Devil's Due (Destroyermen #12)(79)
“Immediately, and at great length,” Courtney replied with satisfaction. “There was no waiting about, cooling my heels. He seems most sensible to the need for haste, at last, and made a most positive impression. I saw no lingering trace of shyness for the fray, and believe his Assembly, his Senate, was most responsible for that. Even they are convinced at last that the Republic may not simply ride this out, and hope to survive. For all the other trouble Savoie has caused, she helped in that at least: making it abundantly clear the Republic needs allies. Some remain unconvinced the Grik pose an immediate threat, but know they must help destroy them if they don’t want to face a suddenly more hostile world all alone.”
He paused to watch the Gentaa laborers, mildly satisfied. “Despite our lengthy consultations, I did find a few moments to explore”—Bekiaa glanced at the bells on Courtney’s hat and blinked sympathy at his keepers—“and I’m quite satisfied that the myth of the Gentaa is precisely that: a legend, a fable, a fabricated folktale, perpetuated most vehemently by the Gentaa themselves. They are, in fact, an entirely separate species. Perhaps they arrived much like we, from another earth in the distant past. They maintain their position here, quite lucratively—particularly now, when you consider the sums being devoted to logistical preparations—by playing on the societal guilt of both their parent species!” He chuckled. “I can’t help but admire their enterprise, if not their cultural veracity. Some are quite wealthy, you know, in quiet, inconspicuous ways, and all are cared for in their retirement. This, while the poorest humans and Lemurians are reduced to begging in the streets.”
“That’s no real secret,” Optio Meek said lowly, glancing around, “but it’s simpler ta ‘believe’ the myth, as ye call it, than confront the buggers. If we tried ta break their monopoly, it’ud shut the country down.”
Courtney pursed his lips. “Well, I suppose you’re right, as things now stand. But I’m personally gratified to have one of my theories about this world borne out.”
“That’s all very interesting, Mister Braad-furd,” Bekiaa said, her tone growing impatient, “but what did you an’ the Kaiser talk about? When do we shove off?”
Courtney nodded at a Lemurian officer returning from the station office and lowered his voice. “That gentleman bears dispatches commanding General Marcus Kim to begin his advance as soon as we arrive.” Bekiaa shot a meaningful glance at Meek. They were out of time. Hopefully, Kim was smart enough to save the new arrivals as a reserve, or replacements, they could instruct on the march. “Inquisitor Choon rolled up quite the network of human spies, you know,” Courtney continued. “From the wretched League. But he can’t have gotten them all, and the telegraph is particularly suspect. So, as not to alarm the League and possibly give them the opportunity to alert others, the go order is being carried by hand.” He smiled rather wistfully. “Very soon, we’ll all board that train together and proceed to Fort Taak. As quickly as possible after that, we’ll open yet another front in this dreadful war and more people will begin to die. Please God it will herald the final campaign.”
CHAPTER 11
////// Mahe Island
November 11, 1944
Purple clouds stood against a golden horizon as dawn swept across the crowded anchorage on the east side of Mahe Island. Ships of every description, large and small, had collected there, some tied to brand-new docks, with others “docked” to them. More were moored away from shore, and a few were even secured to the several ship-size islets jutting from the waters of the cramped lagoon. Half of the eight PTs in Lieutenant Nat Hardee’s MTB-Ron-1 were motoring about, transferring people and supplies, while the other half served as mobile channel markers. With the new boats that came aboard the SPD, there were eleven in theater, but Nat left three to patrol off Grik City. And as crowded as the little harbor already was, with Salissa, Tarakaan Island, and Andamaan’s massive shapes, USNRS Arracca and USS Santa Catalina still lingered there. The latter two, along with their flock of escorts, now constituted TF Bottle Cap and were preparing to steam south and take station off the mouth of the Zambezi. Santy Cat and the battlegroup would protect Arracca while she added her planes to the air attacks on Sofesshk and the heavy Grik ships nearby.
Before they left, however, they’d have to find a bit more room. The brand-new fleet carrier USS Madras, exactly like her sunken sister, Baalkpan Bay, except for the dazzle paint scheme she’d been given—like Andamaan, Arracca, and even Big Sal now wore—was creeping into the anchorage. She’d refuel from the large storage tanks that had been hastily built and concealed from the air. She and her battlegroup, as well as Andamaan, would await orders to embark I and III Corps, head down to pick up II Corps, then launch the invasion of Grik Africa.
When all that would occur depended largely on reports from Jumbo’s Pat-Squad 22, Bekiaa-Sa-At, and now Courtney Bradford, with the Armies of the Republic of Real People. The latest word was, the Repubs had begun their offensive but something was screwy with it. Basically, so far, they hadn’t found any Grik. So the newest tweak to the strategy was that the First Fleet Expeditionary Force had to cool its heels and hold its assault until the Repubs were thoroughly “noticed” by the Grik. The enemy was already massed at Sofesshk, so the Repubs had to be the first diversion. Nobody was happy about that, but it made the most sense. The only consolation was that it couldn’t take the Grik too long to discover they’d been invaded. . . . Could it?