Chapter 12: Surrounded

*****

All at once, a rousing barrage of gunfire cascaded from the heights of the plateau into the oncoming rush of attackers below. It had a devastating effect as the front ranks of Andalucian warriors were slaughtered where they stood, quickly crumbling to the ground while some flailed about like headless creatures not aware that they were already dead.

It was worse than any nightmare Jack could imagine. From his own vantage point near the middle of the plateau, both entrances to the rocky formation were under steady attack at the same time. The eastern end, which led deeper into Andalucia, was blocked off by the largest clan, the Numratha, while the western end was under attack by the remains of the Muthada. Other clans joined the attack, clans that Jack had no name for, while their only chance of reinforcements languished miles away, not close enough to offer immediate assistance.

Jack rushed to the scene of the fiercest fighting, which happened to be the Numratha front. Taking cover behind the rocks that dominated the slope at the top of the plateau, he poured lead into the rushing attackers, taking them down one at a time as the barrel of his NT-12 smoked from the steady fire.

Around him, the other assembled marines gave a great performance, offering steady shooting and a high degree of accuracy that surely bolstered their reputation as the toughest fighters anywhere in the world. Their lead, Major Greg Vaughn, was not far from him, and he combined his shooting with shouts of inspiration to the men to keep the fight going.

"That's it, boys! Push them back down the mountain! Give these sons of bitches everything we've got!"

Despite the repeated motivation, it was a close fight. The Numratha fought like men possessed, no doubt feeling confident with the addition of the other clans to their ranks. They would rush forward to close ranks together, giving seemingly little regard for their own safety as they sought to get within range to use their bows. Kneeling against the ground to steady their aim, groups of them would let their arrows soar at once, raining down on the Javans and only knowing their aim was true by the screams of the marines struck afterwards.

Like the day before, the battle went back and forth several times before it became apparent that the Andalucians were running out of steam. Their attacks started to weaken, and they lost the strength to push to the top of the summit.

"Keep up your fire but don't chase them," urged Jack between the bursts of his rifle. "Make them pay for daring to attack our men!"

Just as quickly as the battle had begun, it ended with a whimper. The Numratha melted away into the surrounding rock and rubble, pulling back to their camps. Looking around, the men weren't any worse for wear, all of them veterans of several battles and used to seeing death, even the death of a comrade. Four of those comrades laid out on the ground below, none of them breathing and all having fought their last battle. Two others were wounded but thankfully they were small wounds, rendering them capable of still fighting. For the increasingly large pile of dead Andalucians along the slopes in front of them, it was a relatively small price to pay.

Just as the fighting with the Numratha died down, steady gunfire could still be heard on the other side of the plateau. Once it was safe to move, Jack, Greg and a few other marines rushed across the two hundred yard space along the top of the mountain to the scene on the other side. This fight was now more dire, and Jack could already tell that the Muthada had pushed the marines back, finding several wounded men at their feet as they pushed their way up the opposite slope.

"Keep up your fire!" yelled Jack. "Push them back down the mountain!"

Behind the enemy lines, chaos reigned. Jack watched in horror as wounded marines were dragged away by the Muthada, most of them still screaming for help. In their place on the top of the slope, they were in no position to give aid. Jack felt a sense of helplessness as they struggled to keep the Andalucians from spilling onto the plateau, all the while saying a quiet prayer for those men to receive a swift and painless death.

Directly in front of them, the Muthada tried another tactic that had been completely new to them. Knowing how deadly the rifle fire was and how exposed they were charging up the slope, they had taken some of the material from their tents, using it to obscure the position of the men behind it as they tried to push their way up the hill.

The tactic had a few problems which thankfully, the marines were able to figure out right away. The first problem was that it did nothing to stop the bullets, and the steady fire from the rifles was still able to take men down despite them being behind the tent.

The second problem was that it was nearly impossible to see where they were going on the way up the ascent, a fact that was quickly figured out by the anchor warrior closest to the edge. The man took one step too far to the right, found nothing but air and quickly careened over the side of the mountain, taking a good portion of the tent material with him.

His fall exposed the rest of the men, letting the gunners make quick work of all those that remained standing. While it wasn't the best tactic overall, it did worry Jack. It meant they were willing to try something new to adapt their attack. Seeing that the tent was an obvious failure, they might come back with something more sturdy the next time around. And there was always the chance that something they brought back might just do the trick on the next attack.

After the debacle with the tent was beaten back, the Muthada warriors started to melt away as well, slipping into crevices of the rocks behind them and disappearing from view. The wounded enemy soldiers tried to crawl back when they could, most of them dragging themselves along the rocky path with what little strength they had left. Most of them were used as target practice by the marines in a fight that was turning more vicious by the day.

"They've got to be hurting," said Jack as he turned to Greg. "The Muthada. It looks like another hundred or hundred and fifty corpses out on the slope. We've had to have put a significant dent in them!"

Greg nodded slowly. "I think most of the casualties from this attack were from the new tribes mixed in with the Numratha and Muthada. It's the only way they can keep throwing those kind of numbers at us."

"The only question is who's going to break first? Us or them?" asked Jack quietly.

Greg didn't answer him directly. "We really need those reinforcements to get here. I'm not sure how many more of these attacks that we can take."

Taking stock of their forces after battle had ended revealed a desperate plight. Ten more men were dead, meaning they had fifty-two effective marines still alive. Two more of those were wounded, the men facing the Numratha, but could still shoot. Two men were missing, those dragged away by the Muthada meaning there were fifty marines left plus Jack, Greg, Abigail, and Vera.

Thankfully for them, the Andalucians didn't try another attack for the rest of the day. And while their numbers were down to fifty, the other platoons that were still separated from them numbered another eighty men. If there was a way they could combine the two forces, they might be able to win out over the assembled clans.

At dusk that evening, Jack crouched around a fire with the rest of the men. Despite it being rough, desert country, the nights could be quite cool, and Jack found himself keeping close to the fire for its warmth. It seemed Vera had the same idea as she came to huddle right next to him while pulling a blanket around her shoulders.

"Are you doing okay?" she asked, taking the moment to look into his eyes.

"I'm all right," said Jack hoarsely. "We've lost a good number of men in the last couple days. That's weighing on me right now."

Vera nodded before slipping into his arms and offering a tight hug. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Are we doing the right thing, Vera? By being here?"

She blinked at him before a confused expression formed on her face. "What do you mean, Jack?"

"I mean, did those men die for a good purpose?" he asked. "I didn't just throw their lives away, did I?"

She shook her head furiously. "How can you even ask that? Of course they didn't die in vain, Jack. These are terrible people. The whole world knows how vile the Andalucians are. We came here to find Kat so we could rescue her, and they started a war with us. In a way, it's a good thing. We're here to bring justice to those who were so cruelly attacked by the Andalucians and the Swabians on the open seas."

Jack started to nod. "It still troubles me. This land is exactly how Heron and Kat described it. It may have been better to stay away."

"But would you be able to stand yourself if you let innocent people die?" asked Vera. "I know the kind of man that you are. You wouldn't let that happen, especially to those you consider friends."

