Fourteen
Year 163 AFC, D Minus One
“General Jusha attempted to mobilize his men, but my troops had surrounded his encampment. He tried to fight nonetheless, but his own men slew him, to avoid being massacred. Jusha did not know his men, and he did not know his foes. Thus, he was doomed before he began,” Grand Marshall Seeu Teenu concluded. Behind him, a scribe faithfully stored his words in a newfangled magnetic-strip sound recorder, so they may be later transcribed for posterity. “My officers are all capable men, and have performed well.”
The newly-appointed supreme commander of all the armies of Kirosha sounded rather proud of-himself, Magistrate Eereen Leep thought ungraciously. For all his overly-fulsome self-regard, the notorious general had his uses; he had swiftly and bloodlessly captured all Modernist leaders in the Army, and gained the fealty of the rest of the officer corps. The progressives who wanted to deal with the Star Devils were all dead or languishing in the dungeons beneath the Great Pyramid. And the Queen had finally thrown her support behind Eereen’s faction. The American Devil’s insults had been the mite that collapsed the roof, as the saying went.
The only spot of trouble had occurred the day before, when a bright object had overflown the capital at incredible speeds, sparking panic among the populace. Eeren himself had been briefly horrified, thinking the Star Devils had returned to exact vengeance. Fortunately, their ally had explained the small craft had been a piece of the larger vessels his gifts had helped destroy, and calm had been restored. Eeren had dispatched some troops to hunt for the craft and its pilot, to use as trophies, and turned his mind towards more important matters. Everything was finally coming together.
“We thank you for your service, Grand Marshall,” Eereen said. “Jusha and the renegade Prince Nooan were the last leaders among the Devil-Lovers.” He turned toward the throne in the center of the room, squatting down in front of its occupant. “Your Supreme Majesty, all the Kingdom’s men and cannon are now yours to command.”
“They were always ours to command,” High Queen Virosha the Eighth said. “Ka’at has been restored, all things returned to their proper station.” She paused dramatically. “Except for one.”
“Your wisdom in discerning Truth is unparalleled,” Eeren said with a deep bow, his obsequious demeanor hiding a surge of panic. Whenever the Queen saw fit to correct you, there was a small but very real chance you would be dragged outside and executed. All members of the court had to learn to anticipate and fulfill the Queen’s desires or risk death and worse. That too was Ka’at, the Way. “The Star Devils still pollute our land.”
“Since the time of our father, High King Pirosha, Fifth of that name, it has been so. Our ways have been tainted by strangers from beyond the sky. We were patient, but when their ambassador insulted us under our own roof, our patience was exhausted. It is time to make our displeasure known.” She turned towards the military commander. “What say you, Grand Marshall Seeu Teenu? Is victory at hand?”
“In war, certainty is attainable if enough knowledge is available. I have studied the enemy, and learned much from our honored ally.”
The ‘honored ally’ was not present; the Star Devil’s appearance was too noxious to be tolerated at court, and he was so unwittingly rude he would likely have offered enough offense to merit death, regardless of the consequences.
“Some questions are not easily answered, however,” Seeu continued. “Their weapons are superior to ours, much like the armored knights, musketeers and artillerymen of the Tee-Kir Dynasty were superior to the tribesmen of the north. And yet, in time, the tribesmen prevailed, and eventually overwhelmed the house of Tee-Kir.”
Eeren glanced fearfully at the Queen; the history lesson could well strike a nerve, since the current dynasty descended from said tribesmen, who had conquered Kirosha and become the new ruling class some two centuries and a half ago. The monarch gave no sign of taking offence, however, and instead continued to listen intently as Seeu spoke.
“There are many factors in our favor. The morale of our army is excellent. We were striving to build the most powerful force on the planet when the Star Devils arrived, and we have improved our tanks, artillery and tactics ever since. Even though the Devils will not sell us weapons, they often unwittingly allowed us to learn much from their history books and technical manuals. The Kingdom is as strong as it has ever been.
