East of the Sun, West of the Moon

by John Ringo

  "Major Herrick is a good officer," he allowed. "Do you know the major, sir?"

  "Never met him," the colonel replied, turning into a small building. He nodded at a heavy-set triari sergeant then opened up an inner door. "He's tighter than a gnat's ass," he added to the man behind the desk. "I'm not sure he'd have admitted his name if it wasn't sewn on his uniform." The colonel's accent had drifted away and his manner had become brusque to the point of rudeness. If the person in civilian clothes behind the unadorned desk took offense it wasn't apparent.

  "Good," the man said. "Sit, lieutenant."

  Destrang looked at the colonel who nodded.

  "He outranks me, lieutenant," the colonel noted. "Sit."

  "And are you a real colonel?" Destrang asked, coldly.

  "Very," the colonel replied, gesturing him inside and closing the door.

  Destrang sat carefully in the room's single unoccupied chair and looked around. The room was entirely unadorned and all there was in it was the desk, the chair for the occupant and the chair he occupied. The room also had no windows and was lit by a lamp. It was stiflingly hot.

  "My name is T," the man said. He was tall and spare with a shock of black hair. "You're wondering if I'm going to pump you about your mission. I am not. I know everything I need to know about it and if there's anything I don't know I'll get it from Edmund. I'm here to give you information. Some of it, frankly, is well above your level. So you're just going to have to be moved to a different level, lieutenant. If you had said so much as one word to Colonel Clifton, we wouldn't be having this conversation and you'd be out of Herzer's command before you returned. Clear?"

  "Yes, sir," Destrang said, uneasily.

  "Colonel Torill told you there was no information available about your opponents. There is, in fact, very little. I am going to tell you what there is available. Then I'm going to tell you what we suspect. Then I'm going to tell you why there is so little available, which means we're going to have to get into means and methods. Do you know what that means?"

  "Yes, sir," Destrang said, swallowing. Means and Methods meant that he would be told how information was gathered. Very rarely was such information passed to those who would use it, for the very simple reason that they might be captured and reveal sources.

  "T" sat back in his chair and sighed. "Frankly, getting into means and methods in this case is not that big of a deal. Especially since it's a litany of failures. But we will. Listen carefully because none of this gets put in writing. There was a meeting three days ago between Celine, Chansa and Reyes. A physical meeting which is believed to have taken place somewhere in Celine's domain. The agenda is not available but Reyes returned to his domains accompanied by a new orc, a Ropasa version orc, and one of their Changed elves for which we now have there name: Dark Ones. Very dramatic, very Celine and all that. Given that Chansa is tightly involved in the war against us and Celine never leaves her domains in person, it is believed that Reyes is, therefore, the designated Key-holder to be sent on the mission to recapture the fueling shuttle, Miss Travante's opposite, in other words."

  "Yes, sir," Destrang said, nodding.

  "Celine's involvement means there will be some of her monsters, but that was obvious. What they will be we have no idea. One of my analysts who specializes in trying to read her insane mind believes that they will be some sort of arthropod mod, similar to the scorpions that attacked Megan Travante. This is based upon her habit of...patterning in development. She tends to work in one particular kingdom or genus and then move to another. She initially centered around mammals, humans and elves along with a few others, there are some creatures we haven't seen here in Norau that were used in the Sind Wars, then moved on to upsizing reptiles and now seems to be working with arthropods, apparently having overcome the structural and metabolic issues with them.

  "But he's been wrong before. There will assuredly be orcs, but Reyes' involvement means that they will probably be Mod Two form orcs, you know the difference?"

  "No, sir," Destrang admitted.

  "Data on Reyes, what we have, and on his Mod Two orcs will be forwarded to you and Herzer by courier. They're referred to as Durgar for reasons that are too complicated to bother explaining at this time. Basically, they're physically lighter than Ropasan orcs, darker of skin and use different weaponry. They have some elven mods, but they don't have elven speed, strength or gaslan. They are a tad faster fighters and highly mobile on foot, not that that should be an issue on the ship. We have an unconfirmed report that some of them are being fitted with space armor. I'm working on getting more confirmation and, hopefully, a schematic of the armor, before you leave.

