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CHAPTER TEN

BATTLE PLANS

“Ten-hut!” Master Sergeant Bisso said crisply. He wore new stripes, sewn by a local seamstress. Rick had decided some promotions were in order to make his command structure a little clearer.

Rick strode into the meeting room, formerly the great hall of the shoreside palace overlooking the berthing area of his fleet. The Roman high command had been invited to the Doge’s Palace, to receive a welcome suitable for the Heir of Caesar.

And we’re here on San Giorgio Island, Rick thought. Could take that as a snub, if I really wanted to, but what the hell. The opportunity’s too good to miss.

He glanced out a window as he headed for the long table at one end of the big room. Unlike the main island, San Giorgio had little high ground. When the sea rose, the island’s highest point would be no more than a few feet above water level. All of the buildings on it were made of stone, though, and looked as if they might be stable even when their foundations and lower floors were underwater.

If the ocean doesn’t rise higher than the indicated high-water marks, this will still be a city, with canals rather than streets.

“As you were,” he said as he reached his waiting chair at the table and sat. He looked around the room as other people took their seats. Nobody here but us star lords. Wait, someone’s missing . . .

“Where’s Ms. Spirit?” he demanded.

“She was invited, Colonel,” Warner said.

“How?”

Warner nodded to Harrison, who stood.

“Colonel, me and Cal Haskins went over to the palazzo she’s staying in. I took the paper myself, and I put it in her hands myself. She was very nice about it. She said Senator Avanti would see that she got here safely and offered us lunch.”

Rick turned to Haskins.

“She say anything to you?” he asked.

“Not one blessed thing, Colonel,” the Black man said.

Have to think about that later, Rick told himself, then turned to Major Mason.

“Glad to see you all made it in safely. Any problems?”

“None, Colonel,” Art Mason said. “Other than that I smell some panic. Nikeisian types running around saying the pirates are coming, maybe in hours.”

“Don’t doubt it,” Rick said. “And I’m sure some of our own people wonder why we’re sitting around in a meeting instead of running around ourselves. Well, we’re in a meeting because I want to be sure while the Romans are busy that we all understand the situation. We have a few hours to plan. If you want to know something or you have anything to offer, speak up! I don’t want the Romans to doubt that we know what we’re doing when the time comes to lay out our official plan. Even if we know better.”

There was subdued laughter.

“When does the balloon go up?” Mason asked.

“The pirates are certainly coming, maybe outside the harbor entrance by dawn,” Rick said, “but they won’t be inside before morning. I’d guess noon tomorrow, assuming they’re smart enough to want to hit us at high water. We plan for that, anyway.

“So.” He turned his attention to the entire group. “We don’t have long before we have to start meeting with the Romans and the Nikeisian fleet people, and I think we’ll be better off if we get our story straight before we bring in outsiders.”

“Considering how little we know about naval warfare, that’s a splendid idea,” Baker said, and Rick nodded to him and Lieutenant Martins.

“None of us are experts in a naval fight, so it’s fortunate we have a training aid, courtesy of our British friends. Major?”

He looked at Baker, who nodded back.

“Yes, Sir. Leftenant Martins, please come forward.”

The young lieutenant stood and walked to the front. His first two steps were uncertain as all eyes turned to him, but uncertainty vanished into the camouflage of a stiff, upright boarding-school posture. He sat in a chair next to Rick, maintaining the same upright posture, and drew the same binder he’d handed Rick in Taranto from his pocket. He placed it on the table next to the map of Nikeis and the bay, flipped through a few of the pages, then drew a grease pencil and a rag from the same pocket and looked at Rick.

“Colonel,” he said, and Rick nodded for him to proceed.

“Sir,” Martins continued, “I understand the mission is to retain control of the containers at all costs.”

“It would also help if we could get them back to the mainland,” Rick observed, and Martins nodded, jotting grease penciled notes into the field manual.

“So our essential tasks include defending the containers,” Major Baker took the cue, “and the ships to carry them back. Specifically the ship Nikeis modified to move them here.”

“We’ll have to keep a fleet in being to guard those ships,” Art Mason chimed in.

“So for the moment, we need to defend Nikeis,” Jimmy Harrison said.

“Why not just take the contents of the containers and leave?” Martins asked in a neutral tone. “We could leave the empty containers behind.”

Clavell and Harrison looked sour, and Saxon blinked in shock. The room was silent for a moment, then several people murmured in approval.

“The Romans have an alliance with Nikeis,” Warner said. “I don’t know Publius as well as you do, Skipper, but I doubt it would sit well with him if we just cut and run. And those are his ships. He’d have to come with us.”

“Agreed,” Rick replied. “We might or might not be able to square it with him, but abandoning one ally is hardly the way to cement an alliance with another.”

“And for that matter,” Mason interjected, “is Taranto that much easier to defend than Nikeis? Here we have the Nikeisian militia. On the mainland we wouldn’t.”

Of course, on the mainland we wouldn’t have to leave Saxon’s goodies in Taranto, either, Rick thought. I doubt the pirates would care to follow us too far inland! Probably better not to mention that, though.

“Tactically, cutting and running might appear to be a better option,” he said out loud. “Strategically, though, the consequences of abandoning an ally would be bad. Besides, we’d have to fight our way out; the Signory won’t let go of those containers easily.”

“Very well, I’ll list maintaining alliances as a mission constraint,” Martins said, jotting more notes. “Any changes in our tactical situation since we were given this mission?”

