To Sail a Darkling Sea Page 16

  “Roger, stand by . . . Switch to twenty-three at this time, over.”

  “Switching,” Faith said.

  “Faith, Da. How bad in your opinion?”

  “We haven’t gotten close enough to do any serious survey,” Faith said.

  “The Boise says they don’t see any survivors in the cabins.”

  “No way they’d make it this long,” Faith said. “If they took the way the Boadicea did it, there could be a fair number. But I’d bet on another Voyage situation. Hopefully, with fewer infected. They’re running out of any source of hydration at this point. It won’t be as bad, but it’ll be bad. And we’ll mostly be using Barbie ammo. We’re really going to need the Boadicea for this one. Anchor it mid-harbor if we can, shuttle survivors over. And we’ll need . . . stand by.”

  She pulled out a pocket calculator and started figuring numbers.

  “Based on my estimate of what we used on the Voyage versus what we used on the Boadicea, we’ll need at least a hundred thousand rounds of Barbie ammo or twenty thousand rounds of shotgun if we all had Saigas. We’re also going to have to block the pier from infiltration by the infecteds. We’re working on that at this end. But you might as well load up the Tan with ammo and bring it over. Oh, and we could use a few more Marines and some more Barbie barrels ’cause this is going to wear our guns out, some of those H&K Barbie guns, and well, help, over.”

  * * *

  “Barbie ammo?” Captain Milo Wilkes said.

  The Marine helo pilot, the only pilot they’d found so far, had been plucked from a lifeboat more or less stationary where it had been dropped in the Sargasso Sea. There had been several lifeboats found in the area by a passing boat and seven more Marines as well as twenty Navy survivors had been found.

  “Anything five five six, sir,” Gunny Sands whispered. “The lieutenant is no great fan of the M4 or five five six.”

  “I see,” Wilkes said, nodding. He’d been shocked to find that a thirteen-year-old had been commissioned a Marine lieutenant and even more shocked that the gunny seemed to think it not just a good idea but a great one.

  He’d seen the video. He understood she was badass for a thirteen-year-old girl. But there was more to being a Marine officer than being a badass. Admittedly, it was sort of the cornerstone but . . .

  “And my Marines want to know where we’re going to hold the Marine Corps Ball, Da. I think these are going to be a little too messed up. I’m recommending the main saloon on the Alpha. Might be able to use the Boadicea. It’s not too bad. Might be a bit smelly, still, but we’re Marines. We can take it.”

  “I think that’s a discussion for later, Lieutenant,” Captain Smith said, grinning tightly.

  “Better put it on the agenda, Squadron. I never got to go to prom. I’m not missing my first Marine Corps Ball. I’ll hold it on this supermax if I have to. Invite a few infected, have a few laughs. Roger, we can block this pier with two or three containers. There’s some sort of fenced area but no gate. Why have a fence with no gate? Oh, it’s to keep people from falling in the water . . . There’s limited infected presence on the pier at this time. We’re just going to do a hard entry off the Señorita and recon the embarkation ports.”

  “Is that wise, Lieutenant?” Captain Smith said.

  “When I said ‘light’ I meant no more than ten in view on a mile-long pier, Squadron. I’ve no interest in dropping in the dunny on this. We just need to see if the embarkation ports are open. Want Señorita to keep the channel open?”

  “Roger,” Steve said, shrugging.

  “Sir . . .” Captain Wilkes said. “If I may recommend against this? I mean, is there any real need? Why not wait until . . .”

  “Older and wiser heads arrive, Captain?” the commodore said. “Because our enemy in this, always, is time, Captain. Ask me for anything but time. And if Faith says she can recon the pier then she can recon the pier.” He keyed the radio. “DivOne, Squadron.”

  “Squadron, DivOne.”

  “What is the infected level on the cruise terminal, over?”

  “Light. Very light. Or I’d tell Shewolf no effing way. We also are standing by for fire support, over.”

  “Roger, DivOne. We’ll monitor. Keep us apprised if there is anything we need to know. Be advised, we’re picking up all our toys and heading your way at this time. We’re going to leave the Pit Stop to load ammo and additional materials. The rest of us are already on the way.”