  "On the subject of Reyes, he's almost as much a mystery as everything else," "T" admitted. "He was recommended by Paul Bowman to replace Tetzacola Duenas who was killed in the initial council fight. But he was not an associate of Paul's prior to the Fall so someone else must have recommended him. He was one of the generals in the battles against Ishtar in Taurania, specializing in hit and run raids.

  "Physically, he is described as good looking and is generally a blonde. He has brutal tastes in women and maintains a harem, as Paul did, but no one comes out of it alive. His orcs are, if anything, more cruel than the Ropasan version. Letting any members of the team be captured, alive, would be unwise."

  "Yes, sir," Destrang said, gulping.

  "Now to what we don't know and why we don't know it," T said. "Celine has taken the domain along the Nira River, and it is now referred to in internal documents as 'Stygia' which is simply an ancient word meaning..."

  "Dark or darkness, sir," Destrang interjected. "One of the rivers of Hades, if I recall correctly."

  "You do," T said. "The river is flanked to the east and west by desert. To the north is the Toran Sea and the south is Frika, which is Chansa's domains. Crossing deserts is no problem, there is an animal called the camel which can cross them quite easily. So, to find out what was happening in 'Stygia' I sent a team on camels to reconnoiter, infiltrate and, hopefully, develop intelligence on her monsters before they hit us. The team did not return. Comments?"

  "Various reasons, sir," Destrang said, shrugging. "They could have been intercepted on entry, rolled up inside, etcetera."

  "So I thought," T admitted. "So I sent another team, telling them to be more careful on entry, the previous team had masqueraded as traders, be cautious in developing information and what have you. They never reported back. Comments?"

  "Ouch?" Destrang said.

  "Ouch, indeed," T said, his jaw flexing. "So I sent a third team. This one wasn't supposed to penetrate at all. It was just supposed to find out what was stopping the other teams. Since it wasn't there for intelligence gathering, I could choose virtually anyone. So I assembled a team of rogues, mercenaries, cut-throats, most of them convicted criminals. They were given the promise of freedom, and gold, if they just made it back with any information. One did. One. And he frankly admitted that what he did when they got hit was run like hell. So, what does Celine produce?"

  "Monsters," Destrang answered, shaking his head. "Sir."

  "Monsters," T replied. "What they got hit by was a pack of very large, poisonous snakes. The agent reported that they were larger than anaconda, partially armored and their fangs appeared to be metal since they went right through the unit's armor. They attacked from within the sands, apparently lying in ambush having determined the team's direction of approach.

  "Why the monsters do not wipe out the inhabitants is the question. And there are inhabitants. The Nira river is a trade route to inner Frika. Various materials flow down it, somehow, and it produces a surplus of food which is sent to the various New Destiny regions. It even trades with Ishtar's Tauranian domains. Caravans cross the desert. The caravans are guarded by very large...probably not Changed. They look to be uplifted gorillas or baboons, heavily modified to survive desert conditions. Extremely vicious and incredibly strong. Anyone or any thing approaching the caravan other than through permitted lanes is
killed without warning."

  "Uplift is proscribed, sir," Destrang noted.

  "A proscription that the New Destiny council has apparently overridden," T replied with a shake of his head. "None of the caravan drivers interact with anyone outside the caravan. The only contact is the caravan master and his assistants who are acolytes of Celine. I tried to penetrate the delta at the head of the Nira river using delphino and selkie. They survived, but only because the delphinos turned tail when they saw that the region was populated by very large sharks and something that they said looked very much like an extinct pleyosaurus. I haven't tried through Frika, yet. I'm almost afraid to think what she has there. That, of course, is where the Stanel Reactor resides. I can imagine what she guards that with."

  "Yes, sir," Destrang said, sighing.

  "They also use ships through the delta," T noted. "We managed to capture one of the sailors. However, when we started to interrogate him, a mark on his forehead flashed red and he died, rather horribly."

