Distant Thunders (15 page)

“I will see what I can do,” Shinya said at last. “If you agree to work with the Allies and continue to tell them what you know of Kurokawa and the Grik, I will try to convince them to let you go ‘home.’ Perhaps there you will find the honor you think you have lost. If so, I hope you can live with it. I doubt it, though. I fear for you, Commander Okada. I fear that someday your misjudgment will fade and the honor I still see in you will rise within your heart and demand a reckoning. Because of the blood we spill on behalf of you and uncountable others, you will die a tortured old man, who missed his opportunity to
be
honorable by mistakenly trying to do the honorable thing.”

“What would you have me do?” Matt asked the mustachioed man sitting across the table. The table was split bamboo, with a rough, uneven top, and it served Matt as a desk of sorts in the semi-finished chamber known as the War Room. The chamber was one of many in the “new” Great Hall, still undergoing noisy reconstruction. The irregular surface of the desk didn’t really matter much; paperwork was kept to a minimum and consisted of sun-dried skins, like parchment, only not as fine. Usually, the rawhide parchment supported itself well enough to write on.

“What would you have
me
do?” Jenks replied. He was dressed in his best, as always now, for these biweekly meetings. He sat stiffly on a stool in his no longer perfectly white uniform, with its ever so slightly tarnished braid. Under his arm was the black shako with braid that matched his sleeves and collar. It was raining outside and sheets pounded against the hastily covered ceiling and the chamber was humid and damp. Jenks’s coat smelled of musty cotton and the half-soaked hat would have added a wet wool and leather odor if the similar wet-’Cat smell hadn’t overpowered it. Between them on the desk was a large decanter of purplish amber liquid and two small mugs. Neither mug had been touched.

“I know we haven’t often seen eye-to-eye,” Jenks understated, “but I do have my duty. I must return the princess to her family—something you promised to help me do—but I don’t see any measurable degree of preparation under way to accomplish that task.”

Matt cocked an eyebrow at him. “No? We captured two more of your men spying on the shipyard from a boat they’d hired last night. Don’t tell me we’ve caught them all. Surely you have some idea what we’ve been up to?”

Jenks sat even straighter and his face went hard. “Do you mean to execute those men, like the one you caught a few weeks ago?”

“I
should
hang them,” Matt answered darkly. “I told you what the penalty would be if we caught your men snooping around where they don’t belong. The entire city has been open to them and they’ve been treated well, by all accounts. Better than well. Still, you can’t resist fooling around where you’ve got no business.”

“If I perceive a threat to the Empire, it is my duty to evaluate it. We have cooperated with every one of your ridiculous requests, languishing here in this place quite long enough for you to prepare an envoy to my people.” Jenks’s eyes widened slightly in genuine surprise. “Somehow, you have convinced the princess to support you in that. In the meantime, all I get from you are delays, accusations, and, I believe, sir, distortions of truth. You have done nothing to alleviate my concerns about your Alliance. If anything, those concerns have grown more acute. And my question remains: will you murder these men like you did the last one?”

Matt stood, angry. “We didn’t ‘murder’ anyone! The last man we caught had murdered a sentry to get where he was. He was captured and executed as a murderer and a spy! Would you have done otherwise? Please don’t insult my intelligence by telling me you would.”

Jenks only sighed.

“Very well,” Matt continued, seating himself again. “The men we caught last night did no such thing, and I doubt they saw much either. I’ll return them to you, but you’d best restrict them to your ship. If I catch them ashore again, they
will
be hanged!”

Jenks cleared his throat, calming himself. For some time he sat still, staring at Matt as if appraising him anew. “Just so,” he said at last, with a hint of resignation. “And you have my appreciation and . . . my apology. You won’t see
them
again. I cannot assure you that there will be no more spies, however.”

Matt looked closely at the man. He’d spoken the word “spies” with distaste. Did he mean he wouldn’t make that assurance, or couldn’t? This wasn’t the first time Matt got the impression that some things happened on and off Jenks’s ship over which he had little, if any, control. He wondered if the vague admission was a crack in Jenks’s facade, or if he was merely tiring of the aggrieved role he seemed to think was expected of him. By somebody. Matt merely nodded. He doubted he’d get an admission if he continued to press, and he wanted to use Jenks’s comparative openness while he had the chance.

“I do assure you we’re doing all we can to prepare the expedition as quickly as possible. As I’ve said, a reconnaissance of Aryaal is part of that, and a reconnaissance in force is essential—thus the delay. That has to be our first priority. We need to know what’s going on there before we dare weaken our defenses here. Our estimates of the Grik may be entirely wrong—they have been before,” he added bitterly. “Besides, you’ve been here only a little more than two months. Bradford said it might take a few. My definition of ‘a few’ is three or more. Isn’t it the same with you?” Matt thought he detected the most subtle of smiles flash across Jenks’s face.

“Indeed. But one can always hope for the best, and ‘a few’ is a somewhat vague expression.” Jenks’s tone hardened slightly. “Just as your notion of what these Grik are capable of seems vague as well. Come, you defeated them badly when last they came. Surely you cannot be as . . . concerned . . . about them as you claim?”

Matt leaned against the backrest he’d had installed on his stool and regarded Jenks for a moment, rubbing his chin. “Tell you what. I’m about to have an interview with a man who probably knows more about them than anyone alive. Why don’t you join us? You may find it . . . enlightening.” Matt took Jenks’s silence as agreement and rang a little bell. Instantly, the War Room door opened, revealing a small, dark Filipino who eyed Jenks doubtfully. “Juan, please have General Alden and Colonel Shinya escort the prisoner inside.”