  “Roger, Squadron, good to hear. This is . . . How did you clear one of these with four people, Squadron?”

  “One compartment at a time, Division, one compartment at a time. Squadron to monitor. Okay, Gunny, who plans the Marine Corps Ball?”

  “Seriously, sir?” Captain Wilkes said. “Is that really important right now?”

  “We are underway, Captain,” Steve said mildly. “All critical decisions have been made. Gunnery Sergeant? Or should I refer it to the captain?”

  “The plans were already in place, sir,” Gunny Sands said. “I’d already scheduled the main saloon in the Alpha for the evening, sir. Dunnage, including dress uniform, of all surviving Marines is in storage. The only person who doesn’t have appropriate uniform and accoutrements is Miss . . . Lieutenant Smith, and I was going to bring it up with her when I had a moment, sir. All under control, sir.”

  “We’ll probably be clearing on the tenth,” Captain Wilkes said. “I believe you said ‘ask me for anything but time,’ Captain.”

  “We also clear a maximum of twelve hours per day,” Steve replied. “Because if you try to do more than that, over time you start making critical errors. Like blue-on-blue fire. So . . . we’ll schedule it for off-time in clearance. And if my Marines can’t clear with a hangover . . . they’re not real Marines, Captain.”

  “Squadron, Ground Team One.”

  There was a sound of continuous fire over the circuit.

  “Go, Ground Team,” Steve said.

  “Tell Gunny to break out all the double-ought. There be weevils in the bread!”

  “How heavy is it, over?” Steve asked.

  “Oh, fair dinkum an all. Piece of cake if it weren’t for these bloody Barbie guns. Embarkation port of the supermax had some food stuffs spilled about. Got water, got food, got zombies. Bit of a lark. Going pistol, Janu. Okay, going next pistol, Janu . . . LitClear, could we get some fire on our flank, over? Told you you should get a real pistol . . . Yeah . . . Got that . . . Go ahead and reload, you two, got this . . . Thanks, LitClear, keep up the fire . . . Gunny, we’re going to need frags for this one . . . And . . . why do we want two-handed swords? We can’t swing them in the . . . Oh, really? Staff Sergeant requests something called claymores . . . And we’re clear . . . Or we were . . . Squadron, we’ve got this, but it’s going to take some time . . . break . . . Take some time . . . Embarkation port on the supermax is, repeat, is open. There’s a fair number of . . . Stand by . . . Fair number of infecteds . . . stand by . . . Fair number of infecteds in the . . . Stand by . . . Oh, jeeze, you have got to be shitting me? Fair number of infecteds in the embark . . . In the embarkation . . . Stand by . . . We’re going to lay in the . . . LitClear can you get a gunboat over between the two ships? That’s a fair posse heading this way . . . Stand by . . . Oh, jeeze, I’ve got him . . . Bloody Barbie guns . . . Reload, Kirby . . . Kirby, you’re just pulling on an empty trigger, reload . . . We’re going to lay in blockades to prevent . . . stand by . . . prevent infiltration then start active clearance of the perimeter until you arrive. LitClear, that’s as close as we’d like, thanks . . . closer really . . . Is that a roger? Shoot him in the head, PFC. I thought you were an expert rifleman . . . It goes like this . . . There, one in the chest, one in the head, they fall down go boom even with a Barbie bullet. And at this range if you can’t do that you shouldn’t have an expert . . . rifleman’s . . . Oh, just die already . . . badge . . . Squadron, you there . . . ? Squadron? Is this working? Hello? Any station this net . . . ? Hello? Oops . . . Damn open c . . .”
<
br />   “Ground team, Squadron, status, over,” Captain Smith said calmly a few moments later.

  “Embarkation area is clear, Squadron. Going to reammo and continue to check the other two liners. Over.”

  “Were you in the dunny, over?”

  “Negative, Squadron, never even broke out my kukri. Honest. Big thanks to the Golden Guppy, though. Over.”

  “Continue recon ops. Do not, repeat, do not allow infiltration behind you.”

  “Got that covered, Squadron. We’ve got boats standing by. We can always jump it.”

  “Clearance Ops will be by the discretion of the local commander. DivOne, understood?”

