“Already a ten-day has passed without any of the three sides having gained anything like a strategic advantage over the other.”
“That will change soon,” declared the fourth member of the group, who was representing the army at the meeting. “We gathering the means push back all attacking forces from old city vicinity and destroy them on open floodplains.”
George raised his head briefly from where it was resting on his crossed paws. “Might succeed, might not. Try that kind of massive counterattack and you risk overreaching yourself. Not much chance to second-guess yourselves, if the effort turns out to come up short.” The dog showed bright, sharp teeth.
The oversized, dark yellow eyes of Jolebb-yun-det glared down at him. “You very small being to be talking so big.”
George shrugged, his fur rippling. “It’s got nothing to do with me. My friend and I are just along for the experience.”
The premier stared hard at Walker. “How can this be true? You travel with army of Kojn-umm, reports claim you even in command, but now you say you not on their side?”
Official disavowal of modern intelligence-gathering apparatus or no, Walker reflected, it was clear the forces of Biranju-oov were not operating in a vacuum. They knew that he and George hailed from Kojn-umm and not Toroud-eed. But then, such information would have been readily available from public media reports.
“We travel with that army, yes,” Walker told him. “Some say we command it, others that our supposed active participation is a front designed to confuse opponents. Regardless of which is true, it does not mean we necessarily share in all of its goals.”
The premier reacted thoughtfully. “So if you not here to betray Kojn-umm, or tell us what its military really want, you must be here to tell us what it is that you want.”
Sharp old polliwog, Walker thought. Have to be careful here.
“All my friends and I want, for ourselves, is to return to our homes. Since we are unable to do that, we’ve busied ourselves trying to help those Niyyuu we encounter get what they want.”
Two fingers splayed, the army’s representative slapped a hand hard against a nearby seat back. The sharp bang echoed through the room. “It plain to see what Kojn-umm and Toroud-eed want. The capitulation, in traditional terms, of Biranju-oov!”
Walker responded immediately. “Not necessarily. Although it’s not widely known,” he added as he lowered his voice conspiratorially, “the real quarrel of their respective governments is not with Biranju-oov, but with Charuchal-uul.”
Jaws would have dropped had the Niyyuu in the room possessed such facial features. The premier’s poise gave way to open bewilderment. “But if Kojn-umm and Toroud-eed not interested in subduing Biranju-oov, then why attack us? If dispute with Charuchal-uul, why not attack them?”
Walker adjusted the tiny handheld projector so that the field of battle was replaced by a detailed portion of Niyu’s globe. This focused on that portion of the world everyone in the room was presently occupying.
“By themselves, and especially while continuing to fight each other, Kojn-umm and Toroud-eed could not hope to defeat Charuchal-uul in traditional combat.”
“That for a certainty.” The army representative made the assertion without hesitation.
Walker took no umbrage at the comment. He had no patriotic capital to gain in rebuttal, and the officer was only stating what everyone in the room knew to be a fact.
“It is too big and too powerful, in the modern as well as the traditional Niyyuuan sense. Furthermore, it has no particular ongoing dispute with either of the realms that are presently attacking you. But,” he added softly, “it does with you.”
Shadim-hur-lud pressed the tips of all four long, limber fingers together. “You know much about Niyyuuan society, visitor.”
George yawned. “We’ve had plenty of time for study.”
“The last formal clash between Biranju-oov and Charuchal-uul was never settled to your satisfaction,” Walker continued. “Subsequently, your respective governments have tried their best to paper over the lingering differences. But resentment still simmers on both sides. Especially among certain influential elements of Biranjuan society.”
“What, exactly, are you proposing, alien?” The parliamental representative had one tall ear pointed directly at him, the other at George. “Is it possible we may assume that you can claim speak for forces of Toroud-eed as well as Kojn-umm?”
