Free Deadly Shores by Taylor Anderson

by a single, four-cylinder, in-line “Wright-Gypsy”–type motor. The little engines were so reliable that they were being mass produced from Baalkpan to Maa-ni-la, with a new factory even setting up in the Empire of the New Britain Isles. They were used in everything from airplanes to powerboats, and heavier, more powerful versions had gone into the new “PTs,” or motor torpedo boats, being built in the Fil-pin Lands. There was even talk of putting them in some kind of land vehicle.
    Orrin contemplated that for a moment as he scanned the skies for enemies. His Lemurian Observer/Copilot (OC), Sergeant Kuaar-Ran-Taak, or “Seepy,” in the other cockpit behind the high-wing-mounted engine and spinning pusher prop, would be watching behind them, as well as looking for troop movements on the coastal road below. Orrin wasn’t sure how useful a land vehicle would be on this world. A sort of truck might be handy to haul stuff around in the cities—definitely more cooperative than the Asian elephant-size “brontosarries” they used for such things now. They might even be useful in places like the Empire, where there were good roads. He frowned.
Might use some here, if we can ever push out beyond our foothold at Guayak,
he thought.
It looks like the Doms have a few decent roads between their important cities, at least
. He shook his head.
Some kind of armored truck, or even a tank might be better for that. But making them and then getting them way the hell out here on the longest limb of the war probably isn’t going to happen any time soon. Besides, given a choice, I’d rather have some of the new pursuit ships they’re finally turning out!
He liked Nancys fine. They were good for what they’d been designed for, and they were even pretty good for ground attack and antiship operations. They could float too, which was a definite plus, but they
were
vulnerable to Grikbirds. They were faster than the Doms’ flying lizards, but that was about it—and either the Grikbirds or their Dom trainers had figured out tactics to get around that. In response, Orrin’s wing had finally received some of the new “Blitzer Bug” SMGs for the backseaters to use to keep the damn things off their backs. This was the first sortie, in fact, when every plane was so armed. And in addition to their scouting mission, Orrin hoped to find out how well the new weapons would defend his ships. He smiled ironically.
    As a “mere” second lieutenant who refused a more exalted Navy rank, and actually still considered himself a member of the US Army Air Corps, Orrin Reddy was very much like Matt, his cousin, when it came to sheer stubbornness. His official rank didn’t much matter to him or anyone else. He was Commander of Flight Operations (COFO) for the aircraft carrier/tender USS
Maaka-Kakja
(CV-4), and also like his cousin, he’d shouldered a lot more responsibility than the rank he’d accept would imply.
    Orrin was different from Matt in other ways, many of them superficial. He was shorter, with lighter hair, considerably younger, and of course he’d gone Army instead of Navy. Since he’d been a prisoner of the Japanese in the Philippines, his arrival on this world aboard a hellish prison ship had been very different as well. As for personality, he had a lot of the “fighter jock” in him, but as a destroyer skipper, so did Matt to a degree. The biggest difference in that respect came with age, experience, and the fact that Matt had lost so many people under his command. That had given him a far better appreciation for the consequences of command. But Orrin was starting to learn that bitter lesson for himself.
    â€œEll-tee!” came Seepy’s tinny shout through the voice tube by his ear. That was another aggravation. He’d heard the fliers in First Fleet had voice com now, and pilots could listen in on what their OCs, who also operated the