John Ringo - Against the Tide

“Fisk you, General, sir,” the dragon said, then laughed. The “vacation” had involved, among other things, being dragged nearly to her death by a kraken. On the other hand, the kraken had lost.

“Commander Gramlich,” the admiral said, furious at being ignored. “For the last time, I order you…”

He paused as an officer approached with two pieces of paper in his hand. He looked at the general and the admiral and then handed one to the admiral and one to Talbot. The admiral took one look at the piece of paper, reading it by the light of his burning headquarters, crumpled the paper up and dropped it to the ground. Then he walked away into the night.

“Sir?” General Kabadda called after him.

“Stay,” the admiral said. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”

Talbot glanced at the paper and then looked at Kabadda.

“This reads, and I quote; ‘General Wallace Draskovich relieved North Atlantis Command, effective immediately, Admiral Edmund Talbot appointed command vice General Draskovich. Signature, Michael Spehar, Minister of War.’ ” He handed the sheet of paper to Kabadda, who took it as if it were incendiary as the headquarters. “Do you acknowledge this assumption of command?”

The brigadier looked at it as if he couldn’t read, then read it and read it again.

“I do so acknowledge your assumption of command…” he said, gritting his teeth. “Admiral.”

“Kabadda, I’ll tell you something,” Edmund said, softly. “I’m about a centimeter away from having you follow the admiral. Do you want to do that?”

“No,” Kabadda said, after a long pause.

“I’ll tell you something else,” Edmund went on. “The position of chief of staff is thankless, because everything he does right the boss gets credit for. And he gets his ass chewed for anything he does wrong. But he’s the guy that makes the weapon, the commander just wields it. Frankly, with tweaking, this base and the fleet are pretty good weapons. Pretty good. Because the damned logistics are on your shoulders, from that point of view, not the admiral’s. That means that not properly serving the dragons was your fault. But if you think you can get your job done the rest of the way, then I’m going to give you a pass. But from my POV, you’ve already had your strikes. One more and you’re following the admiral. Clear?”

“Clear, sir,” the general said.

“Okay, stop the idiotic bucket chain. That place was burning to the ground before the last wyvern flew over and we’re just getting more people burned trying to put it out. Get the wounded tended to, get a headcount, get somebody besides you doing all this and meet me at the docks.”

“The docks, General?” the chief of staff asked.

“The docks,” Edmund replied. “I’m gonna go talk to the mer. Joanna, Destrang, Van Krief, you’re on me.”

“Hey, son,” Edmund said as he walked out onto the mer pier. He looked at the messenger and motioned. “Mind if I borrow that chair?”

“Who are you?” the messenger asked.

Edmund realized that with his tunic off, he was just a slightly sooty guy in a T-shirt.

“I’m Admiral Edmund Talbot, your new commander,” he said, mildly. “Now would you mind getting out of the chair?”

The seaman looked at the two ensigns and the dragon following the person, who did have the trousers of an officer, and after a moment’s shock, shot out of the chair as if it were electric.

“Thank you,” Edmund said, picking it up and taking it over to the side of the pier.

The pier was raised well above the height of the water but there was a floating dock at water-level. Herzer was stomach down, talking to the mer in the water in low tones, with a delphino drifting on the surface, watching.

“Herzer,” Edmund said, “stand up.”

Herzer rolled over and to his feet, looking up at the general.

“Catch,” Edmund said, tossing the chair down to the captain.

He then walked down the slippery stairs to the platform, took the chair away from Herzer and carried it to the side of the floating dock.

“Hi,” Edmund said to the mer. “How’s it going?”

“You’re Talbot,” the mer said, surprised.

“That’s me, should I remember you?” Edmund asked. “I don’t, sorry.”

“No, sir, we’ve never met,” the mer replied. “Asfaw, sir, communications lieutenant. I wasn’t in the Bimi pod when you were there, sir. I joined later.”

“Oh, good, I feel better.” Edmund chuckled. “There were so many mer on the Retreat I never could keep most of them straight.”

“Talbot!” the delphino squealed. “Talbot General.”

“Yes, and you are?”

“T-t-tilly!” the delphino answered. Communicating clearly with a blow-hole was not the easiest thing in the world. It often made the delphinos sound stupid, but they were of normal human intelligence and had abilities in the water even the mer could not touch.

“Good evening, Mr. Tilly,” Edmund said.

“Not good!” Tilly replied. “Fire!”

“Oh, well.” Talbot shrugged. “I never liked that headquarters anyway.”

There was a moment’s pause and then Asfaw started laughing so hard he slipped back into the water and the delphino let out a high squeal of amusement.

“But there are things we need to do,” Edmund continued when the two got their mirth under control. “I’ve got good news and bad news, and it’s both the same news.”

“What’s that, sir?” the mer asked.

“I’ve just assumed command,” Edmund replied, handing him the sheet of paper. “Send that out. Tell everyone to rebroadcast it.”

“Willll!” the delphino trilled.

“Wait,” Edmund said. “There’s more. All remaining ships, retreat towards coast, assemble when possible near the Granbas area where Merillo is.”

“Storm come!”

“Where then?” Edmund asked.

“Soooouth!” the delphino squealed. “Bamud!”

“Okay, I stand corrected,” Edmund replied. “To all the ships with wyvern; feed them meat from normal stocks. Do not attempt transfer at this time unless senior dragon-riders concur. Understood?”

“’Stood!” the delphino squealed.

“All whalos run silent until mer and delphinos are on station. Any that are under attack, move to the nearest fleet. Fleets are to use wyvern to attack the orcas.”

“Orca meat!” the delphino squealed happily. “Taste sweet!”

“To Merillo and the group assisting him; draw the orcas to the nearest wyvern armed fleet units.”

“’Stood!”

“Last order,” Edmund said. “To all carriers: Forage wyverns when possible. Tell the mer to meet with the senior dragon-riders and amplify . They all know the story.”

“Will!” the delphino squealed.

“Okay, we’re done for now. I’m appointed command, Admiral Draskovich relieved. Retreat towards Bamud. Feed the dragons, on orca and ixchitl if possible. Protect the whales. That’s all I can expect them to handle right now.”

“Done!” the delphino said and dove under the water.

Edmund leaned back in the chair, planted his feet and tipped it back to look at the stars. He looked over at Herzer and had to chuckle; the captain had a pad of paper out and was clearly taking notes of the orders.

“They’re really big on written orders, sir,” Herzer said.

“That they are,” Edmund replied, looking up at the stars.

“Ge… Admiral,” General Kabadda called from up on the pier. “We’ve pulled everyone but a fire-watch back from the headquarters. I’m shifting it to the officers’ club.”

“Nah,” Edmund said. “Shift it down here.”

“Here, sir?”