Jack remained silent as he processed her words. Her hug grew tighter, and he found himself responding back, nuzzling into her hair. There had always been something comforting about Vera in a familiar way. Her presence made a bad situation just a little bit better.

That was before a bloodcurdling scream filled the night air.

Both of their heads whipped around in the direction of the scream as the excited chatter and yells of men sounded from the west slope. Jack slipped from Vera's arms quickly before grabbing his rifle and dashing off in the direction of the men. Time had a way of making his every footstep feel like a small eternity until he reached the defensive position and gasped at the sight.

Just below the slope on the pass that led up to the plateau was one of the wounded marines from earlier in the day, one of the unfortunate souls who had been dragged away by the Muthada. Still alive, they had transfixed him to a pole in a true crucifixion and erected it not far from the front lines in full view of all the men. How they got him there without being seen or heard was beyond Jack's comprehension but he supposed it was dark enough that it could have escaped notice.

What was infinitely worse was that they set fire to the man as soon as they left. The cross he was on had to have been treated with some kind of accelerant as he burned quickly and brightly, all the while screaming in dear agony as his fellow marines struggled to get him down.

It was largely in vain. By the time his fellow marines had grabbed any kind of water and had descended down the mountain, he was long since dead, his screams falling silent for good. Jack watched with a feeling of numbness as his charred body was finally lowered from the cross, his remaining brothers shaking with feelings of anger and hoping for a delivery of much-needed justice.

As Jack watched them bring his body back up the plateau for disposal, Vera appeared at his side once more. Forgetting that he'd sprinted away from her once he heard the scream, he put his arm around her to shield her from the sight. She still gasped when she saw it, breaking down and crying against his chest.

Finally, she looked up at him. "Do you see what I mean now? Why we have to be here? Someone has to end this, Jack. I'm beginning to think that you're the only one who can."

He could only nod in return, the words never able to form properly in his throat.

*****

It wasn't an easy night of sleep for anyone on the plateau. The night before hadn't been either but with the image of the burning marine still fresh in everyone's mind, a more haggard-looking group awoke the next morning.

Not far from where he slept was the group of wounded marines, sheltered from the front lines for protection. As soon as he was awake and sitting up, he drew the attention of one of the wounded men lying just a few feet away. Jack recognized the marine as Henry, one he remembered as helping to defend the wall at Heron's capital city back in Sorella.

"How are you doing this morning, Henry?" Jack called out.

The wounded marine nodded down to his arm, which was wrapped in a haphazard sling. "I've been better, sir. I'm not a big fan of not having use of my arm."

"I can understand that. How's your pain level this morning?"

Henry shrugged. "Not the worst I've ever seen. I took a slug through the leg back in the Desert War so I know what pain is. Yet the arrows from those Andalucian bastards are nasty. I did more damage pulling it out than it did going in."

Jack started to nod. "I think they're designed like that on purpose. It makes it harder to heal. I'd bet there's a psychological component to it as well."

"Either way, I'd prefer not to do it again," said Henry with a grin.

"Soon enough, we'll get you out of here, marine. Get you back to the Destiny where you can start to heal. God knows you've earned a break after all of this."

"I've seen a lot of brothers die in the last couple days, sir. Good men and great marines. I won't let those bastards take me too."

"I don't think anyone expected the kind of reception we'd get here," said Jack honestly. "But I want you to know that your sacrifice doesn't go unappreciated. I count myself as fortunate to have fought by your side. And that goes for every single one of your brothers as well."

Henry nodded glumly. "I've fought under a lot of men. I've been a marine for twelve years now, sir. I've had lieutenants and captains that weren't fit to wear the uniform, but I've also served under men who were born leaders. Men that knew what it was like to be in the ranks and what it entailed. I appreciated those leaders much more in battle than I ever had in peacetime."

"Why's that, Henry?"

The wounded marine did a one arm shrug. "Good leaders in peace are good leaders in war. Good leaders don't let their men go into battle unprepared. They expect the same from you even when no one's shooting at you. You know the saying—a pint of sweat now saves a gallon of blood later. That can be hard to understand at times but it all makes sense once you're in battle."

Jack gulped hard. "I'd almost hate to ask where I fall in that ranking of leaders, marine."

For once, Henry started to grin. "You shouldn't. You and the major are up there, sir. Some of the best I've ever served under."

Jack started to chuckle. "Even now? Surrounded in enemy country?"

Henry beamed with a smile. "Don't you know, sir? Marines prefer to be surrounded. That way we can attack in any direction and still find the enemy."

Jack started to laugh at that, quickly joined in by Henry a moment later. "You're a good man, Henry. I'm proud to have you with us. I know you're a fighter, but I'll feel much better once I see you're safe back on the Destiny. A marine like you deserves life."

"Just don't send me too soon, sir," said Henry. "I can still shoot with one hand. It may not be the easiest to do but I'll still do my part if trouble finds me."

"I know you will, Henry." Jack stood up and patted the man on the back. "Get some breakfast now, all right? Eat up and then get your head covered. It looks like we might have another hot day coming."

As he walked away from the wounded marine, Jack opted for a quick breakfast of oatmeal stirred up by Vera. Internally, he wondered the best way for them to get out of their current predicament. The whole camp was full of men like Henry, good warriors who deserved to live. There had to be a way out of this mess. Looking out over the summit revealed four separate camps, all of them positioned in each cardinal direction around the plateau. Yet even being boxed in, Jack looked for possible escape routes.

To the east were the Numratha and more jagged terrain, unsuitable to quick movements and highly likely for them to get penned up again by a more numerous enemy who knew their homeland well. Looking toward the north showed another set of highlands, with a camp dominating the only low-lying area in that direction. Certainly east and north would be bad choices in the current situation.

To his south was a slight continuation of the rugged terrain before it cut open to more level plains like that they experienced on the coast. While not a bad option, unfortunately, that direction was blocked by quite possibly the biggest clan camp, easily dwarfing the Numratha to the east. Jack shook his head at the option as well.

That only left the west, where they had come from. It was also the direction of the reinforcements that had been held up by the Muthada. Like the southern route, the terrain was rocky and uneven until leveling out closer to the coast. It also had to be the direction of the weakest and most wounded clan, unless of course the Muthada had been bolstered by their countrymen, which seemed to be the case during the last battle.

After a heavy swallow, Jack sighed and crossed his arms. Each path was equally bad but the west offered the most promise. Especially if they could link up with the marines. His eyes scanned the horizon, looking for any clues of when they might arrive. Originally, they were supposed to arrive last evening, but once they were held up by the Muthada, that became questionable. Surely, they had to be nearby though, right?

Jack wasn't sure how or why but a small wisp of smoke caught his eye on the western horizon. No larger than a campfire, it remained separate from the Andalucian camps and looked to be directly in the path from where they came from. No doubt, the same road the reinforcements had to be following. Suddenly, Jack had an idea.

"I need you to get a message out to the reinforcement platoons," said Jack as he came over to Greg's resting spot. The major had been eating his own breakfast, his face bleak just like their current prospects.

