It was still several hours before dawn when Jessie and Kefira followed Tarang Kumar into a cavern near the center of the mine. It was a vast, echoing place whose chill sank deeply into Jessie bones almost as soon as she entered it. Bare lightbulbs hung from crudely strung wire, but their dim glow did little to relieve the dense blackness. In the pallid light, they could just distinguish the multitude of people scattered throughout the cavern. Men, women and children of all ages could be seen resting on the stone floor. Many of them were surrounded by what few personal possessions they had been able to take from their homes when they fled.
As the two of them attempted to cross the huge space, Kefira stopped frequently to talk with individual families. Unfailingly, they greeted her with awed respect and gratitude. Kefira made it a point to introduce Jessie to everyone they stopped to talk with and before they had made it even halfway across the cavern, word had spread and people began lining up for the opportunity to speak with the pair. As a result, it took longer than either of them had anticipated to reach the far side, and by the time they got there, Mr. Kumar had already dragged the weapons crates from their hiding places and was waiting for them.
Kefira stopped and gazed down at the crates expressionlessly. Finally, she looked up and said quietly, "I am entrusting these items to you for safekeeping, Mr. Kumar. I see no choice but to take them with us, but I want you to understand that I do not want you using anything here without my specific instructions."
Kumar looked mystified, but bowed respectfully. "It shall be as you command, Excellency."
Kefira nodded and then turned to Jessie. "So what do we do?"
"Mr. Kumar, I told you yesterday that you needed to assemble all of your able-bodied fighters into groups, each under a nominal leader. Were you able to get that done?"
"Yes. There are eight groups, each group containing approximately thirty men and each with a designated leader." He hesitated briefly and then added, "Half of the groups contain women." Jessie grinned slightly at his obvious discomfort. "They were very insistent that they wished to fight," he said defensively, "and you did say I should take any of an acceptable age that were willing to join."
Jessie laughed softly and patted his shoulder consolingly. "I'm proud of you, Mr. Kumar. We'll make a modern man of you yet. Ideally, we would have our people positioned both inside and outside the fence, but that isn't going to be possible. Kefira tells me the only way out of here is through the main gate."
"The two of you did not come through the main gate," Kumar said pointedly. "We were watching closely."
"No," Jessie said flatly. "We can't risk that in the dark, and if we wait for daylight, not only do we lose our advantage, but anyone who tries to get out the way we got in will be a sitting duck for snipers." She shook her head. "No, our only hope is to hit hard, fast, and with no warning. We go for total confusion and maximum damage in the shortest amount of time possible. We can't give them time to recover. You said eight groups of thirty?"
Kumar nodded, "Plus a few extra."
"So we have a force of roughly 240 to go against our friends outside. I estimate their numbers at right around 50. A little over four to one odds in our favor aren't good numbers when you figure they're trained and we're not." She looked from Kumar to Kefira and said quietly. "You have to know going in that we're going to take losses."
Both nodded and Kefira replied quietly, "We understand. But the losses will be much greater if we allow Birla to continue. It must stop now . . . regardless of the cost."
Jessie took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. "Fair enough. Mr. Kumar, I need for you to get your group leaders and have them join us. I will also need a crowbar."
"I will get them," he replied economically and strode away.
Jessie turned back to Kefira. "I'm guessing that you're probably going to be the best shot of anyone here?"
Kefira shrugged. "This is a rural area. Most people have some experience with firearms."
"No, I'm talking about with a sniper rifle. There are four men out there whose specific job is to watch the perimeter fence and the gate."
Kefira raised her eyebrows in surprise. "How do you know that?"
"Because I've been watching. Actually, we're lucky. Our enemy doesn't take us seriously. That's the reason they're sitting there out in the open like targets. Also, I've seen no sign of high-powered modern weaponry. Rifles, knives, bayonets . . . cavalry-style weapons . . . not modern weapons of war."
"I have noticed that, also," Kefira said with a frown. "It seems strange to me. The Janissaries are mercenary soldiers. You would think that they would be better equipped."
Jessie shrugged. "Why should they? They knew that Bangalore didn't have those types of weapons. Why should they spend the money when it wasn't necessary? Furthermore, modern weapons are much better at killing and that's not necessarily what they want. An individual quickly dead makes much less impact on those around them than one that is mangled, but still alive and suffering. The weapons they carry will accomplish that goal nicely. I'm not saying there aren't more modern weapons somewhere else . . . I'm just saying they aren't here. At least, as far as I can tell they aren't. But that's beside the point. The point is that the men designated to guard the perimeter fence must be eliminated . . . preferably before we hit the encampment with the missile. If we can take them out quietly, then we have the chance to get men into place so we're ready when we hit them full force. The worst thing that could happen to us is for the enemy to get wind of what we're doing and for them to scatter before we get out of the gate. It would make us sitting ducks for their riflemen. So, can you handle a silenced sniper rifle with a night scope?"
