Blood In the Water (23 page)

“But . . . !” Fred sputtered, amazed. “That's all over! The so-called Honorable New Britain Company that cooperated with the Doms is gone! The Empire has
freed
its women! It's complicated, but that's . . . kind of how the whole war started in the first place.” Hudgens and Willis exchanged looks. “I mean,” Fred continued, “didn't you know? Didn't Captain Anson tell
anybody
what was going on?” He gestured at Kari. “Our people, Lemurian and human . . . Americans, and the Impies, have thrashed fleet after fleet of Doms! We've secured the Enchanted Isles and invaded the damn Dominion itself! But we can only do so much, so fast, and we have another war, just as bad.” He tilted his head in the general direction of the South American continent. “We're near the end of our rope out here. Anson said your people would lend a hand
after we clobbered the Dom fleet they shifted through the Pass of Fire from the Atlantic to attack us. Well, we did! But now we're nearly bled out and need a hand! Anson was supposed to tell you all that and have you ready to jump on the opportunity when it came!”

“We didn't know any of that,” Captain Willis said gently. He looked at Hudgens. “
We
certainly didn't, at least,” he clarified. “I cannot say what our commanders and government might be aware of. Perhaps this Mr. Anson, whoever he was, never escaped the Dominion with the information you gave him, or the plan you made? All we knew was that the sea was less infested with enemy warships for the first time in many decades, thus our freedom to pursue our prize so close to enemy shores.”

Fred and Kari digested that for a long moment. “So nobody over here knows that a combined Allied fleet just
destroyed
the greater part of what was left of the Dominion's sea power?” Fred asked bitterly.

“We did not,” Captain Willis said. “And if our leaders truly didn't know, they soon will, when we take you to them.”

“But . . . we need to act fast! The Doms are on the ropes! If we can hit them together, from everywhere, they're done!”

“I certainly hope you're right,” Captain Willis agreed, nodding firmly. “And I'm inclined to believe that all you say is true, to your best understanding.” He glanced meaningfully at Lieutenant Hudgens. “I am also suddenly quite infected with your sense of urgency. Your news, and the fact that we now have Don Emmanuel, may well be sufficient to convince my immediate superior, Commodore Semmes. His evaluation of the opportunity you describe will carry great weight indeed, and I am confident that if we convince him, our fleet
will
move against the Pass of Fire in force at last.” His gentle smile returned, but it didn't touch his eyes. “Do believe me. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see the final end of the most
Un
holy Dominion, and all its abominable depravity, once and for all!”

Fred relaxed a bit, staring at the wireless set. “Swell,” he said. “But what's that Dom got to do with any of this?”

“Don Emmanuel? Perhaps a great deal,” Captain Willis said. “He serves his twisted pope as a form of ‘foreign minister,' I suppose. Extremely well connected. He was once the primary Dom negotiator between our peoples, in point of fact.” He frowned. “It is probably more accurate to say that he was the primary demander of concessions than negotiator, but there
have been no meetings in recent years.” He raised an eyebrow, looking at Fred. “Agents of our government, perhaps including your Mr. Anson, discovered that he had been dispatched eastward, to Africa, to secure an understanding with the reptile folk there.”

“The Grik!” Fred gasped. “That's who else we're fighting! You know of them?”

Willis looked at Hudgens again. “Yes,” he admitted. “A terrible enemy indeed. I honor your alliance even more now, and wish them all success. In any event, we and several other ships were sent to intercept him, but lost his trail on the voyage out. He was gone a great long time, and we suspected, frankly hoped, that the reptiles had killed him. Then one of our swiftest scouts sighted his ship again upon his return and the search was resumed. We just happened to stumble upon him, virtually at his own front door. We can only assume he made contact with the reptiles and made an agreement of some sort, to return from there alive after all this time.”

Fred hesitated. “You know, he could've met with others. Besides the Grik.”

“The League of Tripoli?” Willis probed, and Fred was stunned to silence. “Yes, we know of them as well. They are possibly the most powerful force on the globe, with all the arrogance of the Dominion, and far more powerful ships. It seems we have a
great
deal to talk about! But the League is yet another reason we have tried not to get deeply involved in foreign affairs. We do remain relatively weak, and they do not view us as a threat.”

“This ship isn't weak,” Fred pointed out.

“No, and we have a number of equally powerful ships in our fleet, as well as a fine—if modest—professional army. But our quality could never compete with the quantity of our enemies, or now especially the modern wonders possessed by the League.” He looked speculatively at Fred. “Or so I have long thought. Like the League, I presume, your alliance has wireless communications and flying machines. Do you have ships that compare with theirs as well?”

