David Weber - Hell Hath No Fury

"And at the same time, they're going to be looking for someplace they can dig in against counterattack,"

Arthag said. "Someplace with a small enough portal to make defending it practical."

"That's the idea," chan Baskay acknowledged, impressed not so much by Arthag's ability to figure that out as by the Arpathian's ability to figure it out so quickly. "If they can't find one, though, they're planning to use their godsdamned dragons to devastate our supply lines in a running campaign."

This time, Arthag only nodded, and chan Baskay chuckled grimly. If there was anyone in the multiverse who'd understand the niceties of cutting an over-extended opponent off from his logistics base, it would have to be an Arpathian.

"You know," Arthag said after a moment, "this really and truly sucks, doesn't it?"

Five Hundred Neshok watched in profound satisfaction as the remaining prisoners were dragged out of his presence. They had to be dragged; at least two of them wouldn't be doing any unassisted walking until he'd finally gotten the Healers to attend to them. Not that there was any particular rush about that.

He'd had a special holding area of jury-rigged but sturdy cells erected just off his chosen interrogation room. It allowed him to keep prisoners he'd already interrogated segregated from the general population of captured Sharonians. And it also just happened to keep them handy, close enough to hear the results of his troopers' efforts to … persuade the recalcitrant to tell him what he wanted to know.

And, he admitted to himself, hanging on to them here ought to keep any nosy idiots like Five Hundred Vaynair out of my hair.

Sooner or later, he knew, there were going to be questions about his methods. That prick Vaynair would see to that, if no one else did. But by the time that happened, Alivar Neshok would have amassed enough solid, reliable, useful information to make it obvious just how ridiculous Vaynair's potential protests were. They had to have that information, and Neshok knew superior officers remembered subordinates who'd had the balls to do what had to be done, even if the strict letter of the Articles of War had to be bent just a bit in the process.

Two Thousand mul Gurthak already owed him. And the two thousand recognized Neshok's capabilities, as well, as his present assignment clearly demonstrated. But valuable as mul Gurthak's patronage would undoubtedly prove, the fact remained that the Union Army was overwhelmingly dominated by the Andaran officer corps. Adding someone like Two Thousand Harshu to his list of … sponsors would be even more valuable, and Harshu wasn't likely to forget the Intelligence officer whose efforts were about to make him the victor in the opening campaign of the first inter-universal war in history.

His lips quirked in a slight, satisfied smile at the thought, and he nodded to the trooper who was sluicing buckets of water across the floor to get rid of the worst of the mess, then stepped outside to catch a breath of some fresh air which wasn't tainted by the stink of blood and vomit. He had at least five or ten minutes before the next batch of intelligence sources arrived, and he crossed the covered veranda built across the width of the armory and leaned on its railing, watching the activity swirling around him.

The armory buildings formed an island of calm in the midst of all that action for several reasons. One was the result of his own insistence on the need for privacy to let him isolate his interrogation subjects in order to instill the proper psychological attitude. And another, no doubt, was that Thousand Carthos didn't want any of his troopers fooling around with the unknown, alien weapons which had been gathered up from where the slaughtered garrison had dropped them. They'd been hauled back to the Sharonians' own armory and stacked there, where they could be kept under guard, if only to prevent potentially lethal accidents.

He heard a monstrous flapping sound and looked up to see a quartet of tactical transport dragons, towing a pair of cargo pods and escorted by a single, slightly understrength three-dragon flight of reds, heading almost directly north, away from Fort Shaylar and deeper into the universe the Sharonians had called New Uromath. The terrain wasn't especially promising for aerial operations out there, Neshok reflected.

Thanks to their navigation units, Two Thousand Harshu's forces knew exactly where they were, on the upper west coast of Andara, and Magister Halathyn's portal detector told them where to find the next portal headed up-chain. With that information, it wasn't hard to predict that the nearly three hundred miles between Fort Shaylar and the universe the Sharonians had christened Thermyn consisted of exactly the same rainsoaked, heavily wooded terrain. There was no place dragons could set down in that sort of terrain, and the improvements (such as they were) the Sharonians had made to the hacked-out overland trail between Fort Shaylar and the portal were minimal.

None of that worried Neshok particularly, however. There might not be any handy landing zones between here and the New Uromath-Thermyn portal, but there was also no reason for the expeditionary force to need any. The next portal was smaller than Hell's Gate-Magister Halathyn's detector had already told them that much, not that they'd really needed the detectors for that; no one had ever seen a portal Hell's Gate's size, far less one bigger. But his prisoner interrogations had confirmed that it was still the next best thing to ten miles across … and that the so-called "fort" built to cover it was little more sophisticated-or manned-than Fort Shaylar had been. The advanced forces Two Thousand Harshu and Thousand Toralk were sending ahead should find it child's play to slip through a portal that size under cover of night without being spotted.

And the terrain on the far side of the portal was very different from that on this side. Fort Brithik lay in the midst of the vast, level plains of central Andara, which-unlike these miserable, dripping woods or the smoldering desert left by the forest fire still raging in the Hell's Gate universe-was ideal terrain for air-mobile operations. Those same prisoner interrogations had also told them which way to go in search of the next portal beyond Brithik … and where to find the next half-dozen Voice relay stations.

Magister Halathyn's detectors would undoubtedly have pointed them in the direction of the next portal, even without the information Neshok had wrung out of his prisoners. For that matter, the fact that the Sharonians had no dragons meant there were bound to be roads-or at least tracks-to point the way to their next destination. But it was thanks to Neshok' efforts that they knew how far they had to go (and where to look when they got there) to find those never-to-be-sufficiently-damned Voices.

The Voice relay between New Uromath and Thermyn, for example, was on this side of the portal connecting them. The distance was short enough to require only a single relay, but whereas Fort Brithik was built in Thermyn, where there was at least less rain and better lines of sight, the Voice outpost was in New Uromath. As far as the Sharonians knew, there was no real security need to put it under the cover of Fort Brithik's palisades, and by putting the Voice on this side of the portal, he was more handily available for contact from Fort Shaylar or the Voice at Fallen Timbers. Clearly, the Sharonians had decided messages moving up-chain were more likely to the time-critical than messages moving downchain, which explained the Voice's location. He was close enough to the portal that he could easily cross it to transmit messages up-chain or check for messages coming down-chain at regularly scheduled intervals, yet always available at any other time for any potentially critical message from the Sharonian negotiators.