by Lee Thomas
Getting power to the peninsula, and running water, would be the biggest, and hardest problem to beat, but I was sure we could do it, or else find a way to live without it. We still had solar panels we could use, and if we needed to we could take some from the base here and move them up there. Tons of ideas and plans were rolling around in my head, and that’s why I had a notebook in my office to write them all down. The process of writing them out, trying to embellish them, made them more real, more substantial, and showed me which ones were totally full of crap and had to be discarded. Some of the ideas were so far-fetched they were just not feasible, and others were just outright ridiculous. A thought occurred to me then that hadn’t before, and as I contemplated it I headed for the bridge.
“Sheldon, what’s up?” Chief Allen said as I entered the bridge. He was one of the sailors left behind, and preferred to stand watch like the rest of the sailors did.
“Chief, would you please have Lieutenant Levine and Petty Officer Gordon paged to my office? I had an idea I need to run by them.” I asked him. I knew calling him Chief would make it sound more like a military order, but he preferred the title, and he had earned it before, so I went with it.
“Aye, aye, sir.” He replied, not batting an eye at the order and immediately reached for the 1MC microphone. I didn’t even try to correct the ‘sir’ and instead just nodded and then turned to head out of the bridge and go towards my office. I stopped in the vault first to grab a couple of manuals that I thought would be useful before heading in to the office. I stepped in and laid the manuals out on the table and then sat and waited for the other two to arrive, if they were onboard at the time. It only took about ten minutes for both of them to show up, which I was glad for.
“Gentlemen, I have a question and thought you might be the ones to answer it for me. I hope I have the right manuals, but if not hopefully you can point me in the right direction.” I started as I pointed to the books and seats at the table.
“Us, sir? What could we answer for you?” Petty Officer Gordon asked as he and Lt. Levine started looking at the books I had brought.
“I plan on starting the northern venture on Sunday, as everyone is aware. What I never considered until today, is the fact that there are no longer any tugboats to help us away from the pier. I need ideas on how to move this behemoth away from the pier without them.” I told them.
“That is a good question. These manuals are a good start, but there are a few more we could check. I’ll run to the vault and see if I can find some of them.” Mr. Gordon said. He then stood and headed for the door.
“Any ideas off the top of your head, Christian?” I asked as the door shut behind Mr. Gordon.
“Well, I have seen men reposition ships before just by pulling on the lines. I wonder if we could do something like that, pull the ship backwards past the end of the pier, or at least far enough back that she could start forward with a port rudder to move away. That would be difficult, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind.” Christian replied.
“That’s possible?” I asked. I knew this ship weighed in at about ninety-thousand tons, so the idea that a few men hauling on lines could move something this huge was a touch unbelievable.
“I’ve seen it done with a battleship, and those babies weigh about three quarters of what the Nimitz does. I watched it move from one pier to the other with only about six men. I think it could be possible.” He told me. I was still doubtful, but if he said it was possible, I would at least consider it. Neither one of us could think of anything else, and after about twenty minutes Mr. Gordon came back with five more manuals.
“These are some of the emergency preparedness manuals which might have some ideas in them. Have you thought of anything yet?” he asked, dropping the books on the table and spreading them out. I nodded to Christian to explain his idea again, and Mr. Gordon, whose first name I learned was Simon, nodded as he listened, soaking it in. We tossed ideas back and forth for a bit, none of them seeming to jump out at us as the perfect plan.
“What about pushing the ship away from the pier?” Simon asked suddenly.
“How would we push the ship? Even if we had a tugboat, how would we get one in between the ship and pier?” I asked. Christian also turned to look to him with a questioning look.
“Not a tugboat. You said we might be able to pull it with a few men on lines, why can’t we get some kind of hydraulic jack or lift placed between the pier and ship and simply push her away from the pier and then use her own engines to start moving?” he explained. Christian and I thought it over for a few minutes, each in our own head with it, until I finally looked up.
“Simon, I think that might work, I like it. Let’s come up with some other ideas though in case that one doesn’t pan out.” I finally said, earning a nod from Christian. We continued to brainstorm, trying to come up with more details on Simon’s plan and make it feasible.
“How about this as well. If we can’t push her away, we can pull her away.” I said.
“How do you figure?” Christian asked.
“We still have some of the smaller ships with fuel in them, right? Why don’t we attach lines from the port bow anchor room to the back of a cruiser and use that to pull us out at an angle? That is, if that can be done without ramming the starboard prop into the pier.” I said, wondering which one of our ideas so far was going to be the most feasible.
“That’s possible, yes. If we pull from the port bow, the starboard stern should simply turn, not move into the dock. That might be better than trying to push her away.” Simon replied. He was a deck ape before, and those were the sailors who knew the ship inside and out, probably even better than the ones who built it did, and I trusted his knowledge. If he said it could be done, then it could be done.
“If you want, I can start working on a way to push her away as well, in case using the cruiser doesn’t work.” Simon said then.
