HIMS Zuiho [6-cloud Rain 14]
JAN SNYMAN RAISED HIS ARMS AND LET THEM FALL. “HANS, RUNNING FOUR SEPARATE OPERATIONS hundreds of kilometers apart is completely insane.”
Coldewe thought this through. “You're right. It is.”
Snyman nodded meekly. “Just checking.”
“All right, we have two shuttles we can use, each of which can carry a tilt-rotor. Plus we have four Sparrows, three of which are flyable, and a transport on the ground with the recon platoon. The recon platoon drops teams to scout the dams a few days ahead of time--” Coldewe broke off. “Karaev, what are you doing?”
“Figuring fuel consumption for the flights you want the recon platoon to make.” Karaev punched numbers into his wrist mount and saved the result. “Please continue.”
“All right. The night we go in, the recon platoon lands two Sparrows to cover two shuttle landing zones. That leaves the rest of the platoon with a Sparrow and a transport to spring the contact team. Does this work?”
“We have a total of thirty-four people alive on the ground, counting Blaar Schuur and the two biologists,” The Iceman commented. “If we place three men in each of the Sparrows we send to the shuttle landing zones, we can get everyone out”
Coldewe nodded. “We use a section from No. 9 platoon at each dam--we have the shuttles drop one four-man team in the water with a boat, and three more teams around the dam to keep the natives from interfering. Jan, who do we have who can use underwater gear?”
“We have a few people,” Snyman conceded. “Now, how dowe get everybody out?”
“Good question,” Coldewe conceded.
Snyman called up computer images of the three dams. “We do what we did for Tokyo. Each shuttle carries a transport. The first shuttle drops off people at dams B and C, the second shuttle lands people at dam A, then they both land somewhere on one of the highways.”
“There are three parallel roads that run straight as an arrow for six hundred kilometers, so there's no problem finding convenient places to park shuttles.” Reinikka shrugged. “'The problem will be finding landing zones that aren't going to be underwater when we want to use them.”
“The transport from the first shuttle picks up the people from dams B and C. The second transport provides taxi service for dam A. What about the contact team?”
Karaev put his fingers on the map. “If we land the second shuttle somewhere near here, the recon platoon has enough fuel to fly on to the shuttle. Barely.”
“That helps,” Snyman acknowledged. “We use half of No. 10 and half the light attack--a Cadillac and a slick--to provide security for each shuttle while the tilt-rotors are in the air. Can we get by with using half sections to blow dams B and C? That way, the first transport can fly from dam C to dam B and back to the shuttle instead of having to make two complete trips.”
The Iceman shook his head. “We have to anticipate resistance at each dam. A half section is insufficient.”
“A full section, then.” Snyman looked at Coldewe. “That means two round trips for the first tilt-rotor. At best, we're talking about keeping that shuttle on the ground for two hours. That’s a long time.”
“Maybe if we keep the shuttle loads light, we can have the shuttles take off and fly around a bit while they're waiting for the transports to come back. They'll be less vulnerable that way,” Reinikka suggested.
“Makes sense to me,” Coldewe agreed. “Piotr?”
“We will need more security on the ground,” The Iceman said, looking directly at Major Aichi, who had remained silent during the discussion. “I recommend using No. 10 to secure the second landing zone, and Major Aichi's platoons to secure the first. Shipboard conditions have not permitted us to train Major Aichi's men properly, but if they are not adequate for the mission, we share in the blame for this.”
Aichi bowed his head.
Coldewe grinned. “I was afraid you'd say that. All right”
“Perhaps Jan and Meri can flesh out details to the plan so that the rest of us can kick it to pieces,” The Iceman said.
“There is another thing I have been waiting for someone to mention,” Snyman commented. “Lange broke his hand playing football, so Mikhail Remma?”s Cadillac is going to need a substitute driver.”
Coldewe was struck by a ghastly thought “Oh, no. Not that!”
“You were the one who convinced us to bring Prigal along,”Kolomeitsev pointed out. Briefly, there was silence.
Snyman looked around soberly. “Think we can pull this off?”
