Deadly Shores (27 page)

“Tell General Ugla”—he looked at the captain who had first fetched him—“and tell General Shlook, that Generals Alden and Rolak seem to have invited us to leave this place. If they do not attack, we will not, and we will withdraw to the west where we can reconsolidate all our forces.”

“But Lord General!” the first runner protested.

“Do not question me!” Halik snarled. “We cannot prevail here. But Alden has taught me yet another lesson, I think, and we will find a place, eventually, to face him again!”

*   *   *

“We should pursue them! Slay them! Burn them!” Colonel Dalibor Svec ranted, spewing spittle on his luxuriant beard. Pete and Rolak dismounted from their meanies and approached the commander of the Czech Legion. On closer inspection, Svec's beard looked more battered, as did the rest of him and his officers. This was not unexpected considering the morning they'd had.

“You had the fight you've been spoiling for,” Pete pointed out. “You should be happy.”

“My legionnaires were the
only
ones who fought!”

Rolak glared at him and his tail swished menacingly. “Perhaps today, but our army has fought the Grik quite fiercely for a long, long time—at great cost, I must add—while your little band was content to watch and do nothing. Do not pose aggrieved before us!”

Svec was taken aback by Rolak's tone. Usually, the old Lemurian was so calm and reasonable.

“Rolak wants to chase 'em too, Svec,” Pete said. “We all do. It might even be the best time for it. I'm sure we'd tear 'em up—for a while. But it'll take time to get the weight we need to finish the job up through the Rocky Gap—and that's the only way to really bring it.” He gestured around. “It's taken weeks to plan this breakout, and stage this much artillery in the passes—and it just isn't enough. We do have a major advantage over Halik in the open. He can't maneuver near as fast or coordinate as well. We can catch him whenever we want and force a fight if we have to.”

Svec waved at the sky, and by implication all the Nancys and Fleashooters that still swooped about. “But why just let him go? You can still savage him as he retreats!”

“Sure, and lose a lot of planes and pilots to his antiair mortars. They're getting a lot better with those things. What it boils down to is that he's going to be too strung out for a while to make it worth the losses we'd take. Let him bunch back up.” He paused. “Besides, I've got some thinking to do about Halik. He could've made it hell for us here if he'd wanted to, even if he lost in the end. That makes me think he's taking a long view of things—and maybe losses don't appeal that much to him either anymore. We might use that. He also has to know we could've clobbered him as he withdrew, and he's got to be wondering why we didn't. He's way too sneaky, and I like to keep him guessing.” He shrugged. “And something Niwa said just before we came up has left me wondering,” he confessed. “Our blockade of western India's holding pretty tight, and not much is getting through. A lot of what the Grik are sending him might even be getting snapped up by Kurokawa, if he really has run wild. Either way, Halik's essentially cut off, except from supplies that might be arriving overland, across Arabia. He knows about radio, but has no rapid communications of his own, so he won't know squat about anything else that's going on—particularly the results of Captain Reddy's raid. We might use that too. In the long run, with his hatred of Kurokawa and his way different notions of things than other Grik we've run into, it's just possible Halik might wind up more dangerous to our enemies than he is to us!”

“You can't be considering an
alliance
!” Rolak rounded, incredulous.

“Of course not. And Colonel Svec and our cav can keep dogging him all they want, if they haven't had enough fighting today. I've no doubt we'll eventually have to kill General Halik, but in the meantime it might be interesting to see what he does on his own for a while.”

//////
First Fleet South

July 25, 1944

M
att watched Tikker's half-dozen Nancys straggle in from their various scouts over Madagascar and set down, one by one, alongside
Big Sal
. They were recovered as they arrived, and none had been lost. Just sending them to have a look was a very big risk, but they had to have
some
idea what was waiting for them. There was a chance the planes had alerted the Grik, but even if they'd been seen or heard, there was bound to be considerable confusion over their sudden appearance in sacred skies. As far as they knew, nobody on Madagascar had ever seen an airplane before, and if they had, or from descriptions had figured out what they were, Matt hoped it would take some time for the shock of actually seeing them to translate into any real action.

