The Rods and the Axe - eARC Read Free Page B

target.
    Wallenstein knew for a fact that the Zhong had enquired with the Federated States as to buying one of their old mothballed battleships, the last in the world. “It’ll make a great tourist attraction and hotel,” the Zhong had insisted. The FSC hadn’t bought a syllable of that, but had instead pointed out that restoring one of the old behemoths to active duty was a matter of years, not weeks, while training crews from scratch could take years more, given that no Zhong in history had ever even sailed in one. “No, having had some long deceased old man on deck for the surrender of Yamato doesn’t count.”
    Beyond the Zhong’s meager fifty tons a day, more, much more, came from the Tauran Union. Their combined air forces had flown several hundred of the most modern combat aircraft out of Santa Josefina, to the east of Balboa. About two hundred sorties a day, each carrying nearly a thousand tons, had been devoted to reducing the island over the last six weeks.
    Wallenstein had her doubts about the effectiveness of either Zhong or Tauran efforts. Yes, they’d managed to do some damage, she conceded. But . . .
    But that island is like they took Old Earth’s Maginot line, anchored one end on Hill 287, then wrapped the entire line around the island in a spiral.
    Still, the aerial attack wasn’t a complete waste. She could see the tilted or peeled-open wreckage of eleven of the sixteen triple gun turrets that had come under attack. These turrets, mounting three 152mm guns each, had been salvaged from mostly worn-out Volgan heavy cruisers, then mounted atop a series of concrete positions ringing the island on all sides. Three to four ammunition bunkers, connected to the guns by light rail, complimented each turret. The rails, in turn, connected to the island’s light railway, a 600mm gauge system that had originally been thought to be merely a cheap way to move troops to training, but had proven its worth in other respects as it contributed to final preparations to defend the island. The rail was a twisted ruin now, too, marked by shattered ties, cratered substrate, and the rusting wrecks of steel bridging. That said, the rail had run through a concrete revetted trench protecting it. This had made wrecking it several times harder than it would have otherwise been.
    The son of a bitch built it, fumed Marguerite, intending that it be used to beef up a defense. He was preparing for this all along, for at least ten years. He wanted this war, or needed it, more even than I did. And that preparation, as ruthless as any in human history, has us behind the power curve. I’d say he’s been out-decision cycling us except that I know that he sneers at the concept. No . . . he’s just had the initiative, even when it looked like we had it. And that’s not quite the same thing.
    Again Marguerite turned her attention to the wrecked triple gun turrets. There was no doubt that they were out of the fight. Nor was there any doubt about targeting them. The only real question had been whether or not they should have taken out the five facing the city.
    Janier, in Gaul, had explained it thusly: “In fact, while there is no doubt a fire direction center for each of those turrets, the turrets don’t need one; they can always direct lay. Second, even if they did need it, it’s either under the guns or out in one of the bunkers, or hidden somewhere completely different. In short, we cannot with certainty render the guns useless by going after their FDCs.
    “Another option is to go after the ammunition bunkers. The problem there is that the guns almost certainly have some ready ammunition in well-protected magazines below them. Then, too, the ammunition bunkers are camouflaged, hence harder to see and harder to hit. Worse, they are better protected than the turrets, which are only well armored to their fronts. Yes, the Balboans poured some concrete on top. Trust me here; it’s not enough. Finally, there are more of the ammunition