Edmund shook his head and waved at the desk. "She already had me sleep in. I've got reams of paperwork to catch up on."
"All of it will wait," Herzer said, walking around the desk and lifting up on Edmund's arm. "Don't even think about fighting. I'm younger and faster than you."
"Age and treachery beats youth and speed every time," Edmund growled. But he stood up.
"Well, once we get drunk enough, maybe we can put it to the test," Herzer chuckled. "Come on, boss, times a wastin'."
"You sound like Bast when you say that," Edmund chuckled. "Speaking of which, you gotten your tubes cleaned lately?"
"No, more's the pity," Herzer replied, frowning. "When we got here we were running around like chickens with our heads cut off. And since then the only female contact I've had is with subordinates. And I don't even want to go there after the day I just had. Especially since that idiot decision of mine to set up The Mast."
"I thought that was brilliant," Edmund said as they strode past the ring of guards around the headquarters.
"So did I," Herzer growled. "And I thought putting it up where the commander could watch was brilliant as well. Then I noticed that when they're running up the ratlines, well. let's just say that there are some fine butts in that class. And they're getting finer every week!"
Edmund laughed and clapped him on the back as they crossed the blacked-out road.
"Don't worry, I'm sure your lackanookie condition won't." He spun sideways as a sword lashed out of the darkness, then spun again as another attacker came from his off-side.
Herzer and Edmund were unarmed but that didn't last long. There was a crack of a broken arm and a scream as Herzer spun sideways, hurling one of the attackers into the roadway. But he had retained the assassin's short sword and he tossed it overhand to Edmund as the admiral flipped his cloak in the face of another attacker. Edmund caught the sword and skewered one of the assassins through the neck, then tossed the dead assassin's sword to Herzer. After that it became somewhat bloody.
Herzer parried a blade and used the same trick with the cloak to wrap up one of the attackers, running his blade across the man's throat and throwing the thrashing body onto one that had closed on Edmund's back.
Edmund now had two blades and was moving forward through the group, the blades acting as if they had a will of their own. An arm thumped the ground followed by a head and Herzer used the distraction of the blood from the spurting stump to kill another half-blind assassin. He felt a cut across his shoulder but turned and jabbed backwards, killing the man behind him, then kicked out at one to his front. As the attacker bent double Herzer drove the blade of the sword into the side of his neck and outward, slashing his carotid artery and spilling more blood onto the soaked ground.
In moments it was over, two of the attackers running into the night as a group of lantern-bearing marines pounded across the road.
"Bloody hellfire," the sergeant choked, looking at the scattered pieces on the ground.
"Indeed," Edmund said, dropping one of his swords and cleaning the other on a bit of almost-clean cloth. "Herzer, I think I owe you a drink."
Herzer looked at the lamp-lit ground and counted. "I dunno. I think we're about even. Youth and speed might not beat age and treachery."
"Do we get cleaned up?" Edmund asked, looking at his blood-soaked uniform. "Or just go to the club?"
"They've got a dress-code," Herzer pointed out, chuckling.
"Ah, they make exceptions for admirals," Edmund said, walking towards the doors of the club and into the night.
* * *
"Hey, Van Krief," Edmund said as they entered the main bar.
He'd heard the expression: "You could have heard a pin drop," but he'd never actually experienced it in his very long life. Now he really understood it. He actually heard, all the way across the club, a bartender set down the bottle he was holding. The faint "tap" was the only sound in the room for a moment.
"Good evening, sir," Van Krief said, getting up from the table by the door. "Are all the members of your staff alive?" She was a Blood Lord and be damned if she was going to react in shock to two blood-soaked officers walking into the main bar.
"Do me a favor, will you?" Edmund said, stripping off his uniform tunic. "Go get some clothes for Herzer and me while we go wash up." He took the short sword and tossed it overhand across the room, so hard that it stuck in the wall. "We had a spot of bother on the way over from headquarters."
* * *
"You could have been killed!" Daneh said, angrily.
"I very nearly was," Edmund replied, taking another sip of his drink. "Would have been if it wasn't for Herzer."
Daneh and Rachel had hurried over as soon as Van Krief had explained why she needed new clothes for Edmund and the major. The foursome, with Van Krief, Destrang and Tao at a nearby table, now had a corner of the bar all to themselves. Except for a hovering waiter who was watching them like a mouse watches a hovering falcon.
"Nah, you were doing fine on your own." Herzer chuckled, taking a deep pull off of his beer. "It was hairy for a second or two, though. You spotted them before I did, I'll give you that."
"Years of hard living, son," Edmund replied, shaking his head. "Years of hard living. Some habits die hard."
"You're going to need bodyguards," Rachel said.
"Yep," Talbot replied, grimly. "But the good news is, somebody doesn't like me."
"That's good news?" Daneh asked. "Since when?"
