by David Drake
“Ships don’t need a port to land at,” Arnaud said slowly. His primary attention was on the console’s display. “They don’t even need water.”
“Some ships don’t,” Adele said. “The sort of ships and crews which are willing to make smuggling runs into Corcyra need something better than dry gullies, though. When you take Brotherhood, the rebels are isolated. Furthermore, if you follow up the capture by attacking the siege lines both with your ships and on the ground, you’ll end the whole revolt.”
Arnaud shrank the holographic display so that he could look directly at Adele. She turned her head to meet his gaze.
“Brotherhood has missile batteries,” Arnaud said. Though he was trying to sound dismissive, a note of hope had crept into his voice. “This plan says I’m to hop troops from here to Brotherhood using my ships. They’ll be massacred by missiles.”
“Captain Leary’s vessel is in Brotherhood Harbor,” Adele said. “When your ships lift, the two missile batteries will become nonfunctional. Captain Leary won’t act until you’re actually on the way so that the Corcyrans won’t have time to recapture the batteries.”
“By heaven,” Arnaud said. “By heaven.”
“Colonel Bourbon is in command of the independence forces again,” Adele said. She spoke without emotion; but then, she almost always spoke without emotion. “He plans to capture Hablinger by a nighttime assault before the missiles from Karst arrive. You know about the antiship missiles, I presume?”
“Yes,” Arnaud said bitterly. “But from my own sources on Pantellaria. The Council didn’t see fit to inform me of the approaches they’d received from Ischia.”
Adele nodded. “Bourbon believes that he can save the considerable cost of the missiles by taking you unaware,” she said. “He’ll shortly bring all the troops from Brotherhood here to the siege lines, which will make it easy for you to capture the harbor. Bourbon’s first action will be to withdraw the units at present around Hablinger to refit them, though.”
“If what you tell me is true,” Arnaud said, “then we’ve won. I’ve won.”
“In about two weeks,” Adele said, getting to her feet and putting the data unit away. “Perhaps less. I’m told that it will take you that long to get prepared, so you can’t even consider it a delay.”
She turned toward the door. “Mistress?” Arnaud said. Adele looked back over her shoulder.
“Mistress,” Arnaud said, “who told you how long it would take us to prepare our attack? This is not your plan?”
“No,” said Adele. “It’s the plan of Captain Daniel Leary. Corder Leary’s son, you’ll remember. When you threatened the Leary family, you brought a very good tactician into a provincial game.”
She touched the latch, then looked at Arnaud again. “I’ll contact you within forty-eight hours with more details,” she said. “I’m leaving an icon on your display. When the message arrives, open the icon and transfer the file I’ve sent to the file which you’ve opened. It will be decoded there.”
Adele closed the door behind her and started back through the camp. No one in the squad on guard spoke to her, but she felt their eyes follow her into the tents.
Hogg joined Adele when she was out of sight of the trailer and its guards. He didn’t speak.
“We’ll return by way of Point Three,” she said. “They have orders to pass us through without asking any questions.”
“Arnaud gave us a pass?” Hogg said. “I guess things worked out okay, then.”
He’d been concerned, Adele realized. Though he’d given no sign of that while the situation was in doubt.
Of course he’d given no sign of being worried. He’s Daniel’s man.
“Commissioner Arnaud’s console gave us a pass, Hogg,” Adele said. “I didn’t want to bother him with something so minor.”
Her mind was working on other things, now. There was a great deal yet to do before she and Daniel ended the war.
CHAPTER 25
Outside Hablinger on Corcyra
Daniel wished he could have found a quieter alternative for the temporary headquarters than the back of an air-cushioned truck, but there wasn’t one if the command group remained near the siege lines. There were arguments for moving the command group much farther back, but there were no arguments that Daniel himself would have accepted even if the other members were willing.
“Look, what are we waiting for?” said Administrator Tibbs, who certainly would have been willing to evacuate the command group. She wasn’t exactly wringing her hands, but seemed to be trying to strangle her attaché case’s handle.
