by Chris Hechtl
“True,” Perry said with a nod.
“Which means Duluth would get a partial victory there as well,” Ryans said nodding. He gave the princess's a look. “Had he got his hands on you, he would have had one heck of a bargaining chip to hold over your father. His majesty would have been desperate to do anything to save you and may have capitulated.”
Both girls paled and then nodded slowly.
<==={}------------>
“For want of a nail a shoe was lost, for want of a shoe a horse was lost...for want of a horse...” Perry shook his head. “You get the idea. Logistics, logistics, logistics. It all begins and ends with setting that up right, getting everything moving properly and keeping them moving with no muss or fuss.”
“Yup,” Ryans nodded. He sat against the edge of the butcher block. Cassius and Gregory were working at the stove with their students. Answorth and Corgi hadn't understood why he'd wanted them to learn cooking but had gone along with it since he'd ordered it. He didn't expect them to be chefs like Cassius but at least if they ever had to do it in the field they could do it on their own... and would have a definite appreciation of the end product. Besides, it taught them a little about kitchen sink chemistry.
“What's cooking?” Perry asked, sniffing.
“Potato chips and French fries,” Ryans replied. “Right now chips,” he said. He pulled a wicker basket out from behind him. It had a tea towel inside and was covered with a heaping pile of chips. The chips had coarse salt on them. “Want some?”
“Okay...” Perry said smiling. He took a few. He bit into one and his eyes popped. “Is that vinegar?”
“Sea salt and vinegar. Apparently they knew how to make potato chips, they've even got some pretty good native veggie oil they use, but adding different flavors hadn't come up.”
“Ah. Different, this a new taste sensation?” Perry asked carefully.
Ryans shrugged. “Yes and no. It's also for logistics like you said.”
Perry eyed him. “It's easier to keep potatoes if they're cooked and bagged. Or dehydrated. We're working on a dehydrator too.”
“Ah,” Perry nodded. “So what's that smell? It smells like cheese and potatoes.”
Ryans smiled. “Ah, it's the au gratin. We've got some in the stove.” Ryans waved to the new stove. The latest design was a box, welded together at the seams. It was a steel stove, only slightly sooty. “We're going to be making all sorts of stuff soon. But since we're in a potato mode, we decided to play a little.”
Perry popped another in his mouth, chewed, swallowed and then grinned as if a new thought had stuck him suddenly. “You do realize Sue's going to be on your case about the whole chip thing right? Saturated fat?”
“I don't see the harm. At least not in the short term,” Gregory said, looking over his shoulder. “I haven't checked, and I know Charlie hasn't either, but I bet the oil isn't made of saturated fat. When we get the time we can and will adjust things.” He shrugged.
“Ah. Okay, carry on,” Perry smiled in amusement and walked out, popping chips into his mouth.
<==={}------------>
Lieutenant Galloway made a point about the architecture. Some of the older buildings had Roman or Greek influence. A few had Asian influence, most likely from Tau and Duke Isamu Sung's ancestors. Deidra told them that people had been here before. The capital was built on the ruined foundations of a Greek outpost city that had burned down.
“Many people died there. So many they lost their breeding,” Deidra said grimacing. “One of the greatest gifts a woman can give is children; we don't have enough for a pure bloodline. That's why gaijin are respected and sought after. They bring new strength back to the blood.”
“Ah, so that's why most of my men and even some of the women are getting hit on,” the Gunny said chuckling.
“Well, it's not going to help. We're all fixed for another year or so, so any wild oats they think they are sowing aren't going to take,” Galloway said with a snort.
“Yeah. But it's fun trying anyway,” the Gunny chuckled. “Besides, they don't know that,” he said with a smirk.
“Just as long as you don't get syphilis or something else along the way, remember Doc's orders,” the lieutenant deadpanned. The Gunny nodded, suddenly cold sober.
