by Brent Reilly
CHAPTER 66
Because they could not re-cross the Gobi, Billy sent his troops west, around the desert, while he took a dozen water sacks and over flew it at night.
Northern China looked almost as deserted as the desert he just crossed. Only the old, weak, and stupid stayed behind. Peking looked fake, like a theater full of unemployed actors. Forced from their homeland by foreign occupiers, the Chinese burned their crops and slaughtered the farm animals they could not bring with them. Even the vacant buildings looked like they wanted to leave.
Billy’s marathoners had worked only in Mongolia and northern China. Something urged him to see how the Chinese from Hainan fared against the Mongols pressing into southern China.
Billy knew when he entered southern China by the millions of people desperately crossing the mighty Yangtze River. Many tried swimming, judging by the thousands of corpses littering the water. He followed the river west until he found the enemy force slaughtering the civilians. They drove what looked like a stampede of people. It reminded him of waves crashing upon rocky beaches.
Billy couldn’t do much to help, but he did what he could. He killed the enemy commander, did his scream and fire dance, then let thousands of vengeful Mongols chase him away from the civilians. It’d only buy them a day, but that could save thousands of lives.
Billy found the Chinese camp by following the Mongols. He flashed his four wands to identify himself and landed to a standing ovation. He watched their fear turn into relief just at the sight of him. They expect to die soon, he concluded, even though they numbered in the thousands. Several officers led him to their commander, the ex-governor’s grandson, Zhu Ching. Zhu, a powerful quad in his 40's, looked twice his age.
"Where have you been?" he greeted the Baron, not bothering to hide his desperation.
"I am well, thank you, general," Billy answered. "Yes, we destroyed the fifty thousand Mongols invading from the north. How are you?"
"The foreigners left! And a few million Chinese quads have abandoned us, with all the stolen valuables they could carry. That money was suppose to stay here."
"I'm sure you took your share." Billy was not sympathetic. If that wealth stayed here, the Mongols would obviously take it back. "How many quads do you still command?"
"A month ago I had over one hundred thousand, but now I only have ten under-strength battalions after recent desertions. I am all alone."
Other than several thousand troops.
"Well, you are not alone now," Billy assured him. "What about the enemy?"
"Until recently, the mob always looted ahead of us, so when they got hit, we struck whoever hit them. It worked out well for us. The greediest criminals gave us a trip wire.
“But then entire divisions starting hitting us -- not retirees, but active duty troops good at formation flying under Kublai. Who knew that fat bastard could general an air force? He’s not Subodei, but he’s far more competent than I care for.
“A division now surrounds us on three sides, plus a few hundred thousand civilians and veterans. We have to move far every day just to stay alive. We’d have left long ago if we didn’t have so many civilians to protect.”
The general sighed. He looked ready to collapse under all the stress. “Genghis Khan is coming with one hundred thousand of his best quads. My guys are rich now, for the first time in their lives. They want to live long enough to spend those riches. They’ll not stay and fight Genghis Khan. He could show up alone and say, boo, and I'd lose half my force."
“Then run.”
“Can’t you beat them? They say you’re the best.”
Billy felt tired. “My wands are not magical. They cannot make the enemy disappear. If I have highly motivated super-quads who can fly higher, faster, and farther, then I attack if I have surprise. Otherwise, I avoid battle until I enjoy favorable circumstances.”
The general looked about to cry. “I don’t know what to do.”
"Show me the enemy on a map," Billy asked.
Billy could tell these officers didn't want to fight. They may have been fierce warriors a month ago, but now they felt like rich teenagers eager for a night out on the town.
"They’re boxing you in," Billy concluded after just a glance at the map. "Once you stay in one place long enough for them to position themselves, they’ll hit you from three directions. I suggest you leave as much as possible behind, go tonight, and fly as far as you can. Give everyone a week off to hide their wealth, so the Mongols don't know who to follow. Those who fly the farthest will survive at the expense of the slowest."
