John Ringo - Against the Tide

Herzer took up his position behind Edmund’s chair, the one at the end of the room farthest from the easel. Edmund looked at the setup and reached into a pocket, pulled out a set of spectacles and settled them on his nose.

“Commander, you may begin,” Brigadier General Kabadda said as soon as everyone was seated. His position was on the left side of the table at the end nearest the easel, directly across from the fleet commander.

“Sirs,” the commander said, pulling the oilcloth off the easel to reveal a marked map of the North Atlantis. “At 0500 this date, local time, First Fleet, composed of five task forces formed around the carriers Bonhomme Richard , Washuka , Corvallis Line , Norland and Reagan , along with the light forces task force 7-1, was four hundred klicks west of the Onay Islands.” He pointed to a point on the map. “The enemy was just passing the Onay Islands, making good time with northeasterly winds. According to plan, the fleet will begin to launch dragons at about 1100 hours, not long after dawn local time, depending upon when the scouts indicate the enemy is at the optimal range. Engagement should begin approximately 1200 hours local. Given the disparity of force, the fleet commander estimates that only a single strike will be necessary to take out the enemy’s carriers and a later strike is planned to engage his light units.

“A revictualling convoy is approximately two hundred klicks southeast of the fleet’s current position. It was held pending the battle, but should be able to complete its mission in no more than two days. Two scout forces are near the Asur Islands and are screening the actions of orcas in that area. Task force 3-2 is just north of Blackbeard Base completing work-ups of the carrier Hazhir . Sirs, this is all current deployments and plans of the North Atlantis fleet.”

“Good brief, Commander,” General Kabadda said. “Questions? General Piet? General Hanour? General Babak?” He looked around the room to a series of shaking heads.

“I have one,” Talbot drawled. “What is the guard on the -convoy?”

“Excuse, me, sir?” the commander asked.

“Who is guarding the convoy? According to my information, the fleet was supposed to be revictualled last week. What is guarding the convoy?”

“There is a ballista frigate and an armed sloop,” General Kabadda replied, his mouth pursed. “We had to wait for special supplies for the dragons so the convoy left late.”

“Thank you,” Edmund replied. “What is the status of the Hazhir ?”

“I’m… not sure,” the commander said, riffling through some notes. “It is fully manned but it has only seven dragons. It’s been being used as a test-bed by the local commander and is about to be refitted to standard configuration. Refit will take no more than one week.”

“Very good,” Edmund said. “What is the status of foodstuffs for the wyverns in the fleet?” Edmund asked, calmly.

“General, we can get you all that information,” General Kabadda said.

“Great,” Edmund replied. “I generally expect to get it at my briefings, but as long as it’s available somewhere we can access it before, oh, twelve hundred hours, that will be fine.”

“Admiral?” the chief of staff asked, tightly.

“Good brief,” he said to the commander, standing up. “I think you can look forward to a better one this evening.”

Edmund got to his feet and headed for the door, stepping to the side to let the other generals past. Herzer noted some sharp looks in their direction but he’d been stared at by worse. Most of the generals just looked like they had to pee.

Edmund waited until Kabadda came through the door and held out his arm.

“I will need that data, General,” he said, smiling.

“I’ll have it gathered, General,” the chief of staff answered. “But isn’t your ensign looking at most of it right now?”

“Not all,” Edmund replied with a tight grin. “And I’d like to see what you bring me.”

“Why don’t I find you an office?” the chief of staff said. “That way you can peruse the information in comfort.”

Edmund smiled again and shrugged.

“Oh, I think flipping through it in your war-room would be just fine.”

“Fisking empire builders,” Edmund muttered as they walked down a corridor.

“Excuse me, sir?” Herzer said. “And the war-room is the other way.”

“I know,” Edmund said, turning a corner. “But there has got to be a bathroom around here somewhere.”

“I’m sure there is,” Herzer replied, dryly. “And I’m sure that there’s one reserved for generals, too.”

“I’m not looking for more marble,” Edmund growled. “I should have taken the offer of an office, but it was a blatant ploy to get me out of their hair. I don’t want to be out of their hair.”

“It’s their first real battle, sir,” Herzer said, spotting a bathroom and opening the door. It was a simple affair, Spartan in a way, with a long trough at one side into which water spurted out of pipes. There were holes on one side for defecation, with more water flowing through under the holes. But he had to admit that it was clean. Nearly as clean as the identical set-up at the Blood Lord barracks and the Academy.

“This must be for peons,” Edmund growled, walking to the trough and unbuttoning his fly. “Anyone around?”

“No,” Herzer said.

“The problem is, it is their first battle,” Edmund snarled. “And none of them have the slightest fisking clue what they are doing.”

“Sir?”

“Herzer, assume that you’re briefing me on an army in, oh, Linwah. What are you going to cover?”

“Has it been in battle recently?” Herzer asked.

“No, it’s getting ready to clash with a similar force.”

“Intel abstracts with the raw data available,” Herzer said then grabbed a mantra from his head. “Mission, enemy, time, terrain, signals, support. What they are going to do. What they have present to do it. What we estimate the enemy has in the way of materials and ability. What the area conditions are. What the means of communications are. What materials our units have present and estimate of the enemy’s materials. What materials we have on the way and estimated arrival. He covered most of it, sir.”

“Most,” Edmund said, closing his fly. “Did you know there was a storm on the way down from the north? That it was estimated to arrive in a day and a half or so?”

“No, sir,” Herzer said.

“I figured out how to read their maps in the war-room,” Edmund growled. “That’s damned vital information. It means that the fleet cannot revictual completely. Did you know that the dragons were down to two days’ food? That the fleet was out of ketchup ?”

The latter was the only thing that could get dragons to eat the mess of beans and oil that was their normal food away from fresh meat.

“Jesus, sir,” Herzer blanched. “They’re getting hungry.”

“And a hungry dragon will eat anything, including the handlers and riders,” Edmund snarled. “They’re going up against an enemy that they don’t know the capabilities of, with dragons that are hungry and balky. Why?”

“That I don’t know,” Herzer said.

“Because they’ve never fought a battle before,” Edmund replied. “Or even trained, seriously, for one. They don’t know about the fog of war, they don’t know that no plan survives contact with the enemy. But, worst of all, it’s because they have not fought before. The only one of their officers who has met the enemy in any sort of a pitched battle was Shar Chang, and he’s ‘not one of us.’ The Yacht Club has yet to earn its spurs. And they had blithely pitched a forward battle, engagement at the earliest opportunity. Now they can’t say: ‘Wait; the fleet needs resupply and there’s a storm coming that will ground our dragons.’ Because they fear they’ll lose face.”