Devil's Due (Destroyermen #12)(68)
Lelaa blinked thoughtfully, her tail swishing beneath her white kilt. She’d been thinking about something Orrin once said. . . . She shook her head. Now wasn’t the time. “A careful, methodical approach, then. An unusual straa-ti-gee indeed,” she murmured. Jenks started to bristle, then realized she was blinking irony. “And I aa-gree,” she added. “We must also support General Shin-yaa—and Governor-Empress Rebecca and Saan-Kakja. Not knowing what lies beyond the paass, who’s to say something won’t prevent us from returning? That could make things . . . awk-waard for us, and do our ground forces no good. On the other haand, if we destroy the enemy at the paass and land troops there, they might support General Shinya’s effort to stop Don Her-naan. If he caan’t stop him, we might be the laast chance to cut him off from New Graa-nada. We caatch him between our forces, and he caan’t run anymore. He’d have no choice but to fight or surrender. Either way, we could finally break his army and throw all the Doms into confusion.”
“Yes,” Jenks said, twisting his mustaches. “I’m almost tempted to suggest that General Shinya let Don Hernan escape for now, so we can do exactly that.”
“But . . . we might fail,” Lelaa said flatly. “What if we caan’t take this side of the Paass of Fire and land troops?”
Jenks was nodding. “And that’s exactly why Shinya must continue as before, trying to block the enemy while slowing him and herding him with Sister Audry’s and Colonel Garcia’s tiny TF Skuggik Chase.”
“You mean Major Blas’s taask force?” Lelaa had nothing against Sister Audry, but everyone knew who was really in command.
“Yes, I suppose I do.”
“So, our plaan is?” Lelaa asked.
“When we’ve gathered our full strength, we’ll move against the pass and destroy what remains of the enemy. We will not fail. Only once we have firm possession and can fully and sustainably support operations ashore will we try to push through. By then we should have aerial reconnaissance as well, and know what lies on the other side. Information the NUS might be grateful for. If we could then, finally, coordinate our efforts . . .” His voice trailed away.
“Then I only hope, in the meantime, Generaal Shin-yaa gets his forces in place at Popayan in time to block Don Her-naan, for everyone’s sake, but particularly Major Blas, Sister Audry, and the rest of their little force pretending to be an army.” Lelaa’s tone turned bitter. “I can only imagine what kind of chik-aash they’re enduring, while we stand here, safe and sound, discussing how they should be used.”
“Shinya’s almost there,” Jenks assured, trying to lighten her mood.
“Almost? Blas has what? Thirty-five hundreds of troops? Against forty thousands? More?”
“I think she has around five thousand now, counting the locals she’s collected,” Jenks said weakly.
“So many?” Lelaa snorted sarcastically. “And ‘almost’ will not help if Don Her-naan realizes he has a flasher fish on his tail instead of a mountain fish, and chooses to turn on it.”
Jenks nodded sadly. “Indeed. But if Don Hernan does that, despite General Shinya’s personal feelings, it will still give him more time—and serve his purpose just as well.”
TF Skuggik Chase
Between Kotopaxi and Popayan
(La Frontera Horribles)
November 10, 1944
Major Blas-Ma-Ar, sometimes still called “Blossom” behind her back, waited tensely in the damp, drizzly, predawn dark. And it was unnaturally dark, deep in the dense, mountainous forest of the Horrible Frontier, as the locals described the almost trackless, foliage-choked wilderness between widely spaced villages in this part of the Dominion. And in addition to the thick overhead cover, there was no moon, and the stars couldn’t penetrate the lowlying overcast. Blas wasn’t alone, however, and heard the soft sounds of men to her right and ’Cats to her left. The men were Vengadores, former Dom soldiers converted to the “true” Christian faith by Colonel Sister Audry, whom they adored. Counting the recruits from Guayak, Puerto Viejo, and the Christian Rebels under “Captain” Ximen who’d joined them on the march, Colonel Arano Garcia’s regiment of El Vengadores de Dios had swelled to a brigade of more than three thousand men and women. The Lemurians belonged to Blas’s own 2nd Battalion of the 2nd Marines. It had once grown to regimental strength itself, but had been whittled down in fierce battles to fewer than seven hundred, fit to fight. They had a few more men and ’Cats, from other units of the Army of the Sisters, mostly artillerymen and support personnel, and there was still a tiny remnant of twenty horse-mounted Imperial dragoons, primarily messengers back and forth to the new wireless station at Kotopaxi almost a hundred miles behind. They traveled the heavily trampled and hewn-down path that Don Hernan’s large army, then Blas’s TF Skuggik Chase, made in passing, but mounted scouts were useless for probing the enemy on the impenetrable flanks of the ragged trace. For that they had squads of Ximen’s Christians and Captain Ixtli’s Ocelomeh, or “Jaguar Warriors.” They’d lived in this dense, claustrophobic environment full of terrifying predators for generations, and knew every meager game trail well enough to give them names. Finally, the Ocelomeh also added nearly twenty-five hundred troops to the task force, armed with good-quality Imperial flintlock muskets and their own edged weapons.