Against the Tide tcw-3

by John Ringo

  “That is enough,” Conner said, raising his hand. “One more word and you will find out how controlled Roc is.”

  Rachel opened her mouth and then closed it with a clop. But she stepped forward, nonetheless, right up to the thing, staring it in the eye. It stank. Not human body odor, something like the smell of the orc Changed but much worse and included in it was the smell of the rotting blood in its harness. But she stayed there, for a moment, peering into his eyes, trying to find any spark of what he had once been. All she could see was that there was a world of fury behind those eyes. She reached up, gently, touched it on the face and then turned away.

  “I’ve got more butchery to do,” she said, her voice catching. “But I guess I’m not the first, huh?”

  “Just get back to work,” Conner said, gesturing the thing to proceed him.

  “Goodbye, Roc,” Rachel said, softly, stepping over to the sink and starting to wash her hands again. “Whoever you were.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  “What do you think, Lieutenant?” General Magalong said, looking out the window at the retiring New Destiny forces. Their first salient was already a hundred meters from the New Destiny fort and they appeared to be preparing the first parallel.

  “I think we’ve got us a fight on our hands, sir,” Pedersen said. He was standing at parade rest in front of the general’s desk.

  “I think so as well,” the general said, turning away from the window and waving to a chair. “Sit, Lieutenant, before you keel over.”

  “That wasn’t that hard a fight, sir,” Pedersen said, but he sat anyway, sliding forward to keep most of the mess off the chair; he was still rather bloody.

  “Those big… things…” the general said.

  “I think the general consensus term is ogres, sir,” Pedersen said, grinning slightly. “Too… clumsy for trolls.”

  “Ogres and trolls, oh my,” the general replied.

  “Yes, sir,” Pedersen said with a nod. “They’re slow and clumsy but hard to fight. Very long reach. Might be better attacking them with a pike wall. Longbowmen will do a number on them, though, at least at any range under a hundred meters. Heavy crossbows as well. I don’t think they’re a carefully thought out construct; they seem to be just a human design… increased. That’s why they’re so clumsy; humans aren’t designed to be five meters tall and as broad and heavy as they are. I think… if we have some pikes made up with a sharpened edge that stretches back about two meters… Then assign a particular unit to drill with them. Intersperse them in the regular forces to respond when one of the ogres attacks. That should handle it. They just caught us off-guard.”

  “Ogres and orcs and I saw at least two different types of Changed working on the parallels,” the general mused.

  “Yes, sir,” Pedersen replied. “As long as they don’t come out with a corps of orc composite bowmen I’ll be happy, sir.”

  “Not much to be happy about, Lieutenant,” the general said, nervously. “Why are they here? Why are they using standard siege techniques instead of swarming us?”

  “That… is a good question, sir,” Pedersen said, frowning. “Waiting for something?”

  “The rest of the fleet to arrive?” the general asked. “First Legion?”

  “Possibly,” Bue said, musingly. “And, possibly, they don’t have all the troops in the world, sir. They may have to conserve them. We’re not the only group they are fighting.”

  “I’m more worried about some sort of a trap,” the general said. “They haven’t done a number of things I would expect. No attempts at porting into the town. Port in here, set up a port on this side and we have trouble. No dragons. Just standard siege works. I don’t trust it.”

  * * *

  “Doctor Ghorbani,” Conner said, brightly, stepping in the small tent she had been assigned. “Come with me, won’t you?”

  “You’ve got that ‘I know something bad that you don’t and I want to gloat’ look on your face, Conner,” Rachel said, frowning but getting up from her camp-bed.

  “You know me so well,” Conner said, dryly.

  “Hey, Roc,” Rachel said, looking up at the elf-thing. “Adelas tomall.”

  “Do not speak to Roc,” Conner said, sharply, waving at her and muttering a word.

  A wave of pain so strong it, for a moment, made her knees sag, washed over Rachel. Then it was gone.

  “Okay, okay,” she gasped. “I get the point. No talking to the elf-thing. Damn. He was the only person in this camp that had a brain.”