“You may,” Walker lied. Time for elaboration and clarification could come later. Right now it was crucial to secure a commitment from this government. “Despite what information to the contrary you may have acquired from the media, as an entirely neutral party with no personal interest in the outcome of your traditional fighting, my friend and I are authorized to broker an amendment to hostilities between your forces and theirs—provided that all can come to a mutual understanding how certain events should proceed in the immediate future.”
The premier, for one, was taken aback by the scope of what was being implied. “Are we to understand that Kojn-umm and Toroud-eed offering to ally with Biranju-oov in battle against the corrupt and fraudulent government of Charuchal-uul?”
“Not exactly,” George murmured, further muddying the political waters.
“Ahskh,” rasped the admiral. “Now truth will appear.”
Walker turned to him. “You know that any such formal alliance would be strong enough to alarm every other realm on Niyu. They would immediately combine against it. But if it can be shown that the fighting between yourselves and the forces of Kojn-umm and Toroud-eed are continuing, such a marshaling of planetary forces might well be constrained. Besides which, the forces of Toroud-eed and Kojn-umm would continue to battle among themselves. Everyone would find it perfectly natural that you, of Biranju-oov, would try to make use of that continuing clash and turn it to your tactical advantage.”
“A four-way war.” By now even the initially mistrustful Jolebb-yun-det was intrigued. More than intrigued, he was becoming excited at the possibilities presented by the alien. “No one has ever heard of such a thing. The Charuchalans will be smothered by their own confusion.”
“More than smothered,” Walker told him. “Because while Biranju-oov continues to battle in the field with the armies of Kojn-umm and Toroud-eed, your traditional fleet of historic craft, Admiral, will strike the old fortresses of Charuchal-uul from the sea.” He went silent—and waited. Nearby, George was unconcernedly chewing his toenails.
“What do yous think?” Tavel-bir-dom regarded his principal advisors. They were all fully awake now and oblivious to the lateness of the hour.
“The traditional navy has not had opportunity to show what it can do for many years,” the suddenly energized admiral observed.
“This offers fine chance,” the army’s representative declared, “to settle historical wrongs of Charuchalans once and for all.”
The premier turned to the one member of the group who had not yet spoken. “Shadim-hur, what say you? Will the parliament support, and underwrite, such an unprecedented venture?”
“For a chance to inflict a serious defeat on our old enemy Charuchal-uul, a willingness and a budget can always be found.” She turned to regard the pair of expectant aliens waiting in their midst. “I do find myself wonder about one thing, though.”
Walker met her stare. “My friend and I are here to respond to your concerns.”
“I wonder,” she murmured in the archetypal Niyyuuan rasp, “if Charuchal-uul is the end?”
“Not until they are soundly defeated, which occurrence I did not think to see in my lifetime,” Tavel-bir-dom remarked before Walker could reply. “Much less during my term of office.” Grateful for having been spared the need to respond to the parliamentary representative, Walker smiled at the premier. Like every Niyyuuan, he was fascinated by the degree to which the human’s mouth seemed to split his face in half.
“I am sure you comprehend,” Tavel-bir-dom went on, “that a decision of such import for a
ll citizens of Biranju-oov must be considered and voted on by full government.” A willowy gesture encompassed his colleagues. “We here are only the focus of power, not the power itself.”
Walker nodded. “My friend and I won’t be missed for a while. With your permission, we’ll wait here in Biranju-oov for your decision.”
“Should not be long in coming,” Tavel-bir-dom assured him. The premier’s excitement was now palpable as he contemplated a future that included the defeat of his realm’s most persistent and powerful adversary. “Meanwhile, you two will be treated as honored representatives. I ask of you only a little patience. Small enough to request in expectation of very big thing.”
As they were ushered out, Walker glanced back to see Shadim-hur-lud following him with her eyes. Was she only typically curious about the strange alien who had addressed the gathering, or was her intensity reflective of the preternaturally perspicacious query she had so transiently posed? Walker did not know.
What he did know was that it would be best to take no chances, and for him and his friends to avoid the dangerously perceptive principal representative of the parliament of Biranju-oov as much as possible.