  "Shit," Destrang said, shaking his head.

  "So, tell Herzer that it's unlikely that I'll know what she is going to throw at him until, maybe, the last moment. I have observers around some of the reactors that they will use for extraction, but reporting back will be difficult. I will try to get the information, but I have a finite number of teams that are capable of what these men do and I won't throw them away lightly."

  "Yes, sir," Destrang said.

  "Stygia is an enigma wrapped in a puzzle," T mused. "I have no idea where Celine resides, where her labs are or, for that matter, how the place is organized. But I suspect the answer is: Horribly."

  "We'll know when we win, sir," Destrang said.

  "Yes," T said. "And I suspect we won't want to. We're done here, get back to Herzer. All of the information is his or Miss Travante's ears only."

  "Yes, sir," Destrang said, standing up.

  "The colonel will show you out."

  "Yes, sir," the lieutenant said, then paused. "Sir, is he a real colonel?"

  "He is now," T replied. "I had him appointed when he got back from the recon mission in Stygia."

  Chapter Thirteen

  "I'm glad there was a portal," Megan said as they stepped through the mirror-like doorway.

  "Otherwise you'd have to have made one?" Herzer asked, chuckling. The exit point was in the 7th Legion's camp, which was set in a valley in central Sylania, not far from the Sussan River. The camp was flanked to the east and west by high ridges but they were at least five klicks away. The camp was crowded with legionnaires training and tending to chores but the first thing they saw was a group of officers standing stiffly to attention. Clearly they were expected.

  "Countess Travante," a brigadier general in the lead of the group said, rendering a salute and then dropping it. "I'm General Eyck. A pleasure to have you in Camp Devil." As he finished the introduction the officers accompanying him dropped to parade rest, clearly on cue.

  "The pleasure is all mine, general," Megan said, taking his hand. "You know Commander Herrick?"

  "I haven't had the pleasure, ma'am," the general said, nodding at Herzer. "May I present my officers?"

  "Of course," Megan replied.

  Each of the officers was duly introduced and Megan shook hands and nodded as Herzer stood back and cooled his heels. Finally, the formalities were over and the general gestured towards the command tent.

  "I've prepared refreshments, Countess," he said, beaming. "And I was wondering if a brief tour of the camp..."

  "General, we just came from Washan," Megan pointed out. "We're quite refreshed. And we have our first briefing scheduled in less than an hour. While I'm sure I'd be fascinated by your command, I'm afraid that with our time constraints..."

  "I understand, of course," the general said, somewhat stiffly. "I wasn't aware that you were going to be part of the briefings..."

  "General," Herzer interjected, "with all due respect, all information regarding this mission is classified and, sir, with all due respect, you don't have need-to-know. There may be a later time that might be better."

  "Of course, Commander," the general said, tensely.

  "If we could get a guide to the training facilities?" Megan asked, placatingly.

  "Lieutenant," the general snapped, pointing to one of his aides. "Direct Countess Megan and Commander Herrick to the training facilities."

  "Yes, sir," the lieutenant said, bowing to Megan and gesturing down one of the streets of the crowded camp.

  "Herzer?" Megan said, as they followed the aide, trailed by Van Krief, Mirta and Shanea. "Military politics issue here?"

  "I think the answer is; it's complicated," Herzer replied. "First of all, I suspect the general thought you were accompanying me not part of whatever is going on and, therefore, had all the time in the world. Second, he's justifiably proud of his command. Seventh is listed as having a very high level of training; he's pushed them hard. And with the possible exception of Duke Edmund, I doubt that any Keyholders have inspected it and given him the ego-boos he'd like. Taking a look around at some point would be politic. Third, I doubt very much that he likes having to move his camp to protect the training facility. I'm not even sure he knows what we're training for."

