Distant Thunders_ Destroyermen Part 17

"How convenient."

"Indeed."

"What is the plan?"

"Simple. Do you see that Marine with the Amer-i-caans? He is one of us. He will continue to distract Cap-i-taan Ellis and the wiry one while we take a boat ride."

"The other Marines?"

"With us."

"How delicious!" Rasik exclaimed. "They meant to maroon me, and I will maroon them! A shame we cannot kill them and take their weapons, but with half our group ordered to remain with the boat . . ."

"Precisely. It might prove dangerous. Now all we need to do is slip back down the net while they exult over their prize! After you, Lord King."

Down in the half-flooded aft hold, they heaved the heavy crates up one after another until Chack's shoulders screamed in agony and the others were panting with exertion. Through their increasingly concentrated toil, none of them noticed when it suddenly grew darker in the chamber for a moment as something moved through the light-giving rent in the s.h.i.+p's side. They felt it, though, another vibration like the others, but clearly here here.

Chack looked down at the upturned face of his Marine on the diminished stack of crates. "Up!" he shouted. "Out of the hold!" He turned to race up the ladder, to get out of the way. Blas-Ma-Ar heaved frantically against the crates stacked above to make room for him to pa.s.s and so neither ever saw what got the other Marine. They heard a heavy splash and felt the entire s.h.i.+p judder slightly. More splashes came when the stack of crates collapsed into the water, but by the time Chack reached the top and spun to offer his hand, the other Marine was gone. There'd been no scream, no shout. Nothing but the splash. Chack s.n.a.t.c.hed his Krag and frantically searched the water. He thought he saw a dark shape near the hole in the s.h.i.+p and fired, but all that apparently accomplished was to create an impenetrable haze of gun-smoke. He roared in frustration and fired again anyway.

"Cap-i-taan! Cap-i-taan!" Blas-Ma-Ar was pulling on his leather armor. "He is gone!" Chack shook her off and chambered another round. The almost youngling's voice turned hard. "Cap-i-taan Chack-Sab-At, we have lost a Marine. He died bravely doing his duty. How many lives is this ammunition worth? We still have our duty as well!"

Chack took a deep breath. "Very well. You are right, of course. Come, help me with these crates, but stay alert! There may yet be other dangers within this foul place!"

"Was that shots? That was shots!" Jim exclaimed. "m.u.f.fled in the s.h.i.+p. Chack!" He looked around. "Hey, where's Koratin and Rasik?"

"They left," the Marine with them said simply.

"What? Wait, never mind that now. C'mon!" Jim s.n.a.t.c.hed his Springfield and raced toward the hatch he'd seen Chack and his party enter. "Chack!" he bellowed, and was relieved to hear an answering shout, still muted by decks and pa.s.sageways. "Where are you? What did you shoot at?" Wait, never mind that now. C'mon!" Jim s.n.a.t.c.hed his Springfield and raced toward the hatch he'd seen Chack and his party enter. "Chack!" he bellowed, and was relieved to hear an answering shout, still muted by decks and pa.s.sageways. "Where are you? What did you shoot at?"

"We are here," came a closer reply. "We need help with some heavy objects. Most are still stacked in the entrance to the aft hold." Chack finally appeared at the base of the companionway they were looking down. It was dark as pitch.

"Where's your lantern?" Isak asked.

"Follow this corridor behind me, through the engineering s.p.a.ces. It is not so dark back there. The lantern marks the spot." Chack paused, taking a breath. "Do not enter the aft hold. Something is in there. Something that got one of my Marines. You should be safe enough," he continued brusquely. "I do not think whatever it was can reach as high as the crates we retrieved."

Jim turned to face the Marine who'd stayed with them. "What's this about Rasik? What do you mean, 'they left'?"

Chack had reached the top of the companionway. He was puffing from exertion and repressed emotion, but he interrupted before the Marine could answer. "Cap-i-taan Ellis, we found much ammunition. Good ammunition for the big machine guns. I lost a good Marine to some monster getting it out. Please let us retrieve it while we know the path is clear. I will try to . . . explain the situation with Rasik as I see it when we are done."