“Time is also on our side; eventually their supplies will grow low. Whether they run out of bullets or food, the end result will be the same. However, there is no need to wait that long, nor indeed is it desirable. Sieges are wasteful and lengthy, and no kingdom ever benefited from a protracted conflict. Instead, we shall seek a quick decision, in a matter of days.
“Tonight, we will set a trap for them and possibly slay some of their best warriors, should they venture forth beyond their lair, as I expect they will. Once war is officially declared, we will attempt a stratagem against them, striking at their weakness rather than their strength.”
“And will you use the Final Blow Society for this?” Eeren asked. His faction controlled the peasant militias, and they had taken severe losses already. There were still tens of thousands inside the capital, and more were coming, but the supply of foolish, fanatical peasants willing to blunt cannon fire by smothering it with their corpses was not endless.
“The martial societies will comprise the bulk of the attacking force, but they will not be alone. From studying the Americans, I have learned that they love children, even Kirosha children, more than they love their own lives. Their missionaries cherish youngsters above all other things, bringing them food and toys, caring for even the whelps of the lowest castes.”
“That means the Devils are weak,” Eeren said. Children had few uses until they were old enough to work, and more were always born than were needed, especially after the Star Devils brought medical knowledge that insured few died at birth or in their early years. Yes, parents should feel fondness for their young; that was part of Ka’at. But to put them above all other things was a violation of the Way, and a breach of common sense. You could replace children, so long as your people and culture survived.
“We will exploit that weakness,” the Grand Marshall said. “If that does not work, we use the Guard and the Army in earnest. And that will work. I simply prefer to spare our best tools until they are truly needed.”
Eeren, who had some inkling how much treasure had been spent in training and outfitting the modern forces gathering at the capital, wholly shared that sentiment, even if it meant his warrior-peasants would suffer. Come to think of it, now that Kirosha’s other factions had been neutralized, the martial societies’ usefulness was nearly at an end. Might as well send the best and bravest among them to their deaths, lest they decide to turn their virtues against the Crown.
The Queen nodded. “Then we give you our blessing. You have our supreme confidence, Grand Marshall Seeu Teenu.”
* * *
“Switch production to solid rounds,” Fromm told Staff Sergeant Tanaka. The supply sergeant and armorer was the unofficial logistic officer of the American Defense Force, as Fromm had labelled the collection of irregulars, militia and auxiliaries that were now under his command. He’d gone from running half a company to an oversized regiment. While he’d often thought he could do a better job than most colonels he’d met, Fromm hadn’t expected to get the chance to prove so, not at this point of his career.
“Explosive bullets are overpowered against unarmored personnel and they consume too many resources” he explained. “I’ll instruct the troops to save the plasma bullets for when vehicles come into range.”
“Yes, sir,” Tanaka replied.
Solid steel-copper bullets with pre-fragmented casings wouldn’t have the stopping power of standard issue Marine ammo, but the 4mm rounds would break apart upon hitting flesh, inflicting nasty wounds. More importantly, producing them would use a tiny fraction of the fabber feedstock plasma rounds did, since their components could be
easily be made from locally-available materials. That would also allow the fabricators to build another hundred IW-3 rifles for an auxiliary company. He needed to think about logistics, organization and grand strategy, and hope he’d have enough time to think of everything before he had to face a new onslaught.
Luckily for him, the Ruddies seemed to be taking the day off. No attacks before or after reveille, which had given him time to meet with the auxiliary commanders and get things organized. Intercepted radio chatter indicated the enemy was conducting some housecleaning within their ranks. The chaos of the previous days had been due to the maneuvering of rival factions within the Army, the Guard and the militant societies. It looked like whoever had come on top was making sure all dissenters were taken care of. In a way, it reminded him of the first years after First Contact, when former Defense Secretary and newly-appointed President Hewer had unified the country by means fair and foul. You could read between the lines of even the most rosy-colored accounts of that time period, and it hadn’t been pretty. That process had taken some years on Earth; Fromm suspected the Ruddies would take care of things much more quickly, since they were apparently just executing faction leaders by the carload. Meanwhile, he’d take advantage of the unofficial lull for as long as it lasted.
