“His most Excellent Highness, Emperor Nig-Taak,” General Kim announced, and he and Choon both bowed. Greg and his companions saluted. “May I present Captain Greg Garrett, Captain Bekiaa-Sab-At, and Chief Boatswain’s Mate Jenaar-Laan of the United States Ship Donaghey, here on behalf of the powers allied against the dreadful Ghaarrichk’k,” Kim said.
“The powers we have sworn to join,” Inquisitor Choon pointedly reminded, surprising Greg again with his tone. Apparently, there’d been a different Choon hiding within the seemingly endlessly patient one they’d come to know.
“You are welcome! Welcome indeed,” Nig-Taak said, his voice soft and controlled. He blinked amused . . . perhaps annoyance at Choon. “It is good to see you safe, my friend,” he added, “and I have not forgotten our commitment to the Allied cause.” He waved. “But as you know, there has been a complication.” He looked at Greg. “And please, do not let the word ‘emperor’ mislead you. It is an ancient, honorary title—and implies perhaps that I have greater power than is the case.”
“You retain the moral power to honor agreements and lead your people in war,” Choon insisted. “The Senate can only advise on that subject. Please tell me that some preparations have been made to comply with Captain Reddy’s request.”
Nig-Taak blinked strong displeasure. “Some have, but as you know, the bulk of our armies are quartered here, as are most of our training facilities, factories, armories, transportation centers. . . . I can move nothing now without them detecting it! Sending spies ashore must have been the very first thing they did after they arrived. And with that . . . thing sitting out there in the harbor, threatening our city, I have been unable to send more troops and equipment to join those already deployed.” He suddenly stood, blinking profound frustration. “Those people know things!” He pointed at Garrett. “Things they cannot know unless your codes have been compromised in some way! We have sent no transmissions, so they must be spying on you as well. They arrived here knowing exactly what we meant to do, and for reasons I cannot fathom, have threatened to bombard Alex-aandra with their great guns if we lift a finger against the Ghaarrichk’k!” He held every gaze, then looked back at Greg. “As soon as they submitted their demands, they staged a demonstration of their power. I’m sure you, at least, can appreciate that if they bombard this city, thousands could die!” He looked back at Choon. “And the Senate does fund my leadership, as well as the armed forces at my disposal. I can do nothing more without their agreement, which they will not give.” He swished his tail. “Perhaps most mysterious to me is why on earth they would care if we attack the Ghaarrichk’k in the first place! It is maddening!”
“I don’t know, Your—Your Majesty,” Greg murmured. “But I can confirm, by their flag, that they’re the same goons we’ve run into before. You received the reports of the submarine Walker sank?” Nig-Taak and General Kin both nodded. “So their actions here do seem consistent with the behavior of the sub—that only attacked when it became clear that Madagascar was the target of the task force that went there. These strangers seem more concerned with thwarting the Allies than aiding the Grik.”
“But . . . why?” Kim demanded.
Greg shrugged. “I have no idea. Neither did anybody else. But that’s really kinda irrelevant right now. The Allies have taken Madagascar, and there’re millions of Grik frothing at the mouth to have it back. Captain Reddy’s expecting—has to have—a Republic assault to distract the Grik, and he’s going to need it quick. Why this is important to you, beyond the preservation of your honor, is that if he can’t hold Madagascar, make it an impregnable bastion of supply for the war here in the West, he can’t send forces to help the Republic—and everything will eventually fall apart.”
“But what can I do?” Nig-Taak demanded. “I have told you what is at stake!”
“And Cap-i-taan Gaar-ett has just reminded you as well,” Bekiaa said forcefully, speaking for the first time. “The Republic is already at war with the Grik. The presence of Amerika at the battle for Grik City has confirmed that, and if the Grik do not already know it, they soon will. If the Alliance loses, or even if it is forced back from Mada-gaasgar, the Republic will be left all alone.” She shrugged. “Why not destroy Savoie, and then proceed as planned?” She looked oddly at Choon. “I know you must be able to, and we can help. We have two aircraft struck down in Donaghey’s hold, and a modest supply of our new armor-piercing bombs.” She shrugged again. “Just sink the daamn thing and get on with it.”
