FROM: ADMIRAL KEJE-FRIS-AR CINCWEST USNRS SALISSA X TO: CAPTAIN M P REDDY CINCAF USS WALKER X EYES ONLY DISTRIBUTE AT DISCRETION X JOKING X HAVE ALREADY DISPATCHED TO ALL FIRST-FLEET ELEMENTS AND CHAIRMAN LETTS X CONGRATULATIONS ON BIRTH OF HEALTHY HIGHLY VOCAL YOUNGLING X MINISTER OF MEDICINE S T REDDY TIRED BUT FINE X MOTHER AND YOUNGLING SEND LOVE TO COURAGEOUS FATHER X SUGGEST COURAGEOUS FATHER MAKE A QUICK AND BOLD DECISION ABOUT NAMES ALREADY DISCUSSED X SURGEON COMMANDS NO FURTHER COMM UNTIL MOTHER RESTS X CONGRATULATIONS AGAIN X MESSAGE ENDS XXX
USS Walker’s horn, very close on the battered funnel standing tall above them, suddenly whooped deafeningly, and Matt almost dropped the message. And even as Walker’s horn kept sounding, Mahan’s joined in, as did those on the steam transports and DDs of Des-Ron 10, even the Repub monitors, Ancus and Servius, a couple of miles away. All was joined by cheering, and Courtney and Bekiaa both wrapped Matt in a hug.
“The last to know?” Matt shouted at Spanky, who’d slid down the rungs of the ladder to the bridge, a mischievous grin on his bearded face.
“Just this once, Skipper,” Spanky yelled back, the grin fading a little. “Things were touch-and-go for a while, and Lady Sandra ordered everybody to keep it mum. Figured you had enough on your mind.”
“She would,” Matt murmured, looking back at the yellow page, suddenly searching.
“So, what is it, Skipper?” Silva asked. “Boy or girl?”
“I’ll be damned,” Matt barked with a sudden laugh of his own. It felt strange, but amazingly good. “It doesn’t say! She wants a name, but how am I supposed to decide?”
“Relax, Skipper,” Silva said. “You got time. Little scudder’s eyes prob’ly ain’t even open yet.” Pam punched him again.
“We all have time now,” Courtney agreed, plopping his hat on his head. “A short respite, perhaps, but well earned. And more reasons than not to celebrate for once!”
Carefully, Matt folded the message form and put it in his pocket, vowing to save it. With a smiling nod at a grinning Ed Palmer, glad to deliver good news for a change, Matt looked at all his friends. “You’re right. For today, the war’s over.” He glanced at Spanky and qualified, “By watches, and those on duty will maintain Condition Three. Work it out.” He looked back at the others. “But we’ll have a Sky Priest say a few words by the funeral pyres tonight and have a real party, Lemurian style.” Lemurian wakes, when they were at liberty to provide them, often degenerated into drunken revelries, celebrating the ascension of the departed into the Heavens.
“We’ll start the war again tomorrow,” Matt added a little more somberly, “and we’ll kick Esshk’s, Don Hernan’s, and Gravois’s asses straight to hell!”
EPILOGUE
////// El Palo
North Coast of Nuevo Granada
Holy Dominion
By Fred Reynolds’s reckoning, the water off El Palo’s brown-sand beach was unnaturally still and kind of dingy-looking. There was no surf and hardly any waves. There was a lot of debris in the water, however, and he had to watch for that as he looked for a place to set his and Kari’s Nancy down. The charred wreck of one of Admiral Duncan’s ships lay in the shallows. Its crew had probably tried to beach it before it sank, or maybe it just wound up there, adrift and ablaze. Only flotsam remained of the rest of the ships that stayed to fight. Interestingly, a lot of that had gone into the construction of several floating docks extending outward from the beach.
Fred touched down on the water as smoothly as if he were landing on a lake and motored over to a dock that looked dangerously overloaded, almost awash. A ship had come the night before, braving the lurking Leopardo to offload food and ammunition. It left before dawn, but the supplies were still going ashore to join a great mountain of crates and barrels on the beach. Wagons were being loaded there, and men in tropical white fatigues carried lighter stuff into the woods like a double line of ants. Several horses stood nearby, men holding their reins. Fred flipped the ignition switch off and the engine behind him died. As always, the sudden silence was deafening. Standing in the cockpit, he caught a line somebody threw.
