Authors: TAYLOR ANDERSON
Crusade (7 page)
The barricade parted before them, and at the shouted commands of their officers, the Marines and Guards from Baalkpan and
Big Sal
and all the other Homes and places that had come to Aryaal’s aid stepped through the gaps with a precied the others on the exposed side, with nothing between them and the enemy but a gently swaying sea of marsh grass and flowers. There the army paused for a moment, flags fluttering overhead, as it dressed ranks and waited for the guns to make their more difficult way through the obstacles. Matt patted the Aryaalan aide on the arm and motioned for him to follow. The dinosaur bellowed a complaint when the aide pushed forward on a pair of levers that caused two sharpened stakes at the back of the platform-saddle they rode to jab down hard into the animal’s hips. With a sickening pitching motion, the beast began to move and the aide released the pressure on the stakes. Two long cables, like reins, snaked back along the beast’s serpentine neck and the aide pulled savagely on one of them, physically pointing the creature’s head in the direction he wanted it to go. Slowly, they trudged through the barricade and joined the army on the other side.
Big Sal
and all the other Homes and places that had come to Aryaal’s aid stepped through the gaps with a precied the others on the exposed side, with nothing between them and the enemy but a gently swaying sea of marsh grass and flowers. There the army paused for a moment, flags fluttering overhead, as it dressed ranks and waited for the guns to make their more difficult way through the obstacles. Matt patted the Aryaalan aide on the arm and motioned for him to follow. The dinosaur bellowed a complaint when the aide pushed forward on a pair of levers that caused two sharpened stakes at the back of the platform-saddle they rode to jab down hard into the animal’s hips. With a sickening pitching motion, the beast began to move and the aide released the pressure on the stakes. Two long cables, like reins, snaked back along the beast’s serpentine neck and the aide pulled savagely on one of them, physically pointing the creature’s head in the direction he wanted it to go. Slowly, they trudged through the barricade and joined the army on the other side.
“God a’mighty, Skipper! I wish I had a camera!” came a voice from below and behind. Matt looked down. Dennis Silva and half a dozen other destroyermen were falling in on the animal’s flanks.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Matt called hotly. “We already have more men ashore than I’d like. You’re supposed to be assisting Lieutenant Ellis!”
Silva assumed a wounded expression. “I am, Skipper! But he’s a captain now too, you know. What with his own ship and all. He plumb
ordered
us off of it!” He gestured at the other men. “Said he couldn’t stand the very thought of us deck-apes foulin’ his engineerin’ spaces! I think he must’a been a snipe himself once upon a time,” he added darkly. “Put us ashore, and made us take these guns”—he brandished the Browning Automatic Rifle, or BAR, in his hand—“to keep ’em out of the workers’ way!” Silva shook his head. “No way back to
Walker
now, so we figgered we’d come along over here and keep you comp’ny watchin’ this fight.”
ordered
us off of it!” He gestured at the other men. “Said he couldn’t stand the very thought of us deck-apes foulin’ his engineerin’ spaces! I think he must’a been a snipe himself once upon a time,” he added darkly. “Put us ashore, and made us take these guns”—he brandished the Browning Automatic Rifle, or BAR, in his hand—“to keep ’em out of the workers’ way!” Silva shook his head. “No way back to
Walker
now, so we figgered we’d come along over here and keep you comp’ny watchin’ this fight.”
Matt tried to maintain a stern expression, but an unstoppable grin broke through. “My God, Silva, you missed your calling. Hollywood or Congress, that’s where you should be. I’ve never seen anyone tell such a ridiculous lie with such conviction.” He looked at Gray, glowering at Silva. “Chief, put these men on report. They can stay, but they’re in your custody and control. They will
not
fire their weapons without my orders. Is that understood?” Matt gestured at the backs of the Lemurian troops as they prepared to move forward again. “The last thing we need is for these people to start relying on our modern weapons to fight their battles. We just don’t have enough to make a difference.” He smiled sadly. “We could probably do it once, but that would be even worse.” He looked squarely at Gray. “Emergencies only. That’s an order.”
not
fire their weapons without my orders. Is that understood?” Matt gestured at the backs of the Lemurian troops as they prepared to move forward again. “The last thing we need is for these people to start relying on our modern weapons to fight their battles. We just don’t have enough to make a difference.” He smiled sadly. “We could probably do it once, but that would be even worse.” He looked squarely at Gray. “Emergencies only. That’s an order.”
“But, Skipper, beggin’ your pardon, haven’t we been doing that already? With the ship?” Silva asked, genuinely confused.
Matt nodded. “Yes, we have, but there’s a difference. The ship is who we are. She’s
what
we are, as far as these people are concerned. She’s what’s given us the credentials to advise them and help them technologically and be believed. Of course we fight with the ship. That’s what’s allowed us to give them the confidence they’ll need to win this fight—and it’ll be their fight for the most part. It has to be.”
what
we are, as far as these people are concerned. She’s what’s given us the credentials to advise them and help them technologically and be believed. Of course we fight with the ship. That’s what’s allowed us to give them the confidence they’ll need to win this fight—and it’ll be their fight for the most part. It has to be.”
