Carnifex. Part 50

Bashir felt naked without his own rifle, as he was prodded and pushed along the well-worn, ancient caravan trail toward what his captors referred to as "the Base." They'd left him his pack, mostly out of laziness, he thought. No matter, the rifle would not save his family. What was in the pack might.

They'd searched the pack, of course; they weren't exactly incompetent incompetent and, what with the turns of fortune in the war to date, they had every reason to be paranoid. Bashir had a few rough moments when one of them shook his little yellow transistor radio a few times, hard, before laying it down with his other belongings. Fernandez had personally gone over his pack and with considerably more thoroughness. There was nothing inherently suspicious in it. As a matter of fact, there was a bullet hole in it of the right caliber, if anyone cared to take a micrometer to check, to indicate he'd been nearly killed by the infidels. Fernandez had seen to that, personally, too. and, what with the turns of fortune in the war to date, they had every reason to be paranoid. Bashir had a few rough moments when one of them shook his little yellow transistor radio a few times, hard, before laying it down with his other belongings. Fernandez had personally gone over his pack and with considerably more thoroughness. There was nothing inherently suspicious in it. As a matter of fact, there was a bullet hole in it of the right caliber, if anyone cared to take a micrometer to check, to indicate he'd been nearly killed by the infidels. Fernandez had seen to that, personally, too.

The caravan trail met a rough road. There the party waited until a four wheel drive vehicle, bearing three armed men, came along. One of the men in the vehicle, not the driver, had one eye badly afflicted with cataracts. Bashir was turned over to these, along with his rifle and his pack. He told the mounted group exactly what he'd told the previous captors. Bashir learned that the man with the cataracts was the leader and that his name was Moshref.

He told Moshref, when asked, "I was working for Mohammad Shah, leading groups into Pashtia to fight the infidels. We got ambushed." That was all true. The lies began shortly thereafter. "I was on point, with my brother," here Bashir shed a tear he didn't have to feign but had had to practice. "He was the older. He held off the infidels while I made my escape. I think he must be dead." Sniff. "You know how the infidels are able to see at night."

"The light of Allah guides our bullets, though," the driver said. "What are the crusaders' toys compared to that?"

The vehicle bounced along for what seemed many miles before crossing a narrow, rickety bridge and entering a broad, steep-sided valley. Bashir thought he saw bunkers, well hidden and in places connected by trenches, along the crests of the surrounding ridgelines. In the center of the valley, dominating it, stood a great ma.s.sif. Streams churned and frothed to both sides of the ma.s.sif before joining and flowing out from the valley. There were many women by the streams, washing clothes by pounding them on rocks. Children, hundreds of them, played near their mothers. It would have all looked very normal but for the large number of armed men training a bit further out, and the air defense guns on the high ground, pointing skyward.

"You understand, Brother, that we can't just take you at your word," Moshref said. "The infidels are clever, vicious and ruthless. Nor are all the faithful, faithful in truth. We've caught infiltrators before."

Moshref's finger pointed to the right, indicating a spot where a dozen large wooden crosses stood, a man hanging on each, nailed through wrists and ankles. All the men were dead, and even the freshest corpse showed much flesh missing.

Children played around the feet of the crosses.

"We deal with them as Sura Five commands," the cyclops said casually.

Since Bashir had very good reason to believe he was the very first infiltrator to make it to the fortress, he wondered if perhaps the dozen corpses were those of truly innocent men. If so, it said nothing good about the notions of justice held by Mustafa's followers in the valley, nor about Mustafa, himself.

"I just came here to continue the fight," Bashir said. "For the sake of my brother." The best lies contain truth, The best lies contain truth, Fernandez had advised him. Fernandez had advised him.

"Mustafa will probably want to talk to you himself."

It was several days before Mustafa made an appearance. Bashir didn't know if the leader had been there all that time or had just arrived.

"Tell me about it," Mustafa commanded Bashir. His a.s.sistant, and second in command, Nur al-Deen, sat quietly to Mustafa's side, looking intently into Bashir's face.

