Firestorm d-6

by Taylor Anderson

  “But…” Alden began, but Keje held up his hand.

  “You still think in terms of your old war,” he said, “when all things happened so very quickly. You’ll have sufficient time to form or revise a plan. Consider: Saa-lon is more than a thousand of your ‘miles’ from here. The fleet can move only as quickly as its slowest ship, and many of our transports rely entirely on sails, so we cannot count on more than an eight- or ten-knot average. The voyage will take five, perhaps six days. We should have communications with Donaghey at least until she is driven ashore-if she is-so we’ll have a good estimate of her position.” He paused again. “If the worst happens, it will likely occur late tonight or early tomorrow. That should leave you sufficient time to form a plan of battle while we are underway. You have done more with far less information before. So has Mr. Letts.”

  Pete nodded resignedly but shifted uncomfortably on his stool. “Okay, Admiral, you’re the boss. But I guess you’ve figured that if the ‘worst’ does happen, those guys’ll be on the beach, all alone, for those same five or six days, no matter what we do. You really think they can hold that long against the whole damn Grik army?”

  Keje sighed. “I suppose not. They may not even survive the grounding. At this stage, all we can do is speculate and hope Donaghey makes enough sail to pull herself and Tolson clear. We should learn that soon. If Mr. Gaarrett and Mr. Chaa-pelle save their ships, we will happily stand down and resume awaiting Arracca’ s arrival, and you may continue to plan a landing anywhere you desire.” He frowned. “If that doesn’t happen, we must pray our people can hold out long enough for us to arrive. Gaarrett, Chaa-pelle, and Mr. Baarry are some of our most resourceful officers, commanding veteran crews. If anyone can do it, they can. Perhaps we will arrive to find a ‘beachhead’ already established for us!” He looked at everyone present in turn. “We will issue an alert order and prepare to move the fleet. Consider it a drill. If we must rescue our people, however, we will do so with no half measures. If it is required that we deploy our new weapons, ‘tip our hand’ so to speak, it will not be in sprinkles here and there, like a late-day squall that briefly comes and goes, but as a Strakka storm that will not pass until the enemy is scoured away!” He glanced at Pete and knew the Marine’s mind was already racing; examining, evaluating, and discarding tactical scenarios. “We will make all preparations for getting underway, but as soon as we get final word from Donaghey, we will have a meeting here, of all ship and field commanders.” He paused. “That is all.”

  After the others departed to oversee the implementation of their orders, Keje and Pete strode upon what was left of Salissa‘ s (or Big Sal’ s, as the Americans still called her) battlement. Once a broad structure at the base of her center wing tower, it was much abbreviated now, placed off-center to make room for her “flight deck”; the old “battlement” was increasingly referred to as the “bridgewings.” Keje and Pete paused at the rail and gazed upon the broad deck below, cluttered with “Nancy” float-planes, their blue paint a dark gray-black in the gathering twilight. Indistinct shapes moved among them, checking lashings, making sure the craft were secure. Inevitably, the two leaders looked higher, to stare out across the broad anchorage they still called “Port Blair"1e

  It was a heady sight. Never in all Lemurian history had the people amassed such combat power. The various ships had dissolved into mere outlines now, but they were well lit while their crews made all the various preparations. Humfra-Dar rode at anchor nearby, virtually identical to Big Sal, and similarly covered with aircraft. An even dozen powerful new steam frigates ringed the massive seagoing, sailing “Homes,” turned steam-powered aircraft carriers. USS Dowden, USS Scott, USS Nakja-Mur, and USS Kas-Ra-Ar had been joined by USS Haakar-Faask, USS Naga, USS Bowles, USS Felts, USS Saak-Fas, USS Clark, USS Davis, and USS Ramic-Sa-Ar. All were considered “DDs” and, according to tradition in the “American Navy,” were named for fallen heroes. Two dozen of the fast, razeed, Grik “Indiamen” they’d rebuilt as corvettes (now almost universally considered “DEs,” or “Destroyer Escorts”) also filled the harbor, along with forty unaltered Grik “prize” transports. Almost a hundred of the largest, swiftest feluccas in the Alliance constantly came and went, loaded with supplies as well. In all, First Fleet averaged seventy-odd ships present at any given time, and when Arracca arrived, she’d add herself, four more steam frigates, and six corvettes. Grik fleets were often bigger, but without the Japanese battle cruiser Amagi, they’d never possessed a fraction of the combat power anchored in Port Blair.

