Taylor Anderson - Iron Gray Sea

There was a knock on the great door that led to the dining chamber, and another servant went to investigate the cause.

“We don’t consider Lawrence a ‘creature’ anymore, Your Excellency,” Matt explained mildly. “He’s a Tagranesi… well, Sa’aaran, now, and if his Grik cousins are capable of achieving his level of intelligence, we’ve got a lot to worry about.”

The servant hurried over to stand beside the governor, a frown on his face, and waited for Radcliff’s attention.

“Yes, yes. What is it, Gomez?”

The dark-skinned servant, probably a descendant of the Spanish/Indian mix in the Dominion, handed over a bifolded page sealed with wax. “Which it’s a dispatch from the Allied wireless station, Guv’ner,” he said with a typical Imperial accent. “An’ it’s marked ‘urgent,’ as ye can see. Yer orders are never ta delay d’livery o’ such.”

“Indeed, indeed,” Radcliff replied, taking the folded square. After a brief hesitation, he offered it to Matt. “It’s most likely meant for you, after all.”

“Go ahead, Your Excellency,” Matt said, but his chest tightened. It was his sad experience that urgent communications rarely carried good news.

Radcliff nodded and broke the seal, then unfolded the sheet and held it at arm’s length to better see the words. The diners around the table were silent now, watching with curiosity. Matt’s stomach churned with dread when he saw the governor’s growing frown. Without a word, Radcliff passed the message across and Matt looked at it. Sandra caught her breath when she saw the expression forming on his face as he read, and she put her hands on his shoulder. Finally, he looked up and his gaze was bleak.

“Well, it’s started in the west. Alden has invaded India and has a solid beachhead at Madras. First and Second Corps are pushing inland, and Third Corps has crossed from Ceylon in the south. So far, the Grik are on the run.” He paused and there was a spatter of applause, but Matt’s tone didn’t reflect the good news. He continued.

“A little closer at hand, it would seem Commander Sato Okada’s Mizuki Maru, the armed… freighter that Saan-Kakja sent after the Jap tin can Hidoiame, met the enemy… and was apparently lost with all hands.”

Sandra gasped and Gray cursed aloud.

“Where… when?” Chack asked.

“The Sea of Japan.” He waved the sheet. “The position’s here. ‘When’ was almost a month ago!”

“But… why wait until now to tell us?” Sandra demanded.

“Because we were too far away to do anything about it, and Saan-Kakja’s fully aware of our damage and our weapons limitations,” Matt answered bitterly. “She probably didn’t want us to push things and hoped she could handle it on her own. Three ships sent to the last known position to search for survivors didn’t return, and the only one with a transmitter reported being under attack before contact was lost. Several squadrons of ‘Nancys’ were sent to locate the enemy. One squadron actually found her and bombed her, but no damage was seen-and four of the six planes were shot down!”

“Oh, my God!” Sandra whispered, her hand over her mouth.

“Nancys,” or PB-1Bs were single-engine floatplanes that looked like miniature versions of a PBY Catalina, and they were the current backbone of the Allied air arm. More advanced aircraft were in the works, but “Nancys” had proven to be reliable and versatile little planes. Each had a crew of two.

“The only good thing, I guess,” Matt continued, “is that nobody reported seeing the destroyer’s tanker consort, and she can’t go far without her. She probably ran around for a while trying to throw us off the trail to where the tanker is-but now she’s going to have to find someplace else to hole up, and she’s got to get her tanker and maybe break down and pack up whatever shore installations they’ve spent irreplaceable resources on first!”

“That could take some time,” Gray said, scratching the stubble on his chin. They finally had razors again, and Matt wasn’t the only clean-shaven human in the Alliance anymore.

“Yes,” Chack said, “and we know where they must be!”

“ If Okada was right and they really did set up around where Sapporo ought to be… Damn, I need a chart!” Matt said. The Imperials knew almost nothing of that region. “Governor Radcliff, could I trouble you to send a runner to my ship? Or maybe to Lieutenant Haan’s Finir-Pel? His charts may be more up to date than Walker ’s. If we can compare where Hidoiame was last seen to where we suspect her base might be, maybe we can catch her before she scoots!”

“What are you talking about?” Sandra suddenly demanded, looking at Matt with stormy eyes. “ You’re not going after her!” The Imperials around the table were visibly shocked by her outburst, but Matt just looked at her. “It’s not that you shouldn’t go or I don’t want you to,” Sandra continued. “That’s true enough. But I forbid it because you can’t!”

“You forbid?” Matt demanded, eyes wide.

Sandra stood and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “Yes! As Medical Officer of USS Walker and Minister of Medicine for the Allied Powers, I declare you, your ship, and her crew unfit to pursue Hidoiame! None of you are sufficiently recovered from your wounds, physical and psychological, and you have neither the strength nor material means to accomplish the mission!”

“Shit!” murmured Silva, too loud again, in a tone that showed admiration for her angle, if not her message. “Look at her go!” The Bosun, face purple, made a savage “cut it” gesture at him.

“I and I alone am the judge of whether or not my ship is fit for action!” Matt said coldly.

“And I say that if you intend to pursue Hidoiame at this time without the rest your crew needs and the refit your ship requires, then your judgment must be impaired by exhaustion, Captain Reddy! You can’t be everywhere at once. You and your crew, your ship, have been too close to the fire for too long, and sooner or later it’s going to burn you up! You know that yourself, but if you can’t see that going after Hidoiame will turn ‘sooner’ into ‘now, ’ then you can’t be thinking clearly! She’s a new ship-faster, heavier, and better armed! How close would you have to get to even damage her with the primitive shells you’ve been forced to use? All that time while you’re trying to close, Walker will be taking fire. And it won’t be cannonballs-it’ll be high-explosive shells, accurately delivered, to kill your crew and your ship!”

Sandra’s argument was beginning to take its toll. She was right, and Matt knew it. Walker had a full load of ammunition for her main battery, all but the Japanese 4.7-inch dual-purpose that had replaced her own damaged number four gun on the aft deckhouse. They had almost shot it “dry,” and other ships and installations armed with the rest of Amagi ’s salvaged secondaries had priority for resupply. The black-powder four-inch-fifty shells Walker had taken east and that supply ships had begun stockpiling for her at almost any friendly port she might touch, had worked better than they had any right to expect, but they just didn’t have the range to go up against Hidoiame. But the rogue Japanese destroyer they’d left Okada to deal with had proven she was just too dangerous to run loose anymore. If they didn’t catch her now, how would they find her later? What if, God forbid, she managed to make it all the way to join Kurokawa and the Grik?

“Aah, Cap-i-taan Reddy?” said Raada-Nin reluctantly. “My manifests include supplies dispatched for the… main-tin-aance of your ship. Among those supplies is a quantity of ammunition for your main baat-tery. New ammunition.” He blinked apology at Sandra, but he couldn’t keep it secret.