ANDERSON, TAYLOR - Crusade

“They won’t resist,” Queen Maraan assured him. “Not after yesterday.”

Matt hoped she was right and he tried to hide his skepticism. He knew how difficult it had been for Europe to accept the lessons of modern war that Americans learned during their own Civil War. “Second, I want every felucca in the fleet either transporting supplies from Baalkpan or scouting the coastlines for any further incursions by the enemy. If they’ve established other outposts—at Tjilatjap, for example—we must know about it immediately. We’ll also reconnoiter toward Singapore. Rick Tolson and Kas-Ra-Ar will assemble a small squadron of the fastest craft around Revenge for that purpose.” He looked at Rick. “Don’t push too hard. They have to expect us to check them out, but I don’t want them to expect an attack.”

“Understood, Captain.”

“I also want the wounded out.” He looked speculatively at his battle line commanders. “We should move them aboard a Home. Decide among yourselves which one it’ll be.” Matt had no doubt they would choose Fristar . Even now it was clear that the High Chiefs of the other Homes were avoiding Anai-Sa. His Home had lagged throughout the Battle of the Bay and had shown no initiative with her fire the following day. Adar told him that he doubted she’d fired a dozen times—as if Anai-Sa was hoarding his ammunition. “Whoever it is,” Matt continued, “must deliver the wounded and return here as quickly as possible with “I also ast, after the battle in the bay, but everything moved so quickly and besides”—he shrugged and gestured at the destroyer, which had completed her turn and was slowly approaching the dock—“I was just so glad to see you and that old ’can, the last thing I wanted to do was argue.” He frowned. “But that was before yesterday.” He glanced at Sandra for support and then looked to see if anyone else was in earshot. There was a general commotion and bustle all around, but the only ones close enough to hear were Gray, Rolak, and Chack.„ Currently, however, the Bosun and Matt’s new . . . whatever he was . . . were deep in discussion, with Chack translating for them. He sighed.

“Skipper, I really don’t think you should let yourself get caught up in any more desperate land battles, and I’d take it as a personal favor if you’d refrain.”

Both of Matt’s eyebrows rose then, but he managed a chuckle. “I had to be there, Jim. Nakja-Mur and all the High Chiefs put me in overall command. It would have looked pretty lousy if I wasn’t willing to face the same danger as those I was supposed to be leading. Hell, Keje was there.”

“Keje was there because you were there, and he almost got killed too,” Sandra pointed out.

“Well, you’re the one who so forcefully assured me I’m not indispensable,” Matt reminded her with a gentle smile.

“I lied,” she retorted. She wasn’t smiling. Matt’s grin faded and he looked at her intently for a moment. Jim seemed to be considering his words. When he spoke, at first it appeared he was changing the subject.

“When’s the last time the men got paid?” he asked. Matt blinked at the apparent non sequitur.

“Before we left the Philippines,” he answered guardedly.

“What do you suppose would have happened, before the War, if they’d gone that long without pay?”

Matt made a “what next” gesture, wondering when Jim would get to the point. But instead of Jim, Sandra spoke up. “What he’s trying to say is you are indispensable! After everything that’s happened; the War, the Squall, making an alliance with the Lemurians, and now this battle, Walker and her crew have continued to carry on and follow orders and do what you asked of them regardless of the fact that, besides her, and now Mahan thankfully, the United States Navy doesn’t exist anymore. Not to them. Even the country they fought for is gone. The only thing that’s kept everything together up to now is you. The possibility that the crew might not continue to follow orders never became an issue because you didn’t let it. You just continued ruthlessly on, as you always had, and made it clear you expected everyone else to do the same. The United States is gone, but Walker ’s their center, their core, their cause to cling to, and you’re the one who made that happen.” She rubbed her tired eyes. “Do you have any idea how fragile that is?”

“She’s right, Skipper,” Jim said solemnly. “If anything happened to you, it would probably all fall apart. I’m only beginning to learn what all you’ve managed to accomplish in Balikpapan. I mean, fuel, for Christ’s sake!” He took a deep breath. “I might be able to carry on for a time—at least I hope I could. I kind of doubt it, though. My command experience so far has been less than stellar. Or maybe Dowden or Letts could swing it for a while, or Bradford could keep things going. But if you’re lost, the unique relationship you’ve forged between Walker and the people here would be lostls of the city. “Hell, most of these people wouldn’t even talk to each other before you made them. Do you think they still would if you were gone? They see you as an honest, impartial broker. One who’s not caught up in their petty disputes. The way I see it, you’re the glue that’s holding this alliance together, and even adding to it.” Jim grunted in frustration. “Hell, when I got here with Mahan, I couldn’t even get the locals to talk to me.

“Besides,” he continued, “from a purely selfish perspective, think what it would do to the crew. You’re the last visible vestige of supreme authority they have left to cling to. The last physical connection to the world they’ve lost—to normalcy, I guess, and duty. They still follow your orders because you’re The Captain, and that’s the way it’s supposed to be. Even here.” Jim looked down at his feet for a moment, and then met Matt’s eyes again. “I like to think I could fill your shoes on the bridge someday, as far as seamanship is concerned. Believe me, I thought about that a lot over the last few months. Then I look at Walker, with her new paint job and fuel oil burning in her boilers and I see . . . guys . . . like Chack over there, filling out her crew. I see a ship that was whipped but has since become the most powerful ship in the world, more than likely.” He sighed. “I compare that to Mahan, which hasn’t done half of what you have since we split up, and she still looks whipped.”

“We were lucky,” Matt murmured.

“Maybe so, but that wasn’t all.” Jim stopped and rubbed his temples, but when he spoke again his expression was pained. “I don’t know if I could’ve stopped Kaufman or not. It never dawned on me that he’d try to take over the ship. Then, when he did, I never thought anyone would obey him, but they did. After what Mahan went through, it was hard to blame them, I guess. He sounded like he knew what he was doing when nobody else did, even me. But I’ve seen what happens when chaos and fear set in and a ship loses all sense of purpose and hope. I don’t want to see it again.”

Spanky McFarlane stood on Walker ’s fantail, hands on his skinny hips, peering down through the portside propeller-guard tubing at the water below. Occasionally, small waves lapped against it and disrupted the almost perfect, wine-bottle blue-green clarity of the bay. That itself would prove to somebody who just woke up that this wasn’t the cloudy, oily, Surabaya/Madura Bay they remembered. Through the occasional ripples, the sandy bottom was visible about thirty feet below, and between it and the surface, the growth-encrusted propeller shaft and support protruded far out beyond the line of the deck on which McFarlane stood. The only thing glaringly wrong with the view was the decidedly queer appearance of the now two-bladed screw. That, and the malevolent silvery shapes that glided and darted hopefully about.