"What?" Van Krief said.
"What?" Herzer shouted.
"Keep it down, Herzer," Edmund sighed. "I was afraid this was going to happen. The fact that you two. like each other is pretty obvious. It has been brought up to me. Not officially, but it has been brought up."
"But we have never." Herzer said then paused. "Well. except for. Oh, damn!"
"Damn indeed," Edmund nodded. "How's the school running?"
"Well enough," Herzer said. "If you're asking if Captain Silver can handle it, yes he can."
"The fleet sails for work-ups in two days," Edmund said with another nod. "I'd already made it plain that you were going to be going out with it. I was going to send you as a supernumerary, one of my eyes and ears. But they're so short of dragon-riders I'm going to appoint you as the CO of the Hazhir dragon wing."
"There are far more experienced riders in the fleet than me," Herzer pointed out.
"None on the Hazhir," Edmund replied. "New captain, new crew, dragons gathered from all over and half of them have only done one or two landings. Very few of them are trained in bombing."
"And me," Bast said. "Joanna will go, I will ride."
"Joanna is slated for the Bonhomme Richard," Edmund said.
"Was," Bast replied. "Joanna will go on Hazhir. As will I. Trust me on this, Edmund Talbot. Joanna, myself and Herzer to the Hazhir."
"What do you know?" Edmund asked.
"Know that is who will go," Bast said with a shrug. "Something is coming. More than battle. Timelines twist." She stopped and grinned. "Gaslan. Elf thing is. Warriors are. Future of war can feel, see. Schwerpunkt is Hazhir. Joanna, Herzer, I go. Battle you will fight. Battle you may win. Win or lose, Hazhir is the key. To more. Much more."
They all looked at her for a moment and then Edmund shook his head.
"I hate it when you get all elf on me. Destrang, make a note. Commander Joanna Gramlich transferred to Hazhir, commander dragon contingent. Same for Major Herzer Herrick, XO dragon contingent. Bast L'sol Tamel d'San, allied wood elf, assigned Hazhir as supernumerary dragon-rider."
"And me, sir?" Van Krief asked.
"You're coming back as one of my aides," Edmund replied. "We'll be on the Bonhomme Richard. I've got a lot of writing for someone to do. And it has to be someone I trust. Same with Destrang. Tao."
"Sir?" the ensign said.
"You're staying here. The original purpose of aides de camp were to be eyes and ears. You're my eyes and ears, not my mouth. But if something I order here isn't being done, get word to me."
"Yes, sir," the ensign replied.
"Why are you going to sea?" Daneh asked. "I thought that was why you brought up Shar Chang."
"Because I'm not going to sit in headquarters when a fleet that just had its ass kicked sails back into harm's way." Edmund sighed. "I probably should be at headquarters for any number of reasons. Planning the next battle for one thing. But right now, the fleet is reeling. I'm going to be there, right or wrong."
"Well, at least at sea the assassins are going to have a hard time reaching you," Daneh said with a frown. "Of course, you might get sunk or burned. But you don't have to worry about assassins."
"What about the assassins that might come after us?" Rachel asked.
"At a certain point," Edmund said sadly, "you have to delegate responsibility. Even if it's for the care of your family. And you're going to be going to Balmoran anyway. Remember?"
* * *
Herzer mounted the side of the Hazhir and saluted the officer of the deck, then the UFS Navy flag, a rattlesnake on a field of orange with the words "Don't Tread On Me" emblazoned on it.
"Permission to come aboard?" he asked.
"Granted," the female lieutenant said. "Lieutenant Lannette Rattanachane, navigation officer."
"Major Herzer Herrick," Herzer replied. Then he gestured at Bast who had just reached the deck and was looking around her with interest. "Bast L'sol Tamel d'San, Elven ally."
"Call me Bast," Bast said, sticking out her hand and pumping the lieutenant's. "Pleased to meetcha." She was in her normal traveling costume of a green leather bikini, baldric supported saber on her left hip, bow and quiver over her back, metal pauldron on her left shoulder, greaves on her right leg and a fur leg-warmer on her left. She was also wearing sandals with a very low heel. Her hair was unbound and the northeast wind blew it around her face as she grinned. "Fine day for sailin', eh?"
"Yes, it is," the lieutenant gulped. "Major Herrick, the captain would like to meet you as soon as possible."
"Which means now," Herzer said. "Bast. oh, never mind. Just try not to cause too much chaos, all right?"
"Who, me?" Bast grinned. "I'll go straighten out our quarters while you go sweet-talk the captain."
"We normally have separate quarters for male and female riders." Lieutenant Rattanachane started to say.
"Oh, well, normal doesn't apply to Bast." Bast grinned. "So why don't you be showin' me to Herzer's quarters and I'll be settlin' in?"
* * *
The fleet that upped anchor at the end of four weeks was radically changed, at least on the surface. Where there had been slap-dash repairs there was solid wood. Where there had been patched sails there was newly woven cosilk. Burned masts had been replaced, rigging had been rewoven and all material conditions had been repaired.
On the surface.