Someone chuckled and most of the room smiled at the tension-relieving absurdity of the question.

“We have a better idea of when the enemy will arrive and a better estimate of their forces,” Baker said. “And a better estimate of friendly forces. But the mission remains the same.”

“So our mission statement is as follows,” Martins read from his notes. “Defend the cargo containers, defend Nikeis, maintain our alliances, and retain the means to move the containers to Taranto in the face of an enemy fleet.”

“That’s good enough for now,” Rick agreed.

“So, factors to consider,” Martins said. “Enemy forces. It’s estimated we face over one hundred ships and fifteen thousand men from at least three nations.”

Yeah, Rick thought. And I still don’t know how this coalition came together so fast. Does someone else have radios? Are we all just pawns in some galactic game?

“Like I said before, some of the men on those ships are slaves,” Warner pointed out. “They’ll be less likely to fight.”

And what the hell am I supposed to do about them, damn it? They sure as hell didn’t choose to get involved in this.

“Friendly forces?” Martins said.

“The galleys and those harbor boats—the fustas they told us about,” Rick replied. “Ashore, they have about five hundred professional halberdiers and crossbowmen. The halberdier regiment we saw at the Battle of Ottarn is in Pavino, which is good and bad. We could use them here, but there’s always the chance the armada could take Pavino as a staging base if we don’t hold it. So that leaves us with the rest: irregular forces and militia formations.”

“Yes, Sir, they do have militia,” Harrison said. “That’s every man in the city. They all have some weapons, even the boys. Spears, mostly. They drill every month—some months girls join the boys and practice fire drill with buckets. Other months it’s military drill with spears, a few shields, but mostly spears. In theory, we’re talking up to fifteen, maybe twenty, thousand. Can’t say I’ve been much impressed, but you never know.”

“Probably fair, Colonel,” Clavell said. “But they do know the city a lot better than we do and probably a lot better than any pirate.”

“A valid point,” Martins acknowledged. “And we have the Roman ships and the galleys we captured en route.”

“Plus a thousand Roman soldiers, plus eighty-odd star lords, counting the Gurkhas,” Mason added. “And two hundred musketeers, a hundred Tamaerthan archers, and the Colonel’s personal guard.”

Martins nodded and kept writing.

“Relative Capabilities,” he said. “The pirates certainly have numerical superiority, especially if the militia doesn’t stand its ground.”

“True,” Baker said, “but their force is as much a polyglot improvisation as ours is, and much larger. Controlling it will be a serious challenge, particularly if a goodly portion of it are pirates. Discipline will be suspect, at the least.”

“How will that affect how they organize to fight?” Mason asked. “For that matter, how do galleys usually fight?”

Jimmy Harrison stood, and Rick nodded to him.

“I think I can offer something on that,” Harrison said. “Most of what I know I saw on the big paintings in the Doge’s Palazzo. I was studying them while Lance was teaching. Colonel. Some of those paintings get into a lot of detail, and every one of them makes it plain, naval battles are like land battles. They get close and swarm in. Try to ram, lots of crossbows and bows as they close, but mostly they try to board. In a swarm, Colonel. Then it’s close-in fighting. Smaller ships bring up reinforcements when the original forces get thin, and then it’s a race, who can throw in the most troops to take over the ship. After that, it’s on to the next one.”

“Sounds like a mass cavalry battle,” Mason offered. “But once engaged, forces are even harder to recall.”

“In this case, the sea and the wind have a major effect, as well,” Martins added.

“And leadership will have to be in the front.” Mason nodded. “No radios.”

“What about our own forces?” Rick asked. Need to watch the pace. Hard to balance getting the right inputs from everyone without getting stuck in rabbit holes and wasting what little time we have.

“To start,” Baker said, “our forces may be thrown together, but each element has a well-established chain of command, assuming we don’t mix them. Further, we have the benefit of the motivation of survival rather than greed.”

“And we know one thing,” Larry Warner said. “Sir.”

“What’s that?”

“We have as much experience as anyone on this planet on using massed rifle fire against a galley,” Warner pointed out, and Major Baker nodded with a chuckle.

“I should have brought that up myself. Good point, Mr. Warner.”

“Noted,” Rick said. “And the effect was decisive.”

“Until we run out of ammo,” Bisso muttered.

“Will they stand against that kind of firepower?” Warner asked.

“Chancy to rely on their not standing,” Lieutenant Martins said.

“I agree with you, Lieutenant,” Rick said. “The one thing we can’t risk is being overrun, land or sea. The pirates don’t know what they’re facing, so rifle fire will be a surprise to them. But until that happens, they have no reason to be overly cautious about attacking. And in any event, they have to know their biggest advantage is numbers. Assuming they have any intelligence at all, they’ll try to swarm us. No reason not to.”

“We’ve got other weapons,” Warner continued. “We have the LMG, the Brens, and the Carl Gustav. Mortars, too, if they get ashore.”

“Might not want to use mortars inside the city,” Rick observed.

“No, Sir,” Warner agreed. “But it’d be best of all if we kept them from ever getting there. And one hit from the recoilless, and a ship will be out of it.”

