A Desert Called Peace Part 38

The major was out the door and on his way to his next inspection before the submachine guns stopped chattering.

The d.a.m.nable thing is, thought Sada, thought Sada, I can't I can't help help but use the hospital. It's the tallest building in town and the only one that will give the miserable air defense guns half a chance of covering the troops. but use the hospital. It's the tallest building in town and the only one that will give the miserable air defense guns half a chance of covering the troops.

He stood in the walled yard of a mosque, looking up at the hospital building that dominated the skyline even through the dust which still swirled in the air. A company of Sada's soldiers were engaged in removing a substantial armory of everything from small arms to explosives from the mosque's interior. It was neither a small mosque nor a small armory.

While most of the company were busied with demilitarizing the mosque, one squad was engaged in removing the bodies of the mullah, two fedayeen fedayeen, and one operative from the national secret police. Another squad had marched off the rest of the fedayeen fedayeen to the penal platoon which had grown to be a very large company. to the penal platoon which had grown to be a very large company.

Sada looked around, thinking hard. This compound would do for a hospital, This compound would do for a hospital, he thought. he thought. Big enough. Covered. And there's a generator inside, which is more than the hospital can say. Still, using a Big enough. Covered. And there's a generator inside, which is more than the hospital can say. Still, using a hospital hospital for an air defense site... for an air defense site...

Then he considered the other reason, the secret reason, the really, really big big secret reason he had to play by the rules. His gaze wandered in the direction of the local university secret reason he had to play by the rules. His gaze wandered in the direction of the local university d.a.m.ned secret police had better get here and take those packages off my hands d.a.m.ned secret police had better get here and take those packages off my hands and then back to the hospital. and then back to the hospital.

Well, I am am the local governor, after all. I have the authority to close or move a hospital. Outside of a mosque a place doesn't become sacred merely for what it once was or could have been or even what it might be. Then again, what do I get out of it? One aircraft, maybe two. Then they flatten the building anyway. the local governor, after all. I have the authority to close or move a hospital. Outside of a mosque a place doesn't become sacred merely for what it once was or could have been or even what it might be. Then again, what do I get out of it? One aircraft, maybe two. Then they flatten the building anyway.

Sada sighed. Still, one or two are better than nothing. And I Still, one or two are better than nothing. And I have have to try. to try.

"Faush?" Sada asked, "How long to totally move the hospital from there to here?"

"Amid ...I'm not sure," the logistician answered. "It could be done in a couple of days, I suppose. It might be less time if you let me use the penal platoon as slaves." ...I'm not sure," the logistician answered. "It could be done in a couple of days, I suppose. It might be less time if you let me use the penal platoon as slaves."

"Do it," Sada ordered. "But when you do it remove every trace that suggests the building is a hospital. And paint big target symbols on the sides. Yes...big ones."

Command Post, Legio del Cid, 25/2/461 AC "Pat," Triste began, "it's the funniest thing. We got a message over the radio, from the enemy commander. It was in the clear. He wanted us to know that the hospital has been closed and may be considered a legitimate target. He spoke really excellent English, too."

Fahad's chest swelled ever so slightly; the Chaldeans hadn't been given to excessive pride in a very long time. Even so, you could hear the pride in the man's voice when he said, "Well, Legate, I did did teach him, after all." teach him, after all."

"The other thing is, Boss, we've taken fire from the hospital. They took out an RPV. Before the RPV went down, it got some good shots of the other side of the town. The civilians are moving out and being escorted by uniformed soldiers."

Interlude

Makkah al Jedidah, Al Donya al Jedidah, 5 Duh'l-Qa'dah 1507 AH (19 January, 2084 AD) If he had ever doubted that his bedroom vision was a true one, those doubts were dispelled when Abdul ibn Fahad took his first look out the window of the transport and, peering through the clouds, saw the new homeland below him. It was watered; it was green. Wonder of wonders, there were trees trees, not merely around oases, but in forests large and small scattered across the landscape.

Animals grazed, Abdul saw, as the shuttle descended lower to fly over the landscape. Great herds of them wandered, heads down in the verdant gra.s.s or muzzles submerged in the flowing water of the land's many rivers and streams. Abdul did not even try to count them; he knew that all was as Allah had foretold in his vision.

Some of the elephants seemed impossibly large and incredible hairy.