"It means someone considers him a threat," Herzer pointed out. "And whereas I'm sure there's more than one Navy officer who would love to shove a foot of steel in his back, I doubt that they were the source of the assassins."
"Which means Sheida's old friend Chansa," Edmund said. "Or, possibly, Paul. So that's the good news. The bad news is that it's not just me who will need guards, but you, Rachel and the squirt as well. Which is why there's already a team of marines over at the VIP quarters and more on the way."
"Yes, they would try to strike at you through us, wouldn't they?" Daneh asked, quietly.
"Yes, they would," Edmund replied. "Rachel, I hate to talk business but are you up to another long coach ride?"
"If I must," she said.
"Daneh, I'm going to put you to work," Edmund continued. "Special assistant for medical facilities or something. When the fleet comes back I want better medical care than the last time. I haven't been able to put enough emphasis on that as I'd like. You can. We're setting up another Fleet base in Balmoran, Rachel. I want you to go up there and get in on the ground floor on the medical facilities. You'll report to your mother; she'll report to me. The fleet can actually make for Balmoran better than they can for here, if we fight in the north again. The main thing that we'd be bringing in is casualties. I'd like the hospital up there to be top-notch. Okay?"
"Okay," Rachel said. "Can do. As long as I've got the personnel and funding."
"You'll have the funding if I have to go to the damned capitol and squeeze; personnel you're probably going to have to make yourself," Edmund replied. "And you won't be in charge, you'll be my eyes and ears. If you have suggestions and can get them implemented there, do so. If you have real problems, report it to Daneh. Understood?"
"Understood."
"Okay, now let's all get shit faced," Edmund said, draining his drink and waving it at the waiter.
"What if there are more assassins?" Daneh asked.
"Honey, when we walk back to the quarters we're going to be surrounded by a platoon of marines," Edmund replied. "Chansa may be able to get my drunk ass under those conditions, but he's by God going to have to work for it."
Chapter Fifteen
Herzer wasn't sure whether he was supporting Van Krief or she was supporting him when they got to his room. But he did know that it was a bad thing that both of them were there.
It had been an evening for learning. He'd learned that Destrang and Tao were light-weights. He'd learned that Daneh hiccupped when she got drunk. He'd learned that
Rachel just went to sleep. He'd learned that Van Krief had a hollow leg and a great singing voice. At least, it sounded great when he was drunk. And she knew some really good songs, not all of them fit for polite company.
To no one's surprise, Edmund knew more. But Herzer had been surprised that he also sang better. He'd never pictured Edmund as a singer, before. Bellower, yes, singer, no. Herzer had learned so much.
But he still had the problem of the door. And nothing that he learned was helping.
"Am I holding you up, or are you holding me up?" Herzer enunciated carefully.
"I think." Van Krief said, crinkling her brow. "I think we're holding each other up."
"Me too," Herzer said. If they were holding each other up, then they could only make it to one bedroom. That was bad.
"This is bad," he muttered.
"Oh, I don't think so," Van Krief giggled.
"This is a really bad idea," Herzer said, opening the door. "Really bad. I'll just. sleep on the floor or something."
"I don't think so," Van Krief repeated, giggling again. She stumbled away from him, kicked the door closed, stumbled again, and pulled her tunic off. "What do you think of that?"
"What?" Herzer asked, looking at the floor. It looked. really uncomfortable.
"These!" Van Krief said, pulling at a couple of buttons on her shirt and then giving up and ripping it open. "These!" she said again, pointing at her breasts.
"Pink nipples," he muttered, getting on his knees and kneeing over to her until he could lay his cheek on her midriff. "How much worse could it get?" He had just kissed her on the stomach when there was a knock on the door.
"Okay, this is worse," he said, pulling himself up with a hand on the bedstead.
Van Krief had fumbled her tunic on but the torn shirt was impossible to conceal. Herzer looked at her and shrugged as he opened the door.
"Herzer?" Rachel said, supporting herself on the doorframe. "Do you have a private bathroom?"
"Yes," Herzer said.
"Good, I'm going to be sick in it," Rachel replied, sliding off the doorframe and skidding to a halt when she saw Van Krief.
"Oh," Rachel said, her eyes blinking furiously.
"We were just dis-ss-cussing." Van Krief slurred.
"We were just discussing not having sex," Herzer continued, clapping his hand over the ensign's mouth. "Now the young ensign, who is also my subordinate, is going to support herself on the wall until she gets to her room, and her chaste bed, and I'm going to collapse into a drunken stupor. And you're going to go throw up."
At least that's what he'd meant to say. What came out was:
"Wubaa, ubba, nooob."
At which point the many, many shots of rum finally kicked in and gravity took over.
* * *
When Herzer opened his eyes the first thing he knew, with awful clarity, was that he was not in bed alone.
He remembered, too clearly, the night before. Right up to the point that both Rachel and Van Krief were in his room. Especially the point when Rachel and Van Krief had been in his room.
And now there was someone in his bed.
