Gandhi Kahn the Wise

[bassman]

Editor's Forward:
In the colleges of the Political Sciences, the memoirs of the "Emperor of all Emperors", Gandhi Kahn the Wise, are studied by undergraduates and analyzed minutely by graduate students, but, curiously, an abridged version for teenaged learners has never before been attempted.

This edition contains much of the framework and flavor of the actual memoirs, but sacrifices many details in favor of brevity. Furthermore, rather than presenting the subject using statistics and maps, the memoirs have been fictionalized to aid the young student's interest and enjoyment.

The entire sixteen-volume set is beyond all but the most advanced non-matriculated students. It is our hope to bring this inspiring subject to the inquisitive scholar and to whet the appetite for further study.


The Sino-Indian War

"For a regent bent on peaceful co-existence, I've had to resort to a lot of violence. Perhaps in some alternate universe, the name Gandhi evokes thoughts of peace, and the name Genghis doesn't bring to mind the non-violent liberation of the Mongols from the Chinese empire. Of course, if you read that sort of claptrap, then the evil alternate Genghis would have the requisite goatee instead of his smooth shaven face. Don't know why they always use the goatee to signify evilness. I've always rather liked mine."
Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, Chronicles of Gandhi Kahn the Wise

The council meeting was going about as I had expected.

The schedule for the annual Celebration of Empire had been approved. The budget compromise had been passed, although my Science Advisor, Siddheiers, still wanted more for research, and Domestic Advisor Dhanyata thought more money for luxuries was the path to a better empire.

The only item remaining on the agenda was finding a solution to the Chinese-Egyptian problem. Nehru, my Foreign Advisor, was holding out for a diplomatic solution. Of course, I enjoy absolute power, and could order the assault without the consent of any of my advisors, but I have always found it better to seek accord before action. I believe that internal agreement prevents insurgent conflict.

"Nehru," I argued, "can't you see that diplomacy will not work in this situation? We don't have enough clout with Cleopatra to convince her to call off her chariots."

He frowned. "Sire, the Sino-Indian war ended when we promised Mao we would cease hostilities. If we break our word, no other civilization will believe us when we claim to come in peace."

Devon, my Military Advisor, jumped in before I could. "If Cleo beats us to Beijing, we will have no access to our new cities. We can rebuild our 'reputation,' but it will cost Indian blood to retake those cities."

"I'm afraid I must concur, Nehru," said Sangita, my Cultural Advisor. "My departmental analysis shows that Shanghai and Nanking will become Egyptian within two generations of an Egyptian conquest of Beijing, either through armed conflict or revolt."

"You don't have my support, either, old boy," said Trade Advisor, Rujula. "If we lose Nanking, we lose its silk farms, and we'll have to start paying Cleo for that luxury. The budget is already too tight in the luxury department."

"Rujula, you needlessly deplete your karma," I said. "In a good compromise, everyone's a little unhappy. If you complain again, I may have to recommend a reanalysis and a vote on a new budget, which, I assure you, would make you much unhappier!"

Rujula's grimace was thoroughly rewarding.

"Nehru," I said, returning to the debate, "we went through all this at the beginning of the war. That little baby-faced boy-king may look innocent, but remember how they plunked down all their new cities on our border."

Nehru puffed up into his academician pose, having indeed been one prior to selection to my cabinet. "And as I pointed out then, they did so because they were hemmed in by the Egyptians to the east, by the Western Ocean, and by the glory of India in the south."

"And as *I* pointed out then, we merely joined in the reduction of China after the Egyptians and Japanese had already declared war. We'd all had enough of his bluster: 'Just you wait 'til we get our Riders trained! You'll all be absorbed into the Chinese Empire. We will bury you!' Whine, whine, whine!"

"What about public opinion?" asked Nehru, searching for a better argument. "People won't be so happy about renewing the war when the casualty lists start getting longer and longer."

"Are you kidding me?" shouted Devon, "Our swordsmen barely broke a sweat taking Canton and Tsingtao. When they massed around Beijing, Mao practically wet his pants."

"Devon is right," I said, covering the contradiction to his early argument about spilling Indian blood. "The Chinese were so eager to avoid the carnage they would have signed anything! For Shiva's sake, you were the one with the brilliant idea to demand Shanghai and Nanking in the negotiations! Do you want to lose them now because you have qualms about our reputation?

"Either we get the city or Cleo does," said Dhanyata.

Suddenly, I saw the solution. "Nehru, if we declare war, exactly which nations will view our reputation as damaged?"

"Egypt, Japan and Russia," he replied.

I could see in his eyes a building hope that he was swaying the monarch. I paused for effect before I shoved the knife home.

"Wouldn't our reputation with Egypt and Japan actually be increased if we join in their crusade against China?"

Nehru looked stunned, then grinned. "You are right, of course. I hereby change my vote."

"Very well. Devon, pass the order."

Devon placed his palms together and raised them to touch the forehead, the position of the Third Eye. "As you command, O Mahatma. Namaskar."

[Ed. Namaskar, the popular term of greeting and farewell, literally means 'I bow to thee.']

More tomorrow...

[Kingof the Apes]

Very nice, cant wait for some fighting!


war elephants are so cool....

[ChrisiusMaximus]

A rather interesting start,I will keep a look out for the next part.

[bassman]

This story was written as excerpts from Gandhi's Memoirs, but I bow to the will of the rabble - well, two people who bothered to comment. More bloodshed it is!

From the Big Book of Indian War Stories, Volume Two

Beijing
Mahavir peered through the gloom of fog that transfixed the countryside around Beijing. Marching in the fog was surreal, since normal sounds were muffled. The clanks, creaks, groans, grunts, curses, and cadences that normally accompanied the march were all but inaudible.

Mahavir hoped that since he could barely hear the noises, the Egyptians wouldn't at all. Somewhere out there, Cleopatra's chariot forces waited for the fog to lift so they could make the final assault on the city, if indeed they hadn't taken it already. Mahavir's battalion of swordsmen, along with three others, had marched hard all night from Hangchow to beat the Egyptians to the city. The orders were clear - take the Chinese capitol first, or be continue on for garrison duty in far Nanking to subdue insurrection. The gossip in his company was that putting down revolts in Nanking would be an endless and hazardous duty.

