Devil's Due (Destroyermen #12)(97)
Bekiaa nodded. That was good—and bad. Good because now armed with rifles—and vast experience—Union and Imperial forces had adopted more effective tactics. Bad because, despite her warnings, the Republic battle line was also arrayed shoulder to shoulder, which would make even muskets more effective than they should’ve been, but the Grik would surely exploit those idiotic gaps if they got close enough. “We have to dig!” she suddenly blurted to the cav-’Cat, still waiting for her to finish. “General Kim must order everyone to dig for their lives! Throw up breastworks with whatever they caan! There’s no time to lose! And tell him to close those goddaamn gaaps!” she stressed again.
“At once, Legate!” The cav-’Cat thundered off.
Bekiaa turned to Prefect Bele. “Bring up the guns. Place a section in the gaap on either side of us, for now. Thaat’ll help. And bring up all the waagons too, on the double. We’ll make a wall of ’em. Have the legion’s maa-sheen guns sited around the waagons when they’re in place.” She was suddenly, desperately, wishing for portable mortars like her people had. The Republic had mortars, and howitzers too, but they were large, heavy monsters designed for fixed defenses, protecting their ports. The very biggest were still muzzle-loaders. They’d focused perhaps too heavily on their excellent, modern, breech-loading Derby guns.
Bele was already gone. Bekiaa turned to Meek. “Take charge of erecting the breastworks. You know what I want. If any puffed-up centurions object, tell ’em they can do as they’re told—or you’ll replace ’em with their optios in my name. Clear?”
Meek grinned. “Aye, clear as can be!” He started to turn.
“And, Optio,” Bekiaa said. “Get a rifle. You’ll need it.”
“But, Legate! Aides don’t carry rifles!” He slapped the pistol at his side.
“They do today. You will, at least, or I’ll find another aide. I’ll have to, because you’ll be dead.”
“Aye, Legate.” He hurried off.
Within minutes, shredded flowers and dirt began spewing forward of the line in front of the 23rd as men and ’Cats, recognizing the wisdom of Bekiaa’s order, started digging like maniacs. Wagons trundled forward and were tipped on their sides. Bekiaa noted that the legionnaires in the 10th, to her left, and 5th, to her right, were already following suit. Unhappy suikaas, interrupted from their morning feed, dragged the legion’s six Derby guns up, and their crews unlimbered three on either side. Bekiaa prayed that just as they were apparently giving the enemy time to prepare, the Grik would allow them time as well. How weird, she thought, to hope the Grik will fight fair!
“What are you doing!” came a screech behind her. “Those are my wagons!” Bekiaa turned to see Colonel Lok-Fon rushing up behind her, buttoning her tunic, eyes flashing with fury. “Stop them this instant!” the colonel shouted at her.
“I won’t. They’re following my orders.”
“Your order . . .” Lok-Fon choked. “You!” She grabbed the arm of Prefect Bele as he rushed up. “Arrest these meddlesome foreigners at once. Both of them! They’re destroying Republic property.” She stared in horror as a decoratively painted wagon tilted on its side with a wet, grinding crash. The sharp-sweet smell of Colonia port overpowered the scent of flowers. “You . . . you . . . savage!” she seethed at Bekiaa.
Bele tried to whisper something urgently in his colonel’s ear, but she shook him off. “I don’t care if they’ve foolishly chosen to call her a legate! She’s nothing but an uncouth barbarian, pampered far too long. Don’t think I haven’t heard how she”—she glared at Courtney—“and that bizarre man with her, presume to talk down to their betters, even General Kim himself!” She suddenly paused, blinking. “Whatever is that dreadful racket?”
“The real savages, Colonel,” Bele said stiffly, physically pushing her forward to see the growing Grik force. “And thank God ours is a real legate!”
Lok-Fon’s fur bristled with a fear her sudden, spastic blinking confirmed. “I . . . I must g-go to Generaal Kim at once!” she stuttered. “To, ah, consult with him.” She took a shaky step back and then turned, almost running toward where the cavalry’s Gentaa horse holders were gathered.
“I doubt we’ll have further interruptions from her today,” Courtney quipped, taking the Krag from his shoulder and opening the loading gate to check the magazine.
“I expect you’re right, sir,” Bele said, blinking humiliation in the Lemurian way.
Almost inexplicably, the Grik did give the Armies of the Republic considerable time to throw up breastworks and counter their initial panic. Of course, they were new to this type of warfare as well, and considering the inevitable confusion associated with forming dispersed and jumbled ranks to their apparent satisfaction, and compared to their old tactics of simply rushing to the attack, they got their “shit in the sock” quicker than Bekiaa would’ve believed. Their newfound patience and discipline was disconcerting. Courtney had seen it before, of course, but his usually placid, even cheerful expression was grim.
“Probably expected us to just march right into the forest,” Bekiaa said darkly. “They could’ve jumped on us pretty hard then. Now?” She considered. Orders had quickly come back from General Kim, putting her in official, temporary command of the 23rd Legion. Colonel Lok-Fon didn’t return. Kim also instructed all his forces to do most of what Bekiaa suggested. The first good news was that the best estimates of the enemy force, reinforced by observers in the Cantets, suggested the Armies of the Republic actually outnumbered the enemy by ten or fifteen thousand. That was something Bekiaa wasn’t used to. She’d never been part of any force bigger than the Grik it faced. Maybe it’ll be okay, she prayed. Maybe. The horns were still braying in the woods, a different tone from before. She supposed it was some kind of assembly call. Behind her legion, limbered guns from the 1st Army artillery legion rattled by, moving to bolster 3rd Army, somewhere. The planes must’ve seen something else she couldn’t. To her eyes, there seemed just as many Grik in front of her as elsewhere.