Throne of Stars (40 page)

“Rastar!” Honal protested as he drove his sword into one of the wounded Krath. “You’re not leaving any for me!”

Rastar leaned over and offered his cousin an arm up as one of the other troopers dismounted to retrieve the bugler and the flag of Therdan.

“And what the hell was the colors group doing following you, and not me?” he demanded.

“You bloody idiot! You ran ahead of us. And you complain about
me
being headstrong! We got bogged down, and there you were, charging into the distance like some kid!”

“Oh, sure, blame it on me,” Rastar said. He took the bugle from the bugler, who was clearly too cut up to wield it, and put it to his lips.

“Sounds like they’re withdrawing,” Pahner said, stepping back under an awning as the skies opened up.

“I wonder if the Krath will advance in this?” Roger asked.

“Probably, Your Highness,” the Gastan said.

“What is this, ‘Follow Roger Week’?” Roger asked with a smile he hoped the Gastan interpreted correctly.

“The buildup on this flank was easy to note,” the Gastan said. “I’m not sure the sally was worth the loss of your riding beasts.”

“I don’t think it was,” Roger agreed. “And even if the raiding party in the rear started any fires, they’ve been put out by the rain.”

“Time for Plan B,” Pahner mused. “If we had one. But the only one I can think of is to take the spaceport first. Gastan, I won’t argue for that plan, but how long would it take for a force to make it to the port from here?”

“No more than twenty days,” the Gastan replied. “Less for runners. I can have a message to Temu Jin in less than nine, and a reply in twice that.”

The brief, intense rain squall was already clearing, and Roger gazed at the distant fortress.

“It’s slightly lower than us, but we don’t have any effective artillery to destroy it,” he mused.

“They were starting to cast real siege cannon in K’Vaern’s Cove,” Julian said. Then he grimaced apologetically. “Sorry, just brainstorming. Too far, too long.”

“And what would we do if we destroyed the walls?” Roger asked, gesturing at the Krath. The good news was that it seemed the combination of rain and the sally had caused the enemy to withdraw for the day, but—“They still outnumber us forty-to-one,” he observed.

“We broke up their formations when they came at us by targeting the leadership,” Fain said. The concept of brainstorming had been explained to him, and he found it a valid idea. “It was a technique I’d considered against the Boman, but I was never able to implement it at the time; my men weren’t good enough shots. All the target practice since made the difference.”

“The French introduced that technique during the Napoleonic wars,” Pahner commented. “Congratulations on rediscovering it. I should have suggested it.”

“But we can’t snipe them to death,” Roger said, looking up at the mountains looming above the citadel. The mountains to the north and south had relatively shallow slopes, and the Krath fortress had been cut into them. But beyond that, the valley necked down to the gorge of the Shin River. From there, it dropped over a thousand meters to the town of Thirlot. “We could drop teams on them, but even with armor, that would be pinpricks.”

“Assassinate the leadership?” Julian suggested.

“They’re relatively civilized,” Pahner pointed out. “They’re fighting by policy, not personality, and they have a solid chain of command. If we kill the current leaders, their replacements will step into their positions with hardly a ripple. Otherwise, that would work.”

“We could roll rocks down the hill on them,” Julian said. “Gronningen can handle the boulders.”

“Pinpricks again,” Pahner objected. “Even a large landslide onto the citadel or the army wouldn’t do enough damage. Even if we did it several times, they’d just give up the slopes. And we
still
couldn’t move them.”

“Do it enough, and it might break their will,” Julian argued mulishly. “ ‘The objective is to break the will of the enemy.’”

“A combination of all of them?” Fain mused. “Marines and my fellows sniping, the Shin to take to the heights and start rockslides, the occasional sally and raid . . . over time, we might be able to wear them down to the point they’d quit the field?”

“No.” Roger shook his head, still looking at the distant ranges. “Not a battle of attrition; we need a battle of checkmate. Gastan, how long, again, to get a message to Jin?”

“Nine days.” The Shin king gave Roger a sidelong glance. “What are you considering?”

