Taylor Anderson - Crusade

“What else?”

“Those Jap bastards got the Coke machine!”

Matt almost laughed. The last of their Cokes had been gone for weeks-all except one that was stashed in his own quarters. He doubted he’d ever drink it. The machine itself had remained a source of pride to the crew, in a strange, black-humor sort of way. They may have been lost on a hostile, alien-other-earth, but by God, the Coke e mac enough ahead of the Grik that she should be safe from pursuit, but Matt wanted Ben to make sure.

Tsalka glared across the water as Kurokawa’s launch returned to his ship. “You know, General, I grow increasingly weary of that creature.”

General Esshk hissed agreement. “I begin to understand why those who joined us in the Great Hunt in the past have ultimately fallen prey themselves. If they were as grasping and unpleasant as that one”-he gestured at the retreating boat-“it is no wonder the Hij of old turned them out and hunted them to extinction.” Tsalka agreed, but he knew there was more to it than that. Despite the Ancient Way, that whoever hunts together may partake of the meal, he knew it was difficult for any predator to share its prey. The tail-less, almost toothless Hij he had just endured was not one he would care to dine beside.

“Their iron ship is damaged again and it will move even slower now,” Tsalka mused. “But it is still wondrously powerful. I heard the tales of how it destroyed our Uul before it joined the hunt. Last night, I saw how it did so. Magnificent!”

“Most impressive,” Esshk hedged. “But to strike from such a distance! Where is the challenge… the sport in that? It is the hunt that counts. The harvest is secondary.”

Tsalka looked at him with his slitted yellow eyes. “Indeed. But it is not very sporting when the prey consumes the hunter. This prey has teeth! I do not desire another catastrophe such as befell our hunters at the walled city. Such a thing has never happened before and it will not happen again. The Celestial Mother would not be pleased and neither would I.” He gazed at the lumbering iron monstrosity. Black smoke belched from its middle as it burned the coal that somehow pushed it along. There was other smoke still, from the wound it suffered last night, and Tsalka perceived a slight list. Despite its amazing power, the Tree Prey had friends who could damage it. The thought gave him pause. They had damaged a thing that multiple vigorous assaults by his own race did not scratch. Insufferable as the Hij leader of the iron ship folk might be, Tsalka was beginning to suspect that he was right about one thing: the Grik needed them, and might need them very much if the Grand Swarm was to meet with success. The thought rankled, and yet it might be true. The Tree Prey had grown into Worthy Prey in their own right, but with friends such as they had

… the slow iron ship of the new hunters might have to make the difference.

Initially, as was customary, the new hunters had been treated with proper disdain. That was appropriate, since they were the newest hunters in the pack. But things had changed. The prey fought well. They had flying things to help them, as well as an iron ship of their own. Much as he disliked the idea, Tsalka admitted it was probably wise to heed the council of a creature-however distasteful-who knew how to counter such things. For the first time, that morning he had actually paid attention to what the iron ship leader had to write.

“You and I are Hij, General Esshk,” he said. “We can look back upon the Uul-life with fondness and nostalgia. That was our time for the hunt to be sport. That time is past. I joined the Swarm because I was bored and there has not been a Grand Swarm in my lifetime. I wanted to see it for myself. Although I appreciate your courtesy, command is yours, of course. But I flatter myself that my advice may have some value.”

General Esshk bowed lstayed that long, and most of the watch was nervous to the point of distraction-particularly when Kurokawa stepped near their station. But the entire fleet had changed its course, and despite the fact that the damage to Amagi was probably responsible, the captain acted like he had achieved some sort of victory.

“Captain!” a talker suddenly blurted nervously. “The lookout reports sighting the American flying-boat, almost directly overhead!”

Kurokawa and Okada both raced out onto the bridgewing with their binoculars. Sure enough, floating lazily above, droning motors lost in the cacophony of Amagi ’s abused machinery, was the PBY Catalina.

“Damn them!” shouted Kurokawa. He looked around. “Why isn’t anyone shooting at them?”

“They are out of range. If you want to waste ammunition to no effect-for all to see-we certainly can.”

Kurokawa’s gaze slashed at Okada. Then he raised his binoculars toward the Grik flagship. Some of the “officers” were clearly staring at the plane-the damn things had phenomenal eyes-and some were looking right back at him.

“Commander Okada,” he said in a menacing tone, “we must destroy that plane.”

Okada was incredulous. “But… how?”

“We will use one of our planes, of course.”

“But, Captain! Those planes are some of our most precious assets and we only have enough fuel for a couple of flights. Also, as you yourself pointed out, they are not fighters, they are spotting planes. They are lightly armed, and I’m not even sure they are fast enough to catch the American plane.”

Kurokawa’s round face regarded Okada without expression. “You, Commander, will choose a flight crew for the fastest of the two planes, if there is any difference. You will have it only half filled with fuel since it needn’t go far. That should improve its speed and will save fuel as well. You will then tell the crew that they will destroy the American plane or they need not return. Finally, if they are not in the air in ten minutes, they will be shot.” He snorted. “Remember, our ‘allies’ are watching.”

All Okada could do as he raced aft was mutter, “Madness!” under his breath.

“There they are!” Tikker shouted excitedly long before Ben Mallory could see anything but water and sky. By the time the leading edge of the enemy armada was visible to the pilot, Tikker already had an answer to one of their questions. The Grik had turned around. “They go home!” he shouted with glee.

“I doubt it.” Mallory sighed. “I bet they’re headed for Aryaal. They’ll set up a base there and hit us when they’re ready. Question is, why aren’t they ready now? Do you see any sign of Amagi?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Tikker with disappointment. “There is a large, dark shape farther ahead with smoke rising above it. It seems smoky all over, so maybe it is badly damaged. But we are still too far to tell.”

“There’s nothing for it then. We have to take a closer look.”

“Sure,” said Ed Palmer, standing in his usual place at the rear of the flight deck, “but I’m relieved for Aracca ’s sake.”

“You and me both,” sighed Ben. “She might have made it, but if they’d still been coming on even at eight knots… Well, Walker ’s report about what happeneIt was convenient that the PBY had full tanks of oxygen when they found it and Ben had them use some now, so they could get above the antiaircraft weapons. The seals on the masks didn’t work too well because even Ben and Ed had fur on their faces now, but there was plenty of oxygen for the few minutes they would need it. They would barely scratch the surface. There was almost a ten-hour supply. Ben pulled back on the wheel and slightly advanced the throttles. Before long, they were cruising at 18,000 feet-the big plane’s maximum service ceiling. Now the Japanese could shoot at them all they wanted, but the chances they’d hit anything were infinitesimal. Ben was betting they knew that too and wouldn’t want to waste ammo in front of their “friends.”