Adar, wearing a grin, stood near the head of the central table, and his body language displayed pleasure as he spoke briefly with Alan Letts, Steve Riggs, Bernie, Ronson, and a late-arriving Ben Mallory. But Silva knew Adar well enough to tell when the dignified Lemurian was distracted by weighty matters. He controlled his blinking well, but his tail betrayed a measure of agitation. Ben’s appearance with a couple other guys Dennis didn’t know-including an army sergeant in grease-darkened coveralls that made him more comfortable about being there-seemed to be the signal to begin. A few moments later, Alan stood beside Adar.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Alan began, nodding at a small group of ex-pat Impie women in Navy dress who were probably ensigns or lieutenants in his new logistics division. Sitting with them was Alan’s wife, Karen, in her surgeon commander uniform. She didn’t have her new daughter, Allison Verdia, with her, and Dennis realized he hadn’t even seen the little scudder yet.
“We have a lot to go over, some good… and some not so much,” Letts said, confirming Silva’s suspicions. “We’ll get right to it. First I want to say how pleased I am at the results of the day’s testing, not only from a technical standpoint, but from the obvious good it did for the many spectators to see the results of their labor and sacrifice.” He turned to Adar. “Mr. Chairman, would you like to speak to that point before we proceed?”
“Absolutely,” Adar said. “I am told that not all the experiments resulted in absolute satisfaction for those who performed them, but with a few small exceptions, that was not abundantly clear to those watching. What was clear is that great progress has been made toward developing modern weapons of all types and principles that represent profound advances beyond what has already been achieved.” He waved a hand. “If some few of those weapons still require further development, none consider them failures. I emphatically do not, and I bear no doubt they will soon be perfected.” He looked directly at Bernie and smiled, blinking reassurance. “Your experimental ordnance division has made great strides, Mr. Saan-dison. I can scarcely believe it. You demonstrated new small arms, naval artillery, and three varieties of torpedoes today! All were successful, or at least succeeded magnificently in demonstrating what few defects remain to be resolved. You have my utmost appreciation and thanks, sir!”
Bernie stood. “Ah, thanks, Mr. Chairman. I appreciate it, and so will my division.”
Adar turned to Ben Mallory. “Colonel, I am astounded. Not only are there now eighteen fully operational ‘pee-forties’ ready for combat in all respects, but you have a sufficient pool of experienced aviators and ground persons to operate and maintain them-wherever they might be employed.”
Ben stood and looked around with a mixture of self-consciousness and lingering irritation. Dennis noted that Pam Cross was seated beside the airman, and wondered why his gut seemed to twist.
“Yes, sir. We’ve got eighteen Warhawks ready to go. The two we bent in training will soon be ready to fly again, one with those Jap floats”-he shook his head-“which gives us a P-Forty floatplane, of all things. The other thrashed its gear and prop, but we’ve got plenty of propeller blades. The gear was ruined, and instead of replacing it from salvage, we’re reconfiguring it as a fixed-gear, two-seat trainer.” He paused. “It’s probably a miracle, but only three of the twenty-four ships we made airworthy have been totaled. One went down in the jungle north of the city-we still don’t know why. Another ground looped and landed on its back. Mack’s ship was the only one lost in combat-if you count stepping in a bomb crater when he came in for a landing as a combat loss. As you know, all three of those resulted in fatalities.”
Adar nodded solemnly. “I mourn their loss as you do,” he said. “They watch us now from the Heavens they so briefly touched in this life!” He gazed at the awning above for a moment amid the murmured agreement before looking back at Ben. “The new planes are very impressive,” he said, changing the subject. Ben brightened.
“Yes, sir!” He grinned, justifiably proud. “I like ’em! They’re not as versatile as ‘Nancys’-they can’t carry a bomb load to speak of even with the guns removed, and they can’t land on the water-but as dedicated pursuit ships, they’re swell! They’ll be able to take off and land on a carrier or grass strip in a heartbeat. They’re fast and maneuverable, and don’t use much gas. Even with the current Blitzer Bugs, they can cut up a Grik zep and strafe the enemy on the ground. Mr. Sandison’s working on more powerful weapons to hang on ’em and that’ll make ’em even better. They’ll be good recon planes too, when we get some decent, lightweight, pilot-usable transmitters installed.”
