Edmund thought about that and sighed.
“Get them ready for sea, loaded with wyvern food and ketchup,” he said.
“Sir, we’re… out of ketchup,” Kabadda admitted.
“Oh, grand,” Joanna said. “In that case, I want those bullocks cooked, General.”
“Care to amplify that, Kabadda?” Edmund sighed. “Never mind. Get them ready with all the salt beef and pork you have available. Canned if you have it. Or smoked fish. Anything protein with high fat content. And find some ketchup.”
“Yes, sir,” the chief of staff said.
“There’s another carrier out there, somewhere,” Edmund muttered.
“Agreed, sir,” Kabadda said. “The geometry is impossible for the ones that struck the fleet to have struck here as well.”
“Lieutenant Asfaw.”
“Sir?” the mer said.
“Ask Jason to get some delphinos deployed over this way,” Edmund said. “Find that damned carrier.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t want to be dealing with these details, Kabadda,” Edmund said. “Get the supplies collected, stat. Handle it.”
“Yes, sir,” the chief of staff replied.
“But get at least a couple of hours sleep sometime tonight; it’s gonna be a long day.”
As the chief of staff hurried away, Edmund dropped the chair back to the dock and leaned over to look at the mer.
“So, what do you think?”
“I think I’m glad you took over,” Asfaw replied.
“Well, you’ll find I’m going to be poking into your affairs more than Draskovich did,” Edmund said. “So, anything you need down there?”
“Honestly?” the mer asked, surprised.
“Honestly.”
“General,” the mer said, trying not to sound angry. “This bottom is mud. We’ve got the choice of trying to hold our position in the current or hold onto the dock or lie in the mud. It’s like, six meters deep. You tend to sink. Frankly, sir, it sucks.”
“So, you wanna chair?” Edmund asked.
“Something,” the mer replied with a shrug.
“Herzer?” Edmund said.
“Got it,” Herzer replied. “The mer need something to sit on.”
“Anything else?” Edmund asked.
“Oh, lots, General,” the mer replied. “The message system sucks. Our quarters suck. There needs to be more than one of us mer and one delphino here. I could go on and on.”
“Herzer… no, Destrang, sit here and listen to the mer and delphino litany of complaints,” Edmund said. “And pick up anything coming in from the fleet that you think I really need to know. I’m going to bed. Nobody is going to be making sense before morning. Joanna, what are you still doing here?”
“Waiting for daybreak,” the dragon replied. “If I’m going that far, I’m going to need all the thermals I can get.”
“Herzer,” Edmund said. “We need dragon resupply points along the coast. Nothing elaborate, just a stockade with some beef cattle or pigs and somewhere for the dragons to land. And more wyvern for messengers; they don’t have to be carrier qualified. As a matter of fact, it’ll be a good place to train young riders and wyverns. Joanna, leave as soon as you think wise, but the sooner the better. And that’s it, I’m done.” He got up and carried the chair back up to the pier.
“Thanks, son,” he said, handing it to the messenger.
“You’re welcome, sir,” the messenger replied.
“Have a nice night,” Edmund said as he walked off into the fire-lit darkness.
“Attention on deck!” someone called as Edmund walked into the reestablished headquarters. There simply wasn’t anywhere to put it at the docks so for the time being it had moved to the officers’ club. A cold front was in the offing and he appreciated the shorter walkÑthe O-Club was practically next door to the VIP quartersÑbut it didn’t mean he wasn’t planning on getting everything moved as soon as possible.
“Rest,” he called, waving his hand and looking first at the large map someone had pinned up on the wall. The map was clearly hand drawn, and hastilyÑseveral of the landforms were wrongÑbut it gave him a good approximation of what was going on. The approximate position of both fleets were marked as were other units at sea, most of whom were heading for the nearest secure port. The best part was the weather markings of the large storm, a “nor’easter” that had blown up.
“They’re going to get caught by the storm,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” Kabadda replied, walking over with a mug of coffee in his hand. He handed it to the admiral and Edmund took it uneasily.
“I can get my own coffee, Kabadda,” Edmund said, but he took a sip anyway. It was the way he liked it, almost a syrup with sugar and cream. Somebody had done their homework.
“We’re not quite prepared with the briefing, sir,” Kabadda said. “But we will be by 0900.”
“I doubt it,” Edmund replied. “I don’t want the short dog and pony show that you guys put on before. I need full information on all ships. What we know of their stores, information about their captains’ background and experience. I need all the intel we have on the enemy, same deal. I heard something, during the attack, about the dragons being shot at. I want information on that as soon as possible. The briefing will include as much as we know about the condition of the dragons on our ships as well as crew condition. And, especially, how long for the fleet to return and our estimated material condition when they get here. When they get in I want food waiting for them, bands playing, slaughtered carcasses for the dragons, a barbeque for the crews and decent onshore housing for everyone. They’re going to have serious casualties; I need to know the condition of our hospital establishment. We need a casualty list from them before they arrive. We’re going to have to take much the same fleet out, again, and this time we’re going to have to win. We’re not going to do that with troops that are demoralized. So the first thing we’re going to be working on is morale. Clear?”
“Yes, sir,” the chief of staff said.
“There are four aspects to winning a battle. Battle plans, which includes adequate intel, leadership, material, and morale. We are going to have a set of the first that work, bet on it. The second I’m going to be looking into carefully; what I’ve seen so far does not thrill me. The third we’re going to have to make or steal. The fourth has several parts. One of them is adequate living conditions and the knowledge that the others are as good as you can make them. When the Fleet sails again, the sailors, NCOs and officers are going to have to know that this time they are going to kick ass and not even bother taking names. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Send a message to the Fleet. I need information on conditions on every ship. If they don’t have a dispatch sloop, get one out to them. And tell the mer to find that other carrier. I don’t want to be surprised again. If it’s retired, and I’d bet it has, we’ll send out the resupply vessels.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, assign one of your officers to show me around the base facilities,” Edmund finished. “I can look into that. We’ll have the brief this afternoon. If anything comes up that needs my immediate attention, send a runner.”
“There is a large amount of paperwork, sir,” Kabadda said. “Most of it is addressed to the commander.”
“Anything that’s not from either Mike Spehar or Sheida have one of your people open and read. I’m not going to be handling correspondence from every dime-store clerk in an officer’s, or general’s, uniform that wants to joggle my elbow or know some stupid minutiae. Handle it.”