“Probably,” Mason qualified. Warner looked at him, and Mason shrugged. “Taking a hit from Carl Gustav would have to be a major psychological shock, Larry. But it’s a lot smaller than one-oh-five and these ships are built pretty tough. Sure, hit them in the right place, and they’re out of it, but that could be easier said than done. If we had any Willie Peter left for the recoilless, I’d be more confident of taking them out with a single hit. White phosphorus has that effect on a wooden ship, and no way in hell to put out. But unless you hit ’em center of mass, and preferably below the waterline, you could probably blow lots of bits and pieces off without actually knocking them out.”

“And, again, only until we run out of ammunition,” Martins pointed out. “We’re still evaluating what we have to work with. Until we’ve done that, we can’t properly develop possible courses of action, and we certainly shouldn’t be choosing one at this point.”

“But—”

“Larry,” Rick intervened. We don’t need Warner and Martins butting heads at this point. Need to get Larry thinking about a task; strategy and tactics aren’t his thing. “I’m confident that between you and Mr. Saxon you can come up with some additional surprises. Mr. Saxon, do you have any magic in those containers you can whip up in the next few hours?”

Saxon had been trying to hide in the background, and he seemed embarrassed at having been brought into the foreground, instead.

“Well, we have some diesel fuel in the containers,” he said, quietly at first. “It’s supposed to be for the generator.” His voice became more forceful as his thoughts solidified. “And some white gas for our cooking stove . . . If we can find some strong alcohol and bottles, I can combine it with tar from the Arsenale to make some Molotov cocktails.”

“Sargent Clavell,” Rick said. “You mentioned the Nikeisians were experimenting with gunpowder. I think it’s time they put some of their cards on the table. We’re going to need all they have if this is going to work.”

“Colonel,” there was a note of caution in Warner’s voice, “we don’t know what the quality of their powder’s going to be like, and we don’t have time to test. Could foul our muskets.”

“Noted.” Rick nodded. “I don’t intend to use it for our guns. I do intend to make some surprises for the invaders.”

Rick turned back to Clavell and Harrison.

“Remember when you traded with the Nikeisians for that shipment of bird guano for the University?”

“Who could forget?” Clavell grimaced. “Tons of bird crap that smelled to high heaven, but it turned out to be great fertilizer.”

“Do they still have any?”

“I’m sure they do, but why?”

“Mr. Saxon, do you think you can do anything with bird guano and tar?”

“Yes, I do,” Saxon said with a smile. He paused and thought for a moment. “The results won’t be as explosive as refined petroleum, but it would make for a pretty good firebomb. And, like I said, we have some diesel fuel if you want real explosives.”

“Larry,” Rick said, “work with Mr. Saxon to get as many of those cocktails and bombs together as possible. Sargent Clavell, get with the provisioners the Nikeisians have assigned to us. Make sure Mr. Warner and Mr. Saxon get whatever they need. These firebombs and explosives might just be the edge we need.”

“Colonel,” Warner pointed out, “the Nikeisians are certainly going to be able to copy us.”

“It’s a risk we have to take,” Rick replied, then turned back to the rest of the group.

“What else? How about nonfirepower things?” he asked and saw Baker nod in agreement.

“We’re defending an island fortress,” Mason said. “That’s a pretty fair advantage.”

“Unfortunately, those fortresses and mud-flat defenses are going to be less effective than they might’ve been,” Rick pointed out. “You’d think they’d have at least chains across the canals into the lagoon, but I haven’t seen any sign of them. And the forts on the approaches don’t seem to have been well maintained.” He shook his head. “I’m wondering if there may have been a bit of ‘the wooden walls of Athens’ in their thinking.”

“May have been, Sir,” Mason said. “But Lance was telling me about what all they’ve got built up on top of those hills. Sounds to me like we could probably evac most of the civilians and pack ’em in up there. That’d at least get them out from underfoot and make moving our troops around the flats a lot easier.”

“Another good point.” Rick nodded. “Of course, there’s still the little problem of how we hold the flats.”

“I think we can be confident in the discipline of the Roman forces as well as our own,” Baker said. “Other than motivation for defending themselves, I can’t speak for the Nikeisian forces.”

“The Romans have a pretty healthy respect for Nikeisian ships,” Rick replied.

“And we have some nonkinetic capabilities which can enable our allies,” Martins offered.

“Go on.”

“We have watches for timekeeping, and compasses which seem to work even here on an alien planet, so—”

“There has to be a magnetic field for life to exist,” Warner put in. Rick gave him a “not now” look, then nodded for Martins to continue.

“The bell tower on the Doge’s Palazzo gives us an advantage in height of eye for command-and-control,” the lieutenant said. “We also have binoculars, radios, signalmen, and signaling rockets.”

“The top of the bell tower’s about a hundred feet above sea level. What does that make the visual horizon?” Rick asked, thinking about the view from its top. Judging distances could be hard enough under any circumstances; with only a featureless stretch of seawater, it got even more difficult, and he wanted a harder number if they were going to incorporate it into their planning.

Martins pulled out a pocket calculator and punched numbers.

“Approximately twenty-one and a half kilometers to the horizon, Sir,” he said. “Thirteen and a half miles.”

“There’s an even higher tower available,” Clavell offered. “It’s up in the upper city, off the Palazzo San Marco Maggiore. Has to be over two hundred feet above sea level. Probably closer to three.”

“Make that twenty-eight kilometers—seventeen and a half miles,” Martins said. “Thirty-five kilometers, at three hundred feet. And with the three-twenty mounted that high, we could bloody well send a signal back to the mainland. Can’t do that with the handhelds, though, because they’re outside its frequencies. But even the civilian base repeater ought to give us a good hundred fifty kilometers from that height. Certainly enough for our tactical needs, at least.”

