He waved his hands. “’Nuff o’ that. As you know, there’s still plenty o’ bad Japs, but your pilots-an’ they are yours, like it or not-know you zapped a couple of ’em that were flyin’ shit as far beyond a ‘Nancy’ as Amagi was beyond my ol’ Walker. That’s big joss to them. Hell, it’s a big deal to me after seein’ you Army guys get whupped on by them Zee-ros over Cavite. The point is, the little guys look up to you, an’ they’re fixin’ to fly off an’ risk their stripey asses on your word, with the stuff you told ’em rattlin’ around in their furry little heads. So, if you’re with ’em or not, you’re their leader, an’ just like them, you gotta follow orders.” He grinned. “That’s one of the problems with bein’ a officer. Extra pressure to do the ‘right thing’!”
Silva studied the contemplative, introspective expression on Orrin’s face, then burped. “Besides, it’s my experience that the best laid plans o’’Cats an’ men still foul their screws all to hell, ’specially on this goofy world. I bet you’ll be flyin’ before this is done.”
Sperrin Mountains New Ireland
Major Chack-Sab-At worked his way down the shallow black rock trench on a secondary ridge overlooking the sprawling city of New Dublin. From what he saw, the city was about as big as Scapa Flow and the architecture was similarly alien to him: squat, blocky buildings with tile roofs and little color. Nearly everything was white and nothing stood on piers, as he was accustomed to seeing in Baalkpan. There were really big buildings along the harbor front, warehouses probably, and the Company headquarters in the center of the city looked like the Government House mansion of Gerald McDonald with its multiple stories and classical columns. Beyond, lay the harbor with its forest of masts and formidable defenses. Out at sea, Salaama-Na still held station, dwarfing countless Imperial warships and transports, fuzzy with the haze of the day and the occasional drifting cloud of gun smoke.
Chack’s was a lousy position with a very exposed avenue of support and retreat, leading upslope to the grassy, craggy peaks behind. He’d chosen it because it was such a crummy spot, hoping to lure the Doms into coming up after him. An impressive force, perhaps three or four thousand men, had assembled on the flanks of the mountains below, but didn’t seem inclined to do anything other than lob the occasional roundshot or volley of musketry. Suspecting that meant they were aware how close the force out of Bray was getting to Waterford, he realized he’d soon have to retire or risk being cut off and surrounded. No question about it, he wasn’t facing Grik. This enemy was perfectly able to make detailed plans of their own-particularly when, as it seemed, they had advance knowledge of the one Chack and Blair had devised.
So, Plan A was in the crapper, obviously, but that didn’t bother Chack too much. Something always went wrong, and he was preparing-he hoped-to do what the enemy least expected under the circumstances. As usual, his Plan B was risky; actually more so than usual, but that just made it even more unexpected… didn’t it? The only real problem, besides the added danger, was that he had no direct communications with anybody other than a lengthy semaphore chain back to Waterford, over the Wiklow Mountains to Cork, and from there to the fleet offshore. Hopefully, Plan B had been transmitted to Sor-Lomaak by now, because he needed it to kick-start certain elements of Plan A all over again if he was going to have any support. If it hadn’t, his only other option was to make such a ruckus that Sor-Lomaak would recognize the signal-and the opportunity-when it came.
A heavy roundshot struck the slope below the trench, showering the inhabitants with sharp, gravelly pumice and fine black dust. He spat dark mucus that had accumulated after hours of similar treatment. “Stay cool, Marines!” he cried. “They might hit us with shot rolling back down from above, but we’ll just throw it back at them!” Tired cheers answered. It’s easy to stay cool, he thought. It’s actually cold up here near the top of the range. And the troops have a right to be weary, he reflected. They’d faced tough, unexpected opposition taking the heights. There shouldn’t have been any Doms in the mountains at all, but that was what they’d encountered. No militia, no rebel troops, but Dom regulars! Professionals, he admitted grudgingly. That was when he first suspected a trap. It was reasonable to assume they’d gotten word of the Battle at Waterford back over the mountains, and some response was understandable, but they shouldn’t have had the sheer numbers they’d responded with, both here and elsewhere. There could be only one explanation: there’d been more Doms on New Ireland than they ever knew; they’d been there longer than anyone considered possible, and the Imperial invasion had been expected.
