John Ringo - Emerald Sea

“We have pods of orca that are allied with us,” Conner said. “Surely they can deal with the mer.”

“The mer and the delphinos have a long-term friendship,” Chansa said. “The delphinos, in turn, are well thought of by those few idiots that have turned themselves into true whales. And the latter travel throughout the oceans. Between those groups they will know, to a minute, where our ships are. It’s important that they are neutralized. And I mean totally neutralized; either on our side or unable to affect us. The invasion fleet is going to be on the ragged edge of possibility as it is. The mer have to be taken out of the equation.”

“I see,” the agent said, apparently doodling. “Where are the mer at this time and what assets do we have in place? For that matter, I’ll need access to power for communications and a budget, not to mention updated intelligence.”

“I can give you everything except the power,” Chansa said. “Since that idiot McCanoc got himself killed, that’s been in short supply; even we council members are limited.”

“Well, it will be quite impossible to perform my job without power, my lord,” the agent said, closing the pad. “And there are other things. To get to the mer will require ships. I’ll need soldiers as well as contacts with the orca. And the way that I work, my lord, is that you tell me what needs to be done and I do it. My own way.”

“That’s pretty damned impertinent,” Chansa said, flexing his jaw.

“I’m sorry if you feel that way, my lord,” the agent said. “But that’s the way that I work.”

“Why don’t you get your power from the Demon?” Chansa temporized.

“I don’t work for Milord Demon, sir,” the agent said with a sincere smile. “I work for you. Asking him for power would be impertinence. And he can be so direct about such things.”

Chansa chuckled and nodded.

“I’ll get you a list of what’s available. Find yourself an office; there’s all sorts in this warren. Give me a list, a reasonable list, from that. And besides the orcas, I’ve talked to Celine and we have some special assistants for you. After that you’re on your own. You’d better be worth it.”

“I’m sure that I’ll be worthy of the trust you place in me, my lord,” Conner said.

“I’m not,” Chansa replied. “Now get.”

The one problem with the portal was that you couldn’t see who was on the far side; it was simply a shimmering wall of opalescent light. As Joel approached it he wondered who all the people going in and out of the house were and, for that matter, how they were cleared for entry. As far as he could see, anyone who reached the town could use the portal to penetrate Sheida’s innermost sanctum. He was sure there was security on the passage, but what and how had not been discussed.

There was a short line waiting to pass through and he joined it, nodding at the woman in front of him.

“You’re new,” the slightly built woman said. She was barely up to Joel’s chest in height.

“Just passing through,” Joel replied. “I had a meeting with Harry about improving the logistics.”

“Not much to be done with just the one entry,” the woman sniffed. “Getting fresh food in and out is real bother.”

“You’re a cook?” he asked, automatically fishing for information.

“For Herself,” the woman replied with a note of pride. “I’m on my way out to have a word with the butcher. The last load of meat was simply dreadful. Not that Herself eats much, she eats like a bird to tell truth, it’s really terrible. I try to get her to eat more but even my best pastries she barely nibbles. It’s a real shame.”

“Do you cook for the rest of the complex?” Joel asked as the line moved forward.

“I’m one of the cooks, but I’m mainly to supply Herself,” the woman said. “Sometimes when she has a big meeting I’ll take charge of that. There’s a head ‘chef’ but he’s such a pain, a real prima donna if you know what I mean.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But when they do have a big party it’s a real pain. First getting everything through on portal and then getting all the guests in and out. You have no idea how much food it takes for a big party, oh, but I guess you do if you handle logistics?”

“Rather large parties, yes,” Joel said with an amiable grin. “But I just do paperwork, you know. I don’t have to do the cooking.”

“Well, you have no idea. I mean, at least we have a decent kitchen but it’s still too small and the stoves could use a good upgrade. Fortunately I’d made a study of real cooking before the Fall. None of this three sprigs of over-spiced carrot and a piece of chicken the size of your thumb, no sirree…”

After they passed through the portal into the receiving room Joel managed to extract himself from the woman and mentally groaned. He wasn’t sure who was in charge of Sheida’s counterintelligence but it left a great deal to be desired. These people simply didn’t think in terms of security. That her senior cook wandered in and out talking to any stranger was bad enough. But if there wasn’t a good filter on the portal anyone could go in and out. Or anything. Slipping a toxin into the food would be no problem. A time-release binary would take down everyone in the complex.

He was half tempted to turn around and go see Sheida about it but after a moment’s thought he decided to continue the mission. He’d be reporting at some point and he could ask her, or one of her avatars, about it later.

He looked up the “transportation coordinator” and found out that his dragon wouldn’t be leaving until late morning the next day. With that information, and where to meet the dragon, he set off into the town.

Like most of the post-Fall towns, new construction was evident. Most of it was packed earth, what was called adobe in other areas. Chian was at the base of the western mountain ranges where they met the plains, drawing from both areas. The town was filled with herdsmen from the plains, most of them wearing rough bison coats against the early fall cold, and people that he designated “townies.” After casting around for a bit he found a money changer. The building was one of the few made of stone and obviously old, not only pre-Fall but probably from the semimythical “settlement” period. There were guards armed with short swords and they frowned at him as he stepped through the open door.

The interior was dim, lit only by small windows set high on the walls. He waited for his eyes to adjust, then walked over to the barred counter at the end.

“I’d like to change some gold for credit chits and some chunk silver,” he said to the woman behind the counter.

“Let’s see it,” the woman replied, pulling out a scale and jeweler’s loupe.

He slid over one of the chunks of gold, wondering if they’d ID him as from Sheida.

“Federal mint,” the woman frowned after a glance at the imprint on the bar. “We haven’t seen many of these.”

“Neither have I,” Joel replied with his patented vapid smile. “I did some contract work for the Federals and that’s what they paid me with.”

“I still need to assay it.” The woman sniffed. She rubbed the metal on an emery block, then dropped a solvent on it. There was a brief hiss and she compared the color to a chart. She gave another sniff and put the gold on a scale, frowning all the while. Finally she looked up with a reduced frown.

“There’s a fixed value on these,” she said, rummaging in a drawer until she pulled out a sheet of paper. She compared the date, then shrugged. “Four hundred twenty-three credits.”

“Close enough for government work,” Joel replied. “I need it in as small a package as possible.”