Daniel smiled, though he looked up into the night sky rather than directing his amusement toward Tibbs, the real cause of his amusement. She can’t have understood how dangerous this really is or she’d still be back in Brotherhood.
“We’re waiting for an hour before dawn,” Colonel Bourbon said. “The time we set for the operation.”
“That’s only five minutes!” said Tibbs. “What difference would five minutes make?”
“Quite a lot of difference for the troops out there, since we told them 4:43!” snapped Lieutenant Angelotti. Colonel Bourbon had done a good job of hiding his frustration with the Regiment’s civilian head, but the naval lieutenant was younger and probably less politic by nature. “Jumping the gun puts their lives at risk. A lot of them are probably still in their dugouts!”
Tibbs grimaced, but she held her tongue instead of saying “Who cares about those scum?” or words to that effect. Angelotti might have slapped Tibbs if she had.
Daniel’s smile hardened. Indeed, I might have slapped her; but probably not.
“I don’t guess it’d make much difference,” said one of the miners morosely. He took a long pull from the liter bottle which he and his companions had been passing among themselves since they arrived. “Us folk don’t pay a lot of attention to what townies say, and we bloody sure don’t take orders from townies.”
The miners’ representatives this morning weren’t the trio which Daniel had met when he arrived at the siege lines five days earlier. These were all males and much of a type: thin-faced, wiry, and shorter than Daniel’s own five feet nine inches. They looked similar enough that they might have been grandfather, son, and grandson—they ranged from an apparent twenty to sixty—but from conversation, Daniel doubted they were related.
“They’ll be buried if they don’t listen,” said Angelotti. “And anyway, nobody gave them orders. It was just a warning.”
Angelotti was keyed up, though it wasn’t clear whether she was goaded by fear—she did understand the danger—or by hopeful anticipation. She was able to do her duty either way, Daniel supposed; and besides, she had nothing to do except be present. None of them really had anything to do.
The youngest miner turned and spat over the side of the truck. Spitting outward may have been an afterthought, which Daniel appreciated. Eight people standing in the back of a one-tonne vehicle didn’t leave a great deal of open floor.
“This soft dirt?” the miner said. “Why, that’s nothing! You ought to see a cave-in back where we come from.”
“Anyhow,” said the oldest miner, “I guess it’s their business.”
You couldn’t dig any depth into the Delta’s rich black soil without having the excavation collapse. The miners had simply adapted the system they used in their own tunnels to the situation: they used screw clamps to roll sheets of structural plastic into tubes—the diameter differed depending on the size of the sheet, but usually two meters—and welded the join. As they advanced the tunnel, they shoved the tube deeper and added segments at the surface end in the fashion of a well casing.
If a rock layer shifted it could flatten the tube, but the plastic was sturdy enough to withstand the more common problem of a flake—which might weigh tons—spalling off the tunnel roof. The sheets and forming equipment were available in quantity because they were in general use throughout the pro-independence territories.
Under most condition
s the plastic liners kept the besiegers’ dugouts here safe and even dry. Conditions were about to change; but as the miner had said, that was the business of the people who were at risk if they ignored the warning.
Bourbon hugged himself and grimaced. “If the Pantellarians knew that we’ve moved three quarters of our strength back,” he said, “they’d attack.”
“They won’t attack,” Daniel said. He cleared his throat while he decided how to phrase the next comment. “Officer Mundy would have given us plenty of warning—days of warning—if there were any chance of them attacking. We’re talking about the Pantellarians here, you’ll recall.”
“I don’t see how she can be sure of that,” said Tibbs, “but there’s only minutes to go. If the mine goes off, at least. What happens—”
She looked up at the others in the truck bed. Her expression had gone from peevishly nervous to sudden concern.
“—if something goes wrong with that? What do we do then?”