"Yes," Kefira replied quietly.
"Good."
The two of them turned to face Mr. Kumar as he approached once more with a group of men behind him. As one they bowed to Kefira and she nodded in silent acknowledgement. Then she said quietly. "All of you know of my sister. She will outline the plan for the coming battle. I expect for all of you to follow her instructions and to command the men that follow you according to her wisdom in this matter. Some of us will die here today. I would say to all of you that there is no shame in choosing not to fight. When the battle is over, we will be leaving this place . . . it will no longer be safe . . . and we will have need of men who can lead those who cannot fight away from here. Mr. Kumar has told me of a place were we may send the young, the disabled and the injured and there will need to be those who can defend them. So I ask you now . . . who among you and your men would prefer to take up that duty rather than face the men outside of our gates right now?"
The silence was profound. Finally, one man from the back spoke up. "Excellency, there are none here that will not follow you. You need only command us."
After a moment, Kefira nodded. "Very well." Then she turned to Jessie. "Sister, tell us what we are to do."
"Okay, listen up. We have greater numbers, but the men we face are trained soldiers. Because of this we want to move as quickly at we can and do as much damage as possible before they have the chance to regroup. I will need one group of men whose job it will be to get the gate open so we can go through it. I'm assuming that it can't be opened quietly?"
"No," Kumar agreed. "It can be opened manually or using an electric motor, but both are noisy."
Jessie nodded. "What I expected. So here's what we're going to do. We saw to it that the yard lights did not come on at sundown, so we've got darkness to cover our movements. About one out of every three of us has a rifle. There are also some handguns and everyone else has been armed with knives. Mr. Kumar will be in charge of the troops on the ground. At his signal, the riflemen will move to the fence and get ready. They will provide cover fire while the gate is opened." She glanced at Kumar. "It would be better if this is done manually. The sound of the gate opening should be covered in the noise and confusion of the battle, but I doubt that the sound of the electric motor will be." He nodded. "Once the gate is opened, it's pretty simple. You leave the compound and you engage the enemy. I want to emphasize that you should not try to take on any of the enemy hand-to-hand if you can avoid it. These are men who have been raised to fight. You will be seriously outmatched in a close-combat situation. Use your rifles and kill from a distance wherever possible. Those who don't have rifles or handguns, don't hesitate to obtain one on the field of battle and use it. Do what you need to do to defeat our enemy and to stay alive. Questions?"
"Are we just to begin firing into the encampment?" one man asked. "It will not take them long to become prepared to meet us."
Jessie gestured for the crowbar that Mr. Kumar still held. "No," she replied. "The first strike will be the Sultana's, who will remove the gate guards." Bending down, she wedged the crowbar under the lid of the crate at her feet and exerted pressure sharply until the lid came free with a shriek. Reaching into the crate, she lifted a missile launcher out of the box and swung it up onto her shoulder. "The next strike will be mine." She thumbed the power switch on and the initializing diagnostics on the targeting panel flashed to life. After a moment, the diagnostics disappeared and a single word appeared on the LED screen. READY. Jessie nodded and flipped off the power switch once more. When she looked at the men surrounding her again, she saw that they were all staring at her fixedly.
In an awed whisper, Mr. Kumar began, "Is that a . . ."
"Yes. The missile should create tremendous confusion as well as starting fires in the camp. Move with care as you enter the area. I've been unable to determine where they have their ammunition stored. If fire gets to that, it will cause a serious explosion." Laying the launcher loosely back in its crate, Jessie took the crowbar and walked over to one of the smaller boxes. After opening it, she returned a moment later with a radio headset. She showed it to Kefira. "You still have yours?" The young woman nodded. Then Jessie handed the unit to Mr. Kumar and demonstrated how to wear it. "The Sultana and I will keep in contact with you using this," she said to the older man. "You move when I tell you to. Got it?" He nodded. "Any other questions?"
The was a soft shuffling among those facing Jessie and Kefira and finally a hesitant voice spoke up. "Excellency, what of the Sultan?"
