"In any event, it was the boy Abel who brought it back to my mind; he was quite fascinated with dinosaurs before his unpleasant experiences turned him slightly against them. But the point is we, the scientific community of which I consider myself a part, have always a.s.sumed dinosaurs were cold-blooded reptiles! Monstrous beasts, plodding along, lying in the sun like lizards on a rock, but we were wrong! If the fauna of this world is truly descended from the same fauna as our own, there would be a lot of egg on a lot of faces at the Royal Society, if I could ever report!"

"Well . . . that's amazing, Courtney," Matt said dryly, "but what's your point? I'm afraid 'lizards' has pretty much stuck as slang for 'Grik.' I doubt you're going to get folks to start calling 'em 'birds' at this point. Be happy with your win over 'Lemurians.' "

"No! That's not what I'm saying at all!"

"Then for G.o.d's sake, for once in your life, say what you mean!" hissed Gray, exasperated. Matt looked at the chief and raised his hand, but couldn't help agreeing with him.

"I'm trying to! Aren't you listening at all?" Bradford asked forcefully, and Gray rolled his eyes. "The thing is, all my various preoccupations pushed some rather more important thoughts from my head. One such was retrieved by your ridiculous comment that the 'exception proves the rule.' I know you don't believe that," he hastened to add, "and neither do I. That brings us to some rather disturbing thoughts I've had regarding our arrival on this world. We already know we must have been given, or been the victims of, some exception to the rules we knew, because, well, here we are."

"Clearly," Matt said.

"We also now know that exception wasn't necessarily an exception at all."

"s.h.i.t, Mr. Bradford-'scuse me, Skipper-but just spit it out. I'm getting an 'exceptional' headache trying to figure you out!" Gray whispered, but Matt shushed him. He thought he knew where Bradford was going.

"Very well," Courtney continued, a little stiffly. "Jenks's ancestors came through a . . . phenomenon much like the one we did. They call it the Pa.s.sage, and it occurred in relatively close geographic proximity to our Squall. We also agree there may have been other similar such episodes over the centuries. Maybe it happens quite often, in fact, but the transportees are otherwise in smaller, more vulnerable ships with smaller crews, who have no means of protecting themselves in this more hostile world. They either don't survive the event, or are lost before locals like the Lemurians discover them and give them aid. The mysterious fate of the crew of the Tjilatj.a.p transport, Santa Catalina Santa Catalina, and even the original crew of our own lamented PBY would seem to support that theory. As noted, a few men in a fishing boat would have poor prospects of survival.

"We still don't know what all else might have come through our Squall with us us. Four ships now, counting the transport, plus a submarine and an airplane-that we know of. Now we learn of this Dominion that controls a portion of the Americas. Princess Rebecca is a dear child, but her history is not up to that of Jenks or Mr. O'Casey. They told me that this Dominion was founded by some bizarre combination of survivors from an 'Acapulco' or 'Manila' galleon and remnants of an even older, possibly pre-Columbian American tribe. I won't go into the details of that twisted union at present, but it was the Acapulco galleon that rang the first warning bell."

"What are you talkin' about?" Gray asked. "What's a 'Aca-poolco galleon'?"

"What I'm talking about is that whatever phenomenon transported us to this world may not be nearly as unique as we first believed. Whatever conditions arise to trigger it might-might, I say-also ensure that it is a one-way transfer. I don't begin to understand the mechanics of it yet, but that at least seems certain, since we've never encountered any lumbering Lemurian Homes or mountain fish on our our world." He paused. "Or maybe world." He paused. "Or maybe that that is the key!" is the key!"

Captain Reddy and Chief Gray looked at each other. Evidently, Courtney was on one of his stream-of-consciousness rolls, and they might as well let it run its course.

"What key?" Matt prodded.

"Metal! As far as we know, only recently-relatively speaking-has any quant.i.ty of metal metal been abroad on the oceans of this world! Perhaps large quant.i.ties of iron contribute some form of electromagnetic aspect to the phenomenon-or the superior conductivity of the bronze guns, copper fittings . . . precious nonferrous metals of our predecessors. . . . Oh, dear me, Captain, an entirely new avenue of contemplation has opened before me!" been abroad on the oceans of this world! Perhaps large quant.i.ties of iron contribute some form of electromagnetic aspect to the phenomenon-or the superior conductivity of the bronze guns, copper fittings . . . precious nonferrous metals of our predecessors. . . . Oh, dear me, Captain, an entirely new avenue of contemplation has opened before me!"