Further treachery was the answer, but by whom? He blinked dismissively. It didn’t matter at the moment. He’d been victim of treachery many times now, and humans held no monopoly on the practice. He looked forward to helping sort it out later-if he lived.
“Lieutenant Blas,” he said, nearing her position in the trench.
“Major.”
Chack looked at the sky. The sun was still visible over the mountains that trailed into the northwest. “Where is that Sky Priest, the lieutenant from Mertz?”
“Dead, Major, back at the town.”
Chack sighed. “Are there any of Sister Audry’s converts in the ranks?”
Blas blinked confusion. “Not that I know of. Strange buggers, them. Always either at you about your soul… or they don’t make a peep.” She considered. “Seen some Marines doing that funny thing with their hands…”
“No matter. Where is Major Jindal?”
Blas motioned a little farther down the trenchline to their left. “That way, sir. Came by here just a few minutes ago.”
“Thanks,” Chack said, and moved on. Blas shrugged and followed him. She still considered it her job to watch over him-just as he’d once taken such good care of her.
“Major Jindal,” Chack said, finally catching the Imperial, “any questions?”
Jindal paused uncertainly. “None, sir,” he finally cly answered.
“Good. I… know it will be dangerous and the risk is high, but I see no alternative.”
“Nor do I, except failure,” Jindal agreed.
“We will not fail,” Chack said, blinking certainty, “but given our situation, it’s customary among many of my people, Lemurians-MiAnaaka-to perform a… prayer ritual, and to some, Aryaalans and B’mbaadans most notably, it’s important that the sun be visible at that time.” He looked at Jindal. “Your people use prayer as well, do they not?”
“We do, but our chaplain is upslope with Major Blair.”
“Our priest is dead,” Chack said, “so I will lead our prayer. It’s a communal thing-I have never led before, but it’s brief and I know it well. I just wanted to make sure you had no objection before I begin.”
“Ah… no, I suppose not, as long as it’s not terribly… unusual or… frightening.”
Chack laughed. “It will not scare your men, I assure you, Major. I doubt those still with us are capable of fear.”
Jindal chuckled. “I hate to disillusion you, Major, but I remain terrified!”
Chack grinned back and patted the man on the shoulder. He was near the center of the line and decided this was as good a place as any. He stood atop the gravelly heap thrown up in front of the trench within full view of all the troops lining the lower ridge, not to mention the enemy below. He faced the sun and spread his arms wide.
“Maker of all things!” he roared in that special tone peculiar to his people that let their voices carry a great distance. A few musket balls began kicking up small dark clouds around him, but they were well beyond the effective range of small arms. Even if one struck him, it would hurt a lot, but probably wouldn’t do him serious harm. Roundshot was another matter, but it would take the enemy time to aim their pieces, and still the chance of a deliberate hit was remote.
Jindal was surprised to see a large number-most-of the Lemurians stand to join him, facing the west.
“I beg your protection,” Chack continued, “for myself and my people… and these brave humans who
fight beside us. But if it is our time, please light our spirit’s paths to their Homes in the Heavens!”
That was it. Crossing his arms over his chest, Chack knelt in the gravel, bowing his head, and all the Lemurians who’d joined him did the same. Finished, they then slid back into the trench.
“That’s all?” Jindal asked.
Chack nodded. “Yep. Would you like to lead your own men in prayer?” He huffed. “It might stir the enemy into an even greater frenzy, given their antagonism toward any faith but theirs, but their marksmanship is quite poor.”
“Nooo,” Jindal said reflectively. “I think your service was surprisingly appropriate for everyone. Some may wish to add words of their own, but that’s customarily done in private, regardless.”
Far behind them, beyond the pass they’d used to cross the mountains, artillery boomed and stuttered with a trembling thunder.
