by L D Inman
“Yes, my lord.” Douglas looked up from under his brows at Speir: she was recovering her color from the shock; her voice was steady, her eyes focused inward, gathering determination.
“Cartier, go assist Taronas, and tell him I’ll want his own assessment of our Boundary assets before and after this event. General Fleek, you will give me a quick rundown of the army’s disposition and then consult with Dearborn before the briefing. I want a shuttle on standby for takeoff, and if you can get through to Amity I want an escort flight scrambled within an hour. The rest of you will pull req lists and ordnance profiles for this location and be ready to report at the briefing. Dismissed!”
People stood up from their chairs and joined those standing in line to file out; the room emptied quickly, leaving only Fleek, Selkirk, Barklay, and Douglas. Douglas straightened up slowly and saw that Barklay, too, had risen to his feet.
Selkirk had not given Douglas a task or included him in Speir’s orders; nor did he order Douglas or Barklay from the room now. Douglas decided to wait and listen.
In the hall outside, buzzers began blaring in the Red Mark pattern.
“Fleek,” Selkirk said. Fleek obliged with a precis of the army’s various divisions and particularly their strength at Colmhaven, but did not get into much detail before Selkirk said: “Thank you, that will do for now. What have we got that can be deployed here in the next six hours?”
Three companies and a mobile artillery unit, it appeared. “Very good. You and I will detail those orders when we get back to Central Command. Go consult with Dearborn, and if you have time, tell Taronas what we want in case he can send that word ahead of us securely.”
“My lord.” General Fleek saluted and went out. Selkirk’s gaze rested on the space Fleek had just left.
“Barklay,” he said thoughtfully, “how long can Ryswyck hold a defensive position against a spearhead?”
“Infantry and bombardment? Hours rather than days. Depends how well their air corps can keep Amity’s hands full.”
“But we can bottle them up in the inlet.”
“For quite some time—especially if we have air support for the anti-aircraft emplacement on our western flank. Ryswyck will want auxiliary comm boosters—they’ll go for the tower if their scudders get up this far.”
“You have enough explosives to take out the airfield?”
“Yes. And the buildings, too, if necessary. We also have a signal arrangement with Benel Station to drop the dam works on the western side. Should slow the infantry down, keep them out of the south plains a while.”
“Good,” Selkirk said.
Douglas watched this conversation silently, concealing his own confusion. Barklay and Selkirk were talking as if the invasion had started here instead of Colmhaven, trading thoughts on a level above plodding logic, their enmity for the moment completely ignored. Then his wits caught up with them, and he drew in a long breath.
Colmhaven was a feint, he realized: designed to draw attention and assets north, and spread out the Boundary on the south coast. Once that had been accomplished, the real attack would begin—on the Boundary and Amity Base. Ryswyck, across the inlet from Amity and further inland, was barely defensible; if the infantry made it up here they would find it an ideal staging area to mass more forces and strike for the capital. Which made it imperative to get Selkirk out of here and back to headquarters, out of the immediate line of fire and into the command seat where he could make sure the feint did not work. But they could only thwart the feint if Colmhaven could hold out without Boundary support….
Officers began returning to Barklay’s office, some with tablets and guardbooks, and took up their positions on the walls and at the table. Douglas stood thinking, filling in the logical gaps in the wake of his leap of intuition. The only reason to attack Cardumel this close to winter was to engage enough Ilonian assets to immobilize them when icefall hit, knocking out any threat they could make to the south pincer, and if the Berenians were lucky, drive far enough south of the ice boundary themselves to complete a northern pincer attack. They’d land just enough infantry to hold the harbor, then take over the heated airstrips and mount scudder attacks from there. There wasn’t much air defense inland above the ice line; Cardumel and the Boundary were supposed to provide that.
The trickle of officers slowed; Speir came back in and found a place against the wall, her eyes still focused intensely inward. Stevens did not return by the time Rear Admiral Taronas came in and dropped a sheaf of notes before his place, mouth set grimly. At his appearance Selkirk quickly called the meeting back to order, and those with places at the table sat down. Selkirk kept to his feet, restless.
