Authors: Taylor Anderson
Fristar
was moored in the middle of the cove again, her freed people working to repair the damage to her bow. But
Hidoiame
lay, her forward half high on shore, nearly upside down. A crumpled funnel and her highest 25-millimeter tub was all that remained visible of her sunken stern section. Some of I’joorka’s warriors were still on the bottom with it.
Also in the cove, however, five days after the battle, were half a dozen PB-1B Nancys and two of the great four-engine “Clipper” flying boats, all secured to a hastily rigged pier.
“It’s a good thing we spotted your signal when we did,” Letts said, turning to look at him, “and the pilot decided to check it out, thinking it was too tight a smoke column for a lightning fire.” He chuckled. “Imagine his surprise when he saw a big arrow laid out in a clearing beside the word ‘Japs’! That was good thinking. That one word—and the signal itself—told us an awful lot.”
“I didn’t do it,” Silva said, opening the trapdoor breech of his weapon to tease more sand out with a rag.
Damn Moe
buried
the thing to hide it, then nearly couldn’t find it in the daylight!
Maybe he’s hurtin’ a little, an’ that’s some excuse,
he conceded,
but I’d hate to’ve lost the Doom Stomper!
Just as well I didn’t have it with me, though,
he reflected
. It’s really not good for much other than killin’ super lizards or blowin’ up Blood Cardinals at a distance. Not the best choice for close combat at all
. He flapped sand off the rag and went back to work. There was a red-stained bandage wrapped around his head where he’d conked it when
Hidoiame
flipped, and he still felt a little woozy.
“I don’t care who did it; it brought us here,” Alan continued. “And when we got our first report of what happened, we came as quick as we could with medical supplies and corps ’Cats.” He paused. “You did well, Silva. The Skipper’s happy. I sent word by wireless before I came.”
“Mr. Cook was in command,” Dennis insisted, looking at Alan intently. “He really was! He’s a good kid, an’ ready for more.” He looked down. “But I missed my boat.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Alan assured. “Seems I’m kind of in charge while everybody’s gone.” He looked back at the cove. “You made friendly contact with potential allies, and not just the jungle Grik we were hoping for, but more humans!” he said at last. “Mr. Bradford’s liable to hang himself for missing meeting them.” He paused. “And how ever it happened,
Hidoiame
’s goose is cooked for good. You also helped shape what’ll turn out to be a couple of damn good officers. I think that’s earned you a seat on one of the supply flights west. You can catch
Walker
at Andaman Island.”
“Thanks, Mr. Letts. Larry gets a seat too?”
Alan laughed. “I wouldn’t think of splitting you two up!” He arched an ironic brow. “At least not now. I thought we’d need him to liaise with these Khonashi folks, but for some reason a lot of them speak at least a little English. Imagine that.”
“Sure surprised me,” Dennis admitted truthfully. So far, Tony Scott was keeping scarce. Dennis suspected
Walker
’s old coxswain would come forward eventually, but he had a lot of thinking to do—not just about himself—and Silva wouldn’t blow. Nobody else would either. They’d discussed it as soon as they saw the first Nancy fly over. Tony Scott had earned the right to decide what was best for himself and his people.
Alan sighed. He knew something was up, but he also knew it was pointless to push Silva past what he’d already said. At least for now. “I’m going to leave Mr. Cook and Mr. Brassey here for now as our representatives to these folks. I’ll probably send Moe back too, once he’s better.” Moe had been shot through the left bicep by a 6.5, and the little bullet blew out a pretty good chunk of meat. “He and his Marines are the only ’Cats they like around here right now.” The lost Marines had returned during the fighting with ’Cats from the wellheads, and that had been a relief. “He’ll have help,” Alan went on, “a real diplomatic contingent eventually, and Adar already sent word that any hunters who summarily shoot anybody that looks like a loose Grik on Borno without being attacked will go on trial for murder.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Dennis judged, “but apparently there’s some bad lizards runnin’ around out there.” He waved at the jungle to the south. “General orders can be just a tad general sometimes, if you get my meanin’. Have to sort that out.” He stared down at
Hidoiame
’s corpse. “If you was askin’ me, though, I wouldn’t leave Mr. Cook here long. Think about sendin’ him east. He’s pinin’ for Princess Becky—I mean the Governor-Empress—and I bet he’d be good for her too.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Dennis nodded. “Let me take Gunny Horn with me too.”
