Confederation -- 22

Chapter 22

During the two days that I'd been MIA, the strategic situation had firmed up for both sides. The Motherland forces had consolidated into a huge group and were now arranged in a miles-long line beginning north and east of Longmont and extending south in a giant crescent to a little northeast of Parker. That formation covered nearly the entire Denver Metro area.

As we flew past, a mile above the battle line, I could make out clumps and groups of men, horses, and steam-drawn artillery. They'd apparently converted some of the steam tractors manufactured in Kansas City for agriculture to war-like purposes, kind of the opposite of beating swords into plowshares. I thought it was a stupid waste.

The Motherland battle line wasn't solid. There were large gaps in many places; nevertheless, I was left wondering if Hattie and I could have found our way through without being captured. It was fortunate that we'd been picked up by the shuttle.

Our aerial viewpoint allowed me to observe that the Warlord's Army was considerably smaller. They were facing the other line in a convex arc with groups of reinforcements stationed at strategic points behind the lines.

There were long picket lines of horses near these groups. They'd be able to mount up and come at a gallop to any potential break-through points. That would allow Jake to maximize the strength of his line, even though he didn't have nearly the manpower that the Motherland commander had assembled.

I wondered how that group had evolved. As far as I knew, the Federal Government hadn't survived the EMP blast and the subsequent attack by the marooned Pugs and Pug-bears. Most of the population had died in the months after the blast. For them to have reconstituted themselves into such a massive force in the last five years was a significant feat that was even more impressive considering the difficulty of life in the here and now.

They'd also traveled a very long distance, at least some of them, to get halfway across the continent. My general conclusion was that they were tough and would be very hard for Jake to withstand.

The thing that predisposed me against the Motherland group was that they'd acted like any of an almost infinite number of barbarian groups in the past. They'd pillaged the land as they came. I doubted that there were very many untouched towns or farms behind them. From what I'd seen, they took what they wanted and left nothing and no one standing as they passed.

I had no problem comparing them unfavorably to what Denver had become under Jake's rule. Sure, there was violence in Denver. People got killed, but the thing was, they all had an equal opportunity to defend themselves. Jake didn't restrict arms, and the few courts he'd set up were as likely to set a killer free as hanging him, provided his motivation was relatively reasonable, and the deceased had been afforded a fighting chance.

I'd also observed that the people of the Denver area were noticeably more polite than city dwellers had been before the Pug-bear invasion. I guess that it is true that an armed society makes for a polite society. When everyone is armed and able to fight to the death, there's no sense in needlessly offending someone. Good manners are the best survival strategy, and the Denver people went out of their way to display them.

The other interesting thing was that men were polite to women and treated them with much more consideration than before. The women accepted it, too. Before society had been knocked to its knees, many women would have a screaming, feminist fit if some man had deigned to open a door for them. Now that life was so much more difficult, and survival wasn't taken for granted, the womenfolk were generally happy about chivalrous actions.

It was true that a woman's chance of surviving giving birth was considerably less than it had been before. The lack of medical supplies was responsible for that. However, there was a far lower chance of a woman being raped or abused. Most of the time, the perpetrator didn't survive long enough to repeat the act.

It may have something to do with the fact that people who live leisurely, secure lives generally seem to amuse themselves by engaging in nasty political and social activities. I'd heard it said about academia that the politics in university departments are incredibly vicious precisely because there is so little riding on the outcome. From my observations, it seemed to be true.

There was also a noticeable shortage of lawyers. Most of those who had survived now were gainfully employed in other ways. Suing someone for any insult was simply a thing of the past.

People seemed to be more serious and more concerned with each other. Of course, there were fewer people, but most were reluctant to engage in fighting. The consequences were too likely to involve physical death and destruction. Social conflicts were generally judged too trivial to risk insulting someone else.

