destroyer
Hidoiame
that
Walker
recently fought. The gaunt man was new to his Ministry of Strategic Intelligence, but even so, Adar thought he’d said some very unintelligent things at that last meeting. Herring nodded, apparently accepting the implied rebuke.
“That said, the situation there remains perilous, if not desperate.
I
do not consider it desperate, because we will do something about it very soon. The preparations have already begun. Before we discuss those and form a final plan of action, I must tell you”—he looked at Herring again—“that I have sent a personal message to Gen-er-aal Aalden assuring him of our undiminished, unanimous support. I also directed him to order General Queen Safir Maraan to Saa-lon. . . .” He sighed, then actually chuckled. “But the wireless office informs me that
Gen-er-aal
Maraan regrets that
Queen
Maraan must decline the, ah, request. She will not abandon her corps, and I cannot say I blame her.”
“But who else can command the army in Saa-lon if it is to relieve Gen-er-aal Aalden?” a colonel in the B’mbaadan delegation cried. That strategy had been the most discussed so far, and Safir Maraan was the Queen Protector of B’mbaado. Adar held up a hand. “Whether
that
army moves or not has yet to be decided, and we do have other experienced gen-er-aals now, you know. Besides, I have not given up on her. You forget, we control the sky.” He smiled at the irony of a Sky Priest saying such a sacrilegious thing, but it was true in this context. “We can fly people in and out of the perimeter at will. She or Gen-er-aal Rolak—perhaps even Gen-er-aal Aalden himself may accept another command when we are nearer ready to strike, although I would rather Gen-er-aal Aalden coordinate the entire campaign from
Salissa
when the time comes.”
“Fat chance,” Commander Alan Letts blurted, then blinked apology, his fair skin turning red with embarrassment. Letts was chief of staff to both Adar and Captain Reddy, in Matt Reddy’s persona of Supreme Commander of all Allied Forces. He’d also evolved from an arguably lazy supply officer to become Minister of Logistics and Planning.
“My sentiments as well,” Adar agreed, “but with the miracle of wireless and the new tee-bee-ess voice communications, I suppose he can coordinate the fight from wherever he prefers.”
“Discussing commands and who should have them strikes me as premature when our armies have been savaged and our fleets blown from the sea!” shouted the Sularan representative.
The crowd erupted in protest. The outburst was absurd, particularly coming from someone who, like most landed families across the strait on Saa-leebs, fled the Grik when they came against Baalkpan. A regiment of Sularans
had
stayed and even fought in that terrible battle. Many more Sularans were in the Allied armies and Amer-i-caan Navy now.
But
somehow,
Adar thought with an almost embarrassed flash,
the excrement always floats to the top.
“Our armies suffered, true,” he conceded. “But the Grik did not destroy them, despite a numerical advantage on a scale we have never faced before. The Navy was far from ‘blown from the sea,’ and we lost only three ships outright in the Battle of Ma-draas. Others were damaged, but counting the transports, the Navy destroyed perhaps a
hundred
enemy vessels! All our armies and the Amer-i-caan Navy and Maa-reens are already prepared to fight again—and we are sending them a great deal more with which to do it!” He gestured at Alan but continued. “Our shipbuilding continues to surge at a pace that frankly astonishes me,” he confessed. “You all have seen it. The sheer scope of the new construction has taken on a life of its own, and I honestly concern myself most with how we shall ever
crew
the Navy!” He smiled, but blinked sadness, looking around the room. “The old world is entirely gone, I fear, and sometimes I feel I could hate our Amer-i-caan allies for what they have
Hidoiame
that
Walker
recently fought. The gaunt man was new to his Ministry of Strategic Intelligence, but even so, Adar thought he’d said some very unintelligent things at that last meeting. Herring nodded, apparently accepting the implied rebuke.
“That said, the situation there remains perilous, if not desperate.
I
do not consider it desperate, because we will do something about it very soon. The preparations have already begun. Before we discuss those and form a final plan of action, I must tell you”—he looked at Herring again—“that I have sent a personal message to Gen-er-aal Aalden assuring him of our undiminished, unanimous support. I also directed him to order General Queen Safir Maraan to Saa-lon. . . .” He sighed, then actually chuckled. “But the wireless office informs me that
Gen-er-aal
Maraan regrets that
Queen
Maraan must decline the, ah, request. She will not abandon her corps, and I cannot say I blame her.”
“But who else can command the army in Saa-lon if it is to relieve Gen-er-aal Aalden?” a colonel in the B’mbaadan delegation cried. That strategy had been the most discussed so far, and Safir Maraan was the Queen Protector of B’mbaado. Adar held up a hand. “Whether
that
army moves or not has yet to be decided, and we do have other experienced gen-er-aals now, you know. Besides, I have not given up on her. You forget, we control the sky.” He smiled at the irony of a Sky Priest saying such a sacrilegious thing, but it was true in this context. “We can fly people in and out of the perimeter at will. She or Gen-er-aal Rolak—perhaps even Gen-er-aal Aalden himself may accept another command when we are nearer ready to strike, although I would rather Gen-er-aal Aalden coordinate the entire campaign from
Salissa
when the time comes.”
“Fat chance,” Commander Alan Letts blurted, then blinked apology, his fair skin turning red with embarrassment. Letts was chief of staff to both Adar and Captain Reddy, in Matt Reddy’s persona of Supreme Commander of all Allied Forces. He’d also evolved from an arguably lazy supply officer to become Minister of Logistics and Planning.
“My sentiments as well,” Adar agreed, “but with the miracle of wireless and the new tee-bee-ess voice communications, I suppose he can coordinate the fight from wherever he prefers.”
“Discussing commands and who should have them strikes me as premature when our armies have been savaged and our fleets blown from the sea!” shouted the Sularan representative.
The crowd erupted in protest. The outburst was absurd, particularly coming from someone who, like most landed families across the strait on Saa-leebs, fled the Grik when they came against Baalkpan. A regiment of Sularans
had
stayed and even fought in that terrible battle. Many more Sularans were in the Allied armies and Amer-i-caan Navy now.
But
somehow,
Adar thought with an almost embarrassed flash,
the excrement always floats to the top.
“Our armies suffered, true,” he conceded. “But the Grik did not destroy them, despite a numerical advantage on a scale we have never faced before. The Navy was far from ‘blown from the sea,’ and we lost only three ships outright in the Battle of Ma-draas. Others were damaged, but counting the transports, the Navy destroyed perhaps a
hundred
enemy vessels! All our armies and the Amer-i-caan Navy and Maa-reens are already prepared to fight again—and we are sending them a great deal more with which to do it!” He gestured at Alan but continued. “Our shipbuilding continues to surge at a pace that frankly astonishes me,” he confessed. “You all have seen it. The sheer scope of the new construction has taken on a life of its own, and I honestly concern myself most with how we shall ever
crew
the Navy!” He smiled, but blinked sadness, looking around the room. “The old world is entirely gone, I fear, and sometimes I feel I could hate our Amer-i-caan allies for what they have
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