John Ringo - Against the Tide

“And the dreadnoughts?”

“More like nine days,” Ennesby said with a shrug. “More work to do and there’s a shortage of materials and trained personnel to work with what we’ve got. But since we’re not refitting their holds, just surface work, they can crew and load while we’re doing the final work.”

“Those ships don’t even have crews,” the G-1 almost wailed. “Or captains. Or petty officers.”

“Find them,” Edmund said. “Strip the merchant ships if necessary. I don’t care if you use a press-gang. Find them. We’re going to sail shorthanded. That’s a given. We’re still going to come out of the battle with at least a draw, probably a win. I know that because I don’t lose battles. Ever. And get it through your heads that you’re not going to lose them either.”

As the staff filed out Edmund continued looking at his briefing papers, only looking up when General Babak cleared his throat.

“Yes, General?” Edmund said, mildly.

“Admiral, I don’t think I can do this job,” Babak said, bluntly. “I didn’t want it in the first place. I’m a sailor. I can command a ship, but you were right, I don’t know the first damned thing about running a war. I want to demote to captain. The Corvallis ’ XO is green as they come and there’s nobody else around that knows ships as well as I do.”

Edmund leaned back and rubbed his head with his hand, sighing.

“Request denied,” he said and raised his hand to forestall the immediate response. “Can you command a ship? Sure. You’re a good sailor. Okay. But I’ve met your deputy. And he’s no more trained for this than you are. I don’t put that on your shoulders, I put it on Bob Houser’s and to an extent Sheida’s. You guys should have been being trained in the theory at least before now. But the bottom line is that there’s nobody to replace you where you are. And you have at least gotten a grasp of what your job is. If I replaced you, your replacement would have to be told what operations are . You think you’re the lone ranger? I want a field command again. Not this… ‘North Atlantis Command’ nightmare. I want a regiment, maybe a battalion. I want to interact with soldiers and deal with their problems and train them up. And then use them in battle. It’s what I really love, not this…” He gestured at the paperwork in front of him. “Not this crap . But we go where we have to go and do what we have to do because that is what being in the military is about. And I said, ‘if I have to learn you one by one’ and I meant it. One of the things is, there used to be a term called ‘thinking outside the box.’ You know what I mean?”

“No,” Babak said, sitting down.

“Okay, in brief, what’s your current plan for a battle?”

“We locate the enemy fleet, move in range, launch dragons and hope we can keep their dragons off of ours.”

“Have you been looking at Vickie Toweeoo’s Silverdrake plan?”

“Quite a bit,” Babak said. “The problem is, if we put Silverdrake on the carriers, we lose space for Powells and our total bomb-load will drop by a huge fraction.”

“Why are you basing them on the carriers?” Edmund asked.

Babak shrugged and smiled.

“Dragon. Carrier,” he said, gesturing with one hand and then the other then putting both together. “Dragon-carrier. That’s what they’re for .”

“Uh, huh,” Edmund grunted. “Been talking to Vickie?”

“No, sir,” Babak admitted. “I didn’t know you knew her.”

“We’ve met,” Edmund replied. “What do you know about Silverdrake?”

“They’re smaller than Powells, lighter, faster, more maneuverable and don’t have much endurance,” the G-3 replied.

“More maneuverable,” Edmund pointed out. “How fast do you think the shipyards, hell, not even the shipyards, the ships’ crews, could put some sort of landing platform on the back of the ballista frigates?”

“You’re thinking of sending them out on the frigates ?”

“I don’t know,” Edmund replied. “But it’s one possible answer. They don’t eat as much as the Powells but they’re going to cut into the frigates’ stores some. On the other hand, we’re going to be sending out supplemental resupply ships with the fleet this time. Okay, the Powells take off and they attack the fleet. How?”

“Each division will be assigned a carrier to attack,” Babak said. “We’ll probably have them go in high to avoid the ballista ships.”

“Why attack the carriers?” Edmund asked.

“They’re the main threat from the fleet,” Babak pointed out.

“Which are hard to destroy in the face of the anti-dragon frigates,” Edmund said, calmly. “You see what I’m driving at. Check your assumptions. Does taking out the carriers first work better than taking out the frigates? Do we carry enough bomb-load to fight a prolonged battle? Why have all the dragons scattered over the fleet? Why not concentrate the whole force on individual ships? Is there some way for the mer, delphinos or selkie to attack? Is there some optimum formation for our ships whereby they can give cover to the carriers, and each other? Circles? Squares? Staggered lines? What happens if they punch their invasion fleet at the same time as their main fleet? These are questions that your staff should be asking each other and you should be asking them. And then you get the answers, or the best guesses you can come up with.”

“Think outside the box,” Babak said, nodding.

“Think outside the box,” Edmund said with a smile. “Speed above all else, surprise above all else, utter ruthlessness.”

“Sounds like a quote,” Babak said, half questioning.

“It is, from one of the greatest generals of all time,” Edmund replied. “Major outside the box thinker. And an utter bastard.” He grinned. “Just like me.”

“Now that is a bastard weapon,” Shar Chang said.

The device on the workbench consisted of five narrow metal tubes attached to a large metal cylinder. There were a series of linkages set off to one side.

Chang picked up the device and hefted it, swearing.

“Damn, it must weigh eighty kilos.”

“Seventy-three point four,” Evan said, nervously. “Loaded and ready to fire. In its current state it’s closer to seventy.”

“And it works?”

“It should,” Evan replied. “It’s in the weight range of the Silverdrake with a small rider. There’s no effective way we can determine to aim it, however, so they’ll have to close to point-blank range.”

“And the best place to cripple a dragon is in the primary muscles,” Vickie Toweeoo pointed out. She wore new major’s pips and her leather uniform now sported a Jolly Roger patch. “Which means a frontal approach. Technically the best shot would be to fly directly at the dragon and roll for firing. But I don’t think we’re going to be doing that much.”

“One of these in the leg or the rear end is not going to make their dragons very happy,” Shar pointed out. “It would be safer to close from the rear.”

“We’ll have to see, won’t we, sir?” Vickie replied with a grin. “What I’m wondering about is training. Most of the Silverdrake riders have volunteered for sea duty. I’m not surprised, we’re a bit more… weird than Powell lovers.”

“You’ve been riding Powells the whole war,” Shar pointed out.

“That’s because it was all we were using,” Vickie said and grinned again. “But I’m a Silverdrake rider at heart. Powells are too slow and clumsy.”

Having had some heart-stopping rides on the “slow and clumsy” wyverns, Shar was pleased that he’d never have to ride a Silverdrake.