"I hate working in this harum-scarum fashion," Piet admitted.
"So do I," Edmund said. "But that's why you focus on victory and plan for defeat. I'm sorry, but the fleet under Admiral Draskovich did not plan for defeat. There weren't any alternate plans, there wasn't a fall-back plan, there wasn't any slack in the system. Not even any personnel or material reserves to speak of. There are times to move without a reserve, but not when you're in a battle that you have foreseen for a year. When I'm done, this place is going to have the wherewithal to survive another defeat and go back out as many times as necessary to eventually win the war. But right now I'm fixing another man's abortion. That's messy and sickening and all that you can do is hope for the best and plan for the worst. So if what you've got is good enough, go with it. Good enough is really all we can hope for."
* * *
"Edmund," Sheida said.
Edmund glanced up from his paperwork and looked at the clock on the table across the tent. It was nearing midnight and he felt stiff and cramped from, literally, hours of sitting in the same chair. It wasn't even a comfortable chair. Something he'd been secretly proud of when he had it installed. Now he regretted his grandstanding.
"Sheida." He sighed. He looked at his former lover and shook his head. "If this is power, it's for the birds. You look like you've aged twenty years in the last four."
"So do you, Edmund," Sheida said with a grimace. "And isn't it a bit late?"
"Needs must," he said, waving at the table. "This place is a zoo."
"A very expensive zoo," Sheida said. "The legislature is balking at your request for increased funding."
"No surprise that." Edmund frowned, rubbing his head. "But we have to gain control of the sea and that means more men and more ships. And those men and ships are going to suffer, be lost, which will mean more men and ships. We have to have the funds, Sheida." He gestured at the paperwork before him and shook his head. "Half of this crap is people screaming at me over money. 'Out of budget construction,' 'invalid materials use,' these people wouldn't know a battle if it bit them in the ass and they're asking me to account for every damned nail that goes in a ship. And why it has to go in a ship. Well, the reason is, the more of the bastards we kill at sea, the fewer will be around to kill us on land. Think you can get that through their heads?"
"Politics," Sheida said with a bitter chuckle. "All that money running from one area to another. The Kent wants to form a legion. The Kent of all places." The Kentian plains had been famous, before the Fall, for their horse herds and after the Fall the fame had just increased.
"That's going to be a moot point," Edmund said.
"Oh?"
"I submitted a study to the Ministry calling for federal cavalry brigades. As far as I can tell, they're sitting on it. So I sent Kane down to the Kent to get the ball rolling, oh, six months ago or so. Either the local representative is dealing with information lag, or he's unaware that a cavalry brigade is going to mean more money to the area than a legion."
"How's it going?" Sheida asked.
"Last I heard, pretty good," Edmund admitted. "Most of them aren't as good of horsemen as they have to be for cavalry, but Kane and I worked out a pretty intensive basic training for them. They won't be elite by any stretch of the imagination and no horse bowmen, but they're going to be all right. And disciplined, damnit. When I call in cavalry I want it to go where I tell it, not haring off any old way it pleases."
"And then there's the Fleet," Sheida pointed out. "Everyone is balking at that, but mostly the people on the coast. All the money is going to Newfell, which has damned little representation in the House."
"I've got a fix for that one, too," Edmund frowned. "There's no reason that all the ships have to be built here and plenty of reason for them not to be. The smoldering remains of our shipyards speak for themselves. I'll send a memo to Admiral Houser recommending the establishment of at least two more bases. One of them probably at Balmoran and the other at. well, wherever you think best. Politically. Just has to be a good harbor. And we'll farm out the ship construction to shipyards all along the coast; spread that money around at least. Better?"
"I can work with that." Sheida nodded. "Of course, Admiral Houser has to approve it."
"Of course," Edmund chuckled. "Isn't that what chain-of-command is for?"
Chapter Fourteen
When Edmund woke up it was bright daylight. He started to roll to his feet, angry that no one had awoken him before dawn, and noticed that he was not alone in bed. From the red hair and the shape of the shoulder either his wife or his daughter had crawled in next to him sometime in the night. He really, really hoped it was Daneh. Rachel had gotten far too old to share a bed with daddy.
"Good morning," Daneh said, rolling over sleepily.
"Late morning," Edmund said, trying not to snarl.
"I know," Daneh replied, leaning over to kiss him. "And you've got morning breath. Don't flay Destrang alive; I told him that you weren't to be wakened. You've been driving yourself into the ground and as your doctor I ordered some additional bed rest. Not to mention as your wife."
"Destrang's supposed to take orders from me," Edmund growled, rolling to the edge of the bed and getting his feet out of the covers. But he had to admit that the extra sleep had done him some good.
"And he trusted that I'd keep you from coming down on him like a ton of bricks," Daneh said, sliding across the not particularly large bed and grabbing him by his hair. "And you're not going to. As a matter of fact, you don't have another appointment for." She glanced at the clock across the room and smiled. "Two hours. Now that I've rearranged your schedule. So if you think you're leaping out of bed this minute, you'd better have another think coming." She pulled his head back until he was lying down again, looking up at her upside down.