  The shore facilities were nothing to sneeze at either. Big wooden cranes and booms had been rigged along the new docks situated in the calmest, most protected portion of the bay. Huge warehouses and other port facilities had been established, packed with sufficient supply reserves to last the fleet for many months, with more arriving all the time. Huge tank batteries were kept topped-off by regular visits of “Indiaman” oilers and tankers from Baalkpan and Talaud, and a floating dry dock was even under construction by skilled craftsmen who’d once built the monumental seagoing Homes. Nothing as big as Big Sal would ever fit in it, but it would handle just about anything else in the Alliance. Perry Brister had hit on the scheme when it occurred to him that all the master shipwrights who used to build Homes were now resentfully toiling at jobs anyone could do in the production-line-oriented Allied shipyards. With the sophisticated Lemurian pumps, building floating dry docks would be a good way to get the most out of the highly professional artisans. Besides, with the Allied fleets scattering across the known world, it would be easier to tow dry docks to them than tow damaged ships back to Baalkpan-and soon Maa-ni-la-where the only two real dry docks existed.

  Beyond the warehouses, an honest-to-goodness airfield, complete with revetments, was being built, using crushed limestone and coral. Nothing would use it for some time, if ever, but it was always better to be prepared. Finally, the various facilities of Port Blair were surrounded on all sides by heavy batteries and defensive fortifications. The allies had come to Andaman to stay.

  “It’s a hell of a sight,” Pete muttered after the silence between him and Keje had stretched too long.

  “Yes,” Keje agreed, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry we disagreed before.”

  Pete shrugged. “We didn’t really disagree. I was just doing my job, pointing out problems. We’ve had a lot of them, you know, and problems on the battlefield cost lives. I never want to land on another Grik beach when all the stuff I need to accomplish my mission is still aboard ship, or already unloaded miles away. That’s the sort of thing Letts can help with, but this offensive stuff is as newall the mahim as it was to us at first. It’ll take him time to get things sorted out. I’d have liked to let him practice up a little. You know, do a few training exercises.” Pete shrugged. “Maybe he still can.”

  Keje looked at the Marine. “Well, in case he can’t, shouldn’t you call a staff meeting of your own? Begin preparations to embark troops?”

  Pete shook his head. “I passed the word as soon as I heard the rumors, before I ever came to see you. That’s one thing we have sorted out; everybody knows what ship to board, with what equipment. It’s our job to make sure those ships off-load where we need them. As you said, I guess there’ll be plenty of time to decide that once we know where we’re going-if we’re going.” He paused. “No, I figured I’d hang around here until we get the word. Then, if I have to, I can hit the ground running. I’ll have my staff meeting when-if-we call everyone aboard here. I already have a few ideas, but we’d better call Letts out now. Get him figuring the angles too, and wrapping his brain around what we might have to do. Let him get a running start.”

  “Agreed,” Keje said. “We will fetch Mr. Letts, and we can all wait together. Hopefully, once we know the score, we can sleep tomorrow away. If not… perhaps it’s more appropriate in a way. Once more we shall move to war in reaction to necessity, and those who die will do so to protect others. I confess, this cold-blooded planning for battles
that we begin leaves me feeling… most odd.” He snorted. “I think I have been away from the fight too long!”

  “Maybe so,” Pete agreed. “Your tune’s a little different than it was right after Baalkpan.” Keje looked at him sharply, but Alden continued without pause. “Remembering the way things used to be, I guess I can even understand your desire to ‘react.’ Most of your folks never used to fight anybody unless they were attacked-but you know this has gone way past that, and you ve got to forget it. You’ve seen some action and’ve got plenty of guts-everybody knows! Your rush to rescue Garrett’s task force proves it again. But one thing you have to get through your head is, bad as it was before, this war’s going to get a whole lot worse. I saw it at Rangoon. Grik’ll eat each other if they have to, to stay in the fight, and now we’re taking the fight to their ground, it’s liable to get meaner than we can imagine. Top all that off with the fact that, even if we had a bel- lyful and decided to quit chasing them, they’d just turn around and come after us again!” Pete shook his head. “You knew from the start, way before you took your admiral job, this is a fight to the finish and it’s ‘us or them.’ I pick us.”

