To Sail a Darkling Sea

by John Ringo

  “And on the retreat?” Chen asked. “I’m more worried about how you’re going to break contact.”

  “Which is why I wished we had some claymores, Lieutenant,” Januscheitis said.

  “Oh, here’s a better idea,” Faith said. “Can you cut away a gangway? From the ship side?”

  “Not easily without a crane,” Walker said. “But you can do it.”

  “Without the gangway, they’re not boarding,” Faith said. “How do you do it?”

  “It ain’t complicated,” Walker said. “But . . . it’s complicated.”

  “Got anybody who’ll board to take off the gangway in a firefight, sir?” Januscheitis asked.

  “Hey, Greg!”

  * * *

  “This is just about a dumb fuck idea,” Greg Dougherty said.

  The tall, lanky seaman and maintenance engineer had the look of having once been heavier. He’d apparently found a blue coverall from slops, recovered salvage clothing that was washed and piled in sizes on the recovery ships, and it still didn’t fit right. Not to mention it had some stains that weren’t grease. He’d been “loaned” a 1911 by the Marines and told “don’t draw it unless you absolutely have to.” But he was there on the Señorita, ready to board with his toolbag.

  “We’ll come alongside,” Sophia said. She had her H&K in a holster and her AK by the seat on the flying bridge. Just in case. “Let Paula and Patrick put up the grapnels. Then get your boarding ladder set, board, and we’ll stand by in case you have to book it.”

  “I’ll need a line to get this up,” Dougherty said, hefting his toolbag. “And I can throw a grapnel pretty well.”

  “You go up with a safety line attached,” Sophia said.

  “If you go in the drink, they try to reel you in before the sharks get you,” Januscheitis said drily.

  “You’ll be going up last. Just use that.”

  “This is gonna be so much fun,” Dougherty said.

  “Patrick, Paula, you set?” Sophia yelled.

  “Arrr, we’re all set to grapnel this prize, Cap’n!” Patrick said. They already had large “beach ball” or “balloon” fenders set over the side of the yacht to keep it from slamming into the side of the freighter.

  “And we’re coming alongside,” Sophia said, lining up to the freighter and letting the wind take her in the last few feet.

  Paula was forward with the grapnel and Patrick to the rear. They both made expert tosses to the bulwark railing of the freighter then pulled the yacht alongside with the help of the junior Marines.

  “I don’t see a welcoming party,” Faith said. The flying bridge of the Bella Señorita was nearly at the level of the cargo deck of the small freighter. “Generally we have customers by this point.”

  Paula threw up the grapnel to set the boarding ladder, then Kirby and Pagliaro pulled in on the running end of the doubled line. The ladder reeled up the side of the ship, the rubber “feet” making hardly a clatter, until it connected to the lock-point at the top. A heave and the ladder was solidly in place.

  Pagliaro clipped on his safety line and took point. He was wearing light combat gear, zombie apocalypse style, basic load-out for an assault with the addition of a gas mask and hood. This wasn’t a mission where, hopefully, they were going to need “full load out” zombie fighting gear. He also had two boxes of MG240, 7.62x51 NATO ammo strapped to the back of his kit.

  “Time to go,” Faith said. “Hold the fort here, Sister dear.”

  “Will do,” Sophia said. “Do not get in a scrum, Faith.”

  “No way in hell dressed like this,” Faith said.

  Faith and Januscheitis followed Kirby up, then took defensive positions while Derek and Bearson manhandled the MG240 over the side. They weren’t sure they were going to need it, but if they did they were really going to need it.

  The ship’s deck was half filled with cargo containers with narrow passages alongside them.

  “We’ll hang here while you guys sweep,” Januscheitis said. “Try to keep the noise down.”

  “Will do,” Derek said. “Come on, Bear.”

  “Kirby, on me,” Pagliaro said.

  “I don’t like this,” Faith said, making a moue. “I should be clearing.”

  “We’re here as a back-up and to manage, Lieutenant,” Januscheitis said.

  “I know my job, Staff Sergeant,” Faith said. “Doesn’t mean I like it.”