As they crested the rolling hill, the battalion commander called for a halt. After a short conference with two returning scouts, he gathered the swordsmen. He spoke in a normal tone, but Mahavir had to strain to hear him through the voiceless fog.

"Men, Beijing is less than 300 hasta north of here. The Egyptians have arrived at the Western Gate, but they are camped, waiting for the fog to lift. We have - well, let's just say we've 'secured' a quick entry into the city and leave it at that."

"Form into battle ranks and double-time it to the city. Keep your swords sheathed until we enter the city, and bind the sheaths with cloth to muffle the noise even more. Beijing will be ours!"

Like his mates, Mahavir brought the back hem of his sari forward between his knees and up, binding it into his girdle and making sure the hilt of his sword remain unencumbered by the folds. As he loped with his squad over the crest of the hill, he saw the road widen as it prepared to enter Beijing. He was more than a little afraid of this mission because of the stories he had heard of Beijing's sturdy walls, walls that the fog still prevented him from seeing.

In an impossibly short time, they slowed and halted, each man hand signaling the command to the row behind. Even though his squad was near the front, he could barely make out the first squads entering through the southeastern water gate. Hope rose in his heart -- perhaps this plan would work after all.

Just before he entered the gate, he heard the alarm sound from within. He burst through the opening with dagger in hand and unsheathed his sword. Just ahead, a Chinese guard struggled to put his spear from a swordsman who would no longer rise. Mahavir sliced down with the sword, severing the spearman's arms, and then thrust home the point of the blade. Even as the hapless guard fell, Mahavir was pulling the sword free and pushing into the compound to make room for those behind him.

He burst through the thin, hastily assembled line of spearmen and fell on the nearest archer. The poor man was only half-dressed, but he drew back the bow with deadly earnest. Mahavir sliced at the hand holding the bow, then thrust under it on the backstroke. The arrow careened wildly into the air as the bowman fell, but Mahavir was already on to the next.

Less than twenty minutes later, he was breathing hard, bloodied, but alive, without an enemy in sight. Horns began sounding from outside the Western Gate.

"Mahavir, Prajeet, Narhari," called the commander, "get up on the wall and drape the battalion banner and our national flag over the gate. We don't want to fight the Egyptians - " and he grinned, "yet."

Mahavir scrambled to obey. As the banner unfurled, he looked out from the heights and had a commanding view as the fog continued it's late morning dissipation. He heard the angry shouts of the Egyptian soldiers as they caught sight of the banner.

"Do they persist?" called the commander.

"No, Dhirendra," yelled Mahavir, "their horses paw the ground but the charioteers hold."

A cheer rose from the men.

"Well, done," called the commander. "Post the guard and dispatch a runner to Delhi. Beijing is ours!"

More tomorrow...

[bassman]

My sincere apologies for the grammatical errors. I'm doing this hastily, on-the-fly, rather than from my carefully prepared story.

[Kingof the Apes]

I like it!

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Cracking please continue.

[bassman]

From "Mukashi-Banashi: Japanese Tales of Yore"

The Tao of Xiao
The train of settlers was a short one, which made guard duty easy for the light company of spearmen marching with them. Somewhere in the train was Mao, dressed as a woman -- for 'security,' he said.

The jungles near Osaka were renown for the beasts that roamed them, biped even more so than quadruped. But that was the least of their worries. With three of the four armies of the continent chasing them, there was only a slim chance of carrying on the short, but noble tradition of the Chinese people.

Their hope was to reach unsettled territory near the Russians - neutral for now - and hold out for a negotiated peace. Mao had carefully explained to them the strategy of letting Egypt and India collide. With China out from the middle ground, he argued, Cleopatra and Gandhi would soon be at each other's throats, with tiny China all but forgotten. Tiny, but alive!

Xiao Zhi Kai took little consolation from the hope that China would live. Regardless, his low station in life would remain on the bottom rung. Workers rated last on the social scale in this world, and he was a worker for a civilization rated last on the global scale. How low did that make him? He didn't pause long to contemplate the thought. Thinking was for the rich and learned, not for workers.

The expeditionary force had veered deeper into the jungle after sighting a similar Indian force moving south along the inviting plains. After three weeks of slashing through dense jungle in search of a good place for building a city, Xiao Zhi didn't know which hurt more - his legs, his back or his arms.

He stumbled as the jungle vegetation gave way to a modest clearing. The settlers gathered, pronounced the place habitable, and began planting the poles that would form the center of their first crude shelters. Xiao Zhi dropped to the ground exhausted. Tomorrow would mean more slashing at the jungle to clear land for farming, but for now, he could rest.

A shout went up from the guards. "Swordsmen! Alarm!"

The spearmen formed a rough cordon around the settlers, still struggling with their poles. Xiao Zhi called to one of them. "What is it? Bandits?"

"Worse," shouted the soldier. "Japanese!"

Xiao Zhi had huddled among the settlers with the other workers, but he suddenly squared his shoulders, squeezed the haft of his long, heavy brush knife, and ran to the line of spearmen. To a quizzical look, he called, "better to die a warrior than a worker."

The Japanese swordsmen surged into the clearing and fell on the confused Chinese. Soldiers, women, children - all fell under the withering swarm of steel. Xiao Zhi desperately swung his knife right and left, fending off an attack to this side, slicing on that, his arms like lead. In a remote part of his brain, it registered that he was bleeding from many cuts, but he kept on swinging.

Abruptly, the fighting ended. Xiao Zhi glared at the swordsmen who surrounded him, daring them to approach and end his pain.

"Finish it!" he yelled. "Finish it."

A worker may not be smart, but he must be strong. His attacks, though untrained, had held off the Japanese until their wrath was spent. The budding village was destroyed, its defenders draining their blood on the jungle floor.

A large Japanese soldier, obviously the leader, pushed through the ranks of swordsmen. In broken Chinese, he said, "You fight well. You are brave and honorable. You join us."

Xiao Zhi stared for a moment, then shrugged. "Why not," he said, "work is work."

Screams caught the attention of the swordsmen and the leader. Some Chinese women had survived. It was clear what would become of them.

