Deadly Shores (30 page)

“Sure, it's a helluva thing that you didn't get to gawk at the scary booger longer than you did,” Silva scolded sarcastically. “Maybe next time you'll get a good look at its innards from the inside!” He looked back at Chack, just as the searchlights dimmed out, their job obviously done. “Hope nobody heard that. Sure you don't wanna call your little hike off?”

Chack shook his head angrily, staring out at the old destroyer. The Morse lamp aboard her was apparently asking the same question. “We will continue our mission,” he stated emphatically. “Have each section of guns join its assigned company in the marching order at once, Cap-i-taan,” he told Risa, “and we will place a section at the head of the column, behind the scouts, as well, if you please. We are far enough from Grik City that the enemy shouldn't have been alerted if it truly is as isolated as our reconnaissance has reported, but other things like that”—he motioned at the wreckage of the creature
Walker
killed—“may wish to investigate. Form a detail to check on our scouts in the forest to ensure that none were wounded by that thing—or
Walker
's shells!”

“Ay, ay, my brother,” Risa replied, and Chack nodded. “Carry on!” he said. With a last look at Silva, Risa scampered away.

“Okay, then,” Silva said. “Have fun, Chackie, and don't get ate. C'mon, Arnie, let's get back to the ship.”

“Have a care for
yourself
, Silva,” Chack warned, “and tell Cap-i-taan Reddy to look for the First Raider Brigade in the enemy's rear—when he needs us most!”

“You bet. So long, Chackie, Mr. Bradford. Watch out for 'skeeters, an' don't stump yer toes! If you do get yer stripy tails in a jam, I'll try to come a'runnin—but who knows what I'll be tangled up with. May get awkward for me to just drop ever'thing to save your silly asses this time!”

Chack grinned at his big friend. “I will bear that in mind.”

“C'mon, Arnie,” Dennis repeated. “We hang around much longer, Skipper'll figure we decided to stay with these nuts an' leave us here.”

//////
Chack's Brigade

Northeast Madagascar

July 31, 1944

T
he me-naak Chack rode was a poor substitute for the horse he'd grown so fond of in the New Ireland campaign, but he was increasingly glad they hadn't brought any horses here. Madagascar might be the ancient homeland of his people, but whether it ever had been or not, it was certainly no place for horses now. The strange and terrifying monster they'd encountered when they first landed had been but a taste of the . . . unreasonably dangerous predators that infested this land. Most were relatively small and quickly dealt with by recon squads that probed ahead of the brigade, but some were larger, and a few were much more clever. All were a menace, and the 1st Raider Brigade was advancing at a frustrating crawl.

The marching column had been essentially abandoned the very first day, since Chack had been forced to move behind battalions that remained largely deployed for battle. This was an incredibly tedious arrangement in the virtually trackless coastal forest, and the alignment of the battalions was extremely difficult to maintain. No one was ever supposed to lose sight of the troopers to either side of them, but the woods echoed almost continuously with sporadic firing, particularly on the flanks, and there was a steady trickle of casualties, dead and wounded, that was bleeding Chack's Brigade at an alarming rate. Worse, the monsters stalking them had quickly closed in behind, snatching any stragglers they could. This kept straggling to an unprecedented minimum, but also prevented Chack from sending his reports—and his wounded—back to the beach without a significant guard. The farther inland they moved, the more difficult that was becoming.

“I have never seen anything like it,” Chack's sister, Risa-Sab-At, stated, saluting as Chack and his small staff rode up behind her currently deployed 1st Battalion of the 11th Imperial Marines. She marched with the “Impies” whenever she could because they'd never faced Grik before, but nobody had ever encountered a situation quite like this. “It is like we move through a land of walking flasher fish!”

“The closest situation I have heard of might be Mr. Cook's—and Silva's—expedition through north Borno,” Chack agreed, “but their party was much smaller and drew far less attention.”