“Well,” Chack said, “if Waaterford had fallen, we would have heard. Evidently, the enemy probes the pass with a flanking move. I think that’s our signal to ‘react’ to him! Your bugles will carry better in this wind, and the enemy betweus and the city will better recognize them anyway. Please pass the word to sound ‘retreat’!”
The battered regiments on the ridge began to withdraw, back up the steep incline. Happy cheering rose from the plain below, as did roundshot and volleys of musket fire. Balls pattered around the men and ’Cats, and there were screams when a cannonball gouged through a group of Imperial Marines and bounded upslope.
“Keep movin’, by Jasus!” bellowed a sergeant, “but by His holy name, I’ll eat yer livers if I ever see ye run like this wi’out orders!”
“Halt beyond the crest!” came another shout. “Remember your orders! Re-form behind Major Blair’s division!”
The sun was dropping quickly now; soon it would vanish beyond the mountains and darkness would descend. Chack hoped the sight of their enemy fleeing and the ensuing night would leave the Doms unprepared for what happened next. He himself was taken completely by surprise by what did happen then. He’d paused for a moment, trying to see the enemy in the gathering gloom, to gauge his reaction, when he caught a glimpse of a fleeting shape, then another, swoop past his field of view. Enough sunlight peeked between two distant crags for him to see a distinctive, light blue object pull up beyond the plain and silhouette itself against the still-bright sea. It was a “Nancy”! And then there was another, and another! Roiling pillars of fire erupted from the Dom position, and the cheers of a moment before turned to hideous screams that echoed against the mountains despite the wind and staccato detonations.
“Halt!” he roared. “Stop the retreat! Now is the time! Now! Jindal, where are you? Bugler!” He caught hold of a man still clawing his way upslope as if the noise from below were something directed at them. “Bugler! Sound ‘recall and reform’!” Chack didn’t know if there was a call for that, but recall should be sufficient. “Mortars!” he screamed upslope, hoping someone heard him. “Blair! Mortars, now!”
The retreating Marines, confused by the chaos and suddenly conflicting orders, began to pause. Many shouted at comrades still trying to do what they’d been told before. The night attack by the entire force had been carefully detailed and prepared, but now that was “in the crapper” too. There could be no delay; the time was at hand. Drums thundered on the summit above. Either Blair had heard Chack’s cries, or he’d figured it out for himself-probably the latter. Flashes lit the uneven peak, and more than a hundred mortar bombs lofted into the sky, aimed for the carefully ranged enemy position. Airplane engines still rattled by below, followed by more mushrooms of flame, and Chack hoped they wouldn’t hit any planes. Most of his Marines had stopped now, quickly re-forming to either side of him in the gathering twilight, lit by the inferno below. Gas-bombs, he thought, and shuddered. He’d always hated fire weapons, and though nobody had a problem using them against Grik he knew there’d been talk of not deploying them against the Doms. Well, talk is easy when all goes as planned. Fortunately, the enemy hadn’t known about, or had discounted the arrival of Maaka-Kakja and her Naval Air Wing.
“Chack!” came Blair’s voice behind him, just as Blas appeared at his side. He turned to see his Imperial friend trotting toward him, his whole force advancing down the mountain to join Chack’s and Jindal’s troops. Mortars still thumped from the crest above, showering the plain below.
“Major Blair,” Chack greeted him.
“I suppose if we must forever be reacting to things, it’s better that they be advantageous distractions caused by our people for a change!” Blair laughed.
“I agree entirely,” Chack said.
“See here, Chack,” Blair continued, “your fellows have been hanging out here in the breeze all day. Won’t you let my boys spearhead this advance?”
“By all means, Major Blair. Mine may still be somewhat confused at any rate. We’ll advance as your reserve, but let us move quickly! We must hit the enemy on the tail of this surprise hard enough to break them; then they’ll have to move more troops to stop us. That will give Sor-Lomaak his chance! Pray only he takes it!”
“He can’t have missed the signal! Such a show!” Blair stopped and looked at the sky. A “Nancy” was burning, plummeting toward the sea. “Terrible!” he said.