“How high are most ships’ lookouts?” Mason asked.

“Maybe . . . sixty or seventy feet, max,” Harrison said.

“So that would be just over fifteen kilometers,” Martins said.

“Which means the Colonel would be able to see twice as far as the enemy commander,” Baker observed, and Rick glanced at him. You guys are maneuvering me into a box, probably with good reason, he thought.

“Okay,” he said out loud, “what’s next?”

“It’s not just the land and the sea,” Baker said. “It’s the interface between them. Tricky place to be.”

The major’s eyes were looking up and to the left, as if he were remembering something vividly.

There’s a story there, Rick thought. Okay, I’ll bite.

“Tell me about it.”

“When a fleet conducts an amphibious landing, it’s at its most vulnerable,” Baker replied. “Out to sea, it can maneuver, but once it puts troops ashore, it loses that maneuverability.”

“Weren’t you at Port San Carlos, Sir?” Martins asked.

“Back in 1982.” Baker nodded, and looked at Rick. “Argentina captured several of our islands in the South Atlantic, the Falklands, and we sent a naval task force to take them back. At some point, we had to put troops ashore to remove the Argentines. The fleet was able to fight pretty well when we had room to maneuver, but once we assaulted a port in the middle of the main island, Port San Carlos, the fleet was essentially stuck in place, unable to maneuver while we reinforced and supported the troops ashore. We called it Bomb Alley. The Argie Air Force knew exactly where to find us and concentrated their effort on the ships sustaining the landing. The troopships in particular. Fortunately, they made some mistakes and we were successful. I was with another Gurkha regiment at the time.”

Argentina and Great Britain? Rick thought. Wonder what else has happened since we got abducted. Have we really been gone for fourteen years? He recalled the conversation between Martins and Warner about the collapse of the Soviet Union. In the end, the United States won the Cold War. So much has changed, both on Earth and here on Tran.

“The point is,” Baker continued, “that our opponents are coming to us, and they’ll have a real challenge when they cross that frontier. Think of it as crossing a river or a moat, but immensely thornier.”

“And they’ll have to make multiple river crossings in this case,” Mason observed, pointing to the map on the table. “If we can maintain control of the inner lagoon, they’ll be on foot and channeled to the bridges. It would be like fighting from the outer courtyard to the inner keep in a motte and bailey fortress.”

“Good point,” Rick said. “Let’s take the analogy further. If the outer lagoon is the castle wall, we need the containers in a keep.”

“So we need to get the other two containers to San Marco,” Mason said. “Be even better if we could get them to the upper palazzo.”

“Not enough time to move them up that slope,” Baker objected.

“You want to make walls with them, Colonel?” Mason asked.

“Yes. This building looks as if it would burn. Stone walls, but all this paneling and tapestry is flammable. And there was plenty of flammable material in the Doge’s Palace. Mr. Saxon, how fireproof are these containers?”

“Colonel, I have no idea,” Saxon said, shaking his head, “but I’d sure hate to try that experiment.”

“I would, too, and we have no idea what the pirates can do by way of pyrotechnics. The Romans throw fire pots, so we have to assume the pirates can do the same, and if they can, and they hit a palace that isn’t fireproof, we could lose anything inside it. We know the containers are made of a good steel, though, so they can be a part of the fortification, and I think they’d be safe against a couple of hits with fire pots in the open. They don’t have to stand up to firearms, and the rise in sea level means we’ll have plenty of water nearby. Anyone disagree?”

“They might have Greek fire,” Warner said. “Water doesn’t put it out.”

“What does?”

“Sand, maybe. And dirt. But it may have its own oxidant—”

“All right, Mr. Warner. Work with Sergeant Clavell to appoint a fire squad and have them gather equipment to fight that kind of fire. Anyone else? Can we hold the Doge’s Palace?”

Harrison shrugged.

“I’d sure try,” he said. “It’s built like a fortress anyway. Put the containers out in front of it like a wall, rifleman between them, musketeers in a block—Colonel, none of these pirates have ever been in a firefight before. I doubt they’ll stand more’n one or two volleys.”

“I don’t know about muskets, but I shouldn’t think they would stand up to massed rifle fire any better than Ganton’s army did when we first encountered it,” Baker said. “Which is to say not at all. At the same time, Colonel, whatever we do, understand that we have no more than two hundred rounds per man. And not every round will kill an enemy.”

“Plus, our Gurkhas can’t be in two places at one time,” Rick noted. “Let’s move on. What’s next on your checklist, Lieutenant?”

“Time and—” Martins began, then paused as Cal Haskins raised a hand.

“Yes, Mr. Haskins?” Rick said.

“Colonel, I understand about getting the containers outside buildings that could burn,” Haskins replied, “and I understand the pirates don’t have guns. But these containers’ walls ain’t all that thick.”

“Oh. How thick are they?”

“Sides are twelve or fourteen-gauge,” Haskins replied. “Call it a tenth of an inch, max.” He shrugged. “Plenty to take care of occasional bangs and dings, but I dunno how well it’d hold up to heavy damage.”

“Crap, Skipper.” Mason grimaced. “That’s only about half as thick as a Drantos breastplate!”

“And a heavy crossbow bolt can penetrate one of those if it hits just right—or just wrong, depending on your viewpoint,” Rick acknowledged.