"But who will protect China?" one of the officers asked.
"They're after blood, while your guys want to survive long enough to spend their new wealth. Your quads are worthless until they can safely store their valuables at home. Then they’ll fight for their homes, gold, and families. Only then will fliers rally around you for protection.
“I’ll send for the marathoners that I returned and give you a video of me asking their leaders to send you everything they have. They’ll help you because they know they’ll be next. They could loan you one hundred thousand quads, which will stiffen the spines of the few million Chinese quads that may be available.
“After the Mongols exhaust themselves driving deep into your territory, bombard them from behind with everything you’ve got while they're sleeping. Maximize casualties because you won’t get a second chance. Harass them until they leave, and make the Yangtze River your new border. Then declare independence, form a representative democracy, and sign mutual defense pacts with your neighbors.”
“But the Khan has half a million quads!”
“Not anymore. My marathoners in the Stans have killed half of them. I’ll try to get rid of his follow-up forces. With me behind him, he’ll have to redeploy several divisions to protect his rear. Stand your ground because he can’t garrison what he has, much less what he wants to take. We’ve killed at least several million Mongols, and probably twice that, so the Khan has never been weaker.”
Billy saw the sheer terror that the Khan inspired. One of the colonels looked like he had to take a dump. Billy wanted to inspire that depth of fear in his enemies.
“How many marathoners do you have?” Billy asked.
“Just one battalion.”
“Have everyone else leave now while the marathoners bomb the enemy at midnight. Nothing fancy -- just drop them where the enemy is most concentrated. When the Mongols chase you, I’ll flash my four wands and do my silly scream to distract them so your marathoners escape. Then use your marathoners to lure the Mongols away from your main force and tire them out.”
“Oh thank you, Mr. Baron!”
The general looked tempted to hug him, so Billy stepped back. Having their decision made for them energized the staff. The officers rushed out to spread the news that the Red Baron himself was gonna save them.
"You impregnated my sister and daughter," Zhu told him once they had privacy. Billy was not sure if the general was proud or angry.
"They don't even tell me who they are," Billy replied. "Some tough looking grandma tells me to come and them to go. You have no idea how awkward it is, someone entering a dark room to reproduce, then leaving without saying a word. I call it Ninja Sex because I never see or hear them. If stress, exhaustion, or sleepiness inhibits my ability to participate, the matron scolds me like a child. Everyone thinks the Red Baron is powerful, yet procreating with nameless, faceless silent shadows makes me feel impotent even as I impregnate them. I sometimes feel like a blind man in a dark room at night looking for a black cat that isn’t there.”
“So why do it?”
Billy sighed. “Who knows how long it’ll take to beat the damn Mongols? I fear Genghis Khan has a trick up his sleeve that I haven’t seen yet. And the more royal families I mate with, hopefully the fewer wars they’ll start. After three centuries of global war, I’ll do anything for world peace.”
&
nbsp; "That was my grandmother, Kung-ti’s wife, scolding you. I remember what it feels like. I look forward to seeing if your kids resemble the father."
"I'm trying to create a legend, so I hope my kids don't compare themselves to me. My father was a greater man than I’ll ever be, and you can tell my children that."
After a nap he infiltrated the enemy camp and the level of disorganization surprised him. Probably from all the veterans expecting special treatment, yet refusing to organize into units. Having cowed the Chinese, they slept soundly, so Billy walked among them, stabbing as he went.
Billy came across their munitions depot and smiled. He continued cutting them up, occasionally flying away when someone shot at him, while at the same time searching for the tent of that fat bastard Kublai. It took him another hour -- and three brief firefights -- before he stumbled upon it. And he only recognized it because of the numerous guards surrounding it.
