by John Ringo
“Sir… General,” the sailor said. “There’s nobody here but me for two hours, sir. Everyone else is at the barracks and…”
“Never mind,” Edmund replied with an angry sigh. “Ensigns, I’m sorry but I think you’re going to have to miss some more sleep.”
“Not a problem, sir,” Tao said. He’d been unloading their bags and he now hoisted a sea chest in one hand and a bag of armor in the other. “Where are we going, kid?”
“Upstairs to your right, sir,” the sailor said, grabbing another bag and stumbling under the weight.
Between the six of them they conveyed all the gear in one load; Herzer wasn’t the only one who had packed armor and personal weapons.
“Guys,” Edmund said. “I’ve changed my mind. Herzer and I have to be at the headquarters at dawn, you guys sleep in. Not long, be there no more than two hours after. But get some sleep, you’re going to need it.”
“Sir, we’ll be fine,” Van Krief said, squaring her shoulders. “Sir, we’re Blood Lords,” she added, sounding surprised that he’d think a two-day unstopping ride would bother them.
“Lord, to be as hard-d… core as you are, Ensign.” The general smiled. “Okay, two hours.”
“Yes, sir,” Destrang said. He was the only one of the five that still looked unrumpled by the travel, but he was sorely in need of a shave. “Let’s hope that they have a shower or something.”
“Oh, I’m sure they do,” Edmund said dryly. “I can’t imagine the Navy not having a shower in their BOQ. I’d be surprised if it was that simple.”
* * *
“Good lord,” Destrang said with a whistle, looking around the bathroom. “I need to change services!”
The officers’ bath, which the Navy insisted on calling a head, had six separate showers, a large wooden soaking tub like those found at Raven’s Mill, two separate “private” tubs that could handle three at a pinch, a wood-heated sauna and a steam room. The sauna was the only one that wasn’t currently heated and the sleepy female seaman who had greeted them had grumpily allowed that it was possible to get that heated up in about an hour.
“And this is temporary quarters,” Van Krief said, wonderingly. “For junior officers.”
“There are some commanders in the barracks,” Tao said. “While you eggheads were talking to the private I was reading the roster on the wall.” He looked around balefully and shrugged. “I’m going to take a shower.”
“Well, I’m going to take a shower and then have a soak,” Destrang said, stripping off his tunic as he headed back to his room. “There’s not enough time to bother sleeping. A twenty- or thirty-minute soak before we have to head back is just what the doctor ordered after that damned ride.”
* * *
“Can I get you anything, General?” Herzer asked as he stepped into Edmund’s room.
“Yeah, a bath like this at my damned house,” Edmund growled. “What’s your bathroom like?”
“I use the common one in the corridor, sir,” Herzer said. He was fresh from the shower and in his dress uniform. It was similar to the undress uniform except the lapels of the tunic were light blue to denote his branch of infantry. But in keeping with the situation he’d also pinned on his medals. At the top was a device like a shield pinned on the left upper breast of the kimono. Below it were four medals. The one on the uppermost row was a representation of a gold laurel. The three on the row below were a silver eagle, wings outspread, another shield formed in bronze and a pair of crossed swords. He realized with a start that he had more than Edmund and wondered if he should take some of them off. “But it was pretty nice.”
“Go look in mine,” Edmund said, shrugging into his own tunic.
Herzer had been impressed with the common bath. It had a very nice tub, a separate shower lined with tile and two porcelain basins with hot and cold running water. Not to mention a flush commode. Edmund’s put his to shame. The floor and walls were of some sort of light wood, very rich-looking. The shower was huge, lined in black marble and so large that it didn’t need a door. The bath was of some rich, dark stone he didn’t recognize and at least twice the size of the one in the common room. The sinks were made of the same smooth stone and the faucets appeared to be of pure silver. He thunked one and the sound indicated that it was. He shook his head and looked in the separate room for the commode just because he had to see. The commode was black marble and there was another device next to it the purpose of which Herzer had no clue. Ditto black marble.
“This is pretty elegant,” Herzer said when he came back in the room. Edmund had donned his tunic and elected to not wear his medals. The only thing on the tunic were four silver stars. He seemed to think that was enough.
“I don’t think that rank shouldn’t have some privileges,” Edmund said, sourly. “There has to be some reason to deal with the crappy aspects of having the responsibility. But I’ve rarely encountered a group that accepted this much ostentation that hadn’t lost sight of the point; which is to bring harm to the enemy.”
“Yes, sir,” Herzer replied, thinking of the military history he had been studying. “The Spartans and most of the Romans would certainly agree.”
“Do we kill time for an hour or go round up the ensigns and head for the headquarters early?” Edmund asked.
“Do we have transportation?” Herzer asked.
“It’s about a quarter klick to the headquarters,” Edmund replied, dryly. “I think even I can survive the walk.”
“Yes, sir,” Herzer said. “But do you think the admirals would walk?”
“Good point,” Edmund replied. “Do we just look like low-life scum if we don’t have wheels? Or do we look like hard bastards who don’t go for ostentation?”
“Both?” Herzer chuckled. “If we have wheels, we disdain them. But I don’t think there’s a coach waiting for us.”