  "There's that," Megan admitted as they came to what was effectively a camp within a camp. The facility was protected by a standard trench and wall palisade with a wooden gate. The palisade had a high, thin, wood wall so that no-one from outside the camp, except on the surrounding hills, could see what was going on. The guards were Blood Lords, dressed much like the legionnaires they had passed but with their armor and shields marked with blood red eagles instead of the devil face fronting of the 7th. Blood Lord units were rare since most of the training was devoted to inducting junior officers; the only facilities they guarded were those at their main base in Raven's Mill, Blackbeard Base in the Bimi Isles and now this base. Not only were there Blood Lords on the gate, but they could be seen patrolling the palisade as well.

  They were stopped by a sergeant who consulted a clipboard.

  "Countess Megan, it's a pleasure to see you," the guard said, flipping to a page. "Your picture doesn't do you justice. Lieutenant Van Krief, Miss Shanea Burgey, Miss Mirta Kupansky and Major Herrick. When were you promoted, sir?" the guard asked.

  "Three days ago," Herzer said.

  "Congratulations, sir," the sergeant said, with apparent indifference. "You're all cleared to pass. Lieutenant, thank you for directing them here."

  "This is as far as I go," the lieutenant said, smiling but with a touch of asperity. "Good luck on...whatever."

  "Thanks," Herzer said as the gates of the facility were opened.

  There was a dogleg made of heavy baulks of timber supported by thick pilings and backed by packed earth. It served to both turn any attacker through the gate and to prevent anyone seeing the facilities.

  When they cleared the dog-leg they were confronted by a camp not much different from that outside. The buildings were permanent structures instead of tents, but it was laid out much like any standard legion camp. The exception to this was at the center where a small lake was visible. There were buildings on the shore, a dock and a large building apparently built out over the lake stretching to near its center.

  "Hey, Graf," Herzer said as soon as they were in the facility proper.

  "Hey, Herzer," the sergeant replied, grinning. "Coming up in the world."

  "Edmund had to decide whether to charge me or promote me," Herzer said with a shrug.

  "Well, there's always killing you," Graf noted.

  "He keeps trying and trying," Herzer snorted. "Like now. I'm soliciting volunteers, by the way."

  "Not on your life," Graf replied. "I wanna live to spend my pay. Vaston will show you to your quarters," he added, gesturing at one of the guards on the inside of the gate. "After that, you'll need to go by camp security and get your badges."

  "Badges?" Megan said.

  "We don't wear them on the gate," the serg
eant said, reaching into his armor and pulling out a badge on a lanyard. It was blue paper encased in plastic and had a rather bad picture of the sergeant on it along with his name and ID number, but not rank. "But you have to have them to move around the camp and to get back in if you go out. Both entrance and exit are restricted. You, ma'am, obviously have free run, although you'll be required to show your badge in various areas. But your aides will require specific, written, permission, to leave the camp or return."

  "I see," Megan replied, musingly.

  "What's with the lake, private?" Herzer asked as they proceeded through the camp.

  "Sir, we're pretty careful about what questions we ask," the private replied, tightly. "The short answer is: I don't know. And I don't want to know, sir, if you get my drift."

  "Got it," Herzer said. "Good answer."

  They seemed to be the only people stirring in the base and Herzer realized that with the exception of themselves, the guards and whatever support personnel had been scraped together, the camp was empty. He'd never looked at the total of the slain but the scorpions must have killed over a hundred highly trained personnel in their attack.

  The quarters, when they reached them, were in a two-story wooden building that showed all the signs of hasty construction. The room Megan was shown to was probably one of the best on the base and it was furnished with a small couch, a single bed, a footlocker and a small kitchen area, all in one room. It had its own bathroom, consisting of a porcelain sink, a commode and a shower.

  "Sorry, honey," Herzer said, looking around the room and shrugging.

  "Well, they haven't been wasting funds on accommodations," Megan said, shaking her head. "It'll do. I have to wonder what the guard barracks are like."

  "Bays, ma'am," Vaston replied. "Thirty to a bay. And there were only half the guards that we've got here, before, so we're hot-bunking about sixty to a bay. Most of us sleep outside anyway; it's bloody hot in the barracks."

  "Sorry I asked," Megan said, shaking her head. "And sorry you're cooped up like that, private."