Iron Gray Sea d-7

by Taylor Anderson

  “You may secure your searchlight, Mr. Stumpy,” Jenks said, then raised the trumpet to his lips again as the searing beam faded. “Make a light of your own,” he instructed the men on the cutter, “and we will follow you in. Be quick about it; there is no time to lose!”

  Achilles, Mertz, and Tindal moved alongside the government docks, where their lines were secured by excited, willing hands. There was some confusion and considerable shouting back and forth between Tindal, Mertz, and the shore, since the two screw steamers didn’t need the long boom bumpers that Imperial side-wheelers required-and, of course, there was considerable surprise when Lemurian Marines began streaming ashore and demanding cooperation and assembly areas from stunned locals who’d never seen a Lemurian before. The ’Cats were accustomed to Imperials, and humans in general, so it was no big deal to them, and Jenks was relieved and impressed by the way they deflected a potentially tense time by simply and professionally carrying out their assigned tasks with occasional reassuring shouts of “Don’t worry about it, fellas. We’re on your side!” The mixture of well-fed, fresh-uniformed Imperial Marines helped, no doubt, but the long-suffering garrison of the Enchanted Isles was surprisingly willing to take them at their word and any fear that Elizabethtown was being invaded by “creatures” was short-lived.

  “Admiral Jenks! Admiral Jenks!” came the excited shout of a thin man dressed in bedraggled civilian clothes, pressing his way through the disembarking troops with a small, wide-eyed escort of equally thin and somewhat shabby garrison regulars. “Sir Humphries’s factor for Admiral Harvey Jenks!”

  “Here I am, sir,” Jenks said, striding down with Captain Blas, Stumpy, and some other officers in tow. Stumpy wore a Navy khaki kilt and T-shirt and still carried the ’03 Springfield he’d had since Saint Francis. Blas wore her blue Marine kilt and the new camouflage battle dress with the tie-dyed tunic and painted rhino-pig armor. Her black cartridge box and bright Baalkpan Arsenal musket were ready for business.

  The civilian looked at her, his dark eyes stilled by wonder before fixing on Jenks. “Lord High Admiral!” he said, and bowed, removing the large tricorn from his head. “Your… astonishingly delivered message was received with great relief, sir, but I frankly confess a personal unpreparedness for the appearance of the allies you mentioned! I thank God for them, and no mistake, but they are not the only surprise. There would also seem to be a battle in the north…”

  “Indeed. Where is Sir Humphries?” Jenks demanded.

  “He awaits you yonder”-the man pointed-“beyond the press. He craves that you enlighten him further about your plans.”

  “Take me to him, and I shall do so at once.”

  “Of course.” There was just enough light upon the dockyards to see the factor’s expression change. “A word first, sir. The governor is… not the man he was. None of us are, I fear-our resources and resilience have nearly reached the bitter end. But Sir Humphries has suffered even more than most, for many reasons.”

  Governor Sir Thomas Humphries had been a cheerful, corpulent man, devoted to his studies of the natural world, when last he and Harvey Jenks met. He’d been an effective governor of this tenuous outpost-in his spare time, he’d often joked-but in reality, there hadn’t been much for him to do, and the Enchanted Isles had been the perfect posting for a man of his interests. Seeing him now, Jenks realized Sir Humphries had changed as much as anything else he’d ever known before he met the Americans, before the war began. Where once Humphries would have been fascinated by the appearance of the Lemurians, now his eyes darted fretfully back and forth in the gloom. He was no longer overweight or cheerful either, and seemed to wear his former self like a baggy suit.

  “Damn me, Jenks, it is you conducting this circus!” the diminished man managed, gazing about. “Thank God you’re here! Too late for so many, I’m afraid-my poor tortoises! — but here you are at last. The princess?”

  “Safe, Sir Humphries.” It occurred to Jenks that the last the governor would have heard of him was his expedition to seek the lost princess, and there was no way he could know of all that transpired since. Some few ships had escaped the Enchanted Isles to report that the Doms were coming, but apparently no word had made it back until the leaflets were dropped. Well, this wasn’t the time to catch him up on everything.