"You did mention morning breath," Edmund replied.
"Have an apple."
* * *
"Good morning, seaman," Edmund said, striding down to the docks. "Have an apple," he added, tossing one to the surprised messenger. "They're good for you."
"Morning, sir," Ensign Destrang said, nervously.
"Morning, Destrang," Edmund replied, smiling at him. "What've you got?"
"Lieutenant Asfaw asked to talk to you, sir," Destrang replied, gesturing at the mer.
"Did you get a chair or something, Asfaw?" Edmund asked.
"Yes, sir, thank you," the mer replied. There were also more mer in the basin, swimming around below. "The engineers poured a sort of underwater pier for us. Very handy. As are the additional listeners."
"And what was it you wanted to talk about?" Edmund asked, snagging a chair.
"Well." Asfaw looked around nervously but then shrugged. "We, the mer that is, aren't doing much good in this war, sir."
"I think your reconnaissance, not to mention your weather monitoring and communications uses, are invaluable," Edmund said, frowning. "Don't get the idea we don't need you."
"No, sir, not that," Asfaw said. "It's just. we can't attack anything. Except the orca and ixchitl. And even then we kept getting told that recon is more important than fighting orca. But with the orca around, we can't recon. We want to help. Or, I guess, help more."
"There were some experiments with boring," Edmund said. "Didn't work very well. And mines are out for all the same damned reasons."
"I was wondering," Asfaw said. "Well, I mean, sometimes the message traffic is light and all I can do is sit in the water and watch the occasional fish, sir. So I have a lot of time to wonder. Maybe if the queen could permit a bit of power we could make some sort of biological? A fast wood-worm or something that dissolves hulls?"
"If it got loose it would be the death of maritime traffic," Edmund said, rubbing his jaw. "No, protocols would prevent it reproducing if it was that dangerous. But maybe." Edmund glanced at the sun and sneezed. "I'm going to be talking to Evan in a couple of hours. I'll bring it up with him. Maybe he or one of his engineer buddies can come up with something."
"What about the orcas?" the lieutenant asked.
"You'll have to run that one by me again," Edmund said. "I'll admit I'm a bit tired. Why can't you attack the orcas?"
"Our orders are to avoid contact. We're supposed to be recon forces is what they keep saying. But we can't always avoid contact and Jason thinks we can get rid of some of the damned orca and ixchitl, if we can just get the support."
"That's it?" Edmund asked. "What kind of support?"
"Nothing more than we're getting, really," the mer admitted. "Some more weapons, maybe some support ships. But we'll probably take more casualties."
Edmund considered it for a moment and then nodded. "Tell Jason he has my permission to implement a plan to begin reducing the orca and ixchitl. But if he's taking high levels of casualties, that is if he's losing more than he's killing, he's to desist. Got it?"
"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir," Asfaw replied.
"Don't thank me, son," Edmund sighed. "You're just putting yourself in the way of more trouble."
* * *
"Trouble, sir." Chief Brooks sighed, collapsing in the chair across from Herzer.
Herzer looked out the window where one of the petty officers was conducting a class on knots.
"No riots," Herzer chuckled. "Even over the food."
"No, not so far, sir," Brooks replied. "It's a sexual harassment complaint."
"Bloody hell." Herzer sighed, leaning back. "Who?"
"Seaman, seawoman not to point too fine of a point on it, Regilio and Petty Officer Lenice."
"Tell," Herzer replied, rubbing his eyes.
"He was counseling her on her attitude, which is, frankly, crappy. She accused him of soliciting sex."
"Did he follow the two man rule?" Herzer asked, not looking up.
"No, sir, he didn't," Brooks replied. "He said that he wanted to bring it up without a witness so she would have less of a tendency to back talk. Because then he'd have to get strictly official."
"Send him back to the fleet," Herzer said, dropping his hands and picking up a piece of paperwork.
"He's one of the best instructors we have, sir," Brooks argued.
"Not if he makes that simple an error," Herzer said, looking up angrily and tossing the note back down on his desk. "I agree with his reasoning. But he can not put himself in that sort of a position with half-trained recruits. Recruits that don't realize how serious the accusation is. Or how the accusation is going to haunt them for quite some time. How many people are automatically going to question. what was her name?"
"Regilio, sir."
"Pamela," Herzer replied, nodding with that reminder. "In the intel tech program. Good math scores. Red hair. Yes, bit of an attitude. Just about the last person up The Mast every morning."
"That would be her," Brooks sighed.