“They weren't discovering a new species with virtually every step either!” enthused Courtney Bradford, waving his sombrero to cool his red, sweat-streaked face. He'd been walking with Risa that day, inspecting the various slain creatures. Risa had been forced to detail a few men to place the manageable carcasses on a cart and bring them to him, so he wouldn't keep scampering toward every shot he heard to have a peek at what provoked it. He was taken, under guard, to see the larger monsters the advancing riflemen brought down.

“Such an astonishing variety of predators!” he continued. “Almost nothing else has been seen! They certainly must prey upon one another if nothing else is to be had. If this truly is a sort of zoo, or preserve for the various ‘worthy prey' or ‘other hunter species' the Grik have encountered over the ages, it is quite fascinating, of course, but the nature of their existence here would seem to minimize any opportunity to study the beasts as they previously existed, if you get my meaning.”

Chack simply stared at the man, blinking tolerant amusement. “And why might that be, Mr. Braad-furd?”

Bradford blinked back. “Why, with predators being forced to subsist on other predators, many behavioral, and even physiological changes, will have had to occur—particularly over long periods of time, of course!” He gestured at his latest acquisition, weaving through the trees beside him on a cart drawn by four resentful-looking Imperial Marines. The thing looked vaguely similar to a Grik, though it was larger and more colorful. Its arms weren't as well developed, and its tail was considerably longer. Interestingly, its teeth were very different from a Grik—more like those of a rhino-pig, complete with wicked tusks, than anything else Chack could compare it to. Courtney frowned, and flapped his hat more vigorously. “I may be wrong, of course,” he conceded. “I'm
so often
wrong these days, it seems! There's no reason to presume there aren't any prey animals on Madagascar. They'd naturally flee our approach, as well as the concentration of predators we invite. And if the Grik truly brought these creatures here, they could certainly bring others for them to feed upon.” He paused, peering at the creature on the cart. “And now that I think about it, this specimen, among others, displays a credible capacity for omnivorism. Most interesting indeed.”

“But you would say that most of the monsters are somewhat Grik-like in form?” Chack asked.

“Most,” Bradford cautiously confirmed. “At least the majority that seem most inclined to attack. I haven't seen them, but other creatures, some armed with primitive weapons, in fact, have been reported. Those appear content to merely scrutinize us for the most part, and almost timidly avoid prolonged observations.”

“Indeed?” asked Chack, blinking curiosity. Then he shook his head. “But most that attack are somewhat Grik-like?”

“In the pertinent respects.”

“But not Grik?”

“Certainly not like any
true
Grik we've encountered.”

Chack nodded at Risa. “Then our Imperial troops will have some small experience of the enemy before we ever meet him. That is a ‘silver lining,' as I have heard such situations described. The less good aspect of this constant, low intensity combat is that we are being badly delayed.” He shook his head. “I see no alternative to severing our lines of communication to the coast—and pushing more aggressively forward despite the possibility of increased casualties.” He blinked determination. “This brigade
will
arrive on time to accomplish its mission, regardless of the cost!”

There was more shooting suddenly, to the left, out in front of Major Jindal's Respitans. A chorus of shouts arose as well, insistent and incredulous. Chack stared in that direction but couldn't see anything through the trees.

“Oh my!” Courtney chortled. “They sound quite excited! I wonder what they've found!”

A few moments later, a Me-naak-mounted courier galloped to join them along a twisting path, saluting as he reined his snot-slinging animal to a stop. “Major Jin-daal's compliments, Col-nol,” the 'Cat said with his slightly different Maa-ni-la accent, “an' he begs to report a ‘curious development' to his front. He asks if you'd care to join him.”

Chack looked at Courtney, then at Risa. “Of course,” he said to the courier. “My compliments to Major Jindal, and we will come directly.”

*   *   *

“They're quite obviously
people
,” Jindal whispered aside to Chack as the two stood, conferring, a short distance away from a fairly large group of men who lingered, only vaguely visible, in the forest ahead. “I meant to say ‘human' people, of course,” Jindal quickly added. “Though judging by their appearance, it's no wonder they were fired upon when first seen.”

