John Ringo - Against the Tide

“I’ll admit that this isn’t the first time this has happened to me,” Herzer said. “The duke is always like this; he never tells anyone anything he doesn’t absolutely have to. I even know the historical model he’s drawing it from. So I have an idea what he is doing. I still don’t have to like it.”

“I have no idea what he is doing,” Chansa said. “And I don’t like it.”

“We have reports on attacks on orca pods all over the ocean,” his aide replied, setting up an easel with a map on it. “Some of them have been from dragons, presumably, given the ranges, from carriers. If so, his carriers are wandering all over the ocean.”

“North? South? Where are the carriers? Which way are they going?”

“Other than from the attacks we can’t be sure,” the aide replied. “No orca has been able to get in range of the UFS fleet to see. But there is one attack that has occurred south of the anticipated path of our battle fleet and one that has occurred just south of the invasion fleet. There was even one that was in sight of Hibernia. Like I said, all over the ocean. And they’re slaughtering the orca.”

“Say that again?” Chansa growled.

“They’ve taken out about thirty percent of our orca, as well as about forty percent of the ixchitl. The dragons also appear to be attacking natural orca. The orcas are running scared, too. If they even get a hint of a dragon in the air, or a mer killer group moving in, they move out. They just can’t fight them in the water.”

“He’s trying to take out our eyes,” Chansa said. “What about communications from the agents in the Fleet?”

“They have no idea what is going on,” the aide admitted. “Nobody is being told where they are or what they are doing. Nobody, not even the officers. The captains of the carriers have orders, everyone else just follows.”

“I don’t trust it,” Chansa said. “When Edmund Talbot does something that doesn’t make sense, he’s planning something subtle. But what can he do? We’ve got him outnumbered with the combat fleet, and the invasion fleet has enough anti-dragon frigates to give his dragons a very nasty time. What in the hell is he planning?”

“What in the hell are you planning?” Shar asked.

“Not even to you, Shar,” Edmund replied with a faint smile.

“I’ve got forces scattered all over the ocean,” Shar pointed out. “We’re inviting defeat in detail.”

“Not as long as we know where their forces are,” Edmund pointed out. “And we do.”

“So do they ,” Chang replied. “Every time we take out a group of orca, it gives them a location for a carrier. Why are you telling them where we are?”

“Not even to you, Shar,” Edmund repeated. “But you might want to catch up on your reading.”

“Okay, we’re going to have to do something about this,” Chansa said after a long moment’s thought. “We can’t lose all our orcas. Detach… detach three carriers from the Blackbeard task force,” he continued, rubbing his chin and looking at the map. “Send a large orca group, three pods, towards this southernmost attack. Tell them to find the carrier, find the dragon outriders, and lead them back to our carriers.”

“That will only leave two carriers for the attack on Blackbeard,” the aide pointed out.

“Blackbeard doesn’t have any dragons to speak of,” the marshal replied. “And there are more than enough Changed to destroy the company of Blood Lords there. Send out the orders. There’s a lone carrier out there. Find it. Destroy it. I’ll teach him to play games with me.”

“You wanna play games?” Herzer asked the wyvern deck leading PO. “I’m a master of playing games.”

Saturday morning had become the traditional day for the skipper to inspect the ship. And as with all such inspections, there was a preinspection conducted by the ship’s XO. And a pre-preinspection conducted by the various officers and NCOs in charge of different areas of the ship.

In Herzer’s case that meant an inspection, just after dawn, of all the areas relating to the care and feeding of the wyverns and their riders. He’d inspected the riders’ head, the food storage areas, the food preparation areas, the ground crew quarters, the riders’ quarters and the riders’ officers’ quarters. And he’d made clear that no matter how early, when he came through, shit had better be straight . He was a product of the Blood Lords and Blood Lords accepted no excuses.

Most of them had needed some minor improvement. The enlisted head had some trash hidden they thought he’d miss. He didn’t. The enlisted quarters had nonregulation materials they thought they’d hidden well enough. They hadn’t. A few of the crew had thought that a properly made bunk meant dirty linen and sloppy folds. That was being corrected. But that was all minor. It was important at a certain level to nitpick; if they were sloppy about something as simple as making a bed, they were liable to think they could be sloppy in important areas. That was the point to inspections.

A point that had apparently been lost on the wyvern deck division.

“Look at this,” Herzer said, dragging the PO into one of the wyvern pens and pushing the dragon to the side. In the corner was a build-up of filth with a nasty yellow fungus growing on it. Wyverns were generally polite enough to let go of their messes when they were in flight. But when they were penned up for too long, such as during a storm, that wasn’t possible. And when they succumbed to seasickness, and they were nearly as susceptible as humans, all hell broke loose. At both ends.

There were pumps and drains to handle the mess; Herzer had learned about them the hard way on his previous cruise. But it left quite a bit of junk in its wake. Mostly secreted in hard to reach places. However, those places were supposed to be cleaned as soon as practicable.

“Sir, it’s hard to get in the pens when…”

“That’s been there for weeks , PO,” Herzer said. “You can tell by the build-up. I’m upset with myself for not having already found it. And this isn’t the only pen.”

The wyvern took that moment to let out a mew and poke at the PO, who practically jumped out of her skin.

“Sir…”

“Petty Officer Riebech, this wyvern is recently fed. It is not going to eat you. Pet it on the head and then push its muzzle away and it’ll leave you alone. Whap it on the nose if it doesn’t take the hint.”

The PO rubbed at its head briefly and then pushed it away, backing herself into a corner more than pushing.

“PO,” Herzer sighed, “this fungus can get into dragon skin that has been damaged, such as from enemy action. It’s a damned hard to stop fungal infection. These pens have to be clean . Not just swabbed outÑcleaned out down to the wood. Every time it is possible. Which means when we’re on operations. And if you can’t do it then, then lead the wyverns out and do it. They can stand in the corridor or you can move them on deck.”

“Yes, sir,” the PO said miserably.

“Clean enough to eat off of,” Herzer said. “Which is what you’re going to do.”

“Sir?”

“For the next week, every member of your division will be taking their meals in the wyvern stalls.”

“Sir…”

“I’m dead serious, PO. I think that that will give you an idea of how clean they have to be. I’d suggest that you get started with this one before the CO sees its condition. And you just might want to use some bleach…”

“Bein’ kind of harsh to my troops, ain’t you XO?” Joanna asked quietly as the crewmen led the wyvern out and began recleaning the stall. Of course the deck would then have to be sanded. Herzer hoped like hell that they’d clean all the stalls then sand the decks; they didn’t have time for them to do it any other way.