“Look, Fred! It’s Caap’n Aanson!” Kari cried. Only then did Fred realize it was Anson himself who tossed the fresh white rope.
“Morning, sir,” Fred said, grinning.
Anson smiled. “Good morning to you both. I saw your machine coming in and thought I’d meet you myself. I’m glad to see you well,” he added sincerely. After watching what Leopardo did to six fine ships of the line and several unidentified frigates or transports on the horizon, he’d been very concerned about Donaghey and Fred and Kari. He waved at the line of laborers. “A lamentable circumstance we find ourselves in.”
“Any trouble with the Doms?”
“Little enough as yet, though there are rumors of a large force assembling at El Henal and a smaller one at El Penon. That might ultimately be the bigger threat, as more troops arrive from Puerto del Cielo.” He smiled again. “On the other hand, much as the inhabitants of smaller towns and cities in the west received General Shinya, the locals here also perceive us as liberators, by and large. Many have enlisted. There’s debate whether they should form their own units, as Sister Audry’s Vengadores did, or be integrated into our existing regiments. The latter is simpler. We’ve sufficient former Doms in the ranks to translate, and full immersion makes recruits easier to train.” His smile faded. “And watch, of course. I have little fear of betrayal at present, however. The Doms had no idea we’d come here and couldn’t have positioned many spies.” His eyebrows arched. “And the locals are aware that just having seen us, they are doomed unless we prevail. So far, they seem happy to assist our scouts and help secure provisions.”
“Thaat’s somethin’,” Kari told him, “’cause it’ll be a while before your fleet can keep up with supply. Not with thaat daamn Leopaardo runnin’ loose.”
“Perhaps your Second Fleet might be of assistance?” Anson probed.
“Not likely,” Fred grumped. “There’s not much left. Hardly any surface element, and nothing that can stand up to Leopardo. And the air wings took a helluva beating. It’ll take time to get them sorted out.” He looked worriedly at the sky. “Seen any Grikbirds around here? Maybe even . . . bigger things?”
“There are a number of unpleasant creatures in the forest, much like those you and I encountered once before, but nothing hostile from the air as yet; just the usual swarms of little lizardbirds. We’ll inform you at once if we perceive an aerial threat.”
The NUS invasion force had kept transmissions to a minimum because they couldn’t be certain their code was secure. Particularly with Leopardo and possibly other Leaguers listening. An exception would certainly be made if Grikbirds appeared, especially since the enemy would already know they’d sent them.
“Good, because we should at least have more planes pretty soon,” Fred said, then brightened. “And Captain Reddy and the First Fleet AEF took the Grik capital at Sofesshk! Bet you hadn’t heard that! The war in the west isn’t over, maybe not by a long shot,” he cautioned, “but First Fleet’s on its way!”
“That’s wonderful news!” Anson enthused.
Fred’s expression clouded. “Maybe not so wonderful, since the scuttlebutt is that a big chunk of the League fleet’s coming too. Honestly, sir, they’ve got a lot more metal than us—like Leopardo, but even bigger—and I don’t see there’s much we can do about it.” He paused, fumbling in his pocket. “Look, sir, I was told to hand-deliver a message to General Cox. With Admiral Duncan dead and Commodore Semmes back in Santiago, I guess he’s the cheese.”
“For now, at least,” Anson confirmed, holding out his hand. “I’ll see he gets it.”
Fred gave him the note without hesitation and shrugged. “No secret from you, I guess. Basically, since supply’s so iffy, they’re giving him a choice. Your army can’t just sit on the beach forever, so if Cox doesn’t think he can
carry the fight to the Doms, they want to try to pull everybody out. It’ll take time,” he warned, “and they’ll have to do it sneaky, but they figure they can.”
Anson slapped his hand with the note several times, almost angrily, then put it in a pocket as he turned to look at the land behind him. The trees were extremely tall but otherwise there was nothing remarkable about it. Rows and rows of tents could be seen beyond the little town of El Palo and off beneath the trees in the forest, fading in the gloom and blue haze of campfire smoke. Lots of troops were milling around from camp to camp, and others were drilling in the shade on the beach. Fred saw mounted soldiers approaching along the tree line in a long column of twos, Comanches mixed with what he’d come to recognize as Anson’s sky blue–uniformed Rangers.
