Crusade d-2 Read online

  Courtney Bradford stood at the barricade staring through his «borrowed» binoculars at the scene of the previous day’s battle. The first rays of the sun were creeping above the horizon, but so far all he could see was a seemingly endless sea of indistinct shapes, alone or massed in piles, across the marshy plain. Occasionally he saw movement. Either a wounded Grik that the searchers hadn’t dispatched the night before, or possibly some scavenger darting furtively through the unprecedented smorgasbord.

  It was the scavengers he hoped to see. Queen Maraan — a delightful creature, he thought — had told him about skuggiks, which she described as vile little predators about the size of a turkey. They invariably appeared to feast upon the carrion after a battle. They walked on two legs and actually looked a lot like Grik, she said, except they were considerably smaller and had no upper limbs at all. They were walking mouths, for all intents and purposes, with quick, powerful legs and a long, whiplike tail. Bradford couldn’t wait to see one.

  Perhaps there? he thought, as something seemed to move. He was having trouble holding the binoculars with one hand since his other arm was still in a sling. «Blast!» he exclaimed, lowering his good arm to rest for a moment. He would just have to wait until there was enough light to see. He glanced to his right and was surprised to find a number of Lemurian warriors, on guard against a renewed Grik assault, staring at him with open curiosity. He looked to the left, saw much the same, and felt a twinge of unaccustomed self-consciousness. «I’m a scientist, not a ghoul!» he announced harshly, brandishing the binoculars. They continued to regard him with their inscrutable stares. He sighed and stepped away from the barricade. Most of these wouldn’t understand English, he realized, since the majority were Rolak’s or Maraan’s people. They had made every effort to retrieve all of their own few wounded and many dead throughout the night, but some would undoubtedly remain. The idea of him watching in fascination while some scavenger chewed upon anyone besides Grik — and maybe them too — might be a less than popular morning activity.

  With as much dignity as he could muster, he stuffed the binoculars into his sling and strode away from the breastworks toward the guttering torches that surrounded the hospital tent. Marine guards ringed the area, nearly dead on their feet. After the treachery of the day before, they’d been reluctant to allow the Aryaalans and B’mbaadans to take their place on the barricade, but they were exhausted and Adar ordered them to rest. They weren’t about to trust undependable allies with the security of their wounded comrades and leaders, however. Battle-weary Marines rotated the duty throughout the night. Bradford knew now what had happened, and he personally felt nothing but gratitude for the warriors that came to their aid, but he could sympathize with how the Marines felt.

  There were many, many wounded lying on the ground in the vicinity and he carefully picked his way through the sleeping forms. Many, he suspected, would never awake. Most would, however, and that was largeng torchesg into the gray morning light. He realized she’d probably brought little in the way of medical science to the Lemurian people. In many ways their medicines were more effective than those she knew — the strange antiseptic paste for one — but she had introduced the idea of battlefield triage and the associated patch-and-splice that went with it. That was something the local healers had never considered. The sea folk didn’t need it because they so rarely fought anything like a major battle, and the locals, who fought all the time, had just never thought of it. Perhaps it was because even they had never fought a battle such as this, in which the sheer numbers of casualties were so high. Unlike anyone they’d met so far, the B’mbaadans and Aryaalans understood the concept of surrender, at least among themselves. Maybe they had never let things go this far before one side or the other just quit. Whatever the case, the exhausted young nurse had done heroic work that night. He picked his way toward her.

  «You should rest, my dear. You are destroyed.» He spoke quietly so as not to disturb those nearby whose sleep was only temporary. She nodded at him and smiled weakly. «But you know that, of course.»

  «Yes.» She sighed. «The healers we brought are a wonder. I couldn’t have managed without them.» Her face brightened somewhat. «Pam Cross and Kathy McCoy came from Mahan to lend a hand. God, I’m so glad they’re safe!» She gestured under the tent and shook her head. «They’re in there now. Last night was bad, but they sure had a rough time on Mahan. Everything from constant fear for their lives to attempted rape. With Kaufman in charge» — she snorted" pretending to be in charge — there was chaos. They told me things.» She didn’t finish, but instead looked in the direction of the barricade and what lay beyond. «Beth Grizzel went ashore with Kaufman. Did you know that?»

  Bradford nodded and gently patted her arm. «Mr. Ellis told me last night.»

