Deadly Shores

by Taylor Anderson

  “Ay, ay, Cap-i-taan!” Kaar replied, apparently relieved, for the first time, to have someone tell him what to do. Before long, the pursuers did give up. But instead of turning back to their rocky roost, they dove down toward the breakers formed by the reef.

  “They had to think we were one of them,” Bekiaa mused through the speaking tube. “Perhaps they noticed we were larger, oddly shaped, and somewhat noisy, but that may have inspired a sense of competitiveness!” She shrugged. “Or maybe they were just trying to herd us back to the cliff.”

  “Could be they were males, and they thought we were a female,” Kaar offered, a hint of humor cracking his tension.

  “Or the opposite, Ensign,” Bekiaa stated more formally. “Just as possible. Either way, I wonder what would have happened today if the Navy, in its wisdom, had not decided long ago on such a fortuitous paint scheme for its aircraft.”

  Ensign Kaar didn’t respond, and Bekiaa leaned out to stare down once more. The frightening creatures were far below now, but already rising from the turbulent breakers. Each had a large fish—perhaps a flashy?—clutched in its formidable claws and was beating its wings with considerably less gusto than before. No doubt they needed to replace the energy they’d just expended. Bekiaa could sympathize. “Let’s return to the ship and report this interesting encounter. I could use a meal myself.” She smiled. “I may even compose a letter of thanks to Commaander Letts and Col-nol Maalory. I believe it was they who chose the colors for the Naval Air Corps!”

  Bekiaa wasn’t smiling later when she stepped aboard Donaghey and learned what had transpired in her absence. Nor was she particularly hungry anymore.

  “There’ll be no more scouts from here,” Captain Garrett said grimly. “We’ll bring the plane aboard immediately, but won’t strike it down just yet. It’ll be a pain working the ship with it in the way, but if the weather holds, we’ll use the plane to scout Reunion Island as soon as we raise it, and before we bring the ship in range of any more flying lizards!”

  “Ay, ay, Cap-i-taan,” Bekiaa said, looking at the shore her Marines never reached. It was a shore she’d have never reached if she hadn’t been so intent on going on the scout—yet another source of guilt for her.

  “When will we leave this place?” Sammy asked.

  “With the tide, if the wind holds like it is,” Greg said forcefully. “There’s nothing for us here, Lieutenant. I’ll want the launch to precede us through the reef, taking soundings all the way, but we’ll use volunteers only, in case those bigger lizardbirds Bekiaa ran into like to use that time to hunt the breakers.” He snorted. “Maybe if they do, they’ll leave us alone with the Nancy on deck.” He looked away. “Every shore,” he muttered.

  “What’s that, Cap-i-taan?” Bekiaa asked.

  “Oh, nothing,” Greg replied, forcing a brittle smile. “It just seems that every shore we touch on this goofed-up world is even deadlier than the last, with the exception of Diego.”

  “I understand there have been others, not so inhospitable as well,” Choon encouraged.

  “Sure,” Greg agreed, “I guess. But I can’t help worrying that when our people hit the beach at Madagascar, they’re going to find the deadliest shore of all.”

  CHAPTER 15

  ////// Second Fleet

  Off Guayaquil Bay

  Aboard USS Maaka-Kakja (CV-4)

  “Oh my God,” High Admiral Harvey Jenks, CINCEAST, practically moaned when Admiral Lelaa-Tal-Cleraan handed over the message form. He read it for himself to make sure he hadn’t somehow misunderstood. They and a large percentage of the flag staff were standing on Maaka-Kakja’s spacious port bridgewing while aircraft were trundled across the flight deck on launching trucks that would be hooked to the hydraulic catapults. Air ops had been ramped up ever since a pair of Dom frigates swooped out of the night and pounded hell out of an Imperial frigate on picket duty north of the fleet. There’d been other scouts, single ships apparently groping around for the location of Second Fleet, but two ships together seemed to prove that the monstrous Dom fleet assembling near El Paso del Fuego might be getting ready to do something. Both Doms were crippled in the fight and easily destroyed by Allied air the next morning, but the Impie frigate had to be abandoned and scuttled as well. Jenks knew perfectly well where the Dom fleet was but had no idea how large it had grown. He was certain he couldn’t afford to exchange one of his ships for every two of the enemy’s, however.