"He is alive," Kefira replied with quiet confidence. "He is here, in Bangalore, fighting in another area. As we leave here, we move to join him." She sighed softly. "I know that what I am asking of you will be very difficult. But I truly believe, as does my husband, that there is no longer any other way. If our enemies are allowed to have their way . . . " Her voice trailed off, leaving the final thought unspoken, but everyone seemed to understand. Then her head came up again and gave each of the men in front of her a stern look. "But there is one thing I want to make clear. We fight for our country, now. We have no choice. But we are not barbarians, even if our enemies are. Do what you must, but I will not tolerate wanton slaughter for the sake of vengeance. Is that understood?"
A low murmur came from the men surrounding them, and everyone murmured their assent. With a nod, Kefira looked at Jessie once more. "Sister?"
"Okay, go back to your men and begin giving them instructions. Mr. Kumar, I need for you to see to getting the women and children ready to move. The less they have to carry the better. They will have their hands full just transporting what they have to take with them. Wherever possible, let's store personal items here. With luck, they'll be able to come back for them one day soon." Jessie consulted her watch. "I need the riflemen in the large machine shed at surface level in forty minutes. Everyone else I want in the excavation pit, lined up and ready to begin the climb up the pit road in thirty. And whatever you do . . . keep it quiet. We don't want to wake up our friends out there until we strike. Now get going!"
Jessie and Kefira stood silently watching them fade back into the gloom of the cavern. Then Jessie leaned down and began rummaging in the crate once more. Kefira watched her for a moment and then asked quietly. "Where do you plan to position yourself for the missile shot?"
Jessie straightened, holding two black leather straps. One had hooks on either end and the other appeared to be a belt. Picking up the launcher once more, she fastened the strap with hooks onto the weapon carefully and set it down once more. "On the top of the excavator that's sitting out in the yard by the machine shed. It will be easy enough to climb the latticework of the arm structure and the top of it is a good thirty feet above the top of the fence. It will give me a good shot down on the camp."
"No!" Kefira exclaimed in alarm as Jessie began donning an equipment belt. "It is too precarious. The recoil of the missile launcher alone is liable to knock you off!"
"If the equipment is as good as Paul claimed, there won't be a recoil. Missile launchers are pretty well balanced. And even if there is, the machine is sturdy and I'll anchor myself securely before taking the shot." Going to another crate, she opened it and carefully removed one of the missiles from it's packing. Checking it quickly, she dropped it into a special pouch on the left side of the equipment belt specifically designed for that purpose and then reached down for a second one. "But if something should go wrong, the important thing for you to remember is to hit fast and hard and then get out. Until you have larger numbers and some trained fighters, hit and run is going to be the only thing you can do. I know you want to protect your people, but you have to stay out of harm's way. This war is lost before it starts if you die, and you can bet that Jonny is saying exactly the same thing to Hadji. Are we clear on that point?"
Kefira swallowed hard. "Yes," she replied, as she watched Jessie drop the second missile into a matching pouch on her other side and do one final check of the equipment belt. Then she zipped up her bomber jacket securely, picked up the missile launcher, slung it across her back, and fastened the second strap around her waist, anchoring the weapon to her back securely.
"Let's check the radios," Jessie said quietly. After confirming that they were working, Jessie took a deep breath and looked at the other woman. "That's it then. You understand the plan?" Kefira nodded. "Okay. It's 3:15. I'll plan to launch at 4:00 a.m. sharp."
"I will have everyone in place and the gate guards down by that time."
"Good. The sniper rifle and the night scope are in that crate." She paused for a moment and then said, "Well, I better get started. I've got a long climb ahead of me. You be careful."
"You also." For an instant, they stared at each other wordlessly and then Kefira stepped forward and embraced Jessie quickly. "Go with God, sister," she said hoarsely. "And come back to us."
Jessie hugged her tightly for a moment and then, without another word, she turned and strode off into the darkness.
An icy wind blew down off of the surrounding mountains and swirled around Jessie as she paused, clinging tightly to the metal latticework on the arm of the huge mining crane. She shivered convulsively as she clutched the metal cross braces tightly with numb fingers. Even with gloves, the cold penetrated through to the bone. The weight of the missile launcher and its ammunition dragged at her, and she breathed deeply, trying to be as quiet as possible. Below and to her right, she could see the dying flicker of the campfire that marked the center of the enemy camp. Stars glittered like diamonds in a velvet sky, silhouetting the top of the crane as a black-on-black shadow above her. No other light shown anywhere. Taking another deep breath, she began climbing once more. A short time later, she pulled herself up to the top and paused for a moment.