“I shouldn’t speak for General Cox,” Anson said, “but I know him well enough that I believe I can. I’m certain I speak for almost everyone in the army—and the natives who’ve joined us, of course.” He turned back to Fred and Kari. “Personally, I’ve been waiting for this opportunity to strike down the hateful Dominion and the evil it nurtures all my life.” Smiling sadly, he fondly regarded his two young friends, both of whom had suffered painfully in the hands of the Doms themselves. “No doubt you understand as well as anyone why we must push on.” His face brightened. “Come ashore. Things aren’t so tight that we can’t spare you breakfast!”
Fred glanced at the sky again, but also caught Kari adamantly shaking her head. “Thanks, but we better not. There will be Grikbirds sooner or later, and I don’t want ’em to catch us with our asses in a puddle.” He leaned over toward the pier and shook Anson’s hand. “So long, Captain. And good luck!”
Several more Rangers had gathered around Anson, and they helped push the plane away from the pier. Settling back on the parachute padding his wicker seat, Fred flipped a switch and shouted, “Contact!”
“We’ll be baack!” Kari shouted as she reached up and propped the engine. It roared to life, and she dropped down in her own seat.
A few minutes later, Anson watched the little plane rise from the water and soar away to the northwest. “God be with you, my friends,” he said. Followed by the other Rangers, anxious to make their scouting reports, he picked his way through the dwindling crates and barrels and labored through the sand toward El Palo and General Cox’s headquarters.
SW Grik Arabia
“And I thought things couldn’t get any weirder,” Enaak sighed as he, Dalibor Svec, several of their officers, and a score of troopers threaded their way through Regent General Halik’s marching camp after another of their “consultations.” Halik’s army had pushed most of the way across Arabia, a land of flat, grassy prairies, scarce trees, massive herbivores, and equally substantial predators. The grass eaters generally looked kind of like kravaas, with four legs, big bony frills, and a cluster of lethal-looking horns pointing forward and to the sides. The most striking differences were their size and girth. The predators mostly went on four legs too, kind of like giant me-naaks. It was hard not to watch them fight, and Enaak and Svec wondered if their cavalry mounts were picking up pointers. Any beasts that looked overly interested in Halik’s long column were discouraged by his now-impressive artillery train, and provided a steady diet for his army—and Enaak’s troopers.
Unfortunately, there were also a lot of Grik, more than might be expected until one considered how many a single large animal would feed. And the fertile plain supported vast numbers of the monsters. The local Grik were understandably protective of their territorial regencies, and sometimes it seemed as if Halik had to fight every group he met. That was bad enough, from Halik’s perspective, but the reasons why, besides simple territoriality, were strange and diverse enough to cause him fits.
Some naturally saw Halik and his hundred thousand troops as invaders from another regency. That happened all the time, and such conflicts had historically been encouraged as a means of population control, even sport, among the various regents. In addition, the great war was far away, the details unclear. The Celestial Mother was worshipped as everywhere, but might’ve been anywhere as far as most knew. A few thought she was still at the Celestial City on Madagascar, and Sofesshk was a myth. This was Enaak’s first indication, when Niwa explained it later, that monolithic as the Grik might be, their empire was so extensive that they also tended to be highly insular from one regency to the next.
Ultimately, the Prime Regent of Arabia (the territory had been established longer than Persia), as well as many of his vice regents, summoned sufficiently high opinions of themselves—and a quarter million old-style warriors—to oppose Halik’s passage on general, historical principles. They were destroyed.
Other vice regents hesitated. They’d heard of Halik—Esshk had been looking for him long enough, after all—but perceived him as Esshk’s direct representative and wanted nothing to do with “Esshk’s Hunt.” What made these encounters most bizarre was that some might’ve even joined Halik if he’d unequivocally declared against Esshk. Since he couldn’t, they’d fought too.