"What do you need? What should I say to them?" Greg questioned.

"Come over here," said Jack while waving his hand. The two men approached the western slope where this morning's guard was just about to relieve the night watch.

"I saw some wisps of smoke just over there. Across that valley, directly in front of that raised hill," said Jack while pointing out the direction. "We know the reinforcement platoons are just behind us to the west, right?"

"Right and directly blocked by the Muthada," said Greg. "Or other clans at this point."

"Or the Muthada are surrounded by us," said Jack with a slight grin. "If the reinforcements are that close, we may have an opportunity at hand."

A small grin started to form on Greg's face as he understood the plan. "Divide and conquer, eh?"

"Let's make sure those are the reinforcements, first. Can you reach out to Captain Bucknell and have him make a signal for us?"

"More fire?" asked Greg. "Get it bigger?"

"Yes, and I want them to fan the flames so we get a unique smoke signal from them. That way if it is them, we might be able to pinch off the Muthada, link up together, and possibly get off of this plateau."

"Captain Bucknell, this is Major Vaughn," said Greg into the command radio. "We're going to need you to start a fire."

About twenty minutes later, the two men stood watching the horizon as they waited for Bucknell to get the fire roaring. Jack pulled his binoculars out to watch the ridge where he'd spotted the original wisps of smoke. Luckily for them, a great deal of smoke soon appeared, coming in waves and seeming to indicate the presence of someone stoking the flames.

"That's them!" said Jack with excitement. "We're that close to them. We could easily coordinate an attack and squeeze the Muthada between us!"

Greg radioed back over to Bucknell. "You can cut that fire out for now. Stand by for further instructions and get the men ready to attack."

The two men hurried back to the main camp between the two entrances to the plateau. In that spot, they found Abigail, who was talking with Vera around an early morning fire. She looked up at them expectantly as soon as she saw them rush over.

"What's gotten into you two this morning?"

Jack turned to point to the western horizon. "See that smoke over there?"

Abigail put her hand against her eyebrows and scanned the nearby sky. "Barely, but yes."

"Those are the missing platoons that should have been here last night. We knew they were held up by the Muthada, quite possibly with reinforcements from another clan but we had no idea how close they were to us."

"Wow, that really is close. Perhaps it won't be so hard for us to link up with them after all," said Abigail.

"No, and here's the plan for that. We need to coordinate with them and plan an attack down on the unsuspecting Muthada from both sides. If we can do this with surprise, we can concentrate our forces without the other clans getting involved. We may even be able to completely eliminate them as a threat as well as link up with the rest of our men," said Jack.

Abigail started to nod. "When do you want to do this attack?"

"As soon as possible," said Jack. "They could be mustering another attack at this very moment, and I don't want to waste the time in between. Plus we have to remember that there may be three more clans coming so if we can take one away from that number, our odds of surviving go up."

"The boys will be ready to fight when you give the order, Jack," said Greg. "I can radio a message over to Bucknell to have them ready for a predetermined attack time."

"Do you think they can be ready in the next hour?"

Greg pursed his lips as he thought about it. "They should be no problem. We've started attacks with less notice, and they should be ready to go after having spent the night surrounded by the enemy."

"Good," said Jack. "Here's what I want you to do. Remember the element of surprise is key so listen close. It's time for us to shift the momentum of this battle!"

*****

Back near Quiller's Cove, Luke tapped his foot impatiently against the deck of the Valiant. His eyes were glued to the western horizon, much like that of his former commander's a thousand miles away. For Luke though, he was searching for the wounded cruiser. And so far, his quarry had gotten away.

It was only that morning when they had stumbled upon the Occitanian cruiser and managed to wound it grievously before it slipped into a fog bank, not uncommon in this part of the world. Counting at least three direct hits, the enemy cruiser had been a smoking mess as it slipped into safety, requiring the entire Javan task force to hold off on the pursuit. Visibility was too low for an engagement, and the worry was that they would be firing blindly without getting a chance to close in on the enemy.

So Luke found himself waiting, something he never did with any patience. Several hours passed until the fog was nearly burned off from the strength of the midday sun. It was only then that they received the go-ahead to continue the pursuit of the Occitanians from the task force commander, Rear Admiral Reynolds.

"They'll have all gotten away by now," growled Luke as the line of ships started to press forward. "They'll be about halfway to the Vector by this time!"

"Patience, Luke," said Kim, always a soothing presence at his side. "At most they've just gotten a little ahead of us. They wouldn't have traveled quickly through that fog."

"I really hope that cruiser is still burning but I can't see anything on the horizon just yet. With our luck, they've probably changed course, and we're going in the wrong direction."

Kim elbowed him in the ribs gently. "Will you try to think better thoughts? There's no need to be so negative right now."

Luke let out a long sigh. "I know, I'm sorry. I just wish we would've finished the job before they could get away."

"Even still, they have to be wounded. And with our current pace, we're bound to overtake them sooner or later," she said. "Perhaps we might still get to battle again today."

Kim's words proved almost prophetic. After the fog lifted and Reynolds set the task force to their top speed, it wasn't much more than an hour and a half later when they caught sight of the first signs of a distressed warship on the horizon. Luke watched closely through his binoculars as one smoky ship came into view, the tail end of the full Occitanian force as they steamed a westward course. The wounded warship was lagging behind, its speed greatly reduced by the earlier battle and a sitting duck for the rest of the Javans as they closed the distance.

"Task Force 49, man your battle-stations," came the radio command from Reynolds. "The cruisers Horton, Stardust, and Valiant are to focus fire on the crippled cruiser while the destroyer Clipper is to sprint forward to deliver a torpedo attack. For the rest of the force, watch out for enemy reprisals."

"This is the Valiant here," replied Luke. "Preparing to fire on your orders, sir." Luke then turned to Bill. "When will our forward turrets be ready?"

"I need about twenty more seconds, Luke."

"Time to finish the job that we started," he growled, looking back out to the horizon. Then something curious began to happen. Instead of sacrificing the wounded cruiser, part of the Occitanian force began to turn, especially the two vessels closest to the rear. From his vantage point, it looked like they were going to attempt to fight to protect the straggling warship.

"My god, that's a battleship," said Luke quietly as he gazed upon the largest vessel now turning to face their direction. From just out on the horizon, he could make out the silhouette and the huge barrels of the forward turrets, now swinging around to lock place in the Javans' direction.

Reynolds must have seen it too. "Change of plans. Stardust and Horton, I need you on the Occie battleship. All destroyers are to rush forward and close to torpedo range. Valiant, the crippled cruiser is all yours. Send her to the bottom of the sea."

"Aye, sir," said Luke as he turned to face the rest of his officers. "You heard the man. Let's finish the job!"

The Valiant surged forward as the cruisers in the Javan force started their own movements during the delicate dance that was battle. Luke sent the vessel off in a northwesterly course as he brought all but the ruined turret to bear on the crippled cruiser.

"Guns ready, sir!" yelled out Bill after the long twenty seconds had since passed.

"Are we in range?"

