“Will do, General.”
A fighting retreat was one of the most difficult maneuvers to execute, and the weather looked bad. On the other hand, if you had to retreat, it did help to have this much mobile artillery sitting behind you ready to offer aid and comfort.
The air stank of turned earth and the sharp acrid smell of TNT from the bursting charges of the shells. Jeffrey inhaled deeply. After Corona, the Union, the Sierra, it smelled quite pleasant.
“Sir. Message from the Fifth Mountain HQ. Enemy gun positions secured, and preparing to blow in pla—”
The noise that came from the south was loud even by the standards of a very noisy day, complete with battleship broadsides. The plateau above the Land fortress wasn’t visible from here, but the mushroom-shaped cloud that climbed up over the horizon was. He felt the blast twice, once through the soles of his feet, and the second time through the air.
Jeffrey whistled. “Must have had quite a bit of ammunition stored,” he said.
The rearguard commander nodded soberly. “Glad of that,” he said. “Now we can bug out with a clear conscience. We surprised them, but they’re starting to get their heads wired back to their arses. I wouldn’t care to do this withdrawal under air attack and with them pushing hard, particularly if they bring up armor.”
“They’re doing their best. They’d have it here in force if the partisans hadn’t cut the area off.”
* * *
There weren’t any bodies floating in the water on the beachhead anymore. They’d had time to police it, and put together the emergency floating jetties. Prisoners were going on board—all Protégés, of course, and not many of them; the fort had been pummeled all too well. You never took Chosen prisoners, not unless they were too badly wounded to suicide. The medics had a field hospital set up, and they were transferring wounded men lashed to stretchers and unconscious with morphine to a landing barge.
That was the frightening thing. The swell was heavy enough to make the barge rise a good three feet, steel squealing against steel as it rubbed on the pontoons. Further out there were whitecaps, and the southern horizon had disappeared behind thunderheads where lightning flickered like artillery. The barges beached on the shingle were pitching and groaning as the beginning of a rolling surf caught at them.
Oh, shit. That did not look good. Not good at all. He certainly didn’t envy men trying to climb boarding nets up a ship’s side in this, especially if it got worse. Particularly tired men, exhausted from a hard day’s marching and fighting. Tired men made mistakes.
probability of increased storm activity now approaches unity, Center said.
How truly good. A pity you couldn’t have predicted it at more than a fifteen percent probability yesterday. He paused in the silent conversation. Plus or minus three percent, of course.
A commander has to take the weather as it comes, Raj said. Make it work for you.
and an artificial intelligence, however advanced, cannot predict weather patterns without a network of sensors, Center said. There was an almost . . . tart overtone to the heavy, ponderous solidity of the mental communication. there have been neither satellite sensors nor data updates on this planet for 1200 standard years.
Jeffrey snorted, obscurely comforted. Command was lonely, but he had an advantage over most men: two entirely objective and vastly knowledgeable advisors and friends. Three, although John wasn’t nearly as objective.
Thanks, his foster-brother spoke. Jeffrey had a brief glimpse of a forest of larch and plane trees, and a rocky mountain path. Meanwhile I’m running for my life. Be seeing you, bro.
“Make it work for you,” Jeffrey murmured, looking at the water. “Easier said than done.”
Among other things, the increasing choppiness was going to degrade the effectiveness of naval gunfire support. Particularly from the lighter vessels . . .
Decision crystallized. “Message to Admiral Farr,” he said. “I’m speeding up the evacuation schedule.”
The mission was certainly accomplished. He looked to his left at the remains of the plateau where the Land fortress had stood. The whole southern front of it had slumped forward into the sea, a sloping hill of rubble where the cliffs had been. Parts of it still smouldered.