  “Thank heavens the dear child is safe,” Humphries continued. “I met her once, you know? I believe she was two or three. Couldn’t possibly remember me…” His voice trailed off; then he spoke with more energy. “I’ve read of these ape folk, of course, in the Founders’ logs. You’ve found them again, have you? However did you train them as troops?” He paused, scrutinizing Blas. “And females! Extraordinary!”

  “Sir Humphries, I cannot even begin to tell you all that has occurred these last months in the time we have, but these”-he nodded at Blas and Stumpy-“are not ape folk; they are Mi-Anaaka, or Lemurians, and firm allies of the Empire against the bloody Doms. And honestly, sir, if anyone has been training troops, theirs have been training ours!”

  “Extraordinary!” Humphries repeated. “Are there tortoises in their lands? There are none left here, you see, except for a very few I could not bear to see eaten. But the Doms have all the other islands, and the tortoises and other creatures that lived on them were different, unique!” His expression became desolate. “All gone, most likely.”

  “A great tragedy, Sir Humphries,” Jenks said, “but we must look to the present for now.” The transports were coming alongside the dock. “You have noticed the battle in the north? Our troops are landing there as we speak under the command of a most able officer, but we must land more forces here to march to his relief as quickly as we can. The enemy will have turned to face him and may yet retain the advantage of numbers. If we strike quickly across the frontier you have maintained, we should catch the enemy in the rear, perhaps even while he is redeploying.”

  “What remains of our garrison is in no condition for an attack,” the factor said doubtfully.

  “I expected that,” Jenks agreed, “but if you shift all you have to face the enemy beachhead in the east, surely it can no longer threaten the city here. We will destroy it at our leisure. Once the sun is up, our aircraft-”

  “Aircraft? You mean the flying machines that brought your note?” Humphries asked, seizing upon the unfamiliar word.

  “Yes. A gift from our allies. They will bomb the enemy in the east and prevent resupply. Soon the Doms there will be in worse straits than you were.”

  “Extraordinary,” Humphries muttered. His sunken eyes grew earnest. “Your… Lemooans. They will not eat any tortoises they stumble across? Perhaps a few others have survived?”

  “You have my word, Sir Humphries,” Jenks said gently.

  “Sir,” Blas said to Jenks, motioning at the transports. “Colonel Blair will soon be ashore.”

  “Of course. You have duties. Good hunting, Captain, and God bless.”

  “Thank you, sir, and may the Maker be with you.” Saluting the governor, Blas backed away, then darted through the jumble of forming companies.

  “Extraordinary,” Humphries repeated again, watching Blas depart. “Such a polite little thing.”

  Jenks smiled. “I assure you, sir, the enemy will not think so.”

  Nancys started landing in Elizabeth Bay by early afternoon. Most of these were damaged to some degree, by ground fire or Grikbirds, but some were just low on fuel or out of ordnance. They gathered around a tender to be refueled and rearmed or hoisted out of the water for repairs. The citizens of Elizabethtown lined the shore, watching the strange machines come and go, as fascinated by the Nancys as they were the people who flew them. Supplies were landed on the dock to be distributed among the people. Guards stood around the bales and crates, but hungry as the people had to be, there was no rush, no misbehavior. The island had been relieved and there would be food. They could wait a little longer. The wind carried the sound of the great battle in the north, but the same wind swept the thunder of
the closer battle in the east completely away. The only evidence of the fighting there was the quick return of aircraft that flew in that direction, and the steady trickle of wounded that wound back down the high-pass road.

  “Doc’Selass,” daughter of CINCWEST Keje-Fris-Ar, flew down from the fighting in the north to tend the wounded in the city and take charge of the local hospital. There was the usual resistance by Imperial doctors, but when Jenks commanded that Selass, as personal physician to the Imperial family, be obeyed in all things medical, indignant obstructionism turned to skeptical observation-and soon enthusiastic cooperation. Human and Lemurian physiologies were strikingly similar, but Selass had grown quite familiar with the differences as well. She was far more qualified than any local physician, particularly when dealing with battle injuries, and when the curative powers of the Lemurian polta paste were explained-and confirmed by Selass’s Imperial assistants-her former rivals became willing students and helpers.

