Devil's Due (Destroyermen #12)(67)
“The other carriers, New Dublin and Raan-goon, are colored the same, I’m told,” Lelaa said, guessing his thoughts. “Appaar-ently, we will see for ourselves tomorrow, at long laast,” she added in a satisfied tone. She cocked her head as she walked. “It will be difficult to get used to,” she confessed, “and it spoils her beauty, I think, but I understaand the purpose. The new paint job certainly distorts her shape, and even makes her seem more . . . menacing, somehow.”
“That’s because it looks so strange,” Jenks said, absently twisting his long, braided mustaches. “Strange is always frightening.”
“Then let’s hope it scares the craap out of the enemy!”
Jenks chuckled. “I don’t care what color they paint her, or any of our ships, as long as they’re ready to fight.” He paused. “Can you really put your air wing back together? I know what you told the governor, but it seems almost impossible.”
“If I get Orrin Reddy and at least some of my planes and pilots back, the Third Naval Air Wing should be restored. Raan-goon and New Dublin are bringing sufficient crated air-craaft and pilots to bring it up to strength.”
“If you get them back,” Jenks agreed. “General Shinya needs close air support, and doesn’t believe we can provide it. We couldn’t for a while,” he confessed. “But with three carriers offshore, shadowing his movements on land, I think he’ll change his mind.”
Lelaa was quiet as they drew nearer the docks. “You asked me; now I ask you. Will our surface element truly be so strong? It’s hard to imagine.”
“Five of our ships of the line, veterans of Malpelo, will be ready to sail as soon as Maaka-Kakja. That I promise. They include Mithra, Centurion, and Mars, which were all badly damaged, as you know. Hermes was the least affected. Others, I’m afraid, will take too long, or better facilities than we have here, but Captain Ruik’s Destroyer, with its mixed crew”—Jenks smiled sadly—“will be ready for sea.” The Destroyer had been the Dom Deoses Destructor, captured during the battle. Her new crew was made of survivors of Ruik’s USS Simms and Lieutenant Parr’s HIMS Icarus, both of which went down alongside her. Their two decimated crews, one Imperial and the other from the Amer-i-caan Navy Clan, had formed a tight bond and been combined. Ruik was in command, though still suffering from losing most of his arm, and Parr was his XO. “Raan-goon and New Dublin are bringing four more ships of the line,” Jenks continued. “That gives us nine.” He took a long breath, watching a group of filthy, worn-out Imperial troops marching toward their camp outside the city. He nodded at them and they gave a half-hearted cheer. “We couldn’t have done any of it if all the ships’ crews, Marines, most of the troops assembled on the island, and virtually every able-bodied civilian hadn’t been pressed into service as shipwrights.” He chuckled darkly. “On the bright side, many who had none have now learned a trade. Like your people, however, they’ll soon have to adapt again. I suspect it’ll not be long before all our warships, at least, have iron hulls.”
He shook his head, his thoughts returning to Lelaa’s question. “We’ll still be short of frigates”—he smiled at her—“I mean DDs, having only my old Achilles, as well as Ulysses, Euripides, and Tacitus. Some older DDs, converted to AVDs, are escorting the new carriers, but six of the latest class, similar to your Scotts but more heavily armed and armored, should be here within a few weeks. With smaller, better protected crews and a heavier punch, it’s estimated they’ll be even more formidable than ships of the line. There’s nothing about them not to like. They’re quite expensive, however, I’m told.” He grinned at Lelaa. “It’s well that, with the confirmation of the gold and oil deposits your people told us to expect near Saint Francis, the Empire’s credit is quite strong just now. In any event, I expect them to arrive by the time we move against that accursed El Paso del Fuego.”
“Which brings us to that,” Lelaa said simply, stepping on the dock alongside Maaka-Kakja’s looming shape. Rope-and-plank scaffolds dangled down the side of the ship, covered with men and ’Cats plying paintbrushes. Raised voices attracted Lelaa’s attention to her XO, “Tex” Sheider, who was arguing loudly with Gilbert Yeager. Something to do with boiler soot and fresh paint. She shut them from her mind.
“As you heard, Governor-Empress Rebecca wants us to take everything we have and smash directly through the pass. She won’t order it, of course. Not after what happened to Task Force Eleven. But she’s made her preference clear,” Jenks said.
“I take it you dis-aagree?”
Jenks shook his head and spoke wryly. “I’m attracted by the boldness of the move, but, again, perhaps based on the experience of TF Eleven, I’m compelled to counsel against it. General Shinya’s mountaintop wireless tower has established contact with Lieutenant Reynolds and Ensign Kari-Faask. We were all very relieved to hear that, but now we know, though the New United States fully intends to join in the destruction of the Dominion, their participation—expected much sooner—was delayed. In addition, though the dragons are fewer in the Pass of Fire than in the past—perhaps we’ve killed enough to make a difference at last?—it remains costly in aircraft and pilots to scout the defenses there. Perhaps the improved pursuit planes aboard the new carriers will simplify that?” He frowned. “But indications are that a powerful enemy fleet still remains on this side of the pass. It’s not as large as the one we fought near Malpelo, but it’s had time to prepare, to position and protect shore batteries. Who knows what else they might’ve done? We must not underestimate the enemy again. More disturbing, neither we nor the NUS know what waits on the other side of the pass. I agree we must break through, but we have to secure this side first.”