  “The child has gone entirely mad,” Jenks stated with utter certainty.

  “The ‘child’ is your Governor-Empress,” Lelaa reminded, blinking amusement, “and as such, it is my understanding that she may do as she pleases.”

  “How can you take her side in this?” Jenks demanded.

  “How can you not?”

  “Because . . . as Governor-Empress of the Empire of the New Britain Isles—and as a child—her Highness Rebecca McDonald has no business coming to a war that we are doing our very best to keep away from her and our country!”

  “You would not have objected so strongly—if at all—to her father’s coming to the war, had he lived,” Selass-Fris-Ar accused. She was Keje’s daughter and chief surgeon of Second Fleet. She’d also become a very vocal advocate for female rights within the Empire.

  “Of course I would!” Jenks fumed, absently twisting his braided mustache. Then he grimaced and nodded politely at Selass. “Object, that is,” he corrected, “though perhaps not quite so strenuously, as you say. The fact remains, however, that we are in a difficult spot. General Shinya has advanced ashore, but we remain impotent at sea.” He looked at Orrin Reddy, who’d returned to the ship after the Battle of Guayak. “We still know almost nothing of what the Doms have gathered against us at that phenomenal passage Lieutenant Reynolds and Ensign Faask observed. Even better armed, our aircraft simply can’t penetrate the swarms of dragons guarding the place without prohibitive losses. Too much remains mysterious for me to be content with the Governor-Empress’s presence here.”

  “How could she not come?” Lelaa demanded. “I may know her even better than you, after we were marooned together so long, and her will is strong. Besides, Saan-Kakja of Maa-ni-la comes as well, and those two are as sisters.”

  “Adar’s off with Matt, going against Madagascar,” Orrin said. “With Rebecca and Saan-Kakja coming here, nearly all the Allied heads of state will be on the front lines somewhere. I don’t much like the idea of that.”

  “Well said, Mr. Reddy,” Jenks agreed, then took a long breath. “And there is this other matter: the troops our Governor-Empress brings!”

  Lelaa blinked agreement to that. “Sister Audry I know well too. Though she is strong in faith and character, I cannot imagine her commanding a regiment in battle.”

  “Yet that is precisely the plan!” Jenks objected. “And not just any regiment! Doms! It is madness!”

  “I don’t know about that one,” Orrin said thoughtfully. “Seems like having Doms on our side is working okay for Shinya, what with his Guayak Militia, and they barely know their left feet from their right. I hardly know Sister Audry, but if what I hear is true, she’s the perfect dame for the job of leading a buncha converted Doms. So what if she doesn’t know how to fight ’em? Her troops are pros, who nearly took New Ireland away from us. I was there,” he added. “They can fight themselves, and I bet Her Highness wouldn’t’ve put Audry in charge of ’em if they wouldn’t do what she says.” He grinned. “And I bet Shinya wouldn’t mind having some highly trained and motivated ex-Dom troops to leaven the locals—though I’d love to see his face when they come marching up!”

  “How long until they arrive?” Selass interjected.

  Jenks grunted. “That, my dear, annoys me perhaps most of all. There was no discussion about this—none. And they are already on their way!” He smoldered a while longer, then took a breath, apparently bowing to the inevitable. “I will be glad of the ships they
bring, and General Shinya will no doubt rejoice to have the troops, Dom and otherwise,” he said reluctantly. “The new ships will help in that respect as well. I simply won’t commit the rest of our army without the ships to take them off, if need be, as long as the Dom fleet remains a threat. But more ships mean we can land more troops.”

  “And perhaps other things,” Lelaa murmured thoughtfully. “I wonder what kind of ships they are, and what they carry.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Admiral Lelaa-Tal-Cleraan patted High Admiral Harvey Jenks affectionately on the arm. “Surely you do not believe that Her Majesty Rebecca Anne McDonald and High Chief Saan-Kakja would come all this way simply to bring us more of what we already have? If the Dom fleet does not move against us before they arrive, I suspect we may soon have the means to move against it!”