Donaghey
had been sent once more—still painted red—to cruise along the Grik coast and report any contacts. She'd also served as a waypoint for the planes. No report from her was considered a good thing, and now that the last Nancy had returned, she was finally free to proceed south on the next leg of her mission. The fate of
Sineaa
was still unknown, but she was presumed lost. Matt hated that
Donaghey
would be so alone, but hoped he could send one of Des-Ron 6's DDs to join her at the Republic's capital of Alex-aandra after this operation was complete. He couldn't help but feel a pang of worry for Greg Garrett and his crew. The kid was the best they had, and if anyone could weather the cape in a dedicated sailor, Greg was the guy. But he'd forever remain the somewhat gangly, anxious young man Matt first met as
Walker
's new gunnery officer in the mind's eye of his former skipper.
Well,
he thought,
we'll be able to use the wireless again in a few days, one way or the other, and I can send him a proper good-bye
.

“That's the last one, Skipper,” Gray proclaimed as the final plane was lifted, dripping water, onto the flight deck of the mighty carrier/Home. Matt stepped away from
Walker
's starboard bridgewing and moved back into the pilothouse. “Bring us alongside
Salissa
, if you please,” he told Rosen, who had the conn. Then he turned to Minnie. “Pass the word for Commanders McFarlane and Herring to join me in the wardroom, and have the cox'n stand by the motor launch. We'll be going aboard
Big Sal
directly.”

*   *   *

This would be the last meeting before the first Lemurians in uncounted centuries set foot on the ancestral land of Madagascar, and Adar was practically giddy with excitement. He was seated beside Keje at the head of the big table in Keje's conference room. Matt sat with Sandra in their usual place nearby, and Spanky and Simon Herring were beside them. Farther down was Major Alistair Jindal, the Imperial commander of the 21st AEF Regiment, attached to the 1st Raider Brigade. His counterpart, Risa-Sab-At, commanding the 3rd Regiment, wasn't present, but she could rely on her brother, Chack, to brief her. She was busy preparing the brigade for its role in the upcoming operation. Nial-Ras-Kavaat, of
Haakar-Faask
, sat awkwardly on the stool beyond Jindal. He was to be in charge of a detachment of the DD squadron, and bold as he was known to be in battle, he appeared somewhat nervous in this setting.

On the other side of the table were Kapitan Von Melhausen, finally well enough to attend, and Kapitan Leutnant Becher Lange. Atlaan-Fas,
Salissa
's nominal commander, and Sandy Newman, his exec, were next. Sitting beside them were Lieutenant Colonel Chack-Sab-At, General Queen Safir Maraan, Tikker, and Irvin Laumer. At the foot of the table were Courtney Bradford and Inquisitor Choon, engaged in a lively discussion about burrowing insects. Crowded in beside them, and oblivious to everything but the great map of Madagascar on the bulkhead behind Keje and Adar—the map he'd helped draw—was Lieutenant Toryu Miyata. It was a compilation of old American charts, from
Walker
's meager reserves, Grik maps and charts captured at Madras, and Toryu's memory. He was fairly familiar with the capital, where the Celestial Palace lay. Describing it had been his greatest contribution. He didn't know the Grik name for the place, but that hardly mattered. Everyone was calling it “Grik City,” anyway. He noticed there'd been some hasty additions since the scouting mission returned, and was glad some of those reinforced his earlier assumptions.

Nothing of significance had been discussed so far; that was the way of things at Keje's table. But the meal was over and the stewards were removing the remains and filling mugs with refreshments those in attendance were known to prefer. Now would begin the final briefings and deliberations concerning Operation “Skuggik Nest,” and Matt felt Sandra's hand find his under the table. He looked at her. The strange distance that came and went between them wasn't in evidence tonight, and though he was glad, he wondered why. He still couldn't imagine what he'd done to upset her, and when pressed, she either said it was “nothing,” or hadn't seemed able to explain. It wasn't important just then. They were together, and that was all that mattered.