“The attack on our northern gate is a feint,” Selkirk said baldly. “I fully expect the main attack to begin on this coast as soon as we are seen to be sending troops or Boundary assets to Colmhaven. Taronas, did you tell Central to firm the line down here?”
“Yes, my lord. We’ve got comms back under new codes. I’ve set three lieutenants to helping Cartier handle everything that’s coming in, but I did get that message through and acknowledged on a secure line. Also, Amity has responded to your request for escort, and they’re scrambling a flight. It should be here in 90 minutes.”
“Good. Let’s defer further discussion of the Boundary till we’re back at HQ and have everything at our fingertips; alerting them to guard our southern flank will suffice for now. Dearborn.”
Room had been made for Dearborn to have a seat at the table. He had probably never made a report to this many high brass at once, but he went about it bravely. He was still pale, likely because the news was not good.
The attack had come at dawn, just before the change of watch at Cardumel and Colmhaven. A large flight of scudders had streaked in, seconds ahead of the alert put up by the beleaguered Boundary, and dropped attacks on Ilonian hangars before they could get the craft in the air. Soon after that, Cardumel’s com tower had fallen. Colmhaven’s anti-aircraft emplacements had taken heavy fire from the first wave of scudders, and by the time that wave had been shot down, the second wave was raining fire on the main block at Cardumel, guarding the approach of a landing party. Instead of evacuating, the surviving Ilonians had chosen to mine the GT lines supplying the airstrip and weather-tower complex; the explosions had been visible from the harbor, and the safeties connecting their GT network with Colmhaven’s had snapped shut.
The landing party, too late to preserve Cardumel’s assets for a spearhead attack, had taken their revenge by marching General Inslee and his surviving staff out to the airstrip in the face of Colmhaven’s viewfinders, and had beheaded them there. There, Dearborn reported, they still lay, as the fight for control of the harbor continued.
Ignoring the hiss of indrawn breath from around the room, Selkirk asked Dearborn to estimate how long Colmhaven could last at its current strength.
“If they take out the remaining guns,” Dearborn said grimly, “they’ll be able to land troops within two days. Colonel Marshall is asking for air support and ordnance as soon as may be, my lord.”
“Are they staging anything from Cardumel as yet?”
“Not when I left, my lord. I think Inslee damaged the airstrip profoundly enough they won’t be able to make much use of it. They’ll have to fly their scudders in from beyond the island; they’ve got a well-protected carrier servicing them, and the Boundary is doing its best to keep the carrier at long range. But they won’t hold indefinitely.”
In the sickened silence that followed, Douglas said: “Field-Commander Speir.”
At her place against the wall, Speir straightened to quiet attention. “Sir.”
He looked up at her, and their eyes touched briefly; hers were bright with grief and fury. “How soon can we expect icefall at Colmhaven?”
“Ten days at the nearest, Captain. Most likely fifteen.”
Selkirk stirred to look round at her. “Can the anti-aircraft emplacements hold out fifteen days?” Douglas asked for him.
�
��Depends how much ordnance they have, sir. And how many degrees of cover they can give one another. But I’ve seen Colonel Marshall’s maps, and it can be done provided he can spare enough personnel between maintaining the lines and evacuating the town.”
“Can the remaining guns at Colmhaven be flanked?” Selkirk asked Dearborn.
“Not as yet, my lord. But the emplacements are all receiving heavy fire.”
“My lord,” Fleek said, “if we’re going to get any overland relief to Colmhaven we’ll have to do it before those guns lose any more degrees of coverage.”
Selkirk stood poised, thinking with eyes narrowed. “We can spare the ordnance, but requisitioning, dispatch, and transfer from Killness will take too much time. How much stock have you got here, General Barklay?”
“Ryswyck’s store can spare it till the Berenians run their second phase,” Barklay said quietly.
“More time to replace it here than there,” Selkirk said. “Good. Captain Douglas, you will communicate with the officer in charge of Ryswyck’s stores and portion out whatever can travel safely on General Fleek’s shuttle. Fleek, you and your complement ride to the capital with me.”
