Devil's Due (Destroyermen #12)(62)
“The enemy was not as indisposed as Kurokawa led us to believe,” Esshk reminded through long, clenched fangs. “I am not even positive he achieved a victory at all, as he claimed.”
“Such is difficult to gauge,” the Chooser huffed, reluctantly conceding Esshk’s point as he tried to match his lord’s longer strides, “particularly considering how long it took us to even learn of the battle. Time during which the forces around Lake Nalak were bombed, not once, but twice! If the enemy was as devastated as Kurokawa claims, could they have accomplished that? Would they still patrol the Go Away Strait, making it difficult to supply our secret”—he snorted—“forces sent to assail the Celestial City from the south? I think not. And it’s only a matter of time before the prey bombs Sofesshk itself. I already warned what might happen then.”
Esshk had to agree. For the moment, his and the Chooser’s power was absolute—in the name of the newly elevated Celestial Mother, whom all knew wouldn’t be fit to actually lead for a considerable time. Several years, at least. Both had decided that would never happen. Their lines, comingled with the Giver of Life, would hold supreme authority as Champions and Choosers behind the Celestial throne forever. Such “reform” was essential if their race, and any semblance of normalcy, was to survive the war—and all the other reforms they’d been forced to institute. Again, largely due to Kurokawa, Esshk had discovered what the Chooser’s order had always known: there was no observable qualitative difference between hatchings, and his order had existed primarily as a means of population and thought control. They’d need that again, when the emergency passed.
But for a time, for the first time, rule of the Ghaarrichk’k Empire depended to some degree on the consent of its subjects. The regents, and even the Hij of Old Sofesshk to a lesser extent, might still combine against Esshk and the Chooser. And though the new army had been thoroughly conditioned for absolute loyalty to Esshk above all, even the Celestial Mother herself, it was more . . . perceptive than any similar number of the race had ever been allowed to become. That would be valuable on the battlefield, but afterward? Esshk firmly believed only he—and the Chooser—could deal with what came next. But the Chooser was most concerned about dissatisfaction among the Hij, perhaps to the degree Regent Ragak had displayed, if bombs fell on Sofesshk City. Particularly Old Sofesshk.
“We have already moved part of the army into the city,” Esshk reassured patiently. “It is steadfastly devoted to me, and will tolerate none of the dissatisfaction that causes you such distress. And we have dispersed the transports as well. It is fortunate they can be dragged up upon the land.”
“It is fortunate we moved them when we did, because the prey focused its bombs on the covered docks protecting them during their second attack.”
“And accomplished nothing.”
“True, but they knew something important must have been in them. Now they doubtless know whatever it was, it is gone! And the transports, made of green wood, cannot stay long upon the shore. They will not float when we need them to.”
“It won’t be long,” Esshk stated more firmly.
“We should use them now,” the Chooser urged forcefully, glad he’d spiked his crest. It would’ve fluttered with irresolution otherwise, and he’d made the same recommendation each time they spoke. He knew Esshk found it tiresome.
Esshk stopped pacing and turned with a deep sigh. “Must I explain again?” he demanded. “Must I constantly remind you which of us is the general? Very well.” He held up a finger, the long talon like a shiny black sickle. “As you know, our advance force in the south of Madagascar was discovered and has . . . suffered setbacks. The local prey fights them, supported by weapons and advisors from the Celestial City. At the same time, as you say, that force grows more difficult to reinforce and supply. The enemy may have few ships in the strait, but they are sufficient to interdict our barge traffic and their lumbering tugs. There are now also flying machines patrolling for them as well. The advance force may never even survive to accomplish its mission. Certainly not with surprise, as planned. I think”—Esshk gently caressed his throat with his claws—“we may have to abandon that endeavor. It is pointless to keep wasting New Army troops and their precious equipment, most often destroyed before they even complete the crossing, on what increasingly appears a forlorn hope.”
“All the more reason to launch the Final Swarm now, while some of that force remains to distract the prey!” the Chooser persisted.
“The enemy is distracted!” Esshk countered. “Not only by Kurokawa, but this other prey, the Dominion he told us of”—he sniffed—“at last.” He considered. “But that does bring us back to communication. Since we can no longer dispatch ships from here to carry messages, we have relied on runners up the coast to take passage across the water between the mainland and Kurokawa’s sovereign nest. That takes too long. I know he has a quicker way, but has never shared it,” Esshk brooded. “I will not forget that,” he added darkly. “I will quicken the process, however. Our swarm of airships is dwindling,” he conceded, “and our raids on the Celestial City show little result. Perhaps . . . perhaps it is time we ceased those as well? I must consider that. But in the meantime, we will establish a relay between here and the main airship nest up the coast that the enemy has never found. Airships will, in turn, carry messages from there to Kurokawa’s nest, shortening the time it takes to send and receive them to a mere two days! No longer will the General of the Sea be able to plead ignorance of our desires and intentions, or use that as an excuse for ignoring our commands. At least not if he wants to keep the oil and other material support he so desperately needs flowing from the mainland. And I will demand a further distraction from him soon,” Esshk added. “That will be the time to act! When we can properly coordinate our actions.”