Coldewe spoke, and for once, the humor left his voice. “Anton stuck Isaac Wanjau on the contact team to take a close, personal look at the Blue soldiery. Isaac says we can take them.”
He put his arm around Esko Poikolainnen. “Esko, why don't you work up a computerized attack simulation so we can identify gross errors before we actually commit them.” He waved a finger and added sweetly, “Oh, and Esko? No option G this time.”
The attack simulation worked up for the Tokyo raid included an option G, wherein a large green monster trampled the city.
HIMS Zuiho [7-cloud Rain 14]
WORKING FROM A SHELF THAT FOLDED OUT INTO A DESK, Nicola Bosenac's fingers began tripping over themselves as be tried to fit an amplification module into place.
Bosenac, trained in electrical engineering years before, grew more and more detached as the work progressed. He knew enough to adjust the frequency modulation for the distortion of Neighbor’s atmosphere, but the details seemed to elude his memory. Finally, he set down the half-completed radio. Moments later, his mind registered that someone was knocking at his door.
“Father Bosenac?”
Bosenac realized it was Gu on his nocturnal rounds. His answer caught in his throat. Wetting dry lips, he reached for the radio and succeeded in knocking it to the floor.
Hearing the noise, Gu threw his body at the door and sprung the lock.
“Hello, Gu.” Bosenac tried to keep his eyes from straying to the floor. “I wasn't expecting you.”
“Father Bosenac,” Gu repeated, this time in a reproachful tone. He punched the intercom. “Colonel Vereshchagin. Gu here. Please come to Father Bosenac's cabin.”
Gu folded his arms. He made no effort to speak. and perhaps no speech was necessary.
Tired, Bosenac left the pieces where they were. Anton Vereshchagin appeared a few minutes later. He looked at Gu and Bosenac, then he quietly shut the door.
“I wanted to warn them. I couldn't quite make myself go through with it.” Bosenac willed himself to relax, and his voice assumed a semblance of normalcy. “I thought of all those people dying. I'm sorry.” His eyes strayed to his handiwork. “I suppose I should have tried harder.”
Vereshchagin said nothing.
“I prayed over it Believe me, I prayed. I prayed it was God's voice I was hearing and not my own pride.” Bosenac picked up the partially completed radio. “I took the parts when Rytov wasn't looking. Please don't punish him.”
Vereshchagin paused, as if considering his response. “For the last few hours, I have been taking counsel of my fears. Although it is dangerous for us to strike the Blues too softly, I believe that destroying three dams will be sufficient for our purposes. It does no harm for me to tell you first. Please pray that I have not miscalculated.”
Bosenac bowed his head. '“Thank you, Colonel.”
Vereshchagin took the radio from Bosenac and tossed it to Gu, who caught it neatly in his right hand. “None of this happened,” he told Gu. “Please take these pieces to the armsroom.”
L-Day plus 476 [2-river Rain 14]
“THERE IT IS. WHERE DO YOU WANT TO PUT DOWN?” CORPORAL ERASMUS VAN ROOYEN asked Section Sergeant Thys Meiring. A second Sparrow carrying Meiring's partner followed at a respectful distance.
Impossibly tall and gleaming white in the starlight, dam B was a graceful arc curving between massive granite cliffs. White water shot from sluices far below. Meiring's eye
s could not accept the disparity between the immense monsoon swollen lake on one side of the dam and the seemingly trivial river on the other.
“Where do you want to put down?” van Rooyen persisted.
Meiring, whose sobriquet was “Bad Hand” because of a permanently stiffened finger, finally nodded. “How much fuel you got?”
“Enough to get back if another storm front doesn't move in. Not much reserve.”
“Right shoreline then. Look for a solid spot. If you don't see one, slow down and I'll get out if you promise not to drop me in the lake.”
“Promise.” Van Rooyen laughed as the ungainly little plane caught the updraft from the dam. “They say muck stinks if you stir it up. You watch out for yourself, Section Sergeant”
The Sparrows set down recon teams at the other two dams the following night. To the Blues, prophetically, it was the third day of river, in the fourteenth year of Rain.