"Yes, sir, and ready to fire!"

"All right, let's give them a volley. Fire now!" ordered Luke. The ship buckled as the weight of the guns sent a devastating salvo to open up the battle. All around them, the Javan ships opened up with their first ordnance as several shots were sent racing toward the three challenging warships. In what could have been beautiful displays had they not been so deadly, Luke watched carefully as the shots descended on the wounded cruiser, one of them making contact and causing a fireball to throw up just short of the superstructure.

"Direct hit! Damn good gunning, Bill!" said Luke with encouragement. "Let's load up again and try it one more time!"

"Luke, it looks like that battleship is about to fire!" said Kim, her eyes watching it closely. He scanned the horizon to see the long barrels pointed toward the rest of the cruisers, thankfully not targeting the Valiant.

As soon as he locked eyes on the battleship, it opened up with all turrets, sending a volley that went racing toward the nearest ship, the Horton.

The mighty Javan cruiser took a glancing blow as most of the ordnance missed the mark and pounded the waves right next to it. A small billow of smoke soon went airborne from the cruiser as the destroyers pushed forward to engage each other with torpedoes.

"Luke, we're ready to fire!" said Bill as Luke watched another opening salvo from the Stardust race toward the Occie battleship. This shot hit the mark much more closely, and soon the battleship was engulfed in its own fireball.

"Fire, Bill!" yelled Luke.

The ship vibrated as the guns roared to life once more. Luke felt his heart soar as the ordnance seemed to converge at the same point in the sky directly above the enemy cruiser. From there, they came crashing down at once, throwing up the largest fireball of the day.

"Holy shit, look at that hit!" yelled out Luke as the entire cruiser became obscured from view by the strength of the blast.

"That had to have done it! There's no way they're surviving that," said Kim excitedly.

"Change course due north, Anna! Let's see if we can get around that smoke cloud!"

As the battle raged just to the south, the Valiant pushed north with its guns still trained on the wounded vessel. The heavy smoke took a long time to clear but as soon as it did, Luke could see the warship was already listing heavily to the starboard side, at least twenty degrees at his best estimate.

"We got 'em! They're going down by the stern!"

To all of their astonishment, the vessel sank at a rate much faster than expected. What remained of the stern was soon completely below the waves as the bow of the ship first lifted out of the water and then promptly turned on its side from the force of its own weight. Even from this distance, Luke could see the small, dark masses of bodies that littered the waves around it, the only survivors as the vessel soon slipped beneath the waves.

"Luke, we've got to get back to the main force," said an alarmed Kim before pointing back to the horizon. "The Horton is ablaze!"

Luke spun around to look at the nearby Javan warships, his gaze instantly settling on the Horton as fire decimated a good portion of the superstructure. The ship was smoking heavily at the damage, and from the looks of the Occitanian battleship, they were getting ready to fire another salvo.

"Anna, turn us back around and center the guns on that battleship," ordered Luke.

The Valiant took a long, curved spin as it reentered the fray from the northwest, its guns now trained on the battleship.

"It doesn't even look like anything has touched that battleship. I can't see any damage on it whatsoever," said Kim. She was right—it looked like none of the earlier salvos from the other Javan cruisers had scored any hits.

"Let's end that right now," said Luke. "Bill, prepare to fire."

"Guns are trained, Luke. We're ready when you are."

"Good, send it now!"

The Valiant's five inch guns sent off another round that caught the battleship largely in the flank. While not heavy enough to cause significant damage, it at least had the effect of distracting their commanders and taking the spotlight off the Horton. A small plume of smoke appeared not far from the superstructure.

"You better hope their gunners are not very good," said Kim with a worried look on her face. "That turret is swinging around to point at us!"

Luke swallowed heavily as he watched it fix in place on the Valiant. Before the battleship could get off another shot, the Stardust managed to set off a heavy salvo that caught the enemy vessel directly amidship. Luke's eyes went wide at the sight of the battleship's entire hull buckling in the water as a ring of continuous explosions shot off all around the superstructure.

"My god," whispered Luke as he watched the devastation consume the battleship.

"Luke, the guns are ready again," said Bill from his station.

"Fire again, Bill," said Luke quietly.

Their next shot was deadly accurate as several shots landed directly on the deck of the battleship, causing more damage. The large vessel soon went dead in the water, the damage having extended to their engine room and cutting all power to their propulsion. As fires reigned above the water line and the ship came to halt, it became a sitting duck for the Javan forces to rake it with several new volleys from the closest cruisers.

It was a testament to the battleships strength in how many blows it could absorb while still remaining afloat. It took two more salvos from the Stardust and one more crippled volley from the Horton before the majority of their crew could be seen abandoning ship. While the hull of the battleship began to sink lower in the water, rampant explosions rocked the decks as the vessel soon went lifeless.

Between them, the engagement between the destroyers had largely ended with predictable results. The single Occitanian destroyer was quickly overwhelmed by the Javan counterparts and sent under to join the cruiser from earlier. By midafternoon, all three enemy ships had slipped under the waves on a journey to their final resting place.

While their sacrifice had bought time for the remaining Occitanian ships to steam westwards, no order for pursuit was given. The Occitanians could now sail at full speed without having to watch out for the crippled cruiser and would prove harder to catch as they fled the scene. What was worse, the Horton was still damaged severely enough to require immediate attention. It was for that reason that Admiral Reynolds gave the order to return to Quiller's Cove.

"Great shooting by every ship. You've all made me proud out there today," said Reynolds over the radio. "We'll talk more back in Quiller's Cove."

As the Valiant assisted in the rescue mission to pick up the surviving Occitanian sailors, Luke was able to reflect quietly on the bridge about the battle. Kim appeared behind him, putting a soft caress against his back.

"What's the matter? You're not usually this quiet after a battle."

Luke nodded quietly. "Those ships are heading west now. If we break off the pursuit, they'll be entering Fourth Vector territory within a few days."

"And heading straight for Jack," added Kim.

"Will Jack be ready for them? They won't need us too much at Quiller's Cove now if the Occitanians have moved on. Maybe this is our ticket to get back to our mission."

"We'll have to run it by the commodore and the admiral," said Kim. "But we all saw the direction they're heading. Perhaps it won't be too much for us to break off from this task force."

Luke nodded. "Let's bring it up when we get back to base."

It was late in the evening by the time that Task Force 49 entered the harbor at Quiller's Cove. The sun had already set, and thankfully, the fires had been extinguished on the Horton. Yet it was a charred mess of metal that drifted into the harbor that evening, and it was clear the cruiser would need much work moving forward.

Despite being in the thickest parts of the battle, the Valiant came away largely unscathed. There was some light damage to the ship's superstructure that could be repaired in time as well as some missing wooden planks for the deck, but it gave a terrific showing for such a small vessel. Luke hadn't expected them to think much of the ship when it sortied out of the base several days ago, but with his experienced crew at his back, they accounted for themselves extremely well during the battle.

It was for that reason that Admiral Reynolds was waiting for him as his feet finally landed on the quay. With his officers behind him, Luke came to salute his commanding officer with his finest parade ground movements.

