Waiting on the dock was a platoon of Saan-Kakja’s personal guard detail, still wearing the black and gold livery of the High Chief of Maa-ni-la and all the Fil-pin Lands. Not only were Saan-Kakja’s guards very good, but, being Lemurians, it was impossible for any rebellious Doms still in the city to infiltrate them. Of course, most Doms remained sure ’Cats were demons and preferred to avoid them anyway. That was just as well. Unlike in smaller ports and coastal towns to the south, people here had been “Doms to the bone” and the city only fell after a lengthy bombardment from the air and artillery in the hills around it, joined by an even more destructive shelling from the bay after Admiral Hibbs’s battle line smashed past the harbor forts.
Even then, an infantry assault was required to overwhelm the small garrison General Mayta left behind. And the attack had been unexpectedly costly since just about every civilian inhabitant of Dulce anywhere close to military age joined the fight. They hadn’t been very effective, but they’d inflicted enough casualties on the ’Cats and Impies that they’d actually grown reluctant to risk taking prisoners. Only at gunpoint, and apparently unwilling to martyr themselves, did the alcalde and his blood priests call a halt to active resistance. An uneasy peace ensued, but there were still occasional attacks, and no Allied personnel wandered the city alone.
“Good aafter-noon,” greeted the captain in charge of Saan-Kakja’s guards, saluting. “Please follow me,” she beckoned, as black-and-gold-clad troops formed around them. “It’s not faar.”
Lelaa blinked consternation. “Is all this really necessaary?” she asked, taking in the scene around her for the first time. A surprising percentage of the city, far larger than Guayak, with more stone construction, had been reduced to rubble. People were working to clear the streets and shore up damaged buildings, and when she caught them looking her way, she was unnerved by their hostile stares. We’ve been spoiled, she realized, by how maany Dom civvies greeted us as liberators, even joined us, in the paast. But these people see only conquerors, as destructive to their beliefs and way of life as they’ve always been to others. She stiffened as she, Orrin, and Tex marched along with Saan-Kakja’s guards. Well, she told herself, we didn’t staart this waar. We’re not the baad guys. They’re going to haave to get right with thaat or . . . She considered, tail whipping back and forth behind her. Or whaat? she wondered.
It really wasn’t far at all to the high, pyramidal temple appropriated for the forward-most Allied HQ on Dom soil. The building had been only slightly damaged by the shelling and stood alone on what had been a grassy courtyard crisscrossed with stone walkways. A few craters now dotted the lawn, and the grass—untended and trod on indiscriminately for weeks—was dry and brown. Arrayed around the temple were armed troops, facing outward, and Lelaa truly realized for the first time not only how sensitive and momentous this conference would be, but also, perhaps, how tentative was their hold on what they’d taken.
Their escort halted. “Please go inside. You’ll be met. We must return to the haarbor and escort others here.”
Lelaa nodded. She knew High Admiral Jenks was already present, conferring with Saan-Kakja and the Governor-Empress Rebecca Anne McDonald, who’d both recently arrived from the front. General Shinya himself was supposed to be here, but Lelaa didn’t know if he was. Hopefully, the enemy wouldn’t know either, but she doubted it. That was another problem they faced on this campaign: it often seemed that for every dozen oppressed subjects of the Dominion flocking to their banners to throw off the blood-rite tyranny of their masters and the twisted faith they served, at least one or two were spies. Lelaa looked at the troops surrounding the temple again and realized with a twinge of relief that all were Lemurians. With the entire high commaand of Second Fleet and its Expedition-aary Force gaathered in one place, this must be a very tempting taarget. She was glad the thought had occurred to someone else as well.
