AN: Next half will be later today as I'm finishing up, but I offered to post up this 'chapter' when I woke up if people couldn't wait a moment longer. Two have taken me up on that offer, so here it is. It's technically chapter length unto itself, but I think it's pretty obvious why I didn't want one big scene to be a 'whole' chapter :P---------------As the two guards outside – one Summerfield and the other a royal Marine – let him into the command room, William couldn’t help but note the emptiness of the place. Rather than the Queen and a small army of advisors like he’d been expecting, Tyana stood alone over a command table, staring over the many figurines on the map representing the war in miniature.
“You’re late,” she said without preamble – with a tone of voice that had no doubt terrified more than its fair share of knights and captains alike over the years.
Unfortunately for her, William was rather unphased. Disappointing authority figures was something he had two lifetimes worth of experience in, and as such her disapproval rolled off his back as easily as water did from a duck.
…And what did it say about him that he could think that about a fleet admiral while somehow being utterly terrified of two young women barely into their second century?
“Not without good cause. Despite the briskness of it, a few issues managed to pop up during my ‘honeymoon’. Issues that I’ve now resolved, or at least set people to resolving.” Shaking his head, he strode over to inspect a nearby cup of tea that had clearly gone cold some time ago. “I assumed that given the summons were a request and not an order, that you’d sooner my focus be getting our rocket and fuel supplies back on track.”
The elven princess grunted, but didn’t argue, seemingly taking his words at face value. Which was nice, because they were almost entirely truthful.
For once he wasn’t trying to be needlessly combative.
…Mostly.
“So,” he said. “Now that I am here, may I ask what it was you needed me for?”
“Shriekers,” the admiral said without preamble. “The enemy deployed one during my most recent fleet engagement – though it achieved little. We can’t always rely on that being the case though, and as such I need a counter.”
“You have one. Other Shriekers,” he responded without hesitation.
Tyana frowned. “This is not the time for jokes, Lord Summerfield.”
“I’m not joking”
He collapsed into a nearby chair as he spoke, thankful to get off his feet despite spending the majority of the last two days in bed. Unfortunately, his desire to use a bed for its intended function would need to wait a bit longer.
“We knew this would happen,” he said dryly. “The Shrieker isn’t that complicated. Not really. That the North would eventually make their own in response to ours was a foregone conclusion. The only surprising thing here is just how fast they’ve done it.”
He eyed the table, wondering which of the many little miniatures was supposed to represent a shrieker. “A week is not nearly long enough to build an entirely new type of craft that operates on markedly different principles to anything Lindholm has seen before.”
Tyana snorted. “Says the man who did just that.”
He shrugged. “I cheat.”
And neither of them needed him to expound on what exactly that meant. Though on that front, he had to wonder if the reason why she’d chosen to clear everyone else out prior to this meeting was because she’d assumed the topic of his harrowing would come up.
He was pleasantly surprised when she chuckled. “So how did the North accomplish the same task? Do you think they’re also… ‘cheating’.”
William considered it. “Perhaps. Or they copied ours. We lost one during that first raid, didn’t we?”
Tyana nodded – and given her expression, he doubted anything he was saying wasn’t something she’d not already considered. It was pretty obvious after all. It was more likely she was just waiting to see if he’d come up with some idea she hadn’t already had.
“Then it’s possible they managed to repair that and then sent it out against us. I assume our people managed to get a look at it?”
Tyana nodded, sliding a sheet of paper over to him. On it sat a sketch of a familiar looking shard.
But not too familiar, he thought as he looked it over.
Now, it was possible whoever drew this was just misremembering details, but more likely…
“It’s possible the Shrieker they recovered might have been badly damaged.” Smacking into the ground at close to mach speed would do that. “And we’re seeing the results of their best guesses at filling in the blanks far as repairs are concerned.”
Tyana made a hum that he assumed was agreement. Again, she’d likely already reached the same conclusion.
“How did it perform relative to our own shriekers?” he asked.
“We didn’t deploy our own in the same engagement, so it would be hard to make an informed comparison. With that said, from my own observations and that of my people, it seemed more… sluggish. Less agile.”
William nodded. “Yeah, then this was either a shoddy refurbishment or a crude prototype. Either way, they likely rushed it out as more of a morale booster than anything else. I don’t doubt we scared them with that first Shrieker attack, so now they’re showing their people that they can create similar craft.”
Tyana frowned. “That likely means the next Shrieker we see from them will be an improvement. And the one after that will be better still.”
William shrugged. “Probably. But it doesn’t matter.”
She stared at him.