Jim started again to demand an immediate explanation, but Chack had already turned to go back for another crate. "Come on," he said to the others.

It still took several trips by all five of them to retrieve the crates and drag them to the bulwark, where the cargo net was. There was indeed much ammunition. For some reason, Jim wasn't surprised to see the boat gone. "All right," he said at last, gasping from his effort, "what gives?"

Chack was breathing hard too, but when he set his last crate down, he turned to Ellis. "I learned a great lesson once, not long ago, from some very wise men." He glanced at Blas-Ma-Ar, puffing up behind them festooned with the odd-looking weapons and the sack full of books. "Sometimes, for their own sake and the sake of the greater good, there are things leaders keep from followers because they do not have 'need to know.' 'Specially if the knowing-and only the knowing-will cause grief or . . . make things harder." Chack's tail flicked dramatically from one side to the other in a gesture that meant much the same thing as "on the other hand."

"There are also some very few rare times when followers decide their leaders don't have 'need to know.' These . . . what-if-hypothetical?-decisions do not come from distrust, animosity, or for any bad reasons at all." His tail flicked again. "It is the esteem they feel for their leaders that makes them happen." He took a final deep breath and continued. "Sometimes, followers see . . . again, hypothetically . . . that a thing must be done. For reasons of honor, integrity, and the greater good of others, there is no choice." He held up a hand. "But, for those same reasons, leaders need not-must not-know about the thing that must be done must be done."

"That's not good enough, Chack! What the h.e.l.l's going on? Tell me; that's an order!"

"Very well, but forgive me if my explaining wanders. I've just lost a Marine and I'm maybe 'rattled,' as you say." He sighed. "I'm poorly prepared right now, but may I answer you . . . philosophically?"

"What is this bulls.h.i.+t?" Jim's 'Cat was good, but Chack was speaking English. He must have practiced saying "philosophically" for a while.

"I take that as yes. You of all people know that a leader's honor and authority must be maintained at all costs."

Jim blanched slightly, but he already knew Chack meant no insult.

Chack continued: "He cannot, must not must not, break his word. Not to his crew, or even his prisoners."

Jim's eyes went wide as he finally realized what Chack was saying. "So you're telling me . . ."

Chack shushed him. "A moment. I'm not telling telling you anything. For the sake of our 'philosophical discussion,' say Cap-i-taan Reddy, our supreme commander, was forced to make a decision . . . a terrible accommodation that must torture him . . . even though it was made for the greater good. You, as his friend and follower, are bound to honor that accommodation in his place. You have no choice, no matter how distasteful you find it, even knowing how much it cost Cap-i-taan Reddy to make it in the first place. You would be tempted as his friend to break the accommodation, but that would be against his orders. That would reflect poorly on you and him as well. If, however, unknown to you, a small group of followers-who'd gravely suffered, I add-decided they could not bear this accommodation, and took it on themselves-knowing you would be bound to punish them-to break it without your knowledge . . ." you anything. For the sake of our 'philosophical discussion,' say Cap-i-taan Reddy, our supreme commander, was forced to make a decision . . . a terrible accommodation that must torture him . . . even though it was made for the greater good. You, as his friend and follower, are bound to honor that accommodation in his place. You have no choice, no matter how distasteful you find it, even knowing how much it cost Cap-i-taan Reddy to make it in the first place. You would be tempted as his friend to break the accommodation, but that would be against his orders. That would reflect poorly on you and him as well. If, however, unknown to you, a small group of followers-who'd gravely suffered, I add-decided they could not bear this accommodation, and took it on themselves-knowing you would be bound to punish them-to break it without your knowledge . . ."

"They're gonna b.u.mp off that Rasik b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Isak said gleefully.

Chack stared hard at the fireman. Under his helmet, his ears were probably slicked back in irritation. "I didn't say that. Nor as I understand it, is that their exact intent."