<==={}------------>
They sent out Lewis in the ultra light loaded with digital cameras to map the battlefield terrain and get placements of enemy. It was a hit or miss thing, by the time she got to the battlefield it was near dark so the shadows were long and details hard to make out.
Since the ultra light had a five hundred mile range they pulled the cameras the next morning and sent out the electric ultra light to check in with the blocking force. Ginger landed on a bumpy stretch of road and dropped off a couple of kegs of explosives and ammunition and exchanged a grateful handshake with Ticundus.
Fortunately they had access to a well so water was not a concern. The blocking force was using conscripted labor to dig into the Imperium side of the wall fortress, making a moat on the Imperium side. Reinforcements in the form of another century of soldiers arrived the day before Ginger did to aide them. Locals that had lost their homes and were found wandering the area trying to avoid the raiders were picked up by the reinforcement century on their way to the wall. When they had arrived the civilians had set up camp around the wall, they were even reported to be building wooden hoardings on the wall.
Ginger smiled as she made her report. She felt a little undressed though; surely she could have scared up a white scarf and goggles to make her look like a real aviator right? she thought with bemusement. Perry rubbed his chin and smiled to Ryans who smiled back. “Looks like the pieces are finally falling into place,” he said.
“Pretty much,” Ryans said.
“Sir, with all due respect... the blocking force doesn't stand a spitting chance against that army. I've seen it,” Lewis said.
“But they don't have to hold them all off, just a few for now. Right now they've just got to keep them from being resupplied and piss this King Art’ur off. If he's as big an arrogant prick as we've been led to believe he'll send a small force to try to chase them out.”
“Which they will chew up and spit out,” Ryans supplied. Perry looked at him and nodded.
“Right,” Perry said “and the next, and probably the next after that. They've got the advantage since they're defending from the fort remember? So it'll take ten times their numbers to get them out. Ticundus has a damn good head on his shoulders, he'll kick their ass.”
“As long as they aren't flanked,” Waters warned.
“They can defend at range with the rifles,” Ryans said. “And they've got orders to run if they can't hold. But if they can they will and they'll make damn sure nothing passes.”
“Thermopylae. None shall pass.”
“Not quite the three hundred but getting there,” Ryans said. “Let’s just make sure it goes better for these folks than it did for the Spartans.”
“Right,” Perry replied with a firm nod.
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Art’ur received word that his messengers had not been getting through the pass later that evening. At first he thought they were deserting. The next morning he sent a party to find them. The leader of the party was centurion Serid, a distant cousin to lord Wedst. He was bored, bored with the siege and bored with the raiding. Bored with the assignment, zig zagging across the fields to find deserters who were most likely long gone if they knew what was good for them.
On the second evening they arrived at the wall and found more than they bargained for. They arrived at the ruined fort at the center of the defenses at night surprising the defenders. Several of the surprised soldiers managed to escape back the way they had come into the night.
Ticundus thought about following but then disregarded the idea. The odds of finding them in the dark let alone catching up to them to stop them were highly remote. If he was them he'd go hell for leather as fast as his beast could take hi
m to safety. Instead he reported it in via his radio.
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“They dare?” Art’ur raged, reacting badly to the news of the blocking force. The survivors including a wounded Serid were on their knees before him. Serid had a bloodied bandage over his face and another on his right arm. That arm hung limply in his lap, a sure sign of it being broken. He would be useless in battle for several months while he recovered.
“A daring move my lord. It speaks of their getting ready to attack soon,” Uuôden counseled. “I believe a peace offering is now out,” he said dryly. The general had started to regain some semblance of his former self as the siege raged on. But this strange gaijin craft had thrown him. Now the blocking force had him uneasy.
He looked at his liege. Art’ur was still as impatient and impulsive as ever he realized. The siege had not taught him patience, only shortened his temper. He ranted for nearly an hour before dispatching men to force the pass open once more.
