Deadly Shores by Taylor Anderson Read Free Book Online

across”—he blinked concern at Alden—“across the cease-fire line that separates our forces from theirs in Indiaa. I do not expect the . . . truce . . . to hold for long, but in the meantime, we must guard our words!”
    Alden and Rolak nodded. They’d learned a lot about the Grik from their brief talks with General Halik, and even more from “General” Niwa, Halik’s Japanese friend now in their care. But Halik was sharp. He might’ve learned just as much from them.
    â€œUltimately, it is most important that Halik not know we shift any focus from him. He will only see our strength here grow, and must not suspect we divert any to another front.” He blinked compassion at Rolak. “This is one reason you and General Alden must remain. He knows you both, and he could miss you from the talks if you leave. But he has not met our dear Queen Protector Safir Maraan. Besides, when we
do
strike Halik again, we will need you here,” he finished brusquely. He understood why Alden agreed to a cease-fire, but the very thought of an accommodation with the Grik struck him as perverse. He wanted Alden and Rolak to resume the offensive as quickly as possible. Adar looked at Matt. “And, of course, we are not taking a great deal of our strength on this mission in any event. Cap-i-taan Reddy?”
    â€œThat’s right, Mr. Chairman. We’ll take more than originally planned so we’ll be ready if a big opportunity pops, but with more troops coming in here all the time, the departure of Second Corps shouldn’t make a difference.” Matt didn’t point out that II Corps had been decimated, and it too would be composed largely of replacements and new recruits, but he saw Safir’s predatory grin when he confirmed she was going. He smiled at her. “I understand you want to take cavalry. I agree that’s a good idea; the Grik don’t seem to like it at all, and it gives us an edge when it comes to recon, rapid deployment, and screening troop movements. But I’m still not sure how that’s going to work. We’re talking about a long voyage. How will we keep ‘meanies’ from going nuts and trying to eat our crews?”
    There was laughter. Me-naaks, or “meanies,” were cavalry mounts indigenous to the Fil-pin Lands, and looked like long-legged crocodiles with an armored case protecting their abdomens. They were notoriously ill-tempered, and usually wore muzzles to keep them from biting even their riders in combat.
    Safir smiled back at him. “It required a long voyage to get them
here
,” she reminded, “and I’m told that they will remain quite happy aboard ship as long as they are well fed.” She glanced at a Lemurian standing behind her. “And besides, I have grown to value Major Saachic’s services—and valor.” By all accounts, Saachic had become one hell of a “cav-’Cat,” but Matt figured he would’ve blushed at the praise if he could.
    â€œWhat am I supposed to use for cav?” Pete protested. Matt looked down the table at a large, wildly bearded man named Dalibor Svec, and raised his eyebrows. Svec styled himself a colonel in what he called the “Brotherhood of Volunteers,” and even though his “brotherhood” was primarily composed of a previously unknown continental tribe of Lemurians, some of his people were obviously—somehow—aging veterans of what Matt remembered as the Czech Legion. From previous conversations, Matt had learned that Svec’s Czechs and Slovaks had been involved in that bizarre odyssey at the end of the Great War (back home) when sixty-odd thousand of his comrades, fighting with the Russians, had been stranded on the Eastern Front when the Bolsheviks made a separate peace with Germany. His people were promised safe conduct out of their positions, but when Trotsky tried to arrest them and take their