by John Ringo
“This is bad,” he muttered.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Van Krief giggled.
“This is a really bad idea,” Herzer said, opening the door. “Really bad. I’ll just… sleep on the floor or something.”
“I don’t think so,” Van Krief repeated, giggling again. She stumbled away from him, kicked the door closed, stumbled again, and pulled her tunic off. “What do you think of that?”
“What?” Herzer asked, looking at the floor. It looked… really uncomfortable.
“These!” Van Krief said, pulling at a couple of buttons on her shirt and then giving up and ripping it open. “These!” she said again, pointing at her breasts.
“Pink nipples,” he muttered, getting on his knees and kneeing over to her until he could lay his cheek on her midriff. “How much worse could it get?” He had just kissed her on the stomach when there was a knock on the door.
“Okay, this is worse,” he said, pulling himself up with a hand on the bedstead.
Van Krief had fumbled her tunic on but the torn shirt was impossible to conceal. Herzer looked at her and shrugged as he opened the door.
“Herzer?” Rachel said, supporting herself on the doorframe. “Do you have a private bathroom?”
“Yes,” Herzer said.
“Good, I’m going to be sick in it,” Rachel replied, sliding off the doorframe and skidding to a halt when she saw Van Krief.
“Oh,” Rachel said, her eyes blinking furiously.
“We were just dis-ss-cussing…” Van Krief slurred.
“We were just discussing not having sex,” Herzer continued, clapping his hand over the ensign’s mouth. “Now the young ensign, who is also my subordinate, is going to support herself on the wall until she gets to her room, and her chaste bed, and I’m going to collapse into a drunken stupor. And you’re going to go throw up.”
At least that’s what he’d meant to say. What came out was:
“Wubaa, ubba, nooob…”
At which point the many, many shots of rum finally kicked in and gravity took over.
* * *
When Herzer opened his eyes the first thing he knew, with awful clarity, was that he was not in bed alone.
He remembered, too clearly, the night before. Right up to the point that both Rachel and Van Krief were in his room. Especially the point when Rachel and Van Krief had been in his room.
And now there was someone in his bed.
Rachel… now Rachel wouldn’t be bad. Rachel he could live with. He’d be surprised, but not unpleased. But since he would be surprised, given that her interest in him as male seemed to be zero, it was much more likely to be Van Krief. And that would be… bad. He tried not to groan as he thought of the night before. He couldn’t run away and join the Legion, he was already in it. Maybe start up a farm, find a rock to crawl under. This was a court-martial offense, damnit! He’d just tossed PO Lenice to the metaphorical wolves for less.
And he couldn’t even remember doing anything!
In fact, even given his full bladder, he suspected from signs that he hadn’t done anything. Not that it would matter.
Shit. Time to find out if he’d have a pissed-off boss or a very pissed-off boss.
“Hi, lover,” Bast said as he rolled over.
* * *
“Bast, not that I’m not glad to see you…” Herzer said as he came out of the bathroom. He clutched his head and groaned, before going on. “But… how did you get in here? This place is supposed to be surrounded by guards.”
“Am I not Bast?” the wood elf said, sliding out of the bed. The elf was barely a meter and a quarter tall and perfectly formed with long, curly, raven-black hair, high, firm breasts and a body that was toned but not, apparently, muscular. She was naked, her standard garment, winter and summer, of a leather bikini on the floor by the bed. She had the body of a fourteen-year-old, and often the personality, but Herzer knew she was over a thousand years old.
“Am I not the greatest sneak in the world? Do you think your simpleton marines can stop me?”
Elves had been created at the dawn of the age of the Net as super-soldiers by the North American Union. Although they looked mostly human, they were not Changed humans but an entirely different species. At the time of the Fall the majority of them lived in a separated dimension called Elfheim. The sundering from humans had occurred around the time of the AI wars, when it became obvious that two sentient species were not going to be able to coexist on earth. The wood elves had been created at about the same time as soldiers for the Nissei Corporation. At least, Bast was. If there were any other wood elves in existence, Herzer hadn’t heard of them. He and Bast had been on and off lovers since shortly after the Fall.
“No,” Herzer said, sitting down on the bed and clutching his head. “I don’t suppose you have any aspirin?”
“Have I not told you to take aspirin before you go to bed?” she asked, bringing him a glass of water and a pill. “And a big drink of water. Of course, when I got here Rachel was being sick in your bathroom, you were passed out on a floor and a half-naked ensign was passed out on top of you. So this once, I forgive you.”
“Where’s Van Krief?” Herzer asked, draining the cup and taking the pill.
“The pretty blonde?” the elf asked. “I managed to get her conscious enough for directions to her room and carried her there. She didn’t seem to be in any condition to help. Not that you were, either.” She laid her hand on his head and murmured for a moment and Herzer felt the effects of the hangover miraculously disappear.
“God, Bast, you’re a drunkard’s dream,” Herzer said, taking her in his arms.
“Good thing for you.” She smiled. “Now, go take shower, you smell like goat. Then come back here and I make you smell like one again. And if the pretty little blonde turns up, tell her you’re busy. It’s been a long time and I’m not sharing.”
* * *
“My my, look what the cat drug in,” Daneh said as Herzer and Bast entered the room.
It was past noon but it was clear that everyone in the room was on their first meal of the day. And all of them were nursing hangovers.
“Daneh, my friend, your daughter very well brought up is. Is even polite when being sick.”
“Oh, gods, was that you?” Rachel groaned. “I thought it was Van Krief.”
“Wasn’t me,” the ensign muttered, looking from the elf to Herzer and back. “You must be Bast.”
“Indeedy.” Bast grinned, pulling out a chair and flopping down. She snagged a plate and pulled over a tureen filled with scrambled eggs. “We’ve met.”
“I don’t recall when,” Van Krief said, thinly.
“Last night, carried back to your room did I,” Bast said, grinning again.
“I don’t remember most of last night,” the ensign said after a moment.
“I do,” Bast replied. “Humans shouldn’t drink, can’t handle their liquor.”
Herzer was mentally cringing. Bast was usually blunt about sex to the point of pornography. But he noticed that she was carefully avoiding the subject of where Van Krief had been when the elf carried her back to her room. That was, for Bast, unbelievably circumspect and tactful.
“Of course, if another try at Herzer want, wait until this afternoon; sure he’ll be up to it by then.”
So much for circumspect.
“Bast,” Edmund said, carefully. “We were all pretty drunk last night. I think that it’s best if we just avoid the whole subject. Okay?”
“Okay,” Bast said, taking a bite of egg. “How about the subject of Chansa putting out contract?”
“Even that is preferable,” Daneh replied.
“Is all around the town,” Bast continued. “Open contract is. Was to stop I was coming. Late. Sorry.”
“Funny that I didn’t get any word,” Edmund replied. “T’s usually better about that. Where did you hear about it?”
“Was approached,” Bast shrugged. “Killed the man who asked, did I. Very stupid man. Thou
ght jealous would I be of young ensign.”
“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.”