"Well, let's finish our little trip down the avenue you were already on, for now," Gray almost pleaded. "What's Aca-poolco got to do with anything?"

"Oh, dear, I do apologize! Let's see, yes. Only that our little Squall was not unique. Probably not even regionally regionally unique! There might well be other human civilizations beyond those we know of scattered about this hostile world. Perhaps many more. Now you understand, of course!" unique! There might well be other human civilizations beyond those we know of scattered about this hostile world. Perhaps many more. Now you understand, of course!"

Finally Matt understood. Bradford was right. The question had been sitting there in front of all of them, but they'd just been too busy to notice it and ask. The possible answer chilled him in spite of the warm day. "Acapulco galleons were Spanish treasure ships, Boats," he explained. "They sailed once a year or so to Acapulco from the Spanish Philippines loaded with loot. We studied Commodore Anson's circ.u.mnavigation at the Academy. He captured one of the things with a fifty-gun ship-Centurion, I think it was-and the loot set most of his crew up for life. At least, that's the story."

"So? I mean, it's a neat story and all, but what good is a bunch of Spanish treasure to us?" Gray still didn't get it.

"None," Matt said. "None I can think of now, anyway." He grinned, but then his expression turned serious again. "The problem is, no Acapulco galleon would have ever sailed into the Java Sea. If that's indeed what it was, that means whatever happened to us could've happened in other places places and not just other times, all over the world. Might happen again. To think otherwise would be expecting an exception to these screwy and not just other times, all over the world. Might happen again. To think otherwise would be expecting an exception to these screwy new new rules." rules."

"Indeed," Bradford said again. "I would think it's inevitable. Something, some force, connects this world with ours. In the past, our world's oceans were vast, mostly empty places, yet there have been many unexplained disappearances there. Perhaps some of those unfortunates wound up here as well. But right now, on our earth, a global war is under way and the seas are packed with many thousands of modern, quite seaworthy vessels. If my theory is correct, I fear it's just a matter of time before we meet another lost traveler like ourselves, and it could happen anytime, anywhere."

For a long moment there was silence on the bridge. Chief Quartermaster's Mate Norman Kutas at the wheel, who'd clearly heard at least the gist of the conversation, finally broke it. "Well, if we do run into somebody else," he said, "I hope to G.o.d they're on our side. We got enough folks mad at us as it is."

Glaring at Kutas, Bradford lowered his voice still further. "There is yet another quite bizarre possibility," he said.

"Oh, no," moaned the Bosun.

Bradford ignored him. "Just as we've discovered beyond any serious possible debate that there are two two earths, as it were, how can we a.s.sume there are not many, earths, as it were, how can we a.s.sume there are not many, many many more?" more?"

Walker put in briefly at Paga-Daan, long enough only for Matt to go ash.o.r.e and express his sympathies and for his ship to fill her bunkers from one of the tankers moored there. There were two so far and more on the way. Most would probably take their time, creeping along the archipelago and down the Mindanao coast. Matt couldn't blame their captains, but he wanted to make sure the commanders and crews of the ships already there, that had taken the more dangerous route across the Celebes Sea, were recognized. Bunkers full, put in briefly at Paga-Daan, long enough only for Matt to go ash.o.r.e and express his sympathies and for his ship to fill her bunkers from one of the tankers moored there. There were two so far and more on the way. Most would probably take their time, creeping along the archipelago and down the Mindanao coast. Matt couldn't blame their captains, but he wanted to make sure the commanders and crews of the ships already there, that had taken the more dangerous route across the Celebes Sea, were recognized. Bunkers full, Walker Walker steamed away before sunset, haze blurring the tops of three funnels. steamed away before sunset, haze blurring the tops of three funnels.