Uuôden sighed as he exited the tent and nodded to lord Wedst. Wedst took his cousin in by the arm and gently guided him away to his healer. “Dominus Fargut, find an able commander and send him out with a cohort of men to retake the wall,” Uuôden rumbled, looking at the lord as he came out behind him.
“Can I take command personally?” Fargut asked. The general immediately sighed and shook his head.
“The King has ordered that you and the others remain in safety here in the camp,” the general said regretfully. Fargut's eyes glittered. He'd heard the rumor but now he was angry at it. “I believe he wishes you near for your counsel,” Uuôden rumbled, trying to be diplomatic about the confinement. Art’ur didn't know what he was doing by ordering the Dominus's to heel like a hundur. They all now chafed and quietly raged over such treatment.
“I shall order it,” Fargut ground out, jaw set. He bowed slightly but didn't salute as he marched stiffly off. Uuôden sighed, watching him go and then turned as another messenger approached.
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Ginger Lewis made a brazen daylight run over the battlefield. She was there to assess the situation and take images, since the images she'd been taking from a distance and great height hadn't really helped the brass. It was a risk, one she knew all too well could cost her her life, but she also knew it was a necessary one. They needed accurate numbers and a better map of the terrain and of the enemy camp.
Besides, she thought with a grin as she banked... it would be fun to buzz the bastards and scare the ever living piss out of them. If she was lucky a couple of the branack beasts would collapse on someone.
She made one high east to west run and then circled around for another pass. This time she lined up on the duchy. She'd make sure she got as many images and video of that as she could.
Duke Emroy had taken the damage to the enemy to heart, and had not surrendered but was obviously low on supplies she thought, taking in the sight of the damaged but defiant castle below her. People were looking up at her in surprise. She flipped the window open and tossed a weighted scroll. It fluttered in the turbulent air around her aircraft before finding its way down to the ground. Awed people looked up at her, shading their eyes to watch but a clever lad went over and found the note and picked it up. She waggled her wings when they started to read it and cheered.
She made another pass, studying things. They were doing okay, holding out at least. However the Duluth army had set up machine gun crossbows, modeled after the ancient Chinese version on earth. They had a group of them set up just out of catapult range in front of each of the gates to prevent a sally. Cohorts of men and war beasts were behind the crossbows ready to take advantage of any opening.
She grinned at the enemy forces below her. Right in the center of the main camp she spotted one of her targets, a massive tent decked out with pennants and stuff. It screamed rich. There were others around it but this one had the most number of guards. That had to be the big boss. She grinned as she spotted someone coming out wearing a crown just as she flashed over. “Yeah, I think we have a winner,” she murmured to herself.
When the intel pukes back at the capital were certain it was King Art’ur's tent Perry sent Lewis in the ultra-light in a hair raising night mission to drop a satchel bomb onto it. It went off in a raging inferno but the King had not been there when it did. He was sighted later the next day injured but alive. He was however shaken and quite incensed over the airborne intruder. The ultra-light began to take fire when it flew overhead the next morning to assess the damage; Lewis had to fly out of bow range to stay in the air.
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Art’ur's reaction to the attack was brutal; he'd had the leader of his perimeter guard executed and half the fools who had been on duty that night. He at first thought it had been another raid. He cradled his arm, angry that he'd been burned trying to put the flames out. He'd lost four guards and a slave in the fire. It enraged him that the enemy could brazenly walk into his camp, amongst his men and do something like this. Were they all blind fools? He thought, savagely pacing.
But then there had been the reports of strange sounds in the night sky had many wondering. He'd heard the thing over his tent the day before but when he'd come out it'd been gone. His men had pointed but he'd only seen a speck, nothing more. Certainly not a large carriage in the air!
