Distant Thunders (5 page)

Matt frowned. “Look,” he said, “my point is, if they roll us up, they’ll keep going. Eventually they’ll find you too.”

“I’m confident you’ll make short work of them, Captain,” Jenks said, somewhat condescendingly, “if the carnage I saw on the little island where I met Mr. Gray is any indication.”

“That fight was against three ships, Jenks,” Gray growled. “
Hundreds
of ’em came here.”

“Hundreds of their ships,” Matt confirmed, “each filled with hundreds of their warriors. Creatures that look like Lawrence here, but who fight with swords and spears, and now cannons too.”

“I’m afraid that can be none of my concern, Captain.”

“Maybe not yet, but if we lose, it will be someday. Guaranteed.”

“Perhaps. What are you suggesting?” Jenks paused, his mustaches twitching over a smirk. “Surely not an alliance?”

“Essentially, yes.”

Jenks shook his head. “I
am
sorry, Captain Reddy, but that’s simply impossible. Our duty was to find the princess and we’ve done so. Her safety is thanks in large part to you, I confess, but our duty now is to return her where she belongs. I’m sensible to the possibility that your arguments may even have . . . merit, but I don’t have the authority to get involved. You must understand, my squadron has been engaged in this search for quite some time; time it has been unavailable for . . . other pressing duties. We have even suffered the loss of one of our number, to a leviathan”—he glanced curiously at Gray, as if wondering whether the Bosun had deliberately misled them when they met—“so I seriously don’t know what difference my three poor ships might make to your cause.” His face betrayed the belief that his “poor” ships would probably make quite a difference indeed. “In any event, even if I had the authority I’d be obliged to refuse. As I’ve clearly stated, my duty is to return Her Highness to the bosom of her family and no other consideration can prevail.”

Rebecca had listened with growing astonishment. Suddenly, she spoke and all eyes fell on her diminutive form. “Then
I
will give you something to consider,
Commodore
Jenks: I refuse to abandon my friends, my
saviors
, while it is in my power to aid them. They are not proposing an alliance only with
you
, you silly man. You already refused Mr. Gray’s request for aid when your small squadron might have made a difference. I have proposed they seek an alliance with our country!”

“Ridiculous!” erupted the other officer who’d spoken before, and Matt looked at him again. He wore a mustache much like Jenks’s, but so did many others. It seemed to be the style. Unlike the others, he seemed stuffed into his uniform and wore little braid. The braid was unique, though, the gold laced with red. It still struck Matt odd that an apparently comparatively junior member of Jenks’s staff would be allowed to speak so freely.

“Perhaps . . .” Rebecca sighed, regarding the man as well. “Perhaps honor
has
become so devalued in my absence. Nevertheless, I will seek an alliance on their behalf and ours. Not only is it the right thing to do after all they’ve done for me, but it’s the sensible course as well. They have dealt the Grik a terrible blow, but the Grik will recover. There will be no better chance to break them forever—before they eventually menace
us
. If we wait and my friends are lost, we will face them all alone and we cannot succeed in that.”

“But, Highness!” said Jenks. “Perhaps what you say is true, but I have no choice! I must get you safely home!”

“You do have a choice, Commodore. I have a choice.” She glared at the outspoken officer. “The Company may have stripped my family of most of its power, but the governor-emperor is still commander in chief. As the highest-ranking member of his household present, I can order you to help. You might refuse, but I tell you now, if you do, I . . . I will not accompany you home.”

“But, Your Highness!” Matt and Jenks both protested at once, but only Matt continued. “We appreciate it, but Jenks is right: we have to keep you safe. Sure, we could use his ships now while we’re . . . a little short . . . but his squadron will make little difference, in the end.”

Jenks bristled. “I assure you, sir . . .”

“Oh, knock it off! I know exactly what your ships can do, and as I said, we can always use the help. But you really don’t know what you’re up against.” Matt paused, struck by the irony of his argument. A moment ago, he’d been trying to convince Jenks to help. Now he was encouraging him to run away. He sighed. “Look, we want friendship between your people and ours . . . for a lot of reasons, not just this war. And no matter what you think, your three ships can’t make much difference in the campaign we’re preparing. How likely are we to remain friends with your people if you and the young lady are destroyed defending us?”