Chack agreed that the beings were clearly men—of a sort. They were dressed entirely in animal skins, and their hair and beards were long and matted. All carried spears or longbows, and projected a confident air concerning the world they inhabited that must've taken generations to achieve. Some, more exposed than others, stared back with open curiosity, while others kept a constant, almost casual vigil against the approach of other creatures.

“I believe they've been watching us for some time,” Jindal added. “We've had glimpses now and then, but I scarcely credited the reports that there were
people
out there! Even when my Respitans fired at them, I probably wouldn't have had them cease—I couldn't see them myself—if someone hadn't cried out that they were shouting
English
back at us!”

“English?” Chack asked.

“I'm not in the least bit surprised,” Courtney exclaimed. “It only stands to reason, after all.”

Chack blinked at the man, then huffed. “We should speak to them, I suppose. If we truly can understand them, they may be able to advise us on how best to proceed.”

Chack, Courtney, Jindal, Risa, and half a dozen troopers stepped forward and waited while the strange men seemed to discuss this move excitedly among themselves. Eventually, a like number of skin-clad . . . hunters? . . . warriors? moved forward to meet them. A few paces apart, both groups stopped to appraise the other. For a long moment, no one spoke, but finally, awkwardly, Major Jindal took another half step forward and introduced himself. “And this,” he added, gesturing at Chack, “is Lieutenant Colonel Chack-Sab-At, commander of our expedition. His people and ours are allies against the Grik.”

“Gariek?” one of the bearded men spat, pointing north. “Ya min the Gariek? Nastee buggers beyan' the wall a' trees?”

Jindal was startled that he understood the man—and his accent was so bizarre that he only
barely
understood him.

“Why yes. We—our alliance—are at war with them and mean to destroy them.” He pursed his lips. “I do hope they are not friends of yours.”

A gale of laughter erupted that extended back into the trees much farther than they could see.

“We's nae friends a' thars!” the same man proclaimed. “Theys came huntin' us, naw an' thens, fer fun we's reckans, but nat fer a lang tyme anaw.” The man's face hardened. “We's makes it hard fer 'em.” He shrugged very normally. “We's hunt theys when theys came anow!”

There was a chorus of agreeing growls.

“That's excellent news,” Chack said, and the group drew back slightly.

“Ya spake Ainglish!” another man blurted.

“Of course he does!” Risa said, scowling. “Better than you!”

“Nae affense,” the first man said. “Is jest that nae a' the mankey falk we's ever knawn'd spake it, an' unlike ya's, theys dannae much lak tae fight. Theys all live as far that way as theys can git!” He pointed south.

“Other Lemurians! Here? Still? My God!” Courtney gushed.

“So it would seem,” Chack agreed uneasily. “May I have the pleasure of your name, sir?” he asked the man who'd spoken the most.

“Aye. Aym Will. This here's Andy, that's Sam. . . .” He proceeded to name the rest of those closest, then called out to those behind to shout their names as well. Chack began to fidget. “It's a great pleasure to meet you, particularly under these circumstances, but we really must push on toward the, um, wall of trees. Can you suggest a better way than we are taking? Or a better mode of advance? We have another army scheduled to land beyond the wall in a few days and would very much like to meet it there.”

Will looked closely at Chack.

“Ya's rilly mean ta' kill all the Garieks?” he demanded, then nodded at the Respitans beyond. “Ya's is armed fer it, an' that's a fact, wit yer maskits an' big gannes.”

Chack was just as startled as Jindal when he figured out that “maskits” meant muskets, and “gannes” meant guns. “Killing the Grik is our sole purpose here,” he replied.

“Aye. Weel, ay'll hafta spake the cap'n, but it may be we's can halp. We's may not be much help aganst the Garieks theirsefs, but we's can keep these ather buggers af ye's an yer march—an' ye's'll need ta' keep yer maskits shushed as ye's get claser tae the wall. Ay's reckan ya's wants ta snake in behind, er ye's wadneamarch thray the farest?”

“Indeed,” Jindal agreed. “Any help you wish to provide would be much appreciated!”