“He’s hurt. Damn, Dennis, he practically had a ship fall on him!”
“He ain’t hurt that bad. He’ll want to go.”
Alan shrugged. “Sure you don’t want to take that weird little Grik brass picker with you too?”
“Nah. You can keep him.”
“Okay. Well, I’m going back down there”—Alan waved—“and try to talk to I’joorka. See if I can get him to spare some of the Jap prisoners. Not all of them were bad men.”
“What about the officers?”
“They’ll hang for what they did at Okada’s colony—not to mention what they did to their prisoners here and before.”
Dennis frowned. “Good. That’s what I told ’em, an’ I wouldn’t want to be made a liar. So long, Mr. Letts.”
“So long, Chief Silva.”
Dennis sat there for some time, just staring down at the cove, after Alan and his small escort left. A big copper-colored beetle landed noisily in front of him and marched purposefully toward his bare foot. He’d removed his half-rotten boondockers to let his pale, peeling feet breathe. “Purty bugs is always the most dangerous,” he muttered to himself, paraphrasing or warping something Courtney Bradford told him once. “I guess the same goes for broads. Course, I think he was tellin’ me not to
eat
the purty ones—like
he
ever ate a bug! Most bad, stingin’ bugs I ever saw was ugly as hell.” He picked up a stick and flicked the beetle away. “No sense takin’ chances. Bugger had some ugly choppers!”
Suddenly, Pam Cross plopped down beside him on the sandy rise. He’d heard her approach.
“Who were you talking to?” she asked.
“Just a bug.”
“What did he have to say for himself?”
“Not much.”
Pam waited a few minutes, but when Silva said nothing more, she sighed. “So,” she said expectantly.
“So what?”
“We gonna keep bein’ mad at each other? I thought we got things sorted out that night in the tree, but we hardly even talked after that.”
“I ain’t mad.”
Pam’s face turned stormy. “Well
I
am, damn it!”
Dennis nodded. “I knew that. That’s why I kept my distance.”
“But . . .” Pam picked up her own stick and slapped the sand in frustration. “But I wasn’t mad then! I got mad
again
because you froze me out!”
“What the hell was I s’posed to do?” Silva countered, exasperated. “This trip wasn’t exactly a stroll down a nature trail, where we could cuddle up in our hammock bower ever’ night after a ro-mantic hike!” He scratched his beard. “Cooties, I’ll bet,” he murmured, then continued. “Look, I’ll admit I kinda hoped we’d patched things up, but I ain’t much of a cuddler when I’m in a fight—an’ we been in one ever since that super lizard nearly got us! That was my fault,” he conceded, “but it sorted me out an’ put me back in ‘fight gear,’ where I should’a been all along. You’re always shiftin’ me into neutral, doll, and we never would’a made it this far with me just revvin’ my motor.” He took a long breath. “I ain’t never told you that I was anything but what I am. Not only is there nothin’ I can do about it—there ain’t nothin’ I
want
to do about it! Even if I did, I can’t—won’t—right now. Don’t you get it?” He avoided looking at her because he knew her big eyes would melt him if he did. Instead, he churned on, making his point while he could. “Maybe, just maybe, I’m tolerably sweet on ya. But the only way we’ll ever get to keep anything goin’ between us is if you know,
know
, deep down, that I been me so long you can’t do anything about it. What’s more, you really shouldn’t even try. At least for a while. That’s just the way it is, sweetie, and the harder you try to make me somethin’ else, the more miserable you’ll be.”
Slowly, tentatively, Pam’s small arm snaked around Silva’s waist and she leaned against his shoulder. “I’ve been miserable ever since I met you,” she said softly. “But I guess it’s worse when I haven’t got you, because I’ve never been happier either. Sometimes.”
“You’re gonna get my cooties,” Silva warned. Pam held out a clump of her greasy, tangled hair and started laughing.
“Whut?”
“My lice can fight your lice. Winner take all.”