Turning hundreds of volunteers into semi-coherent units hadn’t been quite as hard as he’d feared. As it turned out, there were some fifty NCOs, half a dozen former lieutenants, two captains, and a major among the civilian volunteers, although the latter had been with the Army Corps of Engineers and suggested he’d be more useful helping fortify the area than getting back in uniform. All the other officers and NCOs had been reactivated at their former grade, with Fromm retaining command by virtue of being the only infantry officer.
He’d put the six lieutenants in charge of oversized companies of two hundred men each, drawing from the civilian volunteers with the most combat experience, and had the captains divide those companies into two battalions with three companies each. Each company would have an IW-3 platoon; the rest would be armed with the assault rifles Mr. Crow had turned over, and they wouldn’t have any organic heavy weapons, which made their effective firepower a fraction of what his Marines had. Thankfully all the volunteers had neural implants or portable equivalents, making command-and-control relatively easy, especially with CPO Donnelly’s communication team helping organize things. The hundred or so contractors he left as they were; each unit was used to working together, so it was best to let them operate on their own, under his overall command. The Black River group had its own transport, six-wheeled hydrogen-cell American-made ATVs. They had light force fields and railgun mounts. They would act as mobile reserves, ready to bolster any hard-pressed section. Fromm spread the other mercenary units along the perimeter as a ready reaction force.
The Ovals and Wyrms had joined in without reservations. The alien consulates were on their own and their survival was dependent on cooperating with each other. Each legation had brought along about a company’s worth of combat effectives; there were another hundred or so low-ranking diplomats, spacers and merchants who’d been pressed into service, but that was about it. On the other hand, the weapons of the three hundred alien volunteers were state-of-the-art stuff, as good as what his Marines fielded. Fromm detailed one of his new battalions to man the trenches protecting the two alien embassies, with the second one evenly split between the human and ET buildings. The aliens themselves he spread out as impromptu heavy weapon units, along with two-thirds of his Marines. That should provide plenty of firepower to the entire line of defense.
That left the matter of the Ruddy refugees inside the compound. A few people had demanded they be thrown out, but the missionaries had made it categorically clear they would not stand for that, and Fromm and Rockwell had backed them up. The Kirosha were so caste-conscious that he couldn’t imagine infiltrators posing as the despised Jersh under any circumstances. The local refugees would make the most loyal kind of allies: people who literally had nowhere else to go.
Unfortunately, except for Locquar’s gang – about sixty or seventy mercenaries – the Kirosha allies didn’t have any kind of military training, or any experience with firearms. The entire Jersh caste was forbidden from owning weapons of any kind, with even knives restricted to certain lengths and hefts. A couple of Mormon missionaries with military experience had volunteered to raise a company out of the most promising refugees; Fromm had given them two hundred rifles and plenty of ammo for practice. The rest of the Kirosha converts were already helping; all able-bodied males and females were busy digging more entrenchments and contributing their labor wherever necessary.
All he needed now was time. Everybody was working as hard as they could, and thanks to the Caterpillar earthmoving vehicles and the Ruddy pick-and-shovel volunteers, all the backup trench lines would be finished before nightfall. If the Ruddies gave him that long, the Starfarers’ position would be much stronger.
Whether or not it would be strong enough remained to be seen.
Fromm didn’t have many illusions about the effectiveness of the makeshift formations being put together. A fighting unit was more than troops and equipment; it took training, hard work and time to forge it into a reliable force, not to mention effective leadership. As a newly-minted captain, he knew he lacked the experience for proper large unit management. Beneath the outward confidence and optimism he had to project at all times lurked creeping doubts that he wasn’t up for the job.
But there was nobody else. Rockwell was ex-Navy; he would help a great deal with the staff work required to manage the improvised army, but he couldn’t offer much in the way of tactical advice. McClintock was Intelligence; Fromm would trust her with a gun at his side, or leading a squad or even a platoon, but she was more useful working with Donnelly to process information. And the last senior Embassy staffer, Norbert, was useless, a draftee who’d spent most of her time in uniform working for the Judge Advocate General, a lawyer by trade. Useless. At least she was staying out of the way. Llewellyn was also keeping out of sight, after being warned that he’d be drafted to help dig trenches if he showed his face in public or otherwise attracted attention to himself.