“We're working on them,” Fred hedged. “Kicking stuff around. Cooking stuff up. And we do have some ships and planes they'd hate to tangle with, but whatever threat the League might be—and they've made assholes of themselves a time or two—the Grik and Doms are our
primary concern right now. Have to try not to worry about the League until we finish stomping a mud hole in
their
asses. No choice.”

Willis laughed, the humor reaching his eyes at last. “Young man . . . Lieutenant, are you
sure
that you are an American naval officer? Though you make eminent sense, you do exhibit a certain . . . uninhibited turn of phrase.”

Fred grinned back. “Sure I'm sure. Sorry about that. But maybe that's the best proof I can give that I
am
an American naval officer? Times, and the way people talk, I guess, change.” He waved at Kari. “And you sound a little strange to us. More like Impies. A little.” He shrugged and pointed at the wireless set. “So, you want me to try to get somebody on that? Sometimes, the ‘conditions' I talked about are better at night, and it'll be dark soon. If we could at least tell our people we're okay . . .”

Willis sobered. “I would like nothing more, Lieutenant Reynolds, but until I can consult my superiors, I am afraid I must forbid it. As much sense as you make, so does their caution—in the face of a great deal of uncorroborated information—make sense as well. However”—he held up a hand—“am I correct in assuming that you can receive transmissions and reports without your keyboard in the circuit?”

Fred nodded. “Sure.”

Willis carefully picked the keyboard up and gazed at it a moment. “In that case, I will direct the ship's carpenters to assist you in rigging an . . . antenna, if the materials you require can be found aboard. Feel free to listen all you want, and I would appreciate hearing any information you learn that you feel comfortable sharing with me. But I will keep this with me for a time,” he said, gesturing with the keyboard. “Perhaps not long. I do believe you, as I said, but involving us further in the . . . very wide war you describe is not my decision.”

Fred licked his lips, his eyes following the keyboard. He could, of course, still transmit without it. Did Willis know that? He had to know that two wires tapping together would send a signal as readily with his set as with any telegraph equipment. Was this a test? He decided he'd just stick to listening for a while. Whether they could report back that they were alive or not wouldn't make any difference at all to the war effort. At least not until he could report that they'd have help or not. And it wasn't likely he'd hear anything from Shinya's forces anyway, although he might. Particularly if they'd crossed to this side of the mountains.
He really wanted to pick up something from Greg Garrett and
Donaghey
, but that might take a while as well. It was a long voyage across the South Atlantic under sail alone, and who knew what winds they'd find on this world. Either way, it seemed he and Kari had fallen in with people who were at least sympathetic, and might even be convinced to help after all. He wouldn't do anything to screw that up. For now.

“Suit yourself, Captain,” Fred said, stretching. He was still exhausted from his and Kari's long flight, and was beginning to believe that they might just be safe among friends. “And I'll tell you anything I hear that you might need to know, or that might help your superior officers make up their minds. But I have one other question. This is a fine ship and all—fast, tough, well-armed—but what do you fellas do about mountain fishes? You know, whatever you call them, those great, big-assed fishes that can eat a ship. I'd kind of like to know I'm not going to wake up inside one some night—or in the water.” He frowned and rubbed his eyes. “I don't like being in the water.”

CHAPTER
14

The Indus River Valley
October 4, 1944

“Regent Shighat will establish his new ‘field palace' here,” Halik said, jabbing a claw at a clear spot in the nearly solid green-and-brown-painted fabric he called a “map.” “Surveyors are already in place, preparing the site. And his army proceeds as expected, continuing its lurching advance down the old road, directly toward us here,” he added somewhat disdainfully, jabbing again. “I have never seen, or even imagined, an army move so slowly. All of our preliminary preparations are complete, with time to spare.”