Tavel-bir-dom was as good as his ear-grating word. Three days had passed since the aliens’ arrival when the eccentric pair was informed that the government of Biranju-oov had agreed to their unparalleled plan to move against Charuchal-uul. Despite this welcome news, Walker and George knew that their work was not done.
Now they had to convince the forces of Kojn-umm and Toroud-eed.
Because despite what man and dog had implied to the leaders of Biranju-oov, neither of those two commands had agreed to, or indeed had even been consulted about, such a plan. Neither had any hereditary dispute with the government or people of distant Charuchal-uul. Their quarrel was with Biranju-oov. Which was why Walker and George had been forced to seek the cooperation of that maritime realm at night, and in secret.
But the Biranjuans didn’t know that. If events transpired as Marcus Walker the trader had planned, they never would.
Should the true nature of his Machiavellian machinations be found out, however, there was a good chance all three governments would each vie with one another for the chance to deal with the double-dealing, hypocritical, treacherous aliens in their own way.
Slipping unseen out of modern Biranju-oov, Walker and George went separate ways: Walker to talk to the Kojnians, the dog to inform and persuade the Toroudians. All this taking place, of course, unbeknownst to the eager and already inveigled Biranju-oov. Meanwhile, the three-way hostilities continued on the battlefield before the walls of that maritime realm’s old city, with all sides seeking an advantage over the other. As fighting went on, it became apparent this was a strategic impossibility. If the Kojnians appeared to be gaining an advantage, the Biranju-oov would step up their attacks on them. If the reverse was the case, they would concentrate more forces against the Toroudians. And all the while, both Kojnians and Toroudians kept up their assault on the defensive walls of old Biranju-oov while continuing to skirmish among themselves.
Under such circumstances, it was no wonder no one in any camp thought to ponder the same question that so far had occurred only to a certain wary leader of the Biranjuan parliament.
Walker pressed his case to his original Niyyuuan acquaintances with verve. Having already been convinced, Viyv-pym was there in her limited capacity as alien handler to back him up.
“There’s really no choice,” he was saying as he addressed Saluu-hir-lek’s staff. As for the general himself, he struggled to maintain an air of measured solemnity. Of all those gathered in the prefabricated room, he was the only one Walker did not have to convince, having been let in on the plan of action from the beginning. Saluu-hir-lek watched his advisors and officers squirm as the alien laid out what was for them an uncomfortable reality.
“You have to assent to this agreement,” Walker told them. “If you decline, the Biranjuans will make a formal agreement with the Toroudians against you. Since Biranju-oov will be seen as defending itself from attack, and not as an aggressor, no objections to such an agreement will be raised in the media or elsewhere. Your army will be soundly defeated, if not wiped out, by the combined forces that will be arrayed against you.
“But if you agree, then this much greater concerted attack against arrogant Charuchal-uul will proceed, to the glory of all.”
One of the officers waved a finger in Walker’s direction. “You seem much captivated by this possibility, human Walker. What attraction does triumph over distant Charuchal-uul hold for you?”
“None,” Walker informed her unhesitatingly. “As it has been from the beginning of this campaign, my only concern is for the welfare of Kojn-umm. Just as it has always been ever since my friends and I first arrived on your world.”
“Speaking of yous’ friends . . . ,” the officer began.
“They are presently occupied with other personal activities,” Walker hastened to tell her. “The Tuuqalian in spinning his tales and seeing to his weapons, the K’eremu with her meditating, and the dog George with his usual unpredictable wanderings. Let’s not lose sight of why your commander has called this meeting.”
A senior advisor spoke up. He looked and sounded unhappy. “I, for one, not like this choice that is presented us. Charuchal-uul is far from Kojn-umm, and we have no historic differences with that vast and powerful realm. If we consent participate in this offensive, and it should fail, we risk incurring their enmity.” He looked around at his colleagues. “Charuchal-uul more dangerous to have as long-term adversary than Toroud-eed or even Biranju-oov.”
