John Ringo - East of the Sun, West of the Moon

“You’re not here for a vacation,” Herzer pointed out. “You’re here so that your kids, and you, are protected.”

“So I’m going to be cooling my heels while Courtney does whatever it is she’s going to do?” Mike asked, angrily. “Take care of the kids?”

“There’s a problem with that?” Megan asked, coming down the corridor. “Hello, Courtney, Mike.”

“No, of course I can take care of the kids,” Mike snapped. “It’s all I’ve got to do, isn’t it?”

“Uh,” Herzer hummed, interjecting himself between the two. “There’s a few points I’d like to make before Mike tries to kill a council member and gets turned into a newt…”

“I wasn’t going to—”

“I wouldn’t do that—”

“Yeah,” Herzer snapped. “Megan, please chill out for a second. Mike, you’re going to be doing something other than taking care of the kids. I can think of a half a dozen things. And you’ll get briefed on what’s going on around here, as soon as I get a chance , okay?”

“Okay,” Mike growled, glancing at Megan. “But that better be soon.”

“It will be when I can get to it, Mike,” Herzer replied. “I’ve got about a billion other problems on my plate.”

“Who’s going to take care of the kids?” Courtney asked, frowning.

“Four,” Mike pointed out. “From swaddling clothes to four.”

“Babies, bleck,” Herzer said, then shrugged. “For the time being, Shanea.”

“What?” Megan snapped. “Why Shanea ?”

Herzer closed his eyes for a second, then turned and simply looked at her.

“Okay, so she makes the most sense,” Megan said after a long glare. “But you could consult me next time.”

“I hadn’t thought of the problem until it was brought up,” Herzer admitted. “I thought there would be enough people here to handle minor details. But there aren’t. Are you aware that they don’t even have the cooking staff replaced, yet?”

“No,” Megan said. “Who’s going to cook?”

“Well, there’s all these women…” Mike said then stopped when both Megan and Herzer fixed him with a glare. “What? It’s true! Besides, Herzer, I’ve had your cooking. You can’t boil water . Pass .”

“I’ve gotten better,” Herzer said. “We’re probably going to be getting food from the legion for the time being. But there are a billion details to work out and I haven’t even figured out who is in charge .”

“Ahem,” Lieutenant Commer cleared his throat. “You are. Sir.”

“What?” Herzer snapped.

“Colonel Carson was the base commander, sir,” the lieutenant said, nervously. “I suppose, that the position devolves to either you or the countess.”

“I don’t have time to manage the base and get ready for the mission,” Herzer said angrily.

“Sorry, sir,” the lieutenant replied, ducking his head.

“Don’t be; you just gave me more bad news,” Herzer said, throwing up his hands. “Megan?”

“You think these soldiers are going to listen to me?” she asked.

“Yes,” Herzer replied. “As automatically as breathing. Why?”

“Well…” Megan said, temporizing. “You want me to run the base?”

“No,” Herzer said after a moment. “That won’t work, either. You’re going to have too much to do. We’ll find someone. Damnit, where in the hell is Tao!”

“I’m here, sir,” Van Krief said quietly.

“Go to the portal, then go to Colonel Torill at SpecOps. Tell him we’re in a classic FUBAR. I need an officer of rank of captain or major who has base management experience and appropriate clearances; I don’t have time to manage the base and plan and train for the op at the same time. We also need support staff, replacements for the previous casualties… Point out to him the situation and, beyond that, please ask him to exercise his best judgment but right now the only thing working around here is security and the dwarves and we need more than that.”

“Yes, sir,” Van Krief said, folding her notebook.

“Go! And if you see Tao, tell him to get his butt moving!”

“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant said, turning to walk away.

“Shit,” Herzer muttered. “Amosis, give me your notebook.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, handing it over with a quizzical expression.

“You can’t get out without authorization,” Herzer explained, writing a short note and handing it to her. “Lieutenant… Commer, what’s the name of the Blood Lord commander?”

“Captain Van Buskirk, sir,” the lieutenant replied.

“Bus?” Herzer said. “I didn’t even know he’d made lieutenant much less captain. Okay, Megan, could you please get with Courtney and Shanea and discuss specific housekeeping arrangements. There may be more kids that have to be looked after; we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I need to go see the detachment commander. And maybe arrange dinner.”

“Yes, sir!” Megan snapped.

“In a moment,” Herzer said, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her down the corridor. “Okay, what?” he asked when they were in her room.

Megan started to reply, then bit her tongue. He waited through a jaw flex and an inhalation, expecting at any moment to have his head ripped off.

“I’d gotten used to giving orders,” Megan said, finally. “And I’ve got a question; who’s in charge here?”

“Oh,” Herzer said, blowing out a breath. “In all honesty, I suppose you are. You’re the Key-holder.”

“True,” Megan replied, shaking her head. “But I’m not the right person to be in charge. I wouldn’t have known to contact… Colonel Torill and I wouldn’t have known to ask for… that officer you asked for. So what are we doing?”

Herzer thought about it for a moment, scratching his chin with his prosthetic and then nodded, sharply.

“Council members, with a few exceptions, are responsible for strategic decisions, not operational or tactical, agreed? And, with the exception of Duke Edmund, they are defined as civilians, not military.”

“Agreed,” Megan said. “So you’re saying I get strategic calls and you get operational and tactical? I get civilian, you get military?”

“When we’re prepping the mission and when we’re on the mission, I’m in charge,” Herzer said bluntly. “Up and until we come to a strategic decision. Then you make the call and I carry it out. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Megan said.

“Now,” Herzer said, delicately. “What the hell was that with Mike?”

Megan’s face worked again and Herzer just waited.

“He has a tendency to piss me off,” Megan admitted. “And the whole ‘me man, me work, you woman, take care of babies and cook’ really—”

“Triggered something?” Herzer asked.

“You could say that,” Megan admitted with a breathless chuckle. “Very… strong stab of anger.”

“ ‘Irrational’ stab of anger?” Herzer asked.

“Oh, I dunno,” Megan said, smiling unhappily. “I think it was pretty rational, don’t you?”

“The degree?” Herzer asked.

“No.”

“You know what was happening there?” Herzer asked carefully.

“I’d analyzed it myself the moment you brought it up,” Megan said bitterly. “Thank you.”

“There is going to be a lot of stress on this mission,” Herzer pointed out. “A lot of tension. Probably a fair degree of shouting. Certainly orders that are going to have to be acted on, sometimes without thinking about it. There is not room for someone who is not in control of their emotions.”

“I’m in perfect control,” Megan said, coldly.

“No, you’re not,” Herzer replied gently. “Not if Mike can get you that angry by just being… Mike. Stress is not cumulative, it’s multiplicative. There’s small background stress, then you add another stress on and another and finally there’s that one that sends you right up to the brink of loss of control, or over. And life-threatening stress is worse than what we’ve been dealing with. If you panic, up there…” His jaw worked and Megan reached up to stroke it.