“There shouldn’t be any problem with the mine, mistress,” Brother Graves said. He sounded so calmly certain that his tone alone banished doubt. “It’s quite a straightforward operation, something I’ve done hundreds of times. Many of the others involved have laid thousands of charges.”
“You got that bloody right!” said the young miner. “Look, honey, if I thought you knew your job half as good as we know ours, I wouldn’t be near so worried about all this circus.”
“I think everybody here is competent,” Graves said, again damping a nervous exchange with his powerful calm. “And most important, I think Captain Leary and his staff are competent. You—”
He nodded to the miners.
“—and I had nothing to do but execute the captain’s orders. I’m confident that we’ve done so ably.”
Daniel had brought Graves here not as the Transformationist representative—Heimholz remained in charge of the sect’s field force—but because he was an engineer. Corcyra’s miners worked in hard rock, and few if any had any better notion of how to tunnel in the Delta environment than a boy at the beach would.
Graves had used one of the drainage pumps as an excavator, carving the silt away with high-pressure water. By sloping the entrance tunnel at a slight downward angle, the tailings flowed back and cleaned the work face without additional effort.
The only trick had been reducing the nozzle from fifteen centimeters to two centimeters to keep the stream sufficiently precise. Controlling the hose required six husky miners, and the teams had to be replaced every few minutes. There were plenty of men and several women available.
Besides, it made the miners feel good about their place in the independence movement. Miners had from the first provided most of manpower, but because of their individualism and lack of structure they hadn’t been involved in planning. Couldn’t be involved in planning, but miners tended to think that outsiders from off-planet were keeping them in the dark out of contempt.
Daniel’s smile became wry. There was a degree of truth to the miners’ belief, of course. People were complicated and generally further from perfect than one sometimes wished.
“Something’s funny, Leary?” Colonel Bourbon said.
“I was thinking that I wouldn’t have much place in a perfect universe,” Daniel said truthfully. “And that if all women were perfect ladies, I would have had a great deal less fun. But now to work, I think.”
Smiling broadly, Daniel keyed the portable communications unit clamped to the back of the truck’s cab. In speaker mode, he said, “Kiesche, this is Six. Report your status, please, over.”
The others in the back of the vehicle were staring at him. Lieutenant Angelotti pursed her lips and murmured, “Can the Pantellarians listen to that?”
“No,” said Graves without taking his eyes off Daniel.
Adele set this up so that we’re actually using the satellite link through Pantellarian headquarters, Daniel thought. The Pantellarians were intercepting and perhaps decoding ordinary independence communications, but they weren’t checking their own.
He didn’t say that aloud, because the others wouldn’t have found it reassuring. Besides, this wasn’t the time to discuss communications security with laymen.
Daniel rapped his knuckles on the roof of the cab to get the attention of the driver, a sergeant from the Regiment. It was their truck. Hogg sat beside him.
“Ammings,” he said, bending close to the open window into the cab. “Bring us up to full power. Hover if you can. And get ready for one hell of a ride.”
The intake flow built to a roar, and a bearing began to sing. The motor doesn’t have to survive long, Daniel thought at the back of his mind, but I sure hope it’s got another few minutes. Aloud he said, “Colonel Bourbon, would you push the button, please?”
“Not me, Leary,” Bourbon said. “This was your plan. You do the honors.”
Daniel thought, then smiled again. The obvious person to set off the charge was Brother Graves, but though the Transformationist was too nice a person to react to an insult, it certainly would be an insult to a man who strove for peace.
Instead, Daniel gestured to the eldest of the miners and said, “Sir, I think that the people who did the work should have any honor there is going. Will you press the button, please?”
I wish I’d heard his name.
The miner handed the bottle to one of his colleagues and took the necessary step forward to the communications unit. He looked suddenly diffident. He reached out, then looked questioningly at Daniel.
“Kiesche,” Daniel said. “This is Six. Wait one, over.”
He pointed to the miner and dipped his finger. The older man thrust down forcefully on the EXECUTE button.
