Authors: Taylor Anderson
Firestorm (42 page)
Despite Lieutenant Blas-Ma-Ar’s best attempts to stop him, Chack went in with the rest of them. He never fired the old Krag; the ammunition in its magazine was the “real stuff,” not the hard-cast black powder reloads. It was precious for its long-range accuracy and utter reliability, despite its age. He went in with the bayonet just like
his
Marines and fought with a savagery that frankly unnerved a few Imperials, and an economical proficiency and precision that came only with the hard experience he’d gained. Through it all, his diminutive
female
lieutenant and apparently self-appointed “protector” fought alongside him with similar competence and equal vigor. That would later unnerve some of Chack’s Imperials even more, when they had time to reflect on various things, such as their own attitude toward women—and the kind of combat that had taught Chack and Blas, and all the Lemurians, their skill. But more than that, if there’d been present any Imperial Marines who, despite the reputation Chack had gained at the Dueling Grounds, still clung to any concern or discontented notion that they were commanded by an “ape” or “wog,” it vanished in the swirling smoke and bloody ground north of Waterford, New Ireland, that day.
his
Marines and fought with a savagery that frankly unnerved a few Imperials, and an economical proficiency and precision that came only with the hard experience he’d gained. Through it all, his diminutive
female
lieutenant and apparently self-appointed “protector” fought alongside him with similar competence and equal vigor. That would later unnerve some of Chack’s Imperials even more, when they had time to reflect on various things, such as their own attitude toward women—and the kind of combat that had taught Chack and Blas, and all the Lemurians, their skill. But more than that, if there’d been present any Imperial Marines who, despite the reputation Chack had gained at the Dueling Grounds, still clung to any concern or discontented notion that they were commanded by an “ape” or “wog,” it vanished in the swirling smoke and bloody ground north of Waterford, New Ireland, that day.
The sky was purple, with long bloody streaks, when Major Blair found Chack in a large Dominion tent that was spared the firestorm that engulfed most of the enemy encampment when the mortars turned their wrath there. As always, Lieutenant Blas-Ma-Ar stood beside the brindled Lemurian while he sat on a bench, his furry tso bare, stoically enduring the stitches “Doc-Selass-Fris-Ar” applied to the dark, shaved skin over his left shoulder blade. Other wounded were in the tent, being tended by more “corps-’Cats” as even they’d begun calling themselves, and Chack seemed annoyed that Selass was bothering with him when others needed her attention more. In the middle distance, at the south edge of town, mortars still burst with their distinctive crackling thuds, and all the artillery of
two
divisions now thundered continuously, pulverizing the final works of the enemy along the shore of Lake Shannon.
two
divisions now thundered continuously, pulverizing the final works of the enemy along the shore of Lake Shannon.
“I’m heartily glad to find you in one piece, my friend,” Blair said with a touch of reproach. “Or at least fit to be sewn back into one,” he added.
Chack snorted. “You chastise me, when you creep along like a freshly hatched grawfish in the mud!” Chack pointed at Blair’s leg. “You still limp from the wound you had at the Dueling Grounds! You hid that before.”
Blair chuckled and patted his leg. “Actually, this is new. Courtesy of a Dom musket butt.” He shrugged. “Perhaps not entirely new, then. The bugger hit me in the same blasted spot!”
“Do you need someone to look at it?” Selass snapped, her large eyes flashing.
Blair was taken aback, and wondered why she was so angry. Then it hit him. He suddenly remembered the rumors that she and Chack had a “history” of some sort; a history perhaps aggravated by her proximity, continued devotion, and Chack’s betrothal to the distant “General” Safir Maraan.
“Um, no, not at all. It’s just a slight ache.”
“Then, as soon as I’m finished with this foolish person, you can take him off somewhere where he can hurt himself yet again—and I can resume treating others!”
“I just came here to check on the wounded. I never asked . . .” Chack began.
“Be silent!” Selass ordered. “If you speak again . . . I will sew your arms together behind your back!”
Chack said nothing more until Selass clipped the thread and daubed the wound with the purplish polta paste that would prevent infection. Even then, he didn’t speak while he snatched his bloody armor from a hook and gathered his weapons. Only once he, Blas, and Blair were outside the tent and among his and Blair’s waiting staffs—and the horses!—did he mutter, “I have always been respectful to that . . . spiky female. I can’t imagine why she hates me so.” Blas turned her head to hide the blinking she couldn’t stop, but her tail twitched erratically. “What?” Chack demanded angrily.
“Nothing, Major,” Blas replied, hiding her eyes under the rim of her helmet. “I’m just a lowly Marine. Selass-Fris-Ar is almost royalty, as our Imperial allies reckon such things. Her father is the great Keje-Fris-Ar, High Chief of
Salissa
Home, and ahd-mi-raal of First Fleet! Who am I to grasp the thoughts of one such as she?”
Salissa
Home, and ahd-mi-raal of First Fleet! Who am I to grasp the thoughts of one such as she?”
