John Ringo - Against the Tide

“The anti-dragon frigates were a known weapon,” Joel started. “I’d sent both a description and schematics to Naval Intelligence who apparently decided that it was an ‘unconfirmed report.’ I’ve also developed intel on their carriers. There are some differences from ours, some significant ones I believe.”

“Such as?”

“Shorter legs,” Joel said, extracting a sheet of paper. “They’re only good for about forty days at sea. Furthermore, the training of the dragon-riders is, my analysts believe, sub-optimum. That is confirmed, I feel, by their lack of success.”

“They took out four carriers,” Edmund pointed out.

“Yes, sir, but given the number of dragons they can loftÑthey carry forty-five, which is one reason they are short-leggedÑthey should have been able to sink the entire fleet. Their aim was rather poor.”

“Okay, point.”

“They currently have six, unfortunately. I’ll admit that the additional carrier caught me by surprise. I’ve been concentrating my gathering efforts in the northern ports and they apparently used Bassay to build and field that one. Their fleet is currently headed for home ports, including the one from Bassay, which is headed to attach to the main fleet. They were caught by the storm and badly battered around; they also don’t appear to have as good quality of sailors as we do. Some of their light units and one anti-dragon frigate are reported as lost.”

“How many frigates did they have?”

“Ten, which explains our losses,” Joel replied. “It’s not my place to ask, but are you going to be able to replace those?”

“I’ve got wyverns flying in from all over,” Edmund replied. “Training them, and their riders, will take some time but not as much as you’d think. Once they make a carrier landing, I’ll have the ships do further work-ups at sea. And I think I can do some work on the supply issues. But the shipyards are going to have to work like demons.”

“You can anticipate them doing a fast turn-around on their end,” Joel pointed out. “I don’t have any intel on their intentions. So far I’ve been able to establish a fairly good intelligence group in Ropasa, but penetrating their high level positions is a slow and dangerous business.”

“Well, keep at it,” Edmund sighed. “What else do you have?”

“Quite a bit, actually…”

Edmund was leaning back in a comfortable chair, a glass of wine in his hand and his feet propped up when there was a knock on the door.

He looked at it irritably and sighed. It was after midnight and he had been meeting with one person or another all day and most of the day before. He certainly was in no mood for more company. But there was no one else to answer it. He’d sent Herzer and the rest off when he got back to his quarters.

He set the cup down and walked over, mentally grumbling to himself. It seemed as if no one on the entire base, possibly in the entire Navy, had the slightest clue how to organize and manage a military force. Oh, they could move food around and they could sail ships. But that seemed to be as far as they’d thought. No one that he had encountered seemed to think in terms of bringing harm to the enemy.

For Edmund, who thought about it even when there wasn’t an enemy to bring harm to, it was like being the one-eyed man in the country of the blind.

He jerked the door open, intending to ream a new asshole, and then smiled when he saw it was Shar Chang.

“I can come back later,” the general said. He’d gotten a new uniform and washed up but he still looked worn out from the long flight.

“No,” Edmund said, waving him into the room, “I said as soon as you woke up. One of the things I’m trying to get this cluster of school boys to understand is the concept of doing the work when it needs to be done.”

“Sailors generally understand that,” Shar pointed out. “A storm doesn’t care what time it is.”

“Most of these guys were sailors when you knew exactly when there would be a storm,” Edmund pointed out, pouring another glass of wine. He handed it to Shar and sat back down, waving at the chair across from him.

“Point,” Shar said. “Do you know how the senior officers were chosen?”

“No. I know they all come from that same sailing club.”

“Every year the club has a regatta, a race,” Shar said, taking a sip of wine and looking at the ceiling. “Quite the do. Yachts come in from across the world. It was one of the big events right at the end of the yachting season. Anyway, absent any other way to choose, the senior officers were chosen from the captains that had the best time in last year’s race. Draskovich was the winner; the man really can sail. Kabadda was in second place, by a nose if I recall correctly. Et cetera.”

“That’s just peachy,” Edmund said. “And I suppose their XOs are in their usual place?”

“Oh, yes,” Chang replied. “If they were around. Trahn, now, the second guy in Logistics, is a pretty good guy. I don’t know if he knows diddly about logistics, though.”

“We’ll see,” Edmund replied. “I’ll admit that they are good at moving food and spares. But we have to teach them to fight . Did you know there wasn’t an at-sea commander? That each of the carrier skippers was in charge of their own battle-group and Draskovich was in command of the fleet?”

“Well, he’s the fleet commander, isn’t he?” Shar asked.

“No, he’s the North Atlantis commander,” Edmund said. “Was. He’s not supposed to oversee the entire battle. That’s what a fleet commander is for. And the skippers of the carriers are the skippers of the carriers . They’re not there to run a battle group. It’s like the entire concept of chain of command is gibberish to them. Micromanagement raised to the nth degree.”

“Is that what you called me up here for?” Chang said, motioning with his head at the new stars. “To be the ‘at-sea commander.’ ”

“Fleet commander,” Edmund corrected. “And to pick your brain. But you’re no more prepared for it than any of the rest of the captains. So what you’re going to be doing, in your munificent free time, is read. There’s a library here and from what I’ve been told by one of my ensigns, it’s brimming with good biographies. I want you to cram every biography of every fighting admiral you can read over the next week or so. And I mean every waking moment that you’re not working on something more important. I’d give you a list, but I don’t know what they have. Halsey, Nelson and Provock at the very least. Oh, and Ensign Van Krief has Slim’s biography. He’s a soldier, not a sailor, but I think you can learn some things from him. You up to it?”

“Reading biographies has never been at the top of my choice of how to spend my free time,” Chang said with a shrug. “But if you think it will help.”

“Immensely,” Edmund replied. “Now, I want to pick your brain. Not about the battle, but about managing the fleet. First of all, do we have to feed everyone salt beef? We’ve been starting to can stuff at Raven’s Mill and the legions are going in the direction of all canned materials. It’s coming on to harvest time; if we can set up a canning facility we should be able to can just about anything we want.”

“Well, canning for vegetables would be a good idea,” Shar replied. “But on the Hazhir we’ve got even better for meats; we’ve got a sub-zero freezer.”

“A freezer?” Edmund said. “Doesn’t that require electricity? And doesn’t the Net just suck it off?”

“No electricity involved,” Shar grinned. “Refrigeration just involves compressing gasses. All you need for that is pumps and piping. Evan found a good source for the pumps, right up the Gem River, and the piping is coming out of factories in quantity. Refitting the ships isn’t even particularly hard. You just insulate two holds and, presto, you’ve got refrigeration. Keeps meat for a treat. Even for the dragons.”