The huge machine she had just climbed was a giant mining excavator. Designed to remove huge quantities of surface earth and rubble, it had a pair of tracks that allowed the machine to move. From the front of the operation center, a huge, jointed metal excavation arm rose at a sharp angle into the air about thirty feet before the lower section of the arm folded down earthward again, terminating in a huge shovel which rested on the ground in front of the tracks of the machine.
Jessie straddled the joint and explored her perch carefully. Finally, she nodded to herself. It would do. Mindful of Kefira's comment, Jessie opened one of the pouches of the utility belt she wore and pulled out a length of nylon strapping. She settled herself as comfortably as possible and then wrapped the nylon strap around her hips twice before leaning over and attaching the hooked ends to either side of the crane arm. Then, she used the ratcheting mechanism on either end to tighten the strap until she was anchored securely.
For a few moments, she sat there, her hands tucked in her armpits trying to warm them, as she gazed down at her target. Everything still seemed quiet. An unexpected flare of light suddenly caught her attention. Reaching into the utility pack again, she pulled out a set of night sight distance glasses and peered down sharply. It took her a minute to make out the shape of the guard bent over the match. Jessie smiled grimly. Go ahead, she thought. Make yourself an easy mark. Dropping the glasses back into the utility pack, she shoved the sleeve of her jacket back and peered at the dial of her watch. 3:37. Time to check her equipment and get ready.
Carefully, she released the strap around her waist and swung the launcher around in front of her. Resting it on the crane arm, she ducked and slipped the shoulder strap over her head, freeing the weapon. She brought it to her shoulder and activated it once more. The LED flashed to life and a moment later, READY shown in the dark. Lowering it once more, she thumbed a release and then flipped open the missile chamber. She reached into the pouch and pulled out one of the missiles. Seating it carefully, she snapped the chamber closed and rotated the weapon so she could see the LED once more. READY had disappeared and in its place she saw LOADING. The READY reappeared, followed by a second line . . . READY TO TARGET. Once again, she raised it to her shoulder and activated the night sight. The camp suddenly appeared before her in strange, silhouetted shades of green. Centering the fire at the center of the camp in the crosshairs of the sight, she pressed the targeting button. A head's up display flashed to life over the campsite in her sights and the horizontal lines intensified.
CONFIRM HORIZONTAL TARGET LOCATION
She pressed the targeting button once more. The horizontal crosshair faded and the vertical one flared to life.
CONFIRM VERTICAL TARGET LOCATION.
Jessie adjusted to her right slightly and pressed the targeting button one more time.
TARGET LOCKED. FINAL CONFIRMATION OF TARGET WILL ARM MISSILE. WARNING: TRIGGER SAFETY STILL ENGAGED.
"Jessie," a soft voice in her ear called. She lowered the weapon carefully.
"Here," she breathed softly.
"The perimeter guards are down and everyone is in place. Are you prepared?"
"Yes. Mr. Kumar, are you there?"
"I am here."
"When the camp goes up, you are to move. Remember, hit hard and fast. Don't give them time to recover. Clear?"
"Yes."
"One other thing, Mr. Kumar."
"Yes?"
"Don't let anything happen to her."
"I will see that she remains safe," he replied grimly over Kefira's soft exclamation of protest.
"You listen to him, Kefira," Jessie hissed in a fierce whisper. "No unnecessary risks. I'll be back with you as quickly as I can." She looked at her watch once more. "It's 3:56. Get ready people. It's show time."
Jessie swung the weapon up to her shoulder again and flipped off the trigger safety. Then she pressed the targeting button one final time. The LED blanked out for a second and then three words appeared.
READY TO FIRE
Jessie anchored her legs in the latticework, tightened her thighs on her perch, seated the shoulder stock firmly against her shoulder, took a deep breath and pulled the trigger. The recoil was little more than a bump, but she hardly noticed. Her eyes were locked on the flaming trail of the missile even as she lowered the weapon and fumbled the second missile out and loaded it into the chamber. She was already swinging the launcher up to her shoulder to establish the target for the second launch when the first one hit.
The explosion ripped through the night and the camp burst into flames. Men staggered out of the tents and she could hear screams as she moved through the targeting sequence more swiftly this time. Her first scan of the enemy camp through the night scope had shown something that had taken some time to register, but when it did, it had provided her with a second, even more urgent target. Her scan showed her a truck parked behind a huge boulder about 10 to 15 meters outside of the camp. It was out of the line of sight of the gate entrance to the mine and as far away from it as was practical. Without hesitation, she targeted the truck and pulled the trigger. A second later the truck exploded with gratifying violence. Jessie had found the ammunition storage.
