The Texas Front: Salient

by Jonathan Cresswell

  “But that would only determine one axis,” said Vantarsilas. “Unless...”

  “The watercourse may be followed until the signal grows stronger. Precisely, Group Leader. While this method samples less area than a regular grid search, it is much faster per machine. It also differentiates possible sites that are close to watercourses, which may be useful. Arctilantar has speculated that the sedimentary type of rock found near such watercourses should be much softer and more readily mined than the hard volcanic rock we have encountered previously in our region.”

  “Speculated,” said Vantarsilas.

  “Yes. It estimates eighty percent probability. But the process will have to be attempted at a potential mine site to determine fully if it will work.”

  Vantarsilas shifted in unease. “We no longer have enough strength to establish and defend a full holdfast in a new location. The fuel-refining machinery is too valuable to risk without such defenses – how far away from the holdfast would it need to be moved? Further than our previous mining attempts?”

  “It might be many hundreds of telequel. But, Group Leader, the refining does not need to take place at the mine site. Due to the prevalence of element 12 in this world’s atmosphere and rock, element 92 can be chemically linked to element 12 in the initial process of extraction, while separating it from other rock elements such as 14. It is a powerful reaction and requires little energy input with our catalyzing techniques. Once the 92-12 compound is extracted, it is compact enough to transport back to the Holdfast where it can be refined for use as fuel. Raqtinoctil has tested this process with other, more common elements, and it is working.”

  Vantarsilas digested this for a few moments. Taldarnilis tried to gauge whether it would be wise to present Raqtinoctil’s other idea. It was so radical that it could very well shock Vantarsilas into refusing any new practices altogether. Part of it had originated with the goodprey. And it might not even be necessary if a mine site could be located nearby...

  “Using water as a detection medium,” muttered Vantarsilas. “Only on a mad world such as this one could it even be contemplated... Very well!” It shook itself in determination. “There is no time to waste. Have you determined how many machines remain to us that carry detection apparatus?”

  Taldarnilis felt its own approval and excitement echoed on the link. “Four, Group Leader. With six armed machines to escort them, that would allow for two scouting groups. They would proceed to the coast and divide into a group moving north along it, and one moving south. The southern group would require caution in how far they travel due to the large prey concentration two hundred telequel to the south.”

  “And the northern group must halt at our border with Group 32.”

  “Of course,” said Taldarnilis. “Although, if energetic elements are detected within that watercourse, it is arguably worth pursuing as the origin might still be within our territory. After all, Group 32 is heavily engaged with the prey along its eastern borders. Our activity in this region would only be helpful to them by providing a diversion.”

  “That is true,” agreed Vantarsilas. “They must pursue all available possibilities. Our group’s future is at stake. Impress this upon all members of the Race that you command.”

  “Command?”

  “Yes. You will take one of the fighting machines, and lead the overall expedition. Upon division, you will then lead the northern exploration group. Does this please you, Taldarnilis?”

  “It does, Group Leader.” The mental traffic on the link was also blooming with approval, despite the fact that this would be Taldarnilis’ first sally against the prey in one of the fighting machines. While aware of this, it was determined to uphold its peers’ expectations.

  The fortunes of Group 31 were about to be reversed.

  Washington, D.C., October 1911

  Captain Willard Lang stepped up to the marble-tiled landing and paused, waiting for General Funston to catch up. The skylight overhead flooded the stairwell with welcoming light. It was the first welcoming thing he’d encountered in the War and Navy Building; there were hundreds of doors in the enormous structure, and it seemed like every one had been slammed in his face over the past week here in Washington.

  Funston leaned on the rail beside him. He puffed a few breaths and grimaced at Lang. “They’re trying to kill me, you know. Every appointment is on a different floor.”

  “Goddamned staff officers. Can’t trust any of them.”

  Funston’s smile was momentary. “Lang, this may be our last chance to get any further support from Washington. It took six months to get this meeting. Leonard Wood’s a decent man, but he’s under a great deal of pressure from others closer to home than we are. So when we go in there, don’t mention any of our own projects back in Texas – rockets, the LRSC, anything of the sort. I don’t want him to jump to the idea that we’re handling things fine on our own.”

  “Sir, are you asking me to–”

  “I’m telling you to leave the talking to me and supply information when you’re asked to. Alright?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Come on, then.” They proceeded down the hallway and turned in at Wood’s outer office. They were quite early – Funston would leave nothing to chance for this – and Wood’s aide, a close-faced major, had nothing to offer them except a pair of the oak chairs along one side of the room; chairs that Lang’s rump had grown all too familiar with. They warmed them for a time, each mentally rehearsing what he should – or shouldn’t – say. His leg began to ache, as it still tended to do when seated; the burns were only second-degree, but they healed slowly. Then Funston elbowed him in the ribs.

  He looked over and saw the Chief of Staff framed in the outer doorway, frozen halfway through a step. For a moment, Wood looked as though he’d rather turn around and leave, but he managed a smile and continued on into the room. Lang rose along with the general.