The three sat on cushions on the floor of a room leading off from a deep, sloping tunnel carved into the rock. Bashir had the impression-he wasn't sure quite why-that the tunnel went much further into the ground.

Bashir almost missed the question, looking about the room. The walls were bare and at least reasonably dry. The cushions rested on a rug, predominantly red, with blue, green, brown and black geometric decoration. The style was called "Baluch." The rug covered most of the floor, though a foot or two of bare rock were visible near where floor met wall. Other furniture was at a minimum, two crude and rough wooden chests, a small table, and a bookcase. There were more cushions piled in one corner but these would only be brought out if Mustafa had more guests. The guards, naturally, did not sit but stood with rifles in their hands.

"Tell me about it," Mustafa repeated.

"Ah. Excuse me, Sheik. I was just-"

"Never mind that. Tell me about it."

Bashir told his story.

"That entire party never arrived," Mustafa said, when Bashir had finished. "When another patrol went to investigate, it, too, disappeared. This was the work of the Blue Jinn."

Blue Jinn was a name the movement had given of late to Carrera. They had their reasons. Besides the eyes which were said to resemble those supernatural creatures, he seemed to them the embodiment of vicious malevolence, much as the Blue Jinn of legend.

"It was the grace of Allah and the courage of my brother that allowed me to bring word," Bashir supplied.

"Indeed. We will remember your gallant brother in our prayers. For the word and the warning you have brought us, you have our thanks. How may we repay you?"

Bashir shrugged. "To allow me to continue in service to the cause is repayment enough, Sheik. To allow me to repay the infidels for my brother..."

"So be it then," Mustafa agreed. "You will stay here and join our fighters for now. In time you may be sent back to continue the holy campaign to drive out the crusaders, and to gain your just revenge. For now...eat, rest, grow healthy, and train to serve the cause."

Mustafa turned his attention to the guards. "a.s.sign him to the company of...Noorzad."

The guards led Bashir away. After he was gone Nur al-Deen announced, in his Misrani accent, "He's lying."

"Why do you say so?" Mustafa queried.

"That's the problem; I don't know know why. But he why. But he is is lying. I sense the touch of the Blue Jinn or one of his evil minions upon him. He should be killed." lying. I sense the touch of the Blue Jinn or one of his evil minions upon him. He should be killed."

"And lose a likely gallant fighter for the cause? I think not. Besides, my friend, you forget." Mustafa's finger pointed towards the ceiling. "We have the greatest of plotters on our side. If this man is lying, or a spy, Allah will point him out to us before he can do more harm than He is willing to permit."

A religious argument was the most difficult to refute. Nur al-Deen bowed his head slightly, in acquiescence.

Changing the subject, Mustafa asked, "How progress the arrangements for greeting our guest?"

"The new cave in which we will shelter his craft from observation"-now it was Nur's turn to point a finger skyward-"is almost complete. We're having to do it by hand as an explosion that size would be bound to attract unwanted attention from the infidel. Fortunately, we do not need to build an airfield."

"As I said, Nur. We have the greatest of plotters on our side."

Noorzad's company proved to be made up entirely of other Pashtun, Bashir discovered. Whether that was a cause for relief or not, let alone rejoicing, remained to be seen.

The commander, himself, was little cause for joy. Short, stout, ugly and taciturn, Noorzad had little to say to the newcomer. He looked Bashir up one side and down the other with a single cold, suspicious, blue eye. He asked a couple of questions, then announced, as if daring contradiction, "Marwat tribe."

The commander was frightening. Bashir bobbed his head in agreement. "Yes, sir, from around Daman. Speen-Gund. Begu Khel." Daman was a small settlement in north-central Pashtia. The later two terms were subdivisions of the Marwat tribe, Speen-Gund harking back to an acrimonious (and b.l.o.o.d.y) split within the Marwat on Old Earth. Seven centuries and a few thousand light years were no no reason not to keep up a good feud. reason not to keep up a good feud.

Turning to one of his lieutenants, Noorzad commanded, "Get the names of his people. Send word to our people in Daman for anything that is known of this man. In the interim, he can dig. Take his rifle and give him a pick."