Chack growled with frustration, but went to his horse and patted the animal affectionately. He turned to Blair. “Come, it is time to finish this. The enemy here cannot escape and can no longer harm us.” He remembered the sincere, confused sentiments of an Imperial lieutenant he’d last seen lying facedown in the bloody mud at the bottom of a Dom trench. “Perhaps we
are
doing murder now,” he murmured, swinging stiffly into the saddle. Then his voice grew louder. “We must at least offer them surrender.”
are
doing murder now,” he murmured, swinging stiffly into the saddle. Then his voice grew louder. “We must at least offer them surrender.”
“
Pity
for the enemy?” Blair asked strangely as ffethe others mounted as well. “This from the hero of the Dueling Grounds who was physically
dragged
from the fighting?”
Pity
for the enemy?” Blair asked strangely as ffethe others mounted as well. “This from the hero of the Dueling Grounds who was physically
dragged
from the fighting?”
Chack sighed. “Of course I pity them. Hard as it may be to remember at times, the Doms
are
people. They’re not born evil. They
do
evil because they’re taught to, forced to,
bred
to. . . .” Suddenly, Chack felt heat at the back of his neck, coursing into his head—along with a staggering revelation. “
Bred
to evil,” he said again, a picture of Lawrence, cheerfully—and relentlessly—guarding Princess Rebecca from any possible harm springing to his mind. Lawrence wasn’t Grik . . . but he was as much
like
them as Imperials were to Doms—or the remnants of the New Britain Company. Lawrence was no more different from the Grik than the evil Rasik-Alcas had been from Lord Rolak, his beloved Safir, or all the
good
People he knew. “Maker above,” he whispered, “let us hurry and see if the enemy will
let
us save them.”
are
people. They’re not born evil. They
do
evil because they’re taught to, forced to,
bred
to. . . .” Suddenly, Chack felt heat at the back of his neck, coursing into his head—along with a staggering revelation. “
Bred
to evil,” he said again, a picture of Lawrence, cheerfully—and relentlessly—guarding Princess Rebecca from any possible harm springing to his mind. Lawrence wasn’t Grik . . . but he was as much
like
them as Imperials were to Doms—or the remnants of the New Britain Company. Lawrence was no more different from the Grik than the evil Rasik-Alcas had been from Lord Rolak, his beloved Safir, or all the
good
People he knew. “Maker above,” he whispered, “let us hurry and see if the enemy will
let
us save them.”
“Very well,” agreed Blair. “We must deal with them at any rate, and the less ammunition we expend, the better. The bulk of the enemy still infests New Dublin, across the Sperrin range. We must quickly prepare to threaten them there if the rest of the plan is to succeed—and every mortar bomb, roundshot, and musket ball we fire, not to mention the food to sustain us, must be brought over the Wiklow range from Cork, or all the way down the Waterford road from Bray.”
The group started down the central avenue of the mostly undamaged town, moving through groups of people whose reactions to seeing them ranged from exuberant joy to resentful silence, depending on whom they’d supported. The latter were few, at least they appeared to be, and there were cheers when they reached the city center, already guarded by Marines, and Chack ordered the Company flag, the virtual banner of New Ireland, cut down from the pole in front of the Director’s mansion. After that, he and the rest of his entourage rode purposefully on, toward the sound of the guns.
CHAPTER 15
USS
Maaka-Kakja
Southwest of New Wales
Maaka-Kakja
Southwest of New Wales
C
aptain Lelaa-Tal-Cleraan angrily slapped the message form against her left hand, and Sandra Tucker looked at her with concern. She and Princess Rebecca, as well as several other
Maaka-Kakja
officers, had gathered on the bridge, forward of the comm shack to catch the latest news.
aptain Lelaa-Tal-Cleraan angrily slapped the message form against her left hand, and Sandra Tucker looked at her with concern. She and Princess Rebecca, as well as several other
Maaka-Kakja
officers, had gathered on the bridge, forward of the comm shack to catch the latest news.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. . . . The issue on New Ireland grows more confusing by the hour!” She jerked her head to the side. “What seemed well in hand and going according to plan has apparently spun into the ‘pot,’ I fear.”
“What’s up?” asked Irvin Laumer.
“Yes, please tell us!” pleaded the princess.
“Yess! Goddamn!” echoed Petey—more crassly—peering around Rebecca’s head from his perch on her back. Nobody paid his outbursts any attention anymore.
Lelaa glanced at the anxious group, all of whom she cared a great deal about.
“Majors Chack and Blair have reached their mountain pass objective and hold a good position on the ridge south of New Dublin. Sor-Lomaak and
Salaama-Na
, flagship of the bombardment element, heaps satisfactory abuse on the harbor defenses.... That much remains according to projections. But those defenses have not weakened in response to Chack’s presence in their rear—and Dominion forces continue to sprout in . . . unexpected places. Apparently, there were far more troops at Belfast and Easky than ever expected, and they’ve counterattacked. The beachhead at Bray has been overrun, and the one at Cork is sorely pressed. An army—presumably the same that recaptured Bray, now marches south toward Waterford and threatens Chack’s rear!” She sighed. “And now
Salaama-Na
begins to run short of ammunition—far in advance of the more intense covering bombardment that was planned.”