“But . . . even some of the cat-monkeys have guns—”
Matt’s voice took on an edge. “I’m not in the habit of explaining myself to gunner’s mates, Silva, but you may have noticed that Sergeant Alden’s Marine rifleor two, but the victory, if there is one, must be theirs.” He waved at the army again. “Won with their arms. Do you understand? That’s the only way they’ll ever win not just this battle but the war.”
Matt was convinced he was right. He just hoped it would turn out that way. Being right in theory wasn’t always the same as being right in practice.
“Does that mean we have to sling our rifles and just use these crummy cutlasses, Skipper?” asked Tom Felts from the other side of the dinosaur.
Matt grinned. “No, just don’t shoot unless I say so. Damn, I thought I said that.”
“Just shut up, you stupid apes,” growled the Bosun. “Can’t you see the cap’n’s got a battle to think about? One more word out of you and I’ll drag your asses back to the dock and you’ll miss the whole thing!”
Lieutenant Shinya’s voice rose above the silence of the waiting army. “Soldiers of the Allied Expeditionary Force! People of the Sacred Tree and sons and daughters of the Heavens!” Others answered his shrill voice, up and down the line. Many didn’t hear him over the stiffening breeze, but they heard the voices of those closer to them.
“First Guard Regiment!”
“Second Guard Regiment!”
“Second Marines!”
And on and on, followed by the shouts of company commanders and squad leaders.
“At the quick time,
march
!”
march
!”
As a single entity, the entire army stepped off with their left feet just as they’d been taught and began to move forward with long, purposeful strides that ate up ground at a surprising rate. The guns went with them, and two dozen artillerymen per piece manhandled the weapons and ammunition right along with the infantry. It was amazing. To Matt’s knowledge, the army had never been able to train together on such a scale before, either on the parade ground or in the newly cleared zones around Baalkpan City. But for the most part, the formation held together with almost total precision. Here and there, NCOs called a cadence or shouted instructions for their squads to keep up or slow down, but the overall impression of discipline was impressive. Pete Alden, the man who, more than anyone, had built this army, would be proud. Matt was proud. Despite his inner anxiety, he felt a sudden thrill. He knew then what it must have felt like to be Caesar, or Alexander, watching his well-trained army march into battle against disorganized barbarians. The historian within him continued to whisper insidiously that the barbarians often won, but for the moment, he didn’t—wouldn’t—listen. The die was cast and the time for strategy was past.
There would be little maneuver; there was no point. When they engaged the enemy, the army would extend from the walls of the city almost to the banks of the river and he was reminded of one of his favorite Nelson quotes: “Never mind about maneuvers. Just go straight at ’em.” That was about all they could do in this confined space. When the two forces came together, there’d just be fighting and hacking and killing. His great hope then was that the training his people had received would make the difference. Of course, they did have a few surprises for the Grik even before that happened.
The battle raged with more intensity at the base of the distant walls, and more and more ladders fell against them. Occasionally, firebombs arced up in high trajectories and fell among the defenders beyond his view. Matt surmised the enemy must have some sort of portable machine or was difficult to tell through his binoculars how well the Aryaalans were holding because of the odd, jouncing gait of his mount. He heard a different note from the horns of the Grik in front of them, one with a kind of strident edge. He thought, incongruously, that they really needed to come up with some means like that for the Lemurians to signal one another. Their mouths were shaped all wrong to blow on a bugle. They had some woodwind-type horns, but they just weren’t loud enough. Maybe the conch-like shells they blew as a warning? Even simple whistles would be better than nothing. He should have thought of that sooner. He wondered how the Grik managed it. The way their mouths were shaped, he couldn’t see how they could do anything with them other than tear flesh.
At three hundred yards, a single command echoed up and down the line.
“Shields!”
The tall, rectangular shields made from bronze plate backed with wood that the first two ranks carried clashed together as they were locked, side to side, overlapping one another to form a mobile wall. Spears came down in unison and rested on the top edges of the shields as the army advanced. It was an impressive display and Matt wondered what the enemy thought. He knew the sight had horrified the enemies of Rome, but he had no idea how the Grik would react. A smattering of crossbow bolts fluttered toward them. Most landed short, but a few thunked into the shield wall. A single piercing scream reached his ears from far to the left. His unlikely mount lumbered mindlessly along with a kind of quartering, rolling motion, following behind the trotting ranks but easily keeping up with its plodding, long-legged pace.
“Halt!” came the cry at two hundred yards, and the advance ground to a stop. For a moment there was a little confusion as the ranks realigned themselves. A runner dashed up from where Shinya had stopped with his staff a short distance away. He spoke in carefully enunciated English. “Lieutenant Shinya sends his respects, sir, and asks if he may commence firing?”
