Authors: Taylor Anderson
Firestorm (53 page)
“Reports are just now coming in from her HQ,” Alan said, reading a dripping message form passed to him by an aide. “Oh crap. They nearly got sucked into an ambush . . . here,” he said, stepping to a damp map laid out on a table under the dripping canvas above. “In this pass, or valley—whatever it is. Pretty high. Anyway, somebody must’ve smelled a rat, because the first two regiments, the Amalgamated and the Ninth Aryaal, deployed about the time the recon flight got hammered. The combination of those two things must’ve tripped the trap the Grik must’ve hoped would catch the whole division, maybe the whole corps.” His brows arched. “Lucky. Anyway, those two regiments pulled back and formed with others behind them to create a division-size front across the valley, with fairly secure flanks. General—Queen—Maraan’s moving up now to support what’s shaping into a knock-down drag-out.”
“Enemy numbers?”
“Best guess is twenty-five to thirty thousand. You know how it is—it’s not as if you can count ’em when they’re all gaggled up.” Alan watched Pete’s expression morph from shock and horror to concern, and finally, tentative confidence. They’d faced worse odds before; II Corps apparently had a good position, and nearly all its eight thousand troops carried muskets with bayonets. Some had rifles. It would be a hell of a fight, one for the books, but the Corps should survive.
Pete swore and stared hard at the map. “Okay, I can see that . . . but why? And where’d the bastards come from? I mean, recon this morning showed about as many Grik in front of us as would be there if those attacking Second Corps had come down. Hell, our spotters
saw
them come down!”
saw
them come down!”
“ ‘Why’ is obvious, General,” Lord Rolak grumbled, his old eyes also exploring the map. “To strike a decisive blow. Their attacks on us have delayed our advance but have nearly bled out the forces opposing us . . . and still we advance. Their ‘straa-ti-gees’ have changed, even improved in terms of maneuver, but the ‘taac-tics’ remain much the same. They cannot cope with our training, discipline, and modern weapons in an open-field contest.” He blinked a Lemurian shrug and added a human one for emphasis. “They try something different . . . significant in itself, hoping we’ll grind to a halt and lick our wounds—further delay our push on Colombo. They fight for
time
, and that’s another . . .
straa-ti-gee
I would never have credited them with.”
time
, and that’s another . . .
straa-ti-gee
I would never have credited them with.”
“That
is
significant . . . if true, and I’m inclined to agree it is. Damn. I
hate
smart Grik!”
is
significant . . . if true, and I’m inclined to agree it is. Damn. I
hate
smart Grik!”
“Perhaps
too
smart for their own good,” Alan med.
too
smart for their own good,” Alan med.
“What?”
“Okay. I’m just a supply guy, remember, but if we’re right about
why
, then we have to figure
how
. Our planes combed this joint from top to bottom, and we’ve had a good idea where all their major troop concentrations are, or where they were headed, for a while. As of right now, all they have unengaged is a really big wad up north around that land bridge that splits Palk Bay from the Mannar Gulf, see? I’d bet my last Navy pencil they don’t have what it takes to pull what they did today against Second Corps—and still keep what they’ve got in front of
us
.”
why
, then we have to figure
how
. Our planes combed this joint from top to bottom, and we’ve had a good idea where all their major troop concentrations are, or where they were headed, for a while. As of right now, all they have unengaged is a really big wad up north around that land bridge that splits Palk Bay from the Mannar Gulf, see? I’d bet my last Navy pencil they don’t have what it takes to pull what they did today against Second Corps—and still keep what they’ve got in front of
us
.”
“But it is there!” General Taa-leen interrupted. “The fliers watch constantly. They bomb! They see!”
“Maybe they see what the enemy wants them to,” Alan said softly. “Throughout our advance, we’ve only ever seen a few ‘civilian’ Grik—besides those . . .” He shuddered and took a breath. He
hated
the young, feral Grik. A pack had ganged up on him while he was alone at night, using the latrine! Only his 1911 had saved him from a terrible and ignominious end. “Those Griklets,” he said, finishing the thought. “But we know they exist. They’ve either been rounded up and herded before us, or refugee’d out on their own. Anyway, where are they?”
hated
the young, feral Grik. A pack had ganged up on him while he was alone at night, using the latrine! Only his 1911 had saved him from a terrible and ignominious end. “Those Griklets,” he said, finishing the thought. “But we know they exist. They’ve either been rounded up and herded before us, or refugee’d out on their own. Anyway, where are they?”
“You think whoever this sneaky Grik commander is, has dumped them in with his warriors facing us, to swell their apparent numbers?”
“I do.”
“I’ll be damned,” Pete said, staring at his friend. “You really do!”
“I said so, didn’t I?”
“Rolak?”
The old Lemurian warrior stared out at the Marines surrounding the tent. The rain was passing and the sun already glared down.