Swiftly, she swung the launcher across her shoulder again. She leaned over and released the strap across her hips, her breath hissing sharply through clenched teeth as the hot barrel of the missile launcher swung down and came in contact with the side of her neck. She jerked upright, swearing viciously in every language she knew. She clawed the nylon strap loose and flung it away into the night. Below her, she could hear the sounds of gunfire beginning to mingle with the continuing eruptions from the burning truck and the screams. Then, a bullet ricocheted sharply off of the metal structure not far from where she sat.
Time to vacate, girl, she told herself, belting the missile launcher in place hastily. After the initial pain, the burn didn't seem too bad . . . a fact that worried her a bit. She was going to need to treat it as soon as possible. A second bullet zinged past as she swung her leg over and began a hasty descent. It was definitely time to be gone. Furthermore, she was needed elsewhere.
The Janissary troops had fought fiercely, but in the end they had been no match for their adversaries. Hit unexpectedly, boxed in by the mountains on two sides, and the raging inferno of their own ammunition at their backs, the bewildered soldiers had no choice but to turn and face their enraged opponents. And they had turned out to be opponents the likes of which they had not faced in this country before.
During strategy meetings with his superiors, the Commander had often argued that the tactics being used in the countryside were unwise. He was a proud man who remembered the honored history of the Janissary Corp and believed that mercenary soldiers should be honorable and live by the ancient code. That code had always held that there were rules in war that precluded the slaughter of innocents and the deliberate torture and maiming of those they were hired to fight. He had spoken out firmly against the actions that were being taken against the people of Bangalore and warned repeatedly that those actions were likely to come back to haunt them before this conflict was over. Looking around him now, the Commander thought dully how right he had been. Furious and driven, the Bangalorians had struck mercilessly and allowed no quarter, besting the seasoned soldiers as though they were little more than green recruits.
It hadn't taken the Commander long to recognize that his opponents were a great deal more than the lot of poor peasants they usually faced. This attack was obviously planned and led by someone who understood military tactics. Small teams of four to six men appeared and disappeared into the smoke and darkness like spirits, never staying visible long enough to make reasonable targets. They also hit pockets of effective resistance with uncanny accuracy, dissolving the potential threat before it could fully form. The Commander's troops had been driven like sheep by a herding dog into positions that were impossible to defend. The slaughter had been swift and catastrophic.
The first hint of light was touching the mountaintops when the Commander stopped and looked around him numbly. Day was coming, but for the moment, darkness still shrouded the valley. The only light came from the dying fires that still burned intermittently throughout the devastated camp. They were more than adequate to illuminate the carnage.
The coming dawn breathed softly, stirring the still air. The Commander coughed and swiped at his streaming eyes. The sound of gunfire was still now, but the cries of the wounded still echoed through the darkness, and the Commander struggled to pull himself together for the confrontation that he was sure was coming. The flames reflected off of the hanging smoke, turning the air a sullen orange.
They appeared through the smoke . . . six men, grim-faced and tense. All were armed and the Commander could read his own death in their eyes. Holding his rifle out from his side, he knelt slowly and set the weapon on the ground, taking care to make no threatening moves. The six men remained motionless, their guns leveled on him. The hatred in their eyes was like living fire. The Commander straightened and they faced each other silently for a long, tense moment. Then, out of the haze, came a sharp voice. The Commander didn't catch the words, but their effect was immediate. The line of men that faced him split in the middle and fell back, forming an aisle between them. A subtle change in demeanor warned the Commander that he was about to confront his fate.
She materialized like a wraith, striking him dumb. Had he been able to move, he would have fallen to the ground and hidden his face, certain he faced Kali herself. She was clad in black, moved with the authority of a god, and her unbound hair seemed to move with a life of its own. A blood red gem lay between her breasts and it seemed to glitter with living fire as she advanced toward him. He shuddered superstitiously. Offsetting the supernatural image was the eminently real assault rifle, which she cradled easily in her right arm.
Two others flanked the mysterious woman. On her left was a middle-aged man who appeared to be a native of Bangalore. His clothing was worn but of good quality and he carried himself as if he were accustomed to giving orders and being obeyed. The woman's other companion caused the Commander to stare openly. Her fair skin, green eyes and red hair marked her clearly as a foreigner . . . and a deadly one. The Commander had been born into the Janissaries, the fourth generation in his family to have been so, and he had spent all of his life as a soldier, learning the skills of war and how to assess his opponents. The red-headed woman that faced him now triggered all of his warning alarms. She moved fluidly, much like the elusive hunting cats he had seen in the mountains. Her eyes were restless and wary, constantly watching her surroundings, and her nicely muscled frame warned him that she was likely to be well-versed in hand-to-hand combat. Fleetingly, he felt regret. Had the circumstances been different, she would have made an outstanding recruit, regardless of the fact that she was a woman. Then, as she moved further out of the haze and the firelight illuminated her more clearly, the Commander stiffened sharply.
