“Are there sufficient excess supplies for what the general has ordered?” Herzer asked, calmly.
“Whether there are or not is beside the point,” the major said. “And don’t think that the ‘admiral’ can simply order me around. I don’t work for him, I work for Naval Logistics.”
“Is that your final answer?” Herzer asked, grinning.
“Yes, it is,” the major frowned.
“Okay, what we have here is a clear case of separation of operational and logistic function,” Herzer said, slipping into instructor mode. “There have been repeated instances in historical record where this has occurred, always to the detriment of the operational side. Given that fact, you leave me no recourse but to ensure you spend the rest of your military career as a stevedore on the docks.”
“You don’t have the authority for that,” the major smiled, thinly. “So you might as well take your threats out of my office.”
“Oh, I think I do,” Herzer replied, laying a sheet of paper on the table. “This is my authority, signed by Admiral Houser, releasing all stores in this vicinity, and all logistics personnel, to the control of the base commander. And item one in my report is that you’re a shit for brains that can’t get his lard butt out of his office.”
“Let me see that,” the major said, snatching up the paper.
“I’ll note that this is a copy of the original. The distribution list on the original included your office. So you’re clearly such a lard ass you didn’t even bother to read your mail. Now get your ass up and get out of the chair.”
“I don’t have to take that from you, Captain,” the major snarled, throwing the sheet of paper on the desk and pointing to his collar. “I’m a major. You’re a captain. And you don’t talk to me that way!”
“I’m a captain sent by your commander passing on an order that you failed to obey,” Herzer said, still smiling with a certain amount of strain. “I think you’d better wonder how many more minutes you’re going to be a major. Or, you know, you could get your ass in gear and start preparing for the arrival of the Fleet. Your choice.”
“We’ll see about this,” the major said. “There are channels for the ‘admiral’ to forward a request such as that. And the use of that material for nonoperational purposes is still against regulations. You can tell the ‘admiral’ that for me. Now get out of my office, Captain. You can consider yourself on report for insubordination.”
“What? Again?” Herzer said. “Have a nice day.”
Herzer strolled out of the office and through the headquarters beyond. Despite the fact that the fleet was limping back to port, just about out of rations and with heavy damage, the logistics headquarters for the base was not what he would call a sea of activity. In fact the well-manned office was filled mostly with clerks who were clearly trying to figure out something to do. Each of them had a desk, which was more than could be said for the temporary headquarters, and each of them had a pile of paperwork that they were supposedly working on. But the vast majority were chatting or obviously working so slowly they were just trying to pass the time.
Destrang fell into step with him as he walked through the outer office and into the sunshine beyond. Herzer took a deep breath and shook his head.
“What do you think?” he asked, looking towards the warehouses along the shore-front.
“Well, everybody is running around like chickens with their heads cut off over at headquarters,” Destrang said, rubbing his chin. “Sure doesn’t look like it’s filtered down, though.”
“True,” Herzer replied, stepping off towards the temporary fleet headquarters. “I can’t think but that I might have handled that better.”
Edmund had actually moved the “war-room” out of the headquarters and into tents set up on a nearby field. His ostensible reason for this was that way the dragons could participate in discussions. Herzer knew it was widely suspected that the new admiral was just trying to put the Navy in its place. And he also knew that there was more than a gram of truth to the suspicion.
The area had been roped off and marines were stationed around it to prevent unauthorized entry. They knew better than to try to stop the general’s aides and as Herzer walked through the entrance he nodded at the sergeant on duty.
“Wonderful day, eh?” Herzer said, smiling.
“Lovely, sir,” the sergeant replied. “Can’t wait for it to rain, frankly.”
In the two days since the headquarters destruction Herzer had found time to work out with the marines. He found them to be woefully undertrained by Blood Lord standards, but he knew that was a high standard. The marines, however, had developed a reputation for ability and Herzer had to wonder if it was anything but a reputation. They made much of being able to stake out bars, but with either boarding pikes or short swords even Van Krief had been able to take them with laughable ease. It was something in the back of his mind to discuss with Edmund. If there was ever time.
“How’d it go?” Edmund asked as he entered the tent reserved for the commander.
“I’m on report for insubordination,” Herzer admitted. “Something about calling a major a lard ass.”
“Well, was he? And do we have a party for the troops laid on?”
“Sailors,” Herzer corrected. “No we don’t and yes he was. Those materials are for the supply of the Fleet, not for a damned party.”
“That’s what he thinks,” Edmund replied. “You showed him the letter? Hadn’t he received a copy?”
“I don’t know if he had or not,” Herzer said, shrugging. “But when I gave him the copy he still felt constrained to point out that it was against regulations to use the materials in that manner. He also pointed out that there were ‘proper channels’ for such a ‘request.’ ”
“Oh, he did did he?” Edmund asked. “I’ve sent down that request twice through the G-4. I think it’s time for the G-4 and me to have a little chat.” Edmund leaned back and tugged at his beard for a moment, then shook his head. “No, it’s not, come to think of it. What was that major’s name?”
“Spearman.”
Edmund reached into his desk and rummaged until he came up with a manning chart.
“Wait a second,” Edmund said, pulling out a fountain pen and writing rapidly, consulting the manning chart from time to time. He handed the paper to Herzer and gestured to the main tent. “Go have a copy made of that, then carry the copy over to the G-4. Just hand it to him and leave.”
“Righto,” Herzer said, glancing at the paper and shaking his head. “Who is Colonel Trahn?”
“According to my manning chart he’s now my G-4,” Edmund said, looking back down at his desk which was just about covered in paper. “Let’s hope he has the sense not to be passive aggressive with me like his former boss.”
As Herzer exited the tent he nodded at the major who was entering. The man was tall and spare, clean shaven and with a very short haircut. It took him a moment to remember where he had seen him before.
“Major.” Herzer nodded.
“Captain Herzer,” Joel Travante said. “Congratulations on the promotion.”
“Congratulations on yours… sir,” Herzer said, his brow furrowing.
“It’s a lot easier to move around a military base in uniform,” Joel said, then frowned. “I’d like to pick your brain sometime, Captain.”
“About?” Herzer asked.
“In a more private venue,” Joel grinned. “Call it… ground combat issues.”