“Most impressive,” Alan echoed dryly, “especially when somebody who probably shouldn’t be risking his neck in such a way puts them through their paces.”
Ben stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean? The Mosquito Hawks are as safe as we can make ’em. The air-cooled radial has almost nothing to go wrong with it, and pound for pound they’re even stronger than ‘Nancys.’ Don’t forget, I practically learned to fly in our Peashooters.” He glanced around. “Uh, very similar planes from our world,” he explained. “Anyway, I’m a lot more familiar with the design, and we’ve been testing ’em east of Baalkpan for the last two weeks.” He looked back at Letts. “Besides, nobody flies anything I’m afraid to fly, so yeah, I’ve pushed ’em around a little!” He shrugged. “But not today. For your information, this morning’s demonstration was performed by Lieutenant Conrad Diebel, formerly of the Dutch Air Corps, not me.” He nodded at the blond man seated nearby. “I was sedately coasting around in one of the P-Forties!”
“Braa-vo, Lieutenant Diebel!” Adar said. “A most exciting display! I presume you are settling in well… after all?”
Diebel, wearing an aging but still yellow-violet shiner, stood. “Yes, Mr. Chairman,” he said with somewhat rueful irony and a glance at the NCO in coveralls. “I have been… disabused of any misconceptions I may have harbored regarding the situation here. I am happy to serve.”
“Excellent,” Adar said happily. He looked back at Ben. “How many Mosquito Hawks are complete and how soon can we deploy them?”
“We’ve got six total, and four combat ready. The guys stood two of ’em on their nose, but nobody was hurt. They’re really light and landing will take some getting used to, especially since most of the new pilots are out of ‘Nancys.’ All they’ve ever landed on is water. Based on performance, I took the liberty of pulling the trigger on production, so they should roll out pretty fast. We really need rubber, though, for tires. We get that”-he paused, considering-“we can have ten a week in two weeks, and twenty a week in a month.”
“That’s much faster than ‘Naan-cee’ production,” Adar observed. “You do not mean to cut back on that, do you? As you say, ‘Naan-cees’ are versatile and popular with the Allied Homes-and we have promised many to the Imperials.”
“We don’t have to cut anything, sir, though I think we should concentrate more on the big ‘Clippers’ here in Baalkpan. With the Maa-ni-los making them too, we can’t crew ‘Nancys’ as fast as we make them. ‘Clippers’ aren’t B-Seventeens, but they’re the closest thing to a long-range, heavy bomber we’ve got. Besides, we need them as transports, to move people around. As for the Mosquito Hawks, now that we’ve done the heavy lifting development-wise, they’re less complicated in many ways than the others and require less than half the materials.”
“Indeed?” Adar said, but his grin faded. “Mr. Letts, perhaps it is time to reveal the not-so-good subjects we must discuss, so we may determine what to do about them. Colonel Maallory’s rubber is just one of many things at stake.”
“Yes, sir,” Alan agreed. He looked around the gathering, trying to meet as many eyes as he could, just as he’d seen Captain Reddy do so many times. “We’ve taken some hits,” he admitted at last, “and, as usual, it seems like everything has hit the fan at once. I know it’s impossible, but it’s enough to make you wonder if all our enemies somehow coordinated it. You all know about Mizuki Ma
ru by now, and the threat Hidoiame represents? Well, the Skipper and Walker will try to deal with her on their way back here.” He grimaced. “I wish the Skipper was already here and the hell with the Jap, but right now Hidoiame ’s like a fox in the henhouse-ah, like a skuggik in the akka aviary. She’s got to be stopped.” He took a breath. “What you don’t know, because we’ve kept a lid on it until now, is that not only has the First Fleet Expeditionary force slammed into a brick wall in India, but we’ve got reason to believe things are about to get a lot worse in the west. The Grik are on the move on land and sea. They’ve finally brought their new fleet up, and Keje says it’s a doozy. We have to move everything we can up to Andaman-planes, ships, ordnance, supplies, the works-and we’ve got to make it snappy. No holding back.”