For the first time Bashir was glad that Fernandez had taken in his family. It was the custom of the Legion to punish the families of their opposition. They also had a considerable ability to identify the proper family from what they called "DNA." Bashir didn't really understand that, though he believed it. It was said by his people that, even with a suicide bombing, if the infidels found so much as a scorched bit of bone or hair, or a drop of blood, they would visit vengeance on the family responsible.

Since his brother's body had been reported as found and immolated at the site of the ambush where they were captured, there would be nothing inherently suspicious about the disappearance of his parents and siblings. That was the infidel way. That it was also close to the time honored tradition of his tribe and his larger people only gained respect for the infidels.

Bashir did not have to labor alone. With picks and shovels, litters and wheelbarrows, it seemed that Noorzad's entire company-of about ninety fighters, Bashir thought, though he could not count that high-was involved in the labor. "Labor" was an understatement.

The rock overhang underneath which they excavated pushed out perhaps four meters, or maybe even five, from the vertical. The men had chipped their way in about twice that, so that there was a cave of sorts fifteen meters deep and twenty five or thirty in breadth. Not that Bashir counted in meters.

"What is this for?" Bashir asked a squad mate, as he heaved the heavy pick up for another strike at the rock face.

"Not sure," the other answered, between pick-swinging grunts. "Some say there's a meeting scheduled between Mustafa and some of our key supporters around the world."

Bashir swung the pick, knocking away a not very satisfactory chunk of the gray rock. He lowered the pick, pausing briefly to rest on it. "Lot of work for a mere meeting."

The other just shrugged. "Speak of the devil," he announced, pointing his chin towards a nondescript, off-road vehicle leaving the fortress in a cloud of dust, "there goes Mustafa now."

"Tall b.a.s.t.a.r.d, isn't he?" Bashir commented. "Where's he going?"

"Who knows," said the other, wiping sweat from his brow with a filthy shirtsleeve. "He almost never spends two nights in the same place. The locals here are all supportive, all armed to the teeth, and each little family has its own fortress. The collaborators of the Kashmir government don't even try try to come into this area anymore. Last few times they did, they got run off with a b.l.o.o.d.y nose." to come into this area anymore. Last few times they did, they got run off with a b.l.o.o.d.y nose."

s.h.i.t, Bashir thought. I am supposed to pin a man down to being here on a precise day, at a particular time, and that same man makes it impossible to do so. I am supposed to pin a man down to being here on a precise day, at a particular time, and that same man makes it impossible to do so.

And my family's life depends on my doing so. s.h.i.t.

Bouncing along over what pa.s.sed for a road in this part of the world, Mustafa thought, s.h.i.t. Nothing seems to work out the way it should. When I launched the attack on the Federated States I knew they would come here and I expected to be able to bleed them white and drive them out in shame and disgrace, the same way we did the Volgans. s.h.i.t. Nothing seems to work out the way it should. When I launched the attack on the Federated States I knew they would come here and I expected to be able to bleed them white and drive them out in shame and disgrace, the same way we did the Volgans.

Didn't happen.

Then I saw the hand of Allah in their invasion of Sumer. Surely, I had thought, that with the best army and the most militarized people in all the Ummah Ummah the crusaders would meet their doom. the crusaders would meet their doom.

Didn't happen.

Oh, it attracted the mujahadin mujahadin in vast numbers, to be sure. And the crusader coalition killed them in vast numbers, too. It seemed so close. But with their allies and mercenaries they always had enough troops to meet any success we had while they built up a new government-wh.o.r.es that owe their souls to the infidels, the lot of them-capable of standing on its own. Meanwhile, we were barely able to hang on here. in vast numbers, to be sure. And the crusader coalition killed them in vast numbers, too. It seemed so close. But with their allies and mercenaries they always had enough troops to meet any success we had while they built up a new government-wh.o.r.es that owe their souls to the infidels, the lot of them-capable of standing on its own. Meanwhile, we were barely able to hang on here.

