Maelstrom (45 page)

Some of Shinya’s staff managed to extricate themselves from the fighting and gathered around. Several were bleeding. Ramic hurried up, gasping for breath. He seemed oblivious to the swarms of crossbow bolts falling around him until he got behind the protection of the shield wall.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply. “I had no choice but to join you here.”

Shinya nodded.
Nobody
hated the Grik more than Ramic—not after the loss of
Nerracca
and his son. If there was anything he could have done to prevent the landing, he would have. Tamatsu was just glad Ramic hadn’t sacrificed himself and his warriors in a hopeless attempt. “Of course,” Shinya said. “Now, as soon as you shake out of column, the
Araccas
will directly reinforce the shield wall. Relieve as much pressure as you can.”

“Yes! We
must
hold here!” Ramic agreed. The others nodded, but Tamatsu sighed.

“Impossible. We have only three regiments. If we had twice that, and the rifle company, we could hold forever, no matter what the Grik send against us—but the troops weary already.” He shrugged. “And the rifle company is in reserve in the city. We’ll bleed them awhile yet, but then we must fall back on the fort. The left flank will begin to collapse backward, refusing the flank as it does.” He looked at them nervously. “I know we’ve never practiced anything remotely like this, but the Tenth did very much the same against the walls of Aryaal, so I know we can do it. The Grik will try to get around the flank as it moves, and we must not allow that.” A crossbow bolt skated off his helmet, and he shook his head irritably. “We’ll pull the guns out of the line to cover our flank. Hopefully the pressure will ease when we no longer block the road.”

“Yes.” Ramic snorted. “We will have opened the gate to their objective!”

Shinya looked at him. “Perhaps. But our new objective must be the preservation of the fort so it can remain a thorn in their side.” He gestured at the bay. “Perhaps you’ve not seen, U-Amaki, Ramic-Sa-Ar! Fort Atkinson has already avenged
Nerracca
manyfold!”

Ramic blinked his rage and suppressed frustration, and replied through clenched teeth, “My revenge won’t be complete until the Grik are
extinct
, and the iron ship that aids them lies at the bottom of the sea!”

Nakja-Mur was numbed to silence. So great was his shock over what he beheld, he’d been unable to speak for some time. He still stood beside Letts and Alden, and outwardly he was calm, but his claws dug deep furrows in the balcony rail. The slaughter was incredible—and so utterly alien. As he told his companions earlier, he’d received training as a warrior in his youth, but Baalkpan had forever been at peace. He’d known, theoretically, that he might one day have to fight, but the possibility seemed so remote he’d never truly contemplated what war might be like. The training sessions were viewed as rough, structured play by himself and his young companions, and little more than a way to vent excess energy by his parents. Now he saw war for the very first time, and the scale and scope and violence of it all were appalling.

The nature of the enemy added yet another dimension to the overall horrific effect. They came as inexorably as the tide, entirely oblivious to loss. Baalkpan Bay was a cauldron of destruction and fire, and the air was thick with choking smoke that completely blocked the midday sun.
Kas
-
Ra
-
Ar
was burning, and
Tolson
stood by, collecting her crew and spitting hate at the tangled swarm threatening to overwhelm her.
Walker
couldn’t be seen, and if not for regular reports from the magical crystal receivers, they’d have no idea if she even yet lived. Beyond the southwest wall, more and more Grik streamed ashore. Propelled by the freshening breeze, they deliberately crashed their ships onto the beach. That was yet another act entirely alien to Nakja-Mur, and one even his American friends hadn’t foreseen.

The Grik that made it to the beach were destroyed as effortlessly as insect pests by the cannons, arrows, and mortars of his people. Even from his distant perch, he saw their mangled corpses lying in dark, grotesque heaps. Yet still they came. Driven by some incomprehensible, maniacal madness, the Grik forged through the storm. There were just too many to stop them all. It was like holding back the sea with a fishnet. He caught occasional glimpses of a sizable force through the haze, beginning to assemble in the jungle cut on the Fort Atkinson road. Beyond that, the fort itself was invisible through the smoke.

Nakja-Mur looked at his human companions. He was still unable to judge their emotions by the confusing face moving that they did. A grin was a grin, and a snarl was a snarl, but their eyes—so expressive among his own people—told him nothing. And, of course, they didn’t have tails. The tension in their unmoving stance was clear enough, however. Suddenly, even over the tumult, they heard a deeper, prolonged rumble. It was more like an earthquake or distant volcanic blast than anything else he could imagine. They glanced at one another uneasily. A different female runner approached them. “The road is cut!” she cried in near panic.