  “Understood, Squadron. Not exactly chomping the bit to clear one of these again.”

  “Squadron, out. Lieutenant Isham, ensure that all the shotgun ammo we can find on the Iwo is on the Pit Stop as well as any shotguns we can scrounge. Faith seems to positively enjoy scrums, but I’d like to avoid them if we can.”

  “Yes, sir,” Isham said, making a note.

  “And ensure we have pistols for all clearance personnel as well as sufficient stocks of forty-five. This is going to be a bloody one.”

  CHAPTER 11

  The Sons of Mary seldom bother,

  for they have inherited that good part;

  But the Sons of Martha favour their Mother

  of the careful soul and the troubled heart.

  And because she lost her temper once,

  and because she was rude to the Lord her Guest,

  Her Sons must wait upon Mary’s Sons,

  world without end, reprieve, or rest.

  It is their care in all the ages

  to take the buffet and cushion the shock.

  It is their care that the gear engages;

  it is their care that the switches lock.

  It is their care that the wheels run truly;

  it is their care to embark and entrain,

  Tally, transport, and deliver duly

  the Sons of Mary by land and main.

  “The Sons of Martha”

  Rudyard Kipling

  “Bloody hell,” Faith said. She had gone through a decon shower in full kit then a “real” shower and now was collapsed in the saloon of the Señorita, as were the rest of the clearance team. “I’d started to forget what a real fight was like.”

  Night was falling on the port of Santa Cruz de Tenerife and the last sunlight reflected a brilliant salmon off of snow-capped Teide mountain in the distance. Calling sea birds circled the boats moored in the main channel, squawking over bits of what had been human beings and were now shark-torn offal.

  There had been infected around the cruise ships. All three. Lots of infected. Stores had been laid in at the embarkation ports and the infected had been feeding on those as well as each other. Water should have been problematic but zombies would drink anything and most of them even survived it. There were puddles of rainwater on the dock. No rational human being would drink from them but zombies weren’t rational.

  “You guys used up quite a bit of our fresh water,” Sophia noted. “We’re going to have to find a source of resupply.”

  “Get some from the tender,” Faith said. “We’re going to be taking lots of showers.”

  “It’s going to need your support getting containers,” Sophia said.

  “And that’s for tomorrow,” Faith said. “We didn’t have any real problem with infiltration from the main city, today, but we still need to get the pier blocked off. I’ll get with the captain of the tender. We’ll need to . . .” She stopped and held her head. “I know I was going somewhere with that.”

  “I’ve got food coming up,” Paula said. “You probably just need blood sugar.”

  “As soon as I get food in my stomach, I’m going to collapse,” Faith said. “I know I was going somewhere . . .”

  “Get with the captain of the tender, ma’am,” Januscheitis said.

  “Oh,” Faith said. “We’ll need to try to get any containers that are well down on piers. These piers are so long there isn’t much in the way of infected infiltration from the city. So . . .” She stopped again.

  “There’s a commercial port on the other side,” Sophia said. “You should be able to get some from there.”

  “Right, saw that,” Faith said. “The ship . . . we should look for embarkation ports on the outboard side. If we can get them open we can extract into the harbor rather than onto the pier. I’d like to just get the embarkation ports pierside up and closed. That will prevent the problem of infiltration . . . Am I making any sense?”

  “Plenty, ma’am,” Januscheitis said. “We’ll take care of the equipment.”

  “Equipment,” Faith said. “I knew I was forgetting something. . . .”

  “That’s what NCO’s are for, ma’am,” Derek said.

  “We’ll need to get the Boadicea up here for survivors . . .” Faith said.

  “And that’s above your paygrade, ma’am,” Januscheitis said.

  “It is?” Faith said.

  “That would be Lieutenant Chen’s call or Squadron,” Januscheitis said. “You don’t have to worry about that level of support.”

  “Oh,” Faith said.

  “Think about how we’re going to clear off infected so we can get some containers tomorrow, ma’am,” Januscheitis said. “I’ll make sure all the gear and men are ready to rock and roll. And, really, you don’t have to worry about that until tomorrow because we haven’t seen what we’ve got to do, yet. It may be dead simple, it may be nearly impossible. We’ll get it done. But you don’t have to really worry about it until tomorrow.”