25
//////
Guayakwil Bay
New Granada Province (Ecuador)
May 10, 1944
S
econd Fleet had been running wild along the west coast of the Holy Dominion, from what would have been San Salvador in the north, and south beyond where Lima, Peru, should have been. Ships were cut out of harbors at night or left burning in the daylight. Soon, virtually nothing moved by sea between Dominion ports within range of
Maaka-Kakja
or DD-escorted tenders carrying Nancy seaplanes to bomb and scout the enemy. Planes and pilots had been lost to malfunctions, weather, and simple inexperience, but Grikbirds had taken an increasing toll as well—particularly in certain areas—and that struck High Admiral Harvey Jenks and Admiral Lelaa-Tal-Cleraan as significant. Clearly there were places the Doms didn’t want them to see, but that had been the case since the Empire of the New Britain Isles first knew them. Always a secretive society, described mostly by the illiterate slaves they sold or the company captains allowed only in certain ports, the nature of the Dominion remained amazingly vague. Its priests were twisted monsters, and its troops were competent and savage, but little was known of the country itself beyond those few ports. Regardless how costly, reconnaissance was essential.
One place no one had ever been allowed was the Sea of Bones, north, where the Gulf of California ought to be. No Imperial ship had ever returned from there, and Harvey and Gerald McDonald themselves, as young midshipmen, once attempted to reach it from Imperial holdings in the north by crossing the most horrible desert known. They failed, and were forced back by desiccating heat and terrible predators that took most of their expedition. That place was of little concern at present, however. The Dom capital was presumed to lie within the Valley of Mexico, based on the Dom pope’s title and the apparent holiness his priests ascribed to the place, but Harvey wasn’t interested in the enemy capital just yet either. He had nowhere near the forces for anything so ambitious. The presumably sparsely populated breadbasket of the Dominion in South America was his goal. Not even to take
it
yet, but to prick it, bleed it, force the enemy to protect it—and, incidentally, spread his forces across a continent.
Two other places had always been strictly protected by the Doms. The coast near Acapulco was one—which made sense, considering it gave access to the Valley of Mexico—and the other was the region surrounding what the American charts described as Costa Rica. No one knew why the Doms considered that such an important place, but the fact that it was suddenly so fiercely guarded by so many Grikbirds that none of Orrin Reddy’s planes could approach it was sufficient reason to send a squadron of steam frigates to investigate. Ships were even now on their way—just as other elements of Second Fleet made their first landings on enemy soil.
There were three landings in all. One force of a thousand Imperial Marines went ashore at a sleepy fishing village called Quito. Another force of five hundred men and ’Cats landed at Chiklaya, in the south, but the largest incursion was at a respectable port city named Guayak, in a large bay called Guayakwil on Imperial charts. All three were just east of the Enchanted Isles and close enough together that they might support one another. Also, it seemed logical to occupy, long term or short, the most likely places a Dom attempt to retake the Isles might assemble. It was equally logical to take their first step on Dominion soil close enough to their base of operations that they could most easily support or relieve it, or, if necessary, evacuate. It was a tentative peek, to be sure, but it was also the first offensive act of the war in the East.
The first invasions of Dom America occurred without warning. There was no naval bombardment and there hadn’t even been recon flights for several days before the landings, so they came as a complete surprise. Barges crunched ashore unopposed in various places along the coast, and columns quickly slogged through the darkness to converge on their objectives. With the dawn, Colonel Blair met Captain Blas-Ma-Ar along the Guayak harbor waterfront, where the battalions under their direct control completed lightning sweeps through the city. Few inhabitants had shown themselves at that early hour, other than to peer from doors or wood-shuttered windows before slamming them closed again. Occasional shots echoed as Marines encountered Dom soldiers. Maybe they were part of the sleepy garrison of the formidable fortress overlooking the town, but the fortress itself fired no shots at the DDs that crept ever closer or the barges that carried more and more troops ashore, virtually under its guns.
“I don’t get it,” Captain Blas told Blair, blinking and swishing her tail in agitation. “Where are all the daamn Doms?”
