Storm Surge (Destroyermen, Band 8) - Softcover

Anderson, Taylor

Softcover

ISBN 10: 045141909X ISBN 13: 9780451419095

Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group, 2014

Inhaltsangabe

In the Pacific, as USS Walker is repaired and updated after a previous battle and Matt Reddy is healing from his wounds, planning begins for a bold raid on the very heart of the Grik Empire.

But time is running out for the Alliance army in Indiaa, and the Allied forces in the west must gather in an unprecedented land, air, and sea campaign to destroy the mighty Grik battle fleet and break through to their relief. All other plans go on hold when the attempt proves more difficult—and more heartbreakingly costly—than anyone imagined.

Meanwhile, the struggle continues on other fronts near and far: in the jungles of Borno in distant southern Africa and in the Americas, where the Allies are finally learning the terrible truth about the twisted Dominion.

The Alliance is on the offensive everywhere, but their enemies have a few surprises, including new weaponry and new tactics...and a stunning geographic advantage that Reddy never suspected.

Until now.

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Taylor Anderson is the author of the Destroyermen novels: Storm Surge, Iron Gray Sea, Firestorm, Rising Tides, Distant Thunders, Maelstrom, and Into the Storm. He is a gunmaker and forensic ballistic archaeologist who has been a technical and dialogue consultant for movies and documentaries. He is also a member of the National Historical Honor Society and the United States Field Artillery Association, which awarded him the Honorable Order of St. Barbara. He has a master’s degree in history and has taught that subject at Tarleton State University in Stephenville, Texas. He lives in nearby Granbury with his family.

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Maa–ni–la Navy Yard

Fil–pin Lands

March 9, 1944

Lieutenant Commander Matthew Reddy, High Chief of the Amer–i–caan Clan, Supreme Commander (by acclamation) of All Forces United Beneath (or Beside) the Banner of the Trees, and Captain of the old Asiatic Fleet four–stacker destroyer USS Walker (DD–163), loved baseball. He loved football too, and just about any team sport, as a matter of fact, but unlike many of the dwindling survivors of Walker, Mahan, and the old submarine S–19 on this world, he’d never closely followed the professional variety. He couldn’t recite team rosters or quote stats. He didn’t much care about all that and never had. He did care about the ball games between the various ships’ teams, however, and today hisWalkers were playing the “Eastern League” champs from the Fil–pin shipyards: the Inaa Araang, or, roughly, “Rivet Drivers.”

For just a while, Matt’s anxious mind could concentrate on something besides the vast war raging across the known reaches of this “other” earth. He could suppress his revulsion over the treachery and barbarism on the eastern front across the broad Pacific, or Eastern Sea. He could worry about something less tragic than the dreadful losses and strategic setbacks plaguing the war in the west. He could let his own plans—and painful wounds—sink back away from his foremost consciousness, if only for a brief rejuvenating spell. For a few hours, he could enjoy himself and all the people around him, human or Lemurian, who took the same pleasure and comfort from an admittedly serious contest, but one not designed to end in slaughter.

The big game was underway in the main Maa–ni–la ballpark (one of three), in what had become the heart of the city. Once the area had been a kind of buffer between the city and its already impressive shipyards, almost a Central Park like Matt remembered in Manhattan. It was unlike the similar zone in Baalkpan, though, that pulsed with a never–ending bazaar. The closest thing in that distant city was the Parade Ground around Baalkpan’s Great Hall, which had become a peaceful refuge for those come to visit the war dead buried there. Again like Central Park, this had been a common area anyone could visit and use. The same still applied, but now there was a dirt diamond and impressive bleachers. The seats were protected by a backstop of woven wire from the new barbed–wire works—minus the barbs—and there was no wall on the far end of the field, just a chalky line no one dared cross on pain of eviction. Still, just as many Lemurians clambered for good spots beyond the outfield, hoping to catch one of the still–rare balls, as did those who packed the bleachers.