Fleek nodded. Douglas said: “My lord, the supplies will want an escort. And Colmhaven will want to add to its people who know the ground.”
“You’re proposing to send Speir and her soldiers to Colonel Marshall.” Selkirk was calm.
Douglas had thought he was proposing to send himself as well, but from the instant of Dearborn’s announcement, he had grown ever more aware that he was separate in Selkirk’s thoughts. Unsurprised, he answered readily. “Yes, my lord. I am sure they will take the commission with alacrity.”
“That is so, sir,” said Speir, her gaze now deadly and level.
“Very well. Cardumel’s remaining troops will be seconded to Colonel Marshall as of now. You’ll prepare them to leave within the hour. Captain Speir.”
Speir swallowed. “Yes, my lord.”
As an ironic afterthought, Selkirk reached to sweep up Douglas’s captain’s ribbons where they had been left forgotten in the middle of the table. He tossed them to Speir, and she caught them neatly. “You can brief Colonel Marshall on this meeting. If I have any more for him I’ll send the dispatch with you.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“So,” Selkirk said to the room, “the longer we can hold off the northern attack without rearranging assets, the more we can delay the southern attack. If we can hold them off till icefall, we’ll have only one front to deal with. A fifteen-day window to survive a two-front attack. As soon as we arrive at Central, Taronas, Fleek, we’ll meet to coordinate defenses with Amity. Everyone dismissed.”
While Dearborn was giving his report, Douglas had seen Marag sidle in and take an unobtrusive place along the wall. Now, Douglas caught Marag’s eye and raised his chin in query. Marag knew what Douglas wanted. He nodded; slipped alongside Speir as she moved to the door, and murmured to her. They picked up Dearborn on the way out, and did not look back.
Selkirk, following this tacit exchange with dark watchful eyes, gestured Douglas to stay in the room, without ceasing to listen to what Taronas was telling him in a low voice. Then Taronas, too, joined the general exodus, every officer hastening to an urgent duty.
As soon as they had all cleared the door, Barklay rounded on Selkirk. “Let me take the mission.”
“No.”
“Let me take the mission,” Barklay said again.
“No! The mission is dead, Barklay. There is no mission. We can’t—”
“So then resurrect it.”
“—spare the resources, we can’t spare the assets, and we can’t spare the personnel. Did you not just hear what’s massing out there?”
“What’s to spare?” Barklay argued. “A handpicked team of twelve or so, a clear connection with our agents on the ground, and a sub cruiser to make the drop.” He spread his hands, a sharp gesture.
“And a dedicated comms team, and a cruiser and a retrieval unit on standby. No.”
“You don’t have to retrieve us,” Barklay said, coolly.
A silence fell as Selkirk pinned Barklay with a long, shrewd stare. Then he said: “The mission was scrapped before all the phases were fully developed. I doubt even you could make anything of it.”
“Give me the file and we’ll see,” Barklay said. And when Selkirk didn’t immediately answer, “Alban, you have people to defend this sector. You don’t have someone to distract Bernhelm—experienced enough to improvise—who knows the ground. Unless you send me; and then you have all you could want.”
“Cut off the head and the tail will still thrash around,” Selkirk said. “Wasn’t that your argument before?”
They exchanged a look of grim mockery. “I don’t propose to cut off the head,” Barklay said. “Just put a bag over it for a little bit. Give you a chance to get in position. You scrapped this mission for something, I’m sure.”
Selkirk took a brief moment to indulge in a weary sigh. Then, “Fine,” he said sharply. “I will brief you half an hour hence, and if something can be made of the mission I will take you with me back to the capital and you can plan it. If you can’t make anything of the mission I will still take you back to Central Command, and I will find some other use for you, if there is one. In any case, I will shortly be meeting with you, Captain Douglas—” Douglas had thought Selkirk forgot he was in the room— “so that you can get started turning this campus into an active installation and prepare it for defense conditions. Start making requisition lists now; I’ll review them after I’ve done with General Barklay.”
