John Ringo - Against the Tide

“Fucking show-off,” Joanna chuckled.

“I didn’t know they could do that,” Herzer said, still looking up at the dragon above.

“Neither did I,” said Skipper Karcher. “I wonder how long she can hang like that?”

“Well, if we don’t get started, ma’am, we may find out the hard way,” Herzer pointed out as the other Silverdrake started climbing the rigging. He’d been surprised at Karcher’s sudden appearance, she had been in pri-fly just a second ago, but tried to avoid showing it. The skipper had the uncanny ability to simply appear; even with his keen hearing he never heard her walking up. And she didn’t just walk; he’d seen her drop from the rigging a good ten meters and land on the balls of her feet, silently.

“Good point,” Karcher said.

“Fleet’s signaling, ma’am,” the signal midshipman called. “Prepare for air-operations, tack.”

“Major Sassan, prepare to come into the wind!” Karcher said, making a seemingly impossible leap upwards to a ratline, then flinging herself across open air back into pri-fly. The only person Herzer had ever seen move like that was Bast. He suddenly wondered how many cat genes there were in wood elves.

As the fleet tacked into the wind the carriers began launching their dragons. Joanna was very nearly the first in the air and she headed for altitude faster than the wyverns, forming up in a lazy figure eight over the carrier.

“Come on up,” she signaled, “the air’s fine.”

If Edmund thought he could catch up on his paperwork at sea he was wrong; dispatch sloops were cheap.

“Shar, this is insane,” Edmund said as the admiral stepped into the room and tossed his beret on the desk. He was carrying a heavy bag, which he set on the floor.

“And you’re not even looking at what I stopped,” Shar noted. The admiral and his staff had been “filtering” the material sent to Edmund. Edmund had ensured that they knew what to filter, but the remainder was still a heavy load.

“I know, I’m looking at what you couldn’t stop,” Edmund growled. “There are requests for clarification from Congress on things we had settled a month ago. Buships wants to know why we’re ordering heavier standing rigging. When I told them, they flipped a lid.”

“I know, they don’t want the crosstrees weighted by the wyverns,” Shar said. “It does make the sailing a tad tougher. Be bad in a storm.”

“The Silverdrake can’t hang up there in a storm,” Edmund noted.

“Storms come up fast sometimes,” Shar explained. “You want my suggestion, send them Wellington’s answer.”

“Wellington’s answer?” Edmund said.

“What, you’ve never heard of Wellington’s response in the Spanish Campaign?” the admiral said with a chuckle.

“No,” Edmund admitted. “I know quite a bit about Wellington, fine guy, several of his quotes have been badly mangled over the years. But that’s a new one on me. Do tell.”

“Basically he sent a message back to the army high command to the effect that he was being asked too many stupid questions. Especially about supply issues. ‘I can win battles or count nails, not both.’ ”

“Hah!” Edmund snorted. “Okay, find me the original. I’ll quote it with a copy to the Armed Services committee, that pack of goat-riding nitwits, Navy command, Buships and Sheida. Thanks. What’s in the bag?”

“Last word we had is that the New Destiny fleet hasn’t sailed yet, right?” Shar said, pulling a large metal device from the bag. It had a dial on one side and the other had a complicated clamping arrangement.

“Nope. Looks like they don’t have their act together as well as we do. Thank God for Ennesby and Trahn.”

“Well, this is one way to even up the odds a bit, Evan’s latest marvel.” Chang turned the dial slightly and set the device on the desk, face up. After a moment a large spike sprung out, hard.

“What are we spiking?” Edmund asked, touching the tip. It was partially hollow. “And what are we squirting?”

“Ships,” Shar said with a grin. “And concentrated acid. The spike drives into the wood and squirts out acid under pressure. If it doesn’t penetrate the hull, the acid is still going to dissolve a big hole. If it does penetrate the hull, and it isn’t in the bilges, it’s going to burn out a hole big enough that it will sink the ship with luck. Put it in dry dock at the least.”

“Very nice,” Edmund said, dryly. “You know the story about when the Navy tried to come up with something like this?”

“No, I was in durance-not-so-vile in Blackbeard,” Shar said. “Do tell.”

“There’s a group of companies that have set up around Washan. They get contracts for various things related to the military, sutlers, designers, that sort of thing. Anyway, the Navy went to one of those companies and had it design a mine. The company spent a year and the mine they came up with was three times that size and didn’t work. And Evan came up with this in, what? A week?”

Shar laughed and shook his head.

“I take it this is the answer to how the mer can do more than just handle recon and communications,” Edmund asked.

“What do you think?”

“I think I wouldn’t want to be a mer carrying one of these things into harbor,” Edmund said and sighed. “Not with orca and ixchitl screening the entrance. But then, I’m old and aware of my mortality. Volunteers only. And we’ll have to get a ship in close to carry them.”

“Not necessarily,” Chang said with a shrug. “We can load a few of them on a whale and have him carry them into the area. Then have the mer cross-load for the rest of the distance.”

“However you want to do it,” Edmund said.

“You’re not happy about it,” Shar said.

“No, I’m not,” Edmund admitted. “It’s going to be a nearly suicidal mission. If we lose a few mer and take out a carrier or two, that’s good casualty ratio. I still don’t care for it. It’s a good idea, though, so run with it.”

“You have a point,” Shar said.

“And keep it very close to your vest,” Edmund added. “Need to know only. We’re still leaking information like a sieve.”

“You rang, Joel?”

Sheida’s projection was hanging in midair and looked impatient.

“Indeed,” Travante replied. “I’m trying to track down some New Destiny agents with the fleet. Unfortunately Conner has apparently gotten very canny with his communications. My agents have been attempting to localize them with Evan’s devices, so far with no success. I need something a bit more technological. Sorry.”

Avatars gave off a mild electromagnetic field. Evan Mayerle had used that fact to trace down a New Destiny agent on board the Bonhomme Richard during the diplomatic mission to the mer. However, the traces were faint and if the communication was brief and random it was nearly impossible to find them with the relatively low-tech methods available.

“I’ll ken some devices for your agents,” Sheida said with a sigh. “Which ships?”

“The Bonhomme Richard, again, the Alida Diaconescu and the Hazhir.”

“I’ve never heard of the Diaconescu ,” Sheida temporized.

“It’s one of the dreadnoughts that was converted to an anti-dragon platform,” Joel explained. “That and the Hazhir are the ones that I’m bothered by the most, frankly. If someone’s on the Diacon they can be giving out designs and specs for the new guns, not just that we have them. And the Hazhir is a new source, a brand new one. I’d like to squelch it as soon as possible.”

“I’ll need contact information for your agents,” Sheida pointed out. “What news on the attack on Edmund?”