A battalion was pre-loaded with bombs, so he worked his way there. He sliced and diced while looking for a rock to hide under. He just finished putting on a pack that he took off of a dying bomber when three quads -- all commanders -- unexpectedly surrounded him ready to shoot. He popped up and shot down before they struck, terrified they’d detonate his bomb and blow him into tiny pieces. Except he aimed for a bomb pack near them. The explosion triggered other bombs as Billy escaped at maximum speed. That woke up half the camp.
He went to ground and walked through the trees, slicing whenever he could do so safely. It shocked him how much the damn bomb weighed -- he really did lose a lot of muscle on the Alps. He needed to eat more and sleep better. The stress was killing him.
Zhu finally arrived to bomb the camp. Several hit the bombing battalion and the place lit up like New Years. Anti-personnel bombs explode on contact, so quads were safer in the air. As one, thousands of Mongols flew up. This little ruse would tire them too much to catch the Chinese.
Billy, in contrast, raced to Kublai’s tent. He popped up into an arc and used wand levitation to throw the bomb at five hundred meters. Now in a controlled fall, he shot four wands at Kublai’s security. Just as the bodyguards fixed their aim on him, the bomb exploded, shrapnel flying everywhere. Billy adjusted his fall, continued firing, then went to blades to cut the rest of them down as reinforcements rushed in.
He fled inside the burning tent and stabbed Kublai, still barely awake. Hiding behind the royal heir, Billy transferred Kublai’s Millennial Wands. They warmed his hands like a stiffening penis. The surge in power sent him soaring. With flames all around them, Billy felt like a dodo bird, which was so dumb it actually jumped into the cooking pot. Nearly on fire themselves, Kublai looked him in the eye and told him something explosive.
Billy now had six of the remaining eight sets of Millennial Wands.
He burned a hole in the ceiling and flew to the munitions depot. They assembled a log roof over the bomb wagons, but that didn’t protect them from the sides. Billy sliced a bomber taking off and threw his bomb pack against one of the wagons. Seeing what he planned, dozens of Mongols rushed him, but not before he popped up to his maximum effective distance to point his arms and legs at the bomb. Four fireballs struck at the same time with enough heat to detonate it. The wagon full of munitions disappeared, setting off secondary explosions that shook the ground like an earthquake. The air super-heated like a dragon farting.
Billy popped away as soon as he fired. He almost made it over the crest of a mound when the pressure wave smacked him like a fly. It threw him head over heels into a tree. A much greater shockwave followed, but the mound sent the worst of it over him. Billy covered his head with his arms and kissed the grass in a fetal position. Eyes firmly shut and gulping a lungful of air, searing heat reached out and gave him a night time sunburn that almost set his clothes on fire. Despite his head ringing, he could hear what sounded like a god screaming in agony.
The key to Billy’s survival was seeing into the future just a little farther than everyone else. So, half deaf, and with a good case of the shakes, Billy searched for stunned enemies to eliminate. And there were thousands on the ground bleeding from their eyes, mouths, or ears. It was like killing fish on a beach. He wobbled as quickly as he could, knowing he’d soon be discovered.
As his senses returned, something made Billy look up. There, maybe a kilometer up, Zhu and his marathoners were still shooting at thousands of Mongols. So many enemies should have overwhelmed them, but Billy’s explosion energized the Chinese and shocked the Mongols.
More and more quads, coming to aid the wounded, noticed Billy dispatching their comrades. He evaded them as long as possible until they swarmed too close to comfort. At the peak of his ability, he could have continued all night, but he was not near peak ability. After someone he didn’t see whacked him on the back of the head, Billy took that as a sign and shot straight up at full propulsion. He did his scream and led them away from the fleeing Chinese marathoners.
The next week he’d watch a news report of General Zhu claiming the Baron helped a million Chinese civilians escape by killing Kublai and throwing the Mongols into confusion. And associating his own heroics with the Red Baron didn’t hurt his reputation as his grandfather scheduled a national election for the following year.
War is terrible for many reasons, but it also has its moments. He just wished he could see the Khan’s face when he heard the Red Baron killed his last legitimate grandson.