"You had a mighty fine showing out there, Luke," said Reynolds with a hint of pride. "It was all due to your actions that an enemy battleship and cruiser are now out of action for good."

Luke started to grin. "I had a lot of help, Admiral. I have an experienced crew behind me and some of the best officers that Java can send."

Reynolds chuckled. "That you do. And we think it's time that the Empire and the Admiralty reward such a devoted officer. You're being promoted, Luke."

"Promoted?" he whispered.

"That's right, Commander Ravencross. I've already radioed ahead to get approval, and I'll send over a new stripe for your uniform. We're proud to have you fight with us, Commander."

"I'm honored, sir. Thank you. I'm not sure what to say," said Luke with a stammer. Behind him, Kim beamed with pride at his accomplishment.

"You don't have to say a thing, Luke. I can tell just by your expression what this means to you." Reynolds wasn't wrong. Luke's face was filled with a mixture of pride, glory, and even trace amounts of embarrassment at such a public display of praise.

"Now, come on up with me to see Lucas," said Reynolds. "Do you want to bring a deputy with you?"

"Just my operations division head, Lt. Kim Cross," said Luke. "She's my right hand in all of this."

Reynolds nodded and looked past him to Kim. "Come on with us then, Lieutenant. Let's give our after action report to the commodore!"

The three of them walked quietly along the darkened streets of the Quiller's Cove until reaching the commodore's headquarters. They quickly reached the third floor, drawing an awkward salute from Lt. Settler that made Luke grin to himself. A few moments later, Lucas appeared and immediately saluted Reynolds.

"Welcome back, Admiral Reynolds," said the commodore before turning to Luke. "And I believe a congratulations is in order, Commander Ravencross."

Luke saluted in return. "Thank you, Commodore!"

"I hope the both of you are here to tell me about today's battle," said Lucas. "Somehow I'm betting the radio transmissions and the reports didn't quite do it the same justice as a personal retelling."

Reynolds started to chuckle. "There's not much else to it than that. Thanks to good eyes and steady firing, the Valiant was able to locate the tail end of the Occitanian task force and wound it in the process, but not before the bastards slipped into a heavy fog bank. We resumed pursuit once the bank lifted and the Valiant finished off her prey while assisting the other cruisers with taking down a battleship. All in all, it was a stunning performance."

"I wish I could have been there," said Lucas with a grin. "It's been a long time since I've heard of a battleship getting taken out by cruisers."

"Most of that was due to the Stardust and the Horton, sir," said Luke. "By the way, do we know how bad the damage is on the Horton?"

Reynolds grimaced while rubbing his chin. "She'll require some time in port for repairs but nothing that can't be fixed. The worst part of it was getting the fires under control. We lost numerous sailors due to that hit and the blaze that followed."

"Our men will get her repaired," promised Lucas. "She'll be back out to sea soon."

"We also picked up quite a large number of Occitanians from the sinking of all three of their vessels. The last count was over eight hundred and thirty-two men. Do you have enough room for all of them here at base?" asked Reynolds.

Lucas pursed his lips. "Barely but we'll make do. Supplies are always tight all the way out here but if those men need to miss a meal or two, it won't be the end of the world. At least until we can get them back to the mainland and a proper detention camp."

Reynolds grinned. "Hopefully we'll refill them again soon. I imagine we'll still have many more Occitanian vessels to sink."

"About that, sir," interrupted Luke. "It looked today that after the battle, they were all steaming due west for their course. Being that we are so close to the Vector, isn't it possible that they might continue on to it instead?"

"It's possible, I suppose," said Reynolds. "But ultimately, I don't think that to be the case. They've arrived out here weeks ago, and they've been hanging around Quiller's Cove. Something about this base is drawing them here, making them stalk it. I think they'll stay around these waters quite possibly."

"Even if they were heading west?"

Reynolds nodded. "They could have just been trying to get out of dodge before circling back. Let's be honest as well—you and your former commander are the only easterners to have ever entered the Vector and lived to tell about it. I'm sure the stigma of the Vector will prevent them from going into it."

"But what if they do? Go into it that is," pressed Luke.

Reynolds locked his eyes on him. "Why are you so interested in it, Luke?"

"I'm hoping that we'll eventually get to go back to our mission with Commander Easterbrook," said Luke. "We were making very real progress in the Vector, and with Jack only having the Destiny and the Tiger, he's not in the best shape. Perhaps if we can go join him—"

"Luke, that's not going to happen," interrupted Reynolds while putting his hand flat on the table. "I understand you want to get back to your mission but we have no proof the Occitanians are going into the Vector. The bigger threat is Quiller's Cove so it's here that you'll stay."

Luke opened his mouth to fight further but a quick kick to the back of his legs from Kim prevented him from speaking any further. Instead he lowered his head, nodding slowly without offering anything else.

Reynolds reached out to rest his hand on Luke's shoulder. "Give it time, Luke. You're needed here right now. I'm sure those Occitanians will try to get up to something soon enough. After all, they still have another battleship with that fleet, as well as three other cruisers. It's a force that's still more than a match for ours. I think Jack Easterbrook can take care of himself in the Vector. We'll alert him about the battle surely, but I don't think he has to watch out for Occitanians just yet."

"Aye, sir," said Luke quietly, while choosing not to argue. Even though he wanted to, he knew it would do no good.

"Good," said a more relaxed Reynolds, thinking the matter settled. "Now, why don't you go get some rest? We'll spend a few days in port while the Horton gets its repairs and then we'll start our sorties again. Let your crew get rested up and have them ready to go in three days' time. Task Force 49 will need you in command of the Valiant when the time comes."

Luke and Kim stood from the table, each offering a crisp salute to the admiral and the commodore before turning for the door. There was silence between them until they got to the street, at which point, Luke opened up with his pent-up emotion.

"They're making a mistake! The entire task force saw them go off in the direction of the Vector. There's nothing for the Occies to attack in Quiller's Cove, especially now that we've taken away their overwhelming advantage! It's not right, Kim."

"What else can we do, Luke? It's not like we can disobey a direct order."

"I don't know," he muttered quietly before kicking a loose stone across the street as they headed toward the harbor. "I just get the feeling that Jack needs us. I hate being so far away that I feel like we can't be of any help."

"In due time, Luke. Perhaps once Reynolds sees the threat to Quiller's Cove dissipated with the battle, he'll change his mind."

"That might be a week from now or longer," said Luke. "What if Jack doesn't have that kind of time?"

"I'm sure he'll be all right," said Kim. "Just like we will be too. Besides, if he has a need, he'll put out a dispatch for it."

They reached the inner harbor and walked over to the quay where the Valiant was tied up. "I sure hope you're right, Kim. It still makes me uneasy though."

*****

"You're awfully quiet tonight, Lucas. What's on your mind?"

Commodore Lucas shook his head quickly as he fiddled around with his cup of water on the table. It was still just him and Admiral Reynolds in the room, despite Luke Ravencross having left a few minutes earlier. Reynolds had been quiet himself, going over a series of reports before he had finally looked up to ask the question.