“I should have held onto ours,” Edmund admitted. “But the driver was as tired as we were.”
“And we didn’t tell the helpful gentleman downstairs that we’d need them.”
“Go roust out the ensigns,” Edmund said after a bit. “I’ll talk to the young gentleman downstairs about finding some chow. When you’re back we’ll walk. Of course, that means that we’ll have to walk, rain or shine, from now on.”
“Rain never killed anyone,” Herzer said. “Unless it was really cold rain and they were out in it a long time,” he added truthfully.
* * *
When Herzer and the ensigns returned, the charge of quarters directed them to the dining room. In keeping with the rest of the VIP quarters it was huge and elegant, with snowy white tablecloths and silver settings, as well as fresh flowers in vases arranged along the massive table. It was apparent that the servants got there early and places had been set for all five of them.
“There was some question in the head cook’s mind about serving the rest of you in here,” Edmund said with a faint smile, like a tiger that had recently eaten well. “Low-life scum like ensigns are supposed to eat at the consolidated mess or the officers’ club. At best in the kitchen, here, according to the cook. But I pointed out the error of his ways. Have a seat.”
There was bacon or ham as well as eggs to order. Not to mention baskets of rolls fresh from the oven. Herzer considered asking if they had cornmeal mush or chitlins but decided that it was time to start playing the part of good little aide. And good little aides let their generals handle the needling.
When they had all eaten, rapidly in the way that field soldiers learned and sometimes never forgot, they left the quarters and headed for the headquarters building.
“Tao, you’re from the plains,” Edmund said. “Any experience with horses before you were introduced to them in officer’s training?”
“I practically grew up on one, sir,” Tao admitted.
“When we get to the headquarters detach yourself and find out where their stables are. On my authority get six of the best horses you can find and equal amounts of tack. They are to be held for the
use of the five of us. Six, because you might find yourself making a ride where you need remounts. Destrang, Van Krief, do you have writing materials?”
“Yes, sir,” they both said.
“Good. You guys stay at my back unless I specifically detach you and then you get as close as you can. You’re going to be doing a lot of waiting.”
“Not a problem, sir,” Van Krief replied.
“Herzer, I’m going to try like hell to have you fixed to my side like a limpet,” Edmund said as they approached the lantern-lit headquarters. The sun was just starting to give a glow to the horizon in the east.
“Destrang, Van Krief,” Edmund said, stopping. “Which of you is the best researcher?”
“I am, sir,” Van Krief replied. Destrang just nodded his head in her direction.
“Okay, I’ve got a special project for you,” Edmund said, resuming his walk.
As he walked up the steps to the headquarters, a large, four-story wooden building, the marines on guard at the front came to order arms. They were in full armor, loricated plate and barbute helmets, and armed with short boarding pikes. Edmund acknowledged the salute with a smile.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” he said as Herzer opened the door to the headquarters. “How are you this morning?”
There was an alert-looking captain manning the desk inside the door. He came to attention as the general entered the room and shouted: “Attention on deck!”
“Good morning, Captain,” Edmund said with another smile. “I appear to be here a little early. I take it I’m senior on deck from your reaction.”
“Yes, sir,” the captain replied.
“Fine,” the general said with a smile. “Ensign Destrang,” he added, leaning over to say something in the ensign’s ear.
Destrang removed a notebook from the blouse pocket of his tunic and made a small notation, nodding as the general spoke.
Herzer managed to remain blank-faced at the exchange, but he knew that Admiral Draskovich, the North Atlantis Fleet commander, would hear soon enough that not only had the Eastern Forces Commander beaten him into his headquarters, the damned Army busybody, who just happened to be a good friend of the queenÑsome rumored they were former loversÑmade a note of that fact.
“In that case, I need a guide to the war-room,” Edmund said, turning back to the captain.
“Sir,” the captain looked uneasy. “We have a number of security procedures in place in the wake of… certain compromises of information.”
“I was there, son,” Edmund said with a grim smile. On the diplomatic mission to the mer, the executive officer of the carrier had turned out to be a New Destiny agent. Owen Mbeki’s wife, Sharon, had been caught in Ropasa by the Fall and her condition depended upon the quality of the information he gave them. In the end his New Destiny control had killed him when his actions were discovered. “Are you telling me that I’m not authorized to enter your war-room?”
“No, sir, but…”
“Where is the field duty officer?” Edmund asked. “Or the classified documents officer? Surely there is someone senior to you that you can pass this problem on to. I know you don’t get paid enough.”
In short order the general was sitting in the office of a sleepy looking major who frowned at the general.
“Sir, I’m not authorized to release passes to the war-room,” the major said, looking pained. He was a Navy officer but he was well aware that to a flag officer that didn’t mean much. The heat round that was possible in this situation was liable to destroy his career. “Commander Correa comes in in no more than an hour…”
“Major, am I the senior officer present?” the general said, warningly.
“Yes, sir,” the major gulped.
