“You two will have to handle it. The defenses are stronger there, and the lizards’ll have to land right in their teeth. It’ll be very difficult to consolidate their force. They already have in the south. I think that’s where the main threat lies.”
Alden turned back to the runner. “First Marines, Fifth Baalkpan and Queen Maraan’s Six Hundred will prepare to advance to support the south wall.”
“Reserves already?” Letts asked.
Pete shook his head. “Do the math. The First Baalkpan and the few Manila volunteers are all we have on the south wall. That’s about twelve hundred, counting artillery. There’s no way they can stand against twenty or thirty thousand. I wish the rest of the Manila troops had arrived in time! We’ll pull the Second Aryaal off the north wall and add them to the central reserve.” He cocked his head to one side when the strange thundering sound resumed. Realization struck.
“Son of a bitch! Amagi must be in range. She’s shelling the fort!”
“Thank you, Lieutenant Brister,” said Shinya between deep, ragged breaths. “You timed that perfectly, I believe.”
Brister waved his hand and grated, barely above a whisper, “Your withdrawal was what was perfect. I never would have believed it.”
Shinya had to strain to hear him. “We lost two of the field pieces,” he brooded. “Their crews managed to spike them, but…” He shook his head. “It was that double load of canister from each of your guns just as we came over the wall that kept them off us long enough to re-form.”
“Later you may admire each other’s prowess,” Rolak growled tersely. His own part in the successful maneuver had not been inconsiderable. “Right now there is still a great battle underway.”
The fighting along the north and west walls of the fort was still fierce, but the pressure was easing. It was as if, sensing greater prey ahead, the majority of the Grik were content to leave the fort isolated and continue their push toward the city. Beyond the fighting on the wall, the seething mass sluiced through the gap and down the road. Midage younglings scurried behind the lines, distributing bundles of arrows. Guns barked, spraying their deadly hail into the flank of the mass, mowing great swaths through the rampaging mob, but for all the attention the bulk of the enemy paid them, they may as well not have bothered. “Cut off and bottled up,” Chapelle grimly observed.
Brister’s runner returned. “The message got through,” he announced with evident relief. “The tower confirmed receipt.”
“At least Baalkpan knows what’s coming.” Brister sighed hoarsely.
A high-pitched, deepening shriek forced its way above the din. It sounded like a dozen locomotives barreling directly toward them with their whistles wide open.
“Holy Christ!” Perry blurted, eyes going wide. “I forgot about the Japs!” He threw himself to the ground. Even as he fell upon it, the earth rushed up to meet him and the overpressure of titanic detonations drove the air from his lungs. Clods of dirt, jagged splinters, and various debris rained down, and a heavy weight fell across his back. For a moment he could only lie there, trying to draw a breath. Finally he succeeded, but the air was filled with chalky dust, despite the damp night before, and he coughed involuntarily. The weight came off and he was dragged to his feet. Chapelle’s face appeared before him, looking intently into his eyes. Then it disappeared. Brister shook his head, trying to clear it, and looked around.
A smoking crater was less than forty yards away, and bodies were scattered in all directions. One belonged to the runner who’d just spoken, and most of his head and part of his shoulder had simply disappeared, as if a super lizard had snatched a bite. Another shell had landed on top of the north wall, leaving a big gap surrounded by dazed and broken troops. He wondered why the Grik weren’t already pouring through, and lurched toward the wall and climbed to the top. “Form up! Form up!” he rasped over and over to those standing near. He doubted they could hear him. Even to himself he sounded as if he were shouting through a pillow. Rolak joined him, clutching his bloodied left arm to his side, and together they stared beyond the wall.
Ironically, most of the shells had fallen on the Grik. More smoking craters, surrounded by dripping gobbets of steaming flesh and shattered bone, formed a rough semicircle beyond the fort, extending about two hundred yards into the gap. Many of the enemy closest to the impact points were stunned into motionlessness, while others tried to force their way back through the press in panic. Those were mercilessly slaughtered.