“By all means,” Matt answered. With a salute, the young runner scampered away. Matt glanced down and saw Keje standing with Chief Gray. The Chief was practically supporting him as the Lemurian wheezed and Matt felt a pang of shame. The advance from the barricade had to have been tough on his portly friend. Keje was strong as a bull, but Matt doubted he’d had many occasions to trot as far as he had. “Keje,” he called, “why don’t you join me up here? You can sure see better. There’s plenty of room.”
Keje eyed the beast with suspicion, but gratefully nodded his head. He climbed swiftly onto the platform and settled next to Matt and Lord Rolak’s aide. He was still puffing a little. “I grow too old,” he said, “and my legs are too short for this fighting on land.” He shook his head. “It is unnatural.”
Matt glanced behind them and smiled. “But you didn’t come much farther than the length of
Big Sal
. Hell, I doubt it was as far.”
Big Sal
. Hell, I doubt it was as far.”
“Perhaps, but
Salissa
does not clutch at your feet as you run, and her decks are flat and you do not sink into them.”
Salissa
does not clutch at your feet as you run, and her decks are flat and you do not sink into them.”
“Batteries, forward!” came the command. “Archers, prepare!” Gaps opened in the shield wall to allow the guns to be pushed through. Their crews immediately raced to load them with fixed charges consisting of thin tin canisters filled with two hundred three-quarter-inch balls on top of a wooden sabot to which was attached a fabric bag of powder. In carefully choreographed, highe had heard the thunder. Not just the thunder from the ships, which he’d begun to hear already, but the thunder that came from the sea folk land force. That was when he had known it wouldn’t be long before they called him, and he stood ready to dash down to the south gate as soon as he saw the flare.
“The wait is . . . distracting,” came a soft voice beside him. Lord Rolak turned and looked at Safir Maraan, Queen Protector of B’mbaado. She was dressed all in black, from the leather that backed her armor to the long, flowing cape that fell from her shoulders and fluttered fitfully in the breeze. Her fur was black as well—entirely, without the slightest hint of a past mixture that would attest to any dilution of the royal blood. Her bright gray eyes shone like silver in her ebon face and artistically justified her only concession to the dark raiment, which was a form-fitted breastplate made of silver-washed bronze.
She is perfect,
Lord Rolak admitted frankly to himself. He was almost three times her age, but he hadn’t grown so ancient he couldn’t recognize fact. It’s no wonder that young fool of a prince would have them fight a war to have her. That war had ended inconclusively, of course, when the Grik had come. As much as she hated Rasik-Alcas, she’d brought six hundred of her finest warriors, her personal guard, to help defend against them. Lord Rolak rather doubted if Fet or Rasik-Alcas would have done the same.
Lord Rolak admitted frankly to himself. He was almost three times her age, but he hadn’t grown so ancient he couldn’t recognize fact. It’s no wonder that young fool of a prince would have them fight a war to have her. That war had ended inconclusively, of course, when the Grik had come. As much as she hated Rasik-Alcas, she’d brought six hundred of her finest warriors, her personal guard, to help defend against them. Lord Rolak rather doubted if Fet or Rasik-Alcas would have done the same.
One of those warriors was a massive B’mbaadan, scarred and old as he, who shadowed Queen Maraan’s every move. His name was Haakar-Faask, and Rolak respected him greatly. They had battled often and inflicted their share of scars on one another. After Safir became the Orphan Queen, it was Faask who became her mentor, chief guard, general, and, in some ways, surrogate father. Right now, Rolak wished he would exercise a little more protectiveness. He looked at the warrior and blinked with exasperation, but Faask remained inscrutable. With a growl, Rolak stepped quickly back from the bastion wall, hoping to draw the queen with him. Dressed like that, she had to be a tempting target for the enemy crossbows. Unconcerned, she continued to peer over the side at the roiling enemy below. To her left, some distance away, a great cauldron of boiling water poured down upon the enemy and agonized shrieks rose to their ears. Rolak saw a slight smile of satisfaction expose a few of her perfect white teeth. She turned and stepped from the edge just as a flurry of crossbow bolts whipped over the wall where she’d been. Rolak sighed exasperatedly, blinking accusation at Haakar-Faask. “My dear Queen Protector, you must not take such chances. You must be more careful!”
“Like your own king?” she asked with a mocking smile. Rolak didn’t respond. “Unlike the great Fet-Alcas, I am not only the leader of my people in peace, but in war. That is why I am also called ‘Protector.’ I take that duty seriously. I won’t shirk any danger I ask my warriors to face.”
“I have not seen you ask your warriors to flaunt themselves pointlessly in full view of the enemy, my dear,” Rolak observed with a wry smile as he blinked with gentle humor.
“Have you not? What then do you think they are doing here?” As before, Lord Rolak had no reply.
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