Storm Surge

by Taylor Anderson

  “King” Tony Scott and maybe a hundred more warriors joined them as the sun plunged from the sky and the mosquitoes and night creatures inherited the earth. He limped rather badly, but did move better than Silva expected with the aid of a rigid, split-bamboo brace encompassing the outside of his leg from his hip to his foot and ending in a shelflike sole for his foot to rest upon. Otherwise, the brace was secured by straps, and the top was fastened to a belt around his waist. Dennis doubted he’d walked all the way from his village, but he was moving pretty briskly now.

  “So? What do you think?” Tony asked when he joined them under the shelter.

  Abel looked at Silva, then turned back to Tony when the big man didn’t respond. “We’re, ah, still waiting for Sergeant Moe to report, but with your people’s description of the Jap perimeter, we’re gaining a good idea of the tactical challenge.” He motioned to Silva’s map, laid out on the ground. It was crudely drawn with charcoal on the flesh side of an animal skin, but the cove and its environs were unmistakable. “I think we’re agreed that our first priority is securing or destroying Hidoiame. Not only is she a threat to our Alliance, but she’s the Japs’ only hope. They can’t sustain themselves in this country forever, and they have to know that. All they want is to fuel her and leave.” Nearly everyone was nodding. “Take her away, and everything crashes down around them. Even if we can’t defeat them outright and never get outside help, the Japs will eventually realize they have no choice but to surrender or die. Everything we do must be geared toward getting a defensible force aboard Hidoiame!”

  The nodding continued, and Abel’s voice firmed up. “At the same time, though, we have to rescue the Lemurians.” He noted a few mutters, but continued. “Think of it. If we capture Hidoiame, the Japs will certainly use their hostages to try to get her back!” He swallowed and looked directly at Tony Scott. “No matter what they do to them, that will never happen, I swear. But our secondary objective must be the prevention of atrocities against the prisoners! Besides, if Sergeant Moe is successful, we’ll be in a much better position to defeat the Japs completely if we add the Lemurian numbers to yours.” He frowned. “I’m quite sure they’ll be more than happy to kill their captors.”

  “Okay,” Tony said. “But how do we do all that?”

  Gunny Horn spoke up. “We know the Japs had a heavy crew to start with, after they abandoned the Maru. Walker probably killed some, but you said at least two hundred armed Japs killed the folks around here.”

  “Two hundred or more—and there had to be some still on the ship.”

  “At least an anchor watch,” Horn conceded, “but with crews on all her guns trained ashore and on Fristar. Let’s assume there’s three hundred and fifty of ’em. But they’re spread around. See? They’ve got this perimeter around their camp, guards at the well sites and the prison camp, and workers on the ship. Probably have at least a few guards on Fristar.” He pointed at the map. “The weak link’s the shore, right at the ship. They can’t be thick everywhere, and they’ve got no reason to think we want their damn ship! Even if they’re thicker close to her, they can’t stop a determined wedge of warriors”—he hoisted his BAR—“with a few modern weapons they don’t expect, runnin’ straight down their scrawny damn throats!”

  I’joorka’s large eyes flicked back and forth at the map. “Yes, yes! Exce’t Khonashis attack all round at start, draw their thoughts!”

  Silva looked at I’joorka with genuine respect. “A big diversion would be my very favorite thing about then.” He ruffled Lawrence’s crest. “How come you didn’t think of that? Are Tony’s lizards smarter than you?”

  “I thought it too!” Lawrence defended, and there was a bizarre mixture of laughter. Silva looked back at I’joorka with a serious expression. “You know we been fightin’ Griks—folks that look a hell of a lot like some of you—for a long time.” It wasn’t a question, and I’joorka bowed his head. “Well, I just want to say that you Khonashis are right guys, in my book,” Silva finished.

  Tony was grinning. “They really are, you know.”

  There was a disturbance among the warriors gathered to hear, and Moe and one of his Marines stepped under the shelter. Both saluted, though Moe’s was a little awkward. “Gotta report, Mr. Cook,” Moe said.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Abel greeted him. “Was your mission successful?”