He looked at Adar. “What makes this a little awkward at this particular time are two other things that just came in. The elements of Second Fleet have rendezvoused, and Commodore Jenks has assumed overall command in the east, but reconnaissance confirms that the Doms have occupied at least a part of the Enchanted Isles. It looks like some of the Brit garrison is still holding out, but its relief has taken on even greater urgency, and the situation has become considerably more complicated and potentially more costly. Add to that, we just learned that an attempt has been made on the lives of the New Britain Imperial family, as part of an apparent coup.”
Nearly everyone cried out and stood at that announcement. Despite an almost universal attachment to Princess “Becky,” all knew how disastrous it could be if the Empire suddenly dropped out of the war. Not because it had large forces in the west yet, but because nearly a third of the Allied fleet and personnel relied on the Empire for logistical support and transport of supplies. Besides, though perhaps not an immediate threat to the western allies, the Doms were a terrible enemy.
Alan held up his hands. “The princess is safe!” he assured everyone, “and in the care of loyal forces, including our own. Mr. Bradford is also safe and, as you know, has considerable influence with her. He should be able to help her cope with the current emergency. Unfortunately, we don’t know yet if her mother and Governor-Emperor McDonald survived the attempt. They were attending a session of the Court of Directors when some kind of big-assed bomb went off. The wireless station on New Britain went down at about the same time and most communications are currently via a very confused and busy station on New Scotland. Some traffic is getting through to our ships there, repeated by the new Midway station.”
The great Lemurian Home Salaama-Na, commanded by “reserve” Admiral and High Chief Sor-Lomaak, had been tasked to establish a wireless and fueling station on “Wake” Island, but when it was found to be even smaller than its “other world” counterpart and entirely without water, Sor-Lomaak proceeded to discover that Midway was bigger than expected and did have water, which was necessary for the establishment of any long-term, secluded outpost.
“Nobody, even Mr. Bradford, knows exactly what’s going on,” Letts continued. “Needless to say, rescue efforts are underway, but few survivors have been discovered so far.”
It took a moment for the shouted questions and roars of outrage to subside, but eventually, Alan continued. “Clearly, we must lend whatever support we can to the princess and we will, but with the situation in the west heating up, our resources are limited. In response to these various emergencies, Chairman Adar and I have asked Commander Herring to assess the situation in his capacity as the new Chief of Strategic Intelligence.” He gestured at a thin man still seated to his left. “Commander Herring, if you please?”
Herring stood. He was tall and still gaunt, but his expression was determined. “Most of you don’t know me yet,” he began. “But after acquainting myself with the situation here and abroad as best I can, I have wholeheartedly embraced the Alliance and its cause. I am honored by the trust that has been invested in me, and I plan to do everything in my power to perform the duties asked of me. In my capacity as CSI, I have proposed a list of things I believe we must and can do immediately, along with other actions I consider crucial to prepare and that, I frankly believe, have been neglected.” He paused, frowning in the surprised silence.
“Let me say now that you have all accomplished amazing things before I ever arrived. I recognize and stipulate that, so please don’t take anything I say as criticism. The actions I must propose to counter not only the immediate crisis, but also to lay the groundwork for long-term operations are the result of independent and, hopefully, objective study. No one here has ever been trained for strategic thinking, and you have done well within the limits imposed on you. But I believe some rather fundamental changes must be made regarding the future prosecution of the war.”
“Sorta puffed up, ain’t he?” Silva whispered aside to Lawrence.