Chack looked into the gray-gold sky in time to see another plane, its right wing shredded, spiraling down. A bizarre shape detached itself from the falling “Nancy” and darted off into the darkness. “Something is destroying our planes!” he said in alarm.
“What can it be?”
“I don’t know, but those poor pilots have done their duty. We must do ours. Advance!”
USS Maaka-Kakja
“Something’s taking out our planes!” Orrin Reddy said, entering the bridge from the flight comm shack that overlooked the flight deck. Maaka Kakja was the first carrier to have the separate compartment, as well as the first to have an alternate frequency capability. First Fleet would have it as soon as the new equipment was delivered or the more talented “signalmen” made the simple modifications to the equipment already deployed. Orrin had been listening on the new, dedicated “air” band.
“What is it?” Lelaa asked, blinking concern, looking up from a just-delivered fleet report.
“That’s just it! They don’t know! Some kind of flying things, like giant lizard birds, are jumping them out of the dark, and tearing hell out of the planes. Nobody ever said there were giant lizard birds on New Ireland! And why would they go after our guys? They can’t even fight back!”
In the midst of his alarming report, Lelaa noted Orrin had used the term “our” a couple of times, for the first time, since he began performing the duties she’d set him aboard. She shook her head.
“How many have we lost?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been trying to get them to make individual reports, but four for sure. Some may have lost their aerials, but others are damaged and don’t think they can make Glasgow. I told them to try for the fleet, either north or south. If they’re over the island, I told them to make for that big lake by Waterford-if they can find it in the dark! Damn communications! If we could get through to anybody, we could get the guys in the town to light some fires!”
“I cannot contact anyone in the town, but there are plenty of fires in Waaterford, Mr. Reddy. The enemy has begun his assault there, and I’m informed by the Imperial Navy off the coast that the remaining troops at Cork have moved to reinforce.” She turned. “Pass the word for the signalmen to ask any Imperial commander they can contact what those ‘lizard birds’ are and what to do about them. If anyone expected them and didn’t tell us, I want him arrested!”
“But… that’ll leave the guys from Cork cut off with everybody else!”
“It may, for a time. Until we get there. You may have noticed we’ve increased speed.” Her tail swished agitatedly. “That creature, that mouse, Gilbert Yaa-ger, ordered me to come to the engineering spaces and see the murder I was doing to his
engines!” She sniffed.
Orrin stopped. “But… will we make it? I mean…”
“Of course. Even Yaa-ger allowed as much, reluctantly. We have never truly done a full-speed trial, and it’s past due. He’s merely protective of the youngling engines.”
“Well… but we’ve got to do something!” Orrin insisted.
“What more can we do?” Lelaa demanded. “We can’t send another air attack, it’s long past dark. We will put Colonel Shinya’s army ashore at dawn, and it will march to the relief of Waaterford. Major Chack has broken into the outskirts of New Dublin, and the Dominion troops that stopped him there were unable to prevent the landing of almost five thousand Imperial Marines in the harbor! One of the forts has been taken already.” Lelaa paused thoughtfully. “Apparently the Dominion cannot use their ‘giant lizard birds’ against ground troops. I suspect the creatures don’t distinguish friend from foe, individually.”
“But what about Waterford?”
“The troops there, even with the reinforcements from Cork are in trouble,” Lelaa admitted. “They amount to only a few hundreds and as your ‘recon’ flights suggested, they face several thousands. Apparently, there were many more enemy soldiers in Bel-faast than we expected.”
Orrin was looking at the chart. “Almost as if they stuck them way out there knowing we’d ignore it.”
“As I now suspect.”
“My guys bombed the column, but it was still strung out, and it didn’t do much good-no lizard birds got after that flight either… .”
“What are you thinking?”
“Captain Lelaa!” interrupted the signalman. “We get dope on ‘lizard birds’!”
“What’s the story?” Orrin asked.
“They not from here! They like ‘draa-gons’ Im-peer-aals hunt as food-sport critters, but these big draa-gons only ever seen in Dom country! They baad-attaack ships sometimes, but nobody ever know they do for Doms! They prob’ly here to pester ships, laand-een boats, up north!”
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