Rachel. now Rachel wouldn't be bad. Rachel he could live with. He'd be surprised, but not unpleased. But since he would be surprised, given that her interest in him as male seemed to be zero, it was much more likely to be Van Krief. And that would be. bad. He tried not to groan as he thought of the night before. He couldn't run away and join the Legion, he was already in it. Maybe start up a farm, find a rock to crawl under. This was a court-martial offense, damnit! He'd just tossed PO Lenice to the metaphorical wolves for less.
And he couldn't even remember doing anything!
In fact, even given his full bladder, he suspected from signs that he hadn't done anything. Not that it would matter.
Shit. Time to find out if he'd have a pissed-off boss or a very pissed-off boss.
"Hi, lover," Bast said as he rolled over.
* * *
"Bast, not that I'm not glad to see you." Herzer said as he came out of the bathroom. He clutched his head and groaned, before going on. "But. how did you get in here? This place is supposed to be surrounded by guards."
"Am I not Bast?" the wood elf said, sliding out of the bed. The elf was barely a meter and a quarter tall and perfectly formed with long, curly, raven-black hair, high, firm breasts and a body that was toned but not, apparently, muscular. She was naked, her standard garment, winter and summer, of a leather bikini on the floor by the bed. She had the body of a fourteen-year-old, and often the personality, but Herzer knew she was over a thousand years old.
"Am I not the greatest sneak in the world? Do you think your simpleton marines can stop me?"
Elves had been created at the dawn of the age of the Net as super-soldiers by the North American Union. Although they looked mostly human, they were not Changed humans but an entirely different species. At the time of the Fall the majority of them lived in a separated dimension called Elfheim. The sundering from humans had occurred around the time of the AI wars, when it became obvious that two sentient species were not going to be able to coexist on earth. The wood elves had been created at about the same time as soldiers for the Nissei Corporation. At least, Bast was. If there were any other wood elves in existence, Herzer hadn't heard of them. He and Bast had been on and off lovers since shortly after the Fall.
"No," Herzer said, sitting down on the bed and clutching his head. "I don't suppose you have any aspirin?"
"Have I not told you to take aspirin before you go to bed?" she asked, bringing him a glass of water and a pill. "And a big drink of water. Of course, when I got here Rachel was being sick in your bathroom, you were passed out on a floor and a half-naked ensign was passed out on top of you. So this once, I forgive you."
"Where's Van Krief?" Herzer asked, draining the cup and taking the pill.
"The pretty blonde?" the elf asked. "I managed to get her conscious enough for directions to her room and carried her there. She didn't seem to be in any condition to help. Not that you were, either." She laid her hand on his head and murmured for a moment and Herzer felt the effects of the hangover miraculously disappear.
"God, Bast, you're a drunkard's dream," Herzer said, taking her in his arms.
"Good thing for you." She smiled. "Now, go take shower, you smell like goat. Then come back here and I make you smell like one again. And if the pretty little blonde turns up, tell her you're busy. It's been a long time and I'm not sharing."
* * *
"My my, look what the cat drug in," Daneh said as Herzer and Bast entered the room.
It was past noon but it was clear that everyone in the room was on their first meal of the day. And all of them were nursing hangovers.
"Daneh, my friend, your daughter very well brought up is. Is even polite when being sick."
"Oh, gods, was that you?" Rachel groaned. "I thought it was Van Krief."
"Wasn't me," the ensign muttered, looking from the elf to Herzer and back. "You must be Bast."
"Indeedy." Bast grinned, pulling out a chair and flopping down. She snagged a plate and pulled over a tureen filled with scrambled eggs. "We've met."
"I don't recall when," Van Krief said, thinly.
"Last night, carried back to your room did I," Bast said, grinning again.
"I don't remember most of last night," the ensign said after a moment.
"I do," Bast replied. "Humans shouldn't drink, can't handle their liquor."
Herzer was mentally cringing. Bast was usually blunt about sex to the point of pornography. But he noticed that she was carefully avoiding the subject of where Van Krief had been when the elf carried her back to her room. That was, for Bast, unbelievably circumspect and tactful.
"Of course, if another try at Herzer want, wait until this afternoon; sure he'll be up to it by then."
So much for circumspect.
"Bast," Edmund said, carefully. "We were all pretty drunk last night. I think that it's best if we just avoid the whole su
bject. Okay?"
"Okay," Bast said, taking a bite of egg. "How about the subject of Chansa putting out contract?"
"Even that is preferable," Daneh replied.
"Is all around the town," Bast continued. "Open contract is. Was to stop I was coming. Late. Sorry."
"Funny that I didn't get any word," Edmund replied. "T's usually better about that. Where did you hear about it?"
"Was approached," Bast shrugged. "Killed the man who asked, did I. Very stupid man. Thought jealous would I be of young ensign."
John Ringo - Council Wars 03 - Against the Tide Page 18