She looked up at the shape of the building once more before stepping through a narrow stone entrance, struck by how similar it was in general form to the “cowflops” of the Grik. She’d never seen those other places herself but had looked at drawings, even the wondrous new photo-graaphs. Grik palaces weren’t nearly as artistic, being more chaotic, generally rounded, and, though unimaginably larger, squatter in proportion to their massive footprints. But just like the stepped pyramids of the Doms, Grik cowflops stood on squarish bases oriented to the four points of the compass. Some ascribed their rounded, weathered aspect to eons of actual erosion and proposed they were much older than the Dom structures. Regardless, they were just as sacred, just as central to the bloody culture venerating them, and she had to wonder if sometime, somehow, there’d been a common influence.
It was cool inside, but crowded and noisy. Voices echoing loudly around the stone chamber made an impenetrable din even her excellent hearing couldn’t decipher. Chairs and stools had been arranged in the back third of the temple and a great, covered map hung low behind a hastily improvised lectern standing on a rough-hewn stage. There at last she saw High Admiral Jenks conferring animatedly with Shinya, Rebecca, and Saan-Kakja. She’d seen Jenks that very morning—Maaka-Kakja was his flagship, after all—as he went ashore in his new blue and white, gold-trimmed coat; black shako; and long, braided mustaches. His mild, honest face remained impassive under the growing harangue he was receiving from the hotly angry but still beautiful young Governor-Empress. Saan-Kakja was as radiant as always in her black fur, but her mesmerizing black and gold eyes were blinking deep concern. Tomatsu Shinya had grown a short, somewhat sparse beard and mustache since she saw him last, and he looked on as impassively as Jenks.
No one else seemed interested in approaching them, but Lelaa felt no such restraint and veered toward the argument. She acknowledged greetings from the other carrier skippers, nodded briefly at Admiral Hibbs, who rolled his eyes but wore a worried frown, and continued on, unaware if Orrin and Tex followed or not. They had, and all three converged on the two overall commanders and two heads of state.
“Paardon my interruption,” Lelaa stated, with no apology in her voice, “but I understaand we’re here to finaal-ize plaans for the combined assault on the Paass of Fire.” She glanced at Rebecca. She had great affection and respect for the young ruler, but also recognized her impulsive, volcanic, and sometimes destructive temper. She lowered her voice. “I beg you to consider the . . . chilling effect this display might haave on the confidence of those present.”
Rebecca started to bark a retort, but her smoldering eyes quickly cooled. Saan-Kakja looked relieved, Jenks vindicated, and Shinya’s expression didn’t change at all. Finally, Rebecca took a deep breath and spoke to Lelaa, her tone low, urgent, still angry. “Your Captain high-and-mighty Reddy has ordered—ordered!—Saan-Kakja and I to ‘remove ourselves’ from this campaign!”
“That’s not exactly . . .” Jenks began, but Rebecca interrupted him.
“As if our nations are his personal possessions, and we his subjects to command!” She rounded on Jenks. “And you, my high admiral, and subject of the empire I lead, have taken his side! Some might call that treason,” she growled darkly.
Saan-Kakja’s brilliant eyes flashed. “Thaat’s enough, my sister! You haave no subject more loy-aal thaan High Ahd-mi-raal Jenks! You must aa-pologize at once!”
Rebecca bit her lip but looked stubborn, large eyes set in her elfin face.
Orrin was shaking his head. “God knows Matt can get pushy from time to time, but what the hell’s this about?”
Jenks turned to him. “As the agreed-upon Commander in Chief of All Allied Forces”—he glanced at Rebecca—“irrespective of whether those forces belong to independent states or are members of the United Homes, Captain Reddy appointed me CINCEAST, which means I command all forces in this theater, on land and sea, unless and until he relieves me himself. Becoming increasingly concerned that we still have not one, but two heads of state in constant proximity to combat operations”—he spa
red a glare for Saan-Kakja—“one of whom is a member of the United Homes and has already ignored a direct order from Chairman Letts to depart the theater.” He looked incredulously back at Orrin, his own voice rising now. “Captain Reddy finally—wisely—ordered me to get them the hell off the front lines.” His eyes turned back to Rebecca. “I’m merely attempting to comply with that order.”
Rebecca started to speak, but Shinya interrupted this time. “High Admiral Jenks owes his ultimate loyalty to you, Your Highness. But in this you must obey him, since he can’t be spared.”
