Straits of Hell (17 page)

T
he monitor eventually neared a pier away from the city lights and as soon as it was secured, Corporal Meek ushered them ashore. Awaiting them was a small group of guards in Romanesque costumes—but with bolt action rifles on their shoulders. They surrounded a short fireplug of a man in somewhat similar dress except that his was both more ornate and yet more practical in appearance. His gave the impression that it had been more often worn in combat than in ceremony. “Welcome,” he said. “At long last, welcome. I sincerely apologize for the sequestration you have endured, as well as the means by which we were forced to finally bring you ashore. I hope your ride was not overly unsettling?”

“It was fine,” Greg stated. “Nothing compared to our voyage here in the first place.”

The man grimaced, and his vaguely Asian eyes narrowed in the
meager light. “Quite,” he agreed. “Your treatment after that, since your arrival, is a personal humiliation to me, and I beg your forgiveness.” He straightened. “I am General Marcus Kim, commander of the land forces of the Republic of Real People, at your service.” He nodded at Choon. “I know the inquisitor, of course, and gather that you are Commander Greg Garrett, captain of the USS
Donaghey
? A fine ship indeed.” He looked at the others.

“This is Captain Bekiaa-Sab-at, commanding
Donaghey
's Marine contingent,” Greg supplied, “and my other companion is Chief Bosun's Mate Jenaar-Laan. May I assume you brought us here to meet your kaiser—your ‘Caes-aar'—at long last?”

“Indeed. I shall personally escort you to him. Hopefully, together, we might finally decide the best way to solve the . . . dilemma facing all our peoples, particularly as represented by that monster crouching in the harbor. If we can alleviate that distraction, perhaps we can proceed with our more important collaborations.”

Greg took a breath, both encouraged that the locals understood the priorities and dismayed that, apparently,
Savoie
's presence had so effectively prevented the Republic from focusing on the offensive deemed so critical by Captain Reddy.

“I sure hope so,” he said.

Still guarded—or under guard? Greg wondered. Kim and Choon boarded them on a conveyance that resembled a small Pullman car more than anything else, drawn by large beasts that looked like a cross between a camel and a giraffe. He'd have to get a better look at them in the daylight, but apparently the Republic used the creatures much like the Allies employed the vaguely moose-shaped paalkas. They didn't travel far. Within half an hour, they stopped before a columned structure still outside the more congested sections of the city, and Kim led them inside. “This has been known as the ‘Peace Palace,'” he explained ironically. “With the ‘War Palace,' the, uh,
Amerika
abroad, the kaiser resides here. Ah, if you would, please leave any weapons you may have brought with the attendants there.” He gestured. “I apologize again, and no offense is meant, but it is required. Even I may not go armed in the presence of the kaiser. It is the law.” Reluctantly, Greg nodded, and he, Bekiaa, and Chief Laan unfastened their belts with their 1911 Colt copies, magazine pouches, and 1917 pattern cutlasses, and handed them
over. Kim seemed to sigh with relief. “Thank you. Believe me, under the circumstances, I can understand your hesitation. But you really are entirely safe. No one here wishes you harm, and we truly are all on the same side. This way, if you please.” Kim led them through an ornate hall and into a smaller chamber, just as opulent, with luxuriant blue tapestries embroidered with gold and silver thread hanging from the walls. Inside, there were a number of people of various species, including several Gentaa, waiting expectantly. In the center of the chamber was a wooden throne—there was no other word for the baroquely carved object—upon which sat a robust Lemurian draped in silklike robes that matched the tapestries.
He looks older than I expected,
Greg realized,
older than Toryu Miyata described him. I wonder if the emergency is responsible for the silver streaks in his fur.

“His most Excellent Highness, Emperor Nig-Taak,” General Kim announced, and he and Choon both bowed. Greg and his companions saluted. “May I present Captain Greg Garrett, Captain Bekiaa-Sab-At, and Chief Boatswain's Mate Jenaar-Laan of the United States Ship
Donaghey
, here on behalf of the powers allied against the dreadful Ghaarrichk'k,” Kim said.

“The powers we have sworn to join,” Inquisitor Choon pointedly reminded, surprising Greg again with his tone. Apparently, there'd been a different Choon hiding within the seemingly endlessly patient one they'd come to know.