“Yes, Sir. So can a pile-headed arrow from a longbow, but at least any of them should be on our side.”

“One or two hits like that probably wouldn’t do catastrophic damage,” Saxon said. “They’d have to hit hard enough to punch all the way through and then hit something critical inside. But I can’t guarantee that wouldn’t happen. And even if it didn’t damage anything, it would break the weather seal and let a lot of moisture in. I don’t think exposure to saltwater would do the contents any good.”

“And if we place them in the open in the Palazzo San Marco, they’ll be in standing water at high tide,” Baker said thoughtfully. “Punch a few holes, flood them—”

He shrugged, and Rick nodded. Damn, they’re right. Of course, those containers are what the pirates are here to grab. They probably wouldn’t want to wreck them any more than we would. But accidents happen.

“All right,” he said after a moment. “I still don’t want them anywhere something could burn down on top of them, but we obviously don’t want them anywhere else where they’re likely to be damaged. What about this? We haul them into the Palazzo San Marco and put them directly in front of the Doge’s Palace. That gets them out of the open and away from fire hazards. Then we throw up breastworks in front of them for our actual fighting positions. God knows there are plenty of paving stones here in the city and I’ll bet they’ve got a whole stack of timbers in the Arsenale, and we’ve got a lot of hands that can pile them where we need them.”

“If the pirates figure out where they are, they’ll act like a magnet,” Warner pointed out.

“Might not be a bad thing,” Mason replied. Rick looked at him, and he shrugged. “Anything that channels them into predictable approaches has to help us, Sir.”

“So long as it doesn’t attract overwhelming strength,” Baker said, nodding in approval.

“All right,” Rick nodded back, and returned his gaze to Martins. “You were saying the next item was?”

“Time and Space,” Martins replied.

“Like I said, we expect them to arrive around noon tomorrow.”

Mason stood.

“Colonel, you’re not concerned about a night attack?” he asked, and Rick grinned.

“Major Mason, that’s the same thing I asked the Nikeisian admiral, that Senator del Verme. He said he hoped they’d be stupid enough to try a night attack, but the difficulties of getting around the lagoon are pretty well known among mariners. No pirate’s going to try that at night. They’ll attack in daylight, probably at high tide, which is just after the noon of the True Sun. Yes, I know, overconfidence is the key to defeat. Del Verme knows that, too. He has picket ships out searching, just in case. We’ll have warning if the pirate fleet gets close enough to be a danger.”

Mason sat, but Baker frowned, and Rick looked at him.

“Major?”

“How far out are his pickets, Colonel?”

“He doesn’t have an unlimited supply of ships,” Rick replied. “He knows the pirates’ probable approach bearing, and he’s put an advanced screen about thirty miles out on that bearing. The ships in it are spread pretty thin, but he has an inner picket line fifteen miles out that’s a lot thicker.”

“Then I suggest we reinforce the inner picket with some of the Roman triremes and equip them with some of your signal rockets. A lookout on that tower Sergeant Clavell mentioned should be able to see rockets at least eighteen or nineteen miles out to sea once they’ve gained some altitude.”

Martins flipped a few pages in his book, looked at a conversion chart, did some quick math, and spoke up.

“If the pirates are making five knots, which is generous, and the outer picket spots them and relays through the inner picket, we should have at least six or seven hours of warning,” he said.

“You and Mason work that out with Junius. If he balks, let me know and I’ll talk to Publius. What’s next?”

“Surprise.” Martins looked up and realized that hadn’t come out right. “Gaining and employing the element of surprise,” he clarified.

“Okay, let’s go with the obvious question.” Rick looked around the room. “Do they know we’re here?”

“There were survivors from our engagement with the pirates near the swamps,” Baker replied.

“And if the reason they’re coming here was lights in the sky, it stands to reason the local star men are going to show up,” Warner added. “But they won’t know exactly where we are.”

“Actually, they’ll know we have the same problems as they do, and galleys don’t normally sail beyond sight of land,” Martins replied.

“You’ve mentioned that before,” Rick said. “Your point?”

“My point is that they’re unlikely to expect us to do that, either, Sir,” Martins said. “But we can see a much greater distance from the towers here in the city than they can from a masthead lookout, and we have radios. We could position the Romans where the enemy doesn’t expect them to be and still maintain command and control.”

“Maybe,” Warner said. Rick—and Martins—looked at him, and he shrugged. “I’m sure we can, within limits, Colonel. But Lieutenant Martins just pointed out that five knots is a generous speed estimate for one of these ships. If we put the Romans too far out, will they be able to intercept the pirates short of the city?”

Martins looked a bit chagrined, but Rick nodded.

“Valid points for us to keep in mind,” he acknowledged. “Let’s move on.”

“Logistics,” Martins said.

“We’re good for food and water, so long as we don’t lose the island,” Mason said. “What we don’t have is any extra ammunition for the star weapons or gunpowder for the muskets, unless we want to use Nikeis powder.”

“Our opposition has a much more difficult situation,” Martins said. “Colonel, your report is that they’re coming from a port two days away. Unless they try and take Pavino or another harbor, and according to Captain Pilinius, their galleys don’t have as much endurance as Roman ships do. They’ll need water, probably even food, and Nikeis is the only place to get them. So they’re in a make-or-break scenario.”

