The Far Reaches Read Online Free PDF Page A

from someone higher in the chain of command. Translated to her world, a bishop had sent word to a priest through a monk. Sakuri yelled something; then he and all the troops in-side the fortress streamed through the twin apertures and disappeared outside. An unnatural quiet and calm inside the dark bunker was the immediate result.
    â€œThey are going outside to meet the Americans,” Nango said, in the dialect. “They seem confident.”
    â€œHowever they seem,” Sister Mary Kathleen answered, “ ‘tis good to be rid of them for the moment.”
    â€œMaybe they won’t come back,” Nango said hopefully. “Maybe the Americans will kill them.”
    â€œAye, there’s that,” she answered. “Perhaps we will fulfill our quest yet. But first the Americans must win. We must pray that they do.”
    â€œI have been praying to Juki,” the fella boy named Agoru said mischievously. “She is a fickle god, like all of them, but she at least knows what we need.”
    â€œJuki has no power here,” Nango snapped. “She is a god of the Far Reaches. But Sister’s god, he is here and everywhere. Pray to him, instead.”
    Agoru shook his head, making his cowrie shell necklace rattle. “Sister’s God is too big and is surely overwhelmed and confused by all the prayers coming at him. I am sorry, Sister. It is what I think. How can just one God control everything? He must have help.”
    â€œAye, He does,” she admitted. “He has His saints and His angels and of course His son, the Christ. You might also pray to the Virgin Mary, who is much like your Juki, except not fickle, of course.”
    â€œI wonder who the Japanese pray to?” Nango mused. “On Ruka, some of them had shrines, and there they burned incense. They said it was for their ancestors. I concluded they worshipped ghosts, who are the most un-reliable spirits of all. It is little wonder the Japanese are such odd creatures.”
    â€œI will not be happy until they are all dead,” Tomoru growled. “Every one of them, including their children.” He took a breath, then shrugged. “Sister, I talk too much at times.”
    â€œTalk is our only solace at this moment, Tomoru,” she answered quietly, “and prayer our only weapon. Let us all pray in whatever fashion suits us.”
    â€œYou pray to your little saint, Sister?” Nango asked.
    She smiled. “Aye. ‘Twas a sweet child, she was, to die upon baptism. A perfect spirit. She is with me always.”
    â€œPerhaps all children who die become saints,” Nango offered. “Perhaps so, Nango. Perhaps so.”
    She turned, startled, when Captain Sakuri came running back inside. He looked at her and the fella boys, then put his hands on his hips and threw back his head in a great shout of laughter. “Marine no come!” he screamed in an apparent mixture of joy and relief.
    But behind him suddenly came a flood of
rikusentai.
They pushedaround him and then crouched down and assumed their stoic expressions. Captain Sakuri looked at them in astonishment, then walked to an aperture and peered outside. Then he looked up, grimaced, and angrily made a fist and pounded a sandbag. Sullenly, he gave Sister Mary Kathleen a murderous glance, then touched the hilt of his sword. She had no doubt he meant to kill her. For a moment she felt grateful and even lifted her eyebrows at him as an enticement. But then she remembered all she had to do, and why
Saint Monessa,
she silently prayed.
Not yet, not yet.

4
    The sun baked the
J. Wesley Clayton,
the steel hatches and exterior bulkheads almost too hot to touch. The marines on the deck sought out what little shade there was, and some of them even went back inside, hoping to find a cooler place.
    A deep drone indicated the arrival of aircraft, and Josh looked up to see a formation of Dauntless and Avenger dive-bombers majestically soaring above the