Herring continued. “In the short term, as Mr. Letts has said, the most pressing emergency is in the west, and all available assets must be sent to salvage that situation. Hopefully, the circumstances in the Empire will stabilize, but there is nothing we can do here to influence that at present, beyond assurances of support. Even Saan-Kakja is too distant to render immediate material aid-if, indeed, it is required. Consequently, Second Fleet must make do with what it currently has, or what is already in the pipeline for the foreseeable future. Likewise, Captain Reddy is essentially out of the picture for now.” He smiled, a little smugly, Silva thought.
“We will, of course, continue to value any… suggestions he might make regarding the disposition of our forces, but we are on the spot and must ultimately decide those dispositions for ourselves.”
Letts calmed the angry murmurs that arose over that. Captain Reddy was still Supreme Allied Commander, by acclamation, and Silva wasn’t the only one who’d noticed the new CSI’s tone-and no one had “acclaimed” Herring.
“Hear him out,” Letts said. “He’s right. The Skipper isn’t here, and he wants us to think for ourselves!”
Herring nodded at him and continued. “We find ourselves in this current predicament as a result of shortsighted thinking and an acute lack of intelligence regarding not only the strength and disposition of the enemy, nor do we have even the most remote understanding of the situation beyond the world we know. These deficiencies must be remedied. We must push harder to obtain land, aerial, and even seaborne reconnaissance. I know this will be dangerous for those involved for many reasons, but that danger must be balanced against the even greater danger now faced by the Alliance due to less… diligent attention to this necessity in the past.” There was more uncomfortable murmuring, but Herring pressed on.
“I understand an expedition to meet and treat with… certain natives on this island has been planned, and I agree it must go forward without delay. Not only will we learn more about what is out there than has ever been known, but we might even secure more valuable allies with a unique grasp of Grik psychology, not to mention field craft!
“In addition, I recommend that another major expedition be commissioned to explore the world beyond the Grik and attempt to measure not only the true extent of their influence, but also discover what possible threats lie past their domain. For this I propose the use of the frigate Donaghey, now refitting at Andaman. Her captain, Commander Garrett, has demonstrated uncommon courage and adaptability and the ship itself, as with all dedicated sailing vessels, is not nearly as dependent upon supply-and honestly, offers limited further utility in the combat operations either planned or underway. Commander Garret should take her, and perhaps at least one of the razeed Grik corvettes, or DEs, as her consort and supply ship.”
“You’re saying Garrett and his crew are expendable?” Ben demanded sharply.
“I’m saying all of us are, in the grand scheme of things. With that in mind, however, and in light of the recent dreadful losses of men possessing… special knowledge, I think it’s time that such men, and even Lemurians they have trained, be interviewed extensively and as much of their knowledge be collected and recorded as possible before it is lost for
ever.” He looked at Adar. “I know a major effort has long been implemented to copy and distribute the many technical manuals and indeed every book that has survived. But we must go beyond that to capture the experience of men who know how to do the things described in the texts.”
“Okay,” Ben said, still standing, “maybe that even makes some sense. Why don’t we encourage everybody to write journals or something?” He paused. “But what do you want to do right now?”
“We must immediately reinforce First Fleet with all air and sea assets at our disposal. As I hear so often, we know nothing of the fleet the Grik and their Japanese allies have constructed. The Alliance has made great strides since last the two forces met. We must presume the enemy has done the same.” He looked at Alan. “I suggest considerable thought be given toward how to counter naval forces even more powerful than our own.”
“As you may have noticed today, we’ve already given that a lot of thought,” Letts said a little stiffly. “And Lieutenant Monk says Santa Catalina is about ready for sea.” Alan personally believed the newly “protected cruiser” could stand up to anything the Grik could dish out. Besides, Herring’s manner was finally starting to rub him a little raw as well.
“Of course.”
“So,” Ben asked, “by ‘all assets,’ do you mean all my modern birds too?”
“That is what I recommend. You demonstrated today that the new domestically produced aircraft should soon be sufficient to defend the city from any further air raids. I consider those unlikely at present, based on… what little real intelligence we have received from the west. In addition, Mr. Letts assures me that small cargos of rubber are on their way as we speak. They should be sufficient to finish a large number of… Mosquito Hawks.”
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