A short time later, the boat pulled back to the s.h.i.+p with Koratin and the two Marines. Immediately, all those on the s.h.i.+p besides Jim Ellis began pa.s.sing crates and green metal boxes of ammunition down. Ellis fumed. He was relieved and infuriated at the same time. A plot had been hatched under his very nose-again-and although this time it was apparently done to spare him, he was still angry. Much to Isak's consternation, Jim hadn't revealed what he'd seen in the ma.s.sive crates. It was just too big and it might be better if it remained a secret. Also, in this case, Isak's opinion wasn't worth much. A short time ago, it wouldn't have occurred to him to keep a secret from Chack, but right now he was mad and a little distrustful. Besides, he realized after he thought about it some more, they were going straight from this place into probable battle. If the Grik captured anyone, G.o.d forbid, it was best they have no idea what was in the wrecked s.h.i.+p north of Chill-chaap. It wouldn't be difficult for the Grik to launch an expedition to destroy it, because who knew when the Allies would be able to come back themselves? No, this he'd keep to himself for a while until he had a chance to think more about it.

"We've done what we came here to do," he said. "We've found Rasik's 'surprise,' and I know what's in the big crates. This ammo will come in real handy. h.e.l.l, it's worth the trip by itself." One of the books Chack had retrieved was the s.h.i.+p's manifest. They'd lugged fifty-five thousand rounds of .50 BMG to the bulwark, and a few thousand rounds of .30-06. According to the pages in the book, there were two million two million more rounds in the s.h.i.+p. Quite understandable when one considered what they were for. A lot would be underwater and some might be ruined, but they'd have the bra.s.s and bullets. He tucked the manifest under his arm. He'd look it over some more on the way back to the s.h.i.+p. more rounds in the s.h.i.+p. Quite understandable when one considered what they were for. A lot would be underwater and some might be ruined, but they'd have the bra.s.s and bullets. He tucked the manifest under his arm. He'd look it over some more on the way back to the s.h.i.+p.

He studied Koratin as the Marine corporal worked. It was hard to spot, but there was a little blood on his now slightly grungy white leather armor. "What did you do with Rasik, Koratin? I have to know."

Koratin paused in his labor. "He desired to be set ash.o.r.e here, instead of on the island," he said simply. "As you Amer-i-caans would say, I owed him one."

Ellis clenched his teeth. "Is he alive?"

"Of course! We left him quite well situated, as a matter of fact." He glanced at the other two Marines. "We left him all our rations and even our spears! He should have no difficulty surviving for a considerable period. I swear to you now, before the Sun sinking yonder, Rasik will never die by our hands!"

Slightly mollified-Aryaalans didn't swear by the Sun lightly-Ellis frowned. "But he might wander back to Aryaal, d.a.m.n it! That's why I wanted him on the island!"

"It matters little. If he'd wanted across, he could have built a raft. No, I think King Rasik will trouble the Alliance no more. He fully understands he is not wanted!"

"Well . . . you still disobeyed an order! Put yourself and these other Marines on report. I'm tempted to put Chack on report as well, as an accessory of some kind!" Jim looked at Chack. "Philosophical, my a.s.s!"

"He had nothing to do with it!" Koratin objected.

"Maybe not, but he knew."

"He may have surmised surmised, Cap-i-taan, but he did not know."

Jim looked at Chack again. Maybe Koratin was right. Clearly, Chack had expected them to kill Rasik. "Very well. For now. Let's hurry up and get the h.e.l.l out of here. It'll be a long row home, mostly in the dark, and with that giant duck-eating . . . whatever it is, and with what got our Marine, that's kind of a creepy thought!" He shook his head. "What is it with this d.a.m.n world, where everything wants to eat you?"

"Hey, Cap'n Ellis," Isak said suddenly. Once unaccustomed to making unsolicited comments to officers, the fireman blurted them out all the time now. "It just hit me. The ol' Blackhawk Blackhawk used to be used to be named Santa Catalina named Santa Catalina before the Navy bought her! One of her snipes told me once when we was alongside." He shook his head. "Guy was one squirrely b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Used to run around ever'where tootin' on a duck call! That's why I remembered it all of a sudden. You know, the duck call . . . ? Well, anyway, it's still kinda weird." before the Navy bought her! One of her snipes told me once when we was alongside." He shook his head. "Guy was one squirrely b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Used to run around ever'where tootin' on a duck call! That's why I remembered it all of a sudden. You know, the duck call . . . ? Well, anyway, it's still kinda weird."

