“The smaller towns, perhaps, sir?” Hunsley shrugged. “They’ll be sending supplies here, themselves, but if were to go to them direct … cut out the middlemen, so to speak?”
Alexis nodded. The smaller towns might better choices to allow the hands liberty, as well. They might not have a proper landing field for the ship’s boats, but setting spacers down in Atterrissage with so many soldiers running about might not be the wisest course. The services had traditional rivalries and it appeared many of the soldiers were as idle as her crew.
“Seek out the best prices you can find, but purchase nothing if you feel they’re too high, and we’ll give your idea a go.” She thought for a moment. It would be nice to see Courboin again, even if Delaine had sailed with the fleet and couldn’t be with her. “I may know just the place.”
She went off alone in search of where General Malicoat was headquartered and finally got directions she could follow after interrogating several soldiers. Malicoat and his staff had taken over the largest hotel in Atterrissage for their use. She made her way there, though she did take the time to stop at a streetcart for a bite to eat — a sort of thin pancake wrapped around ham, cheese, and a fried egg.
The hotel’s lobby had been cleared of its original furnishings and filled with desks. Army officers filled the space, either working busily at desks or rushing to and fro between them. If the soldiers at the landing field had been idle, such was not the case at Malicoat’s headquarters.
Alexis stood, ignored, near the entryway for a time, finally resorting to reaching out and grasping the arm of a soldier hurrying past.
“I’m looking for General Malicoat,” she said.
The man gave her collar a puzzled look, apparently unfamiliar with Naval ranks, then seemed to settle on saluting regardless. “Back down that hallway, ma’am,” he said. “Last door on the right.”
“Thank you.”
Alexis made her way down the hallway. There was a harried-looking aide in the outer room who asked her to wait, then went into what she presumed was Malicoat’s office.
She heard murmuring, then Malicoat bark out an answer.
“Carew? That Naval person? What does she want?” She wasn’t able to hear what the aide said. “Bloody — Oh, very well, send her in.”
The aide returned and motioned for her to enter. Alexis was having second thoughts about the venture, she’d meant to call on Malicoat only as a courtesy and it seemed now she was disturbing him.
“General Malicoat, sir,” she said, removing her beret.
“Do you have some news?”
“Sir?”
Malicoat waved a hand upward. “Some news of the transports? The rest of my men? Supplies?”
Alexis shook her head. “I’m sorry, no, sir. The last packet from Alchiba reported that they had not yet returned.”
“Why am I forever waiting on your Navy?” He went on before Alexis could think of a reply. “Oh, never mind, I know there’s little you can do about it.”
“I’ve sent along your requests with every packet, sir,” Alexis assured him. “Both to the fleet and back to Alchiba.”
“Little good it’s done.” Malicoat snorted. “Your admiral assured me it was but a fortnight’s trip from here to Alchiba and back — it’s been twice that now, and no sign of transports or supplies. We don’t have forever before the Hanoverese figure what we’re doing and send troops of their own to outnumber us. When that happens …” He frowned, then pointed at her. “I want you to see what I’m facing here and send your own report with the next packet, Carew.”
“Sir?”
“Perhaps you’ll be able to put it into whatever secret language you spacers speak for your admiral, eh? Put in the appropriate ‘avasts’ and ‘belays’ that’ll make him sit up and take notice.”
Alexis blanched in horror at the thought of an admiral sitting up and taking notice of a lieutenant. Good things rarely came of such an event.
Malicoat sighed. “I desire it impressed upon Admiral Chipley that I must have those supplies and the rest of my men.” He waved a hand at the walls. “The locals are pouring in to join up, more of them than even that Balestra predicted, and we’re out of those French uniforms for them. Out of weapons, as well, and they’re making do with what they’ve brought from their homes. And every day that goes by is another day closer to the Hanoverese finding what we’re up to here and bringing in their own troops. I cannot hold Giron against a sizable force, not with half my regiments and untrained locals!”
