Authors: Taylor Anderson
Firestorm (12 page)
“Thank you, Minister Tucker,” Shinya said, bowing rather stiffly and casting a triumphant glare at Silva. “Certainly your new escort will behave more . . . responsibly.”
“I’m sure,” said Sandra, dryly. She turned back to Silva. “Now, I may be other things too, but I’m still a naval officer, and
I’m
giving you an order you’d better obey!” She wrinkled her nose. “While your attire may strike you as fashionable, you’re no longer on ‘convalescent leave,’ and it’s time for you to rejoin the Navy! You’ll march directly from this place, down to the Navy Yard supply depot—without passing the compound housing the female immigrants from Respite Island! Nurse Pam Cross does
not
need to hear about shenanigans of that sort. She’s angry enough you’ve been gone so long, pretending to be dead.”
I’m
giving you an order you’d better obey!” She wrinkled her nose. “While your attire may strike you as fashionable, you’re no longer on ‘convalescent leave,’ and it’s time for you to rejoin the Navy! You’ll march directly from this place, down to the Navy Yard supply depot—without passing the compound housing the female immigrants from Respite Island! Nurse Pam Cross does
not
need to hear about shenanigans of that sort. She’s angry enough you’ve been gone so long, pretending to be dead.”
“She don’t own me,” Silva said sulkily. “Besides, even if she did, what’s the harm in lookin’? There’s been few enough female critters—ladies—to oogle. . . .”
“You’ll draw an entire new duffel,” Sandra continued steadfastly. “Hopefully, they can fit you. I don’t know if the Maa-ni-los have ever tried to outfit anyone of your proportions before.”
“Yes’m,” Silva said, apparently conquered at last. His woeful expression was already beginning to fade, however. In its place, his customary, lopsided, somewhat unnerving grin began to reappear. He scratched his faded, crusty eye patch. “You reckon they can replace this thing?”
“I’m sure they will, once they see it, if they have to make one on the spot!” Sandra said, growing a little concerned about the grin, and Silva’s sudden surrender. “Now go!”
Silva saluted sharply, and when all present returned the gesture, he did an about-face, and began striding toward the ferry that would take him across the bay.
“What a horrible man,” Lelaa said fondly, watching him go. “I’ve heard . . . rumors, that Nurse Paam Cross is not the only female who awaits him back home.”
Sandra snorted. “You mean Chack’s sister, Risa-Sab-At?” She shook her head. “There’s no question she and Silva—and Pam!—are great friends. Beyond that, I refuse to speculate. Besides, Risa’s with First Fleet, and too busy to pine away over anyone, I suspect. And she’s not the ‘pining’ sort.” She turned back to Shinya. “Again, Colonel, I’m sorry. Sorry for my rudeness, and sorry you had to deal with Silva. He heard about the ‘promotion’ after the morning wireless traffic—I don’t know how. Scuttlebutt, I suppose. Anyway, he just . . . panicked, I guess. Somehow, he got the idea you recommended him.”
“Well . . .” Shinya hesitated. “I suppose I did. Mr. Silva and I have rarely seen eye to eye in the past, but he’s a magnificent warrior. I thought, particularly after his recent exploits on your behalf, that we need such warriors in leadership positions.” He gestured at the parade ground. The officers had long since stopped gawking, and the NCOs had never allowed the enlisted troops to start. “We have new weapons, new tactics, and new troops who’ve not been tested.” He shrugged. “I’d hoped to persuade him to take a company of Marines.”
“You do him great honor, Colonel Shinya,” Sandra said seriously, “and though I suppose he deserves it, take my word; Dennis Silva should
never
become an officer. It would ruin him.” She took a long breath. “It might ruin all of us, in the end.” She paused, staring back over the throng of troops, ignoring Shinya’s curious expression. “With that issue settled, I’ll turn to the other thing I came to see you about. You have orders as well—of a sort. Captain Reddy specifically asked me to deliver them, and get your honest appraisal.”
never
become an officer. It would ruin him.” She took a long breath. “It might ruin all of us, in the end.” She paused, staring back over the throng of troops, ignoring Shinya’s curious expression. “With that issue settled, I’ll turn to the other thing I came to see you about. You have orders as well—of a sort. Captain Reddy specifically asked me to deliver them, and get your honest appraisal.”