"I've learned a long time ago to never answer that question head-on," Lucas said with a small smile. "Most times you don't want the real answer."

Reynolds tilted his head back and laughed. "Just what I would expect someone like you to say. I take it Bancroft is still thoroughly up your ass at all times?"

"So far up there that I can taste him sometimes," muttered Lucas.

"And yet you're still an officer so he must see something in you regardless."

"It would appear that way!"

"So tell me again, what's on your mind?"

Lucas let out a heavy sigh. "Commander Ravencross did bring up a few good points. Most likely the threat to Quiller's Cove is over. Why not let the man rejoin his former commander?"

Reynolds blinked in confusion. "Because that's not my orders. My orders are to secure this base and keep it safe. I don't care if that Occitanian fleet goes all the way back to the piss-soaked streets of Montauban, I'm keeping the task force here just like Bancroft ordered."

"I understand that, and I'm thankful for the protection but Jack Easterbrook—"

"—can take care of himself," finished Reynolds. "I'm not sure why all of you are so up that man's ass. I'm sure it goes back to Bancroft in some way, but I'm the one in charge out here. I'll decide where the ships go, Lucas."

"I realize that, Admiral," said Lucas while putting his hands up. "I'm just trying to think about what's best for Java."

Reynolds started to sneer. "And you agree that what's best for Java is letting our best ships linger in unknown territory trying to make soldiers out of a bunch of savages? You really think that grand plan will bear fruit?"

"It's not my place to judge the plans of our leadership," said Lucas stiffly. "Only to follow orders."

"That we can agree upon at least," said Reynolds with a tone of finality. "So put it out of your mind and follow orders. The ships stay here. Let Jack Easterbrook fend for himself."

*****

"On my order, we'll start the attack. Is everyone clear?"

The assembled marines on the western slope all nodded in confirmation as Jack crouched behind the nearest rock. It was early still, no more then ten o'clock, and after a brief war council, it had been decided to attempt to squeeze the Muthada between the two separated Javan forces and regain some of the initiative in this battle.

Jack then turned to Greg. "Are Captain Bucknell and his men ready?"

"Bucknell, what's your status?" asked Greg into the command radio.

The response came back instantly. "Ready to roll, sir."

Jack nodded. "All right. Stay low to the ground, and press the warriors when found. Leave the innocents to themselves unless they prove hostile. If hostile, treat them like the warriors. Don't do anything stupid, and damnit make sure you all come back alive."

The faces of about twenty-five marines all nodded, the majority of them filled with a divine confidence at finally switching over to the attack. It was an excellent force that Jack had at his back, and one that he hoped could spring this ambush with as little casualties as possible.

Looking up over the rock to what he could see of the nearby Muthada camp revealed a light perimeter of defensive guards but nowhere near the same quality or quantity of men as when they first met the clan. A good portion of their warriors were dead, and they had most likely assumed that the Javans wouldn't dare switch to the attack.

They would soon find out how wrong they were.

"Ready . . . now!" yelled Jack before popping up from his rock and firing a few bursts from his NT-12. All around the pass, the attacking marines emerged from their hiding places at the bottom of the slopes as Greg radioed the command back to Captain Bucknell. Their position was a good distance from the Muthada camp, a few hundred yards still, but it was the closest spot they were able to assemble without drawing attention from the clan.

The attacking position had been set up as a semi-circle that now rushed forward down the hill, gaining a boost of momentum as their quick pace easily covered the distance between them and the Muthada. Stopping every few moments to get a few accurate bursts off from his rifle, Jack largely led the attack as the Andalucians responded with uncertainty, many of them shocked to find themselves suddenly on the defense. Off to this right, Jack could just barely make out the quick marching reinforcements coming down from their ridge, the sounds of their own firefight filling the air as they looked to clear the Muthada posted in front of them.

Based upon the reactions of the clan, surprise had been total. They wore horrified expressions as they struggled to pull their bows into firing position, revealing more about their unpreparedness than their lack of accuracy.

"Press forward, men! Avenge your comrades!" roared Greg as they made it to the perimeter of the camp. The small tent city of the Muthada was a scene of dire confusion as the remaining warriors rushed out of their tents, many of them scarcely getting off one shot of their bow before being cut down. The front of the camp was a scene of total carnage as warriors were downed while women and children went running for the safety of the rear.

"Keep pushing!" yelled Jack. "Don't let them get away!"

The initial confusion of the attack slowly melted away as they reached deeper into the tents of the clan. The slow clearing of the tents allowed the Muthada to mount some kind of defense, pulling back to a hastily-created defensive line not far from the clan chief's tent in the center of the camp. At that spot, the Muthada were able to assemble a hodgepodge of crates, containers, and even a few bodies to offer a shield from the bullets.

For the first time since the attack started, Jack found himself taking cover. He hit the dirt with a careful dive, soon hearing the sound of another marine land nearby and beginning to fire at the defensive position.

The air around them started to get thick with arrows. What had been inaccurate and wild shots just minutes ago now turned more concentrated, and the marines largely found themselves pushed into a line as they attempted to crack the Muthada's defensive position.

"We're getting bogged down, sir!" said the marine next to him in the middle of several bursts.

"Keep up your firing. Watch your flanks in case those bastards try to get around us," said Jack in return, carefully firing his next shot which hit the next warrior right in the shoulder, taking him down instantly.

Sure enough, a small force of Muthada emerged around the side of their left flank to begin firing against the exposed line, quickly killing one marine before his comrades sought to take their revenge. They managed to push back the flanking force but only just barely before another one took its place. On the right flank, a similar situation was enveloping, and the marines found themselves too few in number to truly regain the advantage.

"We might need to pull back a little," yelled Greg who was only a few feet away. "If those bastards get behind us, we're going to be in trouble!"

"Fuck!" yelled Jack, watching the attack start to turn into a bloodbath. He saw another marine take an arrow straight to the face, the gruesome sight making him turn away to shield his eyes. Just when he was about to give the order to pull back, they heard a more steady concentration of fire directly behind them.

"Bucknell, it's good to see you, you bastard," said Greg with a grin as he looked in that direction. Jack hazarded a look back to find the determined face of the other marine captain as several more squads soon joined them to beef up their attacking line.

"Sorry for the delay!" said Bucknell with a grin. "We got a little tied up taking out the Muthada back on that ridge!" Bucknell's rifle got off several more shots, leading two more clan warriors to hit the dirt.

"Any trouble back there, Captain?" asked Jack. "Did you and the men get through all right?"

"Like a hot knife through butter, sir!" said Bucknell with a chuckle. I split the force as soon as we were through, and we noticed you guys were meeting more resistance. I sent a full platoon around their flank!"

Bucknell pointed in the direction of the new attack. Jack was pleased to see the Muthada's attempted flanking force decimated as the coordination of close to forty marines removed all resistance from their path. Just like that, the situation of the battle changed once again, the Javans finding the initiative pulled back in their favor.

"Their defensive line is crumbling," yelled out Jack. "Let's push forward again, marines!"