  Sandra shivered, but continued to glare at the barricade. «Damn Kaufman!» she muttered fiercely. «So much misery because of him. I hope he roasts in hell!»

  Bradford felt his eyebrow arch, but decided now wasn’t an appropriate time for the response that leaped to mind. Pity. «I’m quite certain he did, my dear.» He guided her to a bench and hovered near her as she sat down at last. «And how then are the captain and his extremely lucky companions? I still can hardly believe they survived, from what I hear.»

  She stared bleakly at her hands on her lap. «As you say. Lucky to be alive. Keje has a concussion, I think, but other than that he didn’t get a scratch. The Chief had an arrow in his hip, but it struck the very edge of his pelvis and went down instead of up. Lucky. If it went up, it would have perforated his bowel. God knows if that Lemurian paste would have any effect on peritonitis. It’ll hurt when he walks for a while, but he should be fine. Matt?» She closed her eyes tightly and tried to control the relief in her voice. «His cheekbone is cracked, at least, and he has a deep gash in his side, down to the ribs. Besides that, he was stabbed in the back, through his shoulder blade and out his chest with a spear.» She laughed bitterly. «At least it was a ‘clean’ wound. Not many bone fragments or other debris. Those Grik spears are sharp!» The tears came then, in spite of all she could do.

  Bradford sat beside her and put his good arm around her shoulders. «You care a lot for him, don’t you, my dear?» He spoke in a kindly voice.

  «Of course I do,» Sandra whispered, answis. all.»

  The sun finally rose and showed for all to see the results of the Battle of Aryaal. By late morning, the skuggiks had arrived in force, and soon there were so many even Bradford couldn’t watch them anymore, so sickened did he become. Beyond the barricade and across the plain, all the way up to the base of the wall that surrounded Aryaal, a seething mass of raucous scavengers feasted on the thousands of Grik corpses underneath the brilliant sun and cloudless sky. The ground itself came to look like one huge corpse, working with maggots as the light gray skuggiks capered and hopped among the bodies, gorging themselves on the remains. The smell was overpowering, but the sounds the creatures made while they ate were even worse.

  Jim Ellis walked, still limping a little from the wound Kaufman had given him, up to the awning that served as a hospital tent. There he found Rolak, pacing anxiously back and forth while Chack stood in one place and spoke quietly to him. Jim had met the Lemurian bosun’s mate only the night before, but he didn’t feel the least bit ridiculous returning the sharp salute Chack gave him when he joined them.

  «Good morning, sir,» Chack said. There was a blood-soaked bandage on his shoulder, and he wore his battered doughboy helmet with a jaunty air. Over his other shoulder was slung a long-barreled Krag-Jorgensen and a Navy cutlass was belted around his blood-spattered kilt.

  «Good morning, ah, Mr. Chack.» Ellis gestured at Rolak, who had stopped his pacing and was now looking at him. «What’s with him?»

  «He is anxious to see the captain.»

  «Me too,» Jim said with feeling. He glanced at his watch. «I guess we’ll get to in about fifteen minutes. I got word there’s an officers’ call at twelve hundred hours.»


  Chack nodded. «Yes, sir, but not in the tent. It’s down at the left flank of the breastworks, close to the water. I’m directing everyone there as they arrive.»

  Jim Ellis looked at him in surprise. «You mean they carried the captain over there in the shape he’s in?» he demanded.

  Chack blinked. «He walked.»

  Matt was seated stiffly on a stool near where Ellis had placed the.30-cals the day before. His left arm was bound tightly to his side so he couldn’t move it, even accidentally, and risk opening his wounds. His sunken eyes and the purplish-yellow bruise that covered the left side of his face made his pain clearly evident in spite of the clean uniform and fresh shave. Behind him stood Lieutenant Tucker, wearing a disapproving frown, and Chief Gray, supporting himself with a pair of crutches from Walker’s medical locker. His hat was back on his head. Someone had found it while retrieving the wounded and dead and had returned it to him. Lieutenant Shinya stood beside him, wearing a slightly bewildered expression. Somehow, throughout the battle, he’d received only a few superficial wounds, even though he’d been in the thick of it from the start. Often his gaze drifted to the field beyond the barricade, where the scavengers now reigned, and his hand strayed to the hilt of the modified cutlass at his belt as if he wanted to reassure himself it was still there.

