“Major Harrigan,” grumfed the general. “Captain Graylock. Captain Matuchek. Let’s get down to business.”
He spread a map out before us. I leaned over and looked at it. Positions were indicated, ours and the enemy’s. They still held the Pacific seaboard from Alaska halfway down through Oregon, though that was considerable improvement from a year ago, when the Battle of the Mississippi had turned the tide.
“Now then,” said Vanbrugh, “I’ll tell you the overall situation. This is a dangerous mission, you don’t have to volunteer, but I want you to know how important it is.”
What I knew, just then, was that I’d been told to volunteer or else. That was the Army, at least in a major war like this, and in principle I couldn’t object. I’d been a reasonably contented Hollywood actor when the Saracen Caliphate attacked us. I wanted to go back to more of the same, but that meant finishing the war.
“You can see we’re driving them back,” said the general, “and the occupied countries are primed and cocked to revolt as soon as they get a fighting chance. The British have been organizing the underground and arming them while readying for a cross‑Channel jump. The Russians are set to advance from the north. But we have to give the enemy a decisive blow, break this whole front and roll ’em up. That’ll be the signal. If we succeed, the war will be over this year. Otherwise, it might drag on for another three.”
I knew it. The whole Army knew it. Official word hadn’t been passed yet, but somehow you feel when a big push is impending.
His stumpy finger traced along the map. “The 9th Armored Division is here, the 12th Broomborne here, the 14th Cavalry here, the Salamanders here where we know they’ve concentrated their fire‑breathers. The Marines are ready to establish a beachhead and retake Seattle, now that the Navy’s bred enough Krakens. One good goose, and we’ll have ’em running.”
Major Harrigan snuffled into his beard and stared gloomily at a crystal ball. It was clouded and vague; the enemy had been jamming our crystals till they were no use whatsoever, though naturally we’d retaliated. Captain Graylock tapped impatiently on the desk with a perfectly manicured nail. She was so clean and crisp and efficient, I decided I didn’t like her looks after all. Not while I had three days’ beard bristling from my chin.
“But apparently something’s gone wrong, sir,” I ventured.
“Correct, damn it,” said Vanbrugh. “In Trollburg.”
I nodded. The Saracens held that town: a key position, sitting as it did on U.S. Highway 20 and guarding the approach to Salem and Portland.
“I take it we’re supposed to seize Trollburg, sir,” I murmured.
Vanbrugh scowled. “That’s the job for the 45th,” he grunted. “If we muff it, the enemy can sally out against the 9th, cut them off, and throw the whole operation akilter. But now Major Harrigan and Captain Graylock come from the 14th to tell me the Trollburg garrison has an afreet.”
I whistled, and a chill crawled along my spine. The Caliphate had exploited the Powers recklessly‑that was one reason why the rest of the Moslem world regarded them as heretics and hated them as much as we did‑but I never thought they’d go as far as breaking Solomon’s seal. An afreet getting out of hand could destroy more than anybody cared to estimate.
“I hope they haven’t but one,” I whispered.
“No, they don’t,” said the Graylock woman. Her voice was low and could have been pleasant if it weren’t so brisk. “They’ve been dredging the Red Sea in hopes of finding another Solly bottle, but this seems to be the last one left.”
“Bad enough,” I said. The effort to keep my tone steady helped calm me down. “How’d you find out?”
“We’re with the 14th,” said Graylock unnecessarily. Her Cavalry badge had surprised me, however. Normally, the only recruits the Army can dig up to ride unicorns are pickle‑faced schoolteachers and the like.
“I’m simply a liaison officer,” said Major Harrigan in haste. “I go by broomstick myself.” I grinned at that. No American male, unless he’s in holy orders, likes to admit he’s qualified to control a unicorn. He saw me and flushed angrily.