Computer War by Mack Reynolds

Author:Mack Reynolds [Reynolds, Mack]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Ace
Published: 1967-07-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

NUMBER ONE, for once showing his years, sat in almost continual audience consulting with his inmost associates, his deputies of commissariats, and closest advisers. To his side, and slightly behind, was Pater Riggin, largely silent but ever alert. It was more or less unprecedented; the Temple Monk was seldom seen in company with the Presidor, certainly not during official business.

On this occasion, Marshal Croft-Gordon was reporting. His tone of voice was barely short of accusation, as though it were the fault of the Presidor that so much of the unexpected had developed.

"Largely," he rapped, "they retreat. However, in some localities they turn and fight like madmen."

"What localities?"

"Largely, where natural conditions are such that it is most difficult for us to bring to bear our superior equipment. The Tatra Mountains, for instance, possibly the most rugged on the planet. They evidently have special mountain troops, long trained. The terrain is impossible for tanks, even the light hover models. Aircraft are all but useless, even hoppers. Bombings, although we continue to utilize them, are largely farce and more for the morale of our own troops than for the damage they inflict. Even so, among the peaks, cliffs, gorges, valleys, we've taken a good many aircraft losses when our fliers go in low enough to drop their bombs with any accuracy at all."

Number One scowled at him. "Can't our own men go in on foot?"

"Yes, Your Leadership…"

Pater Riggin looked at the military head inquiringly. He hadn't missed the way the other pronounced the title. Evidently, Number One, in his agitation, had failed to notice.

"… however, mountains in Alphaland are comparatively gentle and our mountaineers few. The Betastani get about on skis and on devices called snowshoes. They have little motorized equipment, but this is especially adapted to snow and mountains. It is as though their commanding officers always expected to fight a defensive action in this terrain. Their men are armed largely with rifles with telescopic sights. Individuals, or small squads, sit in caves or on mountain tops and pick off our men at great distances, one by one. By the time we've secured one area, they manage to infiltrate around it and attack our supply and communications lines from the rear. It is all we can do to program our portable military computers quickly enough to handle each new situation that develops."

Number One thought about it for a time. "Where else do they hold out?"

"In the swampy areas of their southernmost provinces.

It's not quite as bad as the mountains. Some of our equipment is usable, especially along the roads. However…" He hesitated. The anger had been growing in his voice as he reported.

"However, what?"

"They blow the bridges, tear down communication lines, destroy surprisingly long stretches of roads going through the worst of the swamp areas." He said, with considerable disgust, "You'd think they didn't give a damn what their countryside will look like when the war is over."

"Scorched earth policy," Pater Riggin muttered.

Number One turned on him. "What?"

The Temple Monk shrugged and patted his rounded tummy.

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