Taylor Anderson - Iron Gray Sea

“Which face is that?” came Sandra’s soft voice, almost beside his ear. He turned his head toward her and looked into her eyes.

“Yours is better,” he said, and smacked his dry lips. Sandra was fully dressed but lying beside him on the skinny bed, with maybe a foot of it to herself. He wondered how long she’d been there.

“Chief Rueben had the duty,” she answered his unasked question, “but when I came to check on you, he was asleep and I didn’t want to wake him.”

“My ship?” he asked, and she nodded. “He helped Spanky get her in the floating dry dock.” She grinned. “And argued with Tabby like they were married the whole time.” Sandra screwed her face up and tried to recreate Isak’s weird voice. “You may be a engineerin’ loo-tinnit now, Tabby, but I recollect when you was pilin’ brontasarry turds on top o’ each other! This is my… GD dry dock!”

Matt tried to laugh, but winced. Sandra rose and felt his forehead with the back of her hand, then stood. “I’ll get you some water,” she said.

“I’d rather you stay here.”

A commotion in the hallway preceded Chief Gray’s arrival with a pitcher and a cup. Others were behind him, trying to pass, but Gray kept them back with his elbows. He paused in the doorway. “Visitors?” he growled.

Sandra shook her head. “Not yet. Saan-Kakja and the ambassador first. Maybe others later.” She motioned Gray forward with the pitcher.

Gray looked over his shoulder. “You heard the lady, you buncha savages! The Skipper requires further repose!” The crowd eased back down the hall, and Gray handed over the pitcher triumphantly.

“You too, Fitzhugh.”

As taken aback by Sandra’s use of his first name as by the dismissal, Gray backed out of the room.

Sandra turned back to Matt and poured water in the cup, then held it to his lips. “Slowly,” she said. “Just a few sips.” Matt obeyed, then looked at her. “Just us, just now, how bad is it?” he asked. His memory was returning, and he’d localized most of the pain to his right thigh and lower abdomen. Sandra took a breath.

“I nearly lost you,” she whispered. “Again.”

“Comes with the territory.”

“I know,” she said, soft but harsh. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.” She looked at him. “A fragment of steel-Spanky saw it later and is convinced it was a piece of a rivet. He blames himself.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, it went deep in your thigh and clipped the femoral artery. That was actually the worst of it, but we couldn’t find the fragment! It just kept going up-and we were afraid it got into your intestines. That’s why you’re split from just above the knee past your belt line. It actually did get past your pelvis, but stopped short of anything… else. Thank God. You’ll be very sore for a while!”

“Huh,” Matt said and looked under the sheet at the long, bandaged area. “Did you go ahead and take out my appendix while you had the hood up?”

“This is not funny,” Sandra snapped.

“No, it’s not,” Matt agreed. “Sorry. But it might have been a good idea…”

“I was busy! That fight killed some good men and Lemurians, and hurt a lot more. Carl Bashear was badly burned, and Ed Palmer had a broken collarbone and arm, and internal bleeding-”

“And we lost Norm Kutas,” Matt said, remembering. “Damn.”

“We lost Norm,” Sandra confirmed, “and nine Lemurians. It could have been much worse. Probably should have been. We were lucky.”

“Well. At least we got that Jap destroyer,” Matt said quietly. “That’s one less thing to worry about.”

Sandra hesitated, and his eyes narrowed. “We did get her, didn’t we?”

“Spanky is almost certain we did,” Sandra admitted.

“Almost?”

Sandra’s eyes flared. “Yes, almost! She was badly hit, she has no fuel or any way to get it, and even if she didn’t sink, she has nowhere to go! Ultimately, we did get her, whether we saw her sink or not, and your ship and your crew-not to mention you-needed immediate attention! Mr. McFarlane made the right call, and you need to tell him so! Between that and the faulty rivets, he thinks he let you down, and we-everybody-need Spanky at the top of his game right now.”

Matt was nodding. “You’re right,” he said.

“What?”

“I said, ‘You’re right’!”

A tentative smile touched Sandra’s lips. “Well. Of course I am.” She paused. “Saan-Kakja and Lord Forester will be back here soon, I’m sure. They met you when you came ashore, but I doubt you remember.” Her expression changed. “There have been a lot of developments, and no doubt they’ll want to hear your views. In the meantime, do you feel like eating anything?”

Saan-Kakja, Ambassador Forester, Chack, and Spanky arrived while Matt was eating a soft, colorless goo he couldn’t recognize, but which tasted something like tapioca pudding without the “fish eggs,” as he called them. After a short visit, they described the current situation in the east and west, and Matt had trouble finishing his meal. He was glad to see that the ambassador and Saan-Kakja seemed to like each other. That was going to be important.

“What are your plans, Your Excellency?” Matt asked Saan-Kakja.

“We must send everything we can to Generaal Aalden immediately!” she said. “His position is precarious, and the war in the east is stable for now.”

Matt was shaking his head.

“You do not agree?”

“With respect, I think you should stick to the plan. High Admiral Jenks has done well, but if you interrupt his supply line now, it’ll take many more months to amass the combat power he needs to take the war to the Doms, and we have to keep them off balance. The Grik are the greatest short-term threat, but the Doms will catch up if we give them too much time.” He looked at Forester. “I’m sure you would agree.”

Forester nodded reluctantly. “The situation in the Empire remains unstable, though the Governor-Empress has made great strides.” He looked at Saan-Kakja. “Your continued support and clear dedication to the war in the east will further strengthen her position. Like you, I yearn to aid your General Alden in this time of trial, but I would actually rather send Imperial troops to do it than give anyone in my country the mistaken impression that your resolve there is weakening.”

Saan-Kakja was blinking hesitant agreement. “Perhaps. I would like to see more Imperial troops in the war against the Grik, and I do not want to even seem to be wavering in my support for my sister, Rebeccaa.” She jerked a nod. “It will be as you say, Mr. Ambaas-a-dor. The Fil-pin Lands will continue to concentrate our efforts in the east-but in exchange, I do want more Imperiaal troops brought here, and then committed in the west.”

“Very well,” Forester said. “I’m sure the Governor-Empress will happily agree. We are in this war together, and the more of it we fight together, the stronger I think we will be.”

“But… What about Generaal Aalden?” Chack asked. “He must be reinforced.”

“He will be,” Matt said. “You can count on it. First Fleet took a beating, but it wasn’t wrecked-and I’ll bet the guys and gals on Andaman and in Baalkpan have already figured out a few surprises to counter the latest Grik stunts. I’ve got a few ideas myself.” He looked thoughtful, and shifted the pillows that kept him propped up. Sandra saw his difficulty and helped. He smiled at her. “What’s the status of the regiment you’re raising here?” he asked Chack.

“It is not ready for combat. The new weapons are only now being issued, and the troops must grow familiar with them.” He shrugged. “So must I.”

“And Risa’s regiment in Baalkpan?”