Against the Tide

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.”

“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.”