All of the ships had had at least one day beyond the bay of work-ups. All of them had the bare minimum top-men to raise and lower their sails. All of the carriers had their holds packed with stores. All of the anti-dragon dreadnoughts had their new guns mounted. Silverdrake and Powells filled the air as the dragons waited for the fleet to receive them.
But there was more to a fleet than being ready "in a material condition." Officers and men had been shifted around in a complex, and unwinnable, dance. New ship types had been added. Gunners and dragon-pilots were half-trained. New captains filled the fleet.
On the surface it looked like they were unstoppable. And Edmund knew that half the battle was morale. That the brave show would have a part in any battle. But he also knew that a good part of it was training. And in that they were sorely lacking.
So it was with these thoughts that he ascended the side of the Bonhomme Richard and shook the hand of Shar Chang.
"Atlantis Fleet, arriving!" the petty officer bellowed. The pipes and drums beat a flourish and his flag mounted the mast. But he knew that that, too, was only a show.
"Shar," he said, shaking the admiral's hand. "We ready to set sail?"
"As ready as we're going to get," Chang replied. He was clearly tired.
"Let's get below; we've got things to discuss."
* * *
They were in the same quarters he had occupied in his previous voyage on the Richard; port side of the officers' corridor, a room specifically made for visiting dignitaries. It was small but it had a large bed, a wide porthole and a table big enough for six to fit around if they were friendly. Right now, it was only Edmund and Shar Chang; Shar's aide was showing the gaggle following Edmund around their own, much more cramped, quarters.
"Shar, first thing, I'm not here to joggle your elbow," Edmund said.
"I think I know why you're here." Shar grinned. "You're an old war-horse that can't stay away from a battle."
"Okay, there's that," Edmund admitted. "But I would have swallowed my pride and stayed on shore if it wasn't for the condition of the fleet, mentally. The last time they sailed, their admiral stayed, presumably safe and sound, on shore. This time I'm going to share the danger. Seasickness and all."
"And, incidentally, be able to answer any little questions that come up in my mind?" Shar said, grinning again.
"I'm hoping that I'll be able to spend the whole voyage doing paperwork," Edmund admitted. "Except for the throwing up part."
"Well, I'm going to be exercising the fleet up until we get word on New Destiny's movements," Shar said. "In close where we can resupply readily. I'm especially going
to be exercising the dragons and the anti-dragon gunners. We'll probably be going through a lot of sailcloth."
"Probably will," Edmund chuckled. When fired into the wind the bolts from the air-guns had a distressing tendency to fall on the firing ships. It had caused several accidents, to the point of putting shelters on the decks, and shields on the guns, to prevent friendly fire incidents. But there was no way to save the sails and the dreadnoughts tended to look as if they'd just won first prize in a quilting bee. "And bolts and bombs. Good. When do we up anchor?"
"As soon as we're done talking," Shar admitted.
"Well, let me take some of these herbs Daneh prescribed for seasickness and then hoist the mizzen or whatever," the admiral said, grinning.
"We'll make a sailor of you yet, Admiral."
Chapter Sixteen
"When are we going to land?" Kenton signaled to the rider next to him.
Herzer caught the sign out of the corner of his eye and waved to him. "Cut the chatter," he signed, as Vickie coasted up on her Silverdrake.
The fleet had been scheduled to sail thirty minutes prior. The fly-off of the dragons had been intended to let them land in the bay after the fleet upped anchor. But the dragons had a limited endurance aloft and the first up were going to start tiring soon. Especially the Silverdrake.
"Sabeh and Al Kalifa are getting worn out," Vickie signaled, swinging around the front of his dragon and back in a quick bank as she simultaneously signed. "All Silverdrake. Need to land."
"Signal ship," Herzer signed, sighing. Great start to the big adventure.
The Silverdrake turned over on its back and dove down to the lower formation of defensive dragons. Vickie continued through the formation, narrowly missing one of the other wyverns, and down towards the ship which had just lifted its anchor and set sail.
* * *
"Dragon signaling, ma'am," the lookout called.
Skipper Karcher looked up and to the rear where the lookout was pointing and at the underside of the landing platform over her head. With a meow of distaste she walked to the rear of the quarterdeck and leaned out.
"What's the signal?" she shouted.
"Requesting clearance to land," the signal midshipman called from primary flight ops. The latter was a platform mounted on the rear mast. From there they could see the incoming dragons and signals from dragons in the pattern. Unlike the captain.
"The fleet hasn't signaled air-ops, ma'am," her new XO, Major Sassan, said.
"I know that, XO," the skipper said. "Pri-fly! Powell or Silverdrake?"
"Silverdrake, ma'am!" the midshipman called. She saw the damned elf climbing up there as well. "Now signaling request to recall all the Silverdrake."
"Granted," Karcher called. "Do not, say again, do not set for air-ops! Have ground crews standing by."
"Ma'am, are you sure about that?" Sassan asked.
"Yes," Karcher replied. "Communications, signal the fleet. 'Have recalled fatigued Silverdrake. Our number. End.'"