“And if the wind doesn’t work for them and they have to row all night, their rowers are probably going to be tired when they get here, too.” Rick nodded. “Hell of a roll of the dice.”

“If they do take another port to stage through, we’d gain more time,” Martins pointed out. “Probably at least a week. We could do a lot with a week.”

“That’s quite a dilemma,” Baker mused. “Take the ports and gain a base of operations or charge straight in. The smart play would be to acquire the forward base first, but only if they were confident they could hold their alliance together.”

“We’ll assume the Signory intel is accurate and post the pickets,” Rick said.

“Well, that rather brings up another point, Colonel,” Martins said. “Weather.”

“Go,” Rick replied.

“The winds were picking up as we approached the city,” the lieutenant said, “and they’re out of the northeast, not the west, which is the prevailing wind direction at this latitude. There were a few whitecaps, as well, and I saw red skies when the secondary star rose this forenoon.”

“‘Red sky at morning, sailor take warning,’” Warner quoted. “Yeah, that seems to hold true here, as well.”

“So I expect heavy weather is headed our way,” Martins continued. “The current winds are from the northeast. If the enemy fleet comes from the north, they’ll be at least partly upwind of the islands and being blown down on the city. Again, another make-or-break condition for them.”

“And for us,” Rick said. “We can’t move until that storm passes if you’re right, but at least we have a safe harbor.” He grimaced. “All right, file that as a consideration. What about the pirates’ possible courses of action?”

“Without the Romans or the Nikeisians’ input, we’re mostly guessing,” Baker said.

“Corporal Harrison seems to have a pretty good idea of how ships fight around here,” Rick replied. “And as Lieutenant Martins just pointed out, we know their ships don’t have a lot of endurance, so it’s pretty obvious they can’t blockade us unless they capture a nearby port. So they have to make an assault or withdraw.”

“Their limits of command -and -control give them only two viable options, really,” Martins offered.

“Which are?”

“Their most likely course of action is a multi-echelon deep assault directly into the main channel on the north side of the islands. Just as Corporal Harrison said. The other approach would be to deploy a very broad line, with fewer echelons, to envelop the islands and find another way—or ways—in.”

“Okay, what are ours?”

“Fight them at sea,” Warner said. “Turn Ferox into a battlecruiser. Put a platoon of Gurkhas aboard. Add the LMG and Frick with the Carl Gustav. Keep it light—no cargo, minimum food and water, and strip out most of the Roman marines. She can outrun just about anything she sees and outfight anything fast enough to catch her. We send that out and see what the pirates do. We put Major Baker’s Brens aboard the navibus onerārius and they become ships-of-the-line. Assume three Gurkha ships, including Ferox, twenty troopers and an officer in each. That’s three battleships. Nothing they have can touch them. Add Tamaerthan archers to two other ships, makes two cruisers. Six ships-of-the-line.”

“So long as they have ammunition,” Baker observed. “Damn thin battle line, Colonel.”

“Thin, but powerful,” Warner argued.

“If nothing goes wrong,” Bisso muttered. “Damn thin, if you ask me, Sir.”

“You don’t like this, Master Sergeant,” Rick said.

“No, Sir, and that’s a fact. If you ask me, we forget the damn naval battle. Get those containers and all our people into one place and defend that with all we’ve got.”

“Bisso, that’s going to be hard on Nikeis,” Clavell protested.

“No harder than if we go out there to fight at sea and they get past us. I don’t think Mr. Warner’s plan can guarantee they won’t.”

Warner frowned, then shrugged.

“No guarantees,” he admitted. “In fact, some of them are sure to get past us.”

And not your decision, Rick thought. Hell’s bells, I wasn’t even the captain of the track team, and now my decisions could get everyone here killed. Maybe the whole flipping planet. I can’t even run. I’m on an island!

“One thing about Master Sergeant Bisso’s plan,” Harrison said. “We get all those containers together in front of the Doge’s Palace, we’re holding Palazzo San Marco. That’s the center of town. Gives us the most defensive depth we’re going to find.”

“What else?” Rick asked, and looked directly at Baker. You and Martins have something in mind, he thought, and it’s about damn time you came out with it.

“Envelopment.” Baker stood and gestured at the map. “We send the Roman squadron out the sea, to the east, just as soon as we see the pirate fleet. Then they tack due north to get upwind of the enemy. You guide them from the tower, to keep them out of the pirates’ sight the whole way. When the pirates are engaged with the lagoon’s outer defenses, the Romans hit them in the flank. Shortly after that, a Nikeisian squadron comes in from the west, snakes its way around the mud flats, and engages them on that side.”

“Cannae?” Rick mused.

“Precisely.”

“Colonel, what’s Cannae?” Bisso asked.

“Cannae was a battle on Earth,” Rick replied. “Ancient Rome and Carthage were at war, and Hannibal, the Carthaginian general, knew the Romans intended to smash through his army. So he placed a force in front of them to draw them in and had those troops give ground during the fighting. With the Roman attention focused on advancing, he was able to surround them on both sides. When he hit them in the flanks, the Roman legionnaires were compressed together so badly that men died standing up. The whole Roman force was massacred.” He turned back to Baker. “We’d have to put a force in front of them to draw them in.”

“I rather think the containers will draw them in nicely, in a strategic sense,” Baker pointed out with a thin smile. “Tactically, we put the second Nikeisian squadron in a line defending the main channel. The fustas ambush those that make it inside the perimeter. Meanwhile, our troops fight off those that make it as far as the square.”

