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belly of the Grik ship not long after its capture. I have spoken to the ‘survivors,’ though such a word mocks them! I have seen the perverted way the Grik twist our faith and use it against us. Speak not of flight! Any who would flee in the face of this scourge is aiding it! They are not only cowards but traitors to their people!” There were shouts of dissent, but some loudly agreed. Anai-Sa brooded in silence.
    “Much has happened since we last met like this,” Matt continued when the uproar began to fade. “Since then we’ve accomplished much, in spite of the doubts of some. Most importantly, we’ve won our first real victory over the enemy. I don’t speak of simply destroying their ships. That’s been done before. Besides, I agree it’s now plain that such small victories are pointless in the face of the numbers the enemy possesses. What we’ve won is priceless intelligence!” He smiled. “We’re no longer as ‘ignorant’ as we were before, and so we can begin to plan for greater victories. Victories that will make a difference. The first such victory should be the relief of Aryaal.”
    “How can it benefit us to spill our blood for them?” asked Kas-Ra-Ar, Keje’s cousin. The question wasn’t confrontational, but genuinely curious. “The Aryaalans have never helped us before.”
    “If we save them from the fate that awaits them in the Grik hulls, I bet they will then,” Matt answered simply. “Don’t you see? The Grik are through ‘probing.’ This is for all the marbles—I mean . . . polta fruit!” He grimaced, wondering how well that would translate. “They’ve taken Singapore, destroyed Tjilatjap . . . possibly others. Now they threaten Surabaya—Aryaal. This is it ! The conquest you’ve feared since you fled them the last time so very long ago!” He blinked appropriately to convey frustration and anger. “Well, I say this time we stop them! This time we throw their asses back!” He stopped and took a breath, wishing he had some water. He was sweating and he knew he was allowing his own frustration over the litany of events that had brought his ship and her people to this moment to color his argument.
    Once again, the long retreat in the face of the Japanese was fresh upon him. The terrifying escape from the Philippines, the lopsided battle of the Java Sea, the doomed retreat from Surabaya and the death of Exeter and Pope and all the others haunted him anew. The fate of Mahan, and the horrors he’d seen in the Grik hold. Not to mention the enigmatic human skull. At that moment, emotionally, it all became one. The Grik had become an arguably far more terrible, but just as youar effort.) There was also the touchy religious angle, which they rightly figured the Baalkpan High Chief could smooth out more easily—with his own people anyway—than either of them could.
    Mainly, though, Matt and Keje wanted Baalkpan to have a real piece of the naval war. Most of the landing force were Baalkpans, and most of their supplies came from there. Baalkpan truly was the “arsenal” of the alliance. Despite that, there was no great floating presence that represented Baalkpan in the order of battle, and the way such things were reckoned by their quintessentially seagoing race, the greater share of honor fell to those whose very homes went in harm’s way. Revenge more than satisfied that requirement of honor, since the plan called for her, the physical representative of Baalkpan, to be first in battle and perhaps even the key to the campaign’s success.
    Matt turned to stare back at the bulk of the fleet. Five of the “flat-top”-sized Homes lumbered slowly in their wake, screened by forty of the largest feluccas in Baalkpan’s fishing fleet. Somehow, they’d managed to arm them all to some degree. The feluccas each carried at least one of the huge crossbow-type weapons that had usually been associated with the main armaments of Homes. In fact, most had come from the Homes. A few of the