General Yikkit was . . . impressed, to say the least, by what he'd seen of Halik's army, but there was no getting around the disparity in size between it and what he knew was approaching. He found Halik's confidence reassuring, but perhaps also unrealistic. “The image does not show the differences in elevation,” Halik continued. “My artists are still
not skilled at that. But the field palace will be considerably higher than we are here, as are the sides of the trail Shighat's army must follow. Trust me when I say that it is a most . . . advantageous place for us to meet him. You must greet his vanguard
here
, General Yikkit.” Halik pointed once again, at a place the trail apparently widened out, at the foot of the mountains. “With the force that Shighat expects to see. We will call it Sixth, ah, ‘Division,' though it is somewhat over strength for that new designation. General Ugla, you will take the First Division, to the heights northeast of the road. General Shlook, the Second, on the heights to the southwest. I will join you with the Fourth and Fifth, on your left, but will stand ready to react to developments in the rear of the column, and assault Shighat's field palace directly. I do not know if he will personally come down to take possession of our”—he gurgled a chuckle—“‘untainted' warriors, but we must be prepared for either eventuality. General Niwa? You will command the Third Division, supporting General Yikkit.” Unsaid was the fact that Niwa would be in position to take over from Yikkit if he failed or hesitated.

Yikkit stared. He wasn't accustomed to maps and had only ever seen a few, on a much larger scale. Still, he could appreciate how this smaller one—if accurate—could help them plan. It was also obvious how the approach Halik indicated would funnel and confine an advancing force. He glanced uneasily at Niwa. The strange human didn't quite trust him, particularly with the role Halik had assigned him. And he found it equally difficult to trust General Orochi Niwa. His presence had come as a great surprise. He hadn't known First General Esshk had sent a Japh to accompany General Halik, definitely not that he'd given him such an exalted rank. But that was apparently the case, as was the fact that Halik and Niwa had grown uncommonly close during their time together. Then again, all those now present beneath Halik's command pavilion, erected upon the slight elevation surrounded by his unusually . . . purposeful army, seemed quite comfortable with one another. The ease and familiarity with which Generals Shlook, Ugla, Niwa, and even senior members of their respective staffs, spoke to General Halik stood in stark contrast to the nervous anticipation and outright fear that Yikkit had grown accustomed to during any session with Regent Consort Shighat.

“How, may I ask, do you know exactly where Regent Consort Shighat
will be—or indeed, any of his other dispositions so far in advance?” he asked uncomfortably. “I know you have scouts. Any General—except apparently Shighat—would use them. But they cannot run fast enough to bring such observations so quickly . . . unless they actually ride upon the neekis!” He saw Halik glance at Niwa.

“No,” Halik allowed, “we have trained some to pull carts and guns, as you have seen, but they will not accept us on their backs. We cannot ride them. We must rely on . . . other scouts with even swifter mounts for reports such as these.”

Yikkit's mouth opened. “The
enemy
scouts for you? Without joining the hunt?” he demanded, mind reeling. At least he hadn't called the human/Lemurian cavalry force he'd learned was camped nearby “prey.” Not more than once.

“We have come to . . . know each other,” Halik stated dryly, “and in this one instance, our interests hunt together. I—all of us here—fight to preserve this army and what it has become. I first accomplished that by leaving India. Had I not, it would no longer exist. My former enemy, who has so” —his eyes narrowed in amusement—“graciously provided us with information regarding Shighat's movements, and . . . a few other small favors, wants
no
Grik in India. Not us, and certainly not Regent Consort Shighat. They scout for me—just now—so I might succeed in stopping Shighat. Our blood will achieve their aims.” His eyes narrowed even more, and his crest rippled. “What an interesting irony! But their assistance aids our aims as well.” He shook his head, his crest flaring wider in vague annoyance. “I explained this already.”

“You told me how your army came to be here,” Yikkit agreed, “but did not mention such active cooperation. I remain”—he took a long breath—“astounded, and still can hardly understand how you simply . . . stopped fighting them, without your whole army turning prey. It is further justification of First General Esshk's confidence in you, I suppose, but remains difficult to accept.”

“Accept it, General Yikkit,” said General Shlook. He and General Ugla, Halik's most trusted lieutenants after Niwa, remained skeptical of Yikkit as well, but all understood why his role in the coming battle was virtually essential. “And accept also that the active cooperation was equally surprising to us. If you better knew one of those who provide it, a
particularly relentless foe named Svec, you would be even more amazed.” Shlook grunted.

“He speaks the truth,” Halik said. “The humans have a saying: ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.' A most imaginative and flexible, if somewhat simplistic approach to such a serious matter. And I do not think it entirely applies us in this instance, though it is a close approximation. Perhaps ‘the enemy—us—of their greater enemy—Shighat—is ever so slightly
less
their enemy just now' is a better fit under the circumstances.” Even Niwa seemed amused, if Yikkit properly translated his strange face moving.