“I’m going to make them wish they’d never pissed me off,” Roger said. “I’m going to get them to surrender, without the need for a single battle. I’m going to send them home without their arms, their food, their bedding, or their pretty little tents. And with virtually no loss of life. I’m going to humiliate them.”

“And how, exactly, are you going to do all that, Your Highness?” Pahner asked.

“I’m going to introduce them to geology,” Roger said with a feral smile.

Pahner looked at him, then up at the mountains, and then up at the end of the valley. The intensity of his speculation was obvious, but, finally, he shrugged with a puzzled expression.

“The salient point to the plan is that this entire valley was once a lake,” Roger said, looking around the steam-filled room.

The conference had been moved to the town of Mudh Hemh for a multitude of reasons, but the main one was that Roger wanted input from Despreaux. Since all the wounded had been moved to Mudh Hemh, the conference had to be moved to follow them.

The shift was beneficial on another level, as well. Although the town was filled with the sharp smell of rotten eggs from the nearby geothermal area, it was also surprisingly pleasant for the humans—which, of course, meant unpleasantly chilly for Mardukans. The Shin of Mudh Hemh maintained their movement ability by bathing in the warm waters from the Fire Lands, and the town was half-barbarian village, half-sybaritic spa.

Indeed, since the conference had been pushed into evening, it ended up being held in the primary bathhouse of the Gastan; and most of the Mardukans were submerged up to their necks in the steaming hot water. In any other circumstances, the thought of a major war-planning session being held in a spa would’ve been ludicrous. But to the Bronze Barbarians, who had held them in pouring thunderstorms, swamps, mountains, and flooded plains over the last half-year, this was infinitely better than many alternatives. The sight of Dogzard, paddling from person to person to mooch treats, and of the IAS journalist, discreetly filming the entire conference, simply added an amusing counterpoint.

But the prince had to admit that the sight of Nimashet, half-undressed to submerge in the water, was a tad distracting.

“The geology of this region indicates that during the last glacial period, the valley was first carved by a glacier, and then the glacier was slowly replaced by a deep upland lake,” he continued, and threw up the first picture, a representation of the valley with the lake sketched in. He hoped that it was clear enough that the Shin, unaccustomed as they were to representations, would understand what they were seeing.

“Somewhere around the vicinity of Queicuf, there was once a massive dam—probably half volcanic debris, and half ice; you can still see some of the traces of it in the slight prominence that Queicuf is established upon.

“It’s the sediment from that upland lake and the ash from the volcanoes that gives you the rich soil you till. But the most important point for us right this minute is that it’s possible to create the lake again.”

“You’re not going to flood the valley!” one of the chieftains protested.

Roger had sketched out the plan for the Gastan before the conference, and he more than suspected that the wily Shin monarch had planted that particular question. The chieftain who’d “spontaneously” blurted out the protest was one of the Gastan’s personal retainers, and Pedi’s father had very carefully gone over the points which might be expected to create concerns among his followers when he and Roger first discussed the possibilities. The human prince was beginning to appreciate how skillfully the Gastan manipulated his meetings. It was an important point to retain for his own later use, and also one to keep in the forefront of his mind now. If the Gastan decided that he didn’t like a human plan, he was going to be a dangerously capable opponent.

“No,” Roger said now, with a grin and a wave of his arms that replicated, as well as the under-equipped, two-armed humans could, the Mardukan gesture for intense amusement. “No, not the entire valley—just the bit the Krath are standing on.”

A wave of ripples spread out from the chieftains gathered in the steaming water, and by the way some peered at the hologram and rubbed their horns, he could see that they understood the representation just fine.

“Even if we wanted to flood the entire valley, we don’t have the materials,” Roger told them. “What we propose to do is to drop a portion of the mountainside above the Shin River where it exits the valley. Please send messages to our contacts in the spaceport requesting that they send us as much octocellulose as possible. That’s a very strong conventional explosive, and we’ll use it first to drill holes in the slopes above the exit, and then to blow out a large chunk of the mountain.

“This chunk will create a temporary dam. We should be able to drop enough material into the river to raise the level to a point which will force the Krath to move out into the open, under our walls. The alternative will be drowning, or at least standing in cold water up to their groins. Their army will have no choice but to surrender.”