  There was a burst of 5.56 fire from forward.

  “One clear,” Derek radioed. “Presence so far is limited.”

  “Let’s hope that doesn’t bring them up the gangway,” Januscheitis said.

  The two plans they’d discussed had been “find the gangway, set up the defense point, then sweep” or “sweep, then find the gangway.” Sweep then find the gangway gave them the option of retreating to the boat if there were too many infected aboard. If they penetrated across the boat, they risked getting cut off and surrounded. So they went with the, hopefully, sensible plan.

  There were two shots from .45, aft and from what sounded like the far side of the boat.

  “Clear up to the bridge,” Pagliaro radioed. “But that’s got some of the infected over-side interested. I . . . Yeah, guy’s heading up the gangway.”

  “That cuts it,” Faith said, picking up two boxes of ammo. “Hold the gangway,” she radioed. “We’re on our way. You gonna pick up the machine gun, Staff Sergeant, or just stand there?”

  “Aye, aye, ma’am,” Januscheitis said as there was another burst of fire from aft.

  “Better hurry, they’re starting the party.”

  * * *

  Faith dropped a box of ammo and fired offhand into an infected that had reared up out of the shadows. The few infected who had found hidey-holes on the deck of the ship were moving to the continuous crackle of fire from aft.

  “Leavin’ that,” Faith said, keeping her side arm in her hand.

  “Concur,” Januscheitis said. He had the MG on a sling over his shoulder and his 1911 in his hand. He wasn’t going to try to use the MG in tight quarters surrounded by steel containers.

  They followed a set of stairs aft then came in sight of the embattled team. Both men were leaning over the side of the ship, firing down.

  “Hello, we’re your friendly reinforcements,” Januscheitis said, leaning over the side to check the conditions.

  Infecteds from throughout the container yard were closing on the sound of the fire and the flock of birds that had descended on fresh carrion. Crows and ravens might be smart enough to bank away from a fire-fight but seagulls carried on regardless.

  The infecteds, by sheer weight of numbers, were starting to push their way up the gangway.

  “Oh, that’s just not happening,” Januscheitis said, unlimbering the MG and setting it on the bulwark. He fired a burst into the group of infected trying to force their way onto the gangway and tumbled a half a dozen to the ground.

  Faith leaned out and looked both ways then frowned.

  “Division, Division, Ground Team One, over.”

  “Division, over.”

  “Should have thought of this earlier. We’ve got infected coming from in the yard. We also have them coming from fore and aft the vessel. Could you lay in gunboats fore and aft to manage that, over?”

  “Roger. Redeploying at this time.”

  “Break, break, forward team. Status?”

  “Not finding many customers, over.”

  “Sweep back to the boarding point. Get the technical personnel. Bring them up here and pick up any ammo along the way, over.”

  “Sweep to boarding point, aye. Get technical personnel, aye. Move to gangway with technical personnel picking up ammo, aye.”

  “Command, out. Pag, ammo.”

  “Roger, ma’am,” the lance corporal said, taking the box and pulling out the links to ammo up the MG.

  “Kirby, head back to the boarding point,” Faith said. “Pick up the ammo pile there. Keep alert, this thing might not be fully cleared.”
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  “Aye, aye, Skipper,” Kirby said then dashed off.

  Faith walked aft then leaned over the side to engage the infected who were managing to get onto the gangway through the fire of the MG.

  “Pag, while you’re handling the ammo, keep an eye on our six,” Faith yelled. “But don’t shoot the tech.”

  “Can I shoot Derek, ma’am?” Pagliaro asked.

  “No,” Faith said.

  “Check six, aye. Do not shoot friendlies, aye.”

  * * *

  “We don’t have time to drop anchor and get stable,” Chen said over the intercom. “You’ll have to fire on the fly.”

  “Not an issue, sir,” Gunner’s Mate Second Class Mcgarity said, pressing the butterfly of the modified BMG. The big rounds tumbled infecteds closing on the freighter to the ground. The platform was a lot more stable than a moving Abrams main battle tank, which was his normal platform of choice and tracking around as it drifted was no big deal. He fired a moment longer then reached on hand up to key the intercom. “Sir, could you pull this thing in closer? Like, real close to the pier?”