“I have to agree with Mr. Letts. His reasoning is sound, particularly in light of what has transpired today. It would seem the enemy commander
is
clever, and that bodes ill for the future, but fortunately for us here, now, his army cannot match him. I believe we have a grand opportunity.”
is
clever, and that bodes ill for the future, but fortunately for us here, now, his army cannot match him. I believe we have a grand opportunity.”
Pete grunted. “Yeah . . . I hate it for more reasons than I care to name, but I guess it does make sense. God help us if we’re wrong.”
“God help us if we’re
right
, in the long haul,” Letts said. “They’ve always had us outnumbered, but our noodles gave us an edge—even if we’re making up most of what we do as we go. Cancel that advantage and . . .” He shook his head.
right
, in the long haul,” Letts said. “They’ve always had us outnumbered, but our noodles gave us an edge—even if we’re making up most of what we do as we go. Cancel that advantage and . . .” He shook his head.
Pete glanced at the wide-eyed aide who’d brought the message. “Send to Admiral Keje,” he said. “Request the whole damn fleet move up and start hammering Colombo. All air to focus on the Grik formations in front of us and in the city; firebomb the hell out of them! Hold back enough to assist Second Corps in the valley, if requested, but remind them there’re some scary plane-swatting weapons there. Maybe in front of us too.” He looked at the faces around him. “Return to your commands, bring everything up! Lord Rolak, you and Alan stay here. There’s not much to plan; our standard ‘march up and piss ’em off’ play ought to do it, but we need an order of battle and to make sure everybody has what they need.”
“Okay,” Alan said, praying
very
hard they were right after all. “When do we start the dance?”
very
hard they were right after all. “When do we start the dance?”
Pete looked at his watch. “Dark in nine hours. If ‘General Grik’ isn’t stuck all the way in with Second Corps, he might try ">“ove something back. If he does it in daylight, we can cut him up from the air, once he’s in the open. We can’t stop him in the dark, so . . . we need to make sure he has nothing to come back to before the sun goes down. We’ll have to hustle, but everything’s nearly in place now.” He looked up. “We go in two hours. Start the bombardment in one. Ships offshore now will begin simultaneously, and the others can join in as they arrive.”
“Some won’t be here for hours, General,” Alan said.
“That’s okay. Reasonable care should be taken to avoid the docks and manufacturing facilities we’ve pinpointed from the air, but the latecomers’ll still have plenty to shoot at. I want Colombo—the disgusting, puss-filled sore it is on
this
world—turned into a gravel pit.”
this
world—turned into a gravel pit.”
“Ah, should we pass the word to try to take any prisoners?” Alan asked.
“What for? We don’t eat
them
! Oh never mind, I know what you mean. Orders are don’t kill any Japs you see, and try to catch a few hon- chos in fancy clothes so we can find out more about ‘General Grik,’ and what else might be up. Besides that, take
no
risks to secure prisoners! In other words, don’t kill ’em if they throw themselves at your feet, but for God’s sake, cut their claws and bind their jaws—and kill ’em anyway if they twitch while you’re doing it.”
them
! Oh never mind, I know what you mean. Orders are don’t kill any Japs you see, and try to catch a few hon- chos in fancy clothes so we can find out more about ‘General Grik,’ and what else might be up. Besides that, take
no
risks to secure prisoners! In other words, don’t kill ’em if they throw themselves at your feet, but for God’s sake, cut their claws and bind their jaws—and kill ’em anyway if they twitch while you’re doing it.”
General Halik snarled with fury and literally flung the abject messenger away from him, drawing his sword as he did so.
“If you kill messengers that bring ill tidings, soon you’ll have none willing to bring you any, ill or good,” General Niwa said mildly. “Your messengers are not Uul, after all. They are . . . fairly valuable.”
“N’galsh, that . . . traitor! . . . has fled the city with the cream of the cadre we’ve spent these long months forming! He didn’t even
test
them against the enemy—he just took them and ran away!”
test
them against the enemy—he just took them and ran away!”
“Can you blame him? Honestly? He’s no general. I told you one of us should have remained behind.”
Halik and Niwa were standing near the crest of the highland range overlooking the cauldron of death the valley below had become. Both were filthy and a little scorched by a firebomb that landed nearby earlier in the day, destroying several large guns and roasting their carefully trained crews. Unlike the first such weapons they’d seen deployed in the south, these detonated on impact. The enemy revised and adapted their tools so quickly!
It was late afternoon now, and even Halik had long since wished he could end this battle. He wouldn’t have started it at all, if he’d been able to properly communicate with the forces on the northern slope. He’d been forced to rely on rote memorization of the “plan,” based on “you see this, you do that.” Even now, few of his Firsts of a Thousand (Niwa called them colonels) were willing to exercise initiative, even if they could. Now, having insisted Niwa accompany him here, he’d compounded that error by insisting he remain by his side. Had it been nerves? Insecurity? Halik suspected so. This had been his first real test, and he’d wanted the Japh with him . . . but then he’d ignored almost all his advice! He wasn’t really angry at the messenger, or really even N’galsh. N’galsh had done the only thing he knew to do. Halik was angry at himself.
