Ash: Rise of the Republic (20 page)

Now McLelland had information which would
force the Colonel to make an important decision. He would soon know
if the boy had really improved. When he had arrived in Navasota, a
report from the latest reconnaissance flight had been waiting for
him. The Captain now ambled up the street to the temporary
headquarters to deliver its news.

The Colonel and his staff had taken up
residence in the town's largest gambling hall. The old two story
building was beginning to fall apart. The years had been unkind to
the establishment’s once elegant façade. Cheap construction and
twenty years of corrosive ash had left its clapboards cracking and
its paint grimy. As McLelland approached the run down building, the
Mayor tramped out through the front door. The two knew each other
well. Navasota had been a frequent stop for the Captain before he
had been assigned to the western borders.

The Mayor knew his town's survival largely
depended on the patronage of the weekenders from Campus. He also
knew that the lucrative business would quickly dry up if his
settlement were to grow more dangerous and develop a reputation
like that of Huntsville. To that end he frequently assisted the
rangers, tipping them off when particularly violent bandits or
notorious outlaws were seen in his gambling halls and brothels.

Now, with the proximity of the violent horde
to the south, the weekenders' visits had slowed to a trickle, and,
worse, the regular gamblers and card sharks, always a steady source
of commerce for the community, had fled, taking many of the best
whores with them. The town was dying, and the only cure would be to
remove the cancer. His only hope was that the small army he was
sheltering at great expense would be able to destroy the
savages.

He knew all of this but he couldn't help
growling in frustration once he was out of earshot of the Colonel
and his officers. The Captain heard the growl and saw the anger on
the man's thin face when he approached. He stopped, surprised. He
had never seen the Mayor angry.

"That fat bastard thinks he can march in
here and treat me like a fucking butler!" he muttered through
clenched teeth, no longer able to hold his tongue. "I'm sorry
Captain, you know you're always welcome here, but that tubby sack
of shit can't leave soon enough.” He was pointing vaguely at the
double doors behind him. “Excuse me, I'd love to stay and catch up,
but his majesty requires fresh butter!" With that he stomped off
into the warm night.

The Captain chuckled to himself, glad that
he wasn't the only one annoyed by the pompous Colonel. He took a
deep breath, composed himself, and pushed open the door to the
smoky barroom. The Colonel's bulk filled most of the curve of a
large u-shaped booth at the edge of the room. His toadies filled
the remainder of the padded bench. There were two Majors and four
Captains in the group. The medals and campaign ribbons on their
chests were as elaborate as they were unearned. The table before
them was cluttered with a half-eaten meal and a number of wine
bottles, more of them empty than full. Garza looked up suddenly and
spotted McLelland through the haze of cigar smoke. He beckoned him
over with a flabby wave.

Knowing it would ignite the Colonel's
prickly temper, the Captain couldn't resist blithely waving back
and then heading straight for the bar, ignoring the summons. He
ordered two fingers of whiskey from the harassed looking barman,
chatted with a pair of whores, and took his time lighting a fat
cigar before glancing back at the group of officers. The whole
table had ceased conversation and was staring at him. The Colonel's
flabby face was turning an unhealthy purple. McLelland knew insult
would not go unpunished, but he considered it revenge for the
mistreated Mayor.

Wearing an innocent look, he waded through
the mostly empty tables and chairs toward the officers' table.

"Need I remind you that you are under my
command Captain McLelland?" Garza's voice was dripping with
undisguised hostility.

"Sir?" The Captain pretended innocent
confusion.

"Do you need it spelled out for you?" One of
the cronies, a Major with a sneer on his round, boyish face,
answered for the Colonel. "Your commanding officer gestured at you
to approach and you ignored him!"

The Captain ignored the sniveling boy and
addressed the Colonel directly. "Ignored sir? Oh my apologies, I
thought you were waving me to the bar. My mistake sir, the haze in
this room must be playing tricks with my eyes."

Unsure whether McLelland was playing with
him, Garza waved it off. His feathers were thoroughly ruffled, but
he dreaded his father's wrath if he pushed the Captain too far.
"Forget it. Do you have anything to report?"

