Devil's Due (Destroyermen #12)(117)
“I . . .” Tomas hesitated, his face genuinely concerned. “I’d much prefer that my men not be mingled with Dominion sailors.”
“Yeah,” Greg said, thinking. “That might be awkward,” he added, for reasons of his own. “I guess we’ll have to keep you all aboard Donaghey for the time being. Your wounded will be treated, but I’ll have to keep you locked below.” He glared at Tomas. “One false move by anybody, and we will cram you in with the Doms,” he warned.
Tomas frowned. “In chains, belowdecks . . . I don’t suppose I can convince you to accept our parole? My parole?”
“Not right now. We’ll have a chance to get to know one another, and maybe that’s the best way for us to avoid things like this in the future,” he said, nodding at the bubbling, flotsam-covered sea. “But your ship came steaming in here and shot at us just as soon as we ran up our own flag. For all I know, she was hunting us specifically.” He paused and studied Tomas’s face. Interesting. That’s what I thought. Poor kid looks like I caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. At least he has a conscience. We might learn a lot from him if I handle this right. “And so far,” he continued, “we haven’t met a solitary Leaguer who didn’t try to kill us or help somebody else do it. As far as I’m concerned, your League is just as screwed-up as the Dominion. You’ll forgive me if I’m not feeling too trusting right now.”
Without waiting for a reply, he turned to Lieutenant Mak. “Put the prisoners below.” He glanced at Tomas. “We don’t keep irons in our ships—never needed them—so your people won’t be shackled; they’ll be secured and guarded in a storeroom. If they try anything, though, there’ll be hell to pay.” He looked back at Mak. “The wounded will be treated here first, and any seriously wounded will be moved to the orlop. We’ll rig a secure sick bay.” He raised his voice. “As soon as that’s done, we double up on repairs and get the hell out of here. Tribune Pol-Heena, take charge of Ensign Mole and lock him in the cabin that psycho kid was in. Talk to him all he wants and assure him we won’t eat him.” He frowned. “That reminds me. Boats, please have a detail bring the Marine the kid murdered on deck and prepare her for burial.” He looked back at Tomas. “We’ll bury her in the morning, along with any of your people who don’t make it. Hopefully, she’ll go down alone. There’s been enough dying today.”
CHAPTER 18
////// Sovereign Nest of Jaaph Hunters
Zanzibar
November 20, 1944
“They’ve mined the entrance to the anchorage!” cried Commander Riku, Kurokawa’s chief of ordnance, as he burst into the parlor of his lord’s headquarters residence without waiting to be announced. Kurokawa and his flag captain, Hara Mikawa of the improved cruiser Nachi, General of the Sky Muriname, Signal Lieutenant Fukui, Maggiore Rizzo, Contre-Amiral Laborde, Capitaine Dupont, another man, clearly one of Rizzo’s pilots, and several more were standing around the great desk. They’d been peering at a large map unrolled atop it, but all looked at Riku as he belatedly paused and saluted.
“I’ll have no more of your outbursts, do you understand?” Kurokawa roared at him. “Can’t you see we’re busy here? How can we concentrate if you are always charging in, yelping about this or that? If you can’t control yourself, I will have you controlled. Is that clear?”
Riku gulped and lowered his eyes. “Yes, Lord.”
“What about mines?” Muriname asked forcefully, gazing intently as he adjusted the spectacles on his nose. Kurokawa glared at him but said nothing. They’d met in response to another air attack, accompanied by some kind of surface raid in the bay. They were trying to decide what the attacks meant and what to do about them. The air raid had been smaller than before—just a few planes—and accomplished little more than relighting fires along the dock and burning some empty jungle near the northern airfield. Muriname was convinced the airfield had been the target and even sortied planes in response, including two of Rizzo’s Macchi-Messerschmitts. The results were mixed, at best. Four of Muriname’s fighters had been lost in the air. Two collided in the dark and fell into the sea. Two more were shot down by either the bombers or friendly ground fire—both were equally possible. They’d learned the bombers had defensive machine guns, and the antiaircraft batteries around the city were much better at throwing a lot of metal in the air. Searchlights on the cruisers gave gunners brief glimpses of shapes to shoot at as well, but Savoie had been forbidden to light her own more powerful lights, for fear of drawing attention to herself. Finally, four more of Muriname’s fighters were damaged landing in the dark. After so many planes and pilots were lost in the attack on TF Alden, he was increasingly disturbed by the rate of attrition.
One of his engine factories had been destroyed in the first raid. He had another, and quite a few engines were already stockpiled, so he could still build planes, but it took time. And what of the Grik craftsmen he’d lost? What of the pilots? Training either took much longer than building the planes. He and his XO, Lieutenant of the Sky Iguri, had been pushed beyond endurance by that endeavor alone. Muriname smirked darkly. At least Iguri wasn’t quite as enamored with Kurokawa as he’d been. For that matter, despite their recent victory, a growing percentage of all the dwindling Japanese were finally losing faith in Kurokawa. Their impotence in the face of the Allied bombing and, frankly, Kurokawa’s inability to find them women after so long only added to their disillusionment. And the incident at the prison compound, whether most would’ve done the same or not, reinforced that issue. Lastly, despite all they’d done for him, all their suffering and sacrifice, it wasn’t lost on anyone that their leader was now constantly and exclusively surrounded by Grik guards.