Churning south-southeast, Matt now had a choice to make. He could continue in Jenks's wake until he caught the Imperial within two or three days at most, or he could lose another day and swing south to Talaud. Irvin Laumer and his crew had been out of touch since the loss of Simms Simms, and Talaud was a dangerous place. Once he caught up with Jenks he'd be slowed down, regardless, and they had to be closing the gap on Billingsly. Achilles Achilles was bigger and faster than was bigger and faster than Ajax Ajax and she'd been replenished periodically, allowing her to steam ahead in the face of contrary or indifferent winds. But where could and she'd been replenished periodically, allowing her to steam ahead in the face of contrary or indifferent winds. But where could Ajax Ajax refuel? She might have stopped and cut trees for her boiler on any number of islands, but that would have slowed her even more. Matt doubted Billingsly would have done so initially, but chances were the man considered himself safe from pursuit by now. He knew the Alliance had nothing beyond the Philippines, and refuel? She might have stopped and cut trees for her boiler on any number of islands, but that would have slowed her even more. Matt doubted Billingsly would have done so initially, but chances were the man considered himself safe from pursuit by now. He knew the Alliance had nothing beyond the Philippines, and Simms Simms and the feluccas were the last gauntlet he had to pa.s.s. He would be in for a surprise. and the feluccas were the last gauntlet he had to pa.s.s. He would be in for a surprise.

But what of Laumer? With the full concurrence of his officers, Matt decided he had to check on the young lieutenant's situation and at least leave him a transmitter. They recrossed the Celebes Sea in the dark of night and a severe rain squall, sonar pounding the depths. It was in these very waters, this bottleneck to the vast Pacific-or Eastern Sea-that Walker Walker had once encountered had once encountered two two mountain fish in close proximity. The sonar had chased one away and they were pretty sure they'd killed the other one, but there was something about the area apparently, maybe the food-bearing currents, that allowed a higher percentage of the monsters to coexist than usual. In any event, in addition to the sonar, they made the crossing with extra lookouts, keen-eyed Lemurians scanning the sea for basking behemoths under the glare of the searchlights. None were seen. mountain fish in close proximity. The sonar had chased one away and they were pretty sure they'd killed the other one, but there was something about the area apparently, maybe the food-bearing currents, that allowed a higher percentage of the monsters to coexist than usual. In any event, in addition to the sonar, they made the crossing with extra lookouts, keen-eyed Lemurians scanning the sea for basking behemoths under the glare of the searchlights. None were seen.

Dawn revealed Talaud's hazy outline under an oppressive gray sky. Campeti was serving as Walker Walker's gunnery officer for the voyage and he had the deck. He knocked quietly on the charthouse hatch and opened it a crack. Matt had taken to sleeping on a cot inside, intent even in sleep on the green flashes that lit the quiet sonarman's scope. He liked to be handy if he was needed, but also, even though the new mattresses they'd made for the ship's crew were comfortable, n.o.body had gotten around to fixing the fan in his stateroom. It got awfully stuffy in there.

"Captain, you awake?" Campeti asked.

"Sure," Matt said, sitting up. He glanced at the sonarman. A 'Cat was usually in the chair, but Fairchild, Mahan Mahan's chief sonarman or sound man, had taken the watch for this stretch. "Anything?" he asked.

"Nothing, Skipper. We're going too fast to really tell, but since we're trying to scare stuff off instead of hunting, I guess that's a good thing."

Matt grunted. "What's up, Campeti?"

"Talaud's off the starboard bow. It looks . . . kinda queer."

"I'm on my way."

Staas-Fin, one of Ronson's best electrician's mates, stood behind the big bra.s.s wheel and Courtney and Spanky were on the bridge when Matt joined them, putting on his hat. He hadn't shaved. Of all the crew, Matt always tried to keep himself clean-shaven, but that was hard to do, sleeping in the charthouse. He needed to see if Staas-Fin, or "Finny," could fix his fan. Otherwise, he might as well give up and grow a beard like the rest of the men. He wasn't ready to let Juan shave him on the bridge in the captain's chair. "What's up?" he repeated.

Spanky pointed at the island. "Well, it looks a little different, for starters," he said.

"Wow," Matt muttered, agreeing. The quiescent volcanic mountain he remembered had grown significantly since he saw it last and the thick haze either came from it, or was the aftermath of some action on its part. The air had an acrid taste. The top of the mountain was lost to view, but there were occasional flashes of light, either from lightning or maybe even lava arcing into the sky.

"Fascinating!" Bradford exclaimed.

"Yeah. I hope our guys are all right," Matt said.

"Hey," said Spanky, "where're all the d.a.m.n birds?" On their previous visit the ship had been swarmed with lizard birds and even some real birds that pestered them constantly and defecated all over the ship. n.o.body replied. They had no answer.