Suddenly, one of the women burst from the grasp of her captor. He grabbed for her hair, but the hair - the wig - came loose in his fist.

Another swordsman tackled the disguised woman. The Japanese leader strode to the scene, planted his boot on the captive's chest and rubbed off the heavy makeup. "Mao!" he spat.

"This man is dishonorable," he pronounced. He pointed at Xiao Zhi. "This man is honorable."

He motioned for Xiao Zhi, and waited for his approach.

"Honor can dispel dishonor. You kill Mao."

Mao was haughty, in spite of the situation. "He is a loyal Chinese. He will never obey you."

Xiao Zhi looked at him with sad eyes. "I am a worker," he said, "and work is work."

One last time for the day, his arms and back ached under their labor.

Tomorrow: Bangalore...

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Will Xiao Zhi become a samurai,who knows.
This is very good especially this last part a sort of side note on the attempted escape of the emporer very entertaining.

[vovan]

Interesting. Please go on

[bassman]

From the Big Book of Indian War Stories, Volume Three

Bangalore
From the moment the Egyptian force had become visible on the horizon, tension in Bangalore had grown. At one time or another, every citizen had appeared at the city's edge to watch the slow progress of the foreigners. Indeed, landlords of taller residences on the fringe were charging for the novelty of viewing the strange travelers from a safe location.

Government officials continued to repeat claims that the Egyptians were only passing through the territory. While it was true that the city lay very near the direct line to Egypt's southern cities, town gossips were weaving horrifying and convincing tales that Bangalore was their goal, not Busiris.

Now that the Egyptians were at their closest approach to the city, the uneasiness within the city had become a living, breathing mania that gripped every citizen, young and old. Without discussion or decree, nearly the entire city had assembled in the town square. To watch a battle, to help in defense, to seek reassurance - who knew why?

Vasu, the mayor of Bangalore, had finally been compelled to speak to the assembly. He appeared on the terrace of the governmental hall and raised his arms to quiet the crowd.

"Citizens, we have no need to worry. Even now, I have received word from Delhi. Our great Mahatma has demanded that Cleopatra remove her forces from our land. They will soon be gone. You can return to your jobs. This idleness does no good and only disturbs your inner balance."

"The Egyptians disturb my balance," called a heckler, "not the idleness."

"Regardless, we must continue our work to make Bangalore a great city. It is possible to work the fields on the FAR side of the city, is it not?"

"That's easy to say from behind a wall," called another skeptic. "Can you say it from the fields outside the city?"

"Wall or not, inside or outside, there is no threat. The Egyptians are merely passing - ghurck!"

Vasu collapsed on the terrace, the arrow through his throat clearly visible. More arrows rained on the crowd, though few found their mark as effectively as the first.

"To the defense!" yelled the garrison commander.

The small force of spearmen and swordsmen scrambled to set up a defensive line at the edge of town. There were no archers to answer the Egyptian attack, since none had been stationed in this lonely outpost.

The Egyptian archers remained in the rear, arching arrows into the town while the main force, several company of spearmen, drove into the city approaches. The first wave smashed against the disorganized ranks of the garrison. The veterans staggered, but held. Swordsmen dispatched the few Egyptian soldiers that pushed through the ragged line of spearmen.

The second wave smashed against the defense line, now bolstered by citizens with pitchforks and scythes. Many had rudimentary shields made from crating sides. From nearby rooftops, other civilians were flinging rocks from slings, as well as crude javelins, at the Egyptian archers. Some of the wounded archers began falling back, and then the entire company fell into retreat.

The third wave of Egyptian spearmen clashed with the defenders. Many slipped on the blood or the bodies of their fallen comrades. As they lost their balance, most also lost their lives to the angry mob. Citizens, soldiers - the distinction was lost in the melee.

As suddenly as they had begun, the Egyptians broke off and began to retreat. They continued heading south, towards Busiris, but their number was far fewer.

With the mayor dead or dying, the citizens turned to the garrison commander. "Care for the wounded!" he commanded. "Soldiers, attack!"

Within half an hour, the Egyptians had been vanquished. Their weapons were collected and distributed to the citizenry.

Within half a day, the garrison commander had been appointed mayor. Word was sent to Delhi.

Within half a week, the dead had been buried. Several citizens joined the army.

Within half a year, Bangalore had been acclaimed 'City of the Realm.' Tourism became the second highest grossing business in the city, with the sale of war souvenirs a close third. Many of the souvenirs never saw action in the short battle. Some had not even been in existence before the war, and a few were not even manufactured within the city.

Certain citizens, scallywags some said, commissioned a commemorative plaque that was placed on the square. It became part of the charm of the city and later efforts to remove it were abandoned following sustained public outcries. It remains there to this day. The inscription reads: "In this city, Egyptian invaders traded their journey to a different city for one to a different world."

Tomorrow: Lisht...

[bassman]

It has been pointed out to me that some readers could take offense at the description of Mao as a coward hiding under women's garb. It was not my intention to defame any real person, living or dead, merely to illustrate the game's ability to consider a city-less civilization alive so long as one settler survives. In the actual game, this caused war-weariness in my Indian citizens until the Chinese settler plunked down his tent pole and the Japanese wiped out the new city.

On with the story...

From the Big Book of Indian War Stories, Volume Three

Lisht
Mahavir was glad to leave the mountains at last. Even though, on a map, the march had been short, it had required much climbing. He understood the advantage of having the protection of the heights during the sporadic Egyptian assaults, but his legs still ached.

The few chariots that had bothered to attack had been easily defeated. In spite of the terror created by their appearance, they were surprisingly weak. Perhaps having to attack up a steep incline, instead of on the flat battlefields for which they were suited, had blunted their abilities.

Fortunately, the army commanders had planned well. The force approaching Lisht had remained in the mountains or foothills all the way from the border. They would be attacking directly from the foothills into Lisht. Furthermore, their route had taken them through Egypt's only iron mine, which they had destroyed. Without the "metal of war", the Asp-Kissers would be limited to bronze weapons, arrows, and chariots.

The city lay below them, dully golden in the late afternoon sunlight. The walls remained half-finished, and no one worked them now. Every Egyptian in the vicinity had fled for the protection of the city, since the approach of the Indians had been no secret.

