Devil's Due (Destroyermen #12)(87)



The fierce action served as an eye-opening baptism for the Armies of the Republic, at least for some, and that was a good thing, Bekiaa supposed. But it involved only a fraction of Kim’s forces. Other legions heard about it but hadn’t seen, so it still wasn’t real for them. And, of course, they hadn’t found another live Grik for a hundred miles. Bekiaa already saw signs that the trauma was fading, and other legions that hadn’t been there even spoke contemptuously of those that had, implying their losses—heavier than the Grik, counting the wounded—must’ve been the result of incompetence or poor performance. Most distressing to Bekiaa, since there’d been no more fighting, disdain for the enemy was beginning to take root. She looked at General Kim. He seemed capable but had no experience at this, and Bekiaa didn’t think he’d done enough to combine his armies into one focused force—or quell a growing conceit. Confidence was good, but arrogance could be disastrous.

“I wish Generaal Rolak was here,” she whispered to Courtney. He looked at her, seemingly following her train of thought precisely. “Why Rolak in particular?” he murmured back, his voice softened by the general hubbub surrounding the apparently concentrating Kim.

“Because he’s like these people in some ways, but he knows. And he’d also know how to straighten them out. Generaal Maraan would piss everybody off and they’d dig in their heels.” She grinned and shook her head. “And they’d resist Generaal Aal-den, because he’d make ’em all think he wanted to be the Kaiser, just by the way he takes charge of everything in sight.”

“Quite possibly,” Courtney agreed with a fond smile. “But none of them are here, nor will they be until they land with objectives of their own. I fear it’s up to you and me for now.”

Bekiaa nodded, and reluctantly raised her voice. “General Taal,” she said, and the talking dwindled to a murmur. “You say you’ve looked everywhere. How far forward? Did your scouts penetrate the forest to the north? It’s what, about fifteen miles ahead?” She paused, raising a lip over a sharp canine, doing the mental math. She hated math. “I mean, twenty-something killo-meters,” she added in exasperation.

“Twenty-five,” Taal said, amused; then his tone turned serious. “No, I ordered them not to press too deeply into the Teetgak.” He glanced at Kim. “Perhaps I should not have, and I confess it concerns me deeply. But cavalry is useless—and nearly helpless—in that maze. There are roads of a sort, but we did not explore them any great distance. Large numbers of the enemy could remain undetected, and even a few could do disproportionate harm to my scouts. Ambush is to be expected, but to probe farther without support invites annihilation to no point. It might confirm the enemy is there, if no scouts return, but I already suspect that, and we’d learn nothing more, despite the sacrifice.”

Courtney frowned. “I’m no military man,” he said, “and don’t mean to seem insensitive, General Taal, but isn’t that a risk all scouts must face? With no better intelligence than we possess, we can only blunder forward into a meeting engagement the enemy might control. How do we seize the initiative? Even a costly ambush might tell us something.”

Bekiaa looked at Courtney, blinking surprise. She happened to agree, but was startled to hear him make such a ruthless assessment. She reminded herself that he’d seen a lot since they last met, including some fairly intense combat with the very type of Grik they now faced. “The Aam-baas-ador is right,” she said. “Just as we have to aassume warning has preceded us, we must also expect the enemy will meet us in places, on ground, of his choosing.” She looked around. “I know what many think: the Grik run from us, or all their troops from this region have been sent to Mada-gaas-gar.” She nodded at Bradford. “The latter may even be true. And maybe the civilian Grik do flee. But we know countless Grik gaather near Sofesshk. Many likely came from here. And whether they know we’re coming or not, we’ll eventually caatch up with some, at least. And that’ll probably happen when we least expect it.” She paused and took a breath. “I have . . . some experience in these matters. The Grik aren’t stupid. At least their leaders aren’t. And Agut—and other events—show they’ve learned to fight as soldiers, not just a mob. You must remember that!”

“What do you advise?” asked Inquisitor Choon, genuinely curious.

Bekiaa blinked conviction. “We must hasten our advance, force a baattle, make the enemy notice us. If they don’t, we’re useless as a diversion and can only help Generaal Aalden by joining him when he attaacks Sofesshk. At our current pace, that could take months.” She shrugged. “At the same time, we must be cautious, guard against overconfidence, and be prepared for the enemy to appear at any time, any place. This is their land, remember, and they know it better than us.”

Choon gestured at the map. “Then where do you think they will be? Where will we meet them at last?”

Bekiaa hovered over the map. It was crude, compiled from the few overflights they’d managed to arrange and an atlas of sorts, painted on the wall of what was likely the southern regent’s palace. It had been a dismal place, but the largest building in Agut by far. Features depicted on the regent’s atlas, even a few place-names for a change, including rivers, the plain they occupied, and the hundred-mile-wide band of forest ahead had been added to Kim’s map. It helped, but as usual in this war, they were campaigning in places they barely knew. “I’ll bet, if they’ve had waarning—which we must presume,” she stressed again, “the closest forces moving to join the horde at Sofesshk will round on us as we reach the forest. It’s the perfect place to stage an attaack unobserved. Yet with their new army, dense cover will hinder their movement and combat power as much as ours.” She stabbed the map with the long, sharp nail on her finger. “Here, at the edge of the Teetgak, is where they’ll mass.” She looked at Kim. “I know I just counseled haste, but the object is to win the battles we force. We should take time to combine our armies and approach as a united force. General Taal is right to fear the forest,” she said, smiling at the attractive cav-’Cat. “But we must scout ahead.” She glanced at Kim. “In the meantime, the other armies should meet us here.” She tapped the spot on the map again.

Taylor Anderson's Books