"YOU!" he exclaimed harshly, starting forward unconsciously. Nine rifles snapped up and focused on him, bringing him to an abrupt stop once more. "You did this!" The red-headed woman raised one eyebrow sardonically but didn't reply. Using one elbow, she shifted the missile launcher strapped to her back into a slightly different position. "We had no such weapons, no . . ."
"And what would you have done if you had known we had such capabilities?" the Bangalorian woman replied coldly, coming to a stop squarely in front of him about fifteen feet away.
"We did not bring that kind of firepower into this conflict," he replied hotly. "This is an underdeveloped country without modern weapons of war. We were not coming here to massacre the people . . ."
"No?" Kefira replied disdainfully. "You appear to have done a remarkable job, regardless of the weaponry you brought with you. Further, you came here in the employ of a man who would enslave and massacre them even more slowly than the clean death fighting might have offered them. Do not expect me to feel badly for using the advantages that I have at my disposal!"
"There are rules . . ." the man began with considerable heat, but again she cut him off.
"You talk to me of rules???" For the first time, the heat of anger warmed her voice. She stepped forward to stand less than four feet from him, her eyes blazing in fury as she stared directly into his.
"No, Excellency!" her male companion said urgently, trying to grasp her arm and draw her back. She shrugged off his hand as though it were nothing.
"You, whose people were banned from this country because of the atrocities you committed, the number of people you tortured and killed? You want to reprimand me and speak of rules? Everywhere you go, you bring death and misery . . . "
"We are mercenaries! Our job is war! You would not be so critical if it had been you who had needed our services!"
"There are rules."
For the first time, the other woman spoke. Stepping up, she drew her companion back and interposed herself between the two of them.
"And those of us who wage war know the price of breaking those rules. One of the oldest and most sacred rules of engagement has always been that those who fight are fair game, but non-combatants are not. The honorable soldier does not slaughter children. And they do not wantonly cut down families or burn homes with people inside simply for the sake of breaking the spirit of those who do fight." The woman shook her head. "The Sultana is correct, you have no right to speak of rules . . . not when you and your people were the first to break them."
"A soldier knows the need to follow orders . . . " the Commander replied stiffly.
The green eyes bored into his for a long moment. Then they flicked down to the insignias that specified his rank and immediately locked eyes with him again. "Do you always follow orders, Commander?" she asked softly. "In spite of your own honor and that of your men?"
"A soldier follows orders," he repeated, but his eyes fell and he wouldn't look at her.
She moved forward until the two of them stood toe-to-toe and their eyes locked once more. From the background, the Commander heard the young Sultana murmur, "Jessie . . ." in obvious distress.
"How far, Commander?" Jessie asked softly once more, the intensity of her gaze holding him motionless. "How far into dishonor will you go to follow orders? Once, many years ago, being a member of the Janissaries was something to be proud of. Their services were in constant demand and they were the chosen personal guard of Suleiman the Great himself. Families vied to place their young sons in the Corp, knowing that they would receive the best education of any available, have an honorable career, and be respected everywhere they went. Now, they are known as butchers, and the stealers of children. Tell me, Commander, how much longer will you continue to follow orders that promote the decay of your very soul?"
The Commander stared at Jessie in silence for a long time. Her words struck at him like a knife, piercing deeply and opening a wound that had been festering for a long time. A sudden fascination with this young woman filled him, causing him to forget the others. Hoarsely, he said, "You understand. You are a soldier." It wasn't a question.
She inclined her head in a curious gesture . . . one the Commander couldn't quite interpret. "When necessary, I am a soldier . . . of a sort . . . as my father was before me. But I am not a soldier by trade . . ."
"Then what do you do?" Anger was gone now, replaced by honest interest, and the man spoke easily, as though to an equal.
Jessie shrugged. "At times, I am a student. At others, a computer programmer. And sometimes even a research technician."
"A wife?"
For the first time, he saw her smile. "Not yet."
His fascination with her grew uncontrollably and the Commander realized that he really wanted to get to know her better. "There is a man?" he questioned insistently, hope lighting his eyes.