Weird was right, Jim thought. Weird the way Isak's brain worked. A few minutes before, he'd been irate that Jim wouldn't tell him what was in the crates. Then he dredged up something like that.

Rasik-Alcas watched the boat pull away through small gaps in the canopy. They hadn't covered his eyes; they'd only gagged him. Now, through the searing waves of agony, he couldn't even scream. They hadn't taken him far, just a short distance beyond the jungle-choked sh.o.r.e. He'd actually been close enough to hear Koratin rea.s.sure Ellis that he wasn't dead! How could any creature lie so amazingly well? Rasik himself hadn't suspected a thing-but of course, he hadn't wanted to. Koratin would have known that! As depraved as Rasik knew himself to be, he'd certainly met his final, evil match-and all because of younglings!

He struggled feebly, but the movement only caused more agony. Koratin and the Marines had pinned his arms to the trunk of a wide subaa tree, right through the twinbones. He couldn't even tear himself free! Not that it would do any good. They'd done the same to the twinbones in his legs and then made a small incision in his belly. Not large enough to bleed him to death, but quite large enough to pull his intestines through. The squirming, tearing sensation had been more than he could bear, and he'd finally pa.s.sed out. When he awoke, his murderers were gone. Food was scattered on the ground all around him-and his guts had been strung five or six tails away and hung on a limb.

He clenched his eyes shut as biting insects buzzed around his entrails. If only he'd known! How could could he have known? Not only Koratin's precious, despicable younglings had perished on he have known? Not only Koratin's precious, despicable younglings had perished on Nerracca Nerracca-the Home the j.a.panese destroyed-but so had the younglings or mates of all his conspirators! He should should have had a way of knowing that. have had a way of knowing that. Would Would have, if he'd been thinking clearly! Even so, what did younglings measure against the power Koratin could have had as King Rasik-Alcas's Supreme Minister? Younglings were simple to replace, even a pleasure, but the kind of power Koratin had denied was a priceless, precious thing. It was madness! have, if he'd been thinking clearly! Even so, what did younglings measure against the power Koratin could have had as King Rasik-Alcas's Supreme Minister? Younglings were simple to replace, even a pleasure, but the kind of power Koratin had denied was a priceless, precious thing. It was madness!

Even as Rasik-Alcas considered these imponderables and watched the boat grow small against the setting sun, the tiny, timid night predators began to gather around.

[image]

Environs of Tjilatj.a.p

CHAPTER 16.

Matt looked at the message form Clancy had handed him. The fact they now had relatively reliable communications was a G.o.dsend in many ways. He could keep track of all the various operations under way and he could even exchange semi-private correspondence with Sandra back in Baalkpan. He got daily updates-when atmospherics didn't interfere-on the progress made on Walker Walker and all the other projects of the Alliance. He was a little worried about the silence from Laumer, but not and all the other projects of the Alliance. He was a little worried about the silence from Laumer, but not too too worried. The ex-Grik "tankers" they'd sent with both bunker-grade and diesel fuel should arrive there soon. Still, he'd received so much bad, sometimes calamitous news typed as neatly as their battered typewriters could manage on the dwindling message forms, he always accepted them with a trace of apprehension. worried. The ex-Grik "tankers" they'd sent with both bunker-grade and diesel fuel should arrive there soon. Still, he'd received so much bad, sometimes calamitous news typed as neatly as their battered typewriters could manage on the dwindling message forms, he always accepted them with a trace of apprehension.