“It remains to be seen whether we are indeed destined to be friends,” Jenks replied, again glancing at Gray. “That is not my decision to make. For now . . . if—
if
—we join you, it will be solely because it is in the best interests of the Empire.”

“Of course we shall be friends!” Rebecca insisted. “We already are. Mr. Flynn and his submersible-boat sailors rescued us from the sea and shared all they had.”

Jenks looked at her, even more incredulous. What had she said? Clearly, there was still far more to the princess’s story.

Rebecca turned to Matt. “And our ships might make more difference than you think, Captain Reddy,” she protested. “There are several hundred armed Marines between them as well.”

“Armed with muskets, and with no experience fighting the Grik,” Matt mused aloud. He knew the girl had seen their own weapons, but wondered if she truly appreciated the qualitative difference. As an historian, he wasn’t sure muskets were much of an advantage over Grik arrows, either. They were probably more lethal and there might be a psychological effect, but arrows reloaded faster.

“Perhaps I might offer a compromise,” Courtney Bradford said, speaking for the first time.

“Excuse me,” Matt interrupted, risking embarrassing Jenks still further, but it was also possible they needed a brief pause to defuse the mounting tension. “May I present . . . the honorable Courtney Bradford, esquire.” Silva barely contained a snort. “He’s Minister of Science for the Allied powers. He also has broad diplomatic experience and influence.” He shrugged. “And I may as well present the others here. Chief Gray I think you know?” Jenks nodded and worked his jaw. Matt continued. “I understand Mr. Gray’s status may have been unclear during your previous meeting. We apparently share some of the same rank designations, and ‘chief bosun’s mate’ doesn’t reflect the extent of his responsibilities. He’s also my chief, personal armsman, and commands the Captain’s Guard. He’s not a commissioned officer, but he’s the highest-ranking noncommissioned officer in the Alliance. He has commanded detachments including commissioned officers, and in those situations he acts as my direct personal representative.”

He waited with some satisfaction while Jenks digested that. “Beside me is Keje-Fris-Ar.
Admiral
Keje-Fris-Ar. In addition to being High Chief of
Salissa
Home and a head of state in his own right, he’s assistant chief of naval operations and answers only to me in military matters. His people are not ‘Ape Folk.’ They call themselves Mi-Anaaka, but our term, ‘Lemurians,’ doesn’t offend them. They were once peaceful, unwarlike people. That’s probably how your histories remember them. They’ve since become some of the best warriors in the world. I wouldn’t call them Ape Folk if I were you, because that
does
offend them. I honestly don’t know why, since they’ve never seen an ape, but there it is.” Matt suddenly wondered if
Jenks
had ever seen an ape.
Later
. He started to introduce the other members of his party, but they weren’t officers. Besides, then he’d have to name Silva, and how would he describe him? The most depraved, dangerous human on the planet? He stifled a chuckle.

Jenks—somewhat reluctantly, it seemed—introduced his officers then. None smiled or offered his hand and most appeared to regard the entire party, the Lemurians in particular, with disdain. Matt dismissed them all as junior copies of Jenks—except the one who’d spoken up. His name was Billingsly, and judging from Rebecca’s distasteful glance, he decided to remember him.

“Now, Mr. Bradford, I apologize for the interruption. Please continue.”

“My dear,” Bradford continued, addressing Rebecca, “you once said when the time came for you to return home, you wanted us, Captain Reddy in particular, to take you. Do you still mean that?”

“Of course.”

“Very well. Then I propose that Captain Reddy and other dignitaries escort you home as soon as either
Walker
is . . . repaired . . . or other suitable ships are ready to take you.” Bradford realized Jenks knew about
Walker
, their “iron ship,” but doubted Captain Reddy was ready to admit that, right now, she was underwater. “That may take some months, but what is that compared to the time you have been gone, after all? The mission will be a diplomatic one with the goal of securing a true alliance. In the meantime, Jenks might dispatch one or two of his ships to bear the happy news of your rescue, but he and
Achilles
, at least, could remain here to augment our fleet until you are ready to leave.” He smiled. “That should certainly not interfere with his imperative of protecting you. He should then, of course, accompany you home. Hopefully to return here with reinforcements.” He glanced around owlishly. “What do you think?”