Just before noon, Walker Walker rounded the northeast point of the island and entered the wide lagoon where they'd found the submarine. The sky was even blacker, but the air had cleared with a northerly breeze. At least they could breathe. Anchoring in almost the exact spot as before, they swung out the launch and steered for sh.o.r.e. Matt, Spanky, and the Bosun were accompanied by St.i.tes, Chack, and six Marines. The Marines were the ones Chack thought had gained the most proficiency with their muskets. rounded the northeast point of the island and entered the wide lagoon where they'd found the submarine. The sky was even blacker, but the air had cleared with a northerly breeze. At least they could breathe. Anchoring in almost the exact spot as before, they swung out the launch and steered for sh.o.r.e. Matt, Spanky, and the Bosun were accompanied by St.i.tes, Chack, and six Marines. The Marines were the ones Chack thought had gained the most proficiency with their muskets.

At first glance, the camp around the submarine looked deserted. A lot of work had clearly been done and the sub itself actually seemed afloat in a basin on the beach. No smoke rose from the generator engine boiler, however, and as they drew near they could see a literal swarm of what looked like bizarre lobster corpses on the beach.

"What the h.e.l.l?" Gray murmured. The launch's engine seemed to attract someone's attention, because as the bow nudged against the sand, a figure stood up from behind hasty-looking breastworks.

"Captain Reddy, is that you?" came a cry. The men and 'Cats jumped out of the boat and advanced. Other faces, eyes drooping with fatigue, peered over the breastworks as they approached.

"My G.o.d, Lieutenant Laumer?" Matt asked incredulously. The scruffy beard and tattered clothes left the man almost unrecognizable.

"Yes, sir, it's me!" Laumer said, grinning. He looked out at the Lagoon. "Walker, sir! There she is! Boy, is she a sight for sore eyes! Looks almost new!"

"What happened here, Lieutenant?" Matt asked, glancing at one of the dead creatures. It did look something like a lobster, although it was skinnier, proportionately, and appeared less heavily armored. The head was different and the leg arrangement looked more like a spider's. The pincers were long and tapered like a scorpion's. Most of the corpses looked like they'd been blown open fairly easily with bullets.

"Well, sir, we've been making decent progress on the boat. She should be ready for sea before long. We put diesel in her tanks and have one engine running. The problem is getting her off the beach. We were going to use Simms Simms to dredge a channel, kind of kedge it out, but Captain Lelaa hasn't returned from her mission to intercept Billingsly." He looked down. "I was sorry to hear about . . . what happened at Baalkpan." to dredge a channel, kind of kedge it out, but Captain Lelaa hasn't returned from her mission to intercept Billingsly." He looked down. "I was sorry to hear about . . . what happened at Baalkpan."

"Yes, well, chasing him is our business now. I hate to tell you, but Billingsly and Ajax Ajax destroyed destroyed Simms Simms and a felucca commanded by the High Chief of Paga-Daan. Captain Lelaa may have been aboard and a felucca commanded by the High Chief of Paga-Daan. Captain Lelaa may have been aboard Ajax Ajax when it happened, but there were few survivors otherwise. I'm sorry," he added when he saw Laumer's stricken expression. when it happened, but there were few survivors otherwise. I'm sorry," he added when he saw Laumer's stricken expression.

"But . . ." Irvin straightened. "That leaves us in kind of a tight spot," he said.

"I'll say," said Gray. "What the h.e.l.l happened here?"

Irvin rubbed his nose. "A few weeks ago, one of these things got in our basin. Killed one of our guys. We killed it, but it wasn't easy. Scary as they look, they're not only quick on their feet, but they can squirt a jet of water like a cannon shot!"

"Indeed?" muttered Bradford, stooping to examine the head of one of the things.

"Yeah. Anyway, we didn't see any more for a while, but then, day before yesterday, the mountain let loose, bigger than it has yet. We had critters coming at us out of the woods and we figured we'd better fort up. Next thing we knew, all these spider-lobsters, or whatever they are, started charging up on the beach. It started slow, just a few at a time, but it kept growing, so we threw up another breastwork here until we had a little fort. Dug like maniacs! We finished just in time, because the next thing we knew, there were dozens, hundreds of the things! Just about shot ourselves dry." He shook his head. "The situation looked pretty bleak without more ammo. The new loads work okay, but they sure foul up a gun. The Thompson completely seized up a couple of times and we had to dump it in water."

Matt took a breath and looked longingly at the submarine. "You've done a great job here, Lieutenant, but I think you should prepare to evacuate. We have some ammunition we could leave with you, but not much more than it would take to drive off another a.s.sault like this one. Another supply ship is on its way, but it may not arrive in time to kedge out your channel. This mission has already gone above and beyond what I ever expected of you."