Surely that didn’t mean Selkirk intended to put him in charge at Ryswyck. Douglas resisted looking at Barklay, not only because he didn’t want Selkirk to catch Barklay looking gratified, but also because he did not want to betray his instant panic.
He said: “Certainly, my lord.”
“There is a tablet on my desk, Douglas,” said Barklay colorlessly, “with the information you’ll need to begin that task.”
The tablet he had loaded for Douglas—was it only last night? “Yes, sir,” Douglas said, looking at Selkirk.
“Go on, then,” Selkirk said. His voice was mild but his eyes were still watchful.
Douglas divided a nod between them, retrieved the tablet from Barklay’s desk, and made good his escape.
Marag and Speir had already disappeared, doubtless headed toward the arena complex, where the store tunnel access was located. He started that way, opening the requisitions file on Barklay’s tablet, but before he’d left the main hall, Stevens came in from the cloister and made straight for him. Two cadets dodged around him for the door.
“Marag sent me to find you. He said—” the Red Mark buzzers and lights cut off abruptly, and Stevens’s voice boomed in the sudden silence— “you’ll be wanting a review of our supplies.” Belatedly, he lowered his voice. “He said we should expect an attack here soon and you would brief me.”
“He and Speir were headed for the weapons stores, aye? Then I don’t need to go there yet. Marag’ll tell me what we send up to Colmhaven. You and I are going to the records room. Briefly,” he said, heading there with Stevens at his shoulder, “the northern attack is a feint. Selkirk thinks the real target is Amity. If we’re lucky we’re going to be staging our own troops here to defend the southwestern flank. If we’re not lucky, Bernhelm will be staging his troops at Ryswyck to attack the capital. Speir’s going back to Colmhaven with a small load of ordnance in an hour, Selkirk’s going back to the capital in an hour and a half, and he’s taking Barklay with him.”
“And leaving you in charge,” Stevens said.
A helpless gesture was all the answer Douglas could muster to that. “I need you to get the rota captains to—” Barklay’s office would be occupied— “the mess hall and brief them. We’re going to defense conditions for the foreseeable, so after the cadets have cleared the decks and dressed out for action, you’ll freeze the duty rotas at their current
rotation until the senior staff can form their teams. Have the rota captains pull the directives of their junior officer rotation, and each junior officer for the cadets in their squad—I’ll try to get Selkirk to open a window of time for the tower to transmit the orders to Central Records. I’m doing that for Speir’s unit right now.”
“Aye, sir,” Stevens said.
“Travel permits, travel permits…ah.” Scarcely a full day had passed since the travel permits had gone through for him and Speir and the Cardumel unit; they had been duly logged, names and ID numbers, at Ryswyck on their arrival. Douglas reached for the console and keyed open a line to the tower. Lieutenant Orla answered, her voice harried.
“This is Captain Douglas from the records room. I’m sending a runner with a chit containing the names and IDs of twenty-six people. They’ll need Central Records to activate their directives on file as they are headed straight to an active front. You’ll get more requests of the like very soon if you haven’t already, but they can wait until I get you some clear air for nothing but pulling directives. Do these ones first and then hold any others till you get orders from Lord Selkirk or me.”
“Yes, sir,” Orla said. While Douglas was speaking, Stevens ducked out of the records room. He was back with a cadet in tow in time to hear Douglas’s last order. The cadet took Douglas’s chit and darted out.
Douglas continued to Stevens as they left the records room: “Till Selkirk updates his orders for Ryswyck, you’re executive officer, Marag is supply officer, Beathas is tactics officer. The three of you are Ryswyck’s local council. Tell the other senior staff they’ll report to the three of you and sort them by their expertise. I’ll meet with you, and them, once I get confirmation from Selkirk and he departs. Call the rota captains’ meeting now and then get the word to the senior staff about the planning meeting two hours from now. I’ll try to make it to the mess hall for the rota captains’ briefing but I may still be in with Selkirk. Start without me if I’m not there.” Douglas made for the cloister door. “I’m going to catch up with Marag and then I’ll be in Barklay’s office.”