The view of the new land disappeared behind flying gra.s.s and dust as the shuttle came to a hover by the spot Abdul had selected rather, that he had known known as soon as he had seen it on a map for the first settlement. The engines squealed and the landing struts as soon as he had seen it on a map for the first settlement. The engines squealed and the landing struts thrummed thrummed as the ship settled down to a jarring landing. There was another hydraulic sound as the two ramps, one on the side for pa.s.sengers and one in the rear for cargo, lowered themselves to the ground. as the ship settled down to a jarring landing. There was another hydraulic sound as the two ramps, one on the side for pa.s.sengers and one in the rear for cargo, lowered themselves to the ground.

Accompanied by his dozen closest followers, Abdul and his Salafis stood and moved, rifles in hand, to the relatively open area by the landing ramp. The rifles were of the older style, muzzle loading and flintlock fired. They were Salafis Salafis, by Allah, and dedicated to doing things in the old way. Admittedly, even the muzzle loaders post-dated the true Salafis, those generations of the Prophet's time and the two that followed. Nonetheless, the muzzle loaders pre pre-dated the influx of contaminating western ideas and, so, Abdul had judged them, in the absence of guidance to the contrary from above, as being fit to carry to the New World.

Four of his followers, specially selected for their piety and their physical strength, carried the Stone Stone, the single oblong rock he had been instructed and allowed to take from the Kaaba in Mecca. From this stone, the spiritual link to the original Holy City would be maintained. Toward this stone, and the new Kaaba that would be built, the faithful would pray and their prayers be carried across Allah's infinite s.p.a.ce.

With deep piety, the party moved down the ramp, Abdul leading the four selected to carry the Stone Stone and the other eight flanking the porters as an honor guard. Abdul led the group to a spot far enough away that the litter-carried stone would not be sullied by the blast when the shuttle took off to bring in the next load. He told the four porters to guard it and then made a motion for the other eight to follow him. These he led to the shuttle's cargo ramp. Already the first of the camels, horses, sheep and goats were being offloaded by others among his followers. The armed men were not needed for that. and the other eight flanking the porters as an honor guard. Abdul led the group to a spot far enough away that the litter-carried stone would not be sullied by the blast when the shuttle took off to bring in the next load. He told the four porters to guard it and then made a motion for the other eight to follow him. These he led to the shuttle's cargo ramp. Already the first of the camels, horses, sheep and goats were being offloaded by others among his followers. The armed men were not needed for that.

In all things Abdul and his followers intended to follow the ways of those who had known, or followed closely in the footsteps of, the Prophet. What was permitted by Allah must never be forbidden. What was forbidden must never be permitted. All things must be as they were.

What the guards were needed for was the other large portion of the cargo. These walked on two feet. They had been purchased from several sources. Some came from among those who had made the Hajj to Makkah. These sometimes found then that they lacked the money to return to their homelands and sold either themselves or their children. Some came from various places on Earth where certain otherwise illegal transactions were permitted, notably northern Africa, Pakistan's Northwest Frontier Province, and the Balkans. It was this cargo that would actually do the work of cutting the stone and building the new Kaaba. It was this cargo that would warm the bedrolls of the Salafis at night.

There were those 'possessed by the right hand' of Abdul and his followers. These were the slaves.

Chapter Twenty-two.

The power of an air force is terrific when there is nothing to oppose it.-Winston Churchill

Outskirts of Ninewa, Sumer, 28/2/461 AC The sandstorm had lifted two days prior. With that lifting winter ended and a terrible, oppressive heat descended onto the playing field. With the lifting, also, planes and helicopters were able to fly in parts and men from the main depot at the airport and the smaller one at Mangesh. Convoys wandering lost in the desert or hunkered down were scouted for from the air, found and directed. Tanks were recovered and sent forward. It had even proven possible for Christian, the legion's "II," or personnel officer, to ferry in two just-graduated cla.s.ses of replacements, about four hundred privates, to make up for losses suffered to date, plus a bit.

Jorge Mendoza, Stefano del Rio and the tank commander, Sergeant Perez, pulled up in their Jaguar II to a dun-colored building fronting a small square. They were pleased to have made it this far. To this point in time, there had been little action for the tankers of the legion. In fact, only two tanks of sixteen could claim kills on enemy armor, and less than half could even claim to have fired a shot in anger at other targets.

The crew was also a little surprised. Good workmanship the Jaguar might have, and good design as well. But it had been designed for the continent of Taurus, not the desert. Half a dozen times since the sandstorm had begun the air filter had clogged with a ma.s.s of grit, choking the engine to a whining, sputtering death. The Ocelots had fared little better. Eventually Brown, the commander of the mechanized cohort, had simply said, "To h.e.l.l with it," and radioed in to legion headquarters that he and his command were simply frozen. "Better we stop now," Brown had explained to Carrera, "before we ruin every engine in the command, than keep going another few miles and never move again until you fly us in a few dozen new power packs."