Irvin set his jaw. Later, Matt would realize that he probably hadn't chosen those last words very well. "Sir," Laumer said, "with all respect, I think we've earned the right to finish this job." He looked around at the nods of his crew. "We don't know if the spider-lobsters will even come back. It might have been a onetime deal. Lots of weird stuff going on." He gestured at the mountain. "I think it has something to do with that. The thing is, if it blows its top, we'll never get this boat out of here!"

"If it does that, there won't be enough left of any of you to catch in a b.u.t.terfly net!" Gray said.

Irvin nodded. "Maybe. But d.a.m.n it, Captain, we're almost done! All we need is a couple of weeks with a ship, an anchor, and a windla.s.s!"

"And no storms to fill everything you've done in with sand!" Gray added.

"That would be nice," Irvin admitted.

Matt rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Like I told you once, we need that boat, but we need you and your people more. Here's the deal. We'll leave you a transmitter and a receiver. If things get hairy, there'll be no goofing around! You call for help, understand? Paga-Daan can have a felucca here to pick your people up in just a few days. Leave all the equipment. The same goes for when the supply ship arrives. Use it however you need to, but if things get bad, get the h.e.l.l out, understood?"

Irvin sighed with relief. For a moment, he'd seen failure staring him in the face and only Captain Reddy could have p.r.o.nounced that sentence upon him. No storm or spider-lobsters or even a volcano was going to stop him, but Captain Reddy could have. He saluted. "Thanks, sir. We will will succeed!" succeed!"

Matt was moody as Walker Walker steamed out of the lagoon and into the open Pacific. He'd begun to realize the effect his words might have had on Laumer, and even though he hadn't meant to, he'd practically challenged the young lieutenant to stay. He felt like a heel. He got up from his chair and stepped to the chart table. Kutas had marked the spot where they should rendezvous with Jenks, according to the latest position fixes O'Casey sent. One more day, maybe two, and they'd slow their sprint and take station with the Imperial frigate, maintaining visual contact, but sweeping east while covering the widest possible area. Apparently, the Empire had a few settlements in the Marshall Islands, but according to Jenks, they were notoriously independent places. Billingsly would find no haven there. He must be making for one of the main islands of the Hawaiian chain, probably New Ireland, as Jenks referred to it. The island was a Company hotbed and the center of its administration. New Scotland-was the primary naval base, and Hawaii itself was New Britain. None of the islands seemed "right" to Matt, when he'd looked at Jenks's charts. Their shapes were distinctly changed from what he remembered. Most geographic differences they'd discovered so far were subtle, but the "Hawaiian" chain was more radically altered. He wondered why that was. steamed out of the lagoon and into the open Pacific. He'd begun to realize the effect his words might have had on Laumer, and even though he hadn't meant to, he'd practically challenged the young lieutenant to stay. He felt like a heel. He got up from his chair and stepped to the chart table. Kutas had marked the spot where they should rendezvous with Jenks, according to the latest position fixes O'Casey sent. One more day, maybe two, and they'd slow their sprint and take station with the Imperial frigate, maintaining visual contact, but sweeping east while covering the widest possible area. Apparently, the Empire had a few settlements in the Marshall Islands, but according to Jenks, they were notoriously independent places. Billingsly would find no haven there. He must be making for one of the main islands of the Hawaiian chain, probably New Ireland, as Jenks referred to it. The island was a Company hotbed and the center of its administration. New Scotland-was the primary naval base, and Hawaii itself was New Britain. None of the islands seemed "right" to Matt, when he'd looked at Jenks's charts. Their shapes were distinctly changed from what he remembered. Most geographic differences they'd discovered so far were subtle, but the "Hawaiian" chain was more radically altered. He wondered why that was.

Walker could just barely make it to Hawaii before her bunkers ran dry, but what then? Matt was counting on the tankers following them to the Marshalls-if their crews didn't chicken out or if mountain fish didn't eat them. Regardless, could just barely make it to Hawaii before her bunkers ran dry, but what then? Matt was counting on the tankers following them to the Marshalls-if their crews didn't chicken out or if mountain fish didn't eat them. Regardless, Walker Walker would be stuck there until she could refuel. He didn't know what awaited them in New Britain, but he wasn't going to arrive with empty bunkers. All he and Jenks could hope to do was catch Billingsly somewhere in the wide expanses that separated the Carolines. would be stuck there until she could refuel. He didn't know what awaited them in New Britain, but he wasn't going to arrive with empty bunkers. All he and Jenks could hope to do was catch Billingsly somewhere in the wide expanses that separated the Carolines.

