John Ringo - Against the Tide

“Herzer,” Edmund growled, warningly.

“I’m not even looking, much less touching.” The very young captain shrugged. “At least, I don’t think I’m looking. But we’re pretty divorced here from the town and Bast hasn’t shown up in a year or so. On the other hand, there’s always Estrelle.”

“Yes, there is,” Edmund said, pursing his lips. “I’ll admit that in your case, that doesn’t even bother me for some reason.”

“It does me, to tell the truth,” Herzer said with a shrug. “But that’s old history. And the one thing that you know is that if, for some odd reason, she’s got something more important to do, you’re not going to force her.”

Estrelle was the barmaid for Tarmac’s tavern, the oldest drinking establishment in Raven’s Mill. She was a homunculus, a nonsentient human replica. She was relatively short with long golden hair, high, firm breasts, a heart-shaped face and cornflower blue eyes. Her programming was to serve drinks, clean up, make very small talk and jump into bed with anyone that so much as suggested they might be interested, all other duties being covered of course. And because she was a homunculus, she was as strong as any three human males. Once when Herzer had gotten into a fight in the tavern she had picked the one-hundred-twenty-kilo soldier up off the ground and then wrapped him in a virtually unbreakable wrestling hold.

Edmund did not care for homunculi. He didn’t mind them as people, but he disliked the morality of their existence. He knew they were nonsentient. He knew they weren’t really human. But he still felt that it was a form of bondage slavery which did not sit well with him. Instead, before the Fall, he used nannite servants. Since the Fall he had had hired help who he tried, often despite their best efforts, to treat as his equals. He might have had this dukeship thrust down his throat, but it didn’t mean he had to like being an aristocrat.

Edmund sighed and shook his head.

“Well, that brings up the next little item. I’m going to need some staff to come along. Not much; I’m going to leave the army staff in place with General Ferraz. Which means drawing on the Academy or the Blood Lord facility. What I really need is a group of messengers, the original of aides. You’re going to be my primary aide but I want you there with me. Pick a few of your best and brightest. If they don’t make me grimace, they’re coming with us.”

“Okay,” Herzer said, frowning slightly. “I know a few that I’d choose but don’t get me wrong about one of them just cause she’s female.”

“I won’t; I trust your judgment,” Edmund said, “even when it comes to women.”

Herzer knocked on the door and entered at a female voice: “Clear.”

He looked around the room and grinned at the startled faces.

“Doing a little cross-pollination?” he asked and avoided grimacing at the unintended double entendre.

“Our engineering assignment is permissible as a group project, sir,” Ensign Van Krief answered after a moment. “And there are only two extant copies of Defeat Into Victory and American Caesar available, sir. We managed to snag both.”

“ American Caesar ?” Herzer asked.

“The biography of General MacArthur, sir,” Tao answered, getting dagger looks from the other two. “It covers the Inchon landing in some depth.”

“Interesting,” Herzer replied. “We’ll have to see if the library will let us borrow them on long-term loan.”

“Sir?” Destrang said.

“You’ve all been detailed to be General Talbot’s messengers,” Herzer replied. “I’ve got homework assignments from all of your instructors. It’s a headquarters assignment, but you’ll be riding, so pack dress and undress uniforms; we’re leaving in the -morning.”

“We, sir?” Van Krief said, her voice rising an octave to a near squeak.

“I’ve been detailed as his aide, for my sins.” Herzer grinned. “Not that I’m unfamiliar with the position. But bring your armor, as well. As I said, I’ve been on this sort of assignment before.”

The five of them, and their equipment, made a heavy load for the stage coach. But they all managed to pack it in by the time the scheduled departure arrived.

Duke Edmund gave his wife a hug before he boarded, then picked up the tow-haired child at her side.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said, giving the boy a squeeze.

The boy just looked at him from big, blue eyes and then gave him a hug back that was hard and swift. The child was beautiful, even by the standards of the time, with ears that were faintly pointed. He dropped to the ground lightly and grabbed his mother’s hand, working his face and clearly trying not to cry.

“Headquarters assignment,” Daneh said, pointing at Edmund. “That means you stay safe . Understood?”

“Understood, milady,” Edmund grinned.

“Herzer, too,” she said.

“Herzer, too,” the duke answered.

“We’ve got to board, boss,” Herzer said, stepping up and getting a hug from Daneh as well. “I’ll take care of him,” he said.

“Like you did the last time?” Daneh chuckled.

“He didn’t get a scratch,” Herzer replied, defiantly, then smiled. “Really, we’re going to be in Newfell Base. I won’t say ‘what can happen?’ but we’re not planning on going on an island vacation so how bad can it be?” He tousled the hair of the boy at her side and grinned. “Seeya brat.”

“Seeya, Herzer,” the boy replied. “Kill some bad guys.”

“I’ll try,” the captain replied, trying not to wince. “Gotta run.”

The five of them boarded the coach, which had barely room for six, and took their seats, the three ensigns squeezing in the forward, and therefore less comfortable, seats, with the captain and the general in the rear bench. As soon as they were on board the coachman called to his horses and with a wave from Daneh they were off.

“Okay,” Edmund said, looking across at the three ensigns, “let me get a few things straight. I’d tell you to call me Edmund, but that would just worry you and you’d probably slip up around the Navy, which has gotten really protocol ridden in a very short period of time. So it’s ‘Duke Edmund’ or ‘General Talbot.’ I brought you along for two reasons. The first is that I’m going to need messengers. The Navy has a good communications center but the nearest Army commo center is up at Gemtown Barracks. There’s going to be messages that I don’t want the Navy seeing, so you’re going to be carrying them to Gemtown, which is one hell of a ride. The other thing I want is eyes and ears. I want you to watch what the Navy’s doing and how they are doing it and, drawing upon your vast experience, finding things that you like or don’t like about what they do. I’ll probably ask for input from time to time but if something really springs out at you, bring it to me. Especially if you run across things that you think the Navy doesn’t want me to know. But what I don’t want is mouths. The admirals are some starchy sons of bitches. Herzer I’ll cover if he puts his foot in his mouth and I’ve got a reputation to maintain as an aggressive SOB. But you guys stand around with your eyes and ears open and your mouths shut. If you have anything for me, wait until we’re alone. Is all of that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” the three responded.

“Questions?”

“No, sir,” Van Krief responded after a moment. “I don’t know what to ask, sir.”

“Knowing that there are questions, but not what they are, is the beginning of wisdom, young lady,” Edmund said, aware that he was being pompous. “And in any case, we’re both in the same boat. I know that there are questions to be asked, but until I get the information I need to evaluate the situation, I don’t know what they are. And, yes, that bothers me as much as it does you. More.”