  Moe blinked affirmative. “Aye. I sneaked into compound and talk to Anai-Sa hi’sef.” He spat. “Chikkinshit. But his Sky Priest and some warriors dat trained wit our Marines once was der, an’ dey listened up. I tole dem what was what an’ dey said dey’d rise up whenever we attack the goddamn Jaaps.” He paused. “Dey not in such good shape, though. Dey not been eatin’ good for long time.”

  Horn swore. “Same ol’ Japs!”

  “Where are your other Marines?” Abel asked.

  Moe shrugged and blinked uncertainty. “I send dem to check wells. We was too many together for sneakin.’ I thought dey be here by now.”

  “If they got captured . . .” Tony began.

  Moe shook his head. “Dem boys not be captured. Dey maybe dead, but not captured.”

  “Still,” Brassey said, “Whether captured or killed, the enemy may be on to us.”

  “Jaaps not tell dey was Marines,” Moe objected. “Dey taked der swords an’ Khonashi spears, but leaved their rifles. Dey look jus like Fristars.”

  “That may not matter,” Horn said. “Even if the Japs think they were ’Cats escaping from the compound or one of the worksites, it might put ’em on their toes.”

  Silva was nodding. “Then we have to attack tonight. Now. Like I always say, when in doubt, don’t just stand there; do somethin’. Let the bad guys worry what’s comin’ next. We better get to work.”

  “I agree, but one thing remains,” Cook said, pointing at the map. “Here’s Fristar, moored near the center of the cove. We can’t signal her, since there’re bound to be Japanese aboard. We must get word to her, though, just as Sergeant Moe did at the camp.”

  “How?” Scott demanded. “Why? The Japs ashore and their damn destroyer are our main concern. We take them out, and we’re done.”

  “I think I see where Mr. Cook’s headed with this,” Pam said. “Whatever we do, most of our forces will look like him.” She motioned at I’joorka. “How do you think the Japs and Lemurians on Fristar’ll react to what they’ll think is a general Grik attack against everybody? Fristar has cannons. Remember?”

  “Shit! Good point. But how can we get word to ’em?”

  “Dennis can s’im out there!” Lawrence said enthusiastically.

  “My ass! I ain’t swimmin’ out there! With all that gri-kakka cuttin’ goin’ on, that cove’s prob’ly got the thickest pack o’ flashies that ever was! Besides, I’m boardin’ the Jap can!” The last was not a request, but a statement of fact.

  “You s’im in ’lashy ’ater once,” Lawrence persisted.

  “Yeah!” Pam agreed. “When you jumped ship outa that ‘Buzzard’ that was supposed to bring you back to Baalkpan! What did you do?”

  “I smeared grease on myself,” Silva answered reluctantly, “like ol’ Moe suggested once.”

  “Dat worked?” Moe asked, amazed.

  “You mean . . . Why, you fuzzy old bastard!”

  “It doesn’t matter if it worked or not,” Abel interrupted. “We don’t have any grease.”

  Tony Scott shifted. “Ah, yeah we do. Maybe. Sorta. There’s places around here where tar oozes up out of the ground. Always has, here and back home, both. You think smearin’ that on will keep the flashies away?”

  Abel considered. “It might. It should. How far is it? We do need to get moving.”

  “I ain’t swimmin’ out there!” Silva repeated defiantly.

  “I’ll do it,” Stuart Brassey said, his voice a little uncertain but his expression set.

  “I,” Abel started, then stopped when he saw Brassey’s face. He looked down. “Very well, Midshipman Brassey.” He looked
at Tony. “Mr. . . . King Scott, can Mr. Brassey ask your people for volunteers to accompany him?”

  “Holy shit. Sure, I guess. Swimmin’ with flashies? Goddamn!” Tony looked at Stuart. “You got more guts than I do, kid.”

  Pam Cross sighed, cutting her eyes at Dennis. “Well, I guess I do too, ’cause I’m goin’ with ya, Mr. Brassey.” She raised her Blitzer Bug. “This might come in handy, and it don’t go nowhere without me.” She returned Silva’s sudden glare with equal intensity. “What? You can swim with flashies an’ I can’t? Think again, you big jerk!”

