Free Straits of Hell by Taylor Anderson Page A

a few other assumptions. They know this harbor even better than we, and I doubt they’d be foolish enough to attempt an attack through its mouth. The channel is too narrow, as we discovered to our pain. Sink one large ship there and no others could pass it by. We will mass captured guns—there are hundreds in the warehouses—at the eastern approaches, in any event.”
    â€œWhy not the west side as well?” Jarrik asked.
    Safir looked at him and blinked. “The eastern guns will range across, but mainly because all the Grik we ran from the city are there. They are rapidly eating one another up and I do not want to waste troops to kill them, but I doubt they will let us emplace guns in their midst.”
    â€œA shame we can’t talk to them,” Courtney Bradford said. “Perhaps we could have Rolak fly his pet Grik, Hij Geerki, down to have a chat. He may even get them to surrender.”
    â€œIt could be done with one of the big ‘Clippers,’ if it carried enough fuel,” Herring speculated thoughtfully.
    â€œWhy?” Adar asked, suddenly interested.
    â€œThey appear to be predominately
civilian
Grik, Mr. Chairman,” Herring replied. “The first large group of such we have ever encountered. In the past, at Colombo for instance, the warriors slew them all, most likely to prevent their capture. Hij Geerki is living proof that civilian Grik
will
surrender,” he added, “and just think what we might learn from them.”
    â€œThere must be forty thousand of them!” Keje declared. “We could not feed so many!”
    Herring shrugged. “Then we wait. There won’t be so many for long.”
    Adar blinked disgust at the notion but bowed his head to Herring again. “The idea is worth considering. I will do so.” He added a blink that amounted to wry amusement. “And, of course, if we
kept
the Clipper that brought Geerki, we’d have another long-range reconnaissance aircraft. . . .”
    Herring acknowledged the point with a nod.
    â€œBut doesn’t such a large number of Grik, right on the shore and virtually in our midst, provide the perfect place for the enemy to land?” Jarrik prodded.
    â€œI would be more concerned about that if the enemy had any way to know they were there,” Safir replied, “but it
is
one of the better places the Grik may attack. We already have a large percentage of my corps entrenched between the wall of trees and the harbor to keep the refugees where they are. That force is equally well situated to prevent a landing. But that brings up the pertinent point. The biggest problem we face on land is the scope of the perimeter we must defend around Grik City. We simply don’t have enough troops to be strong in more than a few places at once. The western shore where we landed would be just as suitable for the enemy. We have improved the existing fortifications and made many more, but we cannot fill them all. We have even begun moving Grik guns to emplacements excavated in the wall of trees itself, though an attack from the jungle is my least concern. Even if the enemy attempted it, they could not move swiftly enough or maintain the necessary cohesion to storm the wall before we discovered their plan”—she nodded at Will—“and massed to meet them.”
    â€œWe did it,” Chack reminded her.
    â€œThey weren’t looking.” She grinned at him, then faced the others, the grin fading away. “To hold the city, we must keep looking all the time, and we
must
have early warning where the Grik will strike.”
    â€œMe paple’ll halp wi’ that,” Will assured, “but let us fight! We want tae fight!” he urged.
    â€œThe Maroons shall fight,” Adar decreed. “Bring your people in, and we will train them, even arm them if we can.” He looked questioningly at Keje, and his friend nodded.
    â€œWe have many of the old