Who have you been talking to? Rick wondered.

“The key,” Baker continued, “is to let sailors be sailors and soldiers be soldiers. At the same time, reinforcing the Romans with the Carl Gustav, the machine guns, and a few volunteer riflemen would make the squadron very effective when the force flanks the enemy.”

Junius or Publius, Rick decided. Probably both.

“Mr. Saxon’s petrol bombs and firebombs would be most effective in the hands of a force upwind of the enemy,” Martins offered, and Rick swallowed an ignoble urge to glare at both of them.

This was a setup all along. A game of “manage the amateur.” But damn it, they’re probably right.

“Okay, I’m not going to spend a lot of time arguing the advantages and disadvantages of each approach.” He nodded to Warner. “It’s too soon to try experimenting with building a battle line.” He nodded to Bisso. “And there are too many of them to fight them all on land. We’ll go with the Cannae approach. It has the advantage that if we lose the fleet, we can still fight a land battle with most of our forces intact. The Romans get a detachment of riflemen and the Gustav, but the machine guns—and the mortars—stay ashore. Just one question: what happens if the pirate fleet goes with a broad battle line? It’ll be hard to keep the Roman squadron out of sight but still close enough to arrive in time.”

“In that case,” Martins responded, “the enemy fleet’s left wing will be equal in number to the Roman squadron and, at a minimum, the enemy commander will be on the horns of a dilemma.”

Now I’m certain they’ve been talking with the Romans.

“Radios and command structure,” Rick said. “We have nine radios, five shoulder mics, the HF units, one hand charger, and Mr. Saxon’s generator. We’ll need a radio talker, signal corpsmen, and a team of mercs with Admiral del Verme and the same with Fleetmaster Junius—both of them get shoulder mics. Major Baker will have his own radio, as will Major Mason, and the Sergeant Major. Give one to Sergeant Walbrook with the mortars, and the repeater and the charger will go in the tower with me. Lieutenant Cargill, make setting that up and rigging the antenna your first priority; I don’t want any of us losing comms. That leaves three handhelds. Once we’ve had time to coordinate with the militia about the best defensive positions outside the Palazzo itself, we’ll see about distributing them were they’ll do the best for overall coordination. Lieutenant Martins, please work out some simple signals for the rockets with Master Sergeant Bisso.”

“We have half a dozen radios of our own,” Saxon put in. Rick looked at him, and he shrugged. “They’re in the container at the Arsenale right now. I think they’re pretty similar to the ones you have.”

“Then we dig those out as soon as possible and find out if they’ll mesh with yours, Major,” Rick told Baker. “The farther we can extend our radio net, the better.”

“Of course, Sir. Another job for Leftenant Cargill.”

“Art, please dismiss the troops, but I want to have a word with the officers, Mr. Saxon, and Mr. Haskins. Oh, Sergeant Clavell and Corporal Harrison, would you please remain behind, as well?”

Major Mason nodded to Master Sergeant Bisso.

“Ten-Hut!”

Everyone rose.

“Dismissed.”

The noncommissioned officers silently left the room. Master Sergeant Bisso conspicuously remained behind, guarding the door.

* * *

“Major Baker,” Rick began as the door closed, “I’d like to talk about a subject not in your templates. Treachery.”

Martins glanced towards Baker and blushed a little at the sound of that last word, Rick noted. Well, we’ll deal with that later.

“I’m concerned about Miss Spirit’s absence and the potential for trouble after the battle, assuming we win,” he continued, and looked at Saxon. “Why is she here on Tran?”

Saxon shrugged.

“Doctor Lee, back when he was still pretending to be CIA, said she’d help with security. I mean, she’d been a cop. Colonel, I have the same opinion as Cal. I never understood why she wanted to come—well, to go to Africa or wherever it was they were sending us. Or why they recruited her. And she didn’t make much of a fuss about it when we found out this wasn’t a CIA operation after all, that we’d never come home again. I had her figured for a feminist, but when we got here, the first thing she did was flirt with the Senator.”

He shrugged again.

“But she can operate any of the equipment you brought?”

“Sure. None of it’s that complicated, Colonel. She knows enough to get the manuals on screen, and after that it would be simple enough.”

As if I understood a word of that, Rick thought.

“So, if the Signory gets a container, they can use what’s in it?”

“If she helps, yes, Sir,” Saxon said, and Haskins nodded. “She has some kind of education,” Saxon continued, “and she was a San Francisco detective—”

“Uniform, Bart,” Haskins said.

“Okay, uniform not detective, but still she’d have had to pass an exam to get that far. I’d say she can make use of anything we have.”

“And if we use up all our ammo on the pirates, what keeps her and the Signory from taking whatever they want?” Harrison asked.

“You have any reason to think they’ll try, Jimmy?” Bisso asked.

“Not really,” Harrison replied. “They been decent enough so far, but you never know what people will do if the prize is big enough. And them containers are about the biggest prize on this planet and the Signory know it.”

“For the record,” Sergeant Clavell said, “they treated Jimmy and me just fine.”

“‘For the record,’” Rick repeated. “For the record, the Signory kidnapped you and held you incommunicado until I turned up with a fleet and demanded they turn you loose. I’m not exactly thrilled with the way they’ve acted since Mr. Saxon and his containers arrived, Sergeant. Still, Nikeis did send troops to the Ottarn, and they’ve been honest enough in their dealings with us since we got here. But you yourself warned me this is a place full of plots.”

