Devil's Due (Destroyermen #12)(25)
“That we got damn little at sea to stop anybody,” Silva growled thoughtfully.
“True. Or to move what’s here. And that is true. But not as true as they think, based on what they saw in the bay. What else?”
Safir waved at the sea of tents. “That we are strong on the ground?”
“Also true”—Matt smiled—“if less accurate. But mostly he saw what I wanted him to—that we’re all here, including both corps that made it through the Battle of Mahe.”
“But,” Safir hesitated. “Only Second Corps is here. First and Third are still at Maa-he.”
“Exactly,” Matt said. He gestured the Maroons closer. One was named Will, and had seen fierce fighting at the Wall of Trees. His regiment of Maroons had since doubled to brigade strength as more of his people filtered in to be armed with “maskits” and join the fight. “Based on Jumbo and Leedom’s recon flights to Sofesshk, we may have an opportunity—and not much time to take it,” Matt explained. “Maybe our only—and last—chance to win this war,” he added soberly. “That’s why Chairman Letts”—Matt couldn’t hide a slight, wistful smile at the memory of the gangly, sunburned, lieutenant (jg) who first reported aboard Walker in Cavite before the old war back home—“gave the go-ahead to our plan. Colonel,” Matt said when Will stood before him and saluted.
“Cap’n Reddy.”
“You’re now in direct contact with Corpor—” Matt smiled. “I mean, Colonel Miles, to the south, both by radio and runners.” Miles and his Shee-Ree had found a nice, level place along the bank of a wide spot in the West Mangoro River, upstream from where they’d engaged the Grik, and fashioned a passable airstrip simply by scything down the tall grass. Since then, several Fleashooters had flown down, laden with a few small arms and their own machine guns, which had been removed before they returned to be rearmed. And one of the Clippers had made two trips full of muskets and ammunition, landing and taking off from the river. Matt wanted their new Ju-52 trimotor to carry much more—once it was deemed airworthy. “What’s your assessment of his reports?” he asked the Maroon officer.
Will frowned. “Aye, an’ thar’s a heap’a Gareiks a-camin’, as ye saed. Miles an’”—he shook his head almost unbelievingly—“the mankey falk”—he glanced apologetically at Chack and Safir—“them Shee-Rees, is nippin’ at ’em an’ the march. But tha’ll lakly git hare in a manth er sae—thaugh twixt the nippin’ an’ the jangle buggers tha’ll hae laft half thar army’s banes fer tha rats tae gnaw.”
Matt looked like he’d followed Will’s tortured English fairly well. “And if they arrive with, say, fifteen thousand, can you and your men—and the Shee-Ree training here—hold the wall alone?”
Will’s brows arched but he nodded. “Aye. We’s may hafta abandon tha two cities alang tha coast we’s gardin’, but wit’ maskits an’ big gaanes—an’ tha trainin’ ye’ve gave us—we’s’ll kill that many Gareiks wi-oot nae trabble.” He paused. “Ye’s . . . ye’s abandinin’ us?”
Matt shook his head. “We’ll never abandon you,” he said with sharp finality. “The Maroons, and now the Shee-Ree, are as much ours as anyone we brought with us, as far as I’m concerned. And several companies of our best troops will remain to give you a hand, just in case. But it’s time for us to go on the offensive.” He looked at Safir Maraan. “So though we’re not abandoning Grik City or our friends, most of us will be leaving when First and Third Corps arrive here, and embark Second Corps.” He looked back at Will. “But we’re not leaving the fight. After we finish some . . . other business, we’re taking it where the Grik live. Up the Zambezi, all the way to the enemy anthill. Sofesshk itself.”
“Than tayke us tae!” Will objected, but Matt shook his head.
“We still have to defend this place, and who better for that than the people who live here?” Matt regarded Safir and Chack separately, with an expression deeply apologetic. Silva realized it was the first time he’d seen the Skipper radiate anything but fury in many days. And he also understood the emotions at its heart. “I hate to split you two up again,” he said simply. “God knows you’ve spent enough time apart. But I need you in different places. Hopefully, it won’t be for long this time.”
Chack blinked understanding and, with a nod from Jindal, stood slightly straighter. “My First Raider Brigade will be ready for whatever you require of it, Cap-i-taan Reddy,” he said.
“As will Second Corps,” General Queen Safir Maraan assured. Then she blinked fondly at the mate she outranked on so many levels, but the heirarchy couldn’t have mattered less to either of them. “You brought us together in the first place, and always reunite us. Chack will help return that favor to you and Lady Saandra while the rest of us prepare to make a world fit for us all to live in.”
Matt could only nod. “Very well,” he said briskly. “We all have our assignments, it seems. Second Corps and the indigenous forces detailed to defend the city will remain here, while Chack’s First Raider Brigade embarks aboard Santy Cat and Arracca for Mahe. Just as soon as that thing”—he nodded at Leopardo—“is well underway. Within the next few days at the latest. Arracca and Santy Cat will then steam south to the mouth of the Zambezi and start raising hell.” He smiled at Safir. “Some time after that, we can’t know exactly when, the Republic of Real People will begin its offensive in the south. It may take Esshk a little time to get word of that and try to respond, but when he does, General Alden will come down here with First and Third Corps to get you, and you’ll proceed with the invasion of Sofesshk together. You’ll be in complete command here until then, but after that”—he turned to Will and nodded slowly—“you’ll command the defense of Grik City. You,” he stressed. “Not your cap’n or anyone else who might try to pull clan rank. Is that clear? You’ve learned our ways, and I trust you to get along with all our people here. You can let others advise you, and by all means make use of the Shee-Ree and their unique communications network. But you’ll be the senior Allied officer. Is that understood?”