Taylor Anderson - Iron Gray Sea

“What do you see?” Atlaan demanded, trying to look for himself.

“Those bombs are also little aircraft! They are controlled, probably by a Grik lying inside on his belly!”

“Then perhaps they are not bombs! With a pilot-”

“Of course they are bombs!” Keje roared, as much to convince himself as Atlaan of the horrifying madness of the scheme. “They have no engine! They will hit us-or the water. Which do you think they were brought here to try?”

“Ahead flank!” Atlaan bellowed, dashing into the pilothouse. “Right full rudder! Sound the collision alarm!”

Almost calmly now, Keje refocused on the flying bomb he’d been watching and saw it turn toward his ship. He wasn’t prepared when a much closer one, descending through Salissa ’s own smoke, plunged down through the forward flight deck and exploded.

South of the Rocky Gap

India

“So, here we are,” General Pete Alden said softly, unnecessarily, gazing out over the long, narrow, forest-crowded lake. The water was dappled by the last rays of the sun, sinking beyond the mountains to the west, and great, wide trees hung low over the shallows. Angrily squawking duck-shape lizard birds wheeled and darted in rough formations, trying to find undisturbed moorings while weary planes jockeyed toward the open shorelines, their tired engines echoing across the water. Compounding the aggravation of the lizard birds, hundreds of now-free-roaming dino-cows dominated a lot of the shady shallows they preferred, capering and bugling happily in the superabundance of water they apparently craved and had been denied by their former wranglers. Musketry still rattled in the distance, punctuated by the heavy rumble of artillery and mortars.

“Yes, here we are,” observed General-Queen Protector Safir Maraan with sharp irony. She had discarded her black cloak at some point in the fighting that brought them here, and her silver armor was dented and dark. She sounded utterly spent, but she was growing impatient with Pete’s self-recriminations. “We are here, alive, because you bravely and brilliantly saved us from the trap you sent us to,” she said bluntly. “A trap that General Rolak might have warned us against, but didn’t. A trap Colonel Flynn and I should have recognized because it was not dissimilar to one the enemy tried on us before. The Grik grow more… adaptable… than we had thought, were willing to believe, they were able.” Her tail swished irritation at herself. “Now we know. Henceforth, we must design our battles as if we were fighting against ourselves, not thoughtless animals.” She shrugged. “The majority of them may still be such, but those who design their battles are not!”

Pete Alden reluctantly nodded. “I guess. Rolak’s Corps has fully replaced yours, and nothing’ll get past him as long as he has enough ammunition.” He stopped, as if unwilling to admit he’d done something right. “We carted a lot of ammunition out of Madras before…” He shrugged. “We’ve got a fair amount of fuel too, since we didn’t have to worry about hauling water.” Nobody would drink lake water without boiling it first, but there was plenty of it. “We’ve got a good perimeter here, from the Gap down to the river that runs out of this lake,” he continued, “and we rounded up a lot of those dino-cows the Grik were staging in the jungle, so we won’t starve for a while. Eventually, ammunition and fuel are going to be a problem.” He rubbed his neck, then nodded at the lake. “I guess it might’ve been kind of pretty here once, without all the floating junk.”

All of Leedom’s remaining Nancys, battered and dingy, either floated alongside a long “dock” of fallen trees, or choked one of the gravelly beaches they’d been dragged up on to keep them from sinking. Other planes, most from Salissa, had been coming in periodically from Madras, fleeing the approaching Grik. Arracca was overcrowded, and after what happened to Big Sal, her planes had nowhere else to go. Some looked okay, but most showed hard use. One of the latter was trying to touch down now, its overworked engine wheezing and smoking, the control surfaces in rags.

“That will be Captain Jis-Tikkar,” said Safir. “We have comm again at last, and he sent that he was on his way here.” Her large eyes cut toward Pete. “He is the last.”

“Orderly!” Pete shouted. “My compliments to Captain Tikker, and get his ass over here as soon as he steps out of that heap. Make sure you get some water in him-or anything else he wants to drink.”

“ Big Sal? Pete asked when Tikker saluted him.

“Afloat and underway,” Tikker replied. “Somehow.”

Pete had heard that, but it was nice to have it confirmed. Salissa’ s comm was out, but Keje-thank God Keje was safe! — had reported via Scott that his ship was out of danger but was incapable of flight ops of any sort and couldn’t even defend herself. She had taken two direct hits from the crazy Grik gliding bombs, and all her upper works forward of the bridge had burned. There was also serious damage amidships on the starboard side.

“I could see her burning all the way to Maa-draas,” Tikker reported, “but once the rest of the fleet joined her, they brought the fires under control. The entire fleet now retires to Andamaan, except for Scott, a gaas-o-leen tanker, and a few other DDs that will make a run to Trin-con-lee to offload whatever they can for Colonel Maallory’s planes and aircrews.”

“They’re staying?”

“I do not know, Gen-er-aal.”

“Well… but otherwise, we’re on our own?”

Tikker shook his head, blinking denial. “I cannot say, sir. All is still very confused. Three Grik baattle-ships are in Maa-draas, bombarding the empty city”-he snorted and blinked-“and if that were all there was, I think Ahd-mi-raal Keje would remain aboard Arracca. A broader combat air patrol could ensure against more Grik zeps getting close enough to use their gliding bombs-but reports from a picket ship off south Saa-lon say more Grik baattle-ships are on the way. Perhaps they were sent later, or were delayed by breakdowns… Regardless, since the only weapon we had to usefully combat them was Salissa…”

“Yeah,” Pete said. “No sense risking the fleet if we can’t even dent the bastards. But that brings us back to Ben Mallory. His P-Forties could make short work of them with proper bombs. They brought something to Andaman they thought would work-”

“Yes, sir, but they cannot, could not, bring them here. The range was too far to bring the bombs and the fuel necessary to make the trip.”

“Maybe a ‘Clipper’…”

“That is one discussion we monitored between Ahd-mi-raal Keje and Colonel Maallory,” Tikker said.

“Rest assured, Gen-er-aal Aalden,” Safir Maraan told Pete, “Cap-i-taan Jis-Tikkar is correct. Nearly every message we have monitored or received involves relieving this force. It has become the priority of the western war effort. All we have to do is hold out until help arrives, as it surely will.”

Pete smiled at her. She made it sound so easy, but he knew she had no such illusions. She did have faith, though; that was plain. Faith that help would come and they would hold. Pete remembered his earlier mood with embarrassment. Clearly General-Queen Protector Safir Maraan still had faith in him in spite of everything, and he determined then that he would die before he disappointed her.

“We’ll hold,” he said, his voice firm. He gestured out at the lake. “Tikker, you and Leedom have the biggest air wing in the world right now. Even after you strip the wrecks, you’ll have more planes than a carrier, I’ll bet. We brought some fuel out of Madras, and we’ve got incendiaries. Maybe the battleships shrug ’em off, but they kill the hell out of Grik in the open. The guys are digging in like fiends. We’ll see how the Grik adapt to trench warfare.” He grinned. “Which I never was a big fan of, by the way. We’ll let ’em get used to it and see how they like it; then, out of the blue, we’ll knock the shit out of ’em!”