Free Straits of Hell by Taylor Anderson Page B

muzzle-loading muskets aboard all the ships. As production of the newer ones improved, it was easier for the arsenal to ship finished arms wherever they were needed than to keep track of where—and to whom—the conversion barrels and hammers had and hadn’t gone.” Keje blinked irony at Matt. “No sense throwing away perfectly good weapons—and you never know when they might come in handy!”
    â€œWell. That’s settled, then,” Courtney declared happily. “Muskets for the Maroons! But might I suggest we’re overlooking yet another source of the scarcer commodity: troops!” All the Lemurians blinked questioningly at him. “Oh, come now! Haven’t we been told that a large population of
Lemurians
still exists in the southern reaches of the island? Your very own ancestors! How can you stand not to meet them? How can we afford not to
recruit
them?”
    â€œThey willnae fight with us,” Will declared, glancing around.
    â€œHow do you know?” Adar asked, and Will shrugged uncomfortably. “Me paple’ve . . . skarmished ’em, fram time ta’ time. Thay’re nae lak . . .” He shrugged again and looked at his plate. “Thay’re . . . daffrant fram ye hare. Wild mankeys is all thay are. Thay run away.”
    Bradford goggled at him. “You said nothing of this before!” He looked at the others. “But it makes no difference!” he insisted. “Let us ask them,” he pleaded to Adar. “Let
me
!”
    â€œI will go with him,” Chack promptly declared. “Risa and Major Jindal can lead the First Raider Brigade as ably as I, and in any defensive stance they will be under General Maraan’s direct command in any event.” He looked intently at Adar. “I myself was once . . . unhappy with fighting. Perhaps I can persuade them with the same arguments that once persuaded me.”
    â€œIf you can even talk to them!” Keje snorted. “The La-lantis were difficult enough to understand.”
    â€œYou may go, and may the Heavens aid you,” Adar said, “once our situation here is more secure.” Courtney’s face fell. “Do we even know where these people are?” he asked Will.
    â€œNay. Not surely. Jas sout, alang tha mantains, east an’ west, in tha jangle an’ tha barren lands both. Different tribes.”
    â€œSo they would have to be found before we could even contact them,” Keje muttered, and looked at Adar. “I must counsel against it at present. We cannot spare officers such as Chack and the necessary security he and Mr. Braad-furd would require on such an indefinite mission.”
    â€œIf they are as shy as Will suggests, a large force would only frighten them,” Chack countered. “A smaller group might fare better; only Mr. Braad-furd, myself, and perhaps a few others.” The last was directed at Captain Reddy as a question, and Matt almost groaned, but then reconsidered.
Why not?
    â€œ
If
you go, and if Silva’s fit, he can go with you,” Matt agreed. “But if he causes any trouble, shoot him.” He suddenly had an inspiration. He’d asked that Ensign Hardee be summoned to the meeting so he could get a feel for him. All reports said the kid had picked up PT tactics from Winny Rominger and then Irvin Laumer better than anyone. Maybe an independent command would be a good test—before giving him the whole MTB squadron, as he’d been contemplating. “Mr. Hardee?”
    The kid had been watching the proceedings with wide eyes. If possible, they got even wider and he bolted to his feet. “Sir?” he squeaked.
    â€œYou take them, if Adar agrees to the mission. Draw one of the new Brownings for the Seven boat too. It’s time all the PTs had something to defend themselves with.”
    Adar nodded, blinking a combination of yearning and concern. “Of course