  Dennis took a breath to argue, but one of Tony’s human advisors spoke up. “You all swim if you want, but I ask why.” He pointed at the sky. Those who’d been on the expedition from Baalkpan realized this was the first good look at it they’d had in weeks. The moon had horns, and Venus was near it, bright and sharp. “Why not take boats instead? There enough light to see, but not so much they see you comin’ against dark water.”

  “Boats are better,” Silva agreed, glaring at Lawrence. “Just because somebody’s worked up an obsession for swimmin’ with flashies don’t mean it’s a good idea.”

  Abel nodded at the man. “Of course boats would be better. It should’ve occurred to me to ask if any were available.” He frowned at Dennis. “Perhaps it doesn’t always hurt to stand about for a moment or two, to think things through.”

  Silva just shrugged and stifled a yawn, but Abel suddenly realized that the exchange had revealed something very profound. He was in command, but he’d always followed Silva’s lead. Always. For as long as he could remember, Silva had always saved the day with his impulsive snap decisions, but Abel had just seen how those decisions could lead to rash, possibly unnecessary risks. Not only by Silva himself, but everyone around him. Lawrence’s wild suggestion had been only that: a suggestion. But Abel was amazed how quickly everyone jumped at it as a viable option. Even Tony Scott, who clearly remained terrified of the water after all this time. That happened because Silva allowed a debate on the merits of the notion, instead of immediately proclaiming it a stupid idea. He obviously thought it was stupid and hadn’t been willing to do what Lawrence suggested, but he hadn’t seemed too concerned that someone else might try it—at least until Pam volunteered.

  Abel still trusted Silva’s instincts and believed he was right about it being time to act. If Moe’s Marines had been discovered, it would heighten the enemy’s readiness, and the longer they delayed, the more likely Tony’s encircling Khonashis would be discovered and the readier each Japanese position would be. But Abel also recognized for the first time how narrow Silva’s focus could be. Of course Dennis should lead the attack against Hidoiame. If anyone could get aboard her, he would. But the “Lady Sandra” had been right so long ago when she said Silva had no business being an officer or being in a position of authority over anyone beyond his own, immediately personal objective. Abel would have to remember to bear that in mind.

  He studied the map a moment longer, then glanced up at Tony. “With your permission, King Scott, may I suggest a plan?”

  Tony waved a hand. “Sure, kid. I’m a coxswain who got elected king because I knew about a few weapons and married well.” Abel knew there had to be more to it than that and was anxious to hear the story, but now wasn’t the time.

  “Okay. I suggest we gather as many small boats as necessary to move Mr. Brassey, Lieutenant Cross, and twenty or thirty volunteers out to Fristar without delay.” He looked at Brassey and the small woman. “Take the ship as quietly as possible, but if you draw attention, the rest of us will consider that our signal to begin the general attack. If you manage to take her quietly, wait for the fighting ashore to begin, then cut Fristar’s cables and get her underway. Hopefully there are enough ’Cats aboard to do the job. I’m betting nobody’ll think much about her once we get their attention. Regardless, I want you to move her out of the cove and Hidoiame’s line of fire. That’ll be one less thing to worry about.”

  “I guess you’ve seen those cables before, Abel?” Brassey asked. “Cutting them won’t be a thirty-second job.”

  Abel nodded. “Right. Leave a detail in the boats to cut them from the water as you board. The idea is to get her moving as fast as you can. . . . And if things don’t go well for us, make for Baalkpan. Bring help.” Pam shot a neutral glance at Dennis but nodded. “You got it, Mr. Cook.”

  “That’ll take weeks!” Silva objected. “Damn thing’s slow as hell.”

  “So? Our only do-or-die mission is Hidoiame. If we take her, we’ll have weeks to wait for relief! All our shore-bound forces will have to do is contain the remaining Japanese.”

  Dennis scratched his eye patch, nodding.

  Abel looked at Tony. “Regarding the shore action, you and I should take your warriors and encircle the enemy perimeter. We’ll be on the right, with Sergeant Moe and his Marine. There we’ll be in a position to support the Lemurian breakout from their camp—if it comes. Mr. Silva, you, Gunny Horn, Lawrence, I’joorka, and one hundred Khonashis will attack from the left, along the beach on the west side.” He pointed. “Your objective, obviously, is to break through and secure the ship. If the assault on Fristar raises no alarm, wait for our attack to distract the enemy before you go. Once you break through, we’ll send more warriors from our left to widen the gap, hopefully rolling up the Japanese perimeter and reinforcing you.” Abel paused, looking at the map, wondering what he’d forgotten.