Rebecca blinked. “What on earth do you mean by that, General?”
“Simply that he can’t serve two masters. In military matters, he’s oath- and honor-bound to obey Captain Reddy. Yet you, his sovereign, would have him disregard that.” Shinya shrugged. “If you persist, he’ll have no choice but to resign as CINCEAST.” He shook his head. “Is that what you want? Now? I certainly won’t take the job.” He looked at Lelaa.
“Me either,” Lelaa said, blinking disapproval.
“Wait,” Orrin said. “Let me get this straight. All this ruckus is because you and her”—he nodded at Rebecca and Saan-Kakja—“want to keep running around on the battlefield like a couple of kids when you ought to be running your countries? And you’re mad that Matt and Jenks won’t let you do it anymore?” He rubbed his eyes. “Wow. Hey, I’m not in your empire or Matt’s Navy Clan either. The only oath I ever took was to the Army and the US Constitution. I’m just a volunteer, and figure I could technically come and go as I please like those AVG fellas in China.” He grinned. “Easier, since I don’t even have a contract.” Only Tex, and maybe Shinya, got Orrin’s reference to the American Volunteer Group, but his meaning was clear. “But while I’m here,” he continued, “I follow Jenks’s orders ’cause he’s in charge, and I do what Lelaa tells me ’cause I respect her and I fly off her ship. But I’m not subject to anybody, even Matt, so I’ll say what I like until somebody throws me out.”
“And what is it you’d like to say, Lieutenant Reddy?” Rebecca asked through clenched teeth.
He glanced back and forth between her and Saan-Kakja. “Only that it seems to me, for two dames in charge of so much, with so much responsibility, whose people and industries are the only real support we have out here against the Doms, you’re throwing the most childish fit I ever saw, at the worst possible time.”
Rebecca looked furious, then stricken, and Saan-Kakja actually blinked regretful agreement. “He’s right, my sister,” she said solemnly. “Both my lord Meksnaak and your Sean Bates, whom we left as stewards in our stead, plead con-staantly for our return. And not only out of concern for our safety, but so our people will be better motivated to provide whaat our troops need here.”
Rebecca shook that off. “You’re saying those we left safe at home need more encouragement than those who fight and die for us?” she demanded.
“Yes,” Shinya answered abruptly for the Lemurian, and when he continued, his tone was uncharacteristically gentle. “Don’t misunderstand; all Maa-ni-lo and Imperial troops in this theater are inspired by your presence, by your willingness to share their danger, but you’ve already shown that numerous times, and most would rather you were safely away.”
“Hear him, please, Your Majesty,” Jenks begged. “The Empire, the new Empire you made, remains a fragile thing. As is the Union Saan-Kakja’s people joined. Their ideals aren’t well enough established for our people to fight for them alone.” He sighed. “Some would say our friends and allies still fight foremost for Captain Reddy in the west, but the same is true for the two of you here. What if you should fall?” he demanded harshly. Then he looked at Saan-Kakja. “Could your Lord Meksnaak keep the Fil-pin Lands in a war he’s sometimes openly opposed? What will happen to the entire Union if he can’t?” He turned to Rebecca. “Could Sean Bates finish the war and complete the reforms you began if you are lost? Think of it! I assure you that our troops and sailors do. You’re the only symbol uniting the Empire against conspirators who’d turn it back to what it was—particularly without the stability of an heir for Bates to rally the people ’round.” He shook his head. “There’s no question in my mind that, without you, the Empire would shatter and all its component warring parts would be easy meat for resurgent Doms.” He took a breath while that sank in. “Therefore, your continued presence here is not only a distraction at home and a worry to the troops you care so much about, but also potentially cataclysmic to our allies, the cause, and our very nation. Don’t you understand?”
Tears were falling down Rebecca’s cheeks and she dashed them away. “Yes,” she said softly, “I suppose I do at last. I’ve been selfish, haven’t I? I tried to set an example, be the precedent that women in the Empire can be and do so much more than they’ve historically been allowed. . . .”