She laughed softly, but somehow the sound didn't make him feel humiliated. "There is a man," she acknowledged. Then she inclined her head slightly and in a voice that carried only to him, she said gently, "However, your interest does me honor, Commander." After a moment he nodded slightly, accepting her gentle refusal with grace. Then she sobered. "But you didn't answer my question, Commander. How far will you go to follow orders?"
His eyes fell once more. "I do not know," he replied softly.
"Think about it, Commander. The day is coming where you are going to be faced with a choice. I hope you make the right one." With that, she stepped back to stand beside the other woman once more.
"What of my men?"
"Kill them!" one of the Sultana's guards cried harshly. "Kill them and leave them for the carrion birds as a lesson to the others!"
"NO!" the young Sultana snapped sharply, turning her head in the man's direction. "I will not tolerate that kind of behavior!"
"But it is no less than what they did to your parents!" the young man protested.
"The Commander's superiors and companions may have no honor, but I do. I will not act in that fashion. His men will be offered what care we can provide. Those that cannot move will be left in the mine. Those that can will be taken, under guard, to the high pass north of here and released." She looked back at the Commander. "If I give you the chance to get your injured to safety, can I trust you to take it and to leave this conflict behind?"
The Commander bowed to the young woman. "The honorable soldier recognizes when he has been defeated and honors the terms of his surrender. If you demand that I take my men and leave the country as part of those terms, then I am compelled to do so."
"Do you have an honorable second, Commander?" Jessie asked.
"I would have no second that was not," the man replied stiffly. "All of my men are honorable or they do not stay in my command."
Jessie held up her hand placatingly. "That's good, Commander. Under the terms of surrender outlined, your men will be escorted out of this country and they are not to return. But you, Commander . . . I have another job for you."
Anger flared again as he said flatly. "Surrender does not mean you have the right to command me."
"I don't intend to issue orders to you, Commander. But I am going to do something that has always been considered acceptable . . . I am going to send you back to your superiors with a message."
"What message?"
"You are to tell them that the rightful rulers of this country, Hadji and Kefira Singh, have returned, and it is their orders that you and the rest of the Janissary Corp are to leave this country. You are here illegally and the man that hired you has no authority to bring you back."
"You are also to say," Kefira stated flatly, "that the usurper, Arun Birla, is now under an edict of death for the crimes of high treason and murder, and that any that follow him will suffer the same fate."
"Do you understand the message you are to convey?" Jessie asked him.
For a long moment, he gazed from one young woman to another. "You cannot win," he said softly. "The Janissaries are trained soldiers. You must know that if you set me free to deliver this message, then I must also tell them what happened here. Once they know of the type of firepower you have, my superiors will bring in similar weaponry and you will be hopelessly outmatched."
Kefira smiled at the man without humor. "That may be true, Commander, but you will have to get the weapons here before you can use them. And before you have the chance to do that, Mr. Birla will be dead and you will have no employer. Somehow, I do not think a mercenary will fight if he is not paid. Am I wrong?"
Suddenly, the man's face cleared and he smiled. "No Excellency, you are not wrong."
"Furthermore, you don't give us enough credit, Commander," Jessie added. "You, all of people, should know that war is as much politics as fighting. Weapons are only a small part of the entire war."
The Commander laughed then. "If you can fight the war of politics, lady, then you are a better soldier than I. I will gladly carry your message. What is more, I will be certain that as I make my way to my superiors, the word is spread that the Sultan and Sultana have returned to Bangalore." The Commander bowed respectfully to Kefira. "May I see to my men now, Sultana Singh?"
Kefira returned the bow formally. "An honorable opponent is a gift beyond price. Go with God, Commander, and let us both pray that we do not cross paths again."
"Or that we cross paths under better circumstances."
Kefira smiled slightly and nodded. "As you say. Mr. Kumar, go with the Commander. See that his men are cared for and made ready to move. Then find him a horse and send him on his way." There was a glint of humor in her eyes and she said to him, "I want you to get there, Commander. I just don't want you to get there too soon."
The Commander laughed, bowed one last time, and then followed Kumar into the shadows.
Sunrise was about two hours gone when Kefira and Jessie met again outside the main gate of the Subramanian mine. A temporary medical station had been set up just inside of the gates and the two stopped a short way from the busy people who moved among the wounded.
"Casualities?" Jessie asked.
Kefira sighed. "Four dead, about 50 injured. Of that number, about half are hurt badly enough that they can't fight again and will have to be taken to a place of safety. There are about ten who may yet die. Only time will tell."
Jessie nodded wearily. "It's better than I expected, actually. Much better. The hit and run tactics worked beyond my wildest dreams."
"Most of these men feed their families by hunting. If they were not good at stalking, they would starve."