When no one responded immediately, Greg suddenly knew that Bekiaa’s suggestion had already occurred to the people there at some point and been rejected, which meant they thought there was at least a chance it might succeed.
“Why not?” he asked. He looked at Choon. “You’ve been mum about an awful lot, particularly about your country’s military capabilities. I get that—orders. But now it’s down to it and we gotta move! If you—we—can get rid of that damn battleship and get on with the war, we have to do it!”
“I shall make this plain at last. Had we been able to communicate with you, I would have done so sooner,” Kim replied slowly, looking at his kaiser. “We may have the capability to ‘get rid’ of it, as you say, but the consequences to our people—and in the Senate—remain the greatest barrier to our finding the will to try.” When Nig-Taak said nothing, Kim continued. “As has been revealed—and is apparent,” he added sourly, “we are weak at sea. We have no fleet that can steam to the aid of your friends. We never even contemplated the need, and we mistakenly believed that the monitors were sufficient protection against any enemy entering our harbors. As we traveled here from the dock, Inquisitor Choon informed me that you ask a great deal about our aerial capabilities. Sadly, though we gradually began developing air-craaft some years ago, we saw no pressing need for them and are not as far along as you in that respect.” He stopped. “In any event, for the purposes of our alliance, we have a good army, well equipped. None of the members of our mission aboard Amerika, sent to find you, was told to conceal that the Republic is formidable on the ground, always on guard for threats from the north. Savoie does not bathe the city with light as she does your ship, and a boarding action under cover of darkness has been considered.”
“And rejected as too costly,” Nig-Taak interjected. “We have fast-firing weapons,” he confessed, “based on the ‘maaxims’ Amerika brought, that might suppress some return fire, but Savoie also has large numbers of similar, better-protected weapons. To achieve surprise, we could not evacuate the portion of the city that would be subject to indiscriminate fire from her maachine guns and secondary baatteries. The toll in civilian lives, not to mention one of our most important industrial quarters, could be . . . extreme.”
“A bombardment has been contemplated,” Kim resumed. “We do have excellent artillery, as has been promised.”
“I told him of your interest in the guns on the monitor,” Choon confessed to Greg. “They are powerful, and sufficient—we thought—for their purpose, but they are old now.” He flicked his tail. “We do have better.”
“Better, larger, and smaller, more mobile.” Kim paused. “Are you familiar with the ‘French Seventy-five’? I suspected as much,” he added, seeing Greg nod. “A variation of that weapon forms the backbone of our field artillery.” He shook his head. “So yes, we have considered a bombardment. We probably do have sufficient coastal defenses, some rather ingeniously concealed, to destroy or disable Savoie—but again, at what cost? His Majesty is right. If we open fire, Savoie will respond and the city might be destroyed. Thousands could die. Then there is another unpleasant fact to consider. Savoie’s presence and behavior might certainly be considered an act of war, but she has not actually harmed anyone. If we fire on her, there is no question that the Republic would be at war with whoever sent her.”
Choon took a breath, having apparently been waiting for this particular subject to arise. “I must submit, Your Majesty, that whoever
sent Savoie to intimidate us into abandoning our allies—there can be no other explanation—has already committed a grievous act of war against the Alliance by sinking Respite Island. They are therefore already at war with the Republic of Real People, if we truly do wish to be a full member of the Alliance and worthy of its friendship, respect, and above all, assistance.” He held up a hand. “The next question then would seem to be whether they do—or would—consider themselves at war with us whatever we do. Remember, for some reason it seems important to them that their war remain . . . indirect just now. Why would that be? Perhaps they are not as powerful as they seem?” Nig-Taak stroked the fur on his chin, deep in thought.