The news today was anything but bad. In fact, it was almost horrifyingly good. Jim Ellis had discovered Rasik's secret in the form of a battered freighter marooned in the swamps north of Chill-chaap. Clearly, the s.h.i.+p had somehow come through the same Squall they had. Jim hadn't found the s.h.i.+p's log, but her manifest told the story. She'd been attempting a mission similar to the one doomed Langley Langley and a few old freighters had been trying to accomplish: a last-ditch effort to beef up Java's air defenses. and a few old freighters had been trying to accomplish: a last-ditch effort to beef up Java's air defenses. Langley Langley and the freighters-including and the freighters-including Santa Catalina Santa Catalina-had been ferrying P-40 fighters, spare engines, tires, parts, fuel tanks, and millions of rounds of ammunition to the beleaguered island. Langley Langley was caught short and bombed into a sinking wreck. Matt had heard one of the other freighters made it to Tjilatj.a.p, but since there was no nearby airfield, they'd actually a.s.sembled the planes dockside and were attempting to was caught short and bombed into a sinking wreck. Matt had heard one of the other freighters made it to Tjilatj.a.p, but since there was no nearby airfield, they'd actually a.s.sembled the planes dockside and were attempting to tow tow them overland on refugee-choked roads! He didn't know if they'd ever made it to an airstrip or not. Judging by Jim's report, them overland on refugee-choked roads! He didn't know if they'd ever made it to an airstrip or not. Judging by Jim's report, Santa Catalina Santa Catalina had been trying to do the same thing. had been trying to do the same thing.

The only explanation for her condition, position, her very presence in this world, was that she too must have been damaged at sea, pa.s.sed through the Squall, and arrived at a far different Tjilatj.a.p. The Grik must have already sacked Chill-Chaap and the s.h.i.+p's captain, likely wondering where he was, proceeded as far upriver as he could to preserve his cargo and his s.h.i.+p from the deeper waters. Jim found no trace of the crew or the pilots who would have accompanied the planes. Maybe they were still out there somewhere, but more likely they hadn't survived their contact with this terrible world. Matt shook his head. Much the same would probably have happened to Walker Walker and her crew if she hadn't made friends so quickly. and her crew if she hadn't made friends so quickly.

The existence of the s.h.i.+p and her cargo was an incredible stroke of luck, however, maybe even a war winner if they could salvage any of the planes. Jim thought it likely. The manifest totaled twenty-eight aircraft. Curtiss P-40Es! If they saved only half of them, they'd have more than the Philippines had after the first few days of the war. The reason it was horrifying was that Matt wanted those planes now now and he had no way of getting them. Isak Rueben had said that the s.h.i.+p's engines were probably okay, but the fireroom was a shambles. She was also "kind of sunk," according to the report, so there'd be no salvaging her on a shoestring. An ecstatic Ben Mallory quickly fired back a suggestion from Baalkpan that they immediately launch an expedition to recover the planes. If they could hack an airstrip out of the jungle alongside the s.h.i.+p and somehow power her cargo cranes, they could simply a.s.semble the planes and fly them out. and he had no way of getting them. Isak Rueben had said that the s.h.i.+p's engines were probably okay, but the fireroom was a shambles. She was also "kind of sunk," according to the report, so there'd be no salvaging her on a shoestring. An ecstatic Ben Mallory quickly fired back a suggestion from Baalkpan that they immediately launch an expedition to recover the planes. If they could hack an airstrip out of the jungle alongside the s.h.i.+p and somehow power her cargo cranes, they could simply a.s.semble the planes and fly them out.

Matt knew there'd be nothing "simple" about it. The project would require a small army and there'd be no way to keep that secret. They'd also need a higher-grade fuel than the PBY had required and they'd have to cut airstrips everywhere they went to accommodate the planes. He'd been impressed by Jim's initial reaction to remain tight-lipped about the find, but realistically, it probably didn't matter. There was no risk of the Grik or even the j.a.panese infiltrating their ranks, and if they had spies on the island, they were just as likely to find the s.h.i.+p on their own. If the current Allied offensive was successful, they'd soon have the Grik pushed back almost to Ceylon, making long forays by enemy vessels into the Allied rear even more unlikely. Right now, every s.h.i.+p in Matt's squadron was essential where it was. They'd bottled up the approaches to Singapore and captured or destroyed a few s.h.i.+ps-mostly leaving. His a.s.sault was essentially awaiting only Ellis and Dowden Dowden, and the extra weight of metal her broadside might add to the fight. He'd recommend to Adar that they send a small garrison to Tjilatj.a.p and maybe at least begin recovery and stabilization efforts. That made good sense. But right now, his own plate was heaping full.