“But if they are defeated,” another advisor remarked with barely suppressed excitement clouding his grinding tone, “that will not matter. Could be much to lose, is true. But if expedition ends in triumph, very much to gain.”
“I am still troubled,” the older advisor husked. “Is no assurance even combined forces of all three armies capable of defeating traditional military of great Charuchal-uul.”
“Five armies,” Walker corrected him quietly.
There was a perceptible stirring among the assembled. Even Viyv-pym looked at him doubtfully. Only Saluu-hir-lek retained his poise, already aware of what the wily alien was about to say.
It was left to a junior advisor on the general’s staff to voice the question that dominated the thoughts of everyone present. “I never good much at mathematics, but last time I check field of battle, only three armies involved in this increasingly untidy conflict.” Deep, glistening Niyyuuan eyes locked on Walker. “Would much appreciate it if alien tactician could explain what he is cooking.”
Exhalations of amusement issued from her colleagues. As for Walker, no one appreciated the injection of a little levity into what had otherwise been an unremittingly tense situation more than the room’s sole human.
Though much shorter than those of the Niyyuu, his fingers had become adept at manipulating their tools. Now he used them to adjust the image that drifted in the air between him and Saluu-hir-lek’s staff.
“To the northeast of Charuchal-uul lies the small but energetic realm of Divintt-aap. Their government has already agreed to allow the traditional navy of Biranju-oov to utilize their excellent old harbor. Though modest in number and never a real threat to their far more powerful southern neighbor, their own traditional armed forces are well trained, well equipped, and intimately familiar with the local terrain.” Under his direction, the image shifted again.
“Southwest of the Tkak peninsula and the Bay of Ghalaud-pir, the realm of Dereun-oon sprawls over mountains and deserts that flank fertile valleys. These valleys, which constitute the soul of the realm, rely for their lifeblood on the water of great rivers that originate in the even-higher mountains of the Yivinsab Range. Those of you familiar with planetary geography know that the peaks of the Yivinsab lie within the borders of Charuchal-uul.” One of the senior advisors uttered a terse exclamation of appreciation. Walker was suitably encouraged.
“Successive governments of Dereun-oon have long coveted full, not just shared, control over the headwaters of these rivers that are so vital to not only the economy of their realm but to its culture. They see in our proposed combined assault on the dominance of Charuchal-uul an opportunity to gain something that has eluded them for a great many years.”
Unable to restrain himself any longer, one of the junior officers rose and began probing the interior of the projection with a long finger. “Larger view now becomes clear. Divintt-aap commands northeast while navy of Biranju-oov lands troops and deploys against traditional coastal fortifications. Dereun-oon attacks from southwest.” The finger moved: swirling, planning, tracing. “Combined forces of Kojn-umm and Toroud-eed, still fighting with each other, battle way across land bridge between continents of Saadh and Ruunkh to strike traditional Charuchal-uul fortresses from behind.” Withdrawing his finger, he looked cynically from the alien to his commander in chief.
“This not all devised by clever food preparator from distant world.”
The ground having been prepared for him, Saluu-hir-lek strode forward as Walker stepped back. “Because of profession practiced on his own world, the alien sees opportunities here we, steeped in our own culture, may have overlooked. I have take his conceptualizing and expand upon it.” Like any good general, he tried to appear as if he were addressing each of his individual subordinates particularly, to the exclusion of everyone around them.
“For this strategy to work, must continue to maintain fiction of nonalliance. Must continue light fighting with forces of Toroud-eed. As we fall back, not toward home but toward land bridge to nearest coast of Saadh, some forces of Biranju-oov will pursue, supposedly to harry both retreating armies. Media will focus on this strange three-way battle. Cannot be prevented them also noting provisioning and departure of Biranju-oov traditional fleet. But with making skillful effort at dissemination, fleet’s true purpose and destination can be suppressed until last minute.
The Light-years Beneath My Feet (The Taken) Page 18