“I think this is all a waste of time,” Keje growled unexpectedly. He’d learned a lot about the curious face moving of humans and didn’t much care for what he saw. He looked at Matt. “They do not want to help us, and now that we have slaughtered the cream of the Grik horde, we have sufficient allies who do. Saan-Kakja has promised many thousands more of her warriors and artisans. Many who fled are now returning, eager to fight. Our fleet is rebuilding and we have more than sufficient iron for our needs, at least for now.” He turned back to Jenks. “You have apparently formed the mistaken assumption that we came to you today as supplicants. Not so. Now we have met, it matters little to me if you stay or go, but Adar, High Chief of Baalkpan, chairman and High Sky Priest of the Alliance, would meet with you. He desires friendship, true, but his primary interest in you is . . . historical. He is not naive. We will always welcome friends, but we will not suffer vipers in our midst.”

Matt was surprised by Keje’s outburst. Who had been warning whom about tempers?

Jenks was also taken aback, as much by Keje’s attitude as by his near-perfect command of English. And by what he said, of course. He scrutinized Keje. He’d met other Lemurians on the massive ship coming out from the Philippines. They’d all seemed glad to see him and treated his people with something akin to reverential awe. Just what he would have expected of the simple wogs he thought they were. Wogs extremely talented at building fantastic ships, but wogs. Now he wasn’t so sure. He didn’t think there was much chance of a real alliance—he glanced at Billingsly—particularly if the Company had anything to say about it. The very word “ally” was too closely associated with “equal partner,” and that was out of the question. However, perhaps an arrangement might be made. Besides, speaking of vipers, it might be a very good idea, in the interests of the Empire, for him to learn as much about this Alliance as he could. The Empire had enemies of its own, and though they were preoccupied for now, he suspected these Lemurians and their American friends might someday become formidable enemies indeed, if given reason enough—or allowed.

“Mr. Bradford has made an interesting proposal,” he said at last, carefully. “And it might provide the basis for negotiations. I would be . . . honored to meet with your chairman.” He glanced at Matt. “I have your word of safe conduct, of course?”

“Of course. We’ll escort you under the guns of the fort and provide you with an anchorage. Your people may even have liberty if you give your word they’ll behave themselves—and some parts of the city are off-limits. That’s not subject to discussion or debate at this point. Perhaps later. In the meantime, any of your people found screwing around in restricted areas will be shot. Understood?”

Jenks bristled again, but calmed himself. “Understood.” He turned to Billingsly. “I assume you will want to remain? Very well. Choose someone from your . . . department. He and Ensign Parr will transfer to
Agamemnon
and proceed home with the happy news about the princess.
Ajax
will remain here for now, with
Achilles
. I will draft orders and a brief dispatch.” He turned to Matt. “Is that acceptable?”

For some reason, Matt was hesitant. But that had been part of Bradford’s proposal, after all. “Sure.”

 

 

“We should have just sent him away with the promise we would bring the girl,” growled Keje quietly as the launch burbled back to
Donaghey
. “The girl” was still with them, having refused to part with her friends. She was distressed and confused by Jenks’s attitude, not to mention Billingsly’s presence. She didn’t know Billingsly, but she knew
what
he was. For now, she much preferred to remain among people she trusted unreservedly. That was what she’d whispered to Matt, and he wondered if Keje overheard or just picked up on it too. That might explain his sudden animosity.
Agamemnon
was already piling on sail and beginning to slant eastward. With the freshening breeze, her paddle wheels were free-spinning. “With Jenks hanging around here, he’ll see too much,” Keje added.

“Possibly.” Matt nodded at the Bosun. “Gray’s always been a pretty good judge of character and he said Jenks is an asshole.” He sighed resignedly. “Having met him, I’m inclined to agree. But Adar’s probably an even better judge. He won’t let his fascination with the ‘ones who came before’ cloud his judgment.”

Keje huffed noncommitally. Before ascending to his current lofty title, Adar had been Keje’s own High Sky Priest, and the two had been like brothers their entire lives. Keje knew Matt was right, but his own impression of Jenks had been very similar to Gray’s. He’d actually been surprised by that. According to Matt, his Amer-i-caans and Jenks’s people were related in some way. He supposed he’d expected them to behave more alike. Jenks’s reaction to Keje’s people’s situation couldn’t have been more different from that of Matt and his destroyermen.