Daniel couldn’t see what happened to the course of the river a mile closer to the Pantellarian positions because the truck was behind an angle of the levee, but he did see the enormous gout of mud and muddy water lift into the sky. An instant later the shockwave arrived through the ground, bouncing the truck like a tennis ball.
Five seconds later the deafening roar swept over them, but by then that was old news.
Brotherhood on Corcyra
Adele had realtime imagery of Hablinger in the center, but most of her display was given over to the commo threads she was following. Events in Hablinger would affect her, but she couldn’t affect them. She preferred to give her attention to things she could do something about.
“Kiesche, this is Six,” said the console. It was the signal they were waiting for. “Report your status please, over.”
“Six, this is Five,” said Vesey. “All is according to plan, over.”
Adele was at the back of the Kiesche’s console; Vesey was on the command seat. Adele was aware that Pasternak had lighted the thrusters, but only because the plasma exhaust put a buzz across the radio-frequency spectrum. Her equipment filtered it out, but the buzz was a factor in her conscious universe which the ship’s physical vibration was not. Adele’s body might have been aware of being shaken, but her mind was where she lived.
“Lady Mundy,” said Vesey, using a two-way link. “Is it all right if I talk to you, over?”
The first response that went through Adele’s mind was, “I’m busy, you idiot! I’m busy trying to keep Daniel from being killed!”
Adele heard the words mentally before they reached her tongue, fortunately, and the shock of embarrassment brought her to her senses. It was as unlikely that anything she was doing at the moment would matter to the Hablinger operation as it was that a meteorite would plunge from the sky and destroy the console at which she was working. To imagine otherwise was staggering arrogance, disgusting arrogance.
“Yes, of course, Captain,” Adele said. “Is there something in particular that I should be looking for? Over.”
“No,” said Vesey. “Lady Mundy—”
“Officer Mundy,” Adele said, correcting the ship’s captain in a fashion that she wouldn’t have dared to do if she hadn’t been “Lady Mundy” in her mind as well as in
Vesey’s. She smiled like a sphinx. But whenever possible Adele followed RCN protocol.
Whenever I think of it, I follow protocol. Which wasn’t as often as one might wish, but there wasn’t a problem so long as she served under Daniel, and Adele could not imagine serving in the RCN under anyone except Daniel.
“Officer, Adele,” Vesey said. “Please, I need to talk to you. To someone who understands and who’ll be honest, which is you alone on this planet. I need advice, over.”
“Go ahead,” Adele said. Perhaps I am Lady Mundy today, after all.
“Should I turn over command to Cory?” Vesey said baldly. “He’s a fighting officer—you know what I mean. Tell me!”
“No, you should not,” Adele said. “Captain Leary put you in command in his absence. I trust his judgment on such matters, and so should you.”
Because of the circumstances, Adele’s eyes were on the Hablinger siege lines. A tiny ripple crossed the image every few minutes, rather like an extremely slow raster scan. The signals were being sent from tramp freighters whose optics were mediocre by naval standards, even when the signals were sharpened by the Kiesche’s top-of-the-line console.
The Independence Council had sequestered three blockade runners and sent them into orbit under Spacer Hale and two lieutenants from the Corcyran navy—officers superfluous to the Freccia’s present needs. It wasn’t a surprise that the Pantellarian exiles ran heavily to officers rather than common spacers, nor that those officers had been unwilling to give up their ranks the way Cazelet had done.
Corcyra no longer had any imaging satellites. Both sides had made them targets as soon as the Pantellarian expeditionary force arrived, apparently for no better reason than that it was fun to destroy things. This wasn’t a war of movement in which orbital reconnaissance might be crucial.
The Pantellarians would probably send up destroyers to deal with the Corcyrans eventually, but the observation ships had lifted off from Brotherhood only an hour before the critical moment. No officer in the Pantellarian squadron was going to get out of bed before dawn simply because three blockade runners were loitering in orbit.