“And assassins,” Mason added. “So what do we do about it? I mean other than keep our powder dry?”

“I don’t know yet,” Rick said. “You’ll think of something, Art.”

Mason grumbled something inaudible, and Rick smiled.

“All right,” he continued. “Mostly I just want to be sure we’re all on the same page where the . . . call them the ‘undercurrents’ are concerned.”

He looked around the circle of faces until everyone had nodded, then turned back to Saxon.

“The first priority is to get all three containers to the Doge’s Palace. Mr. Saxon, your job will be to negotiate with the Signory to get all three of your containers together and carried to San Marco’s. Work with Major Baker on where to place them. And we’ll need some local talent to bring in workmen and materials for the breastworks.”

“Wagon Box Fight,” Mason said.

“Or Jan Zizka,” Warner said. “Only you’ve got a lot better weapons.”

“Who or what is Jan Zizka?” Haskins asked.

“He was a Czech general in the early fourteen hundreds,” Rick replied. “He used armored wagons as a sort of tank with muskets and small cannons. He’d set his wagons in a circle at critical positions, forcing his enemies to come to him and break their teeth. Except that our wagons are going to be behind the front line.”

“Colonel,” Mason asked, “who tells the Signory that we want all those containers?”

“Start with Clavell. He can blame it on Mr. Saxon, and when that sets them off, you can blame it on me.”

“Maybe better to start with you?”

“No. The containers belong to Mr. Saxon, so he should be the one directing the Signory on their disposition. No point in confusing them. Besides, I want to emphasize the fact that he owns them—all of them—and that he means to go right on owning them.”

“And if they won’t let go?” Bisso growled.

“Clavell, try to be nice, but they don’t have any choice on this. Bisso, use what you have to to make that point. We need those containers.”

“I don’t suppose you mean that,” Bart Saxon said. “About who owns what, I mean. When the battle’s over.”

Rick frowned.

“Mr. Saxon, do you have some objection to what we’re doing here?”

“No, Colonel, I don’t. Not really. And there has to be a commander, and that’s most certainly you, not me. Apologies. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No harm done,” Rick replied. “After you work out the movement of the containers, I’d appreciate it if you’d get to work on those incendiaries. Please work with Mr. Warner. He’s developed a few tricks of his own over the years we’ve been here.”

Saxon nodded, and Rick turned his attention to the others.

“I’ll set up my command post in the upper city’s bell tower. McAllister will be with me. Once the sea battle gets close enough, he’ll take out as many steersmen as he can. Warner and Martins, you’ll be my liaison with the Roman squadron. I don’t want Ferox tied down in any melees. Hit them and move on. Don’t stay for a fight. The riflemen are there just to make sure you don’t get boarded. I’m sure Fleetmaster Junius will know what to do.

“Frick and McQuaid will take the recoilless on the Ferox, Art. Find a squad of volunteer mercs to go with them so we don’t lose it. Master Sergeant Bisso, your post will be in the Doge’s Palace off the lower square coordinating with the militia and the musketeers in the buildings flanking the square. The archers will be a mobile formation; I’ll leave them with you to deploy where they’re most needed. We’ll leave the rest of the city to the Signory’s militia, but we’ll stiffen them with small teams of mercs.

“Major Baker, you and your men will defend the containers. Your orders are to hold them at all costs and against anyone.”

* * *

Major Clyde Baker and his lieutenants stepped out of the headquarters palace on the way to rejoin their company. As they reached the courtyard, Baker paused and looked around to ensure no one could overhear them.

“Is it just me, or did Colonel Galloway appear a bit distracted?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir,” Martins agreed. “I think he knows about our conversation with the Romans.”

“Couldn’t be helped, I’m afraid. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to maneuver an American commander into doing the right thing by coordinating with the other coalition partners beforehand. Only in this case, this Yank is quite a bit smarter than those Yanks were. Most of them were so arrogant and stupid it wasn’t all that difficult to simply lead them about by the nose.”

“Major, I didn’t expect it to be so easy when you said you wanted to guide him subtly,” Martins replied. “After all the legends we heard in the Five Kingdoms about the great Warlord Rick, I expected him to be . . . ” The lieutenant shook his head. “I don’t know. More assertive, perhaps?”

“Richard, you need to give the man a bit more credit. He wouldn’t be alive by now if he wasn’t at least as good as others give him credit for being. More than that, he’s wise enough—and willing—to solicit advice and information. Once he’s listened though, he doesn’t muck about in deciding or putting things into motion, either. We gave him a good plan, and he recognized that and accepted it, even after years of making it all up on his own as he goes along.”

Baker paused and looked up. Stars were starting to show as the light from the primary star faded, and his voice was soft as he continued.

“I expect he’s tired as hell—suffering battle fatigue. Wouldn’t you be tired after fighting for fourteen years straight on a primitive and savage planet? But that man’s brain works, and he’s thinking about a strategy that goes far beyond fighting over these little islands. He bloody well doesn’t need his elbow joggled while he does that, either. So we do our part to help him here on the ground, because at the end of the day, what happens to us and this entire damned planet depends on him.”

He looked at the two lieutenants, and they nodded, expressions sober.

“Yes, Sir,” Martins said, and Baker nodded back.

“That said, though,” he said, “perhaps I should have another talk with Publius.”


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