Iron Gray Sea: Destroyermen (26 page)

“That was . . . closer than I expected,” she said softly, barely audible over a loud, eerie chant the Grik had begun. None of them had ever heard anything like it, but its newness didn’t compare to the other changes they’d seen in the short fight.

“Yeah,” Flynn agreed. He turned to Leedom. “What were you saying? What did you mean?”

Bekiaa looked at the flyer and blinked tired curiosity.

“I’m afraid we’re cooked,” Leedom said, almost matter-of-factly. “Have you got comm?”

“I hope so. The guys were trying to patch up the generator,” Flynn admitted.

“Listen, sir, I gotta report what shot me down so other guys don’t get it!”

“You need to tell me what you saw!” Flynn demanded.

“Okay. General Alden needs to hear it too. If comm’s up, I’ll tell you while we send it. Fair?” He suddenly looked around with an almost-desperate expression for the first time, and patted the holster under his arm. “Say, uh, I sure could use a weapon besides my pistol!” He looked dubiously at Bekiaa’s rifle musket. “You got any oh-threes around here?”

CHAPTER
15

////// March 14, 1944

USS
Salissa
(CV-1)

L
ieutenant Sandy Newman banged on the bulkhead beside the door, or “hatch,” to Admiral Keje-Fris-Ar’s quarters, despite the Marine sentry standing there, who blinked astonishment at the breach of protocol. Keje opened the heavy door and stepped into the passageway.

“I was just on my way,” he said. “Cap-i-taan Atlaan-Fas called me over the bridge voice tube. Come, you can fill me in as we walk!”

“Yes, sir,” Sandy said, hurrying to keep up with the bear-shaped ’Cat. “One of Tikker’s scout planes spotted a fleet, sir, a
hell
of a fleet, about four hundred miles west-northwest, the other side of the south India coast. Two advanced pickets have confirmed; the DDs
Naga
and
Bowles
. They’re shadowing now, and also confirm the contact is definitely headed in this direction.”

They reached the companionway to the bridge, and took the steps two at a time.

“Ahd-mi-raal on the bridge!” someone cried, and Keje waved irritably. It was well-known he didn’t like to disturb the watch, and the warning was probably the result of a case of nerves.

“Ahd-mi-raal,” Captain Atlaan-Fas greeted him.

“Cap-i-taan. Show me.” They moved to the large chart table. Unlike on many other “Amer-i-caan” ships,
Salissa
’s charts often retained the ancient texts of the prophet Siska-Ta written on the margins. Few passages were pertinent to this part of the world, however, so the margins on this chart were almost blank. Almost. There were a few passages, and they gave Keje comfort now as Sandy pointed to a place on the “scroll.”

“What do we know?”

“Little. There are many Grik ships of the type we’ve seen before, perhaps only a hundred, but all with cannon. There are also perhaps a dozen massive steamers, almost as big as
Salissa
herself, that look most odd, according to reports.”

“Speed?”

“Only five or six knots, Ahd-mi-raal, but there are zeppelins above them, perhaps being towed! The pickets report a string of three or four trailing above each steamer! This in addition to the zeppelins we know have been sneaking past our air patrols at night and landing on fields across the western coast. The Third Bomb Squadron located one of their fields this morning and destroyed as many as ten airships on the ground, but there must be more.” He blinked exasperation. “The Ancient Enemy learns to conceal himself from us.”

“They are learning far too many things of late!” Keje confirmed darkly, absently dragging a nail-claw around the bulging southern coast of India. “Order
Naga
,
Bowles
, and the other pickets to break contact and withdraw at their best possible speed to here, just off the cape. It concerns me that they are out there on their own, and if they can see the Grik, the Grik can see them. We will observe the enemy movements with aircraft. This battlegroup and
Arracca
’s will join them at Point”—he squinted—“Point Comorin. Pass the word for COFO Jis-Tikkar. He must prepare a strike against the enemy fleet with every aircraft we have!”