For several long moments, the future battlefield was calm. No noise came from the glowing city, and the attacking forces prepared for battle in silent prayer or meditation. Even the insects were respectfully quiet.

Finally, the order was raised. "Attack!"

Mahavir screamed as he rose and ran towards the city. His voice joined with hundreds of others as the band raced towards the half-walls and the outermost houses. The wind mingled with the warrior chorus to roar in his ears, whipping his war lust to a high pitch. His legs had ached before; now he felt as if he could run forever. He sensed, rather than saw, a swordsman to his left fall under an unlucky arrow strike. The distance to the wall narrowed quickly, and then he was there. In a swift movement, he was over the unfinished wall and fell upon the first archer he saw.

"Damned archer!" he yelled, slashing at the Egyptian. "Fight like a man!"

His sword sliced through the bowstring on the way to the soldier's gut. The weight of the collapsing man pulled the body free of the sword, and Mahavir pulled it up and out to strike the next archer. His victim turned to meet the attack and let the arrow fly too soon. An Egyptian spearman took the bolt through the shoulder and dropped his spear with a clatter.

Mahavir thrust the sword home to dispatch the second archer, then pulled him close while he worked loose his sword. Mahavir was startled as an ugly arrowhead halted inches from him, pierced through the dead archer. He kicked free his human shield and advanced on the next target.

Another arrow hissed past his ear and down into the ground as he sprinted towards a spearman. Mahavir didn't bother with a deathblow, racing by the spearman and hacking off one of his hands. Arrows continued to follow his dash past the building as he worked to disable the defenders, trusting those soldiers following to finish the job.

After numerous bolts had narrowly missed him, allowing him to maim several defenders, his nemesis finally adjusted aim enough to put a shaft neatly through Mahavir left shoulder. The force knocked Mahavir to the ground, where he scrambled into the shadow of the building to escape a finishing strike.

Rolling as much of his back as possible to the wall for protection, he peered back at the carnage. His fellow swordsmen were completing the route of the city. From the building opposite, he saw an Egyptian body fall, a quiver full of arrows cascading around the body. In the window was Prajeet, grinning and waving. Mahavir waved back with his sword arm, then sighed and leaned back against the sun-warmed building. The medics were coming. For this battle, at least, his war was over.

Tomorrow: Revolt!

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Excellent,I like the way you have limited each part to one event in the story,although still very good stories some of the writers on this forum tend to try and write about several concurrent events at the same time which can sometimes get a little confusing.This style of clear and seperate scenes makes the reading easier and more enjoyable,Bravo keep up the good work.

[bassman]

Thanks, Chrisius Maximus. Looks as if I have enough battles to last the rest of the month.

From the Big Book of Indian War Stories, Volume Three

Revolt!
The Indian garrison in Lisht had been growing steadily smaller over the past few months. The square was now often clear of Indian soldiers for long stretches of time. No doubt the ones leaving were on their way to another conquest. The rumormongers whispered that Giza would be next to fall, and then what was to stop Gandhi's evil death-dealers from marching all the way to Thebes?

Adofo had listened to the whispers, and discussed the consequences with his friends. He had carefully observed the decreasing military presence, even as Indian citizens appeared in the city to skim off its wealth. He had felt the ugly mood of the Egyptian workers and citizens.

He had quietly observed, carefully planned, and cautiously recruited. Now it was time for action.

He received the high sign from his accomplices strategically planted at the approaches to the square, then jumped up onto a low balcony.

"Men of Lisht, listen to me!"

"Why do we submit to the Indian yoke? Are you happy kissing their sandals? Are you content to embrace their gods? Do you want your sons raised as Indians? When they defile your daughters, will you allow them marriage and welcome them at your table?"

The curious started to gather, although warily, with an eye out for the Indian spearmen.

"You have seen how lazy the Indians are compared to us. Even the lowliest worker among us does twice the work of an Indian! Do you want to become their servants and to let them live off of our toil?"

The knot of onlookers had grown to a respectable group. Some were shaking their heads.

"We are people of industry, but the Indians care nothing for that. They reward commerce. Their treasuries will be enriched by your labor. They will grow fat while we grow tired and weary. Do you want to be their slaves?"

The knot had grown to a cluster, and more were approaching. The Indians remained obligingly absent.

"When they took the city, they destroyed our temples. They claim that Ra and Isis are merely avatars," he said, sneering, "a face of their own many-armed gods. Are your gods a simple appendage of some Indian god?"

"No!" yelled a man at the front of the growing throng. Adofo had carefully rehearsed with Nakhti where that first 'no' was to be shouted.

"The Indians say they are religious - like us - and that they build temples - like us - but their gods are not our gods. Do you want your children raised to worship false gods, to turn up their noses and laugh at the faith held by you, and your fathers, and your fathers' fathers?"

"No!" yelled most of the crowd, for it was now a crowd, and an agitated one. Nakhti had done his work well.

"And they are not content to merely taint our children, to subvert our religion, to grow fat off of our toil. They prohibit the manufacture of a substance necessary to our religious practices. They ban the distribution of a staple used by every Egyptian laborer to relax after a hard day's work. They make it a crime for the common man to possess even half a hin of this essential substance. They deny us beer!"

"Beer!" roared the mob, and the blast of sound rocked the walls of the square. Adofo felt the balcony shake beneath his feet. He looked out over the throng that overflowed the sides and corners of the square. They were with him now. He reveled in the power of the moment, then continued.

"In the city's warehouses are vats of beer," he said, "our beer. It will go to rich men in the Indian Empire, to wet their throats and not ours. But in this city, there is also an armory full of weapons, taken from us during the Indian conquest. They held our power in contempt then, and think still less of us now. Even today, more Indian soldiers departed the city in search of further conquest."

"They do not fear us, but I say they should, for we are strong. I say, let us repossess what is ours! Let us redeem our sons, our wives, and our daughters! Let us regain our religion! Let us resume our rightful place in the Egyptian Empire! Let us take back our beer!"

"To the armory," shouted Nakhti, and the call was taken up by a hundred tongues.