“Of course.”
“As you know, we have a whole new war on our hands. We can’t let up on the Grik, but we must help Captain Reddy and our new Imperial allies. I’ll be departing aboard
Maaka-Kakja
, and there’ll be plenty of green sailors aboard.” She smiled at Lelaa. “For example, Lelaa will command, and she’s never even conned a steamship! Her aircrews have only just learned to fly, and she’ll be working up her wing en route. My question to you is, in your honest opinion, how many troops can we send with her, and are you free to lead them?”
Maaka-Kakja
, and there’ll be plenty of green sailors aboard.” She smiled at Lelaa. “For example, Lelaa will command, and she’s never even conned a steamship! Her aircrews have only just learned to fly, and she’ll be working up her wing en route. My question to you is, in your honest opinion, how many troops can we send with her, and are you free to lead them?”
Shinya concentrated. “Most of my best troops are still involved in search and rescue activities, in response to the effects of the tsunami. Even if I could send them now, ‘best’ is a relative term.” He waved at a regiment of Maa-ni-los rapidly moving from a column into line. “Their drill is good, their execution almost flawless, but only a very few of the NCOs have ever seen action; some were volunteers at Baalkpan, you’ll recall. You asked my honest appraisal, and I must say I hesitate to send
any
of these troops to Captain Reddy. He’s grown accustomed to leading veteran soldiers.” He paused. “Regardless. He wants Marines, I understand, but their amphibious training is not yet complete. Perhaps two of the Fil-pin regiments might be up to the task. Of course,” he added wistfully, “much as I’d like to, I lead them.” He hesitated. “Honestly, I’d prefer that we had time to draw some force from General Alden, then plug these regiments into his larger force as originally planned.”
any
of these troops to Captain Reddy. He’s grown accustomed to leading veteran soldiers.” He paused. “Regardless. He wants Marines, I understand, but their amphibious training is not yet complete. Perhaps two of the Fil-pin regiments might be up to the task. Of course,” he added wistfully, “much as I’d like to, I lead them.” He hesitated. “Honestly, I’d prefer that we had time to draw some force from General Alden, then plug these regiments into his larger force as originally planned.”
“Colonel Shinya, Matt currently has less than
thirty
effective Marines. More may still recover from wounds, but he needs troops—
our troops
—rather badly right now. He said the Imperial Marines fight well, but our tactics are superior—the tactics you’re teaching here. For Chack, or even Matt to have a real say regarding Imperial land tactics, he must have a credible force. Even if the Imperials are inclined to listen to Chack—and Matt thinks they are—he needs more than thirty instructors!” She paused. “Tell me, Colonel: are these troops more or less as well trained as those who met and defeated the Grik at Baalkpan?”
thirty
effective Marines. More may still recover from wounds, but he needs troops—
our troops
—rather badly right now. He said the Imperial Marines fight well, but our tactics are superior—the tactics you’re teaching here. For Chack, or even Matt to have a real say regarding Imperial land tactics, he must have a credible force. Even if the Imperials are inclined to listen to Chack—and Matt thinks they are—he needs more than thirty instructors!” She paused. “Tell me, Colonel: are these troops more or less as well trained as those who met and defeated the Grik at Baalkpan?”
“More. Much more—with one glaring exception.”