  “You’re getting them from here, Gunner’s Mate.”

  “But if we get in close, I can engage the ones closing through the yard, sir. I’ll have the angle. They might try to jump and swim aboard, but we’ve got rifles, sir, and there’s sharks.”

  “Make sense,” Chen said, putting the boat into reverse and backing towards the pier. “Try not to hit the cranes. One, we may need them someday. Two, while those rounds will go into a container, they will bounce off a crane.”

  “Roger, sir,” Mcgarity said. “Or would that be an aye, aye, thing?”

  “That would be an aye, aye, thing,” Chen said.

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  * * *

  “Oh, sweet,” Pagliaro said as .50 caliber BMG rounds started tearing up the closing infected. When the massive “anti-material” rounds hit, most of the infected literally exploded from hydrostatic shock. The majority of the rounds then continued on to hit any infected on the far side.

  “Except for the bouncers,” Januscheitis said. A tracer round that had already passed through two infected hit the reinforced corner of a container, bounced off, hit the side of the ship, then caromed wildly into the distance. “But, yeah, direct fire MaDeuce support is always a welcome sight. Now if we just had some tanks. Those are sweet.”

  “Friendlies,” Pag said as pretty much everyone else arrived at once.

  “Oh, this is just so much more fun than I’d expected,” Dougherty said.

  “We ran into an infected on the way,” Derek said, dropping two boxes of MG ammo to the deck.

  “We’ve got this,” Faith said. “Kirby, hump ammo from the boat. Derek, Bear, go make sure we’re clear otherwise. Topside and close all hatches. We’ll worry about belowdecks when we have to. Tech, can you get the gangway off?”

  The crew gangway started with a solid platform that was inserted onto the deck of the ship through a latched back “door” in the bulwark. The platform extended outboard from the ship about four feet. A sloped ramp was attached to it that led to another, similar, platform that rested on the pier.

  “Maybe,” Dougherty said, hesitantly. “If I don’t get shot doing it.”

  He tentatively stepped onto the extended platform and looked over the side. Then he bent over the rail and ralphed.

  “Watch where you stick your head,” Januscheitis snapped. The engineer had nearly stuck his head into his fire.

  “Sorry,” Dougherty said, wiping his mouth. “This really isn’t my gig. Jesus.”

  “Can you get the gangway off?” Faith asked.

  “I dunno,” Dougherty said. “I was gonna pull the hinges on the ramp. That was gonna be tough enough but with the weight of the . . . bodies . . . Only idea I’ve got is a bad one.”

  “Which is?” Faith asked.

  “Pull the dogs,” he said, pointing.

  The shipboard platform was solidly attached to the ship while the pier-side platform moved to allow for tidal changes and sway of the ship. The attachments were latches into the deck.

  “The platform’s balanced so there’s usually not a lot of weight on them,” Dougherty said. “Right now . . . Hell, if many more of ’em die on it, it might go on its own. It’s only designed to hold the weight of twenty people at a time. And if we pull the dogs with this much weight on it, I’m not sure what it’s gonna do. Might fall, might stay in place, might stay in place for a while then fall. I just dunno.”

  “Pull the dogs,” Faith said. “If we have to, we’ll lever it over the side with a Halligan.”

  “I’ll need a hammer,” Dougherty said.

  “Kirby,” Januscheitis radioed. “Get a hammer and a Halligan from the Señorita.”

  “Errr . . . Should I bring this ammo first or drop it and get the Halligan, over?”

  “Where are you?” Januscheitis asked.

  “Right around the corner, Staff Sergeant!” Kirby shouted.

  “Bring the ammo,” Januscheitis shouted.

  “Sorry, Staff Sergeant . . .” Kirby said, running up to the firing position. He had boxes of ammo on straps all over his body.

  “Just drop the ammo and go get a Halligan and hammer,” Januscheitis said.

  “Señorita, Ground Lead, over,” Faith said, trying not to grin. Given that Kirby had been a Marine cook, he was taking to killing zombies pretty well. But he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.