  He looked at Keje for a moment, then stared out at the bay. “You know what the scariest part of all is? The Grik are finally starting to wise up. This stunt they pulled against Garrett’s task force is another example, and it stinks. I don’t know if they were just trying to bust the blockade… or get us to come a-running.”

  “You think we play into their hands if we… react… as I’ve ordered?” Keje asked.

  “No,” Pete answered simply. “I don’t think they have a clue what we’re about to land on them with. I do think we have to start keeping our eyes peeled, though. They sucker-punched Garrett, and if we don’t watch out, they might do it to us. Initiative’s our best asset, and we lose a lot when we react. I’d much rather they react to what we do, than the other way around. Whoever has the initiative has the edge. Besides, there’s nothing ‘cold-blooded’ about this war. The very idea of killin’ Grik always heats my blood I ont›

  Keje looked at him. “General Lord Rolak told me you were beginning to ‘enjoy’ this war, but I did not credit it.”

  “He’s one to talk,” Pete retorted. “His people used to fight wars for sport!” He scratched his bearded chin. “Although I’ve heard him admit this isn’t a ‘fun’ war a time or two.” He sighed. “No, Admiral, I don’t like this any more than you do, and I really don’t like losing people… Given a choice, I think I’d enjoy explorin’ this world you got here instead of fightin’ my way across it. That said, I do get a kick outta killin’ Grik. The bastards need killin’. They’re ugly, mean, and vicious, and if we don’t kill them, they’ll kill us; it’s as simple as that.” Pete shrugged. “With that in mind, rubbin’ ’em out doesn’t bug me at all. Sue me.”

  Commodore Jim Ellis from USS Dowden collected Alan Letts and came out to the massive ship, joining them in Keje’s spacious “admiral’s quarters,” now substituting for Big Sal‘ s old “Great Hall.” As the evening progressed, more commanders gathered of their own accord. Generals Rolak and Maraan returned, and Captain Jis-Tikkar (Tikker)-commander (COFO) of Big Sal’ s 1st Air Wing-“drifted by.” Geran-Eras and Al Vernon arrived from Humfra-Dar, and that set off a flood of other naval officers. Soon, Cablaas-Rag-Laan from USS Scott, Jarrik-Fas from USS Nakja-Mur, and Mescus-Ricum from Kas-Ra-Ar joined them, as did the captains of all the other DDs in port; Haakar-Faask, Naga, Bowles, Felts, Saak-Fas, Clark, Davis, and Ramic-Sa-Ar. All the warships in First Fleet except Tassa’ -and those in Task Force Garrett, of course-were now represented. Finally, realizing the “big meeting” was forming up regardless of how the Donaghey and Tolson situation turned out, Pete Alden went ahead and sent for the commanders of the various land forces as well. It was good to have everyone together; it was rare that such meetings took place. For the time, however, there was little for anyone to talk about, and there was an awkward air in the vast compartment.

  Scrawny, redheaded “Colonel” Billy Flynn approached Pete through the crowd. His mustache and chin whiskers were going white, and he was twisting the ends of the mustache unconsciously, in the Imperial style. At least he hasn’t started braiding it, Pete thought. This was only the second time he’d seen the fortyish former submariner since the man arrived with his “Amalgamated” regiment a few weeks before. Since then, the regiment, composed of volunteers from a wide variety of Homes and settlements not yet official members of the Grand Alliance, had been on training maneuvers in the hills.

  “Evening, General,” Flynn said, with only a trace of irony. He remembered when Pete was just a sergeant. Of course, Pete recalled when Flynn was just the chief of the boat on S-19.

  “Billy,” Pete greeted him. “How are your fellas shaping up?”

  “Swell, although more than half aren’t ‘fellas.’ ” Flynn lowered his voice. “Female troops sure take getting used to!”

  “Tell me,” Pete agreed. “That’s the way these ’Cats are. Most of them, anyway. You won’t catch me complaining about how they fight, though. How about you? How are you doing since you traded your flippers for a bayonet?”