Alexis nodded, though she wasn’t sure what help a report from her would do. “If you think it will help, sir, I’ll write such a report, but surely Admiral Chipley takes more note of your words than mine.”
“Surely,” Malicoat repeated. He tapped his tablet and barked into it, “Roswell! Get in here!”
A moment later a uniformed woman appeared in the doorway. She was a full head taller than Alexis, with close-cropped hair and a slight build.
“Yes, sir?” she said.
“Carew, this is Lieutenant Roswell, 451st Light Cavalry. Roswell, Lieutenant Carew — highest ranking Naval officer Chipley’s left us in the system, if you can believe it.” He looked at Alexis and snorted. “Take no offense, Carew, it’s nothing personal. Only that your Navy’s right buggered me on this one.”
Alexis chose what she thought would be the safest course and remained silent.
“Show Carew a bit of what we’re dealing with, Roswell,” Malicoat said. “Those new Frenchies, perhaps? See if she thinks they’ll be of any use come to a fight.”
“Yes, sir,” Roswell said and stepped aside from the door.
Malicoat had already lowered his face to his tablet again, so Alexis nodded, replaced her beret, and followed Roswell.
Forty-Three
“What is it exactly you’d like to see?”
Alexis shook her head. “I’m not at all certain. General Malicoat wishes me to send a report to Admiral Chipley on the situation here and his desperate need for the rest of the regiment and supplies for the French.”
“Well there’s plenty of that to see, no doubt.” Roswell resumed walking. “The 451st is staging an exercise with some of the new French recruits outside of town. That’s what the general spoke of. Perhaps impress upon your admiral that it takes time and resources to train up an army?”
“Thank you, Lieutenant Roswell, I’d like that very much. I’m sure it will prove useful.”
Roswell grinned. “Not to mention give you something to do, eh? One must become bored up there with nothing to fill the days save spin round and round the planet.”
Alexis returned the grin. “It has become somewhat tiresome.”
They left the headquarters building and Roswell led her to an open square where some of the few vehicles the army had brought to Giron were parked.
“One of the perquisites of being on the general’s staff,” Roswell said as she nodded to a small aircar parked to the side.
Roswell and Alexis entered the car and Roswell told the driver their destination.
“It’s ten or so kilometers from the town,” Roswell explained. “We’re bivouacking the new French troops out there — more room for their training.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, Lieutenant Roswell, you said the 451st was your own regiment?”
“Company,” Roswell said. “We’re a part of the larger cavalry regiment — three companies of light and one heavy. Of course, the heavy was left behind on Alchiba.”
“I see,” Alexis said, though she really didn’t know what the difference might be. She was hesitant to ask too many questions and display her ignorance, but one nagged at her. “Are there many women in your regiment? I ask only because we’re so rare in the Fleet — the Fringe Fleet, at least — and I’ve seen so many with the army here on Giron.”
Roswell gave her a sideways look. “You’re from the Fringe, then?”
“Yes,” Alexis admitted, preparing herself to be treated as a provincial dolt once aga
in. The Core Worlds might be superior in some ways, but she saw no reason for those from them to be forever acting superior.
Thankfully Roswell simply nodded.
“I see. Well, the Army doesn’t hold to the same strictures as your Fleet does, not when the Core regiments are called up, in any case. The Fleet’s out here full-time, visiting all the worlds regularly. Even our Fringe regiments are generally quartered in one place and only called out if there’s trouble.” She frowned. “I suppose it’s thought that if things are bad enough for our boots to hit the ground, the time for catering to delicate sensibilities is a bit past.”
She took a moment to direct the driver to a hilltop overlooking a large plain.
“Set down there, if you will.”
Part of the plain was covered with tents and the domed structures the army seemed to favor. The western edge of the plain butted up against a long ridgeline and the aircar set down on a hilltop near the southern end.