  “Ground lead. We’ve got the Halligan and hammer standing by. I take it you mean a sledge, over?”

  “You want a sledge hammer?” Faith asked.

  “Yes,” Dougherty said. “Right.”

  “Roger sledge, over,” Faith said.

  “Just waiting on you.”

  “Hoof it, Kirby!” Staff Sergeant Januscheitis said.

  “Aye, aye, Staff Sergeant!”

  “I think we could probably hold this position indefinitely,” Faith said. “But we’re burning up ammo.”

  “Only so much on the boat, ma’am,” Januscheitis said. “And I’m about to have to change barrels. So I wouldn’t say indefinitely.”

  * * *

  “Heave!” Januscheitis said, pushing on the angled platform. The heavy wood construct finally slid over the side of the ship and fell into the water with a crash. Bodies of infecteds and the few who were hale fell into the shark-teeming water.

  The clearance team ignored the screams.

  “Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Dougherty,” Faith said. “We need to get the rest of your team onboard, now, to see if we can get the crane working.”

  “Gonna suck if this was all for nothing,” Kirby said.

  “Did we ask your opinion, Marine?” Januscheitis said.

  “No, Staff Sergeant,” Kirby said. “No excuse, Staff Sergeant.”

  “Just go escort Mr. Dougherty . . .”

  * * *

  It had taken a trip belowdecks, which turned out to be another place infected had found to hole up, to get the crane into operation. But it was running.

  “I’d thought we’d have to start the mains,” Faith said as the first container went over the side. The supply ship had tied up to the bigger freighter for the evolution.

  “You don’t use mains for anything but propulsion power,” Dougherty said. “Pretty much everything else runs on secondary systems. The good news was the primary gen and hydraulics weren’t damaged. If they had been . . . I probably could have fixed ’em but it would have been a pain in the ass.”

  “How much of a pain in the ass is it going to be to get these onto the pier?” Januscheitis asked.

  “One of ’em, not so much,” Dougherty said. “The one that’s going water side will be easy. But the one that’s going interior? We’re going to have to get right up to the dock. And I mean, in contact. We can only swing it out so far.”

  “So . . . We’ll go aboard the supply ship to make sure you don’t get boarded,” Faith said. “And this time we’ll brin
g company. Division, ground team leader, over . . .”

  CHAPTER 12

  Arrogance diminishes wisdom.

  Arabian Proverb

  “God I love this system!” Anarchy said. He was stroking the trigger of the Browning in bursts because there just weren’t enough infected to engage full-bore. “The only thing that would make it better was if it was duals or quads!”

  The two “gunships” had moved to the end of the pier, right by a bright red harbor tug, and were engaging infecteds “infiltrating” from the direction of the city. The sound of the guns didn’t really carry all that far, but infected from all over were converging on the usual flocks of gulls.

  “It’s sweet,” Rusty said. As one of the more senior people in the squadron who had transferred over to the Navy, he had been chosen as one of the primary gunners. More junior people were humping the ammo. Which worked for him. “What’s a dual?”

  “Uh, oh,” Anarchy said. A huge group of infected had just come into view. Previously they’d been trickling in in small groups or singles. This was a couple of hundred and it looked like more behind them. “Rock concert time! Rusty, get the leakers!” Anarchy started engaging at long range. The BMG could kill out to nearly a mile. This was less than a thousand yards. But the single gun wasn’t stopping the tidal wave.

  “Division, you see this? Tell them to get a move on!”

  * * *

  “Roger, I see it,” Lieutenant Chen said. He’d taken a position well outboard from where the containers were being put into place just so his boat would be the primary on engagement. “Boat Two, stop the leakers. Rusty, engage long. Repeat, engage long. Garcia, Garcia,” he radioed. “What’s the status on closure, over?”

  * * *

  “Oh, my,” Faith said, looking through binoculars at the oncoming horde. The away team had landed on the pier as the better way to keep the infected from boarding the supply ship. The Alan Garcia was tied up, stern first, to the pier and was just maneuvering the first container into place. “That’s a bunch, all right.”