  The gathering, or «officers’ call,» was quite large. All the battle line «captains» were there, including Rick Tolson from Revenge. Matt had already praised him and his brave crew, and he and Kas were about o in aboutmost all of the original regimental commanders had fallen and been replaced by their second or third in line. The Fifth Guards had a sergeant in command. There was no representative present for the Fourth, since it no longer existed.

  Keje was there, also on a stool, with his head bound in a bandage that resembled a turban. Nearby stood his daughter, who stared at the striking, black-furred queen of B’mbaado with expressionless eyes. If Safir Maraan noticed the scrutiny, she gave no sign. She was immaculately groomed, which alone was enough to set her apart from most of those present. Her black cape and brilliant armor had been just as muddy and bloodstained as anyone’s the day before, but since then it had been either cleaned or replaced. Now she cut a most imposing figure as she stood, slightly aside, with Haakar-Faask and four of her elite personal guards in attendance. They were not quite as resplendent as she, but they had groomed themselves. Adar was speaking softly to Keje, who nodded without thinking and winced at the pain from the sudden movement.

  Larry Dowden and Lieutenant Garrett were the only officers from Walker that weren’t there and Matt watched nervously as they slowly, carefully, backed his ship from the mouth of the river just a few hundred yards away. Slow maneuvers in any kind of current were difficult for the old four-stacker, but going backward on one engine in a confined space. It was positively nerve-racking for him to watch. Jim Ellis shouldered through the crowd to stand next to him and Matt glanced at his watch. It was on his right wrist for now.

  «I guess everybody’s here that’s coming,» he said.

  «Sorry I’m late, Captain,» Ellis apologized, although it was only just now 1200. «I went over to check how repairs to my shi» He grimaced guiltily. «I mean Mahan—are progressing. I was only told the meeting had moved when I came ashore.»

  Matt made a dismissive gesture with his good hand. «You’re not late, Jim, and Mahan is your ship. No apology necessary.»

  «Thanks, Skipper,» Jim said in a tone of relief. He wouldn’t have been surprised to be relieved. After all, he deserved it. He cocked his head toward Walker and made a wry face. «She’s still my ship too. You don’t think maybe I.?»

  Matt shook his head with an assurance he didn’t feel. «Nonsense. Lieutenant Dowden’s a fine officer. He’ll have no trouble. Now then.» He turned his attention to the gathered officers, who had silently watched the short exchange. There was a sudden commotion in the ring of onlookers and Matt vaguely recognized Lord Rolak as he pushed his way through to stand before him. His fine helmet was dented and the feather plume was gone. Unlike Queen Maraan, he hadn’t refreshed himself in any way since the battle the day before. He stood squarely before Captain Reddy and his eyes blazed with inner torment. He drew his battered sword.

  In an instant Gray had his pistol pointed at the Protector’s face. In the shocked silence, there were several metallic rasps of bolts slamming home as other destroyermen reacted to the threat. Matt raised his hand. Slowly, never taking his eyes from Matt’s, Lord Rolak went to his knees and laid his sword on the ground at Matt’s feet.

  «My sword, my life, my honor — which is all that I am — is yours,» he said in a keening monotone.

  Astonished, Adar hurried to him and knelt at his side. «I am Adar, Sky Priest to Salissa Home and councillor to Keje-Fris-Ar,» uiltily. " him to assume responsibility for their losses — but they were his fault regardless of what had happened. It had been his plan and he was in command. In the face of that surprise and disagreement, he remorselessly tallied the casualties. «Almost four in ten of the brave soldiers, sailors, warriors, and Marines who began the battle were killed or seriously wounded. Seriously enough that most of them are out of this campaign, at least.» He looked at Safir Maraan. «Her Gracious Highness, Queen Protector Maraan of B’mbaado told me her losses were similar. I imagine the same is true for those who followed Lord Rolak. Let no one here doubt for a moment their courage and honor. It wasn’t they who betrayed us, but King Fet-Alcas, who still sits safe behind the walls we preserved for him.» There were angry growls. «But let’s put that aside for now. I think Her Highness has an announcement to make.» He nodded at Adar, who whispered something to the queen. She stepped briskly forward, her cape flowing behind her. When she was in the middle of the circle, she looked around and began to speak in her husky, self-assured voice.