  “Come with me,” Conner said, striding down the line of tents. “So, here we are, peacefully carrying out siege operations against a town we don’t particularly need.”

  “So I noticed,” Rachel said. “And soaking up casualties doing it.”

  “Doesn’t it seem silly?” Conner said, getting back some of his sunny disposition.

  “Yes,” Rachel replied. “It does.”

  “Well, I hope it’s not too obvious,” Conner said as they came to a tent. A Changed was exiting, a new one from the looks of it, and hissed at them for a moment until it noticed Conner’s robes. Then it backed away, fawningly.

  “So you’re making more Changed?” Rachel asked, her stomach dropping.

  “I hope that anyone observing thinks that,” Conner replied, sweeping back the door of the tent. “But, no, we’re not. Behold.”

  Within was a large frame made of some sort of silvery metal and a portal. He gestured her into the tent and then waved for her to follow through the portal.

  When she reached the far side her stomach dropped. The portal was set up in the door of a castle in a large valley. And the floor of the valley was covered in tents. Changed were everywhere, most of them in semiorderly groups.

  “There are eleven of these portals,” Conner said, smiling. “Each of them with a force of about seven to ten thousand Changed on the far side. They have been drilling on entering the portals and the gates of the camp are… large for a reason. Your father thinks we don’t know that he is on the way with archers. With Blood Lords. With another full legion. But we do, oh we do,” Conner said, quietly smiling. “And a little bird has whispered in the right ear that we have you as well. In the camp. Alive. Unharmed. Mostly.”

  “My father will… not come for me,” Rachel said, bleakly.

  “Oh, I think he will,” Conner replied. “Besides, he has to defeat us, doesn’t he? Your father always leads from the center of his main force. First Legion has assembled to the northeast of us and will come down from there, deploying near the head of the peninsula. The bowmen are at least a day further away but they will land near Wilamon and march overland, fast, arriving just in the nick of time and deploying to the north. Dragons will attack from sunward. Did I mention the anti-dragon ballistas? Edmund will feint that he only has one cohort to draw us out. We’ll ‘take the bait.’ Then he’ll attack us with the main force of the legion while the bowmen press us from the flank. We’ll retreat, run, back to the fort. They will pursue. And when they do…”

  “You bastard,” Rachel said, imagining it in her mind’s eye. Her father often said that one of the main mistakes that was made again and again in military history was failure to adequately follow up a broken enemy. He drove routs as hard as he possibly could.

  “And when he comes, when they all come, we will have them trapped. And we’ll destroy the closest two legions and then, Miss Ghorbani, the war will be all but over.”

  * * *

  In the woods a shadow moved, ever so slightly, then settled again. A white head lifted to sniff the air, yowled faintly, then settled back to its vigil.

  * * *

  “Archers will debark here, at Wilamon,” Edmund’s chief of staff for land forces said. “They will march overland at a rapid pace and assemble on the reverse slope of this hill…”

  Edmund nodded as the briefing went on. The archers were in for a hard night’s travel but, weather permitting, they’d arrive in enough time for a bite to eat before the mai
n battle. If the enemy moved the way he anticipated, they would slay them. The group of Blood Lords Gunny had brought with him would do for close support if the orcs broke towards the archers. Between the Blood Lords and their stakes, the archers would be fine.

  And he still hadn’t told anyone about Fell Deeds.

  The battle should go about as well as any battle he’d ever planned. Things would go wrong, but nothing they couldn’t handle.

  So, why was his stomach on fire?

  “That is the outline of the ground phase. Questions?” the chief of staff asked.

  “I have one,” Herzer said. He was in the briefing representing Joanna and the remaining dragon wings. “I know I’m the air guy for this one, but I’ve got an issue with the ground plan,” he said, looking at Edmund then the intelligence officer. “You say there’s only ten thousand in the camp. That’s what they landed with. Why haven’t they reinforced with portals?”