  “Oh,” Faith said. “Are you sure?”

  “At this point, there would normally be an after action report to write,” Januscheitis said. “I’ll write up the draft and you can read it tomorrow morning and correct it as you see fit.”

  “No,” Faith said. “I’ll write it up tonight. You’ll be handling the equipment. I’ll get you to check it.”

  “I thought you were going to crash,” Sophia said as Paula served dinner.

  “Mission, men, me,” Faith said, picking up her fork. “Get some food in me and I’ll be good to go . . .”

  * * *

  “Passed out like a light,” Januscheitis said quietly.

  “I thought she was going to fall asleep in her plate,” Derek said, just as quietly. “We going to try to haul her to her bunk?”

  “No,” Januscheitis said. “Just do everything real quiet.”

  * * *

  “Ugh,” Faith said, sitting up and wiping drool off her chin. “I hate it when I do that. How long was I out?”

  “Not long,” Januscheitis said. He had her AK stripped down and was carefully oiling it. Using weapons around salt water meant having to keep them oiled to a fare-thee-well. “About twenty minutes.”

  “Power nap,” Faith said. “Okay, Paula, you can stop trying to do the dishes quietly.”

  “It’s Patrick,” Patrick called. “Sorry about that. Banged a pot.”

  “Okay, some razzleberry tea and I’ll be a report writing machine,” Faith said fuzzily, pushing herself to her feet. “Where’s some razzleberry . . . ?”

  * * *

  “Yeah, I’m gonna need to write this . . .” Januscheitis said, pulling Faith up from where she was passed out on the computer keyboard. “ ‘. . . it was, like, awesome . . .’ is not going to pass review.”

  “Wazzat?” Faith said.

  “We’re going to have to talk about report writing language, ma’am,” Januscheitis said, getting the lieutenant to her feet. “Tomorrow. Off to racksies, Skipper . . .”

  * * *

  “Okay,” Faith said, consulting her notepad. A ten hour “nap,” breakfast, some apple juice and she was ready to rock and roll. “Day objectives: Clear zone around containers of infected so the supply ship can pick them up. Block the quay with containers. Begin clearance of the supermax liner. Find a dress for the Marine Corps B— Oh, wait, that’s a personal
objective . . .”

  * * *

  “Anybody got a plan?” Lieutenant Chen said. “’Cause I’m thinking this is a bust.”

  The commercial port of Santa Cruz de Tenerife had been a bustling center for the transshipment of cargo. The island had to import basically everything except food, and it imported a good bit of that. And the commercial port was set up to support it. It had a long breakwater that was also used as a “tie-up” for ships awaiting transshipment or were doing minor repairs, a fuel transfer point, one of two on the island, and a main cargo transfer point with two massive cargo handling cranes colloquially called “AT-ATs” for their resemblance to the Imperial “tanks” in the Star Wars movies. There were two freighters tied up alongside, half unloaded.

  Alas, it also had the usual infected roaming around. Quite a few.

  “I don’t know exactly how this stuff works,” Faith said. “But there’s a cargo handling crane on that freighter. Can we use that?”

  “If we can get it into operation,” Captain Jesse Walker said, rubbing his bald head. The master mariner, formerly a freighter captain, was clearly unhappy with the mission. “Then there’s all them zombies.”

  “They’re in the cargo yard,” Faith said. “We board the boat and clear. There’s a personnel gangway but it’s narrow. We hold that point while your crew offloads the cargo containers onto your ship. Then we pull back and board the Señorita. Your crew moves to the Señorita for boarding. You only come alongside when the cargo is ready to move. And if it gets too hot, we pull back, reboard the Señorita and come up with a better plan.”

  “That . . . might work,” Lieutenant Chen said. “I’d like a back-up plan other than your usual, Lieutenant.”

  “Help if we had some claymores, Lieutenant,” Januscheitis said, scratching his chin. “I’m not sure if it’s a back-up plan, but we’re going to want to carry one of the MGs. We’ll set that up on the boarding gangway to increase our firepower. Between that, and the LT’s Saiga and our Barbie guns we can hold any gangway.”