“In any event,” Yikkit said, “I remain even more ‘amazed' by what you have accomplished. Though the participation of Generals in actual battles, instead of merely designing them, still gives me pause”—he flicked his own crest—“along with a certain . . . eager anticipation,” he confessed. “It has been a long time since I wielded a sword,” he added wistfully, then returned to his point. “Your army exhibits a stunning degree of willing cooperation between its parts, and its members show a level of devotion to you greater than any I have witnessed, short of that owed to the Giver of Life herself. It may even . . . exceed that,” he proposed, now slightly nervous.

“Ah, you come to it at last,” Niwa said, finally joining the conversation, and addressing all of them, not just Yikkit. “You see, General Halik
has
become their ‘giver of life,' in all but name, and in more ways than you can imagine. He certainly
preserved
their lives and has not only allowed, but nurtured the awakening of true consciousness among his warriors. They have gained an understanding of this, and are grateful. Kurokawa, the Chooser, even General Esshk were wrong. Their experiments sought to develop better defensive fighters by allowing the less predatory hatchlings to survive. It worked, to a degree, but it was not as much the ‘as born' nature of the hatchlings that made them what they wanted as it was the training they received. And the training—and maturity—this army has earned at great cost far surpasses that ever achieved by any Grik army in history. Or so I would imagine. This army is . . .” Niwa paused a moment, considering. “It is
aware
,” he finally said. “Its isolation had much to do with that, I'm sure, as did the fact that it was battling an enemy the likes of which the Grik have never faced. It
was
losing
, General Yikkit, and General Halik simply couldn't afford to continue wasting warriors in headlong assaults, nor could he afford the luxury of sending his older, more seasoned veterans to the cookpots! What gradually resulted is a
real
army, not a mere mob of mindless, suggestible killers. This has become an army of
people
, individualistic to a degree, that not only wants to survive, but knows it will have to fight for the chance to do so. Perhaps most amazing of all is that it has developed a fierce loyalty to the one who protects its desire, its chance!”

“It has become its enemy, then,” Yikkit murmured.

“To a small but growing degree,” Niwa agreed, looking at Yikkit, then all of them. “So this is when you must decide if you can accept that or not. General Halik preserved this army for General Esshk.” He focused on Halik. “But in all honesty, how do you think he would feel if he saw it now? What do any of you think he would do if he truly understood what it has become, fully appreciated the threat it poses to Regent Shighat, regent Ragak, and all the others? Even him?” Niwa stared intently at Halik. They'd discussed this briefly, from time to time, but Halik never wanted to follow the thread to its conclusion. Niwa knew he had to, and so must Yikkit. Shlook and Ugla already had. Niwa shrugged. “Personally, I think he would use it. Esshk is no fool. But he would use it—use
us
—to death. And once the need was past, if any of us remained, he would destroy us. Those are the stakes, and that is what each of us must decide. Do we blindly follow a corrupt, life-consuming path, or do we blaze a new one? If we're not willing to do that, then we may as well let Shighat destroy us after all.” He looked back at Yikkit.

“So before we give you twenty thousand troops, very few of which remain what Shighat hopes they are, by the way” —he nodded at Halik—“and before anyone does another thing to prepare for the battle to come,
everyone
must agree, at last, upon what it is we actually fight to save this army
for
! Do we fight merely to exist? To let Esshk use us as he will and then discard us like a broken sword? Or will we fight for the future of your race, to
smash
the tyranny of the past that oppresses and consumes all life as though it has no meaning? The past is death. You all have seen it. The future might hold meaning, hope,
dignity
! That is what your army craves, General Halik, as do you: that thing called
honor
!” He took a breath in the silence that ensued. “If not for that, then what? General Esshk? Still? No.” Niwa looked at the others again. “I will fight
for the army we have built and for General Halik, who leads it. I will fight for him and the future he represents. I will not fight for General Esshk!”

Halik looked at him and slowly blinked his eyes. Never had he felt . . . whatever it was he felt. He couldn't describe it, other than as a profound sense of gratitude, but even that word was grossly insufficient. It would have to do. And whatever sentiment Niwa's words had stirred within his breast, it was good. “So be it,” he said very softly. “I am no ‘giver of life,' but I will be regent of this army, if that is what is required. Beyond that, we will see. General Yikkit? What say you?”

After the slightest hesitation, Yikkit suddenly cast himself on the ground at Halik's feet. “I serve you, Lord!” he said, his voice . . . sincerely reverent. He was in, with his eyes wide-open.

“Oh, do get up, General Yikkit!” General Ugla snapped gruffly. “We do not do that here!”