Sandy shifted uneasily. “Uh, Admiral, as you know, General Alden’s in kind of a fix. He’s finally got a handle on what they ran into, and it’s bad. He’s ordered Fifth Corps to withdraw back south and dig in with Third Corps. He also ordered Rolak back to Madras, after all.” He shook his head. “Those poor guys pushed south all night without a break, and now they’ve got to turn back the way they came, and maybe fight their way through! Second Corps is way out on a limb, and one of its divisions—Colonel Flynn’s command—is dangling by the very last leaf. In the meantime, Madras itself is dangerously exposed. They’re all counting on us for air support!”

Keje was silent, and stared at the chart. Then he looked at the map that showed the updated disposition of the expeditionary elements. “What remains of Lieutenant Leedom’s squadrons?”

“They’re down about twenty percent, mostly mechanical casualties, but they’ve lost some planes and crews too. Leedom himself is with Flynn now, said he was ‘shot down,’ and the Grik zeps have some kind of defensive weapons now.”

“Make sure Cap-i-taan Tikkar is aware,” Keje warned.

“He is, sir.”

Keje sighed. “Very well. Ask Cap-i-taan Tassana-Ay-Arracca if she might spare General Alden one of her squadrons. We are all suddenly so very stretched and pulled in every direction. I cannot risk this fleet in close combat with the enemy until I know more about its capabilities, particularly of these new steamers of theirs!” He paused. “Advise General Alden that we will soon have a battle of our own. He may land every Marine from every support ship in Madraas to bolster his defenses there, and I will send him every plane I have when and if I can.”

Madras HQ

General Pete Alden was staring at his own map, the fingers of his left hand massaging his forehead. “So. No dice, huh?” he asked General Taa-leen.

“No, sur . . . I mean, yes, we will have another squadron from
Arracca
, and it will provide support for General Rolak on its way here, but we cannot expect more from the Ahd-mi-raal at this time.”

“Yeah. And I can’t really blame him. We’re in the shit, but we know we’re in the shit now. He’s about to jump off the pier in the dark.” He snorted. “Glad he’s bein’ more careful than I was.”

“You couldn’t have known, General,” Taa-leen consoled.

“I should have! Damn it, we caught a glimpse of it on Ceylon!” He looked at the ancient Grik, Hij-Geerki, still curled on his cushion. As far as Pete knew, the lizard hadn’t left the room.
Damn,
he thought.
Doesn’t he ever eat? Or take a dump
? “Hell!” he continued, “Geeky there
told
us! Those nine civvy Grik we captured at Colombo told him about this new General Halik and his Jap sidekick, but I never dreamed they could pull something like this together. They saw what we were doing, what we
wanted
to do, then figured out a way to clobber us when we did it!”

“I ser’ you, lord!” Hij-Geerki croaked piously.

“Yes,” Taa-leen agreed, ignoring Hij-Geerki. “This Haa-lik, or his Jaap, can design battles. We know that now. We will design better ones! I am concerned only about that in the short term. What worries me most are the reports of how the individual Grik are fighting! Few are suffering from Braad-furd’s Grik Rout, and now there is this other report!”

Pete nodded, and felt a chill despite the hot afternoon. They knew a large force had been massing at what had been II Corps’s objective, but Leedom had been the first to report a very frightening thing. Subsequent flights sent to firebomb the Grik surrounding Flynn had carried on and confirmed what Leedom saw. The “many” Grik west of Rocky Gap
were
advancing. In the Grik scheme of things, the fresh force wasn’t particularly large, perhaps numbering less than fifty thousand. That was more troops than Alden had in all of India, but no more than a properly handled corps had defeated in the past. But this new force was no mob rampaging along like a plague of locusts; it was a real army, uniformly dressed and equipped with matchlock muskets and long spears, and it was
marching
toward the Rocky Gap—and Flynn—in a long, fat column, complete with a supply and artillery train.

Pete looked back at the map. Fifth Corps was having little trouble moving back south—so far—but Rolak was hitting some serious opposition. It was still mostly savage spoiling attacks, but each time he had to deploy part of his corps, and his troops were utterly exhausted. Once they made it back to Madras, they wouldn’t be of any use to Safir Maraan and II Corps. Pete thought Safir
might
hack her way back to Madras, but that still left Flynn. He rubbed his eyes.