“You are welcome! Welcome indeed,” Nig-Taak said, his voice soft and controlled. He blinked amused . . . perhaps annoyance at Choon. “It is good to see you safe, my friend,” he added, “and I have not forgotten our commitment to the Allied cause.” He waved. “But as you know, there has been a complication.” He looked at Greg. “And please, do not let the word ‘emperor' mislead you. It is an ancient, honorary title—and implies perhaps that I have greater power than is the case.”

“You retain the moral power to honor agreements and lead your people in war,” Choon insisted. “The Senate can only advise on that subject. Please tell me that
some
preparations have been made to comply with Captain Reddy's request.”

Nig-Taak blinked strong displeasure. “
Some
have, but as you know, the bulk of our armies are quartered here, as are most of our training facilities, factories, armories, transportation centers. . . . I can move
nothing
now without them detecting it! Sending spies ashore must have been the very first thing they did after they arrived. And with that . . .
thing
sitting out there in the harbor, threatening our city, I have been unable to send more troops and equipment to join those already deployed.” He suddenly stood, blinking profound frustration. “Those people
know
things!” He pointed at Garrett. “Things they cannot know unless your codes have been compromised in some way! We have sent no transmissions, so they must be spying on you as well. They arrived here knowing exactly what we meant to do, and for reasons I cannot fathom, have threatened to bombard Alex-aandra with their great guns if we lift a finger against the Ghaarrichk'k!” He held every gaze, then looked back at Greg. “As soon as they submitted their demands, they staged a demonstration of their power. I'm sure you, at least, can appreciate that if they bombard this city,
thousands
could die!” He looked back at Choon. “And the Senate does fund my leadership, as well as the armed forces at my disposal. I can do nothing more without their agreement, which they will not give.” He swished his tail. “Perhaps most mysterious to me is why on earth they would care if we attack the Ghaarrichk'k in the first place! It is maddening!”

“I don't know, Your—Your Majesty,” Greg murmured. “But I can confirm, by their flag, that they're the same goons we've run into before. You received the reports of the submarine
Walker
sank?” Nig-Taak and General Kin both nodded. “So their actions here do seem consistent with the behavior of the sub—that only attacked when it became clear that Madagascar was the target of the task force that went there. These strangers seem more concerned with thwarting the Allies than aiding the Grik.”

“But . . . why?” Kim demanded.

Greg shrugged. “I have no idea. Neither did anybody else. But that's really kinda irrelevant right now. The Allies have taken Madagascar, and there're millions of Grik frothing at the mouth to have it back. Captain Reddy's expecting—has to have—a Republic assault to distract the Grik, and he's going to need it quick. Why this is important to you, beyond the preservation of your honor, is that if he can't hold Madagascar, make it an impregnable bastion of supply for the war here in the West, he can't send forces to help the Republic—and everything will eventually fall apart.”

“But what can I do?” Nig-Taak demanded. “I have told you what is at stake!”

“And Cap-i-taan Gaar-ett has just reminded you as well,” Bekiaa said forcefully, speaking for the first time. “The Republic is already at war with the Grik. The presence of
Amerika
at the battle for Grik City has confirmed that, and if the Grik do not already know it, they soon will. If the Alliance loses, or even if it is forced back from Mada-gaasgar, the Republic will be left all alone.” She shrugged. “Why not destroy
Savoie
, and then proceed as planned?” She looked oddly at Choon. “I know you must be able to, and we can help. We have two aircraft struck down in
Donaghey
's hold, and a modest supply of our new armor-piercing bombs.” She shrugged again. “Just sink the daamn thing and get on with it.”

When no one responded immediately, Greg suddenly knew that Bekiaa's suggestion had already occurred to the people there at some point and been rejected, which meant they thought there was at least a chance it might succeed.

“Why not?” he asked. He looked at Choon. “You've been mum about an awful lot, particularly about your country's military capabilities. I get that—orders. But now it's down to it and we gotta move! If you—we—can get rid of that damn battleship and get on with the war, we
have to
do it!”