  “We don’t know,” the intel officer admitted. “There have been teleports, but we can’t tell the difference between them and portals. The number of ports has been… high. But they have not reinforced by portal and, yes, that has us worried.”

  “Duke Edmund?” Herzer said, widening his eyes.

  “What would you have us do, Major Herrick?” Edmund asked, softly.

  “Not what they expect,” Herzer replied. “These movements are the minimum that I would expect, given our logistics and movement constraints. But, going in cold like this, the word ‘corncob’ comes to mind. I also note that there is no indication of anti-dragon defenses. That seems… well nigh to impossible.”

  “These are questions that we’re not going to take up at this time,” Edmund said, softly again. “Continue with the briefing. Major Herrick, I’ll see you afterwards.”

  * * *

  “You’ve got a concussion,” Rachel said, holding a candle up to reflect off the ocular mirror over her eye. The left pupil dilated normally as did the right. “You need three days, probably no more, of rest in a quiet tent. Is that going to be a problem?”

  “No,” the officer growled, pulling on his shirt. “Not the way this damned siege is going.”

  “Fine, we’re done,” Rachel said, backing up and rotating the mirror up.

  “You should come by,” the New Destiny officer said, reaching out to touch her red hair. “You’d enjoy yourself.”

  “I’d rather fuck a Changed,” Rachel replied, coldly. “Get out.”

  “That can be arranged as well,” the officer snarled, reaching for her.

  “First of all, if you get your blood pressure up having sex, don’t blame me for the headache you’ll get,” Rachel said, avoiding the grab. “And as to the rest, you’ll have to take it up with Mr. Conner.”

  The officer paused at that and then shrugged. “There will be later.”

  “I’m sure,” Rachel replied. “Now get the hell out of my -hospital.”

  She ducked through the flap of the tent and walked to the rear. The back of the main examining tent was by the east wall and there was a broad avenue between it and the wall. Since it was only used to move troops during an attack or a drill, it was a relatively quiet and out of the way spot for her to try to get her head back together.

  The two Changed assigned to watch her followed her out. They were remarkably docile for Changed but that was Conner’s doing. As long as she stayed in the hospital area and didn’t try to talk to anyone but patients, they left her completely alone.

  She looked up and nodded. The UFS fleet had to be near because there was a dragon up watching the camp nearly every day. It was right towards the sun but that suited her just fine. She ducked her head and twiddled the reflector back over her eye then looked back up at the dragon. It was a chance but she didn’t think the Changed were smart enough to know what she was doing. They had been instructed not to let her talk to people, not to prevent her from signaling.

  * * *

  “Herzer,” Edmund said as the major came through the door. His eyes widened in surprise as the Blood Lord was followed by Megan Travante. “Mistress Travante. I asked to see Herzer, however.”

  “Am I unwelcome?” Megan said sitting down in one of the chairs. She glanced at the floor and saw that the bloodstains still hadn’t been removed.

  “No,” Edmund said after a moment. He picked up a pair of stapled together message sheets and flipped them to Herzer. “From one of your dragons keeping an eye on the camp. You were right.”

  Herzer looked at the sheet and frowned. The top was broken words, the bottom an attempt at translation.

  “Eleven gates in tent,” Herzer read. “Trap for legion and archers. Seventy to one hundred thousand Changed. Feigned retreat. Conner in charge. Buggly.” He looked up at Edmund and frowned. “Buggly?”

  “I used to call Rachel my little buggly-wuggly,” Edmund said, frowning at the desktop. “Not the sort of thing you would expect them to extract in questioning.”

  “And not the sort of thing they’d tell us,” Herzer said, waving the paper. “That it’s a trap. But you suspected that, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” Edmund replied, still looking at the desktop. “And even my intended counter to it won’t work against the full force. Unless…” He leaned back and rubbed at his chin, closing his eyes. “A hundred thousand. How fast for them all to emerge? Figure two abreast through ten portals with the eleventh for special weapons and groups. How fast are they emerging?”

  “Figure twenty per second,” Herzer said. “Close enough. But, sir, we can’t let them come out!”