They'd seen some sort of strange thing flying about for several haftas. He had the reports, he hadn't believed them. Now in the clear morning air the perimeter guard spotted the thing from the sound and called in a warning. He looked up as the thrumming broke through his red hot rage. He came out of his newly acquired tent at a run, just in time to see the gray carriage with strange shapes on it fly by at less than a century fotter in height. Men around him were pointing at the thing and talking about it. He was immediately enraged and ordered it shot down. Unfortunately many of the bolts and arrows launched at it fell amongst his men.
He spotted someone, what looked like a woman inside the metal beast. The thing turned and climbed sharply when it came under fire. It left the way it had come. His eyes tracked it, narrowing as he deduced it was following the King's highway to the capital.
“Yipes!” Lewis murmured, getting out of the way of the cloud of arrows and crossbow bolts. “Someone's not happy to see me!”
<==={}------------>
The Terran trucks made daily runs for supplies, shipping supplies to the mines and then bringing back tons of metals from the mines and hundreds of pounds of food from nearby villages. The drivers were all Terrans, they took a different path to each destination mine each time, varying the route but trying not to hit the same mine twice in a week.
Refugees fleeing the raiders, and additional young volunteers eager to see the world and awed by the gaijin vehicles and technology rushed to the capital to enlist in the army. They began to fill the surrounding countryside with tents. Nearby lords sent additional levies of men and material for the army once their planting was complete. Only a few pieces of the army remained undone before they were ready to march. If their luck held they would have the final pieces before the summer solstice, their agreed day to march.
Ryans scanned the horizon, glad that Sue had made certain of proper hygiene practices and had overhauled many things the refugees and the armies were using to live by. But they still had a long way to go. They were still waiting on the last shipments of ammunition and the much anticipated war beasts.
“War is so wasteful. Whoever said war is glorious was a moron,” Ryans muttered. Perry eyed him, unsure where this was leading. He shrugged the questioning gaze off. “I'm serious. Look at this. Food, material, men and women, all being used to go out to kill them. A lot of it will spoil in the summer heat and be wasted. If they'd just put more effort into their own problem then they wouldn't have spread it here.”
Perry cocked his head. “War is the final act of diplomacy.”
Ryans nodded. Deidra came up behind him and listened. “Yeah, yeah, war is the mother of all invention, war is
the final act of diplomacy... it still sucks. Besides, to be a final act of diplomacy you have to have had some to start with!” he said waving his hands angrily. He shook his head. “This was their first act. All because of... ah hell, it just sucks. Stupid, just... stupid.”
Perry nodded soberly. “Yeah, it does. Misery loves company I guess.”
Ryans snorted. “Good one. I'm not sure that's ever been applied to a war but it sure fits.”
Perry nodded. “How are we doing on the logistics?”
Ryans smiled. “Better than I thought. “Max and Scooter said they've got another hundred muskets ready, and about twenty more Winchester rifles and ten more Springfields complete with scopes. We've got about a dozen more Winchesters in the pipeline already, that's a real bottleneck. Getting the parts together in the right size is a pain; we keep running into jams there. Same for the Springfield,” he grimaced.
“He said we've got about ten thousand rounds of paper cartridges, a thousand rounds of brass, plus a couple hundred bushels of clay and cast iron grenades,” Ryans reported. He shrugged. “We've got cottage industries sprouting up all over, mostly to use the molds to make musket balls out of lead and pewter. Max even got our first cannon and as you know it tested okay. He's made another bigger one, this one has rifling. They're testing it this afternoon.”
“This I gotta see,” Perry smiled.
“Yeah well, from a safe distance LT,” Ryans cautioned. Perry eyed him. “Cannons, especially early ones had a bad habit of blowing up and killing those near them.”
Perry nodded warily. “Good to know. Safety tip, don't stand next to the artillery.” He remembered that incident with the Springfield with a pang of regret. The kid who'd lost his eye had recovered but would never have any depth perception and had a fixed aversion to firearms. He was now in the logistics department. Which was funny, the kid didn't know how to read, write, or do math. Hopefully he'd get enough on the job training to be more than just a cargo handler.
