Maelstrom

by Taylor Anderson

  Jim snorted. “All right, Skipper, but next time Mahan gets to play target while Walker puts the sneak on ’em. Fair’s fair. The boys are starting to feel left out—and sort of coddled.” Jim chuckled softly, but Matt knew his old exec was more serious than he seemed. The Mahans didn’t want to die any more than anyone else, but they did want to do their part. Many still felt tainted by the Kaufman incident, despite their recent success.

  “You bet, Jim. Next time.”

  “I guess it’s really come down to this, hasn’t it?” Sandra asked bitterly. Everyone looked at her questioningly, surprised by her tone. “You know, ‘win or lose, live or die’—probably die even if you win?”

  “It’s been that way from the start,” Matt said gently. “Ever since the Squall. In our old world, maybe it wasn’t so black-and-white. I guess you could always surrender—even to the Japs—but that won’t work here.” He took a breath. “So, yeah, it’s down to that, and it’s just that simple.”

  Sandra shivered in the warm hall. She knelt and gathered Rebecca in her arms. “Maybe, but it seems even worse when you joke about it.”

  Nakja-Mur cleared his throat, and everyone looked at him. “Well,” he said, “that’s decided, and well-done. I do have a request, if you will permit me, Cap-i-taan Reddy.”

  “Of course.”

  “Before you depart, would you share with us again your not ‘backup’ plan?”

  CHAPTER 10

  Tsalka glared across the water as Kurokawa’s launch returned to his ship. “You know, General, I still detest that creature.”

  General Esshk hissed agreement. “But he is useful. His iron ship is still slowed by damage, he says, but at least it floats evenly now.” He hissed amusement, remembering Kurokawa’s stormy indignation and fury toward their enemies after they blew another hole in his mighty ship almost four moons ago. “He is also highly motivated,” he added cryptically.

  “Their iron ship is wondrously powerful,” Tsalka agreed. “I will never forget the concussion of its great guns, and the damage it inflicted on the huge ship of the prey. Magnificent!”

  “Most impressive,” Esshk hedged. He gazed at the lumbering iron monstrosity. Black smoke belched from its middle as it burned the coal that somehow pushed it along. Despite its amazing power, he must not forget that the Tree Prey had friends who could damage it. It was ensconced deep within the protective embrace of the main body of the “Invincible Swarm” (as opposed to the previous, ill-fated Grand Swarm) to protect it from another surprise eottom.”

  “They’ll see them, won’t they?” questioned Hale.

  “Maybe,” Gray agreed. “But what are they gonna do about it? We’ll rig it so’s they can’t squeeze between ’em without hitting another. Top it off by putting out way more barrels than we have depth charges too. It’ll be just a matter of tying an anchor to ’em and heavin’ ’em over the side. That’s how we’ll leave a clear channel for Walker to come back through, without it lookin’ like there is one.”

  Newman looked thoughtful. “Might work,” he said. “Now I know why we’re on such a long cable, though. I guess we’re the ones setting the charges?”

  Gray nodded. “With this box of bombs, if one of ’em slips after we set it, the flashies won’t even find enough to make it worth their while.”

  Pete Alden stood on Nakja-Mur’s balcony with the High Chief of Baalkpan, Letts, Shinya, Bradford, and Sandra Tucker. The kid was off with O’Casey. The balcony made an ideal observation post from which they could see the vast panorama of the city’s bristling defenses in the late-afternoon sun. The regiments had been moved into their positions, and Big Sal was now moored by the shipyard dock. She had a spring in her cable so she could fire her augmented battery into the flank of any force trying to land there, or anywhere along the waterfront. Her sails were stowed, and like all the defenses, she held plenty of water barrels ready to defend against firebombs. Because it was such an obvious place for them to direct the battle, they’d already made plans to abandon the Great Hall if Amagi came into the bay. Even with high-rise dwellings all around, the Great Hall and its Sacred Tree stood out quite prominently. It would be a prime target for the battle cruiser’s initial salvos. Nakja-Mur was horrified that the Sacred Tree might be damaged, but there was nothing they could do to prevent it. Secondary command posts had been established in strategic locations.

