Iron Gray Sea

CHAPTER 24

March 25, 1944

Rocky Gap

General-Queen Protector Safir Maraan, her silver-washed armor dented and tarnished, her black cloak torn and stained, stood in her command tent, staring down at the map before her. She wasn’t really looking at it anymore; the image was intimately familiar, and besides, she could hardly see through the kaleidoscope of amber tears colored by the guttering lanterns. Colonel Billy Flynn had saved her tail in the Saa-lon highlands and had since become an excellent friend. Now he was dead, along with nearly all the Marines, Rangers, and Sularans that had been with him-and there’d been nothing at all she could do. She’d been stuck here in this useless Rocky Gap for more than a week now, her own troops dying in front and behind while supplies and munitions dwindled. She looked into the east, through the open tent flap, where the Sacred Sun would rise above the high crags and bathe the gap with light, and said a silent prayer for Flynn and his lost command.

Somewhat selfishly, she thought, she also said a prayer of thanks that her beloved Chack-Sab-At was safe in Maa-ni-la, working up his new elite force instead of in this bone-grinding pit. She feared she might have lost him too if he’d been here-perhaps with Billy Flynn. The 2nd Marines had been Chack’s, after all.

“Maker preserve him. Preserve us all,” she murmured at the first graying streaks in the eastern sky.

A knock came against the tent pole, discreetly beside the flap. “They are here, my gener-aal,” said a low voice. It was almost unnaturally quiet outside, Safir realized. Ammunition was low, but the Grik were not short. They were shifting their forces, she knew, but she hadn’t expected the silence.

“I am coming,” Safir replied. She took a breath and stepped outside.

Colonel Enaak, commander of the 5th Maa-ni-la Cavalry, stiffened to attention at the sight of her. Another trooper, one she knew well, fought against his exhaustion to stand straighter at his side.

“Cap-i-taan Saachic, reporting as ordered, Gener-aal.”

Without a word, Safir moved forward and embraced the trembling Maa-ni-lo, the tears finally spilling down and wetting the blue-black fur on her face. “Thank the Maker you are safe! When Colonel Enaak told me you made it through, I could hardly believe it. Come. Sit inside, and tell me what you saw. Orderly!” she said louder, “bring refreshment!”

“At once, my gener-aal!”

“Col-nol Flynn, all those we left behind, must be lost,” Saachic said miserably after a long gulp of seep-laced water. Safir had offered him a stool instead of a cushion because she didn’t want him to drift off to sleep. The small torture of the stool struck her as less cruel than waking him after his ultimate crash would be. “We were surrounded; no way out. Col-nol Flynn had a plan, but it didn’t work. He tried to save everyone…” Saachic was rambling, and Safir tried to focus his thoughts.

“ How did you get out?”

“Ahh… most of the Grik pulled away to reinforce some movement against you-” Safir looked meaningfully at Enaak. Now they knew where the sudden influx opposite their lines came from. The scouts had seen no approaching column. “And we tried to break through those that remained,” Saachic continued. “It might have worked- should have worked against the Grik we fought before, but these are not the same.”

Safir and Enaak nodded. They’d noticed that as well. Somehow, the Grik were finally becoming soldiers. Not all of them had… transformed, but enough had done so to keep them bottled up here, and their defense-a concept they’d all thought utterly alien to the Grik-was only growing stronger.

“The breakout stalled,” Saachic murmured. “The col-nol ordered what remained of my cavalry to make a run for it, carrying as many others as we could. His final effort… the sacrifice of all who remained, was…” He paused, glancing at Safir. Aryaalans and B’mbaadans were not followers of the prophet Siska-Ta. “It was a tale for the Sacred Scrolls,” he finished, almost defiantly.

Safir nodded. “I’m sure it was,” she assured him. “But having broken out, how did you make it here?”

“Eighty of our beasts, most wounded to some degree, survived until we reached the mountains north of here with the morning. Most carried two or three persons and there were almost two hundreds of us.” He stopped a moment, shaking his head and blinking uncertainty.

“Two hundreds?” Safir asked. Saachic had entered 2nd Corps’ lines with five riders. “Did you meet more Grik?”

“There were no Grik, but we could not find a pass. It was then that we met… other riders.”

Enaak stood. “Other riders! What other riders?” he demanded.

