“I was thinking about those landings,” the skipper said. “And I really hate them.”
“Not as much as the person on the dragon, ma’am,” Vickie said with a grin.
“And I really hate not being able to look at the sky when I’m on the quarterdeck,” Karcher continued. “And I was wondering: why not put the platform off the rear of the ship?”
Vickie opened her mouth to respond and then closed it. After a moment she shook her head, angrily.
“Because none of those geniuses at the shipyards thought of it, ma’am,” she replied, making a moue. “Do you think it would work?”
“I don’t see why not,” the captain said, shrugging and giving a little hum that sounded suspiciously like a purr. “We’d have to brace it, but that’s not a problem. You already take off from back there. This would just make it easier. And I didn’t come up with it, one of my seamen did. Good sailor who wants to be a rider methinks.”
“What’s his name?” Vickie said, pulling out a notebook and unwrapping it from the rubber cover. “We’re really shorthanded on the Powells, ma’am.”
“Fink,” Karcher replied. “Hers, by the way.”
“Well, ma’am, tell her that if you’ll approve the transfer she can start as soon as she gets back to land,” Vickie said. She tilted her head to one side, started to say something and then shrugged.
“Yes, Rider?” Karcher said, her face unreadable behind its catlike smile.
“I was wondering…”
“Did I Change before the Fall?” Karcher said in an odd intonation. Again, very like a meow. “No, I did not. This was how I was born. Do you want the long story or the short one?”
“Whichever you feel appropriate, ma’am,” Vickie said, uncomfortably. “I’m not trying to pry.”
“Once upon a time, a long time ago, there was a scientist who was, frankly, a bit cracked. It was at the very beginning of the time when Change became possible. But this scientist didn’t want to Change himself into a cat. He wanted his cat to be a human.”
“Oh,” Vickie said, uncomfortably.
“And, yes, it was for the reason that you think. So, and this was before the protocols were put in place to prevent this sort of thing, he Changed his cat into a humanoid sentient. And the rest of the story should be that they fell in love and lived happily ever after.”
“Yes,” Vickie said, now extremely sorry that she had asked.
“Well, the story didn’t go exactly as he had planned. Cats are cats, after all, even if you make them sentient, and the cat, already angry enough when she found out her name was ‘Muffins,’ was having none of it. She left him and broke his heart. On the other hand, she eventually did find a human male she thought was reasonably attractive and settled down and had a litter. From which litter I derive. Any questions?”
“No, ma’am,” the rider said, her face working.
“Don’t ask me if I chase mice, okay?”
“Oh no, ma’am, wouldn’t think of it.” Pause. “May I ask one question, ma’am?”
The captain nodded.
“How do you stand with dogs?”
“I have threeÑRottweilers. When I say ‘heel,’ they heel,” Karcher said with a grin that exposed very prominent canine teeth. “I have to admit that climbing the rigging when I’m stressed is very… natural.”
Vickie laughed again and closed her notebook. “Rain’s cleared?”
“Yes.”
“Well, ma’am, I think it’s time for us to head back to base.”
“We’re due back day after tomorrow,” Karcher said. “You could probably ride back.”
“No, we need to keep doing work-ups, ma’am,” Vickie replied. “For our sins.”
“Evan, you’re on time,” Edmund said, taking off his reading glasses and looking up from the desk. “Mr. Ennesby, how are you today?”
“Wet,” Tom Ennesby said, taking off his broad-brimmed hat and shaking it to the side.
“Bad news, Duke,” Evan said. “We’re going to be at least a day late with the Herman Chao.”
The dreadnought, which was being converted to an anti-dragon ship, was one of the three that had been ready for sea.
“What’s the problem?” Edmund asked. “Anything I can do?”
“Not really.” Evan sighed. “We’re short on materials for the air-guns. Basically I had to convert so many of them for the Silverdrake that it’s leaving the Chao short. We’re hoping to have the materials in a couple of days, but it’s going to set us back by at least that long.”
“How short?”
“About half,” Ennesby said. “We’re mounting fifteen guns per side. We’ve got sufficient compression for all of them on the Chao, but we’re short on material for the guns and on lines. The latter’s not really from the Silverdrake; we’d be short anyway. And running them, firing them accurately, is going to take some training. I don’t know how accurate the gunners are going to be at first.”
“And lord knows you don’t want those damned bolts raining down on the ship,” Edmund chuckled. “Any good news?”
“Vickie brought in a change to the Silverdrake landing that I want to distribute to all the support ships. Skipper Karcher pointed out that there’s no reason the Silverdrake landing platform has to be over the quarterdeck. The Silverdrake land on a dime as it is. So she’s moving her platform off to the rear. It looks like it will work and if it does we’re planning on having everyone change over. The current landing method… leaves a lot to be desired.”
“That it does,” Edmund replied.
“I should let Vickie or Commander Gramlich report on this,” Ennesby said. “But the Silverdrake that have been training with the bolt system report that they think it will work. We made some targets, big kites really, and they’ve been learning how to target them. It’s still a point-blank system, though.”
“Well, we’re still going to want the anti-air dreadnoughts,” Edmund sighed. “I’ll send a message to the commanders of the ships that are ready for sea to get out there and start training. Make sure we’ve got plenty of darts.”
“Will do,” Ennesby said.
“How long to get the remaining dreadnoughts ready for sea?”
“No more than a week,” Ennesby said. “We’re stepping masts now. But we don’t have crews.”
“I’ll see about crews,” Edmund said. “Don’t convert them to anti-dragon platforms, though, that’s not what they’re going to be used for.”
They both looked at him for clarification until it was clear none was coming.
“That’s all we’ve got,” Evan said, standing up.
“And I’ve got a meeting with the G-1 next,” Edmund replied, glancing up at the door. “Speaking of crews.”
“I’m out of here,” Ennesby said. “Before your body-hunter decides I’d make a good sailor.”
“Bring me any more information you think I need,” Edmund pointed out. “Anything.”
“We’ve finally gotten information from our agents at Newfell, Marshal.”
Chansa looked up from his paperwork and waved the aide into the room, practically snatching the document from his hand.
“Bloody hellfire,” Chansa snarled. He was a fast reader and had scanned for the worst possible information. Besides the fact that they hadn’t gotten the Richard, the worse news was buried in the fine print. “Talbot.”
“Yes, sir,” the aide gulped.
“I can see why you were sent in with it,” Chansa growled then laughed. “I promise I won’t kill the messenger. But go find Conner. Now.”
The man who entered was tall and ascetic looking with a calm manner that was belied by his eyes. The irises of the latter were white and his pupils were tiny black dots.