"We're coming for you, you son of a b.i.t.c.h!" he muttered under his breath.

CHAPTER 23.

"You may tell Captain Rajendra he can ask to speak to the mo on if he likes," Princess Rebecca retorted sharply, "and he will be much more likely to get what he wants than by asking to speak to me!"

"But, Your Highness!" the boy in the pa.s.sageway whispered urgently, "the captain had no choice! If he had refused the order, he would have been placed under arrest! How then could he a.s.sist you and your friends?"

"He is a dispa.s.sionate murderer," Rebecca proclaimed. "A stain upon the honor of the Navy and the Empire!"

"Now, hold on just a second," Silva whispered in the darkness. It was almost pitch-black in the brig. They were supposed to be asleep, and no lights were allowed at this time of night. "Rajendra wants us to trust him, does he? How does he mean to make us?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean why why should we trust him? We need proof. Real proof, not just a extra piece o' cheese." should we trust him? We need proof. Real proof, not just a extra piece o' cheese."

"Well . . . what do you want?"

"I want my G.o.dd.a.m.n guns, but I bet they'd be missed. They keepin' 'em in the armory? The magazine?"

"The aft magazine," replied the boy. "It is the most secure place on the ship. The Marines' arms are stored there as well, with ready ammunition. Besides, your largest gun would not fit in a weapons locker."

"Hmm. You're prob'ly right, at that. Tell you what. I want three things. First, I want a key to this here lock."

"But-"

"Lookie here, you want us to trust him or not? It ain't like we're gonna break out an' run loose all over the ship. I just want a key to where I can get us outta here if the time comes. 'Sides, what if the ship gets ate by one o' them big fish? We'd be stuck in here." That thought actually gave Silva the creeps. Earlier that day, the great guns had opened up, firing furiously for some time. Three full broadsides. At first they thought a battle was under way, until they heard the guns had been used to frighten off a mountain fish.

"Very well. I will see what I can do."

"Next thing I want is our position. Our exact position!"

"Why?"

"Never you mind. If we take to trustin' you, we'll tell you why. One other thing. I want a lantern. A little one so we can look at our map in the dark. It's too hard to go over it in the daytime 'cause you never know when somebody's peekin' in the door at us."

"I have a one-sided lantern in my quarters," said the boy. Dennis knew he was a midshipman or something and he actually did trust him, at least. For one thing, the little guy was clearly terrified of Billingsly.

"That sounds fine, just fine. You do that, and maybe I can talk the princess into speakin' a word or two to Rajendra if he happens to mosey by."

"Thank you, sir!"

"You bet. Now run along before you get caught-but before you go, there's one last, final little thing."

"Sir?"

"I want all that stuff tonight, see?"

"I . . . I will do my best," whispered the boy a little shakily. They heard his quiet footsteps retreat.

Silva turned to the others in the brig. He couldn't really see more than dark shapes in the gloom, but he knew where everyone was. "Good work, li'l sister," he said to Rebecca. "He seemed ready to pee himself. I figger somethin's up and Rajendra thinks he'd better do somethin' before it's too late."

"It does seem that way," Sandra said in a worried tone. "Maybe they think they're safe enough from pursuit that they can get rid of the 'extra' hostages."

"I fear that may be the case," Rebecca said. "Billingsly no longer even pretends to care what I do or where I go. Nor does he seem to think it important to maintain the fiction of my status aboard. He may plan to eliminate more than us."

Silva doubted Billingsly was through with Rebecca yet, but she might be right about the rest. "Cap'n Lelaa?" he asked.

"Rajendra is a murderer," she said miserably. She'd been badly traumatized by the destruction of her ship, and for quite a while, all she'd done was lie curled in a ball in a corner of the cell. Finally, however, she'd begun to take some interest in their situation. She was a naval officer and she couldn't indulge in self-pity forever. Silva was glad she was snapping out of it. When things. .h.i.t the fan, they were going to have to move fast. He knew Sandra, Rebecca, and Lawrence had plenty of guts, but though he didn't dislike her, he considered Sister Audry a deadweight. He didn't need another one to worry about when the time came.