“What you’re going to do then, major, by my authority, is issue passes to the war-room for myself and my aide, Captain Herrick. Then you are going to find someone to take Ensign Van Krief to your records room, where she is going to examine certain records, by my authority. Then you are going to find someone to show Ensign Tao the base stables, someone that the people at the stables are going to listen to. And you are going to find a place to park Ensign Destrang where I can access him in no more than thirty seconds. After that, you can make all the damned protests to Admiral Draskovich you wish. But if you do not begin the process of those orders I’m not going to have you court-martialed, I AM GOING TO RIP YOUR HEAD OFF AND SHIT IN YOUR NECK. IS THAT CLEAR?”
“Clear, sir,” the major said, reaching into a desk drawer.
* * *
“Excuse me, ma’am,” the chief petty officer said as he entered the records room and found some Army ensign with half his files scattered on the ground in no sort of order. “Can I, with all respect, ask you what the hell you are doing?”
“I’m reading some of your records and taking notes,” Amosis replied, mildly.
“Can I ask on whose authority, ma’am? We don’t just let any officer in here if you know what I mean. There are procedures.”
“By authority of General Talbot, Eastern Forces Commander,” Van Krief replied. “If you have a problem with it, PO, you can take it up with him. In the meantime, I need extracted reports of materials budgets for the Fleet from last quarter, training hours, by type, dragon-flight hours and total ship time at sea. Oh, and a list of all ships currently under construction in the yards and estimated time to completion.”
“I have other duties, ma’am,” the chief said tightly. “And it’s chief petty officer.”
“Well, chief, if you want to stay a chief, I’d suggest you either get cracking or you find someone to access those records for me,” the ensign replied. “Because I only have until noon to create an abstract and if I can’t, item one in my report will be the obstructionism of a certain chief petty officer.”
* * *
“General Talbot,” Admiral Draskovich said. The admiral was a tall officer with pale skin, almost black eyes and long, jet black hair pulled back in a ponytail.
Edmund was sitting with his feet up on the desk of one of the officers in the war-room, a mug of coffee in his hand. He waved the mug in the direction of the Fleet commander.
“Drask,” Edmund said, getting to his feet. “Very well-trained crew you have here. I’d kill for your communications.”
“Thank you, General,” the admiral said, shaking Talbot’s hand. “This is my chief of staff, Brigadier General Kabadda.” The indicated officer was medium height with blond hair. He shook the general’s hand in turn, smiling slightly. “And my aide, Commander Edrogan.” Edrogan was a tall, elegant young man, not much more than Herzer’s age. His eyes were crinkled as if he had stared at a lot of light in his time and he was heavily tanned.
“Commander,” the general said with a nod. “And this is my aide, Captain Herzer.”
The trio stared at Herzer for a moment, and at the medals, and then the admiral nodded.
“Captain, your reputation precedes you,” the admiral said, somewhat stuffily.
Herzer almost asked “which one” but managed to quell it.
“Thank you, sir,” Herzer said. “So does yours.”
“Yes,” the admiral said, digesting the ambiguity of the reply. “Is everything in order?”
“Oh, just fine,” Edmund replied. “There was a little issue about letting me in the war-room but that was easily taken care of.” A commander entered the room with a set expression on his face and whispered in the ear of the admiral’s aide. The aide looked startled and then whispered in the admiral’s ear, glancing at the general as he did so.
“And one of my ensigns with too much time on her hands is busy bothering your records people,” Talbot added with a closed-mouth grin. “Nothing of consequence.”
“I’m sure,” the admiral said, tightly. “The message that you were coming didn’t specify your precise purpose, General.”
“Oh, well,” Edmund said, gesturing with the cup of coffee. “I’m the fella that has to deal with any of the New Destiny folks that slip through y
our efficient sieve, Drask. It only seemed fitting to Sheida that I be around when you go out to handle them.”
The admiral did not miss the reference to the queen’s first name. So he smiled thinly and nodded.
“Perhaps you’d like to attend the morning briefing, then?” the admiral said. “We generally hold it in the secure conference room in about an hour.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for worlds,” Edmund replied.
* * *
Tao walked through the stables inhaling gratefully the heady aroma of horse dander, manure and leather. He found it humorous that he’d had to go to a Navy base to go play with horses. Since joining the legions the only time he had been around them was the week of half-day classes in Officer Basic course.
The stable was large with ranks of stalls and he walked down the aisles, dodging grooms and occasional piles of manure, looking into the stalls and getting a feel for the beasts within. He noticed immediately that the vast majority were heavy horses, designed for drawing small wagons or carriages. There were relatively few that were riding breeds. And of them, most were pretty low quality. He stopped by the stall of one that was not, a pretty mixed mare with a white face. Her colors were awful, the blotch of white on her face was matched on her rump and on two feet, meaning she’d be subject to dew rot. The rest of her was a patchwork of ugly brown and chestnut. She wasn’t in very good condition, either; she clearly hadn’t been worked in a long time. But she had a good set of withers, better than most of the riding horses in the stable.
“Can I help you, Ensign.” a voice said coldly from behind him.
The young officer turned around and stared into the face of a clearly furious commander.
“I hope so, sir,” Tao said, trying not to swallow nervously. “I was sent here by General Talbot to pick some riding horses for messengers. Six, sir, with tack.”
“Let me see your orders,” the commander said, holding out his hand.