Amused by his small victory, the Captain hid
a smile and delivered his news in a business-like manner.

“Yes sir. The enemy is on the move. The
RNTAF found their camp deserted when they made their last flyover.
I received the report when we arrived here this morning.”

For a moment, the Colonel looked like he
would make a fuss about the obvious stab at the army’s late start,
but he let it pass.

“That is outstanding news, Captain. Where
are they now?”

“Sir, that is unknown. We’re waiting for
Captain Collier to report.”

“Unknown! Correct me if I am wrong Captain
McLelland, but is it not your job to know the disposition of the
enemy? I was under the impression you had men watching them!”

“We did sir, that’s the problem. I expected
a report from Reid’s 3rd Rangers this afternoon, but I haven’t
heard from them. Collier arrived around noon; he was down in the
suburbs scouting a route for the Refinery men. I sent him straight
back out to find Reid. I expect him to return tomorrow night at the
earliest. I would have gone myself, but I didn’t want to leave you
blind.”

The Colonel looked triumphant, “What you are
saying, Captain, is that you have failed in your responsibilities;
that you do not know where the enemy is?”

“What I am saying, Colonel, is that some of
our men, experienced and valuable men, have failed to make a
scheduled report and are therefore missing, possibly in duress.
What I am saying is that we are currently blind as to the
disposition of the enemy due to those missing men. My advice is to
wait until we have more information before making any moves.”

The Colonel positively wriggled in pleasure
now, his prodigious jowls wobbling. “Dress it up how you like, you
have failed in your duties. I suspected this might happen. When my
father assigned you to scout for this army, I expressed my doubts.
No one can question the fact that you served the Republic well in
your prime, but I am afraid that prime has passed. Your age has
weakened you Captain, there’s no shame in that; all men grow old.
Luckily I made precautions against such a development. We are, as
it turns out, not entirely blind. Allow me to introduce Major
Price, my second in command.” He gestured to the sneering,
round-faced boy to his right. “When my father assigned you to us, I
ordered the Major to make his own intelligence arrangements in
preparation for just such an inevitability.”

The Colonel smiled patronizingly at
McLelland and then turned to the Major. The Captain fumed, but held
his tongue. This had clearly been planned all along; there was
nothing to be gained by fighting it just yet. He was not too old to
know when to pick his battles. Price cleared his throat and
produced a map from the briefcase at his side.

“Werner’s loose recruiting policy allowed us
to get a man on the inside almost right from the start. We’ve been
getting reports on their movements for the past two weeks. The
latest report, as of this evening, is that the outlaw army is
advancing straight up the trade road. Their last known position was
forty miles east of Hempstead.”

“And how have you been receiving these
reports?” The Captain was genuinely curious. “My men would have
noticed messengers coming and going.”

“Would they have, Captain?” McLelland
ignored the Colonel’s petulant jibe.

“It’s top secret of course, but it’s safe to
say the communications were wireless.”

“Doubtless using technology which could help
the rangers in their work.” McLelland allowed himself a growl.

“Regardless,” the Major continued, betraying
a hint of annoyance, “we know perfectly well where the enemy is. If
we continue on our current trajectory we will overwhelm them with
our superior numbers and firepower.”

“Well said, Major.” The Colonel turned back
to the Captain, “I’m issuing orders to march at dawn. We’ll
continue south to Hempstead and turn east to follow the road as
planned. Your rangers will take point. When your man returns, have
his company take over as rearguard.”

McLelland bit back a bitter retort. “I feel
it is my duty to remind you that the reinforcements from the
Refinery are on the way. I recommend we wait for them to join us.
Collier mapped out a direct route through the suburbs, they can be
here in two days.”

“There’s no need. Major Price’s informant
assures us we face no more than five hundred ill trained men. I am
sure our force will be sufficient. In fact, I have already sent a
dispatch to your son respectfully declining his assistance.”
Colonel Garza squirmed in pleasure again at the renewed scowl on
McLelland’s face. “If there’s not anything else, Captain, you’re
dismissed.”

“Just one more thing, sir. Major, was there
any mention of my missing ranger company in your mysterious
dispatches?”