“I shall make this plain at last. Had we been able to communicate with you, I would have done so sooner,” Kim replied slowly, looking at his kaiser. “We may have the
capability
to ‘get rid' of it, as you say, but the consequences to our people—and in the Senate—remain the greatest barrier to our finding the will to try.” When Nig-Taak said nothing, Kim continued. “As has been revealed—and is apparent,” he added sourly, “we are weak at sea. We have no fleet that can steam to the aid of your friends. We never even contemplated the need, and we mistakenly believed that the monitors were sufficient protection against any enemy entering our harbors. As we traveled here from the dock, Inquisitor Choon informed me that you ask a great deal about our aerial capabilities. Sadly, though we gradually began developing air-craaft some years ago, we saw no pressing need for them and are not as far along as you in that respect.” He stopped. “In any event, for the purposes of our alliance, we have a good army, well equipped. None of the members of our mission aboard
Amerika
, sent to find you, was told to conceal that the Republic is formidable on the ground, always on guard for threats from
the north.
Savoie
does not bathe the city with light as she does your ship, and a boarding action under cover of darkness has been considered.”

“And rejected as too costly,” Nig-Taak interjected. “We have fast-firing weapons,” he confessed, “based on the ‘maaxims'
Amerika
brought, that might suppress some return fire, but
Savoie
also has large numbers of similar, better-protected weapons. To achieve surprise, we could not evacuate the portion of the city that would be subject to indiscriminate fire from her maachine guns and secondary baatteries. The toll in civilian lives, not to mention one of our most important industrial quarters, could be . . . extreme.”

“A bombardment has been contemplated,” Kim resumed. “We
do
have excellent artillery, as has been promised.”

“I told him of your interest in the guns on the monitor,” Choon confessed to Greg. “They are powerful, and sufficient—we thought—for their purpose, but they are old now.” He flicked his tail. “We do have better.”

“Better, larger,
and
smaller, more mobile.” Kim paused. “Are you familiar with the ‘French Seventy-five'? I suspected as much,” he added, seeing Greg nod. “A variation of that weapon forms the backbone of our field artillery.” He shook his head. “So yes, we have considered a bombardment. We probably do have sufficient coastal defenses, some rather ingeniously concealed, to destroy or disable
Savoie
—but again, at what cost? His Majesty is right. If we open fire,
Savoie
will respond and the city might be destroyed. Thousands could die. Then there is another unpleasant fact to consider.
Savoie
's presence and behavior might certainly be considered an act of war, but she has not actually
harmed
anyone. If we fire on her, there is no question that the Republic would be at war with whoever sent her.”

Choon took a breath, having apparently been waiting for this particular subject to arise. “I must submit, Your Majesty, that whoever sent
Savoie
to intimidate us into abandoning our allies—there can be no other explanation—has already committed a grievous act of war against the Alliance by sinking
Respite Island.
They are therefore already at war with the Republic of Real People, if we truly do wish to be a full member of the Alliance and worthy of its friendship, respect, and above all, assistance.” He held up a hand. “The next question then would seem to be
whether they do—or would—consider themselves at war with us whatever we do. Remember, for some reason it seems important to them that their war remain . . . indirect just now. Why would that be? Perhaps they are not as powerful as they seem?” Nig-Taak stroked the fur on his chin, deep in thought.

“If Choon's right, that would raise a couple of options in my mind,” Greg said. “One, we attack without warning and sink
Savoie
. Your monitors converge under cover of a night bombardment from shore, maybe even giving me a chance to get my planes in the air. Then we hammer the hell out of the thing. We could do it. Maybe your city takes a beating, maybe not. If it does, that's too bad. All of our cities have taken a beating, but you know what? That's war, and you're in this one already up to your eyes whether it's touched you yet or not. The Grik will eventually see to that if we don't kick their asses, no matter what
Savoie
does. But if we take her out and beat the Grik, we can face whoever sent her together when the time comes. He paused and waved his hand. “Second option, we send for somebody from
Savoie
to come here and talk.” He grimaced. “Anybody but that idiot Morrisette. Then we tell 'em to get the hell out or else. Call their bluff, if it is one. If it isn't, it might go harder on your city, harder on my ship, but we'd still hammer them. If you really do have enough shore batteries to deal with her, your monitors might even still get their licks in because
Savoie
just can't shoot at everything at once.” He looked around. “I may be wrong, but my guess is, if they were here to start a ‘real' war, there'd be one by now. If not . . . they'll go away.”