“We have more cores than they do,” he said simply. “Even if they start copying our design and improving on it, we’ll still have more Shriekers than they do.”
…Assuming there weren’t any truly terrible upsets in the war where a lot of cores switched hands. Though to be honest, if that happened the South would have bigger problem than the North producing more Shriekers.
“They also won’t have rockets for a long time,” he added.
He wouldn’t say never. Because once you proved something could be done it was only a matter of time until someone replicated the feat. The confusion caused by alchemy kneecapping the development of chemistry in this world would help, but again, it was only a matter of time.
Though that might take years or decades. In truth, they’re more likely to figure it out by getting someone to spy on the production process, he thought. And on that front it doesn’t help that in the name of getting production started as soon as possible, I’ve not exactly been able to compartmentalize the process like I did in Redwater.
There was no world in which he’d be able to get his new workforce to swear the same geases Piper and her people did.
Which meant eventually something would leak. It always did.
All he could do was try and stay one step ahead of the game. Just as the princess opposite him was trying to do as she sighed and sank into her own seat. Idly, she reached for the cold cup of tea, before thinking better of it.
“It’s still not ideal,” she muttered. “I was hoping you might have something… cleaner for me.”
William could only shrug. “Nothing practical.”
And that was the truth – albeit truncated a bit.
Earth had obviously developed counters to near supersonic craft. The most obvious being supersonic craft – though given the rather unique advantages of the Shrieker relative to its earth-based equivalent, that wasn’t as cut and dry as one might think.
Unless he was willing to jump several steps up the tech tree, early jet engine craft might actually struggle with Shriekers. Not in speed, but in the sheer agility and engine power the pseudo-rockets could bring to bear.
…Plus, he would need to set up an entirely new production line for said craft. Which just wasn’t practical. The only reason he was confident in getting the Corsair lines up and running was that he had a core cadre of workers who were already experienced with those craft.
Because that was, frankly, the most time consuming part of any production line in this world. Training the people.
So no, even if he were inclined to do so – and he wasn’t – pumping out a few MiGs or Sabres just wasn’t feasible.
As for Earth’s other answer to near sub-sonic craft?
Guided missiles.
Even more impractical than supersonics, he thought.
Aether ran cold. There was no heat signature to lock onto. So any hypothetical missile he ‘invented’ would need to be radar-guided, which added another layer of complexity. He’d need to build microprocessors, guidance computers, and all the supporting infrastructure from scratch.
Something that would require a level of focus and detail work so laughably beyond the capability of even a master mage-smith that it was comical.
He could do it. In theory.
Harrowing was handy like that.
If he locked himself away and spent every waking hour designing and building the components by hand, he could probably create something functional.
But every single missile would require his personal attention. Now, he’d done and still did that with the engines of the Corsairs – though his attention was needed there less and less – but that had just been the engines.
And it still felt like it was killing him sometimes…
Entire missiles would require multiple spell-charges from him for each one. And unlike Corsairs, missiles were single-use weapons. You didn’t get multiple sorties out of them. An airfleet grew with every victory. A missile stockpile only ever shrank.
If he went down that road, it would consume him completely.
And that was ignoring all the other issues with leaping to an end-game tech…
William had been playing a careful game of brinkmanship since the moment he arrived in this world. Each new design was only a modest step beyond what already existed. Enough to give the South an edge, while still ensuring that he could always one-up things in any future conflicts.
Such as, hypothetically, during a future conflict where he might need to overthrow the crown and install something closer to a democracy.
…He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that particular endgame anymore. He didn’t know when that changed.
“So it’ll be a war of attrition,” Tyana said, interrupting his momentary introspection.
“Essentially,” William replied. “But only until the Corsairs come online. On that front, I’m planning to head out soon and get my first proper look at the Greygrass refit.”
The ancestral ship of Marline’s family was finally mobile and in the final stages of its transformation. As such, it was leaving the forest it had been effectively stranded in for nearly a decade.
“Obviously, we won’t have the Corsairs to fill it for another few months, but there’s nothing stopping us from stripping down the shard complements of a few nearby airfields to fill her hangars in the interim,” he said.
They’d already established that while Shriekers were a threat – they weren’t invincible. Mostly. If a Shrieker didn’t want to be caught, it wouldn’t be. And in a one on one scenario it would pretty much always trump a conventional shard because it could always dictate the fight.
With that said, if it needed to strike a ship with any kind of payload – or alternatively play escort duty – its options became a lot more limited. And in that scenario, massed enemy shards would very much be a threat to it through sheer incoming fire.
Again, Shriekers were a powerful new variable in the war, but hardly a game changer.
