Taylor Anderson - Maelstrom

“How long do you think we have?” Sandra asked. Matt shrugged and looked at Bradford.

“Difficult to say, of course,” the Australian opined. “According to our ‘new’ Jappo-a Commander Okada, if I’m not mistaken-we did hurt them rather badly. It may take as many as three years to make good their losses in ships and warriors. Five at the absolute most. You do understand I’m only guessing?”

“My God. That fast?” Jim Ellis interjected.

“Most likely.” Bradford nodded.

“That means we’ve only about half that time to strike before they’re fully prepared,” Keje said thoughtfully.

“How?” whispered Matt. Beyond his earlier statement of fact, he didn’t really want to talk long-term strategy just then. His heart wasn’t in it. He just wanted to mourn his ship.

“Easy, Skipper.” Spanky grinned. “We’ll build battlewagons!”

Matt blinked. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Ever see a walking-beam steam engine? Put one-a big one-on something the size of Big Sal, stick on some paddle wheels, and pack her full of guns… ’Cat battlewagons!”

Keje was intrigued. “Steam engines… in a Home! Remarkable! You must tell me more, Mr. Maac-Faar-Laan.” Then he shook his head. “First we must consider, however, that we still need more help.” He bowed to Saan-Kakja. “Less now, of course, but Princess Re-beccaa’s people will surely appreciate the necessity of our cause. We must send a delegation across the Eastern Ocean. Take her home, Cap-i-taan Reddy; let her speak for us.” He glanced at Chief Gray. “In light of our victory, they may be… easier to convince than before.”

“Not much time for that,” Matt murmured dolefully, still looking at Walker ’s grave. The destroyer’s speed would have made communications across such a distance much simpler. He sighed. No point in wi› like a victory instead of yet another ordeal they’d somehow managed to survive. Eventually, as the afternoon waned, the friends began to disperse.

Finally alone, as the sun touched the dense jungle horizon, Sandra wrapped her arms around Matt’s neck, pulling him down for a joyful, passionate kiss.

“Gotta go,” she whispered at last, tears streaking her face. “Work to do.”

“I’ll be along.”

“You’ll be all right?”

Matt smiled at her and nodded. “I think I am. Right now, finally, I think we all will be.” She hugged him tight, and as she disengaged herself, her fingers trailing away from his, her smile turned impish.

“Karen’s pregnant,” she announced.

Matt was stunned, as all men are by such sudden, momentous statements. “She didn’t look any different to me.”

Sandra giggled and shook her head. “See you later, sailor,” she said, and stepped away into the gathering twilight.

“Huh,” Matt said, turning to walk along the dock. Eventually he grinned.

A short distance away he was surprised to encounter the Mice sitting on coiled cables and leaning against a fallen piling. All three had their elbows on their knees and their chins in their hands as they stared glumly at their sunken Home.

“Evening, uh… men,” he said, inwardly amused by his own confusion regarding how to address them. The trio began to stand and he waved them back. “Why the long faces?” They looked at him as if he were nuts.

Gilbert hopped up anyway, whipping his hat from his head. No matter how crazy he thought he was, there was no way he could answer the skipper sitting down. “Well, sir, beggin’ yer pardon, but our ship’s, well… sunk.”

“So? We’ll raise her. What’s that compared to everything else we’ve done?” Isak and Tabby both jumped up.

“But… beggin’ yer pardon too, how we gonna patch her?” Isak demanded.

Tabby suddenly blinked inspiration. “We gonna use iron from that Jap ship, ain’t we!” she exclaimed in a passable copy of her companion’s lazy drawl.

Isak stiffened. In a voice both excited and scandalized at the same time, he spoke. “Hally-looya, we’re gonna get our boilers back. .. but goddamn! Jap iron? It ain’t decent!” Catching himself, he yanked his own hat off his head and mumbled, “Sir.”

Matt laughed. “Settle down! Steel is steel. Besides, remember all that scrap we sold the Japs before the war? Maybe Amagi used to be a Packard!”

He was still laughing when he left them talking excitedly among themselves. Slowly he walked around the basin, inspecting the remains of his ship with a critical eye. Inevitably, looking at her, he became more somber. No question about it: raising and refitting the old destroyer would be a daunting task. But they had performed miracles; they could do it again. The mere fact that any of them were still alive was a miracle in itself.

He stopped when he reached the other side of the basin. The ship was farther from him now, and the exposed damage didn’t look so bad. An errant ray of the setting sun managed to blink through the jungopy