  At nightfall, Jenks trotted up the steps of Government House with Admiral Lelaa-Tal-Cleraan and Orrin Reddy in tow. Lelaa matched Jenks’s energetic steps, even though her massive ship had been in the thick of the fight since before dawn. Maaka-Kakja ’s great guns and aircraft had pounded the surprised and horrified Doms in ways they’d never imagined. Maaka-Kakja had taken a few light hits herself, mostly by heavy roundshot dropped by Grikbirds-but new countermeasures rendered Grikbirds less of a threat to well-protected ships and aircraft than they’d been before.

  Orrin was dragging a bit. He’d flown many sorties that day-before flying Lelaa here. He couldn’t stop yawning. Jenks had never even approached the front as the battle raged. Forming and sending troops forward had required all his efforts and he was just as tired as Orrin, but nervous energy kept him going.

  Sir Humphries’s factor met the trio at the top of the stairs and led them inside to a sitting room where the governor sat hunched in a chair, a large brandy at his elbow. The garrison commander was seated beside him, his white tunic with red facings was stained and rumpled. Jenks glanced around. Frankly, he’d expected a larger reception. He bowed to the governor, and the garrison commander stood. The factor edged around the room to stand behind Sir Humphries, who remained seated, staring at the once-lush carpet at his feet.

  “Sir,” Jenks began, looking at the sitting man. “May I present Admiral Lelaa-Tal-Cleraan, commander of the Naval element of Second Fleet?”

  “How charming,” Humphries said softly. “Another Lemooan female! And a Naval officer, damn me!”

  “And this is Orrin Reddy, Commander of Flight Operations. It was his aircraft you saw today-and that the enemy have learned to fear so much.”

  “Indeed?” Humphries asked, a spark igniting behind rheumy eyes. “Flying machines might be of great use in locating tortoises!”

  The garrison commander cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I am Colonel Alexander, and am most pleased to meet you all. As you may have gathered, the situation here had grown quite dire. Another mere week would have seen the end of us.” He cast a quick glance at the governor. “Many have suffered, in a variety of ways.”

  Jenks looked at the man. “Then you will appreciate the honor it gives me to announce that Albermarl Island is secure and your suffering is over. General Shinya and Colonel Blair have pushed the remnants of the northern invasion force against the base of that smoldering hill on the northernmost point. It cannot escape and has no choice but to surrender or die.”

  “The Doms’ll send ships! More men!” Sir Humphries barked desperately.

  “No, sir,” Jenks gently assured. “Our air power has sunk or burned the bulk of the enemy fleet at Norwich Bay on King James Island. He has nothing left there to send.”

  “But… what of the murderers to the east, just across the isle, that threaten us here in Elizabethtown?”

  “We pounded ’em all day from the air, while the garrison”-Orrin nodded at Alexander-“kept ’em pinned on the beach with nowhere to go. It was like shootin’ fish in a barrel, poor bastards. They’re in the same boat as those up north: quit or croak.”

  “They might slip men across under cover of darkness!” Humphries insisted.

  “They could, a few,” Orrin agreed, “but then they’d be stuck too. If I was them, I’d try to pull my people out in the dark.” He paused. “But that’ll be tough. We control the strait between the islands, with DDs and searchlights-”

  “DDs?”

  “Frigates,” Jenks said. “Mr. Reddy is right. In a few days, there will not be a free-or live-Dom on Albermarl, and more of our troops and ships will be coming all the time. Soon, this island will fairly shudder beneath the weight of the force we will build to invade the Dominion itself and destroy the murderous threat it poses forever!”

  “Extraordinary!” Humphries said with a trace of his old cheer at last. He peered intently at Orrin. “You are a… rider… of flying machines?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You have flown over this isle? And King James Island, perhaps?”

  “Ah… yes, sir.” Orrin decided not to mention he’d been shot at the first time.

  “Amazing! To see the world as a bird-or those horrible Dom dragons see it… I can only imagine.” He took a gulp of brandy, suddenly excited. “Did you happen to see any tortoises at all?”