The majority of them sprang up from the dirt as the last of the Muthada retreated behind the hastily-created line and found themselves pushed back to the clan chief's tent once again. The marines followed, downing the now exposed warriors more easily as the last of the resistance centered around the tent.

Right in front of the entrance, Jack spotted a large crate that held several more Muthada, one of them wearing more intricate headgear than the rest of them. He seemed to be coordinating the defense, and despite having a bow in hand, he was barely using it.

Greg must have seen him too as he came to a stop next to Jack, taking shelter against the ground as they picked off warriors. "Who you think that fancy asshole is? The one with the big hat?"

"I bet you that's the clan chief. Or maybe someone in his entourage," said Jack. "He doesn't seem too acclimated to the bow!"

"I doubt the chief has to resort to fighting too often!" said Greg as they rained fire down on the position.

Their talking had the effect of drawing the attention of the Muthada near the front of the tent. Jack had to whip his head down quickly to avoid several arrows that flew just over top of him in several near misses.

"Give me some covering fire," said Jack to Greg. "I'm going to take out that small group right now before one of those arrows finds its mark!"

"You got it!" Greg rolled out and opened up with full automatic fire, enabling Jack to roll in the opposite direction. Finding the attention of the Muthada focused on either dealing with Greg or avoiding fire, Jack was able to pick them off one by one until he came to the fancy headgear warrior himself. The man was old enough to realize his predicament as Jack's rifle soon focused on him. He managed to yell out with a horrified expression right as Jack's finger pulled the trigger, sending a small burst directly into his chest.

He crumbled against the ground almost instantly, his hand clutching at the bloody wound in his chest, dying almost immediately.

In that moment, Jack could have expected the attack to continue until the Muthada had all run away. Instead, something strange happened. All of the standing Muthada turned their attention to the man who had just fallen. Seeing that he was now truly dead, all of them dropped their weapons while turning to face Jack, recognizing him as the man who had killed their leader. Then, as one body, they dropped to their knees, placing their heads against the ground in a prostrate position.

"What in the world," muttered Greg from his side as they watched them all cease fighting. Several of the marines kept up the attack, causing several of the prone Muthada to take bullets in their defenseless positions.

"Cease-fire!" yelled out Jack while throwing his arms up in the air to get the attention of all the marines. An eerie calm descended on the camp as all signs of battle ended just as suddenly as they had started. Around them, tents had either been torn down or riddled with gunfire. As the sounds of gunfire ended, heads began to poke out of the enclosures as women and young children looked on to determine the curious nature of the event unfolding around them.

Greg walked slowly to one of the prostate Muthada, standing above him as if to inspect if he intended to fight any further. When nothing happened, that major looked back to Jack and shrugged.

"This is the strangest thing I've ever seen," said Jack before he too approached Greg. He crouched to ground close to the nearest Muthada. "What is the meaning of this? Why have you all stopped fighting?"

The warrior was a mid-thirties aged man with dark, coarse hair and a well-trimmed goatee. He looked up to Jack with visible confusion. "We are yours to serve now, clan chief. You honor us by your presence."

"Clan chief?" asked Jack while shaking his head slightly. "I'm Javan. We're the ones that were just attacking you."

The warrior nodded but then pointed over to the clan chief's tent. "Yes, but aren't you the one that killed that man over there? The one with the ornate robes and headgear?"

Jack looked back over to where that man laid against the ground, still as dead as they come. "Yes, I shot him."

The warrior smirked. "That was our clan chief, Adulis. Since he is now dead, you're the new clan chief of the Muthada."

"Stand up for me, man," said Jack. In an instant, the prostate warrior was on his feet, looking at Jack with a combination of respect and deference. Around them, the other warriors watched the scene with a degree of trepidation.

"This doesn't make the slightest degree of sense," argued Jack. "Why am I your new clan chief? Just because I took out the old one?"

The warrior nodded like it was the most obvious explanation. "Of course, clan chief. That is our custom. Whoever takes out the old chief is now the new chief. That is the law of the Andalucian clans going back generations all the way to the Great Birth."

"But I'm not of your people. I'm a foreigner to your lands," said Jack. "Wouldn't you need to be ruled by your own people."

The warrior shook his head. "You are not the first foreigner to rule an Andalucian clan. We've had Picard clan chiefs, Nax clan chiefs, Swabian clan chiefs, and even a high clan king from Angarsk several centuries ago. Andalucians don't care about something as crass as bloodline. We only care about those that are strong enough to seize power. You are our new clan chief. Yet, I'm afraid we don't even know your name."

Jack stammered in his response. "My name is Jack Easterbrook, from the country of Java."

The warrior grinned. "I've never heard of Java before. You'll be the first Javan head of this clan. But the warriors are yours to command. Clan chiefs are in charge of every facet of Andalucian life, only answerable to the high clan king. We will fight for you, die for you, and live only for you. Our slaves are yours to command, and our women are yours to bed. Such is your privilege as our leader and as one strong enough to kill Adulis."

Jack pieced together something he thought of from several days ago. "If Adulis is now dead, why not Bathal to take his place? I met that man when I first came to your camp and knew him to be second-in-command. Why not make him clan chief?"

The warrior blinked at him. "Bathal died in our first assault on your position. Even if he were still alive, that is not our custom. We are here now to serve you, clan chief. Our bows are yours to command."

Around Jack, almost all the warriors still left alive had all gathered in a loose ring around them. Raising from their feet to join the crowd around their new clan king, Jack watched with a sense of oddity as they so easily switched fealty to someone who had attacked them just moments earlier. It was tough to wrap his head around the thought, and he could find no parallels to anything he'd seen before.

Jack looked over to Greg who carried just the same sense of bewilderment on his face as Jack felt internally. Knowing the precarious situation they found themselves in, Jack tried to buy some time.

"I need all of the Muthada to stand your ground right now," ordered Jack. "I need to consult with my forces before we do anything further."

The warrior then nodded, no doubt finding the request reasonable. "Of course, clan chief. You can call for us when you're ready. If you need anything, my name is Abel."

Jack waved Greg over to a private spot several feet away along with Captain Bucknell. "Captain, keep an eye on them. I'm not sure what to expect but if they show any signs of hostility, you have freedom to respond in kind."

Bucknell nodded. "Yes, sir, we'll keep an eye on them."

"What do you think of this?" Jack asked Greg as Bucknell walked back to the Muthada warriors. "There seems a bit too good to be true, right?"

"Too good to me, Jack," said Greg. "I'm still not convinced this isn't some elaborate hoax on their part. Maybe it's part of the plan for them? Lull us into their camp, convince us of some fantastical story while they call in the other clans to finish all of us off? The longer we're off the safety of the plateau, the more time it gives the rest of the clans to act against us."

"I don't disagree with you, and we need to get back soon," said Jack. "But part of me worries about letting them come with us."

"Letting them come with us? To the plateau? No way, Jack," said Greg while shaking his head. "That could be part of their plan too! Get on the plateau and attack us when our backs are turned dealing with their countrymen."