  Karen Theimer had worked wonders setting up a central hospital and ambulance corps, and the surgeons and nurses who’d learned their trade with the Allied Expeditionary Force were now fully integrated into the system. Sandra was in overall command of the medical effort, from the central hospital. Karen was her exec, and the other nurses would supervise the two main field hospitals in north and south Baalkpan. Smaller aid stations were established near every defensive position, supervised by talented veterans such as Selass. Sandra hated that she wouldn’t be with Walker during the coming fight, but there was no question where she’d be most needed. Jamie Miller could care for any casualties the ship might have. Other than her personal feelings, she had no excuse to be aboard.

  Without Mahan’s generators to run the new transmitter, it had been stowed in a deep, safe bunker. Walker would remain in constant contact through light and flag signals, as well as the crystal receivers Riggs had constructed, which required almost no electricity. The experimental batteries they’d built had plenty of juice for them, so Matt could keep overall strategic command even while fighting his ship. Hopefully. Even if everything went exactly according to plan, however, Walker would be fighting for her life. Her exposure to the enemy was the part of the plan everythingmenell as her conviction that they had been a “couple of dopes” all along. She envied Karen her happiness and her ability to show open, natural affection for the one she loved.

  She suddenly realized someone had spoken to her. “What was that?” she asked, shaking her head.

  “Do you have any questions or requirements, Lieutenant Tucker?” Letts asked. Gone was the tongue-tied suitor of short months before. Alden would have command of the “land battle” they expected, but Letts was still acting as Captain Reddy’s chief of staff.

  “Uh, just the disposition of the child, Becky, and Mr. O’Casey.”

  “I thought you might keep the girl at the central hospital—what’s the dope on her, anyway?” Only Bradford and Nakja-Mur knew, and they didn’t answer. “Well, if you’ll do that, I’ll keep O’Casey with me. I’d like to see what he’s made of.”

  Sandra nodded. “Other than that, then, everything’s under control,” she said.

  “Good. Mr. Alden?”

  Pete shrugged. “We’re about as ready as we can be without reinforcements. Mahan signaled a few minutes ago that they’re nearly finished laying the mines.” He shook his head. “It’s a miracle nobody got blown up doing that. Otherwise, the only thing I have to add is that Lieutenant Riggs is finally satisfied with the visibility of the semaphore tower in Fort Atkinson. His guys on the southwest wall couldn’t see it through those last few trees and they cut them down. Oh, yeah, I sent Lord Rolak and the First Aryaal to reinforce the two hundred Sularans, and Mr. Brister’s artillery-men in the fort. I also think Shinya should command the independent force we talked about.”

  Letts nodded agreement. “That’s what the captain said too.”

  Pete looked at Shinya. Ever since he returned, not only from the trip to Manila, but from Aryaal with the AEF, Pete’s friend had been very quiet. “I want to deploy the First Marines, the Tenth Baalkpan, and the warriors from Aracca to a forward position defending the south and west approaches against any enemy landing.” He held up his hand. “You’re not to pull a Custer’s Last Stand, or some Jap equivalent! I don’t want you getting tangled up in anything you can’t handle. I mainly want you out there to keep some small force from coming ashore and cutting us off from the fort.”

  “The First Marines is under strength,” Shinya said absently. “They had losses at Tarakan and B’mbaado.”

 
; “Yeah, well, maybe we can fill ’em out with rifle-trained guys from the Second. Will you do it?”

  Very seriously, Shinya nodded, and Pete peered intently at him. “Say, you aren’t going to cut your guts out or anything if you have to pull back, are you?”

  Tamatsu chuckled. In spite of his mood, he was surprised by the question. “Not unless you tell me to. We don’t have the luxury of engaging in such selfish gestures. Besides, that would only increase whatever dishonor I might earn by retreating. It would give aid and comfort to the enemy by contributing to their commissary.” Everyone laughed at that, including Shinya. But then a strange expression="1em">

  “So that’s it, then?” Letts asked skeptically. Alden looked speculative but didn’t reply. “Nothing at all?”