“You know, General Taa-leen,” he said, “we’ve got a lot of wild-ass Grik causing us fits down here in the low country, but we’re kind of used to that. I’m like you. I don’t like what Second Corps is up against one damn bit. I think, all of a sudden, that stupid, shitty Rocky Gap is something we need to hang on to—if for little more reason than the Grik want it so bad. Besides, it’s the only place a real army can get through to Madras from the west. I hate to rush him, but I think we have to tell Rolak to punch back through to here quick as he can. His guys can rest up then. As soon as he
gets
here, we take your division, the Marines off the ships—hell, the sailors from the transports, if Keje’ll let us—and
we
punch through to Second Corps and
keep
that crummy gap!”

“Yes, sur, General. But what about Flynn?”

Pete shook his head. “I . . . don’t know. It all depends on his position and whether he has the supplies—and troops to hold it.”

March 15, 1944
Below North Hill

“They
cannot
resist much longer!” Halik ranted aloud to himself as a third, properly coordinated (this time) attack ground up the corpse-choked slopes of that wickedly tenacious hill on the long grass prairie. The horns brayed insistently, and his army roared with something he remembered as akin to glee as the bloody banners swept forward and up. A thunderous staccato booming erupted in all directions and smoke churned down the slopes, engulfing the front ranks of the charge. Halik knew those first ranks had been flayed, but there were more behind them, many more. The stutter of enemy muskets—
Better than mine,
he seethed—became a continuous crackle, like dry sinik wood in a roaring flame. Still, this portion of his army, a quarter the size of that attacking the mouth of the mountain gap, still outnumbered the enemy at least eight to one, and he’d sent nearly all of it this time. The enemy had to be running out of ammunition—and warriors—by now.

This was the first time General Halik had led an entire battle alone. He and General Niwa had realized that staying together had been the greatest mistake they’d made on Ceylon. Neither had been in a position to avert several disasters that occurred too far away for them to influence, and they’d determined never to allow such a concentration of command again. Niwa was in the south, coordinating the various actions there, and Halik wasn’t nervous, exactly, but he did feel a measure of unease. He believed he’d planned this battle well, and the enemy had done exactly as he hoped—at first. The resilience of the defenders on that cursed northern hill and the speed with which the force in the pass had reacted to his attack there had surprised him, but he didn’t think he
needed
Niwa here. His battle was taking longer than expected, but he believed it was still in his grasp—yet he
missed
the Jaaph officer. Niwa’s cool counsel was always welcome at times like this, when Halik’s blood began to boil.

A shadow flitted across him, and he looked up.
Not again!
Several of the blue-and-white enemy aircraft swooped low, directly over his converging horde, and released more of their hideous firebombs. The things exploded, flinging streams of fire among his precious, disciplined Uul more vigorously than his own similar weapons could ever manage. He raged. He didn’t have any of the large fire throwers here, nor did he have enough artillery. What guns he had were deployed against the force in the gap. Worse, he had no more airships to use here either—all that remained in India had been taken from his command for “something else,” even General Niwa had no details about. He assumed General Esshk and General of the Sea Kurokawa were coming at last, but he had no confirmation. His rage dampened just a bit. It barely mattered. The enemy machines would make short work of his airships again, even if he still had them at his disposal.

This fight would have to be decided the old-fashioned way, but he still needed to win it quickly. The first “new” Uul had been landed a few weeks before in the Cambay Gulf, just as he’d asked. He’d actually been surprised by that, but he was grateful. Now they were hurrying here, even as the battle raged. They were not “attack” troops. Not yet. They had been designed from birth to
defend
. They were very young, barely mature, but he’d been assured they could do what they were made to do: stand and fight to the bitter end—just as his enemies now did atop that thrice-cursed hill!

This attack had to succeed, but at what cost? What price
could
he pay for that wretched hill? He still needed these attack warriors in the gap, and they were withering before his eyes! Had he become distracted from his own plan? He might yet win the hill and lose his primary objective. Only once the enemy in the gap had been pushed back could
he
fortify a defensive, impervious position with invincible troops! The enemy would never break out onto the prairie where its better, more coordinated mobility could be fully employed. Again he wished he had fast animals his own troops could ride! The enemy cavalry, as Niwa called it, had been nearly as dreadful a surprise as its aircraft! He wondered if there was not something, somewhere, in all the realms of the Grik, that could be tamed for such a purpose.