In the northwest corner of the square, he caught sight of Sefu signaling. The Indians had caught on at last, but it was too late. The horde of angry Egyptians was surging towards the Armory. Even without weapons, the multitude would be far too much for the few remaining Indian spearmen.

Adofo grinned at Sefu and then gazed thoughtfully southwest towards Beijing. If men without weapons could take a city, he wondered, what could men with iron weapons do?

Tomorrow: Aftermath...

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Ah and now you show us how to administer the good old "To Be Continued"trick,very good I,ll be back for more as soon! as you write it.

[bassman]

From the Big Book of Indian War Stories, Volume Three

[B] Aftermath [lB]
Every shooting pain made Mahavir angrier. Damn the Generals! Why hadn't they left a bigger force garrisoned in Lisht?

The battalion medics had claimed that his shoulder would heal with time, and, at any rate, they said, the wound would not prevent his marching. That had proved true while they were on the wide, even road to Giza, but the soldiers had spent the last weeks returning to Lisht, marching again in the mountains. Every second or third step, his shoulder had reminded him that it was unhappy. Now it throbbed full time.

Mahavir knew he wasn't the only soldier angry. They had all heard about the spoils being enjoyed by the battalions that had taken Alexandria, and had anticipated the gains to be made in taking Giza. Lisht was a backwater town, albeit an important one because of the iron deposits in the foothills, and had already been taken once. There wouldn't be much to gain for the soldiers, but there was much to lose. Mahavir tried to remind himself that the spoils of Alexandria were only being enjoyed by those that survived, for that city had been almost three times the size of Lisht, and had enjoyed sturdy city walls and a substantial garrison. Some of his contemporaries had not left the battlefields outside Alexandria.

For that matter, retaking Lisht might not be as easy as the last time, in spite of the reduced city size. The scuttlebutt in the ranks was that the Egyptians had developed pikemen now that they again had access to iron. From his experience with Indian pikemen during training, he knew they were much harder to defeat than mere spearmen. No one in his battalion was eager to resume the battle at Lisht.

The generals were wary, too. Rather than plunge directly into Lisht upon arrival, as they had previously, they had ordered the battalions to bivouac for the night.

The order for the assault rose with the dawn.

Once again, Mahavir raced for the half-finished walls, although much slower than his first time into Lisht. The insistent pain in his shoulder kept his running to about three-quarter-speed. Almost all of his company quickly pulled well ahead of him.

Suddenly, the ache in his shoulder was forgotten, replaced by one more extreme in his hip. He looked in astonishment at the shaft that centered a blossoming red pool on his right side.

"Skanda damn all archers to Nerg," he yelled, as he fell.

Then all was black.

-----------------------------------

He awoke to the sound of many groans and curses. A ceiling was over him, dimly lit by candlelight. Prajeet's head suddenly hovered into view over him.

"Welcome back to the living," said Prajeet, "or at least, to the land of the wounded."

"How long..." he said, trying to rise, but falling back with a groan.

"Several hours," said Prajeet. "It was a tough fight."

"We won?" asked Mahavir.

"Yes, but there are many who will never fight again."

"Damned archers"

Prajeet grinned. "Their aim is good when their target is slow."

"Or my luck just ran out," chuckled Mahavir.

"Your luck holds," said Prajeet. "You live. And more, the medic say you'll never march again with that hole in your hip."

"Well, that's something."

After a pause, Mahavir asked, "Narhari?"

"Alive. Battalion commander Dhirendra is dead, though.

"Damn!"

"The rumors were right. They had pikemen. Their pikes were two riyans long and they packed in shoulder to shoulder. We finally won out by attacking with two swords each - one to chop at the pike, and another to battle the pikemen and their close-combat axes. Even then, it cost a third our number to defeat them."

"But rest now, " continued Prajeet. "We will be garrisoned here for a while. The generals have learned they cannot just conquer and move on. After you recover, you'll have to find a new profession. You'll never again be quick enough to wield a sword." He laughed. "Perhaps you will become an archer."

But his teasing was in vain, for Mahavir was already asleep.

Tomorrow: More Gandhi memoirs - negotiations...

[bassman]

Gandhi Memoirs - Negotiations

"I feel my reputation as a conqueror is exaggerated by historians. Over the ages, all I desired was room for my India to grow. Others civilizations just kept getting in the way."
Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, Chronicles of Gandhi Kahn the Wise

The unannounced appearance of the Egyptian peace negotiators at my war palace had been a surprise to everyone but me. I knew it was only a matter of time before Cleo came crawling. No empire can survive while hemorrhaging cities at such a heavy rate.

The negotiators were much more submissive than they had been during the last peace talks. While their low opinion of our culture led to a pompous, overbearing attitude, our continuing success at war had deflated much of their arrogance.

The chief Egyptian negotiator was a particularly oily sort of man. I appreciated the bald look of the Egyptians, but their attempt to cover their pates with braided hair was simply absurd. Part of the 'high culture' I keep hearing about, I suppose. He practically drooled on his robe, trying to keep his head bowed while making Egypt's offer.

"Our great leader, Cleopatra, has authorized us to offer peace at any price."

"Look," I explained patiently, "this entire war has been your idea. We had barely eliminated the Chinese threat when your precious Cleopatra started parading her troops on the border in those ridiculous war chariots. We didn't push you into war, we sure didn't force the continuation of the war, but by the many arms of Vishnu, we intend to finish it."

"Egypt did not desire war, either. We were merely transferring troops to Busiris, Athribis, and Avaris."

"You know," I said, feigning concentration, "in looking back, we were bound for war, cuddling up around your borders on the west and south like that. You had nowhere else to go but through us. I suppose Cleo wanted a corridor to connect Egypt on our north side to your three cities to our south."

"Exactly!"

"Declaring war on India wasn't a smart way to go about it, though," I growled.

"It was just a transfer."

"So you claimed, but there were plenty of alternatives to pushing the troops through our sovereign territory unannounced," I said, ticking off the points on my fingers. "You could have requested a Right of Passage. No request was made. You could have shipped the troops by sea. You made no effort. You could have complied when we requested removal of your troops. Instead, the so-called 'transfer' troops had all the equipment necessary to immediately lay siege to Bangalore. Only one response was possible."

"Regardless of who started the war, we wish now to end it.