"People are going to know about it, people are going to talk," Herzer said. "Lenice has been with the Fleet for a couple of years. Spotless record. No previous indication of tendency to use his rank for sex. So she's automatically going to be viewed with suspicion. Even if he did, in fact, proposition her or try to force her to have sex. Which was why, Chief Brooks, he is going back to the fleet. Today. With a notation in his record that he is unsuitable for training cadre. And you'd better thoroughly brief his replacement. Am I making myself clear?"
"Clear, sir," Brooks said, standing up. "Will that be all?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Herzer replied, picking up the paperwork again. "I'd rather it was riots. Oh, and pass this around. Don't let anyone think this is an easy way back to the fleet. The next time this comes up, I'm coming down like the hammer of hell. All the bells and whistles. They do not want to make this mistake again. We don't have the bodies to spare."
* * *
"Good afternoon, Skipper Karcher," Edmund said, waving at a chair. "Have a seat."
"Good afternoon, sir," Karcher replied, sitting down carefully. She had already had a look around the tent and was clearly surprised by its Spartan nature.
"Given that the headquarters was burned to the ground, I thought that we could use temporary accommodations," Edmund said, noting the glances.
"Yes, sir," Karcher replied. She had her captain's hat in her lap and was working the brow with the thumbs of both hands.
"How's your ship?" Edmund asked, smiling.
"Fine, sir," Karcher said. "In all conditions ready for sea."
"This isn't an inquisition, Karcher." Talbot chuckled. "I heard about your recommended change for the Silverdrake landings. It's being implemented throughout the fleet."
"One of my seamen came up with it, sir," Karcher said. "Seaman Fink."
"Good man?" Edmund asked.
"Woman, sir, and yes, she's pretty good. She's applied for dragon-rider training."
Edmund pulled a sheet of paper over to him and scribbled on it.
"Approved," Edmund said. "As long as you do." He handed the sheet across to her. "What's your XO like?"
"Good man, sir," Karcher replied. "Better than me at celestial navigation. Getting there at general boat handling skills. I mean, he's a good sailor, sir."
"Could he take over the Black?"
Karcher paused at that and frowned. "Am I being relieved, sir?"
"I asked the first question," Edmund replied.
"Yes, sir, he could." Karcher sighed.
"Good," Edmund said, handing her another sheet of paper. "You've just been appointed command of the Hazhir. The XO knows the ship but Shar doesn't feel he's up to commanding it, yet. I've looked at your record and I think you can."
"Yes, sir," Karcher replied, taking the paper as if it were incendiary. She slid it under her hat and continued working the brim, a bit harder.
"Just that, 'yes, sir'?" Edmund asked, smiling.
"Thank you, sir?" Karcher said.
"You think you can handle it?" Edmund asked.
"No, sir," Karcher said, honestly. "But I can give it my best shot. And I would guess that you've thought it over. I'd have expected that you'd transfer someone from one of the frigates or cruisers and that I'd get that, instead. But if you are willing to take the risk, I'll do my damnedest."
"Karcher, you've got more time at sea than half the frigate commanders." Edmund sighed. "And, yeah, I gave it some thought. And some second thoughts. You know what clinched it?"
Karcher thought about that for a second and then shrugged.
"My saying that Fink had come up with the landing program?"
"Bingo," Edmund replied. "That and your crew is loyal as hell. You can sail and you can lead. That's a hard combination to find in this Navy. And you're not afraid to say: 'I don't know, sir.' That takes guts. Now we just have to find out if you can fight. Don't prove me wrong."
"No, sir," Karcher replied. "I was just wondering."
"I know your background," Edmund said. "In fact, I probably know more about it than you do. Despite the fact that Changed are facing some very ancient prejudice, I don't have it. Changed are humans just like those of us who look normal. I'll except from that category the New Destiny Changed which have been programmed to be inhuman. You're a good CO, you're a good sailor and I have damned few people that fit both categories. I don't care, quite frankly, if you eat live mice. That might have mattered under Draskovich, it doesn't matter to me."
"I don't, sir," Karcher said, then took a chance. "Well, hardly ever."
"And I don't fling shit," Edmund said with a grin. "Well, hardly ever."
"Yes, sir," Karcher said with a catlike smile.
"That's it," Talbot said. "Good luck."
"Thank you, sir," Karcher said, standing up and putting on her hat. "I'll try to make my own."
* * *
"Hello, your Dukeship," Herzer said, striding into the lamp-lit tent.
"Herzer, you're really losing your military bearing with me, aren't you?" Edmund chuckled.
"I bring orders from your wife, via your daughter who you haven't even said hello to, yet," Herzer replied, walking over and pulling a s
heet of paper out of the admiral's hand. "We are ordered to repair to the O-Club. Where you, Van Krief and I, at a minimum, will occupy one corner and get shit faced. Rachel's precisely transmitted words. 'You are hereby ordered, by mother, to get him, and I quote, shit faced.' It's a rest day tomorrow and that gives us at least a few hours to get over the hangover. So stand up, our real masters call."
John Ringo - Council Wars 03 - Against the Tide Page 17