“Good, yes, do that. How many men would it take to operate the cruiser for something like this?” I asked Christian.
“Three, maybe four in the engine room, one on the helm, one in command, and at least two lookouts to watch for collisions. I would say probably four to secure the lines. That is the bare minimum to run her, and that’s only to pull the carrier.” Christian answered me.
“Find me the best ones for that job in case we go that route. If we can find a way to test these ideas that would be good to.” I told them, standing and ending the meeting. We had some ideas and would figure out which one would work, I was sure. To me, pulling her out with the cruiser sounded best, but pushing with a jack of some kind sounded like it could be something we could take with us if we needed it again. That would make docking and moving again a lot easier in the future as well. Christian and Simon left to each work on their ideas and determine which one was the more feasible plan, and hopefully we could find a way to make one of them work by Sunday.
The stress of the last two years, plus trying to plan the next step was taking its toll on me. I had ulcers in the past, and I think they were coming back with a vengeance as I was starting to have chest pains again on a regular basis, like I did back then. Quietly asking our doctors to run an EKG on me a few days ago, they did confirm it wasn’t a heart problem, but I would have to find a way to either lower my stress or find a stash of antacids somewhere. I made my way back to the galley to grab a snack and then figure out what else I was going to do today. Seeing Kyle and Erica at a table reminded me that we had the newcomers from the planes that I still hadn’t sat down with yet. I took my tray over to their table to see if I could join them.
“Mind if I join you?” I asked as I stepped up to their table. They both looked at me and Kyle waved his hand at an empty seat. I thanked him and set my tray down.
“I apologize I haven’t been around to speak with you all yet, we had a couple of emergencies come up that had to be dealt with. How is your group holding up?” I asked before taking a bite of my sandwich.
“We are all doing f
ine, and some of your people even informed us we could move the planes here, which we did. I hope that isn’t a problem and no one overstepped their authority.” Kyle informed me in between bites of his own meal.
“It’s really impressive what you have here. We have an entire island back home, so it’s more like the world hasn’t collapsed, but your people seem to have adapted rather nicely here.” Erica chimed in. She seemed sincere, not like she was meaning it as a veiled insult, so I took it as such.
“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say adapted nicely, but when we started this whole thing I had almost half of my group comprised of either military or veterans, so that helped streamline doing what needed to be done to keep people safe. It almost turned into a military installation at first though, and I have worked hard at keeping it more relaxed, although I do admit that certain tasks are easier to accomplish when I phrase it like an order with some of my people.” I replied. I was glad to hear that the planes had been retrieved safely, which meant we hadn’t left anyone out there to fend for themselves, and we had access to the planes still, if we wanted.
“So, how long do you plan on staying? I remember you said you were simply looking for survivors and a safe place to start a colony. Obviously, that means you aren’t looking for a new home right now, and it is no problem the planes were moved here. I would’ve let you land here originally, but we needed to make sure you weren’t a threat to our survival first; you understand, I’m sure.” I continued.
“Of course, our group is the same way any time survivors are found on the mainland. Our outposts are more or less quarantine stations to make sure no one entering is infected or dangerous to the whole before we bring them to the island.” Kyle responded. Although none of them wore anything like a uniform, Kyle and a couple of the others had that military bearing to them, so I assumed they were either military or veterans, and Kyle seemed to be the one they deferred to.
“I can’t even imagine what it must be like over there. So many more people, and the infection started there, so much less time to prepare for it. Where were you when it all went down?” I asked, not necessarily expecting an answer because most people didn’t seem to like to talk about it.
“Visiting family in Wales. Most of the ones on the plane with us were already in the U.K., but we got a lot of refugees from Russia, Germany, you name it. Those fleeing the infected had few places to go, and fewer still that were safe. Many started using the old castles and walled cities as safe havens, and a lot of them are still being used. There are military bases scattered throughout Europe that were secured and are being used as landing places for the planes and helicopters to ferry people and supplies all over the continent, as well as being a safe house for our supply scavengers and search teams.” Kyle explained.
“Sounds like a good system. How many people are at each location?” I asked, partly to see how they were doing it, partly to see if I could find out how many people were left alive over there.
“When we started, there were approximately five hundred people on each base, and no accurate numbers on the ones staying inside castles or city walls. Other than emergency generators there is no power on the mainland, so no radios or anyway to contact other survivors once the main power grid went down. Those numbers have dwindled, however, between food shortages, fights, rogue groups attacking the bases, and the infected themselves. We are lucky now to be able to keep one hundred people per base, and no way to know if anyone else is still alive.” Erica answered, while Kyle nodded as she talked.
“Fights broke out over the lack of food, and people started trying to horde it. The government tried to ration it and spread it as evenly as possible, but it just wasn’t enough for the number of people that flooded into the U.K. on top of her then current population. The entire island is down to about two million people now total, maybe another fifty thousand on the mainland.” Kyle confirmed.