  CHAPTER 24

  March 25, 1944

  Rocky Gap

  General-Queen Protector Safir Maraan, her silver-washed armor dented and tarnished, her black cloak torn and stained, stood in her command tent, staring down at the map before her. She wasn’t really looking at it anymore; the image was intimately familiar, and besides, she could hardly see through the kaleidoscope of amber tears colored by the guttering lanterns. Colonel Billy Flynn had saved her tail in the Saa-lon highlands and had since become an excellent friend. Now he was dead, along with nearly all the Marines, Rangers, and Sularans that had been with him-and there’d been nothing at all she could do. She’d been stuck here in this useless Rocky Gap for more than a week now, her own troops dying in front and behind while supplies and munitions dwindled. She looked into the east, through the open tent flap, where the Sacred Sun would rise above the high crags and bathe the gap with light, and said a silent prayer for Flynn and his lost command.

  Somewhat selfishly, she thought, she also said a prayer of thanks that her beloved Chack-Sab-At was safe in Maa-ni-la, working up his new elite force instead of in this bone-grinding pit. She feared she might have lost him too if he’d been here-perhaps with Billy Flynn. The 2nd Marines had been Chack’s, after all.

  “Maker preserve him. Preserve us all,” she murmured at the first graying streaks in the eastern sky.

  A knock came against the tent pole, discreetly beside the flap. “They are here, my gener-aal,” said a low voice. It was almost unnaturally quiet outside, Safir realized. Ammunition was low, but the Grik were not short. They were shifting their forces, she knew, but she hadn’t expected the silence.

  “I am coming,” Safir replied. She took a breath and stepped outside.

  Colonel Enaak, commander of the 5th Maa-ni-la Cavalry, stiffened to attention at the sight of her. Another trooper, one she knew well, fought against his exhaustion to stand straighter at his side.

  “Cap-i-taan Saachic, reporting as ordered, Gener-aal.”

  Without a word, Safir moved forward and embraced the trembling Maa-ni-lo, the tears finally spilling down and wetting the blue-black fur on her face. “Thank the Maker you are safe! When Colonel Enaak told me you made it through, I could hardly believe it. Come. Sit inside, and tell me what you saw. Orderly!” she said louder, “bring refreshment!”

  “At once, my gener-aal!”

  “Col-nol Flynn, all those we left behind, must be lost,” Saachic said miserably after a long gulp of seep-laced water. Safir had offered him a stool instead of a cushion because she didn’t want him to drift off to sleep. The small torture of the stool struck her as less cruel than waking him after his ultimate crash would be. �
��We were surrounded; no way out. Col-nol Flynn had a plan, but it didn’t work. He tried to save everyone…” Saachic was rambling, and Safir tried to focus his thoughts.

  “ How did you get out?”

  “Ahh… most of the Grik pulled away to reinforce some movement against you-” Safir looked meaningfully at Enaak. Now they knew where the sudden influx opposite their lines came from. The scouts had seen no approaching column. “And we tried to break through those that remained,” Saachic continued. “It might have worked- should have worked against the Grik we fought before, but these are not the same.”

  Safir and Enaak nodded. They’d noticed that as well. Somehow, the Grik were finally becoming soldiers. Not all of them had… transformed, but enough had done so to keep them bottled up here, and their defense-a concept they’d all thought utterly alien to the Grik-was only growing stronger.

  “The breakout stalled,” Saachic murmured. “The col-nol ordered what remained of my cavalry to make a run for it, carrying as many others as we could. His final effort… the sacrifice of all who remained, was…” He paused, glancing at Safir. Aryaalans and B’mbaadans were not followers of the prophet Siska-Ta. “It was a tale for the Sacred Scrolls,” he finished, almost defiantly.

  Safir nodded. “I’m sure it was,” she assured him. “But having broken out, how did you make it here?”

  “Eighty of our beasts, most wounded to some degree, survived until we reached the mountains north of here with the morning. Most carried two or three persons and there were almost two hundreds of us.” He stopped a moment, shaking his head and blinking uncertainty.

  “Two hundreds?” Safir asked. Saachic had entered 2nd Corps’ lines with five riders. “Did you meet more Grik?”

  “There were no Grik, but we could not find a pass. It was then that we met… other riders.”

  Enaak stood. “Other riders! What other riders?” he demanded.