"A h.e.l.l of a thing," Garrett commented, reading over his shoulder. "If we'd had those planes in the Philippines, we might still be there."

Matt grunted. "We had a h.e.l.l of a lot more than that to start with and it didn't matter much. I don't know. MacArthur might have been some kind of Army genius, but he understood even less about his own Air Corps than he did about naval operations." He frowned. "I kind of wish we had him with us now, though. How's Pete's attack plan coming?"

"Pretty good, I think." Garrett looked at Matt. "Pete's done a swell job. I wouldn't be pining for that Army prima donna if I were you."

Matt laughed. "Not 'pining,' but I do wish I had someone else to bounce Pete's plans off of."

"Don't sell yourself short, Skipper. You've done fine onsh.o.r.e." Garrett looked thoughtful. "Besides, you have Rolak and Queen Maraan. Unlike our sea folk friends, they've been fighting on land all their lives. Pete and Safir did a good job chopping up that Grik force on Madura . . . I mean, B'mbaado."

"They sure did," Matt reflected. He took a breath. "Jim should be here in three days. Four at the outside-if the weather holds. Don't forget, this is the stormy time of year!" He chuckled grimly. Protection from the terrible "Strakkas" that struck the region was another reason they needed Singapore in their hands. "We'll pa.s.s the word via wireless or couriers for all s.h.i.+ps to a.s.semble just west of Bintan Island at that time. We'll have a final conference before we kick off the show."

"You want to invite Jenks?"

Matt nodded. "He's seen why why we fight now and I think he's more sympathetic than ever before. He'll want to see we fight now and I think he's more sympathetic than ever before. He'll want to see how how we fight. I think I'll give him a chance to get in closer this time, if he likes." we fight. I think I'll give him a chance to get in closer this time, if he likes."

Captain Jim Ellis was piped aboard Donaghey Donaghey and received a warm welcome. and received a warm welcome. Dowden Dowden had made a quick pa.s.sage, mostly under sail with the stout winds of some distant storm. He was a little surprised to be openly congratulated for his find-he still hadn't told his crew what he'd seen-and only his wireless operator and exec knew what the flurry of transmissions, prodded mostly by Ben Mallory, were about. had made a quick pa.s.sage, mostly under sail with the stout winds of some distant storm. He was a little surprised to be openly congratulated for his find-he still hadn't told his crew what he'd seen-and only his wireless operator and exec knew what the flurry of transmissions, prodded mostly by Ben Mallory, were about.

"Doesn't matter, Jim," Matt told him. "Adar has already sent a small force to secure the area. He wouldn't let Mallory go; he's still training pilots for the Nancys and he's fit to bust! But if we're successful, he'll have plenty of time to go play with his new toys."

"You're not going to give him a squadron, or wing, or whatever?" Jim asked.

"h.e.l.l, no! He's taught some guys and 'Cats to fly, but he's the only man we've got who's ever actually had real pilot training. He majored in aeronautical engineering at West Point, too. Even flew with Colonel Doolittle a few times. How do you think he got the Nancys up so fast?"

"I'll be d.a.m.ned."

"Yeah. He doesn't brag on it. I didn't know it either until he started pitching for the Nancys in the first place. In hindsight, we never should've let him risk his neck so much in that old PBY Catalina."

"But then we'd all be dead."

Matt nodded philosophically. "True. As a matter of fact, if we still had the d.a.m.n thing, I'd tell him to take it up and scout Singapore for us."

"What do we know?"

"Not much. C'mon, let's adjourn to the wardroom. Juan'll fix you something cool to drink while the rest of the captains and commanders arrive."