"You didn't feel that way during our first attempt at negotiations. Cleo refused to treat with my envoys."

"Egyptian hopes were buoyed by seeing Lisht and Alexandria change hands several times," he replied.

"Even after we took Lisht, and Alexandria for the final time, and Busiris, Avaris, and Hierconpolis, when Cleo finally cried for peace, she refused to grant any concessions. She even convinced the Japanese to join the war against us."

"Yes, yes, we know all that! Now that you have taken Thebes and so many other cities, we beg for peace and offer any concession you ask."

"Any?" I said, seeing the opening I wanted.

"Yes, any."

"Then I require justice over Egypt's main war criminal. I demand Cleopatra's death."

One of the Egyptian attendants gasped.

I continued. "You can behead her, drown her, poison her - entomb her alive for all I care, but she must be dead before I agree to terms."

The chief negotiator sputtered, "That is not a concession. That is an impossibility!"

"You are in a poor position to refuse. Our new war elephants are an awesome sight, and nothing you can put up for defense will hold against them. How many Egyptian cities must become Indian before you give in?"

"We offer you more cities, without the shedding of Indian blood. We offer money from our treasury, as much as you require. We offer any technological research we may have recently completed, or may discover in the future. But to betray Cleopatra would be to betray our own selves. We cannot give you that."

"You do not understand my problem," I said, signaling for the guards. "You offer concessions too late in the war. Your Egyptian civilization enjoys a great advantage over India in cultural achievements. This creates envy and encourages revolt since so many of India's newly acquired Egyptian cities are as large as my greatest city, Delhi, the First City of India. Therefore, I have only one chance of preventing the citizens of your former cities from hoping for a return to the Egyptian Empire. I must eliminate that empire."

As the protesting Egyptians were dragged out, I turned to Devon for a private conversation.

"Where is Cleo now?"

"My intelligence operatives believe she is in a frozen northern hamlet called Asyut. There is no Egyptian town farther from the front."

"Make sure Cleo is eliminated and that her predictions of future glory die with her."

"It shall be done as you command." He grinned, "Bet Miss Cleo's soothsayers weren't able to see the future on that!"

"You, my military friend, have a wicked sense of humor."

He turned to go, but I stopped him. "I don't want a repeat of the Chinese incident," I muttered.

"That came to nothing," replied Devon, coloring slightly, as he was forever embarrassed by his previous lack of foresight. "Yes, Mao escaped with a settler and a single squad of spearmen, but the subsequent city was obliterated by Japanese troops so quickly I don't think it ever had a name."

"Even so," I said, "public opinion fell while we sought a quick end to the war. Chinese hopes remained high while that colonization force existed. If extermination had been completed earlier, we would have been even better prepared for Egypt. No Egyptians may be allowed to escape. Either they become Indian or they die."

"As you command, O Mahatma. Namaskar."

Tomorrow: back to the war stories - Asuyt...

[ChrisiusMaximus]

That last chapter was brilliant,I'll nominate this for the contest when you finish or sooner if you like.

[bassman]

Thanks for the praise, Chrisius Maximus. I would love to be nominated, but let's wait for the end of the story.

So far, the Indians have only faced down the Chinese and Egyptians. There are still the Japanese, Persians and Russians to go. Plus, War Elephants!

[bassman]

From the Big Book of Indian War Stories, Volume Three

Asuyt

Vidyacharan hated this duty. This was not the reason he'd joined the Indian Army.

Being posted in the frozen northland was bad enough, but his father's tales of army life had prepared him for that possibility. What he hadn't expected was being assigned to search scared, hungry refugees for contraband. Most were afraid and nervous, having from childhood been stuffed with exaggerated stories of Indian atrocities. Some were belligerent over the delay. A few were downright dangerous.

Manning the checkpoint was a difficult and hazardous job. Difficult, because honest citizens were justifiably exasperated when their business was held up in a fruitless examination of their goods. Hazardous, because sometimes the refugees were actually members of the extensive network of Egyptian guerilla forces that shared weapons and information, and who continually fomented revolt in former Egyptian cities. Vidyacharan wasn't sure which was harder, quashing the rebellions in the cities or catching the saboteurs between them.

Any border guard had to be equal parts counselor, diplomat, counter-terrorism expert and self-entertainer, to deal with the frightened refugees, exasperated businessmen, determined terrorists, and extreme boredom that constituted the job.

Boredom was not a problem today. The backup leaving Asuyt already reached well over fifty people, with more approaching. Vidyacharan guessed that the dice game would not resume until late in the afternoon, which was unfortunate, since he had already collected a pile of sungas from last night's gaming.

He was experiencing a dilemma over the current detainee. This Egyptian would be especially hard to process. Examining all twenty-seven rolls of carpet in the cart could take well over an hour, delaying those behind. The sooner he could get the dealer processed, and those behind him, the sooner he could return to fleecing the other border guards, at least, while his luck held. The rug dealer was urging him to just wave through the cart after a quick examination.

On the other hand, the carpets were the ideal length to hide the long-handled pikes now being used by the Egyptians. His Captain would have his head if any of the new weapons were found to have come through his checkpoint. Moreover, some of his friends had been wounded or killed by Egyptian pikemen. He didn't want any more of the deadly weapons to get through the cordon.

Discipline and professional pride won out over expediency and avarice. "Sorry, folks," he said, turning to the long line, "we'll have to go through them all."

The crowd groaned as he motioned for the first rug to be pulled off the stack in the dealer's cart. Each one would be unrolled in its turn for examination.

"Look out!" shouted Yashwant.

Vidyacharan turned towards the warning, which saved his life. The rug dealer's dagger entered the lacing joint of his leather body armor at an angle that blunted the thrust. The tip sliced into his skin, but his turn prevented it from digging in deeply enough to penetrate a vital organ.

Vidyacharan continued to turn, bringing his left elbow quickly up and back to hit the assassin in the head, his other hand grasping for the hilt of his sword. Still turning, he pulled the sword free of its scabbard, reversed the arc of the blade, and sliced deep into the rug dealer's upper arm. As the Egyptian howled in pain, Vidyacharan dragged the blade back towards him, then thrust it deep into the Egyptian's ample gut. The man mustered the strength to spit at Vidyacharan before he collapsed to his knees and then his face.