"Neither option gives me a good feeling about this, Greg. I don't know what to think. Their story seems to check out, but I don't trust them any further than I can throw them. I'm almost tempted to make them wait here and see if they get attacked by the others."

Greg's lips twisted to one side. "It's not a bad idea but we don't have a ton of time here to make a decision."

To make matters worse, the Muthada warrior, Abel, came closer to Jack and Greg. He was carefully shadowed by Bucknell on his walk over. From behind Abel, there were signs of tension forming in the camp of the Muthada.

"Clan chief, I must let you know that our scouts have spotted a column of Cethusa warriors heading in our direction," said Abel while bowing his head to Jack.

"Cethusa?" asked Jack. "Another clan I take it?"

Abel nodded. "Yes, clan chief. The Cethusa are one of the new arrivals from yesterday, and their position is on the north side of your plateau. They had their own blood alliance with Adulis, but that will now be dissolved."

"Will they know that the Muthada have switched sides?" asked Jack.

Abel shook his head. "I doubt that, clan chief. Even though such things are common in Andalucia, we'll have an element of surprise when they find out the old clan chief is dead."

Jack nodded. "Where are they coming from?"

Abel pointed in the direction from where Jack's attack originally started. "They're coming down that pass. You can see them now if you look."

Jack turned to where he was pointing and saw the cloud of dust being thrown up by the trampling of several hundred feet in the same direction. It was the same split pass that they pushed forward across to launch the attack on the Muthada, and now Jack found himself in the reverse position from this morning.

"What do you want to do? We can't trust them just yet?" whispered Greg to his side. "This could be a trap!"

"I agree," said Jack before turning back to Abel. "How many warriors do you have that are still standing?"

"About a hundred and thirty, clan chief," answered Abel. "We've taken grave losses in the fight with your men."

"Arrange them in front of us along your first defensive perimeter," said Jack. "We'll need to move quickly before the Cethusa get here. My men will be directly behind you since our rifles have more range. Will you need long to get your warriors assembled?"

Abel shook his head and then gave a whistle, low and long. "Not at all, clan chief. We'll be there shortly."

Around them, the Muthada gathered together in a large circle as Abel issued Jack's orders and then moved as a group to the defensive line that Jack outlined.

"This should work out well. We can keep an eye on them and see if they'll attack their own countrymen," said Jack to Greg quietly. "This will give them a chance to prove their worth."

Greg spit onto the ground. "As long as they don't turn around to attack us as soon as the Cethusa are close. That would be just our luck."

Jack watched as two defensive lines were organized as the dust cloud in front of them grew larger. Abel organized the Muthada into a semi-circle defending the entrance to the lower plain while Greg set up the marines several paces behind them. It was largely a scene of confusion on the Javan side as the individual marines wondered out loud how this new fight would go and whether the Muthada would prove to be trustworthy.

"Remember, don't be afraid to put a bullet between their shoulder blades if they try to turn on us," said Greg to a marine that was standing directly in front of Jack. It was quiet enough to not draw the attention of the Muthada, most of whom were busy notching their first arrows and preparing to receive the Cethusa, who were now charging head first down the ridge.

"Don't fire too early yet, boys," roared Greg to the marines. "Let them get closer. Be sure of your shot before you take it!"

Within the next two moments, two things happened of direct importance. The first was that the Muthada, who had been kneeling against the sandy terrain, stood as one body, their bows aimed toward the sky. Abel gave the order and an audible twang sound filled the air as over a hundred arrows soon entered the sky. Those arrows raced toward the front lines of the Cethusa who soon stopped a good fifty yards from the front lines. It was only once the Cethusa had stopped that their front ranks were devastated by the first volley from the Muthada.

A good portion of the attacking Cethusa fell as the first casualties of the battle but it wasn't enough to prevent them from letting loose their first volley, seeing the betrayal of their countrymen. The Muthada absorbed the arrows as expected, with some ten warriors falling to the ground to never rise again.

"All right, they've proven themselves for now," yelled out Jack. "Let's show this new clan what Javan firepower can do! Fire at will, marines!"

"Give them some lead, boys," echoed Greg as all along the line, the NT-12 rifles roared once more into the now stationary Cethusa line.

The effect was momentous. Much more devastating than the first volley from the Muthada, the Cethusa fell in literal droves as their line wavered, and their warriors started to panic. More arrows soon filled the air as the Cethusa continued to be rankled without mercy from the two very different weapons. Gaps started to appear in their front lines, and bodies began to pile on top of each other. What started as a quick attack coming down from the ridge soon mirrored the earlier attack of the Javans just a half hour earlier.

"They're starting to break!" yelled Greg above the roar of the gunfire.

In the back lines of the Cethusa, men could be seen rushing away from the front lines toward the mountain pass as the tides of battle turned against them. In the front, the number of dead had created a haphazard defensive position for those left standing, but it soon crumbled under the sustained fire. The longer the fight went on, the more gaps appeared in the line.

All too soon, the Cethusa ran out of steam and completely broke. The Muthada let loose one more volley that largely struck the backs of the retreating clan as they charged back up the ridge. While the marines held their positions, the Muthada chased after the broken Cethusa, taking an opportunity to kill the wounded still languishing near the front lines. Several of them even pushed onward, intent on chasing the Cethusa all the way back to their camp.

"Cease-fire," yelled out Jack as he rushed forward while waving his arms. "Stop the killing! I order you to stand your ground now!"

His words had an immediate effect. The Muthada that were within earshot froze in their places, many of them dropping back to the same prostrate position as when Jack killed the clan chief. Those all the way in the front seemed to notice that their brethren weren't following behind them anymore, quickly stopping the pursuit and dropping to the ground in deference. All turned their attention to Jack to await further orders.

It was a bewildering sight for him. He was used to receiving respect from his men, but the kind of deference that the Muthada now showed was taking it to a new level. Their respect was instantaneous, and their obedience to his orders seemed to be absolute so far. Could he continue to trust them? Would they continue to earn that trust?

"I'd say they put up a good show," said Greg, who happened to join his side a few moments later. "If they are still trying to deceive us then this is one convincing performance."

"I'm getting a gut feeling on them that this is the real deal, Greg. I think this whole issue with becoming the new clan chief is real."

Greg started to chuckle. "Remind me to kill the next clan chief we run across. I could use my own clan. These guys look like they'd run through fire if you told them to."

"That's what makes them so deadly as an enemy," said Jack before pointing at the remaining Muthada. "How many of them were there when we got here several days ago? Over five hundred warriors? There's a little more than a hundred left now. They just keep attacking and attacking. I'm glad to have them on our side, but if this is the way the Andalucians treat battle, we need to get off this island and soon."

"After we get Kat though, right?" asked Greg. "We're not going to leave her here."

"No, we're not," said Jack firmly. "But perhaps our new allies can teach us a thing or two about Andalucian power politics."

Greg laughed. "Wait until the rest of the group gets a load of all of them coming up the plateau. They'll be scared out of their wits for a moment until they find out what's happened."

Jack chuckled along with him. "Send a squad back with notice for Abigail and the rest of the platoons. No reason to scare them when we get back."