“That’s where we’re keeping the French recruits,” Roswell said, pointing to the camp on the plain. “We’re a bit early. We’ve told them there’ll be a simulated attack this morning, but not from where.”
She handed Alexis a pair of binoculars and Alexis scanned the camp. The enhanced image showed her not only a magnified view, but displayed some sort of assessment for everything in the image, attempting to identify which tents and domes were likely used for cooking and which for arms storage. Along the outside edges of the camp there were some fortifications dug, simple trench and berm structures to slow an advancing enemy. These were manned by a few soldiers in French colors, but most of the camp seemed to be going about the business of their day without another thought.
“To answer your question, though,” Roswell went on as Alexis scanned the camp below. “The 451st’s light companies are mostly women, but only one in ten of the heavy. It’s the same one in ten for the infantry, I suspect, but I’ve never counted.”
“Why so many in the light companies?” Alexis asked.
Roswell grunted. “Mightn’t you better ask why so few in the heavy?” She shrugged. “It’s purely physical. There’re fewer women with the strength to handle the heavy cavalry. If one’s suit needs repair in the field one must be able to handle the components alone.” She looked Alexis over. “You’d not make even the light cavalry, I suspect, but the air corps might have you. Little heavy lifting there.”
Alexis felt, rather than heard, a sort of rumbling begin.
“Ah, they’re about it,” Roswell said. She pointed toward the ridgeline. “If they’ve stepped up their pace enough for us to feel it, then they’re on the upslope and should be just about — there!”
Alexis had no need of Roswell pointing it out to her. The ridgeline was suddenly overcome by a wave of figures flowing over it.
“Good lord,” she breathed.
At first she had trouble adjusting to the scale, thinking they were closer to the ridge than she’d originally thought. Then she realized that the figures were larger, almost twice as large, as the unarmored French recruits on the plain below. The mechanical battle suits were four meters tall and the ground shook from their heavy stride as they rushed down the slope.
Below, on the plain, the French recruits in the camp had all stopped, frozen in place as they watched the approaching horde.
“They’ve likely never seen cavalry before, not out here,” Roswell said. “They’ll break in a moment.”
Some of the French at the berms had weapons raised and appeared to be firing.
“Low power lasers,” Roswell said. “The suit computers will determine if it would be enough to do damage. Doubtful, that, though. They’re set to simulate the sort of weapons the locals brought with them — nothing but hunting rifles and the occasional dueling pistol. Certainly not what I’d wish to face cavalry with.”
“I should think not,” Alexis said.
Below them, first one and then another, then a steady stream of French soldiers left the fortifications and rushed back through the camp, some even abandoning their weapons. As they passed, other men in the camp began running as well. Before the attackers were even halfway to the camp, the defensive lines were nearly empty. By the time the armored charge came to a halt just before the trenches, there were only a few figures to be seen still at their posts, and those, Alexis suspected, were simply frozen in terror and unable to move.
Roswell pulled out her tablet and raised an eyebrow.
“They did better than I expected,” she said.
“Better?” Alexis scanned the mass of people at the far side of the camp. The rout had slowed and then stopped as the attackers paused and she could hear men calling out orders in the camp.
“As I said, they’ve never seen cavalry, much less faced it. Some of them fired enough to have realized it really was pointless, rather than simply running at the start.” She continued to study her tablet. “The point, I believe, has been made, though. Perhaps they’ll realize now that this isn’t some sort of lark, and that they’ll be facing real, seasoned Hanoverese troops at some point. Oh, look —” She pointed midway up the slope to where a single set of battle armor stood still. “— they actually got one.” She raised her own binoculars. “That’s Thacher — oh, she’ll be wound up over that.” Roswell waved Alexis toward the waiting aircar.
Once back in the air, Roswell had the driver circle the French camp. Alexis noted the differences between this camp and those they’d overflown closer in to Atterrissage. While the tents and layout were much the same, the camp below them looked rather slovenly compared to the others. The lanes that ran through it were not as straight, nor were the tents themselves so neatly aligned as the others.