“Yes. Combat experience. But how many had that at Baalkpan? A quarter? A third at most?” She shook her head. “How much combat experience did
you
have the first time you went into combat? Look, I get it. These are your troops, and for all practical purposes, this is your army. You formed it, trained it like a child, and you love it, don’t you?” Shinya didn’t respond, but Sandra knew she was right. “You’ve done a good job. You’ve set the wheels in motion and established a sound regimen here.” She gestured back at the parade ground. “These ’Cats, these Lemurians, don’t really much need us anymore, you know. Sure, we showed them the way, but as far as the basics are concerned, there’s not much left to teach them. They’re building and flying airplanes, operating steamships, building muskets, and sending Morse! Now that the various industries are starting to hit their stride, they’re even improving on designs we’ve given them.” She took a breath. “They’re also fighting their own battles now.” Her voice softened. “Colonel . . . Tamatsu . . . most of these troops will soon be going west, to First Fleet and General Alden. He’ll take good care of them—and they don’t need you anymore. Training will continue here just as well without you. You’ve said yourself that things around here pretty much run themselves. Captain Reddy—Matt—
does
need you, and so will the troops you need to lead east to his assistance!”
you
have the first time you went into combat? Look, I get it. These are your troops, and for all practical purposes, this is your army. You formed it, trained it like a child, and you love it, don’t you?” Shinya didn’t respond, but Sandra knew she was right. “You’ve done a good job. You’ve set the wheels in motion and established a sound regimen here.” She gestured back at the parade ground. “These ’Cats, these Lemurians, don’t really much need us anymore, you know. Sure, we showed them the way, but as far as the basics are concerned, there’s not much left to teach them. They’re building and flying airplanes, operating steamships, building muskets, and sending Morse! Now that the various industries are starting to hit their stride, they’re even improving on designs we’ve given them.” She took a breath. “They’re also fighting their own battles now.” Her voice softened. “Colonel . . . Tamatsu . . . most of these troops will soon be going west, to First Fleet and General Alden. He’ll take good care of them—and they don’t need you anymore. Training will continue here just as well without you. You’ve said yourself that things around here pretty much run themselves. Captain Reddy—Matt—
does
need you, and so will the troops you need to lead east to his assistance!”
Shinya suddenly brightened. “Perhaps you’re right,” he allowed. “You
are
right! It would seem I’ve been wrong about everything today!” He shook his head. “It’s this constant training,” he said. “Each day is the same for me, while far away, my friends continue the struggle. I’ve been away too long, and it’s almost ruined me!” His expression became concerned. “It might have ruined these fine troops if I’d continued to delay their deployment.” He looked at Sandra. “Thank you. Forgive me, but . . . how did a nurse ever become so wise in the ways of war . . . and men?”
are
right! It would seem I’ve been wrong about everything today!” He shook his head. “It’s this constant training,” he said. “Each day is the same for me, while far away, my friends continue the struggle. I’ve been away too long, and it’s almost ruined me!” His expression became concerned. “It might have ruined these fine troops if I’d continued to delay their deployment.” He looked at Sandra. “Thank you. Forgive me, but . . . how did a nurse ever become so wise in the ways of war . . . and men?”
“You mean how does a
girl
know these things?” Lelaa asked before Sandra could answer. “That’s easy. All girls know. ’Cat girls or Hu-maan. Males are all the same.” She glared at Irvin Laumer. “We girls fight because we have to. Males too, maybe, but girls get sick, wounded, have younglings; they go home and forget the war until they maybe have to fight again. You take males out of the war and it eats them from the inside out, like a nugli woodworm, as long as others still fight! Back before the Grik came, before we had this war, I knew males were silly. Now I know they’re all a buncha’ dopes!” She laughed, and Sandra—and even Laumer—joined her.
girl
know these things?” Lelaa asked before Sandra could answer. “That’s easy. All girls know. ’Cat girls or Hu-maan. Males are all the same.” She glared at Irvin Laumer. “We girls fight because we have to. Males too, maybe, but girls get sick, wounded, have younglings; they go home and forget the war until they maybe have to fight again. You take males out of the war and it eats them from the inside out, like a nugli woodworm, as long as others still fight! Back before the Grik came, before we had this war, I knew males were silly. Now I know they’re all a buncha’ dopes!” She laughed, and Sandra—and even Laumer—joined her.