  “This is the bulk of the New Destiny army,” Edmund pointed out. “If we can break them, here…”

  “Will all due respect your Dukeship,” Herzer said, tossing the paper back down. “We can’t face a fraction of that force!”

  “Yes we can,” Edmund said, his eyes flaring open. “Don’t kid yourself. It’s all in the timing and we can do timing; they can’t.”

  “Timing is all well and good…” Herzer said.

  “How long to construct a fortified camp?” Edmund asked.

  “Two hours,” Herzer replied, automatically.

  “Not a full camp, just the beginnings,” Edmund said. “Stakes and one trench.”

  “Say… forty-five minutes,” Herzer said. “Why the -catechism?”

  “I think we can get that down to fifteen,” Edmund replied. “Okay, the first force comes out. There’s a brief clash. They run back towards camp. What happens then?”

  “We pursue, the main force comes out of the portals and we get our head handed to us,” Herzer said, sighing. “They’ll probably start coming out in the middle of the battle. The retreating forces will be diverted around the camp to the side gates and the main force will sally through the north gate.”

  “How long?” Edmund asked. “For the main force to reach the archers?”

  “Say… fifteen, twenty minutes?” Herzer asked. “Why?”

  “We don’t pursue,” Edmund replied. “Or, rather, the whole force doesn’t. We go to the archers’ hill.”

  “And construct a camp?” Herzer said, aghast. “No time, sir!”

  “There’s enough,” Edmund said. “We’ll have the archers and some people we’ll link up with them start on it. The Blood Lords with them can get it pegged out at least, start on the parapet. Then when the rest get there…”

  “They just have to settle down and dig,” Herzer said. “Fast. But, sir, there are a hundred thousand of them, against six thousand. Even in a camp that’s long odds!”

  “No, against twelve thousand,” Edmund said, poking at the table top. “Caught between two fortified camps. Two legions. Besides, it’s only going to be about fifty thousand, tops.”

  “Sir,” Herzer said, frowning, “Balmoran is too far away to directly affect the main force. They’ll be concentrated, we’ll be dispersed. And they have a fortified camp in the middle…”

  “Oh, I forgot that part,” Edmund admitted. “They won’t have their camp. We will.
”

  * * *

  “And how have you been spending your time, Miss Ghorbani?” Conner asked as Rachel was led into his tent.

  “Sewing up your more useable officers that forgot to duck,” Rachel replied. “How’s the siege going?”

  “Slowly, slowly,” Conner answered. “Unfavorable winds slowing down the fleet, don’t you know. Can’t rush things too much. But they should be here in the morning. Since I’d hate for you to miss the show, I think your duties as a doctor are about done. You’ll be staying… closer to me. Won’t that be fun?”

  “I dunno, do I have to talk to you or can I just play with Roc?” she asked, grinning. “I bet he plays chess.”

  “I have… spoken to Roc about his interactions with you,” Conner said, smiling thinly. “There will be no more interaction. Understood?”

  “Of course,” Rachel replied, sadly. “Hate to break the elf out of the monster, wouldn’t we?”

  “That would be… quite impossible,” Conner said. “There is nothing left of what you would call the ‘elf.’ Yes, as you’ve surmised, it is a modified elf. And there will be more, many more.”

  “Only so many on earth,” Rachel said, musingly. “And they can’t reproduce…”

  “There are ways and ways,” Conner replied. “There will be more. Not that it will matter to you, of course.”

  “Of course,” Rachel said, twitching one cheek. “Although, one of my fondest dreams is being the one that tells the Lady about it.”

  “Forget those dreams,” Conner said, bluntly. “As soon as your father takes the bait, you’ll be going back to Ropasa. Where… something different awaits.”

  “More or less what I expected,” Rachel sighed. “So, in the meantime, what?”

  “Well, as a matter of fact, I do play chess,” Conner said, pulling out a board. “Care for a game?”

  “I can’t imagine you playing chess,” Rachel said, frowning as she sat down. “There’s no way to cheat.”