CHAPTER 36
Jack built up a vast network of spies to keep him informed. That night one of them flew in, looking terrified. Poor Jack turned white when he reviewed the news. Everyone gathered around. Jack tapped his throat so everyone could hear.
“General Tamerlane is coming with a marathon division.”
“We need more super-quads,” Bear concluded. “We should all recruit every super-quad we know. Hell, we should have done that as soon as Red arrived.”
Nobody could argue with that, so most took off to convince old war comrades to join Team Red. Jack flew to get the new Americans, who were already late.
Vemana and Sarvanja, two ancient cousins from India who looked like identical twins, sought out Billy. Two centuries ago, Tamerlane sacked Delhi and stacked one hundred thousand skulls into a giant pyramid. Jack lost several thousand quads and the cousins lost most of their extended family, but at least they stayed loyal to Jack after all these long years.
Billy always saw them as very tough birds, but now they looked scared to death.
“Sorry, ladies,” he greeted them, “but Tamerlane is mine. I have a personal grudge against him that I don’t care to explain.”
“You’ll kill him for sure?” one of them asked.
“I must be the one who kills him. But I’ll give you the video of his death.”
Their vast relief made them look like they just finished a giant dump. Their lips turned in what Billy assumed must be smiles. They hugged each other excitedly and, for a moment, Billy feared they’d hug him, too.
“Can you bring me some premium talent from India?” he asked them. “I may need help with the other ten thousand Mongols.”
They left for India without even waiting for lunch.
“No way they get back in time,” Billy predicted.
“Maybe not,” Bear said, “but every super-quad in India respects them. If you kill Tamerlane, you’ll have the gratitude of all of India. Even Indians with Mongol blood hate Tamer the Lame.”
“We don’t even know when the new bad guys will get here,” Billy complained.
“I’ll go find them,” Prince offered.
“You just don’t like seeing me with your sister,” Billy taunted him with a smile.
Prince playfully stuck out his tongue.
Billy returned to his little tent, only to find Mali waiting for him with his wife.
“I don’t think I’m pregnant yet,” Mali complained angrily, as if it was his fault.
Over the next week, Billy re-organized those who stayed according to how high they could fly. Wand strength didn’t matter so much as ability to breathe slowly. When quads returned, he placed them in ten under-strength companies according to their ceiling. Company #1 could fly the highest, while the lowest ceiling made up #10. Billy put them through the usual formation maneuvers to get them used to each other.
It surprised everyone when Prince returned just a week later to tell them that the Mongol marathoners landed in Valencia after dark and haven’t been seen since.
“From the French coast they flew south to a coral atoll near Spain. I’d have drown if I didn’t find a sympathetic Spanish fisherman. In the middle of the night, they flew to Valencia and disappeared, so I alerted the nearest Spanish base. They didn’t attack at dawn, like I expected, and the Spanish still have not seen them when I left. I’m not even sure the Spanish still believe me.”
“Valencia?” This really bothered Maria. “That’s right in the middle of their coastal territory. They could fly out to sea, then surprise us anywhere along the front line, from the French border to the southern tip near Africa. Oh, and Valencia has their main bomb factory. How can we counter that?”
“But why didn’t they attack the Spanish near Valencia when they had surprise?” Billy asked.
Something worried Billy, so he crossed his legs and fell into a meditative state. Meditation helped reduce his “fever,” as he called it -- the excess energy that he needed to burn off through fighting or flying. Everyone talked about counter-tactics. Instead, Billy thought of his dad. He’d know what to do. He always did.
“Put yourself in their shoes,” papa would say. “What would you do in their place?”
Billy chuckled because, if he commanded the Mongols in Spain, he’d be pissed. Three centuries of victories convinced the Mongols of their own superiority. The only reason they had not yet finished the Spanish is that they concentrated on the French. They saw the Spanish as more of a nuisance than a challenge. I’d use these ten thousand marathoners to buy time, inflict crushing blows, and teach the damn Spanish a lesson they’d never forget. Yeah, punish them. Demonstrate Mongol superiority.
“Oh, crap!” Billy yelled before opening his eyes, unaware that a few hours had passed. He popped over the camp and called a meeting. “Prince, how long did the new Mongols fly to reach that islet?”
“Twelve really long hours.”
“Did they wear armor?”
“Of course not.”
It was simple physics: the less they carried, the farther they flew; the more they carried, the lower and slower.
“Maria, if they can fly twelve hours light, could they get to Madrid from Valencia carrying incendiaries, and still return to Mongolian lines?”
Everything became obvious to everyone. They cursed as one.
“It’s why they didn’t attack the Spanish near Valencia -- bombing Madrid requires a day to rest up. They flew so long from France to lose anyone tracking them.”
Maria’s face turned red in horror. “My family lives in the capital!”
“What are we gonna do?” Bear asked, ceding leadership.
“Bear, get the Americans on the Pyrenees. Maria, take your Spaniards and warn every military unit between Valencia and Madrid. It’s almost sunset. Weighed down by bombs, they probably can’t get to Madrid before midnight. Every company will fly separately so the slower companies don’t hold back the faster ones. If you can’t get to Madrid in time, then hit them on their way back. Any questions?”
“What are you gonna do, Red?”
Billy smiled at them. “I’m gonna ambush them!”