong about Walker—and Matt.
“I wouldn’t count on that,” she whispered.
“I won’t,” Kurokawa snapped, his tone deadly serious, no longer gloating. “Despite the fact I must destroy him, your husband has earned my grudging respect for all he has accomplished with so little.” He waved around him. “As have I. And I will never underestimate him again. But the balance of power, in this theater at least, has finally shifted in my favor. Yes,” he added, noting Diania’s surprise, “I know all about your war with the Dominion in the Americas.”
Sandra did snort then. “We still have two carriers to your one, with more on the way, and whether our destroyers were sunk or not, our steam frigates are a match for your so-called cruisers. I didn’t hear all that many planes fly ashore this morning either, so you obviously lost a lot of those, as well as pilots. How do you figure you’re on top?”
“Simple, my dear Lady Sandra,” Kurokawa said, using the title the Imperials had given her, probably as yet another means of showing how much he knew. In fact, Sandra got the distinct impression this entire meeting was little more than an opportunity to boast to her, the next best thing to having Captain Reddy himself. “Your forces on Madagascar will soon have all they can deal with once the Grik attack in earnest. My air force is . . . depleted, but I’ll soon make up my losses in quantity”—he smiled—“and quality. Lastly, I noted you didn’t mention the converted freighter, the Santa Catalina, your people armed and styled a protected cruiser. Do you honestly believe she can match Savoie, after my people have time to familiarize themselves with her? You’re not that stupid.” He bestowed a gleeful smile on Muriname.
“And how long will that take?” Sandra glanced at Muriname as well, gauging his reaction. “How many of Savoie’s people stayed behind? Not many, I guess. And how many Amagi sailors do you have left, not flying planes, supervising factories and shipyards, or commanding ships? They must be spread awful thin. I don’t know much,” she confessed, “but I imagine properly operating Savoie, with her sophisticated equipment and modern weapons, will be a lot harder than your crude ironclads with muzzle-loading guns.”
She could tell her shot hit home with Muriname, at least, when he frowned and blinked rapidly behind his glasses. Kurokawa’s eyes bulged slightly more and his face reddened, but he didn’t respond. “So,” Sandra continued, getting down to it, absently adjusting her shirttail with one hand—near the Colt—while resting the other on the bulge in her belly that was finally beginning to show. “What will you do with us? Diania and I, and the two men and four Lemurians you’re holding?”
“That depends a great deal upon you,” Kurokawa said simply. “I have uses for you all, of course. Not all equally pleasant. For instance, it’s been a great while since I, or the more than three hundred real men it remains my honor to command, have enjoyed the company of a woman.” Sandra took a step back, horrified, but Kurokawa nodded at her belly. “You’re pregnant. And though you carry the child of my greatest enemy, I’m not a monster.” He swiveled his head to regard Diania. “Your servant, on the other hand, is not pregnant, is she?” He glared back at Sandra and she saw the fury in his eyes again. “To preserve her and your friends from any number of unpleasant fates I might imagine, you’ll tell me what I want to know.”
“You are a monster,” Sandra breathed softly, noting that Kurokawa actually looked strangely disturbed to hear her say it. For some reason, possibly because of his expression, she left the little Colt where it was and allowed her hand to fall to her side. “I have no illusions about that,” she said more loudly. “But you already know as much as I could tell you. More, probably, with the League whispering in your ear. What else is there?”
“The League,” Kurokawa spat, “cares nothing for me except insofar as I might advance their own murky agenda. They give me information and they gave me Savoie, true. There are even . . . other ways in which they’ll still aid me. But what I want to know is, if Captain Reddy still lives, what will he do when he discovers I have you?” He leaned forward expectantly.
Sandra glanced at Diania, frowned, and finally shrugged. “There was a time when he would’ve started a war to save me. He kind of did, in a way. That’s how we wound up involved in the Imperial’s war against the Dominion—all because I was incidentally abducted along with the heir to the throne of the Empire of the New Britain Isles, and Matt thought certain people were holding us.” She looked Kurokawa directly in the eye. “The thing is, he would’ve done the same even if they’d only taken the Governor-Empress, because she was under our protection”— she shrugged again—“and I would’ve absolutely supported his decision. As it turned out, we’d already escaped. But that didn’t stop him. Not even a brand-new war, while we were already up to our necks fighting you and the Grik, made a difference to him, because it was the right thing to do. If that Matt Reddy knew you had us, and Adar and me in particular, he’d come at you with everything he had.” She shook her head. “I doubt that’s any secret to you. Now?” she said quietly. “He’s changed. He’s changed a lot. He loves me just as much, I don’t doubt that, but he’s grown . . . harder than that.”
“Harder?” Kurokawa demanded. “Like me?”
“He’s nothing like you,” Sandra snarled contemptuously. “The difference is, now he’s hard enough not to drop everything and come right after us. After you. He’s grown hard enough to lose us, to take the hit and keep on fighting, regardless of the cost to me or any of the others.” Her blue eyes turned as remorseless as the sea. “And if you hurt us, any of us, he will kill you, make no mistake. But he’ll do it in his time, and won’t waste lives. That’s the most important thing to him now. This war’s cost him—cost us all—so much that he just wants it over. But he also wants it won. So he’ll leave me here until it is, if he has to, but then he’ll come for me.” She gave Diania a gentle glance. “He’ll come for all of us. But most important, he’ll come for you, even if all he gets is revenge.”
“And if I tell him I have you? That I’ll kill you if he does not come?” Kurokawa demanded, eyes searching hers.
There it was. Unknowingly, he’d finally confirmed her suspicion that, despite all the battles fought across half this wildly mysterious world over the past two and a half years, no matter how many other enemies—and friends—joined the struggle, regardless how many murky threats loomed on the horizon, the whole vast, impersonal war he’d helped fuel a
nd feed with blood remained profoundly personal to Hisashi Kurokawa. There’d been little question in Sandra’s mind that he’d try to use her and their unborn child against Matt, to bring on what he apparently wanted most: a final confrontation between them. Unfortunately, despite what she’d said, she could imagine nothing that would focus her husband’s rage more destructively and perhaps disastrously at this critical time, and Kurokawa was likely to get his wish.
“His retribution will only be more terrible,” Sandra said, staring back with all the defiance she could muster. “But killing us won’t bring it any quicker,” she lied. “You just don’t get it, do you?” she asked, her tone filled with wonder as she returned to the absolute truth. “You fight only for yourself, to destroy. He’s fighting to save a race of people, maybe the whole damn world! He’s idealistic, don’t you see?” Tears welled up in her eyes and she wiped them with her grimy sleeve and looked away. “Next to that, my fate’s nothing in the short term,” she whispered with as much conviction as she could summon. “But in the long term, whatever you do to me, to us, it won’t be as bad as what he does to you.”
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