And, oddly, that was an increasingly common theme. For various reasons, to those who knew it, Esshk’s name became less esteemed the closer they got to the ancient, sacred lands of Africa itself. A lot of that had to do with what rumor reported he was up to. He’d “slaughtered all the ancient Hij” at Old Sofesshk, he was “failing in the Great Hunt,” or he’d “stripped whole regencies for his wasted swarms” and left them open to absorption by regents he favored. One rumor claimed he wasn’t even real, that he was a construct of the Chooser. Finally, vaguely related and darkest of all, was that Esshk, or the Chooser, had “usurped the authority of the Celestial Mother herself, and held himself above her.”
Colonel Enaak and Dalibor Svec actually knew which of these rumors were based on truth, and General Niwa probably suspected. But Henry Stokes directly ordered them not to tell Halik, and his reasons were very simple. They still didn’t know what Halik would do when he got to central Africa, and as long as he had to fight all the way, he wasn’t just delayed, but weakened. On the other hand, if he learned about Esshk’s usurpation and did declare against him, he might show up with an army bigger than anything they’d ever seen. He’d probably destroy Esshk for them then, but what if he decided to “rescue” the Celestial Mother himself? They might wind up right back where they started, with a much more capable adversary. Best for now, Stokes advised, to leave things as they were. I’joorka and Hij Geerki would keep working on the Celestial Mother, and if there came a time when she could command Halik with an authority he’d obey without question, their orders might change.
In the meantime, Enaak and even Svec—a little—felt almost sorry for Halik, and how this whole crusade of his was tearing him apart.
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Svec grouched as they finally cleared Halik’s camp and quickened the pace of their mounts in the direction of their own. Despite improvements in sanitation that Niwa instigated, Halik’s camp still stank. Bad. “He ought to just turn around and go home,” Svec added. “Be content with what he’s achieved in Persia and be done with it.”
“Could you do that?” Major Ondrej Svec asked his father.
The older man looked at him, his great beard whipping in the wind around a sad smile. “You know I had a wife before I came to this world,” he reminded his son. “Her name was Darja, and we lived near Kladno.” He added this for Enaak’s benefit, as if the Lemurian should know where Kladno was. “I still miss her,” Svec confessed, but then reached over and roughly ruffled his son’s hair. “But I wouldn’t go back to her even if I could, and I won’t go back to your mother until this war is safely won!”
“I’m in it to the end as well,” Major Nika declared.
Enaak refrained from pointing out that Nika hadn’t been in it all that long. “So, we all haave our destinies,” he said instead. “As does Haalik, it seems. And since we caan’t stop him from doing whaatev
er he waants, we must remain close, be his ‘friends,’ and hopefully steer his decisions to our benefit.” His me-naak hopped a dry gully, and the others joined him. “I’m not sure withholding information as possibly influential as we haave is the proper course of aaction, but we’ll do as we’re told.” He blinked grimly. “Unless thaat conflicts with our ultimate duty: to convince Haalik thaat whaatever he becomes or accomplishes, his destiny is not best served by screwing around with the Graand Alliaance. Esshk won’t tell him thaat, of course, but he’s certainly smaart enough to learn from Esshk’s dis-aasters.”
“Oh, I’m sure of that,” the older Svec growled moodily. “I just hope he doesn’t learn enough from Esshk’s failures to beat us!”
That thought was foremost in all their minds. “He’ll be up against Gener-aal Aalden again,” Enaak reminded. “And Gener-aal Rolak. That might give him pause.”
“If it doesn’t only encourage him to seek a second match,” Svec cautioned darkly. “Halik’s not the same plazivy Alden and Rolak forced out of Indiaa. Not only does he know it, but he commands a much better army now as well.”
Enaak had nothing to say to that.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
(L)—Lemurian, or Mi-Anakka
(G)—Grik, or Gharrichk’k
Lt. Cmdr. Matthew Patrick Reddy, USNR—CINCAF (Commander in Chief of All Allied Forces).
First Fleet Elements
USS Walker (DD-163)
Lt. Cmdr. Matthew Patrick Reddy
Cmdr. Brad “Spanky” McFarlane—XO and Minister of Naval Engineering.
Cmdr. Bernard Sandison—Torpedo Officer and Minister of Experimental Ordnance.
Cmdr. Toos-Ay-Chil (L)—First Officer.
Lt. Sonny Campeti—Gunnery Officer.
Lt. Ed Palmer—Signals.
Surgeon Lieutenant Pam Cross
Pass of Fire Page 56