Tyana perked up at that. “That’s some welcome news and not a terrible idea.”
William could have left it there. He almost did. But something made him hesitate.
“I’m also working on another ship,” he said.
Tyana’s attention sharpened immediately.
Now, it was possible she already knew he was working on refitting one of the underships. Then again, maybe not. It was early days yet. All he’d really done was draw up a few blueprints and set some work crews towards repairing the ship. On that front, the only really noteworthy thing he’d done was order them to strip out the cannons.
He didn’t doubt he was a person of interest, but Tyana was a very busy women and he doubted she got reports on absolutely every move he made.
Probably.
Maybe.
So with that in mind, there was no real need for him to ‘come forward’ with his latest project. Yet… it felt like the right thing to do. Didn’t it?
Even as some deep, instinctive part of him was currently screaming at him to shut up.
“Oh?” Tyana said, leaning forward slightly.
William pushed past his discomfort. “It’s not a carrier. And it won’t counter Shriekers directly. But if I can get it online, and we use it in tandem with the Jellyfish and a few escorts… well, I would wager it against ten times its number in conventional ships.”
What was he doing!? Why was he saying this!? He had a plan!
He felt himself cringe internally as interest list up the admiral’s voice.
“Ten times,” she repeated, interest clear in her voice. “That’s a big number. I’m listening. Any details you can share?”
William hesitated. “I’d prefer to keep the exact details under the hood for now.”
Tyana frowned, made to speak, before thinking better of it. “That is your prerogative. I would hope you’ll share more in time though. If only so I could better incorporate whatever this… new ship does in my future plans.”
“They’ll be my plans. As it’s my ship,” he said slowly, the words spilling from him instinctively. “I wish to make that clear. This is no Shrieker situation and the Firecracker will be part of the Summerfield navy.”
“Firecracker, an interesting name for someone with a reputation as yours.” Rather than be offended, Tyana simply nodded, and he felt a little strange as she spoke slowly. “And it will of course be part of the Summefield Navy, William. I do not contest that or ask for more. Yet the fact you informed me of it implied to me you intended to work with me when it was finally deployed.”
That was… true. Mostly.
“To that end, I would hope that you will reveal its capabilities to me in advance of said deployment. Secrecy is all well and good, but from what Xela has told me, your tendency to keep critical details to yourself has already cost lives in the past.”
That felt a little unfair. “The attack on the capital caught us all off guard.”
Tyana nodded. “It did. And I do not wish to diminish what you accomplished that night. Yet it remains a fact that if you’d been less… cagey about what you were working on, your forces may yet have incurred less losses than they did.”
“There wasn’t much time for a proper debrief prior to the first flight,” he argued.
And again, she seemed unbothered. “No. There wasn’t. Which is why I’m suggesting that in future you might convey the… theoretical capabilities of your inventions well prior to even their theoretical launch window.”
William frowned.
He wasn’t being cagey for no reason. If he revealed what the Firecracker was capable of, the Queen would want him to ‘spread the love’ as the saying went. Because there was no denying that its armament would be more effective spread out across a fleet rather than contained to one ship.
…Which ran contrary to his own desires. He wanted its power concentrated – and under his control.
And any argument he might make in favor of that route would seem rather transparent.
No, it’d be significantly easier to maintain control over his inventions once the Firecracker made its debut – hopefully by crushing a Northern fleet singlehanded.
After that, well, it’d be a lot easier to argue for keeping a ‘famous’ ships armament intact as a point of respect instead of seeing it scavenged and distributed.
That was the plan.
Though he would admit it was a little thin on the ground in places.
It didn’t help that the Firecracker’s ‘secret sauce’ was going to be a lot easier for the locals to figure out than Corsair engines were.
Yet he needed to make the attempt anyway.
“I’ll consider it,” he lied.
Tyana looked like she wanted to press the issue further, but after a moment she relented with a small sigh. The kind that had William wondering if he would soon be receiving a summons from the Queen. Or if the princess would simply start sending people to poke around his newly established workshop.
Or at least, more people than there already were.
“I look forward to seeing what you come up with,” she said at last. “And I thank you for your time, Lord Summerfield.”
It was a clear dismissal.
“It was no issue,” he said. “Honestly, I was thankful for an opportunity to be off my feet for a moment.”
William stood and made his way out of the room. As he walked down the corridor, he couldn’t shake the feeling that mentioning the Firecracker had been a mistake.
…Or perhaps the mistake had been in refusing to explain what it could actually do.
He was in two minds on the subject.
A situation that seemed to become more and more common by the day.
He didn’t like that.