Vidyacharan turned back to his comrades to find them dispatching several other ersatz 'merchants.' One had gotten the better of Gopan and was attempting to mount the rug-dealer's cart. Vidyacharan sliced a head blow at the Egyptian, at the same time grabbing for the horse's bridle with his free hand. The Egyptian ducked the blow, but could not fend off the backstroke, which knocked him from the cart. As soon as he hit the ground, Yashwant was there to skewer him with a spear.

The battle was quickly over, and only a few of the refugees remained, the others having melted into the scenery, perhaps fearing Indian retaliation. Vidyacharan caught his breath, then called to his comrades, "Let's find out what they were hiding."

The twentieth rug off the cart was heavier than the rest and unrolled to reveal not a cache of contraband weapons, but a very attractive Egyptian woman.

A gasp from the few remaining Egyptians told Vidyacharan all he needed to know.

"Get those people out of here!" he yelled to the other soldiers.

As the spectators were being shooed away, he helped the woman to rise and escorted her to the guard quarters. He found it difficult to watch his step, because his eyes continually strayed to the shapely body next to him, barely concealed and sometimes tantalizingly revealed by her diaphanous costume.

Vidyacharan was sad that the duty had fallen to him, but the orders were clear: if found, Cleopatra was to be beheaded. He was saved from the dirty business when she collapsed after 40 steps. The deadly asp slithered away from the body, leaving him to wonder where she had concealed it.

After a few moments contemplation, he decided to roll up the body in the carpet that had transported the late queen. As he worked, he suddenly realized that the death of the Egyptian queen would mean the end of her Empire, and the collapse of the insurgent network. That would spell the end of his guard duty here in the frozen northland and a change in assignment.

"I'd better start learning Japanese," he muttered.

Tomorrow: Osaka...

[bassman]

Please accept my sincere apologies for not meeting the deadline for today's episode. Personal matters have interrupted my research of elephant warfare. With a bit of luck, tomorrow I will be able to post a somewhat accurate and hopefully exciting account of the assault on Osaka, as India continues to aggressively defend itself against continental rivals.

[dnassman]

I have to congratulate you on a great story bassman. I read it in one attempt and it was excellent. Hope you keep going.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Here here one of the best Ive read!

[bassman]

Thanks. Hope today's episode was worth the wait.

[bassman]

From the Big Book of Indian War Stories, Volume Three

Osaka

Although he would never admit it to a living soul, Mahavir was almost - almost - thankful to the Egyptian archer that had nailed him in the hip. Archers were still high on his 'disgust' list, but marching had been there also.

When he had been a swordsman, marching had been a tedious means of getting to the end - fighting. Marching on roads or over level terrain had been strenuous, at best. Marching in the mountains had been exhausting. He had heard tales of marching in the cold and snow of the northlands, of how the snow clutched at your feet and the icy wind tugged the breath out of your mouth. He was glad to have avoided that campaign.

Marching in the jungle, though, was the worst experience of all, or so he was told. The heat and humidity quickly sucked energy out the marchers, requiring frequent stops. Struggling through the overgrowth was tiring, dirty job.

Mahavir's uncharacteristically kind thoughts towards archers came as he rolled gently over the tangled growth as on a ship rolling gently on the ocean. Since his reclassification out of the ranks of swordsmen, he had received extensive training in the care and driving of war elephants, India's latest weapon. [Ed.: I know, I know - swordsmen don't upgrade to war elephants in Civ III. Chalk it up to dramatic license!] As a mahout, his longest march of the day had been the twenty paces to his elephant.

Being above the undergrowth, he avoided the tedious struggle through it. Gajanana, his elephant, could push through all but the most tangled growth. Also, his perch on Gajanana's neck was high above the ground level where the elephant dung ended up. From his tending of Gajanana, he knew how massive and smelly that could be. Many of his former comrades from the swordsmen ranks had commented on the odor.

In fact, the only thing that bothered him about his new occupation was having to consort with Indian archers. The wooden howdah strapped to Gajanana's massive back could carry four soldiers with missile weapons. Usually, that consisted of two javelin throwers and two archers.

Still, he couldn't let his prejudices get in the way of his job. Maybe the archers would prove useful.

As he guided Gajanana through the jungle, they came to edge of the clearing that marked the outer reaches of Osaka. Their target was a mere town, surrounded by jungle. There was evidence of recent work towards clearing the jungle growth, but all the workers had fled for the relative protection of the town.

The Japanese spearmen had set up a defensive line at the outskirts of the town, and even from this distance, Mahavir could see the line waver at the sight of the war elephants ranged against it.

At the command from his commander, he and the others in his company goaded their war elephants forward at a smooth, easy pace. Some mahouts urged their elephants to trumpet through their trunks, an impressive cry. The Japanese horsemen, ranged in front of the line to attack the Indian foot soldiers, had trouble controlling their mounts. Several of the frightened horses broke and ran, one dragging its rider beside it, his foot stuck in the panicking horse's stirrup. Some of the Japanese spearmen on the flanks were already beginning to melt away.

The Indian archers enjoyed a height (and hence, distance) advantage over their Japanese counterparts and began to rain down arrows on the hapless defenders, especially the Japanese archers supporting the spearmen. The ranks of the defenders were thinning quickly, with only a few returning shafts coming remotely close to their marks.

As they closed the distance to the Japanese forces, Mahavir grinned. This would be an easy fight. He loosened the guard on the sheath concealed in Gajanana's barding; on his command, the elephant grasped the specially designed hilt of a gigantic sword and drew it forth. The huge blade made a singing metallic sound as it emerged from under the plate-and-fiber armor.

The sound riveted the attention of the Japanese soldiers upon whom Gajanana was rapidly bearing down. Gajanana began rhythmically waving the sword back and forth, back and forth. The center of the line gave way, those in front scrambling to crawl over those behind. The javelin throwers were finding easy marks in the terrified and fleeing spearmen. The archers, having run out of Japanese archers to target, had begun to concentrate on the remaining soldiers.

A few brave Japanese horsemen had managed to control their mounts and attempted to dash in to attack the elephants in their unprotected bellies, but Indian swordsmen quickly cut them down.