Since they had stopped before the dust had done their engines to death, once the sandstorm had cleared the mechanized cohort had made good progress, reaching Ninewa in less than a day and taking up positions overlooking the bridge that spanned the broad, slow-moving, and brown-silty river behind it. The bridge stood in plain view about three thousand meters away.

Perez climbed out of the tank and stood atop the turret. From there he could see the bridge easily enough, plus the tall white building his map labeled as a hospital that looked over the entire town, dominating it.

"It's got to come down," he said to himself.

Perez heard a series of foomps foomps, so close together as to seem to be one, single, long explosion. He waited for a few seconds, half in a.n.a.lysis and a quarter in surprise. Then he shouted, "Incoming!"

Del Rio and Mendoza said, together, "What the fu...?" before dropping down into the tank and b.u.t.toning the hatches behind them. Perez dived through his own hatch face first, twisting around inside the tank to get one arm onto the turret handle. This he pulled shut with a clang as the first mortar rounds began impacting nearby.

The tank shuddered under the barrage. Inside all three of its crew prayed fervently that no Sumeri sh.e.l.l would find the lightly armored top of the vehicle. Even a smaller sh.e.l.l would be dangerous if it exploded there. A 120mm, as they a.s.sumed the enemy sh.e.l.ls were, would burst the top like an overripe grape.

The barrage ended as suddenly as it began. Giving the order, "Wait inside until I tell you it's safe," Perez popped the hatch and risked a careful look around.

"d.a.m.n," he said aloud, though without keying the tank's intercom.

His tank had survived, but not unscathed. Where once the thing had carried two whip-like radio antennae, all that remained of these were roughly sheared off nubs. It was worse further away.

The infantry that had dismounted from their Ocelots once these had halted and had been caught in the open and flat footed. Their bodies the b.l.o.o.d.y, torn remnants of their bodies, rather lay stretched out, torn or eviscerated, across the square. Perez didn't try to count them but there had to be at least ten or a dozen men killed.

The wounded, and there were more of these, were worse. They screamed for pain, for "Mama," for lost legs, arms and eyes. Already medicos were busied trying to staunch the flow of blood, to keep intestines from falling out, to field-set broken bones.

A single Ocelot apparently had had taken a direct hit on top. It burned on the opposite side of the square from Perez and his tank. Someone inside of it screamed. taken a direct hit on top. It burned on the opposite side of the square from Perez and his tank. Someone inside of it screamed. No one No one tried to perform first aid on its unfortunate occupants, though Perez did see a lone soldier cross himself before firing a single round into the track. The screaming stopped. tried to perform first aid on its unfortunate occupants, though Perez did see a lone soldier cross himself before firing a single round into the track. The screaming stopped.

South of Ninewa, Alt.i.tude 14,000 feet, Dodo Number 7, 28/2/461 AC One of the nice things about modern technology for some definitions of "nice" was that it didn't take an ultramodern bomber or jet fighter to drop even a very large bomb accurately. Any old thing that would get off the ground with a sufficient payload would do, provided it could fly above the ceiling for light air defense or that there was no real air defense deployed.

The Dodo, as rebuilt, met these minimal requirements. It could carry, handily, six bombs of two thousand pounds each. Moreover, after a blistering tongue lashing by Carrera, the commander of the ala ala had seen to it that four of his Dodos had wooden frameworks installed internally to allow them each to carry five such bombs, with a sixth on a dispenser rack. The cursing ground crews had worked through the night, cutting, lashing and bolting together the wood scrounged up by Harrington for the purpose. Then they'd worked half the morning using the three thousand pound cranes integral to the aircraft to load the bombs. had seen to it that four of his Dodos had wooden frameworks installed internally to allow them each to carry five such bombs, with a sixth on a dispenser rack. The cursing ground crews had worked through the night, cutting, lashing and bolting together the wood scrounged up by Harrington for the purpose. Then they'd worked half the morning using the three thousand pound cranes integral to the aircraft to load the bombs.