“I’ve no idea,” Blair replied worriedly, staring at the fortress. He was relieved, of course, but nervous that they hadn’t faced any real opposition. It didn’t make sense. The sky was growing brighter, but the town still lay in shadows cast by the rugged mountains to the east. “The fabled Andes, I believe,” he remarked, turning to look at the high, craggy range. “I never dared hope to stand beneath them!”
Blas blinked mild annoyance. “You think they seen us comin’ and took to the hills?”
Blair shook his head, stirred from his reverie. “Why?” He gestured back at the fortress. “That wouldn’t have stopped us, but it could’ve made things a bit tedious. I can only assume we did indeed achieve complete surprise.”
“If it’s aall right with you, sur, I’ll keep assumin’ they
let
us aashore, and still mean to take
us
completely by surprise!” Blas said darkly.
“Quite right you should, Captain,” Blair agreed. He motioned for an orderly and consulted a map the man held before him. He pointed at it. “Take your battalion north along the waterfront to this shipbuilding district. That’s where your Eighth Maa-ni-la is landing. Make sure there are no surprises waiting for
them
!”
“Ay, ay, Col-nol Blair!” She turned. “First Sergeant Spook!” she called to a pale-furred ’Cat named Spon-Ar-Aak, who still considered himself primarily a gunner’s mate on
Walker
. Chack-Sab-At had set the precedent for such dual identities, and it stuck. Spook belonged to A Company, but he’d fought the Doms before, and Blas used him almost like an exec. The young replacement lieutenants in her 2nd Battalion, 2nd Marines didn’t mind. They knew they had much to learn, and the 2nd of the 2nd remained one of the most prestigious outfits in the Alliance, even if its sister battalion had practically ceased to exist in the West.
“Ay, Caap’n?” Spook replied, hurrying up.
“Start ’em moving toward the shipyard. We’ll push out as big a perimeter as we can and wait for the Eighth to fill it in behind us!”
“Ay, ay!” He turned to the Marines. “Aall right! “You heard the caap’n! Column o’ fours, at the quick time—haarch!”
Blas saluted Blair and followed her Marines.
“Remarkable creatures,” volunteered Major Dao Iverson, 2nd Battalion, 6th Imperial Marines. The man was Blair’s exec. His tone wasn’t exactly condescending, but didn’t match the esteem Blair held for Lemurian troops.
Blair glared at him. “Quite remarkable
people
, Major Iverson, and staunch allies when we desperately need them.”
“Of course. Forgive me, Colonel Blair. No slight intended, and I know our allies’ worth. It remains odd to me to see
females
in their ranks, however.”
Blair had to agree with that, and sighed. “They’ll be in
our
ranks soon enough, I shouldn’t wonder, if we don’t quickly finish this war. They’re already on our support ships—and the warships of our allies.” He smiled at Iverson. “We must convince ourselves that we fight to make a better world, for we can’t—mustn’t—remake the old. The treachery and evil that lurked unseen, even at home, is sufficient reason why we should not even want to do such a thing.”
“Of course,” Iverson repeated noncommittally. “What are your orders for my battalion?”
“No change. Push toward the fortress and ensure it truly is undefended. If it awakes, hold back and let the Navy’s guns do their work before you launch your assault. We’ll lose no more men than we must. You understand?”
“Perfectly.”
“Then good luck to you.”
Blair remained there for some time, watching more troops come ashore and listening to reports relayed by runners from all over the city. Aircraft finally appeared over the bay, scouting inland and northward, but they attacked nothing and there was still no significant resistance from any quarter. He could hardly believe they’d accomplished such overwhelming surprise, and given its proximity to the Enchanted Isles, Guayak should’ve been packed with troops. It really made no sense.
The streets remained largely empty as the sun’s rays finally washed across them, but some of the natives were venturing out at last, gawking at the newcomers. Squads swept in to search homes and shops, ensuring the enemy hadn’t simply hidden, waiting to spring forth at a predetermined time, but so far there was no evidence of that. More Dom troops were found, but they’d been hiding in fear, not anticipation, and nearly all were old men and boys, not prime Dom infantry. Most surrendered easily enough.