HIMS Zuiho [4-river Rain 14]
“STUNDE NULL,” COLDEWE SAID, REVERTING TO THE LANGUAGE OF HIS YOUTH. “ZERO HOUR.” He was uncharacteristically subdued as Aoba departed to place the two shuttles brought from Suid Afrika into position, perhaps brooding over being asked to remain behind.
For a departure meal, Jan Snyman's men had voted for Rassetegai s Ryboi, a flaked pastry fish dish, and fruit tarts. Aichi's platoons had asked for shiruko, red-bean soup, and sweet ohagi served with the last of the apples.
Meri Reinikka shook the cobwebs from his head. “Do you know what strikes me as funny, Anton? A blue man spent his entire life preparing to build those dams, and I spent my entire life preparing to bring them down. What took years to build we will destroy in minutes. Men are better at destroying things.”
Kolomeitsev snorted. “I know this, Meri--the Blues who built the dams trimmed canyon walls and cut away riverbed to put them in place. To build, you must destroy what is there in order to raise a foundation. War is only a leveling. It is what is raised after that is meaningful.”
Vereshchagin watched until Aoba's outline dwindled on the screen. His appetite gone, he set aside his plate, square in shape as a sign of mourning. “To raise, and to raze. The two words mean different things, and yet they have much in common.”
“Remember Hanna Bruwer’s old kylix, the one with all the mended cracks?” Coldewe said suddenly. “Rikki brought it with her.”
Vereshchagin did not trust himself to speak.
Nicola Bosenac had retired to his cabin after giving absolution and communion to those who desired it The Iceman jested, “Father Nicola has been solemn of late. Perhaps we could drum up a few christenings to cheer him.”
“If losing a few dams doesn't convert the Blues,” Coldewe said, knowing how The Iceman's mind worked, “we'll have to really show them we're serious.”
“The Blues are singularly unlucky,” Kolomeitsev said.
L-Day plus 479 [5-river Rain 14]
Dam C: 2150 hours
AS UBORBVICH'S SCATTERED FIRST SECTION OF NO. 9 PLATOON FINALLY ASSEMBLED, Platoon Sergeant Kaarlo Kivela rubbed the ankle he bad banged coming down. “Any final thoughts before we go in?”
Superior Private Bloff, entrusted with a special mission glared at him. “I still say it’s not right!”
Uborevich glanced up at the heavens.
Dam C, farthest upriver of the three, was a low structure three kilometers wide, built of four great arches. Water was pouring down the massive spillway, and more was flowing tbrougb the penstocks that turned the turbines. Kivela touched his radio. “Nine point one-one. Break. Kivela here. Donkey, are you where you can see?”
Donges was, and Kivela whispered, “Let’s go.”
With Donges's GP machine gun in position to provide fire support from the rock face, Kivela led six men and a dog named Greta down a goat’s path to secure what looked to be the powerhouse and substation. Uborevich blew the “telephone” cable and took three more men on bicycles across the top of the dam to clear the smaller complex on the far side.
Inside the powa handful of surprised Blue engineers, technicians--circus clowns, for all Kivela knew—ignored Kivela's clumsy instructions to lie down on the floor.
They died.
Kivela absently fed a fresh magazine into the silenced submachine gun he held in his hands. “You know bhow this works?” he asked his grizzled little engineer, Moushegian.
Moushegian stared down It the unfamiliar control panel and threw up his hands. “Short of pushing every lever, I haven't the slightest clue.”
“Wire the turbines. and we'll start pushing every lever.”
Moushegian began selecting appropriate charges from his bergen, muttering to himself, as Kivela's men finished clearing the near-side pumping station.
Kivela turned to Eloff. “It looks like we're all clear here. You want help to do the honors?”
“No, I can do it,” Eloff replied. clearly disconsolate. “But it’s purely unnatural! Unnatural is what it is!”
Kivela patted him on the shoulder. “There's a time for all things, like it says in the Bible someplace. Go to it.”