  “You can have my flippers, and my dolphins too, in this kooky sea,” Flynn replied. “I’ll take a bayonet any day. I saw my share of shore fighting at Baalkpan as you’ll recall, and that wasn’t nearly a scary as swimming with fish that could eat my old boat.” He shook his head. “You know, I was in the Army once. In the Great War, back home. I was seventeen. The only part of France I ever saw was covered with trenches, shell holes, and rotten body parts. Next thing you know, they snatched me up, put me in the British Army, and made me fight Bolsheviks in the snow and ice! I didn’t really mind that so much, you know? Fightin’ those Red devils was kind of like fighting Grik-they’d just come at you in swarms. The Brit commanders weren’t much account; the only guys you could really rely on besides ours were these Canuk artillerymen…” Billy shrugged. “Anyway, after that was over with, they cut us loose, and if a kid wanted to stay in the service and get fed regular, he had to be willing to do scary, unusual stuff.” He grinned. “So I joined the Navy and went in subs.”

  “You probably could have had a ship, here,” Pete said.

  “Nah. I like what I’m doing. My ‘Amalgamated’ may not be Marines, but I’d stack them up against any Army regiment!”

  “I bet Queen Maraan would argue that!”

  Flynn chuckled. “Now, Pete, the Black and Silver Battalions of her ‘Six Hundred’ might as well be Marines! They train with ’em, after all.”

  “So? Everybody trains the same now. The Marines spend more time on landing ops and close quarters melee combat like they might run into on a ship, but that’s about it.” He paused. “And, of course, your ‘Amalgamated’ is ‘elite’ in the sense that they have the first rifles.” Pete shook his head. “I still don’t think that’s fair!”

  “I thought you were hot for ‘smoothbores,’ and ‘buck and ball.’ ”

  “I am… for these ‘line up and blast away’ tactics we have to use, but if everybody had rifles-especially the breechloaders Bernie Sandison’s been promising-we could kill the bastards before they get close. What’s the latest dope on that, anyway?”

  “My regiment carries muzzle-loading rifle-muskets,” Flynn confirmed, “but they’re only fifty caliber instead of the standard sixty-two. Ordnance has settled on a fifty-eighty cartridge that I understand will kick like a mule but still uses the same bullet and rifling twist as the guns in my regiment. That way, when the time comes to convert ’em, all they have to do is install that trapdoorlike breechblock Silva came up with, ream a chamber, and alter the hammer. Simple. Your smoothbores’ll have to be rebarreled, or have a rifled liner installed. In fact, it’s my understanding the plan is to send out hammers and ‘barreled actions’ for replacement in the field to save the time and effort of shipping the guns back and forth. You’ll get the new stuff and send back the old. They’ll convert ’em and eit
her build new guns around them, or send them out to another unit to do the same.”

  Pete was impressed. “Say, that makes sense!” He shook his head. “It still isn’t fair. I’ve got one whole corps of veteran troops still armed with bows and spears, and you show up with rifles!”

  “It helps to have friends in high places,” Flynn said, “and to become operational right when a batch of rifles is ready to be sent out!”

  “Well… just remember, your troops are riflemen! I know they’ve got bayonets, but I don’t want them close enough to the enemy to use them unless it’s absolutely necessary, got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “Commodore” Jim Ellis brought lan Letts, Lord General Rolak, and Safir Maraan to join Flynn and Alden. He was looking around the crowd. “You know, Keje’s going to have to feed this bunch, or run them off.”

  “Hello, Jim. Rolak.” Pete bowed to Queen Maraan. “Your Highness.” He shook Alan’s offered hand. “Mr. Letts.” He gestured around. “When I suggested we bring you out here, I envisioned a… less crowded environment where we could put our heads together. It looks like you might’ve parachuted right into a swamp full of alligators. I wish you could’ve had more time to get your bearings.”

  Letts nodded. His fair skin had suffered during the long flight from Baalkpan and his face looked like a radish. In a few days, he’d start to peel. “It’s liable to be a challenge,” he agreed, “but this is exactly the sort of thing I pitched at Adar to get him to let me come. I guess we still haven’t heard anything?”

  Pete shook his head but looked around the compartment for Keje. He located him near the big, ornately carved table, talking with Geran-Eras from Humfra-Dar, Tikker, Al, Lieutenant Leedom, and other wing leaders. He noticed a few stewards had begun to circulate with trays and large pitchers.