“I… I do not know, Col-nol Enaak,” Saachic replied. “I confess I was not entirely myself.” He held up his left arm. “I took a wound and there had been no time to dress it. A fever was upon me. You may ask others who were there, but the riders were hu-maans — some were, at any rate.” His blinking turned to confusion. “I think there were others; not human, but not like us. They rode upon creatures I have not seen; like me-naaks, but with… horns? Their mounts and ours did not like each other.” Saachic’s tail swished in consternation. “I am sorry. I cannot recall much more about them.”

“Perhaps you can,” Safir prodded. “You say you ‘met’ them. What did they do? What did they say? How many were they, and why were they there?”

Saachic appeared to concentrate. “I think they were of like numbers to us. There was one, a large hu-maan with a great face mane who spoke a kind of rough English.” Saachic grew more animated as memory returned. “I think I asked him if he was Amer-i-caan-someone did-and he laughed.” He shook his head. “I remember nothing more but events and impressions. I believe they had been watching our battle; they knew of it, at least. They must be from a land beyond Grik control, but they clearly know much of this one because it was they who showed us the high, winding pass that brought us through to General Aalden.”

“General Aalden?” Safir exclaimed. There’d been no direct communications with Maa-draas for two days, not since the comm ’Cats and their aerials had been driven from the heights. Some notes had been dropped by planes, and she knew Aalden was trying to reach them-but she also knew the Grik fleet was coming and a major offensive was grinding at Aalden and Rolak from the south.

“Yes,” Saachic said. “That is why only six of us broke through to you. The rest remained with the relief force.” He looked at Safir with a small smile when he realized she must have thought his six were the only survivors. “Lieutenant Commander Leedom is well, and will resume command of the remaining air forces in Indiaa. Your cousin-to-be, Cap-i-taan Bekiaa-Sab-At, also survived, though she is sorely wounded. I… I am sorry I did not mention that immediately.”

Safir closed her eyes for a moment in thanks. Not all lost, at least. She didn’t know Bekiaa well, but she was practically family. More important, Chack loves her, and she is an exceptional officer.

“So. What will Generaal Aalden do?”

“He intends to force his way through to you today, come what may. Any help you can provide would be appreciated, but the most important message he charged me to give is that you must hold here, whatever the cost. The enemy cannot gain this gap. He fears Madraas may be lost when the Grik fleet arrives.”

“Maker!” breathed Colonel Enaak. “But what, then, would be the point in remaining here?”

“General Aalden believes that if we are forced out of Maa-draas, we must consolidate here and around that lake to the south. The mountains will provide a barrier to the west, and the lake will allow us to continue to operate aircraft. They are our only defense against Grik zeppelins. Also, though it will doubtless be watched and perhaps even fortified, the river that flows from the lake to the sea is somewhat navigable-but much too shallow for the Grik battleships. Whatever happens, we must assume a position with secure internal lines.”

“It has come to this?” Safir murmured. “A hasty defense on foreign soil? Like Colonel Flynn’s stand on North Hill writ large?”

“General Aalden anticipated your concern,” Saachic said. “He bade me assure you that this entire ‘mess’ is his fault alone, but we will get out of it. The Grik may have caught us with our kilts down-”

“A most colorful and appropriate metaphor,” Enaak interrupted.

“-but our own forces,” Saachic continued, “new weapons, better aircraft, heavier ships all gather at Andamaan even now. And soon we will do the same to the Grik.”

“Very well,” Safir said grimly, standing and putting a hand on Saachic’s shoulder. She nodded at a large cushion in the tent. “Sleep now, Cap-i-taan Saachic. You have done… well.” She blinked irony at the insufficiency of the word. “I will speak to your companions about these other riders you met.”

Tears suddenly gushed down Captain Saachic’s face. The dam he’d held in place by will alone had broken. “He died for us. Col-nol Flynn, the Marines, Rangers, Sularans… they all died so I could sit here in comfort… and spill tears like a youngling!” He sounded disgusted with himself.

“They died for you,” Safir agreed softly. “They died for all of us, so you could bring us your words-and the warriors you saved. If not for their actions and yours, we would know nothing of what we face beyond this hateful gap, of General Aalden’s plans, or of these enigmatic strangers.” Safir gently stroked the filthy, blood-crusted fur on Saachic’s cheek. “They will be remembered for what they did, and so will you.”

Taylor Anderson

Iron Gray Sea — 07