"A point to remember," Jessie acknowledged. "The Commander and his men are away."
Kefira nodded. "I saw them go. Mr. Kumar said they buried their dead and took all of the others, even those that shouldn't be traveling."
"It didn't surprise me when the Commander told me he was going to do that. An honorable soldier never leaves his men in the hands of the enemy if he can help it. Do you know he lost almost 75% of his fighting force? He only had 24 left alive and all of them, including him, were injured in some fashion."
"As you said, the hit and run tactics we utilized were a success. Are we certain that letting the Commander go was a good idea?"
"Yes, I think it was. It gains us several things. For one, it will spread the word that you and Hadji are in country, giving the people a reason to keep fighting. Secondly, it will add tremendous pressure to Birla. Not only does he now have the rightful rulers of the country screaming for his blood, but his precious Janissaries have lost a major battle to the locals and he will know that that success will energize the populace and turn them more firmly against him. And finally, word will spread and Jonny and Hadji are bound to hear about this."
Kefira grimaced. "Yes, and Hadji will be so pleased to find out that I am here."
Jessie snorted. "You think he isn't expecting it already? Trust me, he won't be surprised."
"You are probably right." Kefira paused, watching the scurrying activity. "Tell me, do you really believe that you can sow discontent in the ranks of the Janissaries?"
"Depends."
"On what?"
"On how many men like the Commander there still are in the Janissary Corp. The Janissaries were once the cream of the crop when it came to soldiers. What I said was true . . . it used to be an honorable profession."
"He was certainly interested in you."
"I was just a little different. The kind of opponent he was unaccustomed to meeting."
"One that seemed to immediately understand him," Kefira corrected. "You touched a sensitive spot, I think. And I also believe his interest was much more than professional."
Jessie shrugged. "He was a good man in a bad situation." She paused, contemplating it a moment longer. "He's a lot like my dad, I think. Dad left the service for much the same things that are eating at the Commander. And if you love me at all, you won't mention the Commander's interest in me anywhere near Jonny! He'd freak."
Kefira looked at her and grinned. "I'll try to remember." Then she reached out and tapped Jessie's neck gently. "How bad is this?"
Jessie reached up and touched the large white bandage lightly. "It'll heal. At least it hurts now. For a while, I was afraid it was worse than it turned out to be. My own fault. I was in a hurry and didn't take the care I should have. Have you made up your mind about what you want to do next?"
"Yes. We'll be moving out within the hour. With the Commander on his way back to his superiors, we're under even more of a time constraint. We need to move as quickly as we can to keep our advantage."
"Where do we go?"
"The armory," Kefira replied immediately. "We have to cut off their supply lines. And if your message got through, the Sipahi should be waiting for us.
"The armory it is." Jessie nodded toward the gate. "Here comes Mr. Kumar."
The man stopped in front of Kefira and bowed respectfully. "All is in readiness, Excellency. The injured have been loaded onto trucks and have been dispatched to the monastery just over the border. One of the men who has a home in this region assures me that the monks will take them in and see they get the care they require."
"What of the border? Surely it will be guarded."
"I have sent a group of armed men ahead of them. I hope that the Janissary troops that went before us will have convinced the border guards to go with them. The Commander's second said that he would attempt to get them to do so. If not, there should still be no problem. The Commander told me that there were rarely more than two men at this particular crossing since the only thing for hundreds of miles is the monastery and snow and ice."
"Very good. What of our preparations to move on?"
"All of the remaining trucks, both those belonging to your father and the ones the Janissaries used, have been made ready. The combined number of trucks is large enough that we will have plenty of room to transport all our remaining people. In fact, we have more than we need. What should we do with the extra vehicles?"
"We will bring them with us," Jessie said. "It's not a good idea to leave anything behind that your enemy might be able to use against you later. Furthermore, you never know when we might need them. I assume we have plenty of fuel for them?" Mr. Kumar nodded. "Good. How about our weapons and ammunition?"
"We confiscated all of the weapons we found. All were in excellent condition and well cared for."
"The Commander was a good soldier and required the same of his men," Jessie replied.
Mr. Kumar nodded. "The original owners of the weapons also carried a generous supply of extra ammunition on them." He grimaced. "Retrieving it was not always a pleasant task.
Kefira smiled sympathetically. "You did well, my friend. How soon can we be ready to leave?"
"Within the hour."
"Excellent. See to it and notify me as soon as everything is prepared."
"Yes, Excellency."
Jessie watched the man walk away for a long moment and then she sighed softly and looked over at Kefira, "Well, on to the next step . . ."