I thought then that Allah had truly turned his face from us. Two campaigns; two victories for the enemy. That only shows how foolish I was, for G.o.d is is the greatest plotter of them all. With the cost of their victory in Sumer, the FSC has lost almost all stomach for the fight. Even now, the bulk of their forces in Pashtia are the Tauros-more albatross than ally-and these mercenaries. These we can defeat. And so Allah shows his omnipotence and his wisdom while mocking our lack of faith. We lost here, to lose there, so we could win here and recreate a base for establishing His law in the world in a more perfect and secure fashion. the greatest plotter of them all. With the cost of their victory in Sumer, the FSC has lost almost all stomach for the fight. Even now, the bulk of their forces in Pashtia are the Tauros-more albatross than ally-and these mercenaries. These we can defeat. And so Allah shows his omnipotence and his wisdom while mocking our lack of faith. We lost here, to lose there, so we could win here and recreate a base for establishing His law in the world in a more perfect and secure fashion.

Curse me to h.e.l.l if I ever doubt the wisdom of G.o.d again.

d.a.m.n all shavetails.

Sergeant Sevilla, 3rd Cohort, 6 Cohort, 6th Cazador Tercio, Cazador Tercio, hated hated having his signifer along on a mission. The kid-he was only nineteen-was just so d.a.m.ned ignorant. Oh, sure; he'd come up through the ranks just like all the others, proved himself in combat, gotten through Cazador School and SCS. And Sevilla had to admit, it was the right thing to do for him to have come with his most forward deployed squad, on his platoon's most dangerous mission. It showed the right kind of heart. having his signifer along on a mission. The kid-he was only nineteen-was just so d.a.m.ned ignorant. Oh, sure; he'd come up through the ranks just like all the others, proved himself in combat, gotten through Cazador School and SCS. And Sevilla had to admit, it was the right thing to do for him to have come with his most forward deployed squad, on his platoon's most dangerous mission. It showed the right kind of heart.

Unfortunately, this wasn't a heart heart mission; it was a head one. And the next new signifer Sevilla met who had his head in the right place would be the first. Oh, sure; if they lived they learned. And tribunes and legates, who really mission; it was a head one. And the next new signifer Sevilla met who had his head in the right place would be the first. Oh, sure; if they lived they learned. And tribunes and legates, who really were were important to the Legion, had to come from somewhere. But the price in lives among the enlisted men, non-coms, and centurions was pretty d.a.m.ned high to produce those absolutely necessary higher officers. important to the Legion, had to come from somewhere. But the price in lives among the enlisted men, non-coms, and centurions was pretty d.a.m.ned high to produce those absolutely necessary higher officers.

Why, why, WHY did it have to be my platoon that got stuck with the new shavetail when we could have had a nice, wise, older centurion in charge? No heroics then; just do the mission and come home safe. The sergeant suppressed a sigh. The sergeant suppressed a sigh.

He didn't really have to suppress it. The squad, all eight including the signifer, was well below ground with a good camouflage job covering them above from prying eyes. Only one little opening had been left in the camouflage, natural vegetation supplemented with a burlap strip net, that covered the hide, and that was closeable.

Corporal Somoza lay at that opening, watching with a pair of non-reflecting binoculars toward the fortress to the south. Somoza's Hush Fifty-one Hush Fifty-one sniper rifle, a .51 caliber subsonic with a silencer, rested against the earthen wall of the hide beside him. A Pashtun scout attached to the squad lay resting near the rifle. sniper rifle, a .51 caliber subsonic with a silencer, rested against the earthen wall of the hide beside him. A Pashtun scout attached to the squad lay resting near the rifle.

Most of the problem was that from the hide you couldn't see see much of the fortress, only some-not nearly all-of the bunkers and a few stretches of trench here and there. Somoza's perch was actually oriented on the most likely avenue of approach for a Salafi patrol, rather than the fortress. much of the fortress, only some-not nearly all-of the bunkers and a few stretches of trench here and there. Somoza's perch was actually oriented on the most likely avenue of approach for a Salafi patrol, rather than the fortress.