“You accomplished that long ago, Your Majesty,” Jenks insisted softly.
“Perhaps,” Rebecca reluctantly allowed, then sighed. “Indeed, I suspect it’s been more for my conscience than any other reason that I’ve remained so long. And that my interference has actually made things more difficult and costly at times has made my conscience even heavier.” She took a shuddering breath. “I thought I could assuage it by keeping myself in harm’s way, but I’ve finally really heard your arguments”—she glanced gratefully, but still somewhat accusingly, at Orrin—“after someone had the nerve to put my objections in perspective.”
“Swell,” said Orrin, a little uncomfortably. “Now we’ve got that settled, why don’t we get on with it?” He tilted his head at the noisy, waiting throng. “We been gearin’ up for this long enough. We’re still getting stronger, but I’m not sure the enemy’s getting weaker. There’s stuff I’m worried about.”
“I as well,” Shinya agreed, obviously relieved that the command crisis seemed to have passed. “Our land forces are as ready as we can make them. They have been for some time, and await only the air and seaborne elements of the plan to assume their positions.”
“But it’s the fleet and its air power you’re worried about,” Jenks surmised.
Shinya frowned. “I’ve no doubt they’ll do their duty, or that they’ll destroy all the targets they’re assigned. . . .”
“But you worry about what we don’t know about,” Lelaa guessed.
“Of course,” Shinya confessed. “Any rational commander would. There are always imponderables in battle, yet this time there’s . . . something more.”
“You’re taalking about Gener-aal Blair and Major Blas’s report,” Saan-Kakja stated. Only those on the rough timber stage were privy to their account detailing the meeting between Blair, Blas, and the Dom commanders, as well as the commentaries accompanying it.
Shinya reluctantly nodded. “I’ve never fallen victim to fears before battle, or given much credence to feelings, but I’ve come to respect General Blair’s opinion a great deal—and perhaps Major Blas’s instincts more.”
“As have I,” Rebecca agreed, “and Blas has a very bad feeling about General Mayta.”
Jenks was frowning. “But from my understanding, it stems mostly from the fact Mayta didn’t seem afraid. Excuse me, but isn’t that one of the elements of his perverted faith? That dying in agony will whisk him straightaway to his dark reward?”
“I think you misunderstood Blas and Blair’s aassess-ment,” Lelaa countered. “I didn’t take it to mean only thaat he waasn’t afraid, but thaat he’s confident of victory. They also said he waas smaart, yet he let slip thaat he didn’t think he waas outnumbered”—she blinked disgust—“even in the face of whaat we know his spies have told him.”
There were simply so many spies, of varying degrees of skill and commitment, that quite a few were inevitably caught. The less committed quickly spilled what they’d passed—or attempted to—as well as what Mayta seemed most keen to know. From that, and what their own spies reported, it was easy to figure out what he was
already aware of. He knew, for example, the composition of Hibbs’s battle line, that the Allies now had three carriers and almost three hundred planes on land and sea. He could probably see that Shinya’s X and XI Corps numbered more than sixty thousand troops—roughly equal to what Mayta had in El Corazon—but was also aware Second Fleet carried another entire corps of Impie Marines and would doubtless land them against him. With all that information, how could he be so confident?
“He’s bluffing,” Jenks stated. “Anyone in his position would.”
“I don’t think so,” Shinya disagreed, “which means I must trust Blas’s impression that he truly is eager for battle.”
“So he’s either anxious for the worm feast or really thinks he’ll win,” Orrin said.
“How can we know which?” Jenks asked him. “Have your reconnaissance flights revealed anything that, upon reflection, possesses greater significance than you might’ve thought at first?”
Uncertainly, Orrin scratched behind his ear. “Honestly? The only thing that really bothers me is how easy the runs’ve been. And I’m not complaining. But everybody knows I’ve been harping on that for a while.”
Pass of Fire Page 9