Lawrence sniffed. “I a ’ale, and no ‘nuglis’ eat Lawrence!”
“Nonsense!” Irvin . Yotill chuckling. “Look at you! You’re in uniform now!”
It was true. Lawrence had been “with” the Alliance for quite a while, primarily as Princess Rebecca’s friend and protector. He’d even gained respect and notoriety despite his resemblance to the Grik “Ancient Enemy.” It was becoming increasingly recognized that not all “Grik-like” creatures on the world—far more widespread than previously known—
were
Grik, and many races that resembled them had wildly different societies. Lawrence’s own people, from an island they called Tagran, had some rather bizarre cultural practices concerning their young—by human or Lemurian standards—and the matriarchal system they practiced was rather extreme as well. In fact, the recent tidal wave caused by the catastrophic explosion of the volcanic Talaud island had so devastated Tagran that the matriarch had banished all but a handful of the island’s population so a few might survive the starving times to come. Of the hundreds set adrift to find another home or die, only seventy-odd survived the later waves that overwhelmed the southern Fil-pin Lands. They’d been rescued with Sandra, Silva, and the others by the remnants of Task Force Laumer and the battered S-19.
were
Grik, and many races that resembled them had wildly different societies. Lawrence’s own people, from an island they called Tagran, had some rather bizarre cultural practices concerning their young—by human or Lemurian standards—and the matriarchal system they practiced was rather extreme as well. In fact, the recent tidal wave caused by the catastrophic explosion of the volcanic Talaud island had so devastated Tagran that the matriarch had banished all but a handful of the island’s population so a few might survive the starving times to come. Of the hundreds set adrift to find another home or die, only seventy-odd survived the later waves that overwhelmed the southern Fil-pin Lands. They’d been rescued with Sandra, Silva, and the others by the remnants of Task Force Laumer and the battered S-19.
High Chief Saan-Kakja gifted the “ex”-Tagranesi with the virtually uninhabited Fil-pin island of Samaar to possess as a Fil-pin territory—as Fil-pin subjects. There’d be no independent matriarchy of such a despotic sort as to condemn so many of its own people neighboring
her
Home! This was a complete departure from any previous Lemurian customs, except for a few now-extinct cultures that had inhabited Jaava. Before, all “daughter” colonies, like their seagoing Home counterparts, were independent. The Tagranesi—“Sa’aarans” now—could have the land if they could conquer it, but Saan-Kakja was their sovereign. Sandra wondered if Saan-Kakja, with the Imperial example, was taking a step toward empire herself, but she rather doubted it. More likely, she merely intended to keep a closer eye on
this
daughter colony than others in the past, simply due to the nature of its inhabitants. That was understandable.
her
Home! This was a complete departure from any previous Lemurian customs, except for a few now-extinct cultures that had inhabited Jaava. Before, all “daughter” colonies, like their seagoing Home counterparts, were independent. The Tagranesi—“Sa’aarans” now—could have the land if they could conquer it, but Saan-Kakja was their sovereign. Sandra wondered if Saan-Kakja, with the Imperial example, was taking a step toward empire herself, but she rather doubted it. More likely, she merely intended to keep a closer eye on
this
daughter colony than others in the past, simply due to the nature of its inhabitants. That was understandable.