The bombs, themselves, came courtesy of the FS Air Force, an easy and profitable trade in which Harrington had pa.s.sed over a dozen cases of eighteen year old scotch and received in return two dozen bombs. (It was actually more complex than this, since Harrington also had to bring in an Ordnance officer from the FSAF, that officer's commander, and a couple of others to see the deal go through and the planes effectively fitted to carry and use the weapons. For simplicity's sake, though, it is accurate enough to say that one case equaled two bombs with guidance packages.) In prior times, no plane like the Dodo could hope to place a bomb on target with anything approaching accuracy unless the planes were substantially modified. In this case, though, the bombs had been modified. Each of the two thousand pounders had had its normal fusing taken out and replaced with a sophisticated guidance package. The guidance package operated off of the Global Locating System the United Earth Peace Fleet had, reluctantly, permitted the FSC to loft into s.p.a.ce. Once released, the bombs became self-actuating, if not self-aware. They would guide themselves onto target with a CEP, or Circular Error Probable, of mere meters.

(Of course, the bombs needed to be programmed and the ala ala's ordnance folks had not the first clue as to how to do that. Moreover, they had to be kept charged until released and this required some rewiring of the Dodos. Thus, as part of the deal two ordnance men from the FSAF had had to accompany the load to teach the Balboans how to do it. As mentioned, the deal was complicated. It became more complicated when Harrington went back, some days later, for several score five hundred pound bombs with similar fusing and guidance packages.) * * *

"Evacuate the hospital," the Amid Amid ordered, abruptly. ordered, abruptly.

"Sir?" asked Qabaash, the operations officer, in confusion.

"Just a feeling," Sada admitted. "But get the men out. Leave the guns. Now go go!"

There is very little one can do with a computer that one cannot also do, albeit more slowly and with more difficulty, with a pen and paper, map and compa.s.s. The rate of fall of the bombs had been calculated and from that the release point was decided. This had been compared with the bomb's ability to guide itself and an oval shaped area was drawn on the pilot's map, now strapped to his thigh.

Back in the cargo bay, the crew, supplemented by a couple of cooks and a medic, strained to get the bomb moving down the rollered ramp which ran along the plane's center line. It was tricky and required timing.

"Five...four...three....two....release." The pilot, Miguel Lanza, pulled back on his yoke to point the nose of the plane upward slightly. This made the roll easier.

The five men of the crew, all cl.u.s.tered behind, heaved and pushed. The bomb began to roll to the door, picking up speed as it went down the heavy wooden ramp. The bomb disappeared from view as the plane, lightened by a ton, lurched upward. Lanza, stomach sinking as the plane arose, immediately applied throttle to get this Dodo out of the way of the next one number two of four on the mission coming in to the release point.

"Okay, boys," shouted the sweating, panting crew chief, leaning with one arm on the wooden frame. "Let's go back and slide the next one into position.

Amid Sada sat on a folding chair on the flat roof over his bunker, sipping a tepid fruit juice. His eyes were fixed on the hospital, standing tall and white except for black bull's-eyes painted on each side. He heard, distantly, the drone of aircraft. Sada sat on a folding chair on the flat roof over his bunker, sipping a tepid fruit juice. His eyes were fixed on the hospital, standing tall and white except for black bull's-eyes painted on each side. He heard, distantly, the drone of aircraft.

Suddenly the interior of the darkened hospital lit up, showing a montage of broken gla.s.s and torn out cinder blocks cascading from every window.

"I will never again doubt one of your hunches, sir," Qabaash admitted.

"Wait for it, my friend," Sada chided, wagging a finger. "The building still stands. It won't for long."

Seconds pa.s.sed. Once again the former hospital building flashed with internal fire. This time, one corner began to sag. In half a minute another bomb, this one not so accurate as the first two, struck it on the side, almost exactly on one of the painted bull's-eyes. An entire section of masonry peeled away to fall crashing to the street below.

Qabaash looked awed. "It was likely a fluke, my friend," Sada announced.

It was nearly two full minutes before yet another bomb hit the building, again internally. That one managed to start a fire, though the next put it out while crumbling one wing completely.

"How many, do you think, Amid Amid?"

"Why, as many as it takes, Qabaash," Sada answered, calmly. "And if what they have tonight isn't enough, they'll be back tomorrow. The enemy has plenty of time, and apparently no shortage of munitions."

Command Post, Legio del Cid, outskirts of Ninewa, 29/2/461 AC "Truth is, Carl," Carrera admitted to Kennison, "that I'd have spared the building if I could. I couldn't. The other side probably had no choice but to use it, and made the right choice of at least not hiding behind it. But because they used it, it had to go."

"Seems like a b.l.o.o.d.y awful waste to me, Pat." For some reason Kennison seemed more troubled by the destruction of the former hospital than by anything that had gone before. Or perhaps it was a c.u.mulative thing, with the hospital being the final straw. In either case, he had tendered his resignation to Carrera that morning, just before sunrise.

