"Hey, Joanna," Bast said, swinging down from the mainmast. "Care to give me a ride?"
"Sure, you're light," Joanna said as one of the Silverdrake let out an evil hiss.
"Quit that you bastard," Vickie replied, slapping the wyvern on the nose. "Najah hates waiting for others to take off."
"She can go ahead as far as I'm concerned," Joanna said.
"Silverdrake should launch last," Major Sassan called from pri-fly. "They've got the shortest legs."
"I'll just take her to where she won't mind so much," Vickie said, mounting the wyvern. At an unseen signal the wyvern grabbed the ratlines and started climbing the mainmast. The movement was very like a climbing bat's; the wings had three fingerlike appendages which the Silverdrake used for climbing hand over hand up the rigging. When it reached the mainsail it climbed out on the crosstree until it reached the end, where it perched. After a moment it slid around until it was facing head down, its wings folded in against its body. It was apparent that it could take off at any moment.
"Fucking show-off," Joanna chuckled.
"I didn't know they could do that," Herzer said, still looking up at the dragon above.
"Neither did I," said Skipper Karcher. "I wonder how long she can hang like that?"
"Well, if we don't get started, ma'am, we may find out the hard way," Herzer pointed out as the other Silverdrake started climbing the rigging. He'd been surprised at Karcher's sudden appearance, she had been in pri-fly just a second ago, but tried to avoid showing it. The skipper had the uncanny ability to simply appear; even with his keen hearing he never heard her walking up. And she didn't just walk; he'd seen her drop from the rigging a good ten meters and land on the balls of her feet, silently.
"Good point," Karcher said.
"Fleet's signaling, ma'am," the signal midshipman called. "Prepare for air-operations, tack."
"Major Sassan, prepare to come into the wind!" Karcher said, making a seemingly impossible leap upwards to a ratline, then flinging herself across open air back into pri-fly. The only person Herzer had ever seen move like that was Bast. He suddenly wondered how many cat genes there were in wood elves.
As the fleet tacked into the wind the carriers began launching their dragons. Joanna was very nearly the first in the air and she headed for altitude faster than the wyverns, forming up in a lazy figure eight over the carrier.
"Come on up," she signaled, "the air's fine."
* * *
If Edmund thought he could catch up on his paperwork at sea he was wrong; dispatch sloops were cheap.
"Shar, this is insane," Edmund said as the admiral stepped into the room and tossed his beret on the desk. He was carrying a heavy bag, which he set on the floor.
"And you're not even looking at what I stopped," Shar noted. The admiral and his staff had been "filtering" the material sent to Edmund. Edmund had ensured that they knew what to filter, but the remainder was still a heavy load.
"I know, I'm looking at what you couldn't stop," Edmund growled. "There are requests for clarification from Congress on things we had settled a month ago. Buships wants to know why we're ordering heavier standing rigging. When I told them, they flipped a lid."
"I know, they don't want the crosstrees weighted by the wyverns," Shar said. "It does make the sailing a tad tougher. Be bad in a storm."
"The Silverdrake can't hang up there in a storm," Edmund noted.
"Storms come up fast sometimes," Shar explained. "You want my suggestion, send them Wellington's answer."
"Wellington's answer?" Edmund said.
"What, you've never heard of Wellington's response in the Spanish Campaign?" the admiral said with a chuckle.
"No," Edmund admitted. "I know quite a bit about Wellington, fine guy, several of his quotes have been badly mangled over the years. But that's a new one on me. Do tell."
"Basically he sent a message back to the army high command to the effect that he was being asked too many stupid questions. Especially about supply issues. 'I can win battles or count nails, not both.'"
"Hah!" Edmund snorted. "Okay, find me the original. I'll quote it with a copy to the Armed Services committee, that pack of goat-riding nitwits, Navy command, Buships and Sheida. Thanks. What's in the bag?"
"Last word we had is that the New Destiny fleet hasn't sailed yet, right?" Shar said, pulling a large metal device from the bag. It had a dial on one side and the other had a complicated clamping arrangement.
"Nope. Looks like they don't have their act together as well as we do. Thank God for Ennesby and Trahn."
"Well, this is one way to even up the odds a bit, Evan's latest marvel." Chang turned the dial slightly and set the device on the desk, face up. After a moment a large spike sprung out, hard.
"What are we spiking?" Edmund asked, touching the tip. It was partially hollow. "And what are we squirting?"
"Ships," Shar said with a grin. "And concentrated acid. The spike drives into the wood and squirts out acid under pressure. If it doesn't penetrate the hull, the acid is still going to dissolve a big hole. If it does penetrate the hull, and it isn't in the bilges, it's going to burn out a hole big enough that it will sink the ship with luck. Put it in dry dock at the least."
"Very nice," Edmund said, dryly. "You know the story about when the Navy tried to come up with something like this?"
"No, I was in durance-not-so-vile in Blackbeard," Shar said. "Do tell."