“You speak truth, General Niwa,” he said, sheathing his blade and staring at the smoke-choked abattoir below. He couldn’t see much from where he stood, but even after the long hours of figheverhe enemy guns still thundered as frequently as they had all day, and the stutter of their “muskets” only wavered when the diminishing horde fell back out of range. Even then, curiously, some of the enemy small arms continued firing—and taking a toll—far beyond what he knew their own new “muskets” were capable of hitting anything. None of his “special” warriors armed with the things were down
there
, of course; they remained an elite guard for him and Niwa, but after their first blooding in the south, and what he’d seen here, he knew they were the future of this war.
there
, of course; they remained an elite guard for him and Niwa, but after their first blooding in the south, and what he’d seen here, he knew they were the future of this war.
“Call them back; end this,” Niwa said softly. “They’re not yet what we would make of them, but they’re
becoming
good troops, General. None I’ve seen have run as prey, even in the face of that impenetrable wall of fire. They
are
beginning to revert, however, and many are bunching up rather badly. The enemy planes will likely return, and their mortars . . .”
becoming
good troops, General. None I’ve seen have run as prey, even in the face of that impenetrable wall of fire. They
are
beginning to revert, however, and many are bunching up rather badly. The enemy planes will likely return, and their mortars . . .”
“Yes, yes! I know all that! It’s just . . . hard! In this one day, we’ve lost everything! With a single ‘plan,’ all is undone!”
“No, my . . . friend. Nothing is undone. As I’ve said many times, we’ve accomplished our mission here. We learned about the enemy, and he’s learned little new of us. Even more important is what
we
’
ve
learned about us! It’s long been an axiom among my . . . species that one often learns more from failure than success; more from defeat than victory. Not least among those lessons, I think, is that defeat is possible, even likely, if one has never seen its signs before.”
we
’
ve
learned about us! It’s long been an axiom among my . . . species that one often learns more from failure than success; more from defeat than victory. Not least among those lessons, I think, is that defeat is possible, even likely, if one has never seen its signs before.”
“There are ‘signs’ all around us!” Halik snorted.
“Indeed. You’ve seen much that doesn’t work today: too rigidly adhering to a plan, assuming that plan is too clever for the enemy to divine, overconcentration of command—all these and many more you won’t do again—if you and some portion of this army live to fight another time.” He put his hands behind his back. “General Halik, there are . . . some things . . . General of the Sea Kurokawa admires about your Uul. He admires what he calls their ‘discipline,’ their willingness to do anything they’re told, within the context of their understanding. Tell them to charge into certain death and they do—because few have any real con- cept of death, what it means, and that it will happen to them. They are told and they obey. We once watched hundreds dive into the water to assist with repairs to
Amagi
, my lost ship. They were torn to shreds by the fish. They finally managed the simple task set them, but
hundreds
died to accomplish what might have been achieved with no loss had any real thought been given to the assignment. Kurokawa believed that was discipline, but it wasn’t.” He paused. “I don’t know if you’re ready to discuss what I think it
was
, but it wasn’t
discipline
.”
Amagi
, my lost ship. They were torn to shreds by the fish. They finally managed the simple task set them, but
hundreds
died to accomplish what might have been achieved with no loss had any real thought been given to the assignment. Kurokawa believed that was discipline, but it wasn’t.” He paused. “I don’t know if you’re ready to discuss what I think it
was
, but it wasn’t
discipline
.”
He pointed down at the battle. “Those . . . creatures and their Americans have true discipline! They move and fight as a team, like a machine—and not the way your laborer Uul behave, with no thought or understanding of what they do. Our enemy, each and every one of them that performed that admirable maneuver to evade your trap, knows what is expected of them, knows they can die—they are as intelligent as you or I, it seems; yet even though they’re likely terrified, they do their duty.
That
is discipline! The contrast between that and your average Uul couldn’t be more striking.
That
is discipline! The contrast between that and your average Uul couldn’t be more striking.
“Now we’ve begun to form troops with a measure of understanding for what they do. Some are even
afraid
, I think; yet they don’t ‘turn prey,’ as you put it. They begin to
know
, as you once did, yet still they
do
. We must preserve that!”
afraid
, I think; yet they don’t ‘turn prey,’ as you put it. They begin to
know
, as you once did, yet still they
do
. We must preserve that!”
Halik hissed a long sigh, looking to the west where a great column of smoke rose above Colombo. “I will end this, if I can. Some will not retreat; others
will
turn prey at last, once they show their backs to the enemy. . . .”
will
turn prey at last, once they show their backs to the enemy. . . .”
“Perhaps.” Niwa stared down at the milling, dying army. “Perhaps not. If so, you can’t help that. Save what you can.”
Halik raised his voice. “The horns will sound the ‘gathering’ call!” He listened as his order was obeyed and the horns boomed along the crest, answered by others on the far slope. Almost immediately, the Grik horde, savagely depleted, began to stir; to disengage.
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