Carrera's face was a stiff mask as he folded the written resignation carefully and placed it in one pocket of his battledress, reb.u.t.toning the pocket when he was done. "In any case, Carl, no, I won't let you go. You signed on for two years and for two years you will stay, in irons if necessary. You were under no illusions about what I intended and you've known me long enough and well enough to know how I think and how I operate. None of this should be a surprise to you."

Kennison looked utterly miserable, haggard and drawn. "That's not the surprise, Pat. Everything you say is true. The surprise is how I I feel about it. feel about it. That That, I never had a clue to. I don't even disagree, in principle, about the things you've done. It just bothers me in ways I can't deal with. Pat...I haven't slept in a week and it isn't just because of the cl.u.s.ter f.u.c.k the sandstorm caused."

Carrera turned away for a moment, thinking hard. I don't have a decent replacement here for him. Kuralski could do it, but he's out of country. Jimenez could, too, but I can't afford to pull him out of Fourth Cohort. I need Harrington where he is. Triste? No. Great intel guy but not an operator. Parilla could run a staff well enough provided someone else gave him the overall plan. But he's still bedridden. I don't have a decent replacement here for him. Kuralski could do it, but he's out of country. Jimenez could, too, but I can't afford to pull him out of Fourth Cohort. I need Harrington where he is. Triste? No. Great intel guy but not an operator. Parilla could run a staff well enough provided someone else gave him the overall plan. But he's still bedridden.

f.u.c.k. I'll have to try to do it myself. That, and try to get Kennison back on track.

"Sergeant Major!" Carrera called.

"Sir."

"Tribune Kennison has not slept in a week. He is currently unfit for his duties. Place him under arrest. Go to my vehicle and ask Soult for a bottle no better make it two bottles of scotch. Take the tribune back to the last town we pa.s.sed and get him drunk as a skunk. Then put him to bed. Place a guard on him with instructions to fill him with more booze when he awakens. Have the legion's chief surgeon check on him from time to time."

Kennison looked at Carrera skeptically. Fine, we'll play it this way for now. But I don't think that's the problem. Fine, we'll play it this way for now. But I don't think that's the problem.

Sada's Command Post, Ninewa, 32/2/461 AC The bombing had become more or less continuous, with one Dodo overhead at all times ready to drop a self-guiding bomb mostly lighter, five hundred pounders any- and every time a group of Sada's men showed themselves. The bombs seemed to come down every five or ten minutes even without a visible target.

This is becoming a problem, Sada thought to himself. Another bomb fell somewhere in the town, not so far away that it didn't shake the commander even down in his bunker. At night we have these things, during the day it's the smaller, single engine dive bombers; those, or helicopters configured to carry rockets and machine guns. Both times, day or night, we have their RPVs patrolling for targets for the aircraft, the artillery, and the heavy mortars. At night we have these things, during the day it's the smaller, single engine dive bombers; those, or helicopters configured to carry rockets and machine guns. Both times, day or night, we have their RPVs patrolling for targets for the aircraft, the artillery, and the heavy mortars.

If it's becoming hard on my my morale it must be worse for the men. morale it must be worse for the men.

Right, then. Best get out of this frigging hole and go see them.

Command Post, Legio del Cid, 32/2/461 AC "That's him!" Fahad shouted in the CP. "That's Sada." An RPV pilot began calling off the grid coordinates of the spot where the enemy commander had been seen.

Carrera, who was spending a lot more time at headquarters than he liked since he had sent Kennison away to sleep and rest, hurried to look at the monitor that carried an image from a circling RPV.

"Are you sure, Fahad?"

"I'm sure. No one walks quite like he does. That's him."

Already the fire direction center was on the radio, giving precise coordinates to one of the Dodos circling overhead.

"Belay that!" Carrera shouted. All chatter in the CP stopped as every face turned to their chief with looks that said, plainly, "Are you out of your f.u.c.king mind?"

Carrera swept a glare back at his headquarters troops. "Yes, I am probably out of my f.u.c.king mind. But I want him alive. He's worth more to us, over there, enforcing the rules than he would be dead and some other a.s.shole breaking them."

He did not give his real reason. I have a use for this man, in the future, if he lives. I have a use for this man, in the future, if he lives.

a.s.sembly Area Principe Principe Eugenio, just east of Ninewa Eugenio, just east of Ninewa Cruz ducked into the trench as the black flower blossomed just a hundred meters away, sending steel shards zinging through the air like homicidal bees.

"They're getting better," Sanchez said. "You've got to admit it; they are are getting better." getting better."