  “Good to see you, Freddy! How was your trip?”

  “Not too bad, Leonard, not too bad. More than the usual delays on the trains, though. Good God, but there’s a lot of military traffic on the roads! Mile after mile of tanks and guns. Why in hell can’t some of that be sent my way?”

  Wood grimaced; Lang carefully did not. The general’s idea of subtlety... Wood looked exhausted, and the fresh scar on his forehead must be related to the surgery he’d had the previous year. The fact that no one could replace him despite that meant there was no one else to turn to. “Come into my office and we’ll discuss it. I guess you’ve met my aide, Semancik, here?”

  “Yes, and this is Captain Willard Lang, my aide. He’s been with me since Albuquerque.” Lang shook hands. All three proceeded into Wood’s private office. Semancik poured coffee and then withdrew.

  “So, General, what’s your situation?” asked Wood.

  “I brought a detailed report, but in plain words, my situation stinks. You’ve given me an absolutely impossible task, General!”

  “I know I have, but you’re the best I’ve got, Freddy.”

  “Don’t try to butter me up, Leonard! I learned all about impossible situations when I was a volunteer with the Cuban insurrectionists in ’97. But they had it easy compared to this!” Funston was growing flushed as he spoke; that was a bad sign. “I’ve got nine divisions of regulars and seven more of Texas Volunteers, and you expect me to defend a line two thousand miles long! You’ve got sixty divisions on the Mississippi to defend a line barely half that length!”

  “And you know perfectly well why that is, General,” said Wood.

  “Because Texas doesn’t matter to the stuffed shirts and millionaires back east!”

  “I think it would be more fair to say that the east matters more, not that Texas doesn’t matter at all.”

  “Fair?! Fair!” Funston’s cup clattered onto the saucer; he gestured with a fist. “When the Martians punch through my lines like they were tissue paper—and they will!—what am I supposed to tell my men and the civilians I’m defending? ‘Yes, I know it�
��s not fair, but Washington won’t let me defend you’!”

  “Freddy, calm down. I don’t have to tell you the score. If we lose the east, it’s the whole shooting match. I have to protect the cities and the factories. There’s no choice, damn it!”

  Wood’s voice had risen too. Lang guessed what Funston’s reaction to such an immovable object would be. He jumped in. “We’re well aware of the situation, sir. But unless you look at Texas as just a forlorn hope, we are going to need more equipment. Men we’ve got, but they can’t fight Martians with nothing but rifles. If we can’t be better supplied, perhaps we should acknowledge that – and pull everyone back across the Mississippi rather than risk sacrificing them all.”

  Both senior officers swung to look at him. Lang suddenly knew what a lightning rod felt like in a storm; but it was worth it if it de-escalated things. Funston clenched and opened his fists, taking the opportunity to curb his temper.

  “We are sending you equipment,” growled Wood.

  “But not enough,” countered Funston more calmly. “My regulars don’t have half the artillery and tanks as your troops on the Mississippi, and the volunteers have got virtually nothing heavier than a machine gun. As Lang says, with all the refugees, we could field twice the number of volunteer organizations, but we don’t even have rifles and machine guns for them!”

  Wood nodded. He rubbed at his scar as he spoke. “All right, Freddy, all right. I’ve got two new regular divisions, just completing their organization. I was going to send them to First Army, but I’ll give them to you, instead.”

  “That would be wonderful, Leonard. But it’s still not enough.”

  Wood lifted his hand palm-outward. “I’ll also divert some tanks and artillery your way. There are a dozen train loads heading out to California, but things are still so quiet out there, I’ll send them to you instead.”

  “That’s good. I’ll tell you, I’ve been damn tempted to grab those trains passing west! Hard to see all that equipment and not get any of it.”

  “So far you’ve gotten twice as much as we’ve sent to the west coast. We can’t totally ignore them, you know.”

  “They don’t need as much with all those mountains protecting them. Most of my line is stark naked.”

  “I’m also going to give you another gift. You’ve probably heard that we’re starting production of a small rocket launcher for use by the infantry…”

  “I’ve heard. When can we get some?”

  “I’ll send you the first thousand that come out of the factories, the very first, Freddy. You have top priority.” Lang managed to suppress a grin. That was more like it! The weapons were short-ranged, but packed a lot more punch than anything the infantry had so far. And if the rockets could be made bigger...

  “That’s good,” said Funston grudgingly, “but what we really need is the ability to produce weapons right there in Texas. Can’t anything be done?”

  Lang and the general carefully did not glance at one another as he spoke. Wood shook his head. “Texas doesn’t have the infrastructure for that sort of thing. We can’t just pack up and send you a tank factory, Freddy. Well, we could, but it wouldn’t do you any good because there are no steel mills or foundries there. Texas has cattle and cotton and not a whole lot else.”

  “They’ve got oil.”