Major Price smiled, “None at all, Captain.
Perhaps they stopped for dinner on the way back? I’m sure they’ll
turn up.” The staff officers laughed at this.

“Very well, it seems you gentlemen have the
expedition well in hand. I’ll have the kids keep a sharp lookout
for me tomorrow, seeing as my eyesight ain’t what it used to be.”
He delivered a curt nod and then turned without a salute and
stalked out of the smoky room. The Colonel did not acknowledge his
insolence. The boyish Major slapped him on the back in
congratulations and proposed a toast to the coming victory. The
officers cheered and drained their glasses with relish and opened
more bottles. The Colonel called out for the absent Mayor,
wondering where his butter was.

They toasted to victory, and then to the
Colonel, and then to the Governor, and then to the Republic, and
then to victory, and then to the enemy. They were forced to
postpone this last toast for a few minutes while a maid cleaned the
Colonel’s vomit from the table. When the mess had been cleared,
they went right back at it, starting with a toast to the troops.
That was followed with a toast to each of the senior officers in
the army. This series drained the last of their liquor reserves, so
more was requisitioned. With the ranks of empty bottles properly
reinforced, the officers resumed their toasts and continued deep
into the night.

Captain McLelland fumed as he made his way
back to his rangers. As he had suspected from the start, the story
of Garza's thorough tutelage in leadership and strategy was a
farce. He had clearly shown just enough effort to placate his naive
father. He was once again forsaking the counsel of more experienced
men. The Captain was determined that the flippant decision would
not cost good men their lives.

His rangers were scattered around the small
barroom when he stomped through the door. They laid down their
cards and abandoned their drinks when they saw the fury on his
face. They moved to settle their tabs but he waved them back to
their tables.

Deb moved to his side, planting a quick peck
his cheek, his coarse stubble rough on her lips. She risked a coy
smile.

"You look like you need a drink, my
love."

****

And so, in the morning, they marched. The 1st Rangers
sped out of the gates at dawn, ash rising in a plume, behind new
UTVs. The armored vehicles trundled out shortly after, carrying an
assortment of groggy staff officers. Their revelry had continued
into the early hours of the morning.

The UTV's were new, an unexpectedly generous
gift from a Governor who had known all too well that he would need
the Captain's support. They were four seater, four wheel drive
ATV's; sleek cages of tube steel suspended on oversized shocks. The
engineers had officially designated them ‘Heavy-duty Off-road
Reconnaissance Scout Vehicle’, or HORSV, but the rangers had
quickly begun referring to them as ‘horseys’.

The big motors, much too powerful for the
small loads they shifted, were heavily muffled, emitting no more
than a gentle growl, and were statically filtered from the gritty
fog of ash that was thrown up by the thickly knobbed tires. They
were perfect for the Captain’s work: silent, capable, and immensely
fast. Each ranger company was to be issued one of the three which
had been produced, but for now they were all his. As the troop sped
down the dusty highway, McLelland grinned into the rushing wind and
grudgingly forgave the Governor the tiniest bit.

Deb was at the wheel next to him, laughing
in delight at every surge of acceleration. The two blond girls in
the rear seats, the young sniper team that Deb had finally agreed
to bring along, smiled at the Captain when he glanced at them in
the rearview. Legs was driving the vehicle behind them, his seat
adjusted all the way forward to the stops to reach the pedals.
Grumps and Mason were his passengers, their huge frames playing
hell with the suspension. The scouts were in the third HORSV, with
the twins in the back.

An hour later, they skidded to a halt a mile
ahead of the main column. Tom Collier was sitting at the side of
the road, his face grim, his bicycle propped in the ash next to
him. He was a huge man, six feet of pure hulking muscle, though he
had grown a gut in the last few years. Middle age was catching up
to him. His hairline was receding and his waistline was advancing.
He had taken to drinking heavily after he had lost his wife and
children to the deadly strain of influenza which had burned through
the region three years before. McLelland knew he was a competent
ranger when he was sober, and a gambler when he was drunk. The
outlaw army which had gone unnoticed in the middle of his territory
was a testament to the latter fact.