though, remember: we need practical warships, not pie in the sky.”
“Or a pigboat in a poke,” Silva murmured down at Lawrence, and Laumer fired a scathing look at him before replying, “Aye, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Matt nodded.
“You ain’t gonna stick me on that big, leakin’ weenie, are you, Skipper?” Silva spoke up. It wasn’t really a question.
“No. That would be a waste of your few real talents, and you’d be much worse than useless to Lieutenant Laumer. That said, though you are going to Baalkpan, you’re not on the loose. When not directly involved in the assignment you’re about to receive, you belong to Bernie Sandison in Ordnance. As far as he’s concerned, you’re still AWOL. If you don’t do exactly what he says, he can hang you, for all I care.”
“I swear,” Silva mumbled, barely audible. “How come folks are always shakin’ ropes at me?”
“What was that?” Spanky demanded.
“Nothin’, sir,” Silva said, suddenly making a caricature of the position of attention. “Aye, aye, sir! I’ll stick to Bernie like malaria! Why, he won’t be able to scrape me off with assi-tone—but I’ll be back with Walker when her refit’s done . . . Won’t I?”
“We’ll see,” Matt said seriously, stifling a chuckle. “In the meantime, Adar still wants that expedition into the interior of Borno, to make contact with those ‘jungle lizards’ you discovered. I think it’s past time myself, now that we know not everybody who looks Grik is Grik.” He grinned at Lawrence, then looked back at Dennis. “We also know for a fact that looking Grik doesn’t save them from the Grik either, so they have a stake in this war whether they want it—or know it—or not.” Matt’s eyebrows rose. “According to General Alden, we need jungle fighters, for scouts if nothing else, and we might use them as commandos too. Adar’s already begun accumulating supplies and personnel for the expedition. The ’Cat hunter, Moe, a couple of Chinakru’s Sa’aarans, and even some of the Grik we captured at Aryaal have committed to participate.”
There was a murmur in the wardroom over that. When they left Baalkpan, little progress had been made toward communicating with the creatures.
“So, I guess I’ve also committed to participate?” Silva asked, arousing chuckles.
“Yes, you have,” Matt replied seriously. “You and Lawrence will ensure the safety of the expedition, and do whatever you can to make it a success.”
“Who’s gonna be in charge?”
“Abel Cook has been commissioned an ensign, and he’ll be your superior officer. With Courtney in the east, Mr. Cook is the best-qualified man to lead this . . .” Matt looked thoughtful for a moment, then smiled. “This Corps of Discovery. I know he’s awful young, but as you know, he’s got a level head—and I’m sure he’ll listen to you. I know he’s learned to value your . . . opinions . . . in dangerous situations.”
Cook had been one of a number of civilian refugees from Java, mostly children of diplomats and other big shots, aboard S-19. Since his rescue, he’d been Courtney Bradford’s protégé in the natural sciences. He’d also been abducted and ultimately marooned along with Sandra, Silva, Princess Rebecca, Lawrence, Imperial Midshipman Stuart Brassey, Lelaa-Tal-Cleraan, Sister Audry . . . and others not as lucky. He’d packed considerable adventure into his barely sixteen years, and the gangly teen had generally comported himself well by all accounts.
“Cook’s a good kid,” Silva said thoughtfully. “And he’s probably been livin’ in a igloo made outta Courtney’s books since he got back to Baalkpan. He’s a good choice.” He chuckled. “I figger his biggest problem’ll be givin’ me orders!”
“You may have to teach him how,” Matt agreed, “and I feel a little guilty inflicting you on him, but he’ll need you. Tell him to feel free to accept a few more volunteers, if he
Learning to Kill: Stories