Ben Bova - Test of Fire

“The outdoor life seems to agree with you,” he said, smiling toothily. “You’ve lost your baby fat.”

Alec grunted a noncommittal reply as he glanced around the boat. The forward deck and the top of the cabin were covered with solar cells.

No guns were in sight, but something squat and bulky was covered by a tarpaulin at the boat’s stern. A laser? he wondered.

With two of his own men preceding him, Kobol led Alec down into the cabin. Alec’s two men took up the rear. He saw that Kobol leaned on the cane when he walked. They stepped down into a tight little compartment with foldup bunks locked against the bulkheads and an oversized table jammed between narrow padded benches. Atop the table was pinned a photomap of Douglas’ base.

“We pieced this together from satellite photos,”

Kobol said, sitting down with an audible sigh between his two aides. He put the walking stick carefully by his side. “I think you’ll find this map extremely accurate.”

Alec slid into the bench on the opposite side of the table, flanked by his two men. He studied the map. The photos were very detailed; he could even make out Angela’s house. What were we doing when this picture was taken? he wondered idly.

Another of Kobol’ s men appeared at the hatchway, bearing a tray of sandwiches and brown bottles of beer.

“It’s quite good,” he told Alec, proferring a bottle. “Only slightly alcoholic. One of the first things the natives got running again in the Miami area was their brewery. They use half the wood in the region to keep the place supplied with power.”

Alec sipped at it. It tasted sour and awful. The homebrew at Douglas’s base was far better. He frowned, and Kobol said, with an air of superiority, “You have to develop a taste for it.”

“I’d rather not.”

“We have fresh milk,” said a low voice.

Alec looked up and saw Jameson standing in the compartment’s narrow hatchway. Suppressing a smile, Alec answered, “Fine. I’ll take milk.”

They spent several hours poring over the map.

Alec fitted in all the details he knew about Douglas’s defenses until the map fairly bristled with inked-in lines representing fences, circles and squares that pinpointed watchtowers and firebases.

Kobol looked impressed. “We’ll have to concentrate everything on one massive onslaught — straight up this major road.” He swept his bony hand along the map.

“That’s just what Douglas would expect,” Alec countered. “He’ll stop you here…” he pointed to a spot where the road snaked between firebase-topped hills, “…or here, where the streams and lakes will force you into a narrow line of march.”

Kobol tugged at his mustache. “He doesn’t have the strength to stop us. We’ll have nearly five thousand men by the time we get there.”

“The defense always has at least a two-to-one edge,” Alec quoted at him. “With someone as clever as Douglas you’ll need every man you can get. Remember, he’s been preparing these defenses for years. Why throw the men right into his guns?”

“And what would your military genius suggest?” When Kobol became angry or upset his voice ascended from its normal irritable nasal tone into a positively adenoidal whine.

Alec glanced up at him. “We have an advantage in numbers. Let’s use it! We’ll attack over a broad front, spread Douglas’s troops thin trying to defend such a large area. Bypass the firebases and strongpoints…”

“And have them chop us to shreds?” Kobol flared.

“They can’t. I’ve seen what they’ve got there. No more than ten rounds apiece for most of the heavy guns. They’ll shell us until they’re out of ammunition, then they’ll either have to come out and engage us in small groups or sit on their hilltops and wait until we come after them.”

Kobol said nothing, but his head was rocking back and forth in an unspoken negative.

“The firebases can discourage small attacks,”

Alec went on, “or attacks that are so concentrated that a few high-explosive shells can tear the attackers apart. But a broad, thin screen of attackers, moving quickly and staying as far away from the firebases as they can, will make the firebases almost useless.”

“Makes sense,” muttered one of Kobol’s men, sitting on the bench beside him.

“If he’s right about the ammunition they have for their guns.”

“I’m right,” Alec snapped. “If it’ll make you feel any better, we can grab a couple of the closest firebases the night before the attack. But the others, deeper inside Douglas’s territory, we should bypass.”

Kobol shook his head more negatively. “I don’t like leaving pockets of enemy troops in our rear. They’ll be fully armed and able to…”

Alec slammed a fist on the table. “Dammit, what’s our objective? Capturing hilltops or Douglas’s headquarters? Here’s what we’re after!”

He jabbed a finger at the base. “If we inch along one hill at a time, he can bleed us white and spend all summer delaying us while he gathers strength from the farther countryside. By next autumn we’ll be surrounded and starving. We’ve got to strike hard and fast. Here.” He touched the base area again.

“And those men in the strongpoints will just sit where they are and let us walk in?”

“That’s right,” Alec insisted. “There’s only ten or so men in each post. No more than twenty apiece. But they’re heavily armed. If we try to attack them, they can hold us up until Douglas brings his reserves onto the scene. But if we bypass them, what can a dozen or two men do to a whole column of troops? If they come down from their hilltops to attack us, they’ll be cut to pieces.”

“They still have that artillery.”

“After the first half hour of fighting, the artillery will be out of ammo.”

“They could still knock off a lot of trucks and men.”

“Not if we move fast and stay spread out.”

“I don’t know…” Kobol hesitated.

More quietly, Alec said, “I do know. We’re going to do it this way. We can win quickly and with low casualties.” The back of his mind was whispering, And I can get to Angela before anyone else does.

Kobol was staring at him, eyes glittering, “It’s not your decision to make.”

“Yes it is.”

His hands spread flat on the map, as if to ensure ownership, Kobol said, “You can’t possibly assume that you’re still…”

“I’m in command,” Alec said evenly. “No one has relieved me of command. You’ll take orders from me, Martin.”

Kobol tried to laugh, but it froze in his throat.

His mouth twitched. He glanced at the men sitting on either side of him, facing Alec.

Alec said nothing. For a long wordless minute they sat glaring at each other; Alec with his two youngsters and Kobol with his men flanking him.

“I think Alec’s plan will work,” Jameson said.

He was still leaning against the hatchway. The gun at his hip loomed enormous. He was slightly turned, facing Kobol, gunhand free and resting easily at his side.

“The men I’ve assembled don’t know you,”

Kobol said to Alec. “They won’t take orders from you.”

“They know me,” Jameson said flatly. “They’ll follow where I lead them.”

Kobol glowered at Jameson and let his breath out in a hiss of frustrated rage. “So that’s the way it’s going to be.”

“That’s the way it is,” Jameson answered, calm as a hawk circling its prey.

Alec said, “To prevent any misunderstandings, Martin, I think you’d better stay with me until the army gets here. Ron, you take this boat back and assume command of the troops.”

A smile flickered across Jameson’s face.

“You’re giving them a lot more dignity than they deserve. They’re not troops, they’re just a big gang. Hardly any discipline. They’re coming up here for the spoils. They’ll fight your way, Alec. But they’d never stand up in a toe-to-toe battle.”