«What confirms the depravity of the Aryaalans, however,» Nakja-Mur continued, «is that they often war among themselves! They are constantly at war, one faction against another, and they often repel visitors with violence. I cannot help but wonder, even if we aid them, will they not simply turn on us as yet another enemy?»

«We have to try.»

«Perhaps. But it will take another meeting, I suppose, and you will have to be very convincing.»

«Sure,» said Matt. «We’ll have another meeting. We need one, bigger than before. But that’s beside the point. Have you boarded the Grik ship yet? Spoken to any of the survivors?» Nakja-Mur shook his head. «You need to do that. Then you’ll understand. This is a fight to the death. To the end. Total war and no more goofing around. Even if you could flee, like the sea Homes can, they’ll catch you eventually because that’s what they do.» Matt paused. «You told me before we left on the last expedition to find out what we could, that you’d do anything to keep the Grik away. Did you mean that?»

«Of course!»

«Well, then, if we’re not going to fight them here, we’ll have to fight them somewhere else. Let’s do it where we might have some help.»

The gathering in Nakja-Mur’s Great Hall was even larger than when they’d debated the previous expedition. This time the massive structure was nearly packed. Those present weren’t just the High Chiefs of the Homes in the bay either, but their advisors, Sky Priests and senior war leaders as well. Alden, Shinya, along with their Marine and Guard officers and senior NCOs, represented Baalkpan’s armed forces. As predicted, some sea Homes left, althouf the now «veteran» Marines who’d participated in the bloody boarding action stayed busy drilling everyone on the new, larger parade ground that used to be jungle. There was no more complaining, and even the warriors from the Homes in the bay rotated ashore for drill. And in the harbor, the unpleasant, unwanted task of refitting the Grik ship progressed.

Matt wasn’t entirely clear about Lemurian funeral conventions, but he knew they preferred to be burned so their life force, or soul, could be carried to the heavens with the rising smoke. There, they would rejoin in the firmament those who’d gone before. He wasn’t sure if the People believed they became stars after death, or if the stars guided their journeys there much as they did below. Maybe a little of both. It was clear to him, however, that the ’Cats would really have preferred to just burn the thing that they believed still held the souls of Lemurians who’d been tortured and eaten by the enemy. He tried to explain that if all went well, the Grik ship would soon become the second-fastest gun platform in the world. Much as he’d have liked to defer to their cultural preferences, they didn’t have time to build another ship of the type. They would start some, certainly, and incorporate many refinements, but for now he was going to need that ship.

The People were aware of the advantages. They knew how fast and maneuverable the enemy ships were, compared to their own lumbering Homes. The idea of arming such a ship with cannon appealed to them as well. They just didn’t want to use that ship. It was the one instance where Captain Reddy’s military plans were met with real resistance. He sympathized, but he wouldn’t bend. The crisis was finally solved by Adar, who argued that the trapped souls would surely welcome the chance for revenge, and using the tool of their own murderers to help claim that vengeance would make achieving it all the more sweet. They would clean it out and give it a name. They would re-rig and repair the damage it had suffered, but unlike Walker, or Big Sal, or, hopefully, Mahan, it would never, could never truly be a live thing.

Matt was grateful for Adar’s assistance. He hadn’t been sure which side of the argument the Sky Priest would take. Nakja-Mur’s aged Sky Priest, Naga, had begun to defer more and more to Adar in matters of «belligerent spiritual guidance.» Big Sal’s «head witch doctor,» as he was sometimes affectionately called by some Americans, had almost visibly swelled in importance and prestige. He didn’t flaunt it, and he certainly didn’t abuse the power, but he did have greater influence than ever before. His approval had been key. In word and deed, Adar had become the most outspoken advocate of this «total war» no matter what it took. He’d taken to heart his vow not to rest until the Grik were destroyed. At Adar’s urging, in spite of their distaste, gangs of workers dutifully, if uncomfortably, toiled on the Grik ship, getting it ready for sea.

Light streamed through the Great Hall’s open shutters and motes of dust drifted in the beams. Loud voices and shouted conversations carried on around Matt, Lieutenant Mallory, Courtney Bradford, Alan Letts, and Sandra Tucker, where they stood beside Nakja-Mur and his entourage, as well as Keje and Adar. Nakja-Mur stood, obese but powerful, dressed in his usual red kilt and gold-embroidered cloak that contrasted with his shiny dark fur. Fur with growing splashes of white. Matt thought of it as his «High Chief suit,» since he’d always dressed thus when Matt saw him. Adar’s purple robe with embroidered stars across the shoulders was an equally constant garment. The hood was thrown back, revealing his almost silver pelt and piercing gray eyes. Matt’s friend Keje was dressed in a warlike manner, as Matt had first seen him after Walker nd, by so doing, joined them in this terrible war. His armor consisted of engraved copper plates fastened to the tough hide of a plesiosaur they called «gri-kakka.» At his side was a short, scimitar-shaped hacking sword called a skota, and cradled in his arm was a copper helmet, adorned with the striated tail plumage of a Grik. He also wore a red cloak fastened at his throat by interlocked Grik hind claws. Beneath the armor, as protection from chafing, he wore a blue tunic embroidered with fanciful designs. Other than the Americans, he wore the only «shirt» in the hall. All the ’Cats the destroyermen had met seemed to wear as little as they could manage, usually just a light kilt. Even the females went disconcertingly topless, and their very human, albeit furry, breasts were a constant distraction for the sex-starved destroyermen.

Large-scale addresses were rare among the People, and there was no way to speak directly to such a gathering from within its midst. Therefore, an elevated platform, or stage, had been constructed near the center of the hall where the Great Tree rose through the floor and soared high overhead to pass through the ceiling. Matt had seen the huge Galla tree many times now, but he was always amazed by its size and by the fact that he’d seen only one other like it. The one growing from the heart of Big Sal. He supposed other Homes had similar trees, and he wondered again if it was possible they were descendants of the trees the Lemurians had known in their ancient home.

The crowd was growing restless, anxious.

At a nod from Nakja-Mur, he stepped onto the stage. Immediately there was a respectful silence in the Great Hall — a much different reception than the last time he’d spoken to this assembly. Of course, he’d given them a «victory» since then — such as it was. He paced the small platform for a moment, staring at the upturned faces while Chack joined him to interpret. Many of those present had actually learned a smattering of English, but Matt hadn’t yet acquired a conversational ability in their tongue and he was slightly embarrassed by that. He’d always thought he was pretty good with languages, but there was something about the strange, yowling words of the People that absolutely defeated him. Bradford, Letts, and even Sandra could jabber away like natives — at least as far as he could tell — but he was just as likely to insult somebody as to tell them it was a temperate day. Maybe it was a mental block, or his mind was too busy. Whatever the reason, he was glad Chack was there.