  “Well, yes, actually,” said Courtney Bradford. He motioned to himself and Nakja-Mur. “What about us? What shall we do?”

  Letts looked at him, surprised. “I just assumed you’d help in the hospital. The way you’re always dissecting stuff—you certainly know how to handle a knife.”

  Bradford drew himself up. “My dear sir, as I’ve made no secret, I fancy myself something of a naturalist. It’s a hobby. I’ve a great deal of experience cutting things up, but virtually none putting them back together. Certainly you understand the difference? Of course you do!” He shook his head. “No, just give me a rifle—point me where you need me most, I say. Besides, my recent observations about Grik behavior might prove crucial.”

  “Trust me, Mr. Bradford, everybody’s up on your ‘observations,’ ” Pete interrupted. “But no offense; if things get bad enough we need your one rifle, we’ll all be bugging out! I’ll give you a Krag—but I’d consider it a personal favor if you’d use it to help guard the hospital. I’m sure Captain Reddy would appreciate it as well. Will you put yourself at Lieutenant Tucker’s service?”

  Bradford pursed his lips. “Well, if you insist on putting it like that . . .”

  “That still leaves me,” said Nakja-Mur. “I’ve grown old and fat, but I was a warrior once. Not much of one, I admit. This is the first time in the memory of the Scrolls that Baalkpan has ever faced war, but I should be defending my people.”

  “You are,” Letts assured him. “You’re leading your people, and your courage is an example to them, as well as us. Besides, I need you beside me throughout the battle. I may need your advice or skill at dealing with people. Also, if something happens to me, you’re the only one who can see the whole picture. You’ll have to step in as Captain Reddy’s chief of staff.”

  “Very well,” Nakja-Mur said somberly. “I accept. I will watch you closely to know what to do if that unfortunate event comes to pass. I pray it does not.”

  “Me too,” Alan Letts fervently agreed.

  One by one, Sandra, Bradford, and finally Nakja-Mur left the balcony to continue their preparations. Only Shinya and Alden remained. Pete suspected Tamatsu had been waiting to talk to him alone.

  “I will be honored to command the independent force,” he said at last, “but I wanted you to know I have been engaged in a struggle of . . . honor.”

  “I know,” Alden said simply. “Adar told me.”

  Shinya looked surprised. “And yet you still trust me to do this thing?”

  “Sure. Otherwise I wouldn’t have brought it upew moments ago, which side of the struggle would prevail. And yet you had no doubts?”

  “Nope.” Alden sighed. “Look, you said whatever was eating you was a matter of honor, right? I know you pretty well by now, I think. The honorable thing to do in this situation is pretty clear—as long as you’re not going to commit Harry-Carry.”

  A ghost of a smile crossed Shinya’s face, but he shook his head. “It isn’t that simple. I gave Captain Reddy my parole, and I’ve since engaged in numerous activities for the common good, I think. That wasn’t inconsistent with my concept of honor. This . . .” He paused. “This is different. If I continue to help you, even to the extent of aiding you against my own people, I will be committing treason in their eyes—and mine. Whatever the reason, and wherever we are, my people and yours are at war, Sergeant Alden.” He took off his hat and scratched his short hair. “However . . .” He stopped again. “Such an interesting word, don’t you think? ‘However.’ I wonder if it was ever intended to be so vague, yet so profound at the same time,” he mused darkly. “However, for whatever reason, Amagi’s commander supports the side of purest evil in this war. There can be no honorable explanation for that. On its face, that would seem to make my decision simpler, yet it does not. My people do not have the freedom to choose which policies of our government we will support. As far as Amagi ’s crew are concerned, ordinary seamen and junior officers—men like me—Amagi’s commanding officer is the direct representative of the emperor. Whatever has befallen them, they will follow him because of that, whether or not they believe he is right.” He searched Alden’s face for understanding. “You see it as misplaced obedience to a corrupt commander, and perhaps it is. But to my people, a commander’s dishonor does not reflect upon those under his command, as long as they follow his orders. Regardless of the commander’s motive, obeying him is the honorable thing for them to do. Do you see now why I have had such difficulty with this decision? Through their captain, the crew of Amagi have become tools of the Grik. Through their honorable service, they are assisting in the commission of evil. That’s the most tragic irony of all.