“Calm, child!” Nakja-Mur soothed, none too calm himself—at least inwardly. “You must not show fear, lest it spread to those around you!”

The young female lowered her eyes and blinked. “Of course. I am shamed.”

“Not at all!” Nakja-Mur retorted. “Now, what is your message?”

“Tower one reports a signal from the fort: Major Shin-yaa has withdrawn within its walls. His force is mostly intact, and they continue to engage the enemy, but the landing force is free to move on the city. The fort is under heavy attack, but Lew-ten-aant Brister believes they can hold for now.”

“Did they estimate the size of the landing force?” Alden demanded.

The runner nodded, eyes wide. “Sixteen to twenty thousands—but the landings continue.”

“Very well—thanks.” He turned to the others. “As soon as they join the ones in the cut, they’ll probably come right at us.”

“You don’t think they’ll wait for further reinforcements?” Letts asked.

Pete shook his head. “Not their style. The first try, anyway. I think now it
is
time for me to go.”

Letts nodded. “By all means.”

“What of the threat from the bay?” Nakja-Mur asked nervously.

“You two will have to handle it. The defenses are stronger there, and the lizards’ll have to land right in their teeth. It’ll be very difficult to consolidate their force. They already have in the south. I think that’s where the main threat lies.”

Alden turned back to the runner. “First Marines, Fifth Baalkpan and Queen Maraan’s Six Hundred will prepare to advance to support the south wall.”

“Reserves already?” Letts asked.

Pete shook his head. “Do the math. The First Baalkpan and the few Manila volunteers are all we have on the south wall. That’s about twelve hundred, counting artillery. There’s no way they can stand against twenty or thirty thousand. I wish the rest of the Manila troops had arrived in time! We’ll pull the Second Aryaal off the north wall and add them to the central reserve.” He cocked his head to one side when the strange thundering sound resumed. Realization struck.

“Son of a bitch!
Amagi
must be in range. She’s shelling the fort!”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Brister,” said Shinya between deep, ragged breaths. “You timed that perfectly, I believe.”

Brister waved his hand and grated, barely above a whisper, “Your withdrawal was what was perfect. I never would have believed it.”

Shinya had to strain to hear him. “We lost two of the field pieces,” he brooded. “Their crews managed to spike them, but . . .” He shook his head. “It was that double load of canister from each of your guns just as we came over the wall that kept them off us long enough to re-form.”

“Later you may admire each other’s prowess,” Rolak growled tersely. His own part in the successful maneuver had not been inconsiderable. “Right now there is still a great battle underway.”

The fighting along the north and west walls of the fort was still fierce, but the pressure was easing. It was as if, sensing greater prey ahead, the majority of the Grik were content to leave the fort isolated and continue their push toward the city. Beyond the fighting on the wall, the seething mass sluiced through the gap and down the road. Midage younglings scurried behind the lines, distributing bundles of arrows. Guns barked, spraying their deadly hail into the flank of the mass, mowing great swaths through the rampaging mob, but for all the attention the bulk of the enemy paid them, they may as well not have bothered. “Cut off and bottled up,” Chapelle grimly observed.

Brister’s runner returned. “The message got through,” he announced with evident relief. “The tower confirmed receipt.”

“At least Baalkpan knows what’s coming.” Brister sighed hoarsely.

A high-pitched, deepening shriek forced its way above the din. It sounded like a dozen locomotives barreling directly toward them with their whistles wide open.

“Holy Christ!” Perry blurted, eyes going wide. “I forgot about the Japs!” He threw himself to the ground. Even as he fell upon it, the earth rushed up to meet him and the overpressure of titanic detonations drove the air from his lungs. Clods of dirt, jagged splinters, and various debris rained down, and a heavy weight fell across his back. For a moment he could only lie there, trying to draw a breath. Finally he succeeded, but the air was filled with chalky dust, despite the damp night before, and he coughed involuntarily. The weight came off and he was dragged to his feet. Chapelle’s face appeared before him, looking intently into his eyes. Then it disappeared. Brister shook his head, trying to clear it, and looked around.