"Yes, ma'am," the signal midshipman said, pulling the flags out of her locker.
Karcher could, barely, see the Richard from her position. She saw the acknowledgement flag fly just as the first Silverdrake thumped to the deck, then an "Approved" follow it quickly. The approval was marked for the whole fleet.
"Apparently there are others with tired Silverdrake," Sassan said.
"Yes," Karcher replied. "XO, could I see you below?" she said, walking lightly to the companionway and springing halfway down in one bound.
When they reached her day-room she sat down and waved at the chair across from her desk.
"I don't know how Admiral Chang handled things, XO," she said. "But when I make a decision, I don't want it second-guessed unless you know you have information I don't. You will find that I will frequently ask for input, especially as regards the handling characteristics of this ship, the material condition and the crew. But when I give an order, you do not second-guess me. Certainly not in front of the crew. Is that clear?"
"Yes, ma'am," the XO replied.
"When Silverdrake have to land, they have to land. Maybe Vickie pulled them a tad early, maybe not. But I am not going to question the decision of an experienced dragon-rider, certainly not in the air. Further reasons for my decision: Silverdrake can land on a dime. They don't need the ship to be headed into the wind. The fleet could recall them without maneuvering, which is good since we don't have the sea-room, yet. I could have asked the admiral. In the future, I suspect I will. But at that time, in that place, I knew I had to get my Silverdrake down. Making decisions like that is what being the skipper is about. Clear?"
"Clear, ma'am."
"When you're a skipper, you'll have to make decisions like that, too. For now, let's get back up on deck. I imagine we'll start air-ops pretty soon."
* * *
"I can't believe they got to sea that fast," Paul snarled, tiredly.
He had just completed another session of recalling his avatars. Reintegrating their personalities was tiring and generally left him grouchy. Megan had had Shanea stand by with her as they waited and now the latter lifted a cup of wine to his lips.
"Thank you, Shanea," Paul said, taking a sip.
"The UFS sailed already?" Megan asked.
"Yes," Paul said, shaking his head and taking the cup from Shanea. His hand shook slightly as he raised it for another sip. "That damned Talbot again. Sheida put him in charge of the fleet. He's made all sorts of changes. Most of them good."
"He has been quite a thorn in your side," Megan prompted.
"As bad as Kinloch in Taurania," Paul admitted, sitting up. "Worse, really. Chansa gave orders to have him assassinated but that bastard Conner bungled it."
"Conner is normally quite efficient," Megan mused.
"Yes, but this time he underestimated Talbot, and that bastard Herrick for that matter. The assassins attacked them by surprise and the two of them managed to kill eight of the assassins, even though they were unarmed."
"Herrick is the young Blood Lord?" Shanea asked.
"Yes," Paul said, smiling at the girl. Shanea usually just listened since she wasn't quite as quick on the uptake as Megan. "He's been a bit of a thorn in my side as well, but not as bad as Talbot. I'm thinking of sending a team of Celine's specials after the both of them. Or maybe Edmund's family, including that brat of McCanoc's."
"Edmund Talbot does not seem the sort to respond to grief," Megan said, frowning. "Not in an unthinking way. If anything, it will make him angrier. But not a good angry. Not from what you've told me of him. I don't want to say that attacking them would be a bad idea, but."
"But you think it's a bad idea." Paul grinned. "And you're probably right. I'll make a note to Chansa to leave them alone. Killing Edmund will do. And if they can get that bastard Herzer at the same time, more power."
"Can't our fleet beat theirs?" Shanea asked.
"Probably, lovey," Paul said, patting her on the head. "We've got more ships. But I don't trust that Talbot. He's tricky."
"Any good news?" Megan asked.
"Well, they still haven't taken the Alam reactor," Paul said. "But Arizzi's forces got pushed back in Chin, again, and Cho is stalemated in the mountains of Soam. If we can just take Norau, or even the eastern reactors."
"You need some time to let this bubble," Megan said, sliding over next to him. "Two beautiful women, one good looking guy. What does this suggest to you?"
"That my day's getting better?" Paul chuckled.
* * *
"Good day for flying," Herzer said as he checked the straps on Meritari.
The fleet had recovered the dragons in the bay and then headed out to sea for more exercises. They had spent the morning doing ship drills but the afternoon was slated for air-operations. The riders had wolfed down lunch and were now preparing to lead their mounts up to the deck.
"That it is," Joanna said, stumping down the broad corridor that marked the dragon-hanger. "Seas are low enough that the wyverns aren't
sick, not pitching too much. Should be easy takeoff and landing."
"Nice and warm," Ensign Ross said. "Good thermals."
"Well, let's go find out," Herzer said, opening up the gate of the stall and leading the wyvern out into the pathway as soon as Joanna was past. He handed the reins to one of the handlers, though, and slid past Joanna to beat her onto the deck.
"What's your hurry?" Joanna growled.
"You're first off, Commander," Herzer pointed out. "I'm last. I'm going to watch the launch in pri-fly; most of the guys up there are pretty green."
John Ringo - Council Wars 03 - Against the Tide Page 19