  “So you see, I have not been agonizing over which side is in the right; even from my different perspective, that is obvious. The decision I faced was whether to revert to my status of noncombatant parolee, or openly betray my people, whose honor has already been betrayed by their leader.” He took a deep breath. “I have made that decision. Perhaps my long association with Americans has corrupted me, but I begin to see that blind obedience to a dishonorable command can’t obviate the final, greatest responsibility of honor: to do the right thing. I grieve for my countrymen who have not realized that yet, but I cannot stand idly by.”

  “You Japs are so weird,” Alden said quietly. “No offense. What made you make up your mind?”

  Shinya considered. “First, it was my realization that, if the roles were reversed, and Walker had somehow come into association with the Grik, Captain Reddy would never have aided them as Amagi has. If he tried, the crew wouldn’t have supported him. The way the crew of Mahan finally decided they could no longer support Captain Kaufman, regardless of rank, is a good example. Then, when King Alcas ordered the surprise arom the Grik—collective guilt couldn’t fail to stain the perpetrators.”

  Alden nodded. “Now you know why we were so mad about Pearl Harbor.”

  Shinya grimaced. “Perhaps.” He looked out over the wind-ruffled bay. In the far distance was Mahan’s battered outline. The low-lying barges and toiling men and Lemurians were barely visible. Preparing.

  “In any event, as I said, I will be honored to command the independent force, if you still desire it. The duty will be heavy, should I face my countrymen. I cannot deny that. But it is also, clearly, my duty.” He paused. “As it is my duty to ask for the Second instead of the First Marines. You will need the riflemen as a reserve, whereas if I have to fight, it will be the shield wall and spears.”

  “All right,” Pete agreed, “and you’re right. Just remember your promise not to gut yourself if anything goes wrong.” They shared another small smile. “You know what you’re supposed to do. If things get too hairy, pull back to Fort Atkinson or the Baalkpan wall.” He shrugged. “They may not put anyone ashore there at all; flank attacks don’t seem their style. We rolled up their flanks time and again on B’mbaado, and it always took them by surprise. That stuff Mallory said about Tjilatjap keeps coming back to me, though, so keep your eyes peeled.”

  The sun was near the jungle horizon when the last cluster of barrels went into the dappled sea. As powerful as he was, Silva hurt all over from the backbreaking chore of manhandling the heavy depth charges. He tried to use his grimy T-
shirt to wipe the burning sweat from his eyes, but the shirt was so soaked it only made it worse. He glanced at the mouth of the bay. He was surprised Walker hadn’t returned and was struck by the irony of that. On the world they came from, she’d been an insignificant, expendable asset, a relic of an almost ancient war—in terms of technological advancement. She hadn’t been in the same league with her smallest modern counterparts in the Japanese Navy. Most of her sisters weren’t even frontline warships anymore; they’d been converted to seaplane or submarine tenders, minelayers, transports, even damage-control hulks. . . . Now Dennis was surprised she wasn’t already back from facing maybe a hundred enemy ships, with only three sailing frigates to assist her. Nobody else seemed to think it was a big deal either, and he guessed that was really more of a testament to their faith in her captain than the dilapidated ship herself. Still . . .

  Several times during the afternoon, they thought they heard the faint booming of Walker’s guns, and duller, rippling broadsides of muzzle-loading cannon. Maybe not. The wind was wrong, and the fighting had to be closer than they’d expected if it was so, but regardless, Walker and her little fleet were doing their job: buying the time they needed to finish their little surprise.