A smoking crater was less than forty yards away, and bodies were scattered in all directions. One belonged to the runner who’d just spoken, and most of his head and part of his shoulder had simply disappeared, as if a super lizard had snatched a bite. Another shell had landed on top of the north wall, leaving a big gap surrounded by dazed and broken troops. He wondered why the Grik weren’t already pouring through, and lurched toward the wall and climbed to the top. “Form up! Form up!” he rasped over and over to those standing near. He doubted they could hear him. Even to himself he sounded as if he were shouting through a pillow. Rolak joined him, clutching his bloodied left arm to his side, and together they stared beyond the wall.

Ironically, most of the shells had fallen on the Grik. More smoking craters, surrounded by dripping gobbets of steaming flesh and shattered bone, formed a rough semicircle beyond the fort, extending about two hundred yards into the gap. Many of the enemy closest to the impact points were stunned into motionlessness, while others tried to force their way back through the press in panic. Those were mercilessly slaughtered.

“That’s something to see,” Brister muttered. “Panicked lizards.”

“Understandable under the circumstances,” Rolak agreed. “But few seem affected.”

“Yeah. But remember Bradford’s theory, and the way they acted at the Battle of Aryaal—you were there! When they were suddenly and unexpectedly attacked by overwhelming force, they flipped.”

Rolak nodded.

“Interesting. Friendly fire indeed,” Brister mused. He looked at Rolak. “Shinya?”

“Alive. He ran toward the west wall to see what damage there was. A Jaap bomb fell there.”

More shells began to fall.

“Quick!” Brister grabbed Rolak, and together they tumbled into the crater in the wall. Several defenders fell in on top of them, just as massive explosions pounded the fort again. Only one shell fell among the Grik this time. Brister brushed away debris and peered out of the hole. Most of the enemy were drawing back from the fort. In spite of the terrible damage they’d taken, they knew what
Amagi
’s true target was. Perry was up and running.

“Where are we going?” the old Lemurian asked, struggling to keep up.

“They’re trying to silence our guns! I have to make sure they think they have; otherwise they really will!” They came to a stop near the center of the fort to find the signal tower shattered.

“Damn!” Brister swore. He ran toward the west wall again. “Cease firing, cease firing!” he shouted with his damaged voice. He could see one of his guns already destroyed. Another tearing-canvas shriek sent everyone to the dirt this time. The concussion was so great it literally hurled him onto his back. Gasping, he sat up. With everything left to him, he shouted at the top of his lungs, even while debris was still in the air.

“Cease firing!”

With unspeakable gratitude he heard the command repeated, and the surviving crews stepped haltingly, dazedly from their guns. Another was wrecked by the most recent salvo.

“What are you doing?” Shinya demanded harshly, suddenly standing before him. “If you think you can surrender—”

“Surrender, hell!” Brister somehow managed. “
Amagi
doesn’t want to waste shells on us! She’s only trying to knock out our guns! If she thinks she’s succeeded, she’ll leave us alone!”

Shinya crossed his arms in front of him, face very stern. “This fort has a mission! You cannot accomplish it by hiding from the enemy! Lieutenant Brister, I had thought much more highly—”

Perry scrambled to his feet. “Now listen to me, you Jap bastard . . . !” he croaked.

Lord Rolak and Russ Chapelle managed to keep them apart.

“What have you in mind?” Rolak asked in a reasonable tone.

“Listen!”

“What?”

“Just listen! What do you hear?” Brister walked to the wall beside one of the guns and peered over it. In the middle distance
Amagi
was clearly visible, surrounded by her grotesque brood.

“What do you hear?” Rolak asked, and Brister sighed.

“Nothing. It worked. They’ve stopped.” For the moment the only sounds were the screams of the wounded, the crackling of fires, and the surflike noise of the Grik flowing past the wall. He pointed at the bay for Shinya’s benefit. “Look down there. We’ve sunk everything in range! Nothing else can even come into this part of the bay without running onto the wreckage of their friends. The battery’s done all it can! Despite all our shooting, the enemy’s getting past us now by hugging the far shoreline. That’s
not
in range, although the guys have been giving it hell. If we keep firing, all it’ll accomplish is to get us slaughtered.” He paused and looked at their faces. “Together, counting my gunners, we have close to three thousand troops in this fort. We may all die anyway, but I have an idea that might make it more worthwhile than just standing and getting pasted.” A shout rose up from the other side of the fort.