Dennis Silva was hunting, as usual, during his free time. Besides being a pleasant diversion for him, it was an increasingly important ch.o.r.e. With so many foreign troops, artisans, and laborers in Baalkpan, the city needed more fresh meat than ever before, and the depleted fis.h.i.+ng fleet was stretched to the limit. The ubiquitous polta fruit supplied a wide variety of nutrients the 'Cats, and apparently humans, needed, and other fruits and some vegetables were used as well, but both species needed plenty of animal protein. That left Silva with all the justification he needed to "go a-huntin' " regularly.

He did sometimes find himself craving some of the strangest things, though-stuff he'd always hated. Like beets. The killing grounds around Baalkpan had been planted with many different varieties of tuber and there was a root that tasted a little like beets that he sort of liked. It was odd. He'd always shunned vegetables as superfluous, useless things that took up s.p.a.ce on his plate where more meat could have been. Now, some days, he figured he'd kill for a tomato-or a mess of black-eyed peas. Regardless, hunting was necessary. It got him out of the "house," away from the women, and let him kill things on a regular basis.

Pam and Risa were swell, but they had a tendency to coddle him. That could get old, despite the benefits. Technically, he was still sort of convalescing, but he felt as good as he figured he ever would. He was up to full speed working in the factory for Campeti or fooling around with Bernie's projects, but when he had any spare time at all, he headed for the jungle with the Hunter.

The Hunter was a scrawny, almost ancient Lemurian with a silver-streaked pelt and several missing teeth. He was barely taller than Rebecca, but like most 'Cats, he was incredibly strong. His weapon of choice was a ma.s.sive crossbow that probably weighed as much as he did, and he carried it with a nonchalant ease Silva could only envy. He had guts too. Silva remembered when "Moe" (he called the Hunter Moe, since if the old 'Cat ever had a real name, he didn't remember it) had used himself himself to bait the super lizard that got Tony Scott so Silva could avenge his friend. They'd finally managed to kill the thing, but it was a close call and one of the reasons Dennis had built his ma.s.sive Super Lizard Gun. So far, he hadn't found any super lizards to test it on. It killed the absolute, literal h.e.l.l out of the big, dangerous rhino-pigs he and Moe pursued for their succulent meat, but rhino-pigs weren't much of a challenge for the thing. He'd taken to waiting for the creatures to bunch up so he could see how many the gun would kill with a single shot. So far, the record was four. to bait the super lizard that got Tony Scott so Silva could avenge his friend. They'd finally managed to kill the thing, but it was a close call and one of the reasons Dennis had built his ma.s.sive Super Lizard Gun. So far, he hadn't found any super lizards to test it on. It killed the absolute, literal h.e.l.l out of the big, dangerous rhino-pigs he and Moe pursued for their succulent meat, but rhino-pigs weren't much of a challenge for the thing. He'd taken to waiting for the creatures to bunch up so he could see how many the gun would kill with a single shot. So far, the record was four.

Enjoyable as any day in the woods was, Dennis and Moe rather doubted they'd get much chance to test the big gun's potential on this trip. In addition to the usual bearers they brought to deal with their kills, Courtney Bradford, Lawrence, and Abel Cook had tagged along. Lawrence's fieldcraft wasn't bad. His species were natural predators, and the little guy had an almost childlike desire to please. He also really liked Silva, even though the big man had shot him once. The fact that his adored Rebecca liked him and considered Silva a demented big brother was probably sufficient explanation. Lawrence wasn't the problem. Courtney Bradford and his young protege, Abel Cook, still had a lot to learn.

The bearers hung back, letting Dennis and Moe do all the hunting, but Bradford and Cook stayed right up with them. It irked Silva a little, but he figured Abel needed to do more "man stuff" and Bradford was, well, Bradford. He didn't come along often. He was a busy, much-sought-after man. He could be a pain in the a.s.s in the field, making too much noise or chasing after a lizard, but Dennis enjoyed it when he was around. Courtney was a hoot, and too much seriousness was hard on Dennis Silva. He missed the conversation Courtney provided, no matter how bizarre.