It was a full house, and even the area around the ballpark was packed. Matt had grown accustomed to surrealistic scenes on this earth, but this was really weird. He was watching a genuine baseball game, played mostly by very feline–looking creatures covered with fur of every color or combination of colors imaginable. The sea of spectators reacted as any baseball crowd would, even if they were just as wildly colored and the sounds weren’t exactly right. Beyond the crowd, the shipyard had grown to a sprawling, all–encompassing thing no buffer zone could ever tame again. Masts of ships and coiling smoke and steam from mighty engines practically blotted out any view of Maa–ni–la Bay or distant Corregidor, and the Maara–vella Advanced Training Center, or ATC, couldn’t be seen at all.

Matt knew the city behind him had expanded just as much. Already bigger and more populous than Baalkpan, Maa–ni–la had exploded. Initially flooded with “runaways”—people from other lands and seagoing Homes threatened by the ravening Ancient Enemy (the furry/feathery, reptilian Grik) who only wanted to escape the war, there’d been some . . . difficulty when Maa–ni–la joined the Grand Alliance. Most eventually realized they’d have to fight sooner or later, because after the Fil–pin Lands there was nowhere else to flee. This grew even more apparent when they discovered new allies across the great Eastern Sea—but more enemies as well. There were few “runaways” left, and, bolstered by its industry and broader resource and population base, ,all the Fil–pin Lands, and Maa–ni–la in particular, became a powerhouse. Baalkpan, where Balikpapan, Borneo, should have been, had done very well for itself as well and remained the “first city” of the Grand Alliance. But there could be no offensives without Maa–ni–la—and its high chief, Saan–Kakja.

Saan–Kakja was a remarkable Lemurian. Her black–and–gold striated eyes were utterly mesmerizing, and though still young for her job, she’d taken hold with an iron hand of the chaotic mess the Fil–pin Lands had been. Actually considered somewhat authoritarian for the tastes of some Lemurians, she’d united and directed her Home toward membership in the Grand Alliance. She’d done it without any personal ambition. She had no desire to lead anything but her own Home, and wanted equality, not dominance, for her people—and, ultimately, for all people everywhere. Given that ideal, Matt recognized she was worldly enough to have ambition for her people. She wanted all who opposed the evil Grik, and now the Dominion, to live free and prosper—but if her people were a little more prosperous than others, that was okay by her.

Matt smiled at the Lemurian leader seated on the other side of Sandra. Sandra was his wife, doctor, primary advisor, and the Minister of Medicine for the whole Alliance. Saan–Kakja grinned back, her perfect young teeth sharp and white. She was really enjoying the game, Matt realized. Well, so was he. It had somewhat unexpectedly become a nail–biter.

Lemurians had taken to baseball like ducks to water. The game was superficially similar to an ancient ’Cat (Lemurian) game in which contestants whacked a lobbed coconutlike object with a long, flat bat, the object being to attain the greatest distance. That translated easily enough to baseball, but the added complexity, strategy, and teamwork appealed to them as well. Initially dismissed by humans—and themselves—as somewhat unimaginative (except when it came to architecture!) Lemurians discovered a love for strategy that rivaled their blossoming interest in gizmos. They related structured strategy with rigid rules—like chess, which was also catching on—to complicated machines, and they loved it. Lemurians universally excelled when all the parts were there or all the pieces were on the table, but some—like Lt. Colonel Chack–Sab–At, his beloved General Queen Safir–Maraan, General Lord Muln–Rolak, and even CINCWEST Keje–Fris–Ar, to some degree, were learning to use initiative and imagination.

Chack’s plan for the reconquest of New Ireland had been good, but the way he’d reacted when it fell apart was actually rather brilliant, in Matt’s opinion. With the exception of Safir and Rolak, there hadn’t been any experienced Lemurian war leaders before the war, and there’d been an adjustment period while they had to shift mental gears as a people. Now quite a few ’Cats were starting to shine on the battlefield, quickly adjusting to unexpected situations and generally doing at least as well as any human commander might in the same situation. That was good, because their enemies were getting uncomfortably better too. Matt was proud, but still a...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2014
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 045141909X
• ISBN 13: 9780451419095
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 512
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: ACE; https://www.penguin.com/; ; Bachstelzenweg 10; Ibbenb?ren; 49479; Deutschland