“What about Italy and Ireland? I thought they were mostly untouched?” I asked.
“Italy lost communications about six months ago, and Ireland reported that while their losses were less than ours, they still had problems of their own.” Kyle informed me. I shook my head to indicate that I understood, and then sat in my own thoughts, thinking what that meant for us. We seemed to be doing ok for now, which I hoped to continue to do, but we had to constantly be vigilant to stay safe.
“Ok, well, I’ll leave you two alone then and take care of my own tasks. I assume we got the planes refueled and ready to go whenever you want to leave, but if not, just let me know and we will make sure they are.” I said, finishing off my sandwich and picking up my tray. After dropping it off to be washed, I made my way back to the bridge to have the radioman try to reach Italy again. I knew I hadn’t heard any updates from them in a while, but I just assumed it was because nothing had changed, and I had been wrapped up in my own plans anyways.
Leaving the radio room, I decided to go get another practice session in at the sparring mat. It was good practice, I was getting out of shape again, and the other fighters liked to rate their skills against me with a sword. Most of them could out shoot me any day of the week, and I never pretended otherwise, but few could best me with a sword. I stopped by my cabin first to get my armor, as for serious practice I liked to wear it since that was how I would be fighting for real outside the wall. None of the others seemed to have grasped that concept yet, and it showed in the way they fought between in here and out there. I had been out with groups that I had either seen practicing or practiced with and could see a difference in the way they swung and the effectiveness of their moves. Practicing without armor was a great workout and you could go longer, but an impractical way to prepare for the real thing.
Stepping into the hangar bay in my armor, holding my helmet in my hand, several people walking through stopped to look, wondering if there was an excursion outside they didn’t know about. Since it was so rare we went outside the wall anyone, and news traveled fast on a ship, it was almost impossible to keep a secret around here. I waved to most of them, nodding and smiling, greeting the ones close enough to me as I continued towards the practice mat. There was already a group of about thirty or so milling about, a few on the sparring square trading quick, half-ass attacks. It appeared everyone there was only there for a quick workout today, so I decided to give them one.
“Sheldon, what’s with the armor?” one of them asked me, Johnny I believe his name was.
“They key to finding out just how good you are in a real fight is to practice like you’re in a real fight. I practice in my armor so I know how my arm swings in it, what range of motion I have, and how far I can see with my helmet on. If I know that here, I will know for sure out there. None of you seem to grasp that fact yet, so here’s the deal. I will face two of you at once, and if I win, you all have to go get your riot gear or whatever armor you wear outside on and continue practicing in it until you can beat me, deal?” I told them as I walked over and grabbed a couple of the practice swords. I could tell several of them were starting to get a little worn and would need some work done soon, so I made a mental note to mention that to Christopher, our resident woodsmith. I was sure he could either have new ones made or have these repaired in no time. Finding two I liked, I began warming up, doing some circles to work my shoulders, a few lunges for my knees and lungs, and a quick run of some basic attacks and blocks, all just to refresh my memory on how far my armor let me move. It was designed to not be too constrictive, and it did allow for a huge range of motion, with only a small amount of resistance on the farthest reaches.
“So, who’s going first?” I asked, stepping onto the sparring mat. It was a square mat set inside a wooden frame. There was a layer of wrestling pads two deep to protect anyone falling from hitting the bare steel. The wood frame was to keep the mats in place, and provide a limited area so sparring fights didn’t get out of hand and accidently injure anyone.
Two men stepped up onto the mat and squared off with me, introducing themselves
as Harrison and George, and then saluting with their swords as Roger and I had taught them. I returned the salute and got into my stance, waiting on them to decide who was going to attack first. Even though I had two swords, and they each only had one, I couldn’t let them flank me or I was done. Harrison started moving toward my left, obviously trying to get my attention, as George stayed put and slowly rotated his sword around in his grip. I recognized this attack form from some of the group attacks Roger and I had come up with, and if I remembered it right, Harrison would be keeping my attention by moving and feinting, while George appeared to be holding back and staying loose, appearing to be on the defensive, waiting on my attack to come. Harrison was supposed to be getting my undivided attention, and then George would take me out from behind. It was an effective move, especially against an opponent with no training, but I wasn’t going to be taken in quite so easily.
Following Harrison with my body, my eyes stayed glued on his as I read his body language, watching his eyes for the sign to George to attack. As soon as I saw Harrison’s eyes flicker back and raise his eyebrows, I counted one second and then swept my foot back in a low roundhouse sweep while raising my left-hand sword up to block the blow. George’s sword’s momentum threw him off balance as my lower leg contacted his and swept his feet out from under him, sending him to the mat, flat on his back. His breath whooshed out of him as I continued my spin and used my momentum to thrust my other sword into his neck, an instant kill shot. Since I knew Harrison was still there, I didn’t stay to gloat however, and jumped right back up into a defensive stance. The collective gasp from the crowd told me they thought this would be a short match, but that move made them reconsider.
