Carnifex

the past, as a matter of fact, they had. Quality control at the factory, however, was never all that great and there had been a number of unfortunate accidents. Mortar firing was all done outside the perimeter, now.

After the cacophony of the ship fitting in Hajipur, Abdul Aziz barely noticed the blasts of mortars and demolitions. Mustafa and Nur al-Deen were fairly used to them. None of the men so much as twitched, even at the largest of the explosions.

Abdul Aziz explained, 'The greatest weakness to the plan, Sheik, is hitting the target's motive power before it notices the threat from the Hoogaboom. The enemy carrier is more than twice the speed of our ship, and based on the tour given to our two undercover reverts, extraordinarily maneuverable.'

'I do not see,' Nur al-Deen huffed, 'why we need to make this extraordinary expenditure to destroy a single ship. A single cigarette boat with a ton of explosives should be enough.'

Mustafa laid a hand on Nur's shoulder. 'It would not be, my friend. We have reason to believe that such a boat would be most unlikely to get anywhere near the carrier unless covered by something like the Hoogaboom. Even if it did, the great infidel in space, High Admiral of Pigs Robinson, assures me that the carrier is sufficiently well built and compartmentalized that it would take as many as three such hits to put it down. There is no chance, none, that we could get three cigarette boats close enough.'

'And,' added Abdul Aziz, 'With two thousand tons of a mix of ammonium nitrate, hydrazine, and aluminum powder, the Hoogaboom need not get all that close to destroy the ship, two hundred meters or so.'

'I still think it's a waste,' insisted Nur al- Deen.

Mustafa stopped walking and turned. 'My friend, one thing I have learned since we began this. Defense does not win. We must attack, and attack, and attack again.'

'Abdulahi is not enthused about the prospect of martyrdom for more of his men,' Nur al-Deen said.

'This is true,' Mustafa agreed. 'But then he, too, must learn that he must attack and hold nothing back. He should study Parameswara.'

'Parameswara isn't being asked for one hundred and fifty suicide bombers,' Nur al-Deen answered.

19/1/468 AC, BdL Dos Lindas

'Security and Economy of Force are principles of war, Captain-san,' Kurita intoned. 'Defense is not.'

Fosa paced the rounds of his bridge nervously. Indeed, he grew more nervous the closer the Dos Lindas approached to shore and the possibility of land-based cruise missiles, torpedoes, or suicide boats. The FSN had been clear that an attack on the fleet was being prepared. Sadly, they could not provide the first clue as to its nature.

'I know that, Commodore. And I know we have to do this. Hell, it was my idea. But I still hate the idea of getting closer to a threat I don't know the nature of.'

Resuming his pacing, Fosa took all of three steps before he stopped and turned. Facing the Yamatan over one shoulder he observed, 'You're taking this all very calmly.'

'I was captain, Battlecruiser Oishi,' was Kurita's only, and completely sufficient, response.

Fosa grunted while Kurita turned his attention back to the contemplation of the eternal beauty of the sea at moments before action.

It was several hours before sunrise. Only one of Terra Nova's three moons shone. In the relative darkness, the sea twinkled with thousands of stars. Kurita amused himself with the notion that the stars were his old shipmates, come to watch him in action before he joined them at the Yasukuni shrine which had been dismantled and sent spaceward from Old Earth so many centuries ago.

Above the winking sea, the Dos Lindas cruised under half power toward the shore. The carrier was blacked out, with not even deck lights showing. Crewmen, who would normally be allowed to smoke on portions of the flight deck were instead confined to air- and light-tight compartments before they could indulge their vile habit.

On deck every functioning Yakamov helicopter sat with engines idling. Forward of them were a baker's dozen of Cricket Bs, the upengined and expanded variant of the Legion's standard recon aircraft. Between the Crickets and the choppers sat four Turbo-Finches with light ordnance loads of about one ton each. None of the aerial troop carriers had more than their crews aboard.

The Cazadors were going in under strength. One half of one of the eight line platoons was detached to The Big ? , though they'd be nearby at sea and could land by rubber boat if needed. Another two platoons were split up among various Yamatan and Haarlemer freighters. Still, with the headquarters and support troops that were going to land, there were just over two hundred Cazadors in the landing force. These waited below, in the hangar deck, playing cards, sleeping, or sneaking off for a quick cigarette as the mood took them.

UEPF Spirit of Peace

'Computer?'

'Yes, High Admiral?'

'Put me through to Abdulahi in Xamar.'

The call went through almost instantaneously; Abdulahi had learned since he'd lost three ships to the infidels' ambushes not to let the High Admiral's warnings pass.

'Yes, Admiral Robinson?'

'Your enemies are moving inshore, between the villages of Sanaag and Gedo. I can't tell which of them is the target. Possibly both are.'

'The villages? What reason could they have for going after villagers?'

Unseen below, Robinson rolled his eyes. Were these people incapable of understanding the nature of the war they were in or the nature of their enemies, the nature they themselves brought forth?

Forcing disdain from his voice, Robinson answered, simply, 'Terror.'

That Abdulahi understood. 'I'll have a column on the road within the hour, High Admiral. Thank you.'

'I don't know that it will do you any good.'

'Perhaps not, High Admiral, but I have to try.'

Again, Robinson rolled his eyes. 'You can reasonably expect them to cover the roads by air, Abdulahi.'

'We have some anti-aircraft weapons mounted on some of our vehicles.'

'I doubt that light ones will be enough.'

BdL Dos Lindas

The Cricket Bs, being the slowest, were the first aircraft to take off. With the carrier's nose into the wind, even fully laden with five Cazadors and a pilot, it was a strain to keep the things from taking off on their own. With Fosa's command, 'Land the landing force,' the deck crew removed chock blocks, the pilots gunned engines, and—fwoosh—the things were gone into the night in a couple of eyeblinks.

The Finches were next to depart. These had superb short take off capabilities, but nothing like the miraculous abilities of the Crickets. They needed every inch of the flight deck they had to get airborne.

Rafael Montoya was lead bird for the Finches, this mission. As usual, he nearly wet himself as his plane reached the end of the flight deck and began to fall to the sea. As usual—now, at least—he maintained control of his bladder as he fought his plane back into the air.

'I have got to find another line of work,' he muttered, once he was sure he was not going into the drink to be ground to pulp underneath his own ship.

Once clear of the ship, Montoya veered left and began a long spiraling climb to five thousand feet. There he loitered until the last of the Finches was airborne. Then, together, the group turned east. If everything worked out, they'd be past the coast and able to turn to make their initial attacks with the sun behind them.

The Yakamovs, with eighteen Cazadors loaded—actually, slightly overloaded— each, took off almost vertically even as the elevators began bringing up the last of the Crickets and Finches for the other part of the mission. Once airborne, the Yakamovs dropped down to skim-the-waves level. One never really knew what the wogs might have bought, in terms of warning radar and air defenses, from somebody or other.

UEPF Spirit of Peace

'They're bringing more aircraft up on deck,' Wallenstein said, as she and the High Admiral watched the carrier's ops in high resolution real time. 'That's . . . . odd. We know they can launch everything more or less at once if they really want to. We've