The captain wasn’t afraid of responsibility, only of failure. The last time he’d been faced with an impossible situation, he’d done what he thought was right.
He could only hope he’d be able to do so again.
* * *
“Bring us the Speaking Wand.”
A servant approached the Queen, bearing the gold-plated microphone which would carry her words over the airwaves, to be heard in every home and public establishment with a radio receiver. The monarch waited patiently while another servant counted down to the time of the speech; when the servant raised a red flag to show she was on the air, she began to speak in a carefully modulated voice.
“We are Kirosha. We are the Throne, the Will of the Land, the Voice of the People. Today, we call upon the Devils from the stars to make amends for their crimes. Today, we demand the unconditional surrender of every outlander in the City and Kingdom of Kirosha. We are prepared to be merciful. Only those guilty of murdering our loyal citizens will be punished. All others shall be spared, and sent into exile in the Hanpeer Islands until such time as they can be delivered to the darkness from whence they came.
“If the Devils refuse to surrender, then all Kirosha must raise their hands against them. Slay them without mercy. Plunder the graves of their ancestors and dig up their bones. Crush the skulls of their children beneath your feet. There will be no mercy. Any Kirosha who betrays Ka’at by worshipping the Devils and their false gods will be punished so that death will be seen as an act of supreme mercy.
“To the Devils, we say this: you have until the hour of noon tomorrow to surrender. When that hour is past, there will be no mercy.
“That is all. We now return you to your regular programming.”
* * *
Heather McClintock turned the station off just as what
passed for Kirosha martial music filled the airwaves after the Queen’s speech was over.
“Well, that is that.”
“I take it that surrender is not an option,” Deputy Norbert said, not for the first time.
“At the very least, every one of my Marines, and very likely all the senior diplomatic staff, including yourself, will be among those ‘punished’ for their crimes,” Captain Fromm said. “I think we all know what that means.”
Norbert shuddered and shook her head, remembering the scene at the Royal Court. “Not an option.”
“Neither the Wyrashat or Vehelians will surrender, either,” Heather said. “The loss of face incurred by giving up to non-Starfaring primitives is unacceptable to either culture.”
“Very well. No surrender,” Rockwell said. “Moving on. Captain?”
“This ultimatum narrows our window of opportunity to rescue the spaceport personnel, not to mention Lieutenant Commander Zhang,” Fromm said. “If the rescue mission’s going to happen at all, it has to be tonight. Tomorrow at noon they will attack every Starfaring facility they can reach.”
“Are you sure your plan will work?”
“The Kirosha don’t normally fight at night; their night vision is worse than a human’s, probably because they have that huge moon turning night into day half the time, and we’ve never sold them any low-light or night vision equipment. Tonight that planet-moon – the Eye of God as they call it – is ‘closed,’ so it’ll be as dark as it gets. We’ve been monitoring their radio traffic, so we have a good idea where their modern forces are. If we move fast, we can drive a flying column through their lines before they can react.”
“Flying column?” Norbert asked. “Do we have any aircraft?”
“It’s a technical term for a mobile force,” Fromm explained while everyone else tried not to roll their eyes at the Deputy. “It would consist of ground vehicles only. As to your question, there are three flight-capable vehicles under our control, corporate-owned atmospheric shuttlecraft, heavy and slow-moving. The Kirosha have aircraft of their own, roughly equivalent to early twentieth century models; a squadron was shot down by the Vehelian delegation when it attempted an overflight of the Enclave, so they’re keeping their planes on the ground for now. While the local air defense artillery and aircraft would probably be ineffective against the shuttles, we don’t know if the enemy has been given high-tech anti-air assets, so I’m not risking them for the time being.”
Warp Marine Corps- The Complete Series Page 22