Salaama-Na
, flagship of the bombardment element, heaps satisfactory abuse on the harbor defenses.... That much remains according to projections. But those defenses have not weakened in response to Chack’s presence in their rear—and Dominion forces continue to sprout in . . . unexpected places. Apparently, there were far more troops at Belfast and Easky than ever expected, and they’ve counterattacked. The beachhead at Bray has been overrun, and the one at Cork is sorely pressed. An army—presumably the same that recaptured Bray, now marches south toward Waterford and threatens Chack’s rear!” She sighed. “And now
Salaama-Na
begins to run short of ammunition—far in advance of the more intense covering bombardment that was planned.”
“One would almost suspect that the enemy is as well versed on Major Chack’s plan as we are,” Brassey observed quietly.
“Indeed,” agreed Lelaa.
“Somebody in the Imperial command must’ve squealed,” Irvin snarled. “That’s the only answer. They had to know what our guys meant to do before they even did it. How else would they know to place troops just so, and keep them quiet until the right—worst—time?”
“And where are they all coming from?” Sandra demanded. “The troops that took refuge there after the battle for New Scotland might account for the numbers Chack reported facing, but not many more than that. . . . There
had
to be more already there, or they’re still coming from somewhere else nearby!”
had
to be more already there, or they’re still coming from somewhere else nearby!”
“But where?” Lelaa murmured. She stepped to the chart table and peered down at it. Most Lemurians still called the charts “scrolls” even though those used by the Navy had none of the religious, cultural, or historic passages recorded by the prophet, Siska-Ta. It didn’t matter. The term was almost interchangeable in the Lemurian-English patois that had begun to evolve—and Siska-Ta had never drawn scrolls of this region, anyway. Lelaa gauged the distance to New Ireland. They were just close enough to launch an air attack on New Dublin, but the planes would never make it back. They
could
set down at New Glasgow on New Scotland, however, and if “Oil Can” prepositioned fuel there as they were supposed to . . .
could
set down at New Glasgow on New Scotland, however, and if “Oil Can” prepositioned fuel there as they were supposed to . . .
“Pass the word for Lieutenant Reddy and Colonel Shinya,” Lelaa said. “Reddy is COFO, for all practical purposes, though he’s only once now flown a ‘Naancy.’ He’s formed and organized the wing even better than I expected. No doubt . . . different from the way Colonel Mallory or Captain Tikker would have it, but the inexperienced chaos is at an end. I’ll see what he has to say. As for Colonel Shinya . . . it seems we will need to land his troops. I would like his views on that.”
Shinya and Orrin Reddy joined the group—with Dennis Silva and “Larry the Lizard.” Lawrence apparently suspected something was up, because he came dressed in his Sa’aaran battle kit, to everyone’s surprise. Oddly, Orrin and Silva had grown close over the weeks. That probably had to do with Orrin’s youth and exuberance as much as anything. He was built much like his cousin, and though he’d begun to “put some meat back on his bones” after his ordeal, he’d never be a physical match for Silva. But his and Silva’s personalities complemented each other, and Silva’s fondness for his captain seemed to have extended to the man’s younger cousin to a degree. “Maniacal giant meets fearless fighter jock,” Sandra had commented.
Lelaa greeted them all but first turned to Orrin. “Lieutenant,” she said, “please determine whether there actually
is
fuel, as well as sufficient facilities at New Glasgow to service our aircraft. If so, I have two missions for the Fourth Naval Air Wing. We’ll immediately send the Ninth and Eleventh Bomb Squadrons to attack Dominion positions on New Ireland. They’ll rearm and refuel for subsequent sorties at New Glasgow.”
is
fuel, as well as sufficient facilities at New Glasgow to service our aircraft. If so, I have two missions for the Fourth Naval Air Wing. We’ll immediately send the Ninth and Eleventh Bomb Squadrons to attack Dominion positions on New Ireland. They’ll rearm and refuel for subsequent sorties at New Glasgow.”
“What about the Twelfth?” Orrin asked.
“It remains here in reserve, as will the Tenth Pursuit. I want the Seventh Pursuit to scout the sea between New Wales and New Ireland”—she peered closer at the chart—“this Saint George’s Channel, and determine if any enemy forces linger beyond our fleets. The Seventh will then proceed north of New Ireland, overfly the defenses at New Dublin, and determine the disposition of the enemy before also proceeding to New Glasgow. The pursuit ships will carry no bombs, so range should not be an issue.”
“What targets for the bombers?”
Lelaa pointed. “The Ninth will overfly Belfast and Bray before turn- ing southeast toward Waaterford. Its objective is to destroy enemy concentrations along that route, but to focus efforts closer to Waaterford if necessary.” She huffed in exasperation. “We just don’t know what’s
there
! There is no direct communication with the interior! Regardless, the Ninth should have the fuel to backtrack and hit any major concentrations they spot along the way if Waaterford remains secure.”
there
! There is no direct communication with the interior! Regardless, the Ninth should have the fuel to backtrack and hit any major concentrations they spot along the way if Waaterford remains secure.”
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