  * * *

  “Who told you to stop digging?” Gunner’s Mate Spon-Ar-Aak, or “Spook,” bellowed in his persona as a first sergeant in the 2nd Battalion, 2nd Marines. The fact that he was no longer in A Company, 2/2, but had been placed in charge of a mixed company of Guayakans stiffened by Impie and Lemurian Marines, didn’t make any difference to him. First sergeants ran their companies on a day-to-day basis anyway, so not much had really changed—so far. Currently, he stood atop a growing berm being built to encircle General Shinya’s entire army, and a Guayakan looked up at him as if wondering what had provoked his wrath. “Yeah, you, you witless, furless, tailless dope!” Spook raged. “Must be brainless too. That fine piece o’ Imperial ironwork an’ wood you is leanin’ on is called a shovel! You s’posed to poke it in the ground an’ heave dirt up here!” He stamped the berm impatiently, but the man just stared. Spook knew he was being monstrously unfair to the local conscript. The kid couldn’t possibly understand the human/Lemurian patois he was using. But Spook’s curriculum was based on the example set by Chief Bosun Fitzhugh Gray, and he knew the “Super Bosun’s” verbal rants had definitely encouraged his understanding. If it was good enough for him, it was good enough for these guys. “By the Heavens!” he roared. “Somebody grab his stupid head an’ point his stupid eyes at real work so he can see what it looks like!”

  They’d planted the AEF and every Guayakan who could bear arms at the strategic north, south, east crossroad about thirty miles north of Guayak, blocking the coastal road from the north, and through the high mountains to the east. There, instead of continuing to pursue the shattered Dom army, they were building even more formidable defenses than they’d left behind, and daring the Doms to hit them again. Not everyone was happy with that strategy, and Spook was one of them. But orders were orders, and if he and “his” company had to defend this section of the works, he wanted it as tall and thick as possible.

  “I wish ye’d explain what firin’ steps are to these buggers,” one of his Imperial corporals complained. “Ever’ time my party makes a go of ’em, them other nits down lower bury ’em up again!”

  “Explainin’ the fine points o’ my celebrated design is your job, Corporal,” Spook replied grandly, swishing his tail. “I’m the idea guy in this outfit.”

  Captain Blas climbed up the outside of the berm where she’d been inspecting the entanglements. She paused when she saw him.

  “First Sergeant,” she said.

  Spook spun at the sound of her voice and saluted. “Afternoon, Cap’n!”

  “As you were.” Blas waved, looking down the length of the earthwork that curved gradually back around to the south. Shovelfuls of dirt rose in the air as far as she could see, like thousands of grawfish were kicking mud out of their tidal-flat homes. There were more than a hundred guns in view as well, many that had once supported the Doms, and they were being placed in wood-decked embrasures with timber and earth protection overhead. Behind, the greater part of the army drilled or lounged in the orderly tent camp erected on a slight rise that was now protected by the growing defenses. Flags fluttered here and there, but the one that drew her eyes stood outside the 2nd Battalian, 2nd Marines command tent: the Stars and Stripes. She looked back at Spook and showed her teeth. “A fine pit we are building, is it not?”

  “Sure,” Spook hedged. He lowered his voice. “But I don’t like fightin’ in no pit. I wish we could ’a kept chasin’ the Doms. It worked swell up north.”

  Spook, Finny, and Stumpy had been in the running battle that chased the Dom land forces away from the Imperial colony of Saint Francis, forcing their retreat from “Caal-i-forniaa.” He would’ve preferred a similar strategy here.

  “I’d have enjoyed such a chase as well,” Blas agreed, “until it lost all steam.”

  Spook blinked confusion and she shook her head. “I’ll always use Navy thoughts, now,” she apologized. “Think like this: Steam takes fire, an’ fire takes fuel. Our fuel lines are still mighty skinny, an’ they all come from the sea, right? The farther we get from the sea, the longer an’ skinnier the fuel lines get. Pretty soon, we don’t get enough fuel to keep the fires lit, an’ we run outa steam. Got it? The Doms got all the fuel in the world, an’ soon as they relight their fires, they’ll have plenty o’ steam. When they come back, we’ll bust their damn lines for ’em.”