“Or to charge the walls,” one of the other chieftains said darkly.

“The water is going to rise
fast,
” Pahner interjected. “They’ll have, at most, two hours to decide what to do and to do it, and all the indications are that they’re pretty incapable of reacting to surprise. I’d be astonished if they could even get a decision
made
in two hours, much less implement it.”

“But if they realize what we’re planning,” Roger said, “and the preparations will of necessity take place in plain sight, they’ll have ample time to plan a response. So we’ll have to have a deception plan. We’ll make it look as if the forces emplacing the charges are actually building a fortress to threaten their logistics line.”

“What if we can’t get the explosives?” Despreaux prompted.

“In that case, we’ll use gunpowder,” Roger said. “There’s a powder mill here; Mudh Hemh is a primary supplier. It will take longer, and more materials, but it’ll still work.”

“I could make some nitro,” she mused. “They have everything I need.”

“I’d prefer you in one piece,” Roger told her with a grin. “Nitroglycerin is far too volatile. If we can get the octocellulose, let’s go with that.”

“You said a temporary dam,” the Gastan said. “How ‘temporary’?”

“It will last at least two days,” Roger said confidently. “It may last for years, depending on how the material falls.”

“It could be made semi-permanent, if you wish,” Fain interjected. “We Diasprans are quite familiar with such structures; with a few days’ work, we could insure that it stays up for weeks. With a few weeks, we could make it permanent. That assumes that the subgrade is good—I’d need to look at that. But I concur on the couple of days, minimum. The material of the mountain appears to be a mixture of this black rock—”

“Basalt,” Roger said.

“This ‘basalt,’ and the fine ash. The basalt will create the structure, and the ash—which is notably nonporous—will fill the gaps. I suspect that it will make an excellent dam all by itself.”

“I have seen dams like this,” one of the highland chiefs offered. “They’re scattered throughout the mountains. This . . . this could work. If you can ‘drop’ enough of the mountain.”

“If we can get the octocellulose, that’s not a problem,” Roger said with a shrug. “A piece of octocellulose the size of your thumb has the explosive power of a keg of gunpowder. The material is hard to describe, but it’s a very tight packing of eight carbon molecules associated with nitrates, such as your saltpeter that goes in gunpowder. It’s a common explosive among my people.”

“We can’t just lay it on the surface, Your Highness,” Doc Dobrescu interjected. “We’ll have to dig the charges in. Dig ’em in deep, if you want the sort of material movement you’re talking about.”

“That will be a challenge,” Roger said. “I spoke with Krindi about it, and we can either blow out a sort of mining cavity by hammering in a spike and then blasting out the cavity, or we can try to produce very long steel drills that can be hammered in over time.”

“Nah,” Julian said. “Despreaux, can you make a shaped charge?”

“Sure,” the sergeant replied, then grimaced. “Well, supervise,” she amended, shrugging her arm. “There are field expedient shaped charges you can make out of hammered iron. Why?”

“I had a buddy who was an engineer,” Julian said with a thoughtful expression. “He said that when they were in school, they made craters by first blowing a hole with shaped charges, then filling the cavity with explosives. I don’t know the size of the shaped charges, though, or how much to put in.”

“Well, if we blow a series of holes, then pack them with a combination of octocellulose and gunpowder, not having the materials for a decent ANFO slurry, it should work,” Despreaux said, her face lighting up.

“I think that your paramour likes explosives more than you, Prince Roger,” the Gastan commented dryly, and Roger shrugged as grunting Mardukan laughter filled the room. His relationship with Despreaux had become widely known.

“She likes it hot, what can I say?”

“We still have to assume that the Krath will become aware of our plans,” the Gastan said.

“Even if they do, they’ll find it difficult to attack the workings,” Roger responded. “Your forces—and ours—fight better on the heights.”

“Still, I think they’ll try,” the Gastan said. “And when they fail to take them, they’ll come here, instead.”

“They’ve come before!” one of the chieftains protested, dipping into the sulfurous water and coming back up blowing bubbles. “We’ll stop them as we have before!”