“We’ve begun ringing the city with these camps for the French recruits,” Roswell said. “They’re eager, no doubt about that. We’ve had nearly an hundred thousand come to join up.”
“So many?” Alexis was surprised. Even Commodore Balestra had estimated that no more than thirty thousand troops would be raised on Giron. No wonder Malicoat was anxious for the arrival of those transports, if he had supplies for no more than a third of these volunteers.
“Some we send home,” Roswell said. “Too old or infirm.” She nodded at the camp below. “These are the latest and I expect we’ll lose ten or twenty percent of them after this morning’s fun.”
Roswell had the driver overfly several other encampments around the city, then set down beside Belial’s boat at the landing field. Hunsley had already returned, with news that the prices around Atterrissage were much higher than he’d like. They determined to seek out smaller towns from which to supply Belial. Roswell offered to accompany them with the aircar, saying that it would give her an opportunity to report back to General Malicoat on the conditions elsewhere on Giron.
Alexis suggested Courboin. She was anxious to see the town again, though she wished Delaine could be with her for it.
Forty-Four
Roswell had their driver put the aircar down in a field just outside Courboin and Belial’s boat settled to the ground just beside it. Alexis was anxious to see the town again, though she wished she’d taken the opportunity to do so while Delaine was still in-system.
“You were held prisoner here?” Roswell asked after they reached the town’s market square and Hunsley took the men off to purchase supplies.
Alexis nodded. “In a converted warehouse just down that road there.” She pointed. “Perhaps a kilometer away.”
Roswell frowned. “A warehouse? They gave you no proper housing?”
Alexis realized that Roswell thought she’d given her parole and would have had the run of the town.
Which I did, to a certain extent with Delaine, but for other reasons.
“The other officers were housed in town.” She pointed out the building just off the market. “There, in fact, but I hadn’t given my parole and was housed with the men.”
Roswell’s eyes widened. “I can’t imagine what you must have gone through there. With c
ommon spacers?”
Alexis fought down the urge to snap at her in defense of the men, thinking of all they’d done for her during that captivity. “Don’t you berth with the rest of your company?”
“Well, yes, but cavalry regiments are raised of the gentry and nobility, not the commoners.” She looked down the road Alexis had indicated. “That would be like serving in the infantry, and not as an officer.”
“It was for the best, regardless,” Alexis said, wishing to change the subject. “Come along down this street here. There’s a shop that sells the most wonderful chocolates.” She paused. “Or should we follow along with Hunsley in case he needs help with translation?”
She caught sight of Hunsley and the men. Her purser was deep in haggling with the owner of a vegetable stall, showing the man coins and flashing his fingers in an offer. The seller threw his arms up and flashed more fingers in return. Alexis smiled. Trust that neither a purser nor a shopkeeper would allow a little thing like language to stand in the way of a bargain.
She and Roswell left the square and walked down the street to where Alexis remembered the shop being, but found it was not only closed, but boarded up. The windows on the upper stories were either broken out or boarded as well. The brick walls of the building bore streaks of soot and the scent of burning wood hung heavily over the street.
“They must have had a fire. I hope no one was hurt.”
Roswell snorted. “They’ll be lucky to have not been hung.”
“What do you mean?”
“Retaliation.” Roswell said, nodding back at the building. “See the message?”
Alexis looked back at the building and noticed something scrawled across the boards covering the shop window.
“Rentrez envahisseurs?” She frowned. “Invaders surrender, no, get out? What does this mean?”
“We’re seeing more of it close to Atterrissage,” Roswell said. “Reprisals against Hanoverese who’ve come to this world. General Malicoat’s set up a special camp to keep the ethnic Hanoverese safe, at least those who make their way to Atterrissage and ask for protection.”
Alexis Carew: Books 1, 2, and 3 Page 83