  «B’mbaado is proud, grateful, to have fought beside such warriors as yourselves. Never has there been such a battle, and never have warriors achieved so much against such odds.» She listened to the appreciative murmurs. «B’mbaado is a warlike nation,» she continued matter-of-factly. «We war often. With Aryaal, or the other nations up the coast, so fighting is not strange to us. But this war is unlike anything we’ve faced. The Grik are Evil. They are not even People. They do not fight for, or with, honor but only for death. Beyond that? Territory perhaps. We do not even know. We do know what happens to those they vanquish.» She took a breath. «For the first time, when the Grik came here, B’mbaado faced a war it did not want, was not prepared to fight, and knew it couldn’t win. We even tried to join forces with our most bitter rival, Aryaal, because we knew that only together might we have a chance.» She paused. «But it was to no avail. They were too many. We knew it was just a matter of time until Aryaal fell, and then B’mbaado would be next. I brought the Six Hundred, my personal guard, to help delay that day as long as possible, but in reality all hope was lost.» She turned to look directly at Matt.

  «Then you came. Not for loot or conquest, or for anything from us at all. You came to help!» She shook her head and blinked with remembered surprise. «Sea folk!» She glanced quickly at Jim Ellis. «The other iron ship had been here for a time and we knew it had great power, but in our shortsighted, uncurious way, neither Aryaal nor B’mbaado had any use for it or its people once we knew it would not help either of us against the other.» She blinked apology at Jim. «Besides,» she said, «it was badly damaged. Every day I expected to look out and see that it had sunk. When the Grik came, it tried to help us against them, but it couldn’t move. All it could do was use its power to keep a passage clear between Aryaal and my home.» She bowed to Jim Ellis. «For that, I thank you.»

  She looked back at Matt, and again at the surrounding officers. «But then you came, with yet another iron ship, and the great Homes of the sea folk. You erased the Grik from the bay! It was the greatest thing I ever saw. I am sure that were it not for Fet-Alcas’s treachery the battle for Aryaal would have been just as one-sided, and just as complete.» />
  She paused and blinked significant resolve. «I have come to realize that this war you fight to destroy the Grik forever is not just a war for honor, as we’ve so often fought, but an haraan, Queen Protector of the People of B’mbaado, beg you will accept my nation and my warriors into your Grand Alliance to destroy the Grik menace once and forever.»

  There were appreciative howls and stamping feet, and the humans that could clapped their hands together. Matt stood and watched while the queen bowed formally, acknowledging the praise, and he managed a smile. Behind it, however, as he so often did, he was considering ramifications. The B’mbaadans were considerable warriors. Much like the people of Madura were reckoned in the world he came from. The question was how best to integrate them into the shield wall. They would have their own ideas how to fight, and he hoped they wouldn’t prove too difficult to teach the new way of fighting, as they’d done with the others. If the battle had taught them anything at all, it was that the tactics Matt had suggested and Shinya and Alden had drilled into their troops worked. The last thing they needed was a gaggle forming part of the line.

  Surprisingly, Queen Maraan immediately answered the question for him.

  «I was, of course, impressed by the skill and courage with which you fought,» she said. «As an ally, might I presume you will teach us these skills of war?»

  Matt stirred with relief when Adar told him what she had asked, and he cleared his throat. «Certainly, Your Highness. I’m sure something can be arranged.» He waited until Adar began telling the queen what he’d said. «Lieutenant Shinya?» he whispered quietly.

  Shinya stepped up beside him. «Sir?»

  «See to it, if you please. Set up an abbreviated drill for our new allies. Or if they’re willing, maybe we can integrate the B’mbaadan troops directly into our existing regiments, at least for now. Sort of a ‘jump right in’ form of basic training. God knows, we need the replacements after yesterday.» While he spoke, he noticed the queen of B’mbaado staring at Chack with as close to an expression of interested speculation as her face was capable of. Perhaps Adar had mentioned him? Maybe she’d asked about the powerful young Lemurian who stared brazenly back at her from beneath the jaunty angle of his dented helmet. «I know you’ve learned to speak ’Cat pretty good, Lieutenant,» Matt said in a thoughtful tone, «but use Chack as your liaison. If you want him to keep the Second Marines that’s fine with me — hell, he helped train them — and that’d be a good outfit to put their officers in to work them up.»