John Ringo: Against the Tide

There were never enough of the latter, though. Great dragons were not a permitted Change under the protocols that still held post-Fall. They were survivors of a race that had been created in the heyday of genetic manipulation. A race that, while long-lived, had slowly dwindled in the millennia before the Fall until there were but a handful left on earth. They were intelligent, unlike the wyverns that made up the bulk of both sides’ air arm, and just as inventive about destruction as humans. They also were, by and large, mercenaries, unlike the riders of the wyverns who were all UFS officers or enlisted.

But with five carriers in the UFS fleet, they could gut any potential invasion by New Destiny. If they were around to gut it.

“That’s my take as well,” Edmund said. “The fleet has moved to engage them, though. Current reports are that they are ‘highly confident’ of success.”

“Overconfident?” Herzer asked. “New Destiny has carriers of their own, and Marshal Chansa, while a bastard, is not a dummy. He wouldn’t be courting action if he thought he was going to lose.”

“Again, you’re reading my mind,” Edmund said, grimly. “But I’m Eastern Land Command. North Atlantis Command is Admiral Draskovich. I’m not a member of the Balmoran Yacht Club.”

“Now, there you’ve lost me,” Herzer replied, setting down the empty cup.

“More?” Edmund asked.

“No, save it for later,” Herzer said. “What is the Balmoran Yacht Club and what does it have to do with anything?”

“I got it in a letter from Shar,” the general replied, reaching into his desk and pulling out a sheet of paper covered in a crabbed, rectangular hand. “He’s not happy where he is.”

“Personally, I’d love to be at Blackbeard Base.” Herzer grinned. The Fleet base at Bimi island was the home of the mer-people. Since their children were born on land, and were unable to breathe water for at least a year, they had, with some reluctance, given over the protection of their children and new mothers to the UFS forces. For the Blood Lords, who were the chosen guards, it was something of a sinecure; the base was in a pleasant tropical setting and all they had to do was keep in training and make sure no one messed with the mer-children. Off duty there were reefs to explore, fishing, easy access to the island’s strong rum and occasional flings with mermaids and naval personnel. The Blood Lords’ senior NCO, Sergeant Major Arthur “Gunny” Rutherford, had been semiretired to the posting.

The mer, in turn, skirmished on the front lines of the current conflict, working with the dolphin-form Changed humans called delphinos to watch over the harbors in which the invasion fleet was being prepared. Their enemies were New Destiny’s allies among the Changed orcas and ixchitl, manta-raylike beings with shark-mouths and belly harpoons containing a paralyzing neurotoxin. But they continued to skirmish, and watch, in pledge of the protective shield that the UFS maintained over their children. There was a monetary transfer involved, as well. But at heart it was a bond of honor that neither side would break short of death. Certainly not while Herzer or Edmund, who had bled by the side of the mer and delphinos, were alive.

Colonel, now Brigadier General, Shar Chang had been the captain of the experimental dragon-carrier that had carried them on that blood-filled mission of diplomacy. Herzer called him to mind now, a tightly muscled man with eyes crinkled from looking over the bow of a ship. He had been a sailor before the Fall, taking groups out on “tall ships” to give them a taste of old sea life. It was that experience with multimasted ships that had led to his command of the first dragon-carrier. And Herzer had assumed that his experience in dealing with the mer had led to his assignment as the commander of Blackbeard Base.

“Well, I’d thought that Shar would feel the same way,” Edmund replied, seriously. “But I was wrong. I’d picked up on some of the politics before, but he finally wrote me a letter that lays it all out, at least from his end. When Sheida became convinced she needed a navy, after I pointed out that control of the sea-lanes was going to be vital, she tapped the only person she knew, Bob Houser, to be the guy to set it up.

“Now, Admiral Houser is a fine guy, but his connection to the sea was racing yachts, specifically from…”

“The Balmoran Yacht Club?” Herzer asked.

“You got it. They’d have races and regattas with other yacht clubs and it was very much a club; you only got in if you were the right kind of people. Invitation only. Now, naturally, Houser drew mostly on people that he knew. But there weren’t enough ‘right’ people to fill all the slots, certainly not ones who survived the Fall and the Dying Time. So, for really obvious reasons that he knew and trusted some people and didn’t know or trust others, all the plum assignments went to guys from the yacht clubs.”

“General Chang wasn’t from one of the yacht clubs,” Herzer said, puzzled. “What was he doing in charge of the dragon-carrier?”

“Dragon-carriers had been, more or less, an order from Olympus,” Edmund said with a grin. “Sheida said: I’ve got dragons and I’ve got ships. Let’s put them together. The admirals from the yacht club, though, thought it was a terrible idea. They were working on various ballista and trebuchet boats, ships designed to do damage at short range and then board with marines. They’d even requested that they be given command of the Blood Lords and retrain them for boarding.”

“Grand,” Herzer said, dryly.

“But when the carrier took out six ships, five of them without ever coming in sight of the enemy, much less letting them get a chance to counterattack…”

“All of a sudden,” Herzer frowned, “carriers got important.”

“And all the new carrier commands go to the yacht guys, and Shar, who is their most successful carrier commander, is shuffled off to a minor base to guard babies.”

“The mer are bloody important,” Herzer said. “No mer, no delphinos; those two are bound like glue. No delphinos, no whalos, because the whales don’t talk to us, can’t most of the time. No whales and their intelligence system is gone, their -communcations… The key to that is Blackbeard Base. I’d thought they were sending him there because he was their best man. Not, in their eyes, the one they could afford to lose the most. Are they idiots ?”

“No, they’re just very shortsighted.” Edmund sighed. “I think it’s coming to a head with this plan to forward engage Paul’s fleet. I wasn’t even copied on the information; Sheida asked me about it because it struck her as wrong. If Paul wants to destroy the carriers, why put them in harm’s way? Why not find out what’s going on at the very least?”

“They’ve got surface units,” Herzer said. “Frigates and cruisers. I’d send them in and try to find out what they’ve got. It’s brutal, but even if you lost a few, you’d get intel on their capabilities. Launch wyverns for long-range penetration; just probe them. Stick and move until you know what’s what. They’ve got time and sea-room.”

“The current plan is a straight head-to-head clash, probably off the Onay Islands” Edmund smiled, dryly. “I’m not getting their intel so I can’t make an informed judgment. But it doesn’t make sense to me, either. Sheida, therefore, has ordered me to move my flag to Newfell Fortress.”

“So I take it I’m off the roster of instructors at the Academy,” Herzer said.

“Call it temporary duty,” Edmund replied. “You look displeased.”

“I was enjoying it, tell truth,” Herzer replied, then grinned. “Some of those ensigns are real lookers.”