John Ringo - Against the Tide

“Yep. Where are your communications?”

“Here, sir,” Kabadda admitted. “But…”

“Got any mer sitting around the O-club for advice?”

“Advice, sir?”

“Yes, Kabadda, advice,” Edmund replied, tiredly. “Look, work with me here, do a bit of thinking. Have you ever flown a dragon?”

“I’ve flown on one, sir…”

“Yeah, so have I,” Edmund snorted. “In that so-called briefing you thought was so great, the most experienced dragon-rider, dragon wrangler for that matter, was Herzer, who kept his mouth shut the whole time. The most experienced person at coordinating mer and delphino forces in the attack was me . When we rebuild a headquarters, and I’ll admit we’re going to have to, the meeting area and war-room will be suspended over the water, like a boathouse, and it will have a way for great dragons to participate, if by no other means than sticking their heads through the window. Clear?”

“Clear, sir,” the general said in a stricken voice.

“Joanna.”

“Dude,” Joanna said.

“We’re back playing soldiers, now, Joanna,” Edmund said.

“Yes, sir,” the dragon said with amusement in her voice.

“Forget the failure to provide adequate support,” Edmund said. “I’m sure there are some nice juicy bullocks around and if not I understand most of the horses in the stables are ready for the glue factory. What’s your back pay?”

“Eight hundred chits,” Joanna snarled, angrily. “And by contract I can request that it be in specie. I’m so requesting.”

Edmund sighed at the tone but kept looking up.

“Pay her, Kabadda,” he said.

“But, sir…”

“I said pay her,” Edmund snarled. “Joanna, silver do?”

“Sure.”

“Kabadda, get a working party started on ripping the fixtures out of the VIP quarters bathroom. Ditto anywhere else that they used silver for fixtures. If it comes down to it, get all the silver table settings in the dining room. And then find someone who’ll give us a pence on the chit in silver or gold for the damned bathtub.”

“Yes, sir,” the chief of staff said in a voice that mingled resignation and anger.

“We’re a military force, not a bunch of Persian potentates,” Edmund amplified. “Joanna, you’re gonna get paid. Question: How far can you fly?”

“Pretty far,” the dragon said, warily.

“All the way to Blackbeard Base?”

“I don’t know,” the dragon said, honestly. “I wouldn’t want to try it.”

“You’re gonna have to,” Edmund said. “Asfaw, another order.”

“Yes, sir,” the mer said.

“Effective immediately, Brigadier Shar Chang brevet promoted Lieutenant General. Will proceed via… what’s the name of that carrier down there?”

“ Hazhir , sir,” Herzer said.

“Proceed immediately to Newfell Base via carrier Hazhir . Carrier will leave all but one wyvern. Expect contact en route by greater dragon. Make all sail. Anybody know where Evan is?”

“Who?” Kabadda asked, clearly lost.

“Blackbeard,” Herzer said.

“You’re sure?” Edmund asked.

“I took the trouble to find out.”

“Bring civilian engineer Evan Mayerle. Joanna, you’re going to head for Blackbeard. Hopefully you’ll meet the carrier on the way. If not, feed at Blackbeard and then go find it. Get Shar up here, soonest. Bring Evan if you think you can handle the weight.”

“It’d be easier if I had some sort of powered assist on takeoff,” the dragon grumbled. “Even a cliff. But this place is flat as a board.”

“Kabadda, in the morning get working on a dragon-launching platform,” Edmund said. “It’s stupid that dragons attacking us have assists and our defensive forces don’t.”

“Yes, sir,” the chief of staff said. “But if the dragon leaves, we won’t have any cover for the base, sir.”

“What about the wyverns?” Edmund asked.

“What wyverns?” Joanna said. “I’m the only dragon here.”

Edmund covered his face with his hands and shook his head.

“Send a runner over to the message center. Message follows: Send flight of wyverns and riders to Newfell Base. Immediate. Coastal forces prepare for dragon attacks. More follows. Signature Talbot.”

“Will do, sir,” one of the messengers said, scribbling hastily.

“Kabadda, I want that platform done in less than a week,” Edmund said. “At least twenty meters high, strong enough to support a great dragon. With a catapult.”

“Yes, sir,” Kabadda said. “But… that’s a lot of material.”

“And manpower,” Edmund said. “Which you will find in whatever is left of the shipyards. We’re out of the shipbuilding business for the time being. What do we have in the way of supply craft, and materials, to send out to the fleet? And do we have any idea what we have in the way of supplies?”

“With the headquarters burned we lost most of the records,” Kabadda admitted. “But we can reconstruct some of them from records in the warehouses. There are two transport ships available, but nothing to cover them with.”

Edmund thought about that and sighed.

“Get them ready for sea, loaded with wyvern food and ketchup,” he said.

“Sir, we’re… out of ketchup,” Kabadda admitted.

“Oh, grand,” Joanna said. “In that case, I want those bullocks cooked, General.”

“Care to amplify that, Kabadda?” Edmund sighed. “Never mind. Get them ready with all the salt beef and pork you have available. Canned if you have it. Or smoked fish. Anything protein with high fat content. And find some ketchup .”

“Yes, sir,” the chief of staff said.

“There’s another carrier out there, somewhere,” Edmund muttered.

“Agreed, sir,” Kabadda said. “The geometry is impossible for the ones that struck the fleet to have struck here as well.”

“Lieutenant Asfaw.”

“Sir?” the mer said.

“Ask Jason to get some delphinos deployed over this way,” Edmund said. “Find that damned carrier.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I don’t want to be dealing with these details, Kabadda,” Edmund said. “Get the supplies collected, stat. Handle it.”

“Yes, sir,” the chief of staff replied.

“But get at least a couple of hours sleep sometime tonight; it’s gonna be a long day.”

As the chief of staff hurried away, Edmund dropped the chair back to the dock and leaned over to look at the mer.

“So, what do you think?”

“I think I’m glad you took over,” Asfaw replied.

“Well, you’ll find I’m going to be poking into your affairs more than Draskovich did,” Edmund said. “So, anything you need down there?”

“Honestly?” the mer asked, surprised.

“Honestly.”

“General,” the mer said, trying not to sound angry. “This bottom is mud. We’ve got the choice of trying to hold our position in the current or hold onto the dock or lie in the mud. It’s like, six meters deep. You tend to sink. Frankly, sir, it sucks.”

“So, you wanna chair?” Edmund asked.

“Something,” the mer replied with a shrug.

“Herzer?” Edmund said.

“Got it,” Herzer replied. “The mer need something to sit on.”

“Anything else?” Edmund asked.

“Oh, lots, General,” the mer replied. “The message system sucks. Our quarters suck. There needs to be more than one of us mer and one delphino here. I could go on and on.”

“Herzer… no, Destrang, sit here and listen to the mer and delphino litany of complaints,” Edmund said. “And pick up anything coming in from the fleet that you think I really need to know. I’m going to bed. Nobody is going to be making sense before morning. Joanna, what are you still doing here?”