I was tired, and my head still hurt, but I wanted to check on what was going on. We landed at the stadium and were shortly meeting with Jake. He had been out in the field, directing the Denver defenses, but he'd just now brought his shuttle back to meet with the mule skinners who were to haul supplies to his lines. The mule-drivers used large, flat-bedded drays for their everyday work. They were taking the opportunity to lobby for assurance that Jake would reduce the standard tariff charged on loads of supplies brought into the Denver area once the battle was won.

He was shouting at a group of their leaders in the middle of the end zone when we unloaded.

"Look, you thick-headed lummoxes – you're as stubborn as your mules! I agreed to lower our city tariff for six months, but if you don't get out there and do your job, there isn't going to be any Denver for you to haul to!" he bellowed.

I'd never seen him so angry. His face was red, and his movements were rapid and jerky.

The leader of the draymen yelled back, just as loudly, "Takes one to know one! We want the tariff gone for a year afore we'll risk our animals out there. 'Sides, if those Motherlanders take you over, we'll just haul for them. Chances are they won't charge any tariff."

I could see this was going nowhere. The draymen were naive if they thought the Motherland forces would be better than Jake. I stepped in, "Look here, you men." I reinforced my words with a mental command, and they turned to me as I continued, "That army out there intends to conquer Denver, and the chances are very high they'll kill everyone here, steal everything that isn't tied down, and burn the place to the ground. That's just what they've done to every place they've over-run so far."

This was probably an exaggeration. I didn't know what the status of their territory was back in the East. I was just going with what I'd observed in my limited experience. However, I thought my fear was very well-grounded.

They grumbled among themselves but then agreed to get to work. After they filed through the exit, Jake turned to me, still red in the face, and said, "That was none of your business, Dec. I'm capable of handling my own –" He caught himself with a jerk, took a deep breath and noticeably tried to get control of his emotions.

After a minute, he said calmly, "I'm sorry. They really pissed me off. Thanks for the help. How did you get them to agree so rapidly?"

I grinned and shook my head, indicating that I hadn't taken offense. "I added a little telepathic command along with my words. It just kind of slipped through their defenses and made them think about what it would be like around here with the Motherland group in control. They were being sensible, in their opinion, holding out for better terms, but they could see that your terms were better than being burned out," I said.

Jake looked at me thoughtfully and asked, "Have you ever used this kind of psychic power on me?"

That was a different matter. I replied, "Truthfully, I've thought about it, but you're so reasonable and have your people's best interests in mind that I've never had to do it."

"Make me a promise right now," he commanded. "Promise me you'll warn me if you feel the need to use mind control on me. I don't expect you to promise you won't use it; I wouldn't believe you if you did, but at least give me a chance to rethink for myself."

I nodded, "I will do that. I respect you too much to try to influence you that way, anyway. But I see your point about a promise not to do it."

He grinned and changed the topic, "I need help badly. There are too many of them, and there's no way my forces will hold for long. What can you do?"

I'd been thinking about that very topic. The main thing that occurred to me was to back the Motherland people up by using one of the ships to make a firing pass with its bow cannon.

I said, "It will take some careful coordination. Will you give the order for your men to fall back en masse? They'll have to drop back at least a couple of miles, so it will take, say, thirty minutes. Once they drop back, the Motherland group will start forward, and at that point, we'll burn a strip between the two fronts with an anti-matter cannon. That should calm them down a bit."

"Yeah, that should work. Demonstrating that we can wipe them off the globe might make them think twice about attacking," he added.

"The only thing is, you can't let them intermix with your people. I can't make a pass unless there is a clear target. If the battle is joined and forces are mixed together, the best thing we can do is to provide spot support with the shuttles," I said.

We set up a plan to have the Denver forces pull back at a radio signal from my FTL to Jake's shuttle. He'd be in the shuttle, watching from a few miles behind the lines. The major problem was disseminating the orders to his widespread front.

I hustled my friends and Hattie back into the shuttle, and Whistle had us moving quickly. We'd be in orbit and matching up with my ship within the hour.