"There's a group of companies that have set up around Washan. They get contracts for various things related to the military, sutlers, designers, that sort of thing. Anyway, the Navy went to one of those companies and had it design a mine. The company spent a year and the mine they came up with was three times that size and didn't work. And Evan came up with this in, what? A week?"
Shar laughed and shook his head.
"I take it this is the answer to how the mer can do more than just handle recon and communications," Edmund asked.
"What do you think?"
"I think I wouldn't want to be a mer carrying one of these things into harbor," Edmund said and sighed. "Not with orca and ixchitl screening the entrance. But then, I'm old and aware of my mortality. Volunteers only. And we'll have to get a ship in close to carry them."
"Not necessarily," Chang said with a shrug. "We can load a few of them on a whale and have him carry them into the area. Then have the mer cross-load for the rest of the distance."
"However you want to do it," Edmund said.
"You're not happy about it," Shar said.
"No, I'm not," Edmund admitted. "It's going to be a nearly suicidal mission. If we lose a few mer and take out a carrier or two, that's good casualty ratio. I still don't care for it. It's a good idea, though, so run with it."
"You have a point," Shar said.
"And keep it very close to your vest," Edmund added. "Need to know only. We're still leaking information like a sieve."
* * *
"You rang, Joel?"
Sheida's projection was hanging in midair and looked impatient.
"Indeed," Travante replied. "I'm trying to track down some New Destiny agents with the fleet. Unfortunately Conner has apparently gotten very canny with his communications. My agents have been attempting to localize them with Evan's devices, so far with no success. I need something a bit more technological. Sorry."
Avatars gave off a mild electromagnetic field. Evan Mayerle had used that fact to trace down a New Destiny agent on board the Bonhomme Richard during the diplomatic mission to the mer. However, the traces were faint and if the communication was brief and random it was nearly impossible to find them with the relatively low-tech methods available.
"I'll ken some devices for your agents," Sheida said with a sigh. "Which ships?"
"The Bonhomme Richard, again, the Alida Diaconescu and the Hazhir."
"I've never heard of the Diaconescu," Sheida temporized.
"It's one of the dreadnoughts that was converted to an anti-dragon platform," Joel explained. "That and
the Hazhir are the ones that I'm bothered by the most, frankly. If someone's on the Diacon they can be giving out designs and specs for the new guns, not just that we have them. And the Hazhir is a new source, a brand new one. I'd like to squelch it as soon as possible."
"I'll need contact information for your agents," Sheida pointed out. "What news on the attack on Edmund?"
"Nothing useful," Joel admitted. "I got the news that the hit was out just before the attack, far too short a time to do anything about it. The one survivor that was caught sang like a canary but he didn't know anything. Barely knew the people he was with and they were all recruited from waterfront bars. 'A man in a pub.' Nothing to go on there. Bast apparently killed one of the recruiters, which was unfortunate. So far no expansion to the family, though, it's all on Edmund. Oh, and money has been offered if Major Herrick is included."
"Chansa has got us outnumbered," Sheida mused. "Why is he so desperate?"
"Angry, more likely," Paul pointed out. "He never did take well to any sort of frustration and Edmund has been very frustrating to him."
"Agreed. Anything else?"
"You're aware that Paul has a. breeding program?"
"If you're talking about his harem, yes," Sheida said, flexing her jaw.
"I may have an entree to it," Joel said, carefully. "They have put out a bid for some personal effects, notably cosmetics. One of my agents, not coincidentally, is a cosmetic supplier."
"Cosmetic supplier?" Sheida said, raising her eyebrow.
"Cosmetics are luxury items in Ropasa," Joel said, impassively. "This permits my agent to move among the wealthy with a fully justified cover. And since he is being supported independently, shall we say, he can afford to underbid his competition at need. With luck we will be able to penetrate the harem."
"And you think that will help?" Sheida asked.
"I suspect that Paul may talk to the girls." Joel shrugged. "Even if it is about inconsequential items, they may be pieced together. When he is there and when he is gone is data. Of course, the agent may not be able to find a useable contact. But I feel it is worth a shot."
"Pillow talk," Sheida said, shaking her head.
"The honey trap is one of the oldest traps in the business," Joel noted. "Men tend to talk afterwards. It's amazing what they will tell a pretty woman."
"I've noticed that effect myself," Sheida admitted, dryly. "If they stay awake. Now, let's get the information on your agents on the ships and I'll get on to the billion other things I have to do. And I wish you luck on your harem adventure."
Chapter Seventeen
Megan smiled thinly as the vendor's eyes flickered down and then back up to look her in the eye.
After a certain amount of persuading, Paul had allowed her to begin looking for another "sundries" vendor. Paul was constantly on Christel, and Megan now, to keep costs down and one of the harem's worst expenses, after food, was cosmetics. When Megan had arrived there hadn't been any. Prior to the Fall there were a variety of ways to "touch up" the face, and body, from skin color mods to nannite makeup. After the Fall it had taken a while for "luxury" items to appear; as far as she knew Megan was still the only perfumer in Ropasa. But as part of her plan Megan had found, through the kitchen staff that handled all the "sundries" vending, a cosmetics supplier.