Blair turned to watch the progress of Iverson’s battalion scaling the slope beneath the fortress west of town. There’d still been no shots fired there. He was frowning when he heard his name called, and he saluted General Tamatsu Shinya as the former Japanese naval officer approached with his staff.
“Good morning, General,” Blair said.
“It is good,” Shinya replied wryly. “Perhaps too good for comfort?”
“Indeed.”
“What news?”
Blair nodded at another runner, just trotting off. “The comm ’Cats, as you call them, are stringing telegraph lines as we speak, and installing their wireless gear and other equipment in that impressive building there.” He pointed at an elegant but scantly adorned hall. “We won’t have to rely on runners much longer. Perhaps a hundred Dom troops have been captured, and we’re trying to determine whether we can communicate with them. As you know, most Imperial officers have a smattering of Spanish, but the dialect here seems inconvenient.”
“What of the civilians? Have you spoken to any of them?”
“I haven’t, General, not yet. I just learned that some civil officials are forming a delegation to speak to us, however. I instructed that they be escorted to that building as well. I’m told there’s a chamber within that should be suitable for a conference.”
Shinya was looking at the HQ Blair had chosen. “I wonder what manner of building it is? There is some interesting architecture here.”
Blair nodded. “Yes. Quite interesting. A great deal of stone is used, but the structures seem most ambitious. Arches and columns abound. At least here in the center of town. When we passed through the outlying areas, there were grass-and-mud huts. Quite a contrast. As for our HQ, it could be a government office, bank, even a church, for all I know. I haven’t been inside.” He paused, seeing Shinya’s expression. “If it
is
a church, there was no evidence of any . . . unnatural acts having been performed inside,” he assured him. “I specifically asked.”
“Well, then,” Shinya said, “shall we meet this delegation? Perhaps they can explain the situation here.”
More than a dozen local men were brought to what they learned was a library of some kind. There were no books, but tens of thousands of parchmentlike scrolls were inserted into thousands of square partitioned slots built into every wall. The wooden dividers were richly stained and sealed and the scrolls appeared well tended and mostly new. Long tables were arrayed about the chamber where older scrolls were apparently being copied, and it was in this way, Shinya assumed, that they prevented the loss or degradation of the knowledge stored in this place. The men who joined them were dressed strangely in heavy, brightly colored robes that touched the floor around their sandals. A few wore odd headgear, but none wore anything as large and gaudy as the “pope hats” of the Blood Cardinals. In fact, there didn’t appear to be any representatives of the twisted faith in attendance at all. That was fine, because one of the first acts performed in the building was to tear down a large, gold-painted perversion of the Christian cross and throw it in the street. The Dom cross reflected the warped nature of their faith, as far as the Imperials were concerned. It was a gnarled, twisted, knotty thing festooned with spikes and sharp, thorny carvings. The locals who entered the chamber would’ve had to step right over it, but showed no outrage or discomfort. To the utter amazement of all present, they actually wore broad smiles on their dark faces!
“I’m not sure what the devil we’ve gotten into here, General,” Blair murmured into Shinya’s ear.
Shinya’s face reflected nothing, but he answered with a sharp, curt nod. “Who speaks for you?” he asked the delegation.
“I am Suares. I shall speak for my Lord Don Ricardo del Guayak, whose city you have liberated from the vile oppression of the Dominion,” said a tall man, less well dressed than the others. “I was once a trader to your, ah,
la compañia
, though I prefer to think of myself as a savior of children, and am the only one in Guayak who has your tongue.” He gestured at the others. “Nor do these great men speak the Spanish well. Our city has long clung tightly to older ways,” he explained, then proceeded to name those present. Shinya nodded at them all, and bowed slightly when Don Ricardo was named.
“Very well,” Shinya said after introducing himself and the officers present. “You may interpret for us. How long you do so depends on your absolute honesty. We have your city in our power and will leave it in ruins if we suspect you are lying to us about anything.”
“Have no concern, General Shinya!” Suares exclaimed. “You are our liberators, friends! We will do anything we can to help!”
No one knew what they’d expected when they first set foot on Dominion soil, but no one ever dreamed of a friendly greeting.
“We shall see. Tell me, why are there so few Dominion troops here? Why is the fortress abandoned?”