«That’s a good point, Mr. Bradford, although war can certainly force you to make some awfully unusual friends. Uncle Joe’s no saint.»
«True, but Stalin shared with us the dubious distinction of being one of the Attacked, not the Attacker. In this instance at least. I won’t belabor Poland, or mention Finland for the moment.» He crossed his arms on the table and laid his head down. He wore no hat, and a long wisp of thinning hair trailed down almost into his cup. «I just miss my boy,» he said at last.
«I understand,» Matt said around a lump that had formed in his own throat. «I miss my folks. I wonder sometimes how they are and what they’re doing. As far as they know, we’re dead. It’s pretty tough sometimes.» Bradford raised his head and looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. «Everyone aboard must feel the same way,» Matt continued. He gestured at the cup, and by inference, what had been in it before. «But we can’t find solace in that. If we do, we lose.» He shrugged. «We might lose anyway, but we owe it to our people here on Walker, as well as our new friends, to do our very best, and wallowing in booze and self-pity’s not the way.» Bradford’s eyes flared with anger, but Matt continued on. «The war back home will be won or lost — there’s nothing we can do about that. I hope your son survives, but if he doesn’t, he’ll have died for a good cause that he actually chose. In the meantime, we have our own war to fight, against an enemy that’s just as bad as Hitler — maybe worse in a way — and our odds of survival are even worse as well. But we have to go on — not only for ourselves but for the people who trust us. Human and Lemurian.»
Bradford’s anger had disappeared and he sat staring at his hands. «What do you want from me?» he asked quietly.
«Ease off on your ‘tots,’ " Matt replied. «Other than that, what I want you to do — what I need you to do — is to keep on being the same cheerful, irreverent, awkward — brilliant — pain in the ass you’ve been since the day you came aboard. The men — our allies too — like you, Courtney, and they count on you in ways you can’t imagine. I do too. If they think you’ve lost hope, then they might too.» He stood.
«I came down here wondering what I was forgetting, what I’ve neglected to do with everything else that’s been going on. I just realized what it was. Sometimes, even when we’re in a group, people get to feeling like they’re all alone. It’s like you’re sitting on the track and there’s a freight train headed your way and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. All you can do is look around and hope somebody knows what the hell they’re doing. Even while the train’s bearing down, you gain strength from your comrades, not only from their courage but from the realization that you’re not the only one that’s scared to death. At the same time, you on your ‘tEarl beamed. Unhurried, Matt transferred it to his still-immobilized left hand and, munching on the first one, he continued aft.
«You idiot!» Earl cursed quietly and slapped Mertz on the side of the head. «It’s a good thing the captain likes my cookin’ or you’d be in a hell of a mess.»
«But you told me to pick it up!» Ray protested.
«I didn’t tell you to give it to the captain!»
Matt heard the exchange and a genuine smile replaced the false one he had worn. In spite of everything, he thought again, some things never change. He passed the number one torpedo mount, where some ’Cat and human torpedomen were checking the pressure in the air flasks and accumulators. The flasks had been empty for the last few months — which was customary when the torpedoes weren’t needed. Now they were full. Sandison had asked him that morning if he could perform quarterly maintenance on the operable fish and Matt agreed, so long as all three would be ready when Walker got under way. By the time he reached the number four mount, he could already hear Spanky’s curses from the fantail. The engineer and the Bosun were supervising their respective divisions in — hopefully — the final process of installing the propeller. Gray’s men were trying to keep the sail tight against the hull so no flashies could get past and Spanky’s snipes were controlling the now submerged screw with taglines. A heavy cable descended into the water from a makeshift boom, down between the supports for the propeller guard, and Dean Laney was reluctantly preparing to go back into the water. Astern, a far more orderly procession than the night before was mounting the ramp onto Aracca’s deck and a smoky haze had descended from the nearby burning city.
It was already warming up and Spanky wiped sweat from his brow. He was vigorously chewing a quid of something that caused a distinct bulge in his cheek. «What’s that in your mouth?» Matt asked.
Surprised, Spanky turned and saw the captain. «Good morning, Skipper,» he said and saluted with a grimy hand. He shifted his chaw speculatively. «I’m not rightly sure. Something Chack came up with. He said it was ‘courtesy of King Rasik.’ They use it for some kind of holy stink-weed or something hereabouts. It looks like a yellow tomato leaf, but it sorta tastes like tobacco.» He shrugged. «Anyway, some of his boys were poking around near the palace and found a warehouse full of the stuff. They sent down what must be a ton of it last night.»
«Has it made anybody sick?»
«Silva’s been chewing it steady, ever since it came aboard, and he’s okay so far.»
Matt chuckled. «I’m surprised Silva would chew anything Chack recommended — after last time.»
Spanky joined him in a laugh. «So you knew about that?»
«Of course.» Matt grinned.
Chack had Silva chewing every dead leaf he could find, trying to find some replacement for his precious tobacco. The process left Dennis ill enough to waste a shell on an easy shot against a Grik ship. Silva did not endure ridicule gladly, and Matt was certain that was when the scheme between Risa and Silva — to embarrass Chack — had been hatched.
«Maybe with a real, good-faith tobacco substitute, Silva will forgive Chack and quit pretending to carry on with his sister. I need Chack sharp, and I know that drives him nuts.»
Spanky nodded vigorously. It drove him nuts too and he was almost sure Silva wasn’t pretending. «Order ’em to stay away from each other,» he urged.
«Can’t. Other than Chack, the ’Cats don’t think it’s a big deal even if they are.» He shuddered. «And I can’t start giving orders against fraternization between our people. We need each other too much.» Matt fumed. «Besides, then that bastard Silva would have won. He would’ve forced me to call his bluff. No. He can put more significance and meaning in an arched eyebrow» He snorted a laugh, his face red, and shook his head. He gestured at the work with his second sandwich in his hand. «How’s it going?»
«Slower than I’d hoped,» Spanky replied, glad to change the subject. «But we’ll have it shipped by this afternoon. The screw is almost in position. Once it’s there, we slide it on the shaft and bolt it down. Easy as pie in dry dock, but a little more involved under the circumstances.»
«That’s cutting it pretty close. If the enemy scout ahead, some of them could be here by tonight.»
Spanky’s expression grew solemn. «Yes, sir. We’re going as fast as we can.»
Matt patted him on the arm. «Of course you are.» He looked ashore, at the teeming mass of Lemurians waiting to board Aracca. The haze was thicker toward Aryaal, although the massive fires of the night before had dwindled. To the northeast, B’mbaado City was engulfed in flames. It looked like hell, and it was all so very familiar. Less than a year ago, they’d steamed out of what the maps showed as this very bay in the face of an overwhelming invasion. Of course, somehow that happened in an entirely different world. Regardless, the sense of impending doom was very much the same. Also, fantastically, it was once again the Japanese they were running from. It was as though Walker was condemned to repeat the same event in increasingly warped realities, over and over until the end of time. Or until fate finally caught up with her.