The signifer wasn't happy with that. He wanted to be able to see and report more. more. Never mind that that wasn't the squad's mission, that they were only there to serve as a relay and retransmission station for someone below among the enemy. Sevilla didn't have a single clue as to how to identify the spy, except by a code word over the radio. He supposed that if someone were to show himself at the hide and managed to get the code word out before being killed then he'd likely be accepted as the spy for whose word the team waited. Then again, Sevilla was reasonably certain the spy would not know where to look for them; Fernandez was careful that way. Never mind that that wasn't the squad's mission, that they were only there to serve as a relay and retransmission station for someone below among the enemy. Sevilla didn't have a single clue as to how to identify the spy, except by a code word over the radio. He supposed that if someone were to show himself at the hide and managed to get the code word out before being killed then he'd likely be accepted as the spy for whose word the team waited. Then again, Sevilla was reasonably certain the spy would not know where to look for them; Fernandez was careful that way.

In the interim, all the Cazador squad could do was wait for the signal and hope they weren't spotted. That is, that's all they could do unless the signifer had a bright idea.

Bashir was bone weary, every muscle in his torso aching, by the time he and his company were released to rest for the evening. Though he didn't have his rifle, they'd left him his pack. He unrolled the bedding, adjusting it to the firm ground, then took out the yellow radio before placing the now half-empty pack at one end of the bed roll for a pillow.

Lying down after placing the radio's earpiece in one ear, Bashir fiddled with the dial until he found an Islamic station broadcasting from the capital of Lah.o.r.e, many hundreds of miles to the north.

The radio Fernandez had given him was much more sophisticated than it looked. Most of the short time he'd had available before he'd had to leave on the Cricket, Bashir had spent learning to use its features. One of these was an integral, and pa.s.sive due to the nature of the system, Global Locating System positioner. By putting the dial at a given point, one where no station in range broadcast, Bashir was able to upload his current location to a small computer chip. By placing the dial at another, he was able to tap out his simple codes and phrases which were also stored on the chip. A third notional frequency set the thing to "transmit." Flicking the on-off b.u.t.ton halfway transmitted the contents of the chip in a burst and continued to do so every thirteen minutes for five bursts.

That duty done, and no one apparently the wiser, Bashir closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Sevilla shook the signifer awake. "Sir, we just got word from our infiltrator. I've got his location and he sends that the main target isn't there. He doesn't know when the target will return. There is a meeting scheduled for sometime in the near future. Corporal Somoza is already retransmitting the message."

26/7/469 AC, Camp San Lorenzo, Jalala Province, Pashtia "Dammit!"

"Be calm, Patricio," Fernandez advised. "Rome wasn't burnt in a day. Besides, we still haven't even figured out how to do do the d.a.m.ned mission. Delays while we do figure it out don't hurt us." the d.a.m.ned mission. Delays while we do figure it out don't hurt us."

Carrera slowly nodded his graying head. "I know. And I am still not convinced we can can do it, even with the boy's suggestion." do it, even with the boy's suggestion."

"It was was a h.e.l.l of a good idea though, wasn't it?" a h.e.l.l of a good idea though, wasn't it?"

Again Carrera nodded, though this time with a slight smile at his son's precocious insight. Carrera found few reasons to smile anymore. "Clever boy, isn't he? I'm going to leave him with you when...if...we actually go through with the attack."

"That would be fine," Fernandez agreed. "And, yes, Patricio, he's a frightfully clever boy. Pity he didn't have a way to get forty IM-71s and eight IM-62s, of which no more than forty, total, will be functional on the day we move, to carry what we need."

That was a daunting problem. To take the fortress, even if the enemy could be enticed away from its rocky, bunkered and entrenched outside ring, required more than forty helicopters could lift. In the first place, to enable most of one cohort, minus its armor and softer vehicles, to survive attack until relieved required fifty sorties of IM-71s. Under the circ.u.mstances, it would be improvident to use any of the heavier lift IM-62s. Given that the cohort selected would go in with limited mortar ammunition meant that they would need continuous artillery support from outside. Even lifting one maniple of twelve 155mm guns with their required ammunition would take up all the IM-62s. But that wouldn't seal off the area from escape. It could be sealed off, at least to vehicle traffic, by using the 300mm multiple rocket launchers to drop mines at the fortress valley's two entrances. But those would have to move into position to range the fortress. This might well tip the enemy off.