  “But what good’ll that do?” Spook asked. “As long as we keep givin’ ’em time to relight their fires, they’ll just keep comin’. All the fuel, fire, an’ steam the fleet can give us won’t do no good once our maa-chin’ry gets too busted up.” He snorted. “Look, Cap’n, I ain’t no youngling that you gotta talk to me like that. I know the score, an’ I been in plenty o’ fights on sea an’ land.” He lowered his voice further. “Cap’n Reddy’d chase them Doms, I know it.”

  Blas looked at him sharply. “I don’t know that he would, but he’s not here, so what he’d do makes no difference. Generaal Shinya’s in command here, and he’s got to plan our battles based on what High Ahd-mi-raal Jenks lets us have. Right now that means we gotta give the Doms the kind of fight they want; that they expect. We’ll keep smearin’ ’em,” she said with a confident blink, “an’ they ain’t gonna like that. But they’ll keep thinkin’ we like to fight just like they do. Sooner or later, though, we’re gonna get to kick this invasion into high gear, and I bet Generaal Shinya and all of us are gonna jump up an’ surprise the hell outa them Doms then.” She could tell by Spook’s blinking that she wasn’t getting through. She grunted, sitting down on the berm. “Look,” she said. “You’re right. I don’t hafta talk to you like that—but it is true.” She waved at the massive works. “Generaal Shinya don’t like this kinda fight any more than us. Not anymore. But I’ve already been ’round this tree with Col-nol Blair myself. We did chase the daamn Doms a long way, after all, before we stopped, and we’d still be after ’em if Shinya had his way, but Jenks pulled the plug. The way Blair explained it, it’s pretty much like I said. Jenks don’t know what the hell’s buildin’ out there, and we will run outa steam fast if the Navy gets chased off!” She shrugged. “I’m not sure it’s the right call either, but it’s probably the smartest call.” She took a drink from her canteen and put the stopper back in the bottle. “So this way, maybe it takes a little longer. Maybe we have another big fight right here around this stupid pit. But eventually, we’ll get all the ‘steam’ we need—so I wouldn’t build a home behind these earthworks if I was you.”

  A flight of three Nancys roared by overhead with bombs slung under their wings. The lead ship waggled its wings. Blas waved back. “That’s Fred an’ Kari!” she cried with glee. “They’re flying again! Ain’t that swell?”

  “Sure is,” Spook agreed truthfully. Fred and Kari had been very popular aboard Walker, and their apparent loss had been hard on their friends. Spook was somewhat amazed they were willing to fly again so soon after their captivity and escape from the Doms, particularly since they knew what awaited them if they were ever captured again. He took off his helmet and waved it vigorously at the planes, now receding toward the great mountain pass. “But they’re
both crazy,” he added.

  Some time later, after Blas had moved along, a faint booming echoed down from the distant pass. The planes must’ve found targets for their bombs. Probably scouts, Spook decided. Whatever’s left of the Dom army we chased outa here is likely still holed up in them mountains, waitin’ for reinforcements. Or maybe it’s scouts for another Dom army. Spook had no idea. Land battles take a awful long time to set up, compared to sea battles, he reflected. It was interesting that Fred and Kari dropped their bombs, though. Maybe they’re just practicing, after so long on the ground? There was little point in concealing the ground-attack capability of their planes anymore, and it made perfect sense to kill any Doms they saw coming or going. But finding enough Doms to drop bombs on in the pass was kind of unusual lately.

  No doubt the planes found some Grikbirds too, and Spook hoped COFO Reddy’s air-to-air tactics were still holding up. He shook his head, staring east. Blas’s explanation of Shinya’s strategy had been simplistic, but Spook had to admit it made sense. The Doms would come, he was sure, and whatever infantry they sent here couldn’t board ships for the Enchanted Isles. That was a “big picture” dividend he could understand. But this fort they were building was liable to draw one helluva lot of Doms, despite all the bombing they pasted them with. And eventually, there’d be one helluva fight. “Keep digging,” he grouched down at his men below, who’d paused to look east as well. “A little thunder in the mountains don’t mean nothin’ to you.”