In less than an hour, the Indian standard was raised above Osaka's town center, and the captured workers were returned to clearing jungle.

Mahavir was tending to a slight arrow wound in Gajanana's hide when Narhari hailed him.

"Ho, Mahavir," he called, "How was battle from an elephant's back?"

"Magnificent," grinned Mahavir. "Not a scratch. I though the Japanese were a military race."

Narhari laughed. "They are. This is just an outpost. They'll figure out how to defend against elephants soon enough, then you'll see."

"When we hit Kyoto, there will just be more of them to run."

"Perhaps," said Narhari, thoughtfully. After a pause, he continued, "Join us for our meal. Prajeet asks after you."

"Sorry, I can't. Less work in battle means more work between."

"Ah, then, some later time. Namaskar, Corporal Ibhanan."

Preoccupied with the wound, it took a few minutes for the meaning of the farewell to sink in. Ibhanan meant "Elephant Face!"

Mahavir finished his treatment, then goaded Gajanana forward.

"Let's go visit Nahari's tent," he said with a chuckle. "I have a job for you to do."

Tomorrow: Edo

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Glad to see the next part up but Ive got to go to work now so Ill read this later and post then.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Once again fantastic, well worth the wait, keep it coming.

[bassman]

From the Big Book of Indian War Stories, Volume Four

Edo
The trumpeting of the elephants broke Xiao's concentration and the four knives he had been juggling clattered to the ground around him. No one booed, as they had early in his career as an entertainer. All attention was locked on the threat building at the edge of Edo.

There was no point in continuing his act. The meager crowd was melting away, drawn by curiosity to the scene of the impending battle. Being an entertainer was a tough living, in some ways harder than being a worker, but at least he was his own boss. He packed up his equipment and followed the crowd toward the jungle.

By the time he reached the city outskirts, he could not see through the thick crowd. He dropped the handles of his prop cart and climbed atop it for a better view.

The Indians were still arranging their forces around the city. War elephants, each with a driver behind the head and a tall wooden howdah strapped on its back, stood every 40 feet or so, with pikemen and swordsmen drawing up ranks between. That seemed to verify the buzz Xiao had heard about the effect elephants had on horses. If horses wouldn't come close to an elephant unless they had been specially trained, the well-spaced picket of pachyderms made an effective screen. Looking at the skittish Japanese horse squadron, Xiao didn't think the defending horsemen would have much influence on the battle.

A murmur went through the crowd as the Indian line began its advance. The elephants trumpeted again and again, causing two Japanese horses to rear in fright. Both dumped their riders and raced towards the crowd, shying away at the last moment and plunging into the jungle south of the city.

In the confusion, a small dog had escaped from the crowd. Why would people bring pets to a battle, thought Xiao, forgetting the folly of bringing one's self. He watched as a small girl, the pet's owner, was restrained by her parents. The dog she was desperate to retrieve was one of those wiry little terriers so popular in the city for their ability to catch rodents. Xiao had thought the breed smart and fearless, but this one appeared a bit too brave, or not very smart. It was attacking one of the war elephants, apparently trying to protect its young owner.

The elephant, which should have been able to squish the pint-size mutt with one huge paw, was becoming very disturbed by the small, active creature that darted in and out of its legs. The cheers of the crowd grew as the barking champion evaded the elephant and the Indian warriors who scurried to trap it. The elephant added to the drama by continually trumpeting and shifting from foot to foot trying to avoid the brave little dog.

Suddenly, the elephant turned back into the Indian line and bulled into it at full speed. The warriors in its howdah were hanging on for their lives, and Indian spearmen and swordsmen were being crushed by the elephant's mad dash for freedom. The elephant's mahout had been one of the first soldiers killed in the rampage.

A huge cheer rose from Edo's citizens as the hole in the Indian line widened. The Japanese horsemen still in control of their mounts pressed forward to exploit the crumbling line, and the foot forces fell in behind.

The Indian forces were scrabbling to plug the opening in their line as the Japanese horsemen plunged into it, using their lances on the attack. The horsemen's number was thinning, though, as Indian javelin throwers and archers found their range. The Japanese swordsmen and spearmen were severely outmatched by the Indian pikemen that flowed in to stop the gap in the line. The tide of battle was quickly turning.

The Japanese force, realizing its peril, began falling back, but it was too late. The Indian center fell on them in earnest, while the wings of the force advanced on the city.

In horror, the crowd abruptly realized its own danger and surged back towards the safety of their homes. Xiao was trapped atop his relatively stable cart. He realized that stepping down into the fleeing crowd would only result in a crushing death beneath the rabble's feet. Occasionally, someone would smash into his cart, which would cause it to pitch and scrape for a few feet along the wall of the building. He decided that as long as he could maintain his balance, he would be all right.

The last of the crowd was followed closely by the advancing war elephants and pikemen. Xiao clung closely to the building, trying to blend into its rough surface. A few Indians looked his way, but seeing his lack of arms, they turned back towards the city center, eager to begin looting, no doubt. A few looked at his precarious perch and smirked.

Finally, the stream of citizens and soldiers fell to a light trickle and he climbed down from the cart.

"You, there!" hollered someone.

Xiao turned to find himself face to face, or rather head to eye, with a huge elephant. For a moment, he thought the animal itself had called to him, until the mahout cried out again, "You, there!"

"Yes?" said Xiao, "what do you want?"

"Can you use those knives?" said the mahout, pointing to the glossy sign on the cart's side which advertised him as 'The Great Xiao'.

"I've had some experience," said Xiao, warily.

"Great!" said the mahout. "I lost my charkattas when that elephant ran amok. You just changed professions."

"I don't understand."

"I need a grass-cutter. You're it!"

"Do I have a choice?" asked Xiao.

"None," said the mahout, grinning.

"Well," said Xiao with a shrug, "so much for show biz."

[bassman]

Tomorrow: Tokyo...

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Well never mind I thought Xiao might become a Samurai but it was not to be,my what an interesting career path hes had,you could write another story based on his autobiography.Anyways on with the story Im thinking the little dog thing will prove to be significant later but I was wrong about our Xiao.