Unfortunately, the price the supplier charged was infernally high. Admittedly, some of the materials were either not found in Ropasa or exceedingly rare. But still, the prices were just outrageous.
Paul had finally let her accept bids from competitors and this vendor was the winning bidder. If his material met spec.
And if he could keep his eyes in his head.
"Sorry about that," the man said. He seemed to be over the "outfit" and examining her face. But she decided to ignore it.
"That's fine," Megan replied. "As long as you remember that my eyes are up here," she added, pointing at her face.
"Yes, Miss. ?"
"Sung," Megan replied. "Megan Sung. Now, I like your pricing, but I'm not comfortable with the shades on your blushes. They're a tad brown."
"We don't have access to a firm red," the vendor replied, nodding and looking down at his notes. "The best red, the brightest available, is vermillion. But it's made from."
"Mercury," Megan said, smiling thinly. "A toxic heavy metal."
"Did my predecessor. ?" the man asked, looking up in startlement.
"I tested all the cosmetics for base materials in my lab," Megan replied. "I rejected his reds for that very reason. Another point against him, besides price. I'm glad to hear you don't use it. There is no other high quality red available?"
"Say rather that there is none that is not toxic," the man said with a grimace. "To one degree or another. My lab is working on a petroleum based red. We know that it once existed, but I've been unable to find any hardcopy data on how to produce it. And, even then, we anticipate that it will have some trace of metallics in it."
"There are red dyes being used in clothes," Megan said, gesturing at her top. It was a brilliant red silk.
"And the people using those dyes are quite reticent about what they use." The vendor grinned. "Also, some high-brilliance red dyes that are functional for clothing are not functional for cosmetics. There is an. intimate contact with cosmetics. Any volatile in them is transmitted through the skin. Which is why testing for them used to be so acute."
"Unfortunately, I need a red," Megan said, frowning. "If you're willing to give up some of your industrial secrets, I'd be willing to do some experimentation of my own. Not for production; the girls use far more than I'd be able to produce."
"I understand," the vendor replied with a grin. "We'll keep working on it. We've got some new mixtures," he continued, pulling a sample out of his case. "And we're working with some of the less toxic materials, to try to find one that is suitable. But you can understand that I truly do not want to poison any of Paul Bowman's. friends."
"Understandable." Megan grinned, opening up the leather case. The man held out a hand mirror as she brushed some of the rouge onto her cheek and considered the color. "That's. better. Nearly right. What about lip gloss?"
"That's actually easier," the man replied. "An addition of yellow brings out the red. The yellow does have a trace quantity of lead in it. But our test subjects haven't experienced any notable side effects."
"Test subjects?" Megan asked, carefully.
"We test all the cosmetics on animals first," the vendor replied, shrugging. "Then employees use them. There is no compulsion used. And none of our customers have had any complaints. So far, so good."
"Is there much of a market?" Megan asked, doing her other cheek as the man pulled out a gloss sample.
"More and more of one," the vendor admitted. "Although this account will be. substantial from what you've alluded."
"We use a lot of cosmetics." Megan sighed, pouting her lips to apply the gloss. Now that was red.
"Again, I understand," the man said, carefully.
"Oh, Paul's not here that much," Megan said, looking up from the mirror. "But he turns up without any warning. So the girls use it every day regardless. And they're always trying for the right new 'look' that he'll particularly like. Harem politics."
"Yes," the man said, uncomfortably.
"You can use the word," Megan replied, smiling thinly. "We do."
"As you wish," the vendor said. "I can start supplying by the end of the week. The terms are acceptable?"
"Quite acceptable," Megan replied. "Much better than your competitors'."
"My competitors have neither my sources nor my business acumen," the vendor said with a grin. "On the subject of a 'new look.' I have some employees, female, who perform makeup seminars. Would it be possible. ?"
"Unlikely," Megan said with a moue. "I had to practically twist Paul's arm to let me do the negotiating on this. Visitors are extremely rare in the harem."
"Must be boring," the man said, frowning.
"It's safe and we're wel
l cared for," Megan replied, cutting off that line of questioning. "We can expect the supplies by the end of the week?"
"Yes, ma'am," the vendor said, laying out some more samples. "These, of course, are on the house." As he said it he slid a piece of paper out from under one of the samples. On it it said, "Travante."
"Thank you," Megan said, looking at it like a mouse in front of a snake. "What is this?"
"It's a new line of cosmetics we're working on," the man said, turning the paper over so she could see the list of available materials. "It's a much brighter line that has been thoroughly inspected. Some of the colors are unique. For example, we have a lovely azure eye shadow."
John Ringo - Council Wars 03 - Against the Tide Page 20
