Devil's Due (Destroyermen #12)(78)
Republic officers, human and Mi-Anakka, spilled down the stairs amid the swirling steam, jabbering loudly and grateful to stretch their legs. Behind them, peering excitedly at the bustling city, was Courtney Bradford. Bekiaa hadn’t seen him for a very long time and her first impression was that he’d aged. Humans’ fur grayed as they got older, starting around the face, just like Mi-Anakka, and Courtney had grown a beard—almost white—since last they met. The enormous eyebrows he often moved so dramatically, to the amused delight of many, were graying now as well. She couldn’t see his balding head beneath the bizarre hat he wore. He’d replaced his broad sombrero with a furry, pointed cap, complete with a bell with an enclosed rattler at the peak. Long ear warmers extending to the collar of his fur-lined parka were furnished with more bells, like she’d seen on suikaa bridles. She suspected Courtney’s keepers had given him the specially accoutered garment for the same reason suikaas wore the bells: to make them easier to keep track of. Bekiaa entirely approved. The ruddy face beneath the near-white fur looked the same, however. There were no new lines around his youthfully inquisitive eyes, and he seemed just as energetic as she remembered when he bounded down the stairs at last, followed by another pair of keepers. He saw her then and beamed.
“My dear Bekiaa!” he boomed, sweeping forward to embrace her. She endured the hug with a smile, then stepped back. “Just look at you, my dear!” he gushed, and she glanced down self-consciously, expecting to find a muddy blotch on her brilliant armor. “Such a welcome sight for these old eyes,” he quickly clarified. “A veritable recruiting poster for the Marines! I’ve missed you so, I may embrace you again at any moment.”
Bekiaa smiled more broadly, blinking genuine pleasure, but took another step back. “It’s good to see you as well, Minister Braad-furd. Or should I say Mr. Am-baas-ador?”
He waved it away as he might a bothersome insect. “Between us, it must always remain Courtney, of course.”
Bekiaa gestured at her aide. “This is Optio James Meek. Doocy Meek’s son,” she added significantly.
“Jack, sir, if ye please,” Meek said, shaking the hand Courtney extended. “How’s me da?” he asked anxiously.
“Busy, as are we all these days. But thriving. He particularly asked me to pass his warmest regards, should we meet. He knows you’ve been assigned to assist the, ah, legate.” He smiled at Bekiaa. Courtney spent the next several minutes introducing the officers he’d traveled with from Alex-aandra. Most had heard of Bekiaa and were anxious for her views. A few looked resentful, and she knew Jack would remember which they were.
“How was your journey?” Bekiaa asked. “I’d hoped to see you sooner, at Fort Taak.”
“I know, my dear, but the trip was more tedious than expected. After the Clipper brought me to Songze, I viewed the new Republic shipyards. You can still see the Dark from there, you know. It’s utterly fascinating!” The Dark was a perpetual, ship-killing storm that lingered off the cape, kept alive by the collision of warm/cold sea currents and the cold winds from the south crashing into warm, moist air gusting from the equator and across Madagascar. Donaghey was the only sailing ship known to have survived the passage, traveling east to west, and she’d been severely battered. For decades, the Republic’s most powerful warships, now antiquated twin-turret coastal monitors of the Princeps class, had protected its southern and western ports, but they were terrible sea boats with a low freeboard and couldn’t have survived a passage in either direction. After its embarrassment by Savoie, the Republic had—at long last—commissioned a blue-water navy better suited for warfare against the Grik, Doms, and perhaps the League. The first ships, supposedly a type of protected cruiser with heavy guns, tentatively the Imperator class, had been started at Songze in the east, and Trier and Augustus in the west. One of Courtney’s first promises as plenipotentiary at large had been technical assistance from Baalkpan’s engineers.
“From Songze, we flew to Lake Taa-Hu—here—where the Clipper left me. COFO Leedom was sorry to miss you, and sends his regards, by the way. I believe he intended to take a daylight observation of General Kim’s proposed line of advance before turning into the Go Away Strait for a rendezvous with a waiting tender.” Courtney spread his hands. “I’d so hoped to behold one of the great, woolly sauropods, but there was no time, alas, and I was immediately whisked south and west on a heavily laden train bound for St. Peter. From there I went to Kaava-la in an equally packed steam lorry—which looked strikingly like an undertype Super Sentinel to me—pulling several other cars along a remarkably smooth, if very hilly and windy, road.” He frowned. “That stretch was the most excruciating, in terms of time, due to frequent stops for fuel and water, and took as long—nearly three days—as the rest of my trip combined. From there, I traveled west in a coach with a six-horse team and finally reached Alex-aandra the following day. Such a city!” Courtney enthused. “Quite like Constantinople, I must say, flavored by dashes of Peking, ancient Rome, even Athens! And a great deal else, entirely unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Remarkable!”
Bekiaa nodded. She’d spent far too much time there, in her opinion, and had no appreciation for his comparisons, in any event. Alex-aandra was a weird, showy dive, though, that was certain. “Did you speak to Nig-Taak?” she asked.