  “Yes, some. And I know there’s the potential for a whole lot more, but you can’t build tanks out of oil. It would take years to create the sort of industrial base you’d need. No, we’ll ship the tanks to you. It just makes sense.”

  Funston snorted and frowned. “Well, if that’s the best you can do…”

  “Right now, it is. But, let me tell you about our future plans. The president wants an offensive as soon as possible and…”

  “I bet he does! Everyone does!”

  “Yes. And we are drawing up plans for some very deliberate advances starting next spring. We will move along a few routes, heavily fortifying them as we go to protect our lines of communication. I’m going to urge that one of the routes start out along the Arkansas River. As we advance, we will take over the defense of that part of your line. Your forces can then be redeployed to reinforce other areas. That two-thousand-mile line of yours will shrink and shrink.”

  Funston considered that and then nodded. “That would help. But if the Martians hit us hard somewhere else, we will be in trouble.”

  “I know, I know. But we’ll have to deal with that when it happens. Sorry, Freddy.” Wood rose to his feet slowly, but with a clear air of finality. Funston and Lang stood and shook hands.

  “Thank you for your time, General,” said Funston.

  “Good luck, Freddy.”

  Funston walked quickly out of the office, not even looking at Semancik. Lang pursued and caught up to him at the hallway’s end.

  “Not enough,” growled Funston. He was gripping the landing rail hard enough to mottle his hands. “Not enough.”

  “Sir–”

  “When they come, the line will not hold. We’ll have to give ground, but how much...” He half-turned to Lang. “Well. There will be time enough to plan what we must do. You’d better make sure that we do receive what the general promised... before someone else gets hold of it. Get the details worked out with his aide.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m going for a walk around the block – which should be just about right, given the size of them around here – and then I’ll join you there.” Funston pushed off from the railing and began to descend the stairs.

  Lang watched the small figure disappear down the flight for a moment, then made his way back to Semancik’s office, where he unpacked his satchel and spent a useful hour going over shipment composition and times. Semancik worked efficiently and impersonally, feeding the raw material of war onto railways and rivers, directing it to where it would be consumed. It was easy to believe that he’d played a role in moving a million men to date. To a former platoon commander, the scale was daunting. This truly is a war between worlds, thought Lang. And I thought Texas was big...

  He was just thanking Semancik for his help when Funston returned. The general looked better; the fresh air had agreed with him. He was clutching a newspaper that he’d picked up, and after thanking Semancik in his turn, he waved it at Lang as they walked out of the office. “The New York Philharmonic is in town and Stransky’s conducting. He took over after poor Mahler died. Beethoven’s Symphony Number 5 in C Minor... Smetana, The Bartered Bride, now there’s something exotic. Do you follow classical music, Captain?”

  “Not at all, sir.”

  “We’ve done all we can here. There’s just the meeting tomorrow morning with Harry Ward. I’ll attend the performance tonight.” They left the War and Navy Building and paused outside on the sidewalk. “Care to try it?”

  “How much are the tickets, sir?”

  “Two dollars.”

  “That’s a lot.”

  Funston shrugged. “The prostitutes here would charge you more than that. It’s an expensive town. But what else are you going to spend it on?”

  * * * * *

  The concert venue was packed with well-heeled Washingtonians, although there were plenty of uniforms as well. Lang still felt ill at ease moving through the crowd; many of those uniforms were tailored. But enough people who greeted Funston acknowledged him as well that it would have been boorish to keep aside.

  One swell in an evening coat insisted on a handshake. “It’s an honor to shake hands with a man wearing that.” He nodded to the Distinguished Service Cross on Lang’s dress uniform.

  “Ah. Thanks.” Prendergast had gotten him that; Funston seemed to regard the events of Lang’s rearguard fight last year as ordinary. And compared to some of the things he’d pulled off, perhaps it was...

  The orchestra began making odd noises and they sought their seats. Funston explained a few things while Lang tried to keep up; then the proper music began and he settled in to listen. He was pretty sure that some of the higher notes wer
e escaping him; having a cal fifty fired over one’s head could do that. But the deeper thrum of the big strings was strangely moving.

  He glanced over at Funston, who was listening with his eyes closed. Some of the deep lines scored in his face had smoothed. If the musicians were accomplishing nothing else tonight, that would do... He looked back to the stage and did his best to emulate the general.

  When the performance finished, Funston shook himself and rose. As they eased out of the rows, he asked, “What did you think?”

  “I think,” said Lang – to his own surprise – “that it’s something else to fight for. Can’t imagine Martians creating something that lovely, sir.” And indeed the fancy instruments, the art of it all, seemed less of a luxury than when he’d arrived.

  “Nor can I.”

  “Although if I have to listen to The Stars and Stripes Forever one more time… Do they always end with that?”

  “Always. At least nowadays.”

  As the crowd began to filter out, a large man in a frock coat caught sight of Funston and approached. “Good evening. Do I have the honor of addressing General Funston?”