  “Looks okay,” Horn said. “But what then?”

  “With the enemy cut off from their ship and hopefully encircled by our forces and the Lemurians from the prison camp, the survivors will have no choice but to surrender.”

  “With respect, Mr. Cook, Japs ain’t much for surrenderin’,” Horn objected.

  Abel held his hands out at his side.

  “One more thing,” Scott said. “What about the Japs at the well heads?”

  “You’ll have to send blocking forces to keep them contained,” Abel replied, then realized what he’d said sounded like an order. “If you please,” he amended. “Their forces can’t be large enough to break back through to their perimeter—and maybe the Lemurians there will rise as well.”

  “Or join ’em, if they think their Home’s at risk,” Pam suggested darkly.

  Abel frowned. “With luck, Moe’s Marines contacted them and explained the situation before they were captured or killed.”

  “So, what do we do once we’re on the tin can?” Gunny Horn asked.

  “Simple,” Silva answered flatly. “Kill ever’body.” He looked at Moe and hesitantly handed the short Lemurian his giant rifle. “Thing’s not much good for what we’re up to tonight. You take care of it, wilya? Hide it someplace safe er somethin’. I’ll take one of the rifles and bayonets your Marines left behind.”

  “Sure you don’t want to use it for a preparatory bombardment of the Jap position?” Horn asked innocently, and Silva rolled his eye.

  CHAPTER

  24

  ////// “Battle of the Hoo-dooy-yammy”

  May 6, 1944

  “P lans are all just a stupid waste of time,” Silva grumped softly. “Nobody ever uses the damn things when it gets down to it.”

  The boarding party assigned to break through the Japanese closest to the ship had been waiting in place for almost three hours, and the general attack on the perimeter should’ve begun more than an hour before. This was on top of all the time it took everyone to get in position, and it had to be close to 0300. “If we don’t get on with it, we’ll be at ’em in the daylight, because we can’t just sit here and wait for ’em to see us. They’ll pick us off like flies.”

  “Plans do seem highly overrated,” Horn agreed.

  “It take longer to get Jaaphs surrounded than exkected, I guess,” I’joorka said. Silva looked at him in the gloom.

  “Hey, do your fellas see pretty good in the dark? Larry sees better than me, but most folks do nowadays. Grik don’t fight a lot in the dark, though, an’ we a
lways figgered it was because they got crummy night vision.”

  I’joorka cocked his head. “I don’t see as good in night as day, ’ut I can still kill Jaaphs.”

  Dennis looked at Lawrence, who seemed utterly motionless, peering from behind a big, gnarled root at the edge of the trees. Only a meager, telltale scritching sound betrayed that any part of him was moving. “What’re they doin’?”

  “They changed their guards a little ago. I seen they clear. They got . . . phires in a circle around their shelters on the other side o’ they. Stu’id!”

  “Yeah, stupid. They’re fine targets even for good crossbowmen. But what about that forted-up spot close the water? What do you think?”

  “I think they got a light ’achine gun there, like you say.”

  Dennis scooted back and turned to sit in the sand. “Yeah. Figgers. They may be stupid, but we can’t count on ’em bein’ nuts. I would’a put machine guns all around the perimeter if I was them and had ’em—which I guess they do. Wish we had grenades!”

  “Look at the bright side,” Horn urged absently, staring at Lawrence. “There shouldn’t be many, if any, light machine guns left on the ship.”

  “I bet there’ll be one,” Silva predicted. “At least one. Right at the top of that brushy gangplank we gotta go up!”

  “Hey!” Horn hissed. “Why so gloomy? I’ve never seen you like this.” He took a breath, realization dawning. “It’s that gal! You’re worried about Lieutenant Cross!”

  “Am not!” Dennis denied. “That’s the stupidest thing you ever said. Besides, even if I was a little partial to her, she’s probably got the easiest job tonight—and she can take care of herself.”