Ancient Chinakru, leader of the Sa’aarans, and governor of the new colony, wasn’t offended. Saan-Kakja had become a surrogate matriarch in the eyes of his people to an almost-worshipful degree. He’d immedi- ately proclaimed all his people subject to her military service and command. Saan-Kakja knew the Sa’aarans couldn’t fight a war and build a colony at the same time, but agreed to accept four, including Lawrence, as a token force. They had no military training, but like Lawrence, they were innately, possibly instinctively skilled at fieldcraft. They’d become army scouts, and their “uniform,” like Lawrence’s, was a modified version of that worn by the Fil-pin regiments, altered to fit their different shapes. The leather armor was dyed in a camouflage pattern, and gray kilts had been tightly twisted and redyed in green. The result was near invisibility for the otherwise brown-and-orange-striped Sa’aarans when they melted into the woods. The three other Sa’araan warriors were preparing to leave for Baalkpan, in fact, to participate in an “expedition of discovery” led by Abel Cook and an old Lemurian hunter called “Moe.” Cook was a protégé of Courtney Bradford’s, and the mission was a long-delayed effort to find—and hopefully peacefully contact—some feral Grik-like creatures known to roam the dense jungles of north Borno.
“I in uni’orn,” Lawrence agreed. (He could understand Lemurian or “American” quite well, but there were some sounds he simply couldn’t form.) “I go where I sent, I kill who I told, ’ut no nuglis eat I when I here, where ’riends are!”
“Well said!” complimented aa. “There’s plenty of war to go around, for all of us. There’s no point in longing for it when it is far away.”
“True,” Sandra agreed, “but even I’m a little anxious to get underway—the better to
keep
the war as far from here as possible.”
keep
the war as far from here as possible.”
“I know why you’re anxious,” Lelaa proclaimed, “and it has nothing to do with war! Tell me, now there are human females, ‘women,’ coming here from the east, are you going to finally mate . . . ‘marry’ with Captain Reddy and stop torturing each other, yourselves, and everyone around you?”
Sandra blushed visibly, even through her tan. “That, Captain Lelaa, is privileged, ‘secret’ information. While I may allow that you have a ‘need to know,’ for various reasons”—she straightened and stuck out her chin—“this gossipy, tale-bearing pack of pubescent males surrounding us, does not.”
Irvin chuckled, and even Shinya smiled. Lawrence glowered as best he could. Of them all, he truly was a—rapidly and visibly maturing—“teenager,” and he took the jest a little more personally than the others.
“As we speak, USS
Maaka-Kakja
is being loaded and provisioned for her voyage,” Lelaa said. “Her sea trials were necessarily brief”—she blinked embarrassment at Laumer—“but the very . . . awkwardness of those trials should have revealed any major flaws.” It was Irvin’s turn to blush. No decision had yet been taken as to what to do with the old S-boat he’d raised from the dead. She might be broken up for her priceless steel and other components; her diesels, electric motors; the list was endless. He was against it and hoped she might eventually be returned to duty as a submarine—despite the added hazards lurking in this world’s seas. For the time being, she’d be stabilized and towed to Baalkpan before any decision was made, and that released Irvin Laumer to serve as Lelaa’s exec, or “salig-maastir” since he did understand the fundamentals of maneuvering a ship—albeit a much smaller one—under power. Lelaa would continue to teach him the consummate seamanship she’d learned from a lifetime on the waves, while he taught her how to operate a ship without sails. Saan-Kakja admired them both and thought they’d make a good team.
Maaka-Kakja
is being loaded and provisioned for her voyage,” Lelaa said. “Her sea trials were necessarily brief”—she blinked embarrassment at Laumer—“but the very . . . awkwardness of those trials should have revealed any major flaws.” It was Irvin’s turn to blush. No decision had yet been taken as to what to do with the old S-boat he’d raised from the dead. She might be broken up for her priceless steel and other components; her diesels, electric motors; the list was endless. He was against it and hoped she might eventually be returned to duty as a submarine—despite the added hazards lurking in this world’s seas. For the time being, she’d be stabilized and towed to Baalkpan before any decision was made, and that released Irvin Laumer to serve as Lelaa’s exec, or “salig-maastir” since he did understand the fundamentals of maneuvering a ship—albeit a much smaller one—under power. Lelaa would continue to teach him the consummate seamanship she’d learned from a lifetime on the waves, while he taught her how to operate a ship without sails. Saan-Kakja admired them both and thought they’d make a good team.
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