It would also tip them off if the first two loads in-the Air Ala Ala was still configured to lift one infantry and the Cazador cohort in by helicopter in two lifts-were used to seal off the objective. Of course, the Cazadors, at least and in theory, could jump in. Carrera thought about the prospect of his men landing by parachute on either the rugged mountains around the fortress or the valley within it and shivered. In the former case, he would expect anything up to twenty percent broken legs and ankles before so much as a shot was fired. In the latter, his men would hang for long moments in the air while the defenders below shot them up like sitting ducks. was still configured to lift one infantry and the Cazador cohort in by helicopter in two lifts-were used to seal off the objective. Of course, the Cazadors, at least and in theory, could jump in. Carrera thought about the prospect of his men landing by parachute on either the rugged mountains around the fortress or the valley within it and shivered. In the former case, he would expect anything up to twenty percent broken legs and ankles before so much as a shot was fired. In the latter, his men would hang for long moments in the air while the defenders below shot them up like sitting ducks. Gliders? Squad sized gliders? Maybe if I'd thought of it two years ago. Gliders? Squad sized gliders? Maybe if I'd thought of it two years ago.

And then there was the problem of intervention by the Kashmir Air Force, by no means a despicable one. Yes, they couldn't control the tribal lands along their border with Pashtia. That didn't mean they were willing to let anyone else do so. He could bring in the SPLAD, the Self-Propelled Laser Air Defense system, the Legion had had built. But that, too, meant weight and cube and less lift for the infantry. All that, taken together, meant the likelihood of intervention by a Kashmiri armored division before he could finish off the fortress and extract his men.

As far as sealing off the fortress from relief by Kashmir's also somewhat respectable ground forces...he could do it, for a while, by committing the Legion's mechanized cohort. But a ground war between himself and Kashmir was something of a losing proposition. They already sided altogether too much with the Salafis. A direct strike would certainly push them over the edge from secret to open support.

Briefly, he thought about using one of his seven nuclear weapons. But no, the downsides of But no, the downsides of that that are just too great. Besides, I'd have to are just too great. Besides, I'd have to know know it would get Mustafa and all his top lieutenants. They're just not that effective on a hardened, underground target. it would get Mustafa and all his top lieutenants. They're just not that effective on a hardened, underground target.

"Any change on the ground reported, independent of our infiltrator?"

"Not really, Patricio. They're still improving their positions, digging out caves and the like. That, and a lot of housework."

"Any good estimate on the number of women and children in their camps."

"Thousands," Fernandez answered, shaking his head. Do they think the women and kids will be a shield? They're living in yesterday's war, if so. Do they think the women and kids will be a shield? They're living in yesterday's war, if so.

27/7/469 AC, The Base, Kashmir Tribal Trust Lands Khalifa, wife of Abdul Aziz, was as much a part of the movement as her husband, so she felt. She not only cooked and cleaned-for her husband, yes, but also as part of the communal kitchens for all the holy warriors of the base-but she raised the children who would go on to carry forth the movement, the boys, and to breed warriors, the girls. She had only had two, so far, but this was quite good considering her age, nineteen, and that she had only entered into marriage a bit over five years before.

She'd not met her husband before the marriage, of course; good girls rarely did. She had been pleased, though, at the choice her parents had made for her. Not only was Abdul Aziz good looking, to the extent her limited experience allowed her to tell good looking from bad, but he had a bright future. Everyone said so.

It was really only that bright future that had caused her family to go past first cousins to second, which Abdul Aziz was, in searching for a husband for their daughter. With no particular background in genetics, indeed without even the ability to read, Khalifa saw nothing wrong with either sort of match. It was not forbidden by the Holy Koran, of course, and was therefore permitted.