The Heirs of Babylon by Glen Cook Page B

Kurt, come over here," Hans shouted across the bridge. "See what's coming. Look! Coming around the
    Rock to meet us. Isn't she beautiful?"

    A ship was steaming to meet them, a titan of a vessel.

    "Battlewagon," Kurt murmured. "I thought they were all gone. What a monster!"

    A monster indeed. A killer. If Jager was an iron wolf,
    this, then, was Tyrannosaurus rex in case-hardened steel.
    Surely the Australians could have nothing like her. Surely
    her huge guns would rule the ocean.

    "Look it up! Look it up!" Hans demanded.

    Kurt got the copy of Jane's. He turned to United States,
    where he remembered having seen a similar ship. "Here
    it is, Hans." He handed the book over, tapping a picture.

    "What does it say?"

    "How would I know?"

    Hans carried the book to the chart table and bent over
    it, as if trying to puzzle out the statistics beneath the
    photograph. His -eyes grew big with wonder. "The Australians can't beat this! Wonder where they found her?" He bent over the book again, studying the text below the
    statistics. "What flag?"

75
    Kurt took a look through binoculars. "High Com-
    mand."

    "Boatswain," said Lindemann, "Set the Sea Detail.
    Kurt, get Beck's anchor chart."

    As he was fixing the chart to the table, Kurt watched
    Victoria start into a channel between the anchored ships.
    Like a hen and chicks, he thought, or like duck and
    ducklings, with Jager the ugly one coming along last.

    There was thunder from the battleship—and distress on
    Jager's bridge, confused questions. Kurt leaned out the
    door. The huge warship had hoisted an Argentine flag and
    was busily blasting the sky with a secondary mount. "Gun salute," he said, ashamed of his moment of fear.

    "I'm glad they've got ammunition to waste," Hans
    growled. Kurt saw that he too had been frightened, and
    was irritated about it.

    There was a pause in the firing after the twenty-first
    boom. The Argentine flag came down.

    Kurt felt a surge of pride as the red, black, and yellow
    of the Littoral replaced the gold, blue, and white. The
    thunder resumed.

    "This one's for us." He stepped out on the wing. Glancing down, he saw the Sea Detail waving their caps at the
    battleship. They were idiots, he thought. The jaws of a
    trap were closing, and they cheered. Green sea slipped
    past lager's flanks. Every meter forward made turning
    back that much more impossible.

    "Hey, Kurt, come over on this side and look." Hans tugged at his sleeve. He followed the smaller man through
    the bridge.

    "Look," said Hans, pointing to the anchored ships.
    "Portugal." Several ships flew a red-and-green ensign.
    "And Spain." Three vessels bore the red-and-gold with the black eagle. He pointed to other ships. "Nigeria, I think, and France . . . "He indicated flag after flag, babbling.

    Kurt marveled too, for here were men of nations as
    fabulous as those of the Arabian Nights. Jager eased into
    the channel between ships, her men exchanging shouted
    greetings with sailors of other lands. Hans grew more
    excited. "Look! Look, Kurt. Britain! ..."

    "Quartermaster!"

    "Sir?"

    "We'll tie up at buoy thirty-four. Find it on your
    chart."

    "Yes sir." He went inside and did so, the while thinking 76

    that Gregor need not be so glum. He returned to the
    wing, told Hans, "We've a good position. Close in."

    "You going over?"

    Nothing could keep him from exploring this hub of
    history. "On the first boat."

77
Vffl

    "IT'S not really fair," Kurt told Hans while descending the accommodation ladder to the liberty boat.

    " 'Rank hath its privileges,'" Hans quoted. "One's liberty every day. Why feel guilty?"

    "I don't. But it's not fair, not when the others only get to go every other day. ..."

    "It could be arranged. ..."

    "Never mind. Hello, Deckinger."

    "I'll trade you, Ranke," said the coxswain.

    "Forget it. I'm not that fair." He and Hans took seats and waited for the boat to fill. The sailors who followed
    them were all neatly trimmed and polished, their uniforms
    clean