“If Choon’s right, that would raise a couple of options in my mind,” Greg said. “One, we attack without warning and sink Savoie. Your monitors converge under cover of a night bombardment from shore, maybe even giving me a chance to get my planes in the air. Then we hammer the hell out of the thing. We could do it. Maybe your city takes a beating, maybe not. If it does, that’s too bad. All of our cities have taken a beating, but you know what? That’s war, and you’re in this one already up to your eyes whether it’s touched you yet or not. The Grik will eventually see to that if we don’t kick their asses, no matter what Savoie does. But if we take her out and beat the Grik, we can face whoever sent her together when the time comes. He paused and waved his hand. “Second option, we send for somebody from Savoie to come here and talk.” He grimaced. “Anybody but that idiot Morrisette. Then we tell ’em to get the hell out or else. Call their bluff, if it is one. If it isn’t, it might go harder on your city, harder on my ship, but we’d still hammer them. If you really do have enough shore batteries to deal with her, your monitors might even still get their licks in because Savoie just can’t shoot at everything at once.” He looked around. “I may be wrong, but my guess is, if they were here to start a ‘real’ war, there’d be one by now. If not . . . they’ll go away.”
He stared hard at Kaiser Nig-Taak. “Either way, this can’t go on. We should either blow ’em out of the water, or tell ’em we will if they don’t scram.” He straightened. “I have . . . My ship has a mission, both to coordinate the war effort with you and to scout farther west.” He shook his head. “This current situation is utterly unacceptable, and we have to do something to change it. At the same time, I must respectfully remind you that the Republic has a mission too.”
Nig-Taak stared at Greg Garrett for a long time before he finally nodded. “Very well. It will be as you say. I shall summon the commander of Savoie, her ‘Contre-Aamiraal Laborde.’ It is early yet, and I expect he will come.” He blinked irony. “The man has always been scrupulously polite. You shall remain,” he told Greg, “but you must not be seen.” He sighed. “The meeting will not be lengthy, and you should easily be able to return to your ship, fully aware of what the day will bring.”
Garrett and his companions took refreshments and continued to discuss their plans with their hosts while they waited for a reply from Savoie. Sure enough, barely an hour passed before a delegation of officers arrived and was led into the “Peace Palace.” Greg, Bekiaa, Laan, and Choon all concealed themselves behind a tapestry hiding an alcove that Greg assumed must’ve been intended for exactly what they were doing—listening to a conversation they shouldn’t be present for. He grinned at the thought of the cliché. Sadly, they couldn’t see what was happening, but they could hear.
“Good evening, Your Majesty,” came a deep, pleasant voice with a French accent.
“I hope it might be, Contre-Aamiraal Laborde,” Nig-Taak replied evenly. “Forgive me for asking you here at this hour, but I find it increasingly distressing that you have not yet informed me how much longer you desire to remain our guests. The harbormaster’s complaints are growing quite tiresome.”
“I regret that I am still not at liberty to say,” Laborde replied. “As I have assured you many times, I am only here at the direction of my government, and must remain to enforce our . . . requests until I receive further orders.”
“Sadly, that is precisely the answer I expected of you. Very well,” Nig-Taak replied, his tone hardening. “Then I’m afraid the time has come for you to obey this order from me: your ship will be provided fuel, water, and provisions, beyond what you already daily demand,” he inserted bitterly, “and make all appropriate preparations to leave this place immediately. I must insist that I see your fine ship steam out of this port and beyond the horizon by sunset tomorrow. Is that perfectly clear?”
A stunned silence ensued, broken by Morrisette’s indignant voice. “You dare order us. . . .”
“Yes!” Nig-Taak interrupted. “I do dare. I am the leader, the kaiser of these people who, to a soul, are weary of your presence and the daily threat it implies.” He leaned forward. “You have been here a great while, essentially enforcing our inactivity, but I shall tell you now that we have not been idle! Enough time has passed that we have been able to quietly, carefully, make certain preparations to counter your threats, and if you disregard my warning, we must proceed to do so.”
“You threaten me?” Laborde demanded, his voice turning harsh.