“A toast!” Adar proclaimed, standing and raising his mug. “A toast to victory!”

Matt hurried to rise and extended his mug. As usual, there was nothing in his but the rich Lemurian beer. “I'll drink to that,” he said pleasantly, “as long as everyone remembers that our definition of ‘victory' is to raise as much hell as we possibly can, with the fewest losses in troops, ships, and aircraft,” he stressed again. Everyone stood and took a sip. “Indeed,” Adar agreed with slightly tempered enthusiasm. “But surely, after the return of COFO Tikker's scout, there is reason to hope we might accomplish much more.”

“Maybe,” Matt allowed, looking at the commander of
Salissa
's 1st Air Wing. “But we've got to remain cautious.” He held up a hand. “Sure, I know I haven't always been the one suggesting that in the past. . . .” There were polite chuckles. “But this
is
a different deal. We don't
have
to do this to survive. But this task force and its people . . . Well, it just can't be replaced. I'm not talking numbers alone; I'm talking experience and talent.” He glanced around, smiling, but blinking fond sadness in the Lemurian way. “This is the cream of the crop in so many ways, and we can't spare any of you.” He took a breath and started to say more; then he shook his head and sat.

“My brother Cap-i-taan Reddy is right, of course,” Keje growled, blinking at Adar, “and we must bear that always in our thoughts.” He'd remained standing, and now paced to the great map. “If I may?” he asked, and Matt nodded. “According to Grik charts, and now direct observation”—Keje blinked at Tikker—“we know the enemy maintains four separate, um, enclaves, upon our ancestral homeland, all in the North and West. Apparently Lieuten-aant Miyaata was correct when he surmised that the vast majority of Madagaascar has been maintained as a kind of preserve. For what purpose, remains unclear.”

“Most welcome news indeed,” Courtney Bradford enthused. “Perhaps even some remnant of the indigenous population still remains. Certainly there must be a few examples, at least, of native flora and fauna!”

“That
is
an exciting prospect,” Choon agreed.

“Um . . . of course,” Keje allowed. “But the most pertinent point at present is that the enclaves are relatively isolated, not only from the mainland of Africaa, across the strait to the west, but even from one another. Cap-i-taan Jis-Tikkar?”

Tikker stood and joined Keje at the map. “We were careful,” he said, “and though I can't guarantee it, I don't think we were any of us spotted. Ahd-mi-raal Keje is correct, however. Of the four Grik population centers we observed, only the two in the far north are within reach of each other. The other two are farther down the coast.”

“You used the term ‘enclave,'” Von Melhausen observed, his ancient eyes staring at the map, his fingers twisting his white mustache. “What do you mean by that?”

Tikker shrugged and looked at Keje. “Precisely that, if my understanding of the term is correct. Each city is surrounded on its inland side by a great, tall . . . well, wall of some kind, made of mighty trees, in the same way we have protected Baalkpan from the predators of the jungles of Borno. Only these are much larger, and many miles long, in fact.”

“Like the big wall erected to protect the natives from King Kong,” Herring muttered thoughtfully. “Except this one's not made of stone. . . .” Tikker didn't understand the reference, but nodded. “One must assume it is designed to keep Grik within, or something else out,” he agreed. “That would add further credence to Lieutenant Miyata's theory that the bulk of our homeland remains a preserve of some sort.” He blinked consternation. “A great many large monsters were reported grazing on the central plain, but nothing of the interior of the jungle could be seen. There is no telling what abides there.”

“Whatever it is, we can handle it,” Chack assured, and Matt stared at him. Chack caught his gaze and shrugged. “We
can
,” he added forcefully.

“Tell us more about these ‘walls,'” Matt instructed.