Juan stood straighter, as if at attention. He’d been
Walker
’s officer’s steward before the war, and he’d since evolved into Matt’s personal steward and secretary. No appointment to that effect had ever been made; Juan just took it upon himself. By sheer force of will, he’d made it stick.

“Of course, Cap-i-tan,” he said. “Should I bring coffee?”

Matt hid a grimace at the prospect of Juan’s coffee, or at least the stuff that passed for coffee here. Back when he’d had the real stuff to ruin, Juan’s coffee had been ghastly. With the ersatz beans he now had, it had improved to the point that it was only vile. Still . . . “No, that’s not necessary, but thanks.”

With a somber bow, Juan closed the door. A moment later it opened again, revealing three other men whom Juan ushered to seats across the desk. All had recently arrived and were soaked to varying degrees. Once they sat, Juan left the chamber, discreetly closing the door behind him.

“Commodore Jenks, I understand you’ve met General Alden and Colonel Shinya?” There were nods. “Then may I present Commander Sato Okada, formerly of the Japanese battle cruiser we’re stripping in the bay?” Jenks nodded, but Okada continued staring straight ahead.

“Yes, well. I’ve now spoken with Commander Okada on several occasions and I’ve discovered he prefers to remain aloof from civilities. You must understand that before we . . . came to this world, his people and ours were at war.” Matt’s expression darkened. “Quite bitterly at war, as a matter of fact, and that war almost certainly still rages. Since we rescued him from his sunken ship, we’ve come to an . . . understanding regarding our association. By his choice he remains a prisoner of war. In recognition of the threat posed by the Grik, however, and in exchange for transportation to that region that
would
have been Japan, he’s willing to answer any questions about the enemy to the best of his ability. He was
Amagi
’s first officer, and as such had frequent direct, personal contact with the Grik. More than anyone else from his ship, in fact, since his former commander, Captain Kurokawa, forced him to perform most of their correspondence. Okada believes this was mainly a form of punishment, since Kurokawa knew how much he loathed their ‘allies.’ Ask him whatever you want. If you don’t believe me about the menace we all face—your precious Empire as well—you must believe him. He’s as objective a source as you’ll find. You see, he doesn’t like us much either.”

“Who’s to say the information he gives you is genuine, then?” Jenks demanded. “Perhaps he inflates the threat to discourage you from attacking while his own people are still in their hands.”

Okada spoke through clenched teeth. His enunciation was careful, if heavily accented. “If this . . . British man doubts my word, I will say nothing to him. I do not even understand why I am here. Surely you have already told him everything I have said. Americans and British are the same. Both are enemies of my emperor. You act in concert and remain as one people, despite your supposed split.”

“Hmm,” said Matt, “I’m sorry, Commander. Clearly, you
don’t
understand. Commodore Jenks is no more British than you are.” For an instant, Okada’s facade dropped to reveal an expression of confusion while Jenks sputtered. Matt plowed on. “His
ancestors
were British, mostly, from what the princess says, but they came to this world the same way we did before the United States even existed. I’ve tried to persuade him to accept the historical bond that’s existed between our two countries for the last few decades, but he professes not to believe it. If he does, he doesn’t care. So don’t think of him or his people as enemies of your emperor; they’re not. Remember your history. When his people last came through here, Japan was closed to them. They knew it was there, of course, but they knew little of the people who inhabited it. They were too busy in China and India.”

“I
am
British, sir. I am a subject of the Empire of the New Britain Isles,” Jenks retorted hotly. He glanced at Okada. “But I am no enemy of yours. I apologize for forming my question so tactlessly. Please tell me, in your opinion, how serious is this supposed Grik threat?”

Okada regarded Jenks for a moment, evaluating the sincerity of the question. Finally, he relaxed slightly, and as he spoke, it was clear that evil, shrouded memories marched across his thoughts. “They are a threat beyond imagination. You are familiar with the shape of the world, from your ancient charts?” Jenks nodded. “Besides their recent conquests in Malaysia, they control all of India, the Arab coast, and at least eastern Africa almost to the cape. I believe their imperial capital, where their ‘Celestial Mother’ resides, is on Madagascar, one of their earlier conquests. They have no sense of honor as even an Englishman might recognize it. Their individual warriors have no sense of honor at all. They are voracious predators who exterminate all in their path, feasting not only on the bodies of their victims, but on their very own dead. They eat their
young
—a practice I have seen with my own eyes—and they have eaten . . . members of my own crew when we failed to conquer Baalkpan on our first attempt. All failure is considered a failure of spirit, and those who fail are considered prey to be devoured. That is why we aided them, why Kurokawa aided them: through fear of being preyed upon if we refused. Kurokawa may have had other reasons of his own, but for the vast majority”—his eyes drooped—“for me, it was fear.”

“But what of the battle here?” Jenks demanded. “Surely such a defeat must have hurt them.”

Okada looked wistful. “I certainly hope it did. Nevertheless, I have
seen
. I have been to Ceylon, where their teeming hordes are beyond number. I have seen how they so readily replaced the ships and warriors destroyed in their first offensive against Aryaal and this place. A grace period may have been won, but it will be short. They breed rapidly, and if they do
not
eat their young, within five years they may return with three times what they lost—and still maintain control of their frontiers.”

“My God,” Jenks muttered.

“Nothing we haven’t told you before,” Alden growled.

“True, perhaps, but . . .”

“Tell you what,” Matt said, making a decision he’d been pondering for days. “Now that you have a fresh perspective on why we’re in such a hurry and why our expedition to return your princess has received a lesser priority, I’ll take you to the shipyard myself. Just you. I don’t know what other agenda your spies may have, but I’ll let you see what we’re working on and let you decide whether we’re doing it to fight the Grik, or threaten your Empire. All I ask is that, on your
honor
, you don’t divulge what you see, but I’ll leave the evaluation up to you.”