“Thatis side, a the wall beside one of the guns and peered over it. In the middle distance Amagi was clearly visible, surrounded by her grotesque brood.
“What do you hear?” Rolak asked, and Brister sighed.
“Nothing. It worked. They’ve stopped.” For the moment the only sounds were the screams of the wounded, the crackling of fires, and the surflike noise of the Grik flowing past the wall. He pointed at the bay for Shinya’s benefit. “Look down there. We’ve sunk everything in range! Nothing else can even come into this part of the bay without running onto the wreckage of their friends. The battery’s done all it can! Despite all our shooting, the enemy’s getting past us now by hugging the far shoreline. That’s not in range, although the guys have been giving it hell. If we keep firing, all it’ll accomplish is to get us slaughtered.” He paused and looked at their faces. “Together, counting my gunners, we have close to three thousand troops in this fort. We may all die anyway, but I have an idea that might make it more worthwhile than just standing and getting pasted.” A shout rose up from the other side of the fort.
“It would seem our friends are preparing to return,” Rolak stated dryly.
“Swell. Can the guns on that side of the fort keep firing?” Chapelle asked.
“God, I hope so,” answered Brister. “Just don’t shoot at the bay anymore!”
“I still don’t know what you hope to accomplish by this!” Shinya hissed low, as they trotted back across the center of the fort.
“Maybe nothing,” Brister replied. “Maybe everything.”
Pete Alden’s new forward command post occupied a multistory dwelling belonging to one of Baalkpan’s more affluent textile merchants. Like many of her class, she hadn’t originally been a member of the “run away” party, but she’d joined it quickly enough when Fristar abandoned the defenders. Pete didn’t care. All that mattered was that the dwelling afforded an excellent view of the entire south wall. The enemy facing it continued to swell far beyond the initial force that landed north of the Clump and occupied the fort road. Ever since the fort was cut off, thousands upon thousands of lizards had poured through the gap, up the road, and out through the cut, where they deployed into a mile-wide front with their backs to the jungle. Round shot bounded through their ranks from across the killing field the People had cut with such effort. Each shot killed some of the enemy, plowing through their densely packed ranks, but the fire had a negligible real effect. Pete thought it was probably good for the gunners’ morale, though, faced as they were with what stood before them. If the Baalkpan defenders had a wealth of anything, it was powder and shot for their guns. Let them shoot.
He’d have been happy to let the mortars fire as well, and they might have wreaked some real havoc, but they didn’t have as many of the bombs, and the range was a little far-for now. His reserve mortar teams were rushing from the center of the city, and when they arrived he’d have thirty of the heavy bronze tubes at his disposal. He hoped the copper, pineapple grenade-shaped bombs would dilute the force of the Grik assault when it came, preventing it from hitting his defenses as a cohesive mass. Canister ought to blunt the spearhead; hopefully the bombs would shatter the shaft. No was wait and listen as the reports flooded in.
Chack and Queen Maraan scaled the ladder behind him from the level below. A signaler escorted them to his side.
“The First Marines have deployed in support of the Manila volunteers,” Chack said, saluting. As always, the powerful young ’Cat wore his dented helmet at a jaunty angle, and a Krag was slung over his shoulder.
“The Six Hundred and the Fifth Baalkpan are in place as well,” Safir Maraan reported in a husky tone. She was dressed all in black, as usual, and her silver armor was polished to a high sheen.
“Good,” Alden murmured. “We’re going to need them.”
“It’s certainly shaping up to be a most memorable battle,” the queen observed.
“And how,” said Chack, using the term he often heard the destroyermen use. He stood on his toe pads and peered out over the wall. From across the field beyond came the familiar strident, thrumming squawk of hundreds of Grik horns, and the hair-raising, thundering staccato of tens of thousands of Grik swords and spears pounding on shields commenced. “I think they’re about to come,” he said, turning to Pete. “With your permission?”
“You bet. Give ’em hell.”
