Devil's Due (Destroyermen #12)(83)
“’Ajor I’joorka, ’Urst North ’Orno, regorting to duty, sir!”
Everyone returned the salute, and I’joorka smiled in that rather frightening way his people had, revealing far too many teeth perfectly designed for tearing flesh. “You know Ca’tain Cook,” he continued, “and the other is Lieutenant N’shoosh. Ca’tain Rassey is join us soon. He’s in another transtort.” He gestured toward one of the other ships tying up. I’joorka’s English was interesting. Where Lawrence often omitted sounds he couldn’t make, I’joorka made free use of substitutes.
“Glad to have you, Major,” Matt greeted him sincerely. “I believe you know Lieutenant Cross, Chief Silva, and Lawrence?”
“Yes. I know they all good,” he agreed, nodding with apparent pleasure at the three. “Us kill lotsa Jaaphs together.”
Matt motioned to Pete, then Chack and Risa. “This is General Alden, commander of all Allied armies and Marines, but your immediate superior for the coming operation is Colonel Chack-Sab-At. His sister, Major Risa, and the Imperial Major Jindal, command two regiments of his First Raider Brigade. The First North Borno will join that brigade as its third regiment.”
“Us are honored.” I’joorka bowed his head. “Chack’s ’Rigade has earned great reskect.” He regarded Silva, Pam, and Lawrence. “Are you in Chack’s ’Rigade too?”
Silva snorted, then grinned. “Not us, ol’ buddy, but me an’ Larry, at least, will be around. Hiya, Mr. Cook! Good to see you . . . sir.” He focused back on I’joorka. “Don’t worry, though. I bet we’ll get to play together again before it’s over.”
“Major Risa will show you around,” Chack said, “and help get your troops settled. We’ll begin sorting things out immediately, and tomorrow you’ll start training with the rest of the brigade. You have much to caatch up on, and little time.”
I’joorka nodded, but Cook spoke up. “Excuse me, sir, but we brought some new equipment along, and you might want to examine it directly. It’s, ah, possible that your troops may have a bit of catching up to do as well.”
Chack looked at Cook and grinned, blinking anticipation. “Truly? Very well, I’m aan-xious to see what you brought.” He looked at Dennis. “Chief Silva, will you and Lawrence join us at the training ground?”
“Sure thing, in a bit.”
“I think I’ll stay with Chack a little while and see what Mr. Cook’s talking about, Skipper,” Spanky said.
“Very well. Carry on,” Matt replied. More salutes were exchanged and Matt, Pete, Pam, Silva, and Lawrence left Spanky and Chack talking with I’joorka, while Risa formed dockworkers into details to help coordinate the disembarkation of the Khonashi troops. Strolling back the way they’d come, Silva had started humming the same tune as before, very low. It was an annoying habit, but sometimes endurable because it usually meant the big man was thinking. Whether his thoughts were pertinent—or appropriate—wasn’t always clear. Matt spoke. “One last thing, Silva, before you run back and play commando with Chack.”
“Sir?”
Matt looked at Pete, then back at Dennis. “A Nancy off one of our AVDs steaming close along the African coast spotted another Grik zeppelin flying just inshore, following the coastline. That’s three in the past week. The first two were heading north-northeast toward Zanzibar,” he added significantly. “This time, the Nancy shot the damn thing down, but it was apparently on a return leg.” He shrugged. “The pilot probably should’ve followed it. Might’ve found where that base, at least, is located. But it may work out better this way. We already knew Kurokawa and the Grik must’ve made up, but this means even if Kurokawa still hasn’t given his allies radio, they’re in direct, relatively prompt communication, most likely trying to coordinate their strategies.”
“That’s not good,” Silva said thoughtfully.
“No,” Matt agreed. “I don’t like any cooperation between our enemies. But . . .” He studied Silva’s expression. “It’s already given you the same idea it gave me, hasn’t it?”
“If you mean that Griks are stupider than we ever thought to trust that crazy Jap again, then yeah,” Silva said, then paused, letting his captain roll his eyes before that disconcerting, gap-toothed grin spread across his face. “Course, I’m also thinkin’ that if lizards’re already flyin’ zeps back an’ forth to Zanzibar, the Jap-Griks there might not take much notice if we used my zep in some interestin’, apparently un-threatenin’ way . . .”
“That’s more like it,” Pete ground out.
“Now, wait just a minute,” Pam suddenly flared. “You’re not talkin’ about that heap of junk you crashed at Grik City, are you? Is that your zeppelin?”
“Sure. We fixed it up good as new,” Dennis defended. “Mostly. It’ll fly.” He looked at Matt. “I figger maybe a dozen, includin’ the aircrew. An’, ideally, a few fresh-dead Grik if we can rake ’em up. That’d put icin’ on the cake.”
Pete nodded. “We should be able to arrange that, complete with current Grik gear. We’ll get word to Colonel Miles an’ his irregulars, dogging the Grik force south of Grik City.” He grinned. “Might have to hurry, though. Word is they’re bogged down in a swamp on the edge of that big band of jungle, and the bugs an’ critters are getting them faster than Miles. If he can get us some bodies, alive or dead, maybe we can fly ’em up here in that trimotor Fiedler left. Leedom’s already used it to take a load of weapons and ammo down. Says it’s airworthy.”