“Warn. Consider it a warning from the harbormaster if you like, for reasons of state. You have overstayed your welcome, and it is time for you to go. If you do not?” There was the slightest pause. “I will have no choice but to enforce the civil laws against vessels loitering indefinitely in port, posing a menace to navigation, and monopolizing valuable space alongside a government and commercial pier. That is the warning I would give a friendly visitor. You, however, have behaved in a most unfriendly fashion, not only to this Republic, but to vessels calling at this city from other sovereign powers. One might even conclude that your actions are those of a belligerent nation and if you remain here beyond tomorrow, I will have no choice but to conclude that a state of war must exist between your people and mine, and act accordingly.”
“What on earth could you do?” Laborde murmured curiously while Morrisette and another officer ranted in protest. “After all this time I do not think you would risk your city or its people to a conventional contest.” He raised his voice over the others. “What if I tell you now that there is no possibility that I can accede to your demand?” he barked, apparently trying to rattle Nig-Taak, or make him reveal whether the timing of the demand might be critical to whatever the kaiser intended. “And I would feel compelled, if forced, to resist those sent to ‘arrest’ us on these ridiculous charges with every weapon at my disposal?”
Greg heard General Kim snort. “Then I must tell you, Contre Aamiraal, that the only difference it would make to you is that there would be fewer of your crew left for us to, um, take into custody.”
“Those few, of course,” Nig-Taak continued conversationally, “might then be subject to charges of murder—and death is the only possible sentence for that.”
Morrisette actually shrieked in outrage, but Laborde shushed him harshly. After a moment of quiet murmuring with his other officers, Laborde spoke. “You will have my answer at dawn. One way or another.” He turned on his heel and took several steps, but paused. Conveniently for Greg, it was in a place he could just glimpse through a slight gap between the tapestries. “All we have done since we arrived is try to save you from yourselves,” Laborde said stiffly. “This mad dash you make to join a war that is not yours is not rational. The Grik pose no real threat to you at present. They do not like this land and are currently occupied elsewhere—as you know.”
“The Grik are a threat to all beings, Contre Aamiraal Laborde, even you. And as you are clearly aware of the same reports as I, then you must know that this is the very first time, in all our history, that an opportunity has arisen to destroy that threat forever.”
Laborde glanced back at Nig-Taak. “You have great faith in your new allies, represented by that quaint little ship out there,” he said ironically, nodding in the general direction of the harbor. “You are
aware that they have other enemies? A power called the ‘Holy Dominion’?”
Nig-Taak said nothing.
“I should not tell you this, but my conscience demands that I inform you that the Dominion is aware of the Grik and has sent a delegation to meet with them and discuss, if not an alliance, then at least a cooperative strategy.” He shrugged. “A League, ah, ‘asset,’ detained that delegation for the same reason that we have lingered here; to prevent a wider war. You realize that is our only aim?”
“That may be one of your aims, Contre Aamiraal, but I must suspect the strategy behind it. If your League was so benevolent, you would gladly join us against the Grik—and the loathsome Dominion—instead of trying to prevent us from confronting them.”
Laborde’s expression almost seemed to flutter between a wide range of emotions before it hardened again. “If you spurn our protection, I doubt I can further justify preventing the Dominion mission from continuing on its way to meet the Grik,” he warned.
“Further proof that our well-being is not a priority of yours, Contre Aamiraal,” Nig-Taak ground out, his tone scornful. Laborde’s threat contained vital information, if that information was true, but he knew humans quite well and sensed the petulance, perhaps even desperation, behind it. “I am sure you will do what serves your interests best—as it most assuredly best serves Savoie’s interests to leave this place.”
“I think it should be clear to all by now that Savoie is here to keep us out of the war in order to contain the greater conflict within parameters they believe they can control—for their own reasons,” Inquisitor Choon said later, after the delegation had departed.
“And by so doing, they do protect Alex-aandraa, but why?” General Kim asked.
Straits of Hell Page 17