While Eloff trotted off to plant a sign marked with a white gallows insignia and the word BANG! on top of the dam beside the spillway, Kivela watched Moushegian wiring the turbines in their ceramic shafts. “Sometimes we blow up dams,” he murmured to himself, looking downstream, “and sometimes we don't.”
Kivela wasn't sure whether the Blues would know what “bang” meant, but he was fairly sure they'd figure it out.
Not otherwise occupied. Snack Bar Meier found some sheeting in one of the overhead storage cabinets and used it to cover the bodies.
Eleven minutes later, with help from Donges up top, Moushegian finally found the lever that controlled the scouring galleries. After pushing open the gates to release a torrent of water-the merest fraction of the reservoir’s capacity-rushing downstream, Moushegian wired the controls.
Still wondering to himself why absolutely nothing had gone wrong, Kivela took his men to the far side to rendezvous with the transport that was supposed to pick them up. At 2238 hours, expedition time, dam C's turbines began exploding.
Cuextla: 2242 hours
KEKKONEN LOOKED AT DE KANTZOW AND KEYED HIS RADIO. “RECON POINT ONE. Break. Lieutenant Wessels, everything is still quiet here. Where are you?”
Like most of the other buildings in the veritable warren of structures in Kekkonen's immediate vicinity, the building where Wanjau's signal had come from was immense, perhaps thirty stories high and with a roof as large as four football fields. However, Kekkonen could see all of the roof from where he sat, and Lieutenant Wessels, the recon platoon leader, and the rest of his people were clearly neither present nor accounted for.
“I always love these frosting finely timed operations. You know, the ones where you got to synchronize your frosting time display and that sort of thing,” de Kantzow reminisced.
“Shut up, DeKe!” Kekkonen listened. “Yes, sir. We're on top of the building. . . . Uh, Lieutenant, what do you mean you're on top of the building. We're here. Where are you?”
“Problems?” de Kantzow inquired.
“Give me a fix on our position.” Kekkonen said astringently.
De Kantzow did so, and Kekkonen compared positions with Wessels. “They're about twenty blocks away. I guess we might be a little rustier at this than we thought. Wessels is so mad he could spit Are we on the right building or is he?”
“We are,” de Kantzow said confidently. “You know, this frosting kind of thing wouldn't have happened in the old days.”
“In the old days, we had Prigal,” Kekkonen pointed out. “I'm talking to Miinalainen now. Wessels must really be mad. He has a team inside already, and these buildings are like mazes. It’s going to take him a while to get them out, and even longer to get here. We need to be on our way before the dams go up. Miinalainen wants to know if we want to try to rescue the contact team ourselves or abort?”
De Kantzow
looked down at Dolly, who was still sitting inside the small Sparrow aircraft that had brought them. “Dolly, what do you think?”
Dolly wagged her tail.
“She's for it,” de Kantzow announced, scratching the dog under the chin.
“Okay. Miinalainen and Wessels say do it. You lead.”
Dam B: 2252 hours
FROM THE ROAD RUNNING ALONG THE TOP OF DAM B, LIEUTENANT MIKA HILTUNEN stared far down the air face of the dam at white water and a vast array of workshops and maintenance plants the Blues had built along the canyon walls to either side. The view made him slightly dizzy; the reservoir at his back was considerably larger than the parish in which he had been born. He looked away from the chasm in time to see Kokovtsov's shuttle pass between two water-intake towers and slow almost to stalling speed ten meters above the wavelets, its noise swallowed up by the rushing water.
“We keep telling Coconut you are not really supposed to fly a shuttle that low,” he told the private standing next to him, a cowboy named Lin.
As they watched, the clamshell doors in back of the shuttle opened and a drag chute popped out, jerking the loaded assault boat free. As soon as the boat cleared, four men in scuba gear jumped into the water after it.
“Captain Sanmartin used to love the reef animals, used to talk people into going to help collect them.” Hiltunen shook his head. “Never thought it would ever come in handy.”
The boat threw up a massive waterspout as it hit and peared beneath the surface. A few seconds later, as the ripple it created spread, it popped up. Hiltunen watched until the first of the frogmen bobbing in the water managed to swim to the boat and climb aboard.
Cain's Land Page 34