“They're big,” Tikker repeated, “heavily constructed of what look like Galla trees, and as I said, they go for miles.”

“Do they look like Chack's command will have any difficulty scaling them?”

“I shouldn't think so, sir.”

“Which means Grik can climb them too, so they're most likely designed to keep things out, not in. Maybe big things,” Sandra mused, speaking for the first time, while absently stroking Petey's small head. The ridiculous creature had been sated by a constant stream of morsels from Sandra's plate during the meal and had behaved himself amazingly well under the circumstances. Now he lay curled, in his usual spot around the back of Sandra's neck, fast asleep.

“I guess so,” Tikker concurred. He looked at Chack. “I hope you really can handle whatever that stockade is meant to keep out!”

“The First Raider Brigade will avoid whatever it is, or kill it,” Chack said simply.

Matt hoped he was right. “What other defenses did you see?” Matt questioned.

“Not much,” Tikker admitted. “No trenches or barricades, if that's what you mean. And we stayed high over the cities, as ordered, so it was hard to tell. There seem to be more guns around the main harbor than Miyata remembered, and there were quite a few Grik milling around in the city. No telling how many were warriors. There do seem to be a number of new parade grounds, though. Many more than Toryu remembered.”

“They may be training grounds for the ‘new' Grik that General Alden has reported in India,” Jindal suggested. “If so, they could provide a nasty surprise indeed.”

Herring frowned. “Yes,” he said. “And why not? They must come from somewhere, and it strikes me personally that it is more likely they'd come from here than other parts of the Grik Empire.”

Matt looked at him questioningly, and Herring chuckled darkly. “We know so little, but whatever training regimen they have established simply cannot be available to all Grik yet, and our man Niwa is certain Halik came from here.” He looked speculatively at Tikker. “You saw no massed troop movements?”

“No, and I overflew Grik City myself.”

“Hmm. I don't suppose he could do it again?” The question was directed at Matt.

“No. Once was potentially warning enough. I'd rather face ten thousand of 'em with surprise on my side than a hundred who know we're coming.” He looked back at Tikker. “You'll keep scouting the proposed landing site for Chack's Brigade, but stay away from Grik City. Now, what about the ships you saw in the harbor. What were they?”

Tikker blinked displeasure. “I believe six of their ironclad baattle waagons were present there, at least. There may have been more.”

“I doubt it,” Courtney proclaimed. “Like most evil things, they do tend to come in threes. Or multiples of three!”

Matt nodded. “Seems pretty universal with them. What else?”

“A couple hundreds of those Indiaman-type ships, so there probably are some troops. And at least a dozen of their ironclad cruiser things.”

“Hmm. Those bother me as much as the BBs,” Matt allowed. “Their guns are nearly as big, and they're more maneuverable. We've never had to face them ship to ship before either. Not at close range. We'll have to take care of those.”

“So the plan remains essentially unchanged?” Adar pressed.

“We'll have to tweak it a bit, and I'm less sure about the role we envisioned for Chack's Brigade. It seems riskier now. But yeah, we'll still land Second Corps as originally planned, and
Walker
will lead our surface elements into the bay to neutralize the enemy fleet and provide artillery support for the ground forces.”

“But what about me?” Keje demanded. “What of
Salissa
?” Matt looked at Keje and couldn't stop a grin from forming. “You, Admiral, will stay the hell out of range of anything they can throw at you from shore, and keep your planes in the air.”

“And me, Skipper?” Laumer asked, his tone quiet. Matt's grin faded. “You'll take your PTs in with me. Our first priority is the BBs.”

“And we will join you in the fight with
Amerika
, just as soon as we off-load the troops!” Von Melhausen exclaimed.

“No, Herr Kapitan, I'm afraid you mustn't do that. I need you to stay with
Salissa
and help protect her from anything unexpected. Your ship is faster than her, and she may need you.” He paused. “And besides, if we need to get everybody out in a hurry, we'll need you for that as well.”