Bahrns had felt his face heat, but, fortunately, the high admiral had continued before he had to try to come up with some sort of a response.
“At any rate,” he’d said more briskly, taking his hand from the captain’s shoulder and turning back to Destroyer’s rail, “between the damage to the Delthak Works and the need to provide the Army’s artillery, it’s going to be at least four more months before we’re able to complete the armament for the class. But by taking the two undamaged ten-inchers from the works and combining them with the proofing guns, we were able to put together the main battery for one King Haarahld-class—this one.” He jutted his chin at the enormous vessel. “Duke Delthak tells me she’ll be ready for trials in three five-days.”
“But surely a captain had already been assigned, My Lord? For that matter, captains must’ve been assigned to all of them. Wouldn’t it make more sense to give her to someone who’s been associated with the building program from the beginning?”
“Yes, we’d assigned captains. We didn’t exactly pick them at random, either, and we’d given this one to Zhorj Mahlrunee. I believe you know him?”
“Yes, My Lord, I do. Very well, in fact.” Bahrns had frowned. “He was first officer in Sea Shrike when I was a snotty. May I ask why he isn’t still assigned to her? He’s one of the finest officers I know!”
The concern in his voice had been obvious, and Rock Point had sighed
“I’m sorry, Captain—I thought you knew. Captain Mahlrunee was called home to Chisholm. It wasn’t an easy decision for him or for us, but his wife was killed in an accident.”
“Ahnalee is dead?” Bahrns had stared at the high armiral. Ahnalee Mahlrunee was the widow of a brother officer; she and Zhorj had been married for less than two years, and they had three young children, two of them hers by her previous marriage.
“I’m afraid so,” Rock Point had confirmed. “Just one of those stupid things. But you probably know he’d moved his parents to Chisholm after his marriage?”
The high admiral had cocked an eyebrow, and Bahrns nodded, Mahlrunee’s mother and father were quite elderly, and his only living sibling was also a Navy officer. Since both of them had been constantly at sea, Ahnahlee had insisted their parents move to Chisholm where she could care for them.
“He was devastated by the news,” Rock Point continued, “and his brother’s at sea in Baron Sarmouth’s squadron, so there was literally no one else to care for his family. Under the circumstances, he requested relief and went on inactive duty—with my complete support. Some duties take priority over anything else, and this is damned well one of them! But it left us with a bit of a personnel problem, and when I asked him to recommend his relief, he picked you. To be honest, we’d already ordered you home to give you one of the new City-class, so I wasn’t inclined to accept his recommendation at the time. It was only after you were in transit that Duke Delthak’s people completed their damage survey and determined we had the artillery to complete one King Haarahld, after all. Their Majesties picked this one, and that meant she needed a captain fast.”
Bahrns’ expression had shouted the question he’d been unable to ask, and Rock Point had chuckled sourly.
“As it happens, Captain, the ship’s construction was at least as advanced as any of the others’. The only one they might have picked instead was King Haarahld VII, and her boilers are … less than satisfactory, let’s say.” The high admiral had shrugged. “It doesn’t happen often with the Delthak Works, but even Duke Delthak’s people occasionally screw up. In fact, we’d already discovered we had to rip them out and start over again, and getting that done had dropped in priority when we didn’t think we’d have the guns for any of them. We hadn’t made much progress on that little chore when we found out we could complete one, so there really wasn’t another candidate. After all,” he’d showed Bahrns his teeth, “we don’t want anyone in the Gulf of Dohlar … misconstruing our message.”
“No, My Lord. I can see that,” Bahrns had said, his eyes on the name emblazoned in golden letters on the cliff-like side of the enormous ship’s bow.
“HMS Gwylym Manthyr” those letters had said.
* * *
“Well, Captain?”
The man standing at Halcom Bahrns’ side had to raise his voice over the sound of rushing wind and water, and Bahrns turned to him courteously.
“Should I assume she passes muster?” he continued with a slight smile, and there was nothing at all slight about Bahrns’ answering smile.
“Oh, I think you can assume that, Your Grace!” he told the recently ennobled Duke of Delthak. “Langhorne! I thought Delthak was incredible when you and High Admiral Rock Point gave her to me, but this—!”
He waved one arm in a wide arc, taking in the long, lethal barrels of her guns, the white water bursting away from either bow, the wind of her passage humming in the signal halyards, and the broad deck—vibrating to the throbbing pulse beat of her mighty engines, yet steady as a rock underfoot, despite her headlong charge across the bay—and shook his head.
“I can understand why the details were so closely held,” he continued, “but I never would’ve imagined what they really were. This ship—this single ship—is more powerful than every other warship in the entire world!”
“That might be a little bit of an exaggeration,” Ehdwyrd Howsmyn said judiciously. “And she’s not designed just to engage other navies, either. To be honest, I suspect that’s another reason Baron Rock Point thought you’d be the proper man to command her. I believe you’re intended to be what His Majesty calls ‘Earl Sharpfield’s Doorknocker’ when it’s time to … go calling on Gorath.”
“And I’m looking forward to the visit, Your Grace,” Bahrns said much more grimly.
“We all are,” Delthak assured him. “I knew Gwylym Manthyr.” He rested a hand on the bridge railing and looked out across the endless waters of the bay for a moment. “A lot of us have been waiting for his namesake’s voice to make itself heard. Do us proud, Captain.”
“We will, Your Grace.” Bahrns met his gaze levelly. “Depend on that—we will.”
* * *
“If I’d realized Master Tahnguchi would shave three full five-days off his own best estimate, I might’ve delayed our visit to Rhaigair until she arrived, Ehdwyrd,” Dunkyn Yairley said, studying the recorded satellite imagery of HMS Gwylym Manthyr’s final acceptance trials. “A lot of people who’re dead now might not’ve been if I had, too.”
“As I recall, Dunkyn,” Cayleb Ahrmahk put in from his Siddar City study, just a bit tartly, “Lewk Cohlmyn is our overall commander for the Gulf of Dohlar. Forgive me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t that mean he got to pick the timing?”
“Well, yes, Your Majesty. But I could have argued instead of getting behind and pushing. And if I’d known she’d be available, I damned well would have!”
“Dunkyn, it could’ve been argued either way even if you’d known exactly when Manthyr was going to commission,” Domynyk Staynair said. “Every day we’d delayed would’ve been one more day for the Dohlarans to get their damned ‘sea-bombs’ into production and deployed, and not even a King Haarahld has an armored bottom. Then there were Zhwaigair’s coast-defense rockets, and those frigging twelve-inch rifles Duchairn and Maigwair had earmarked for Golden Grass and Cahstnyr. The first of Zhwaigair’s rockets would’ve arrived yesterday morning, and the first twelve-inch battery was less than a five-day behind them, I believe?”