To Sail a Darkling Sea

by John Ringo

  “Yes, Sergeant Major,” they chorused.

  “I can’t HEAR YOU!”

  “YES, SERGEANT MAJOR!”

  “Good,” Barney said mildly. “Now that we’ve got that straight. The ensign gave me an order to get the topside of the yachts cleared with a second security team. You are detailed. Moving carefully and covering each other, you shall clear the topside of the yachts. Is that clear?”

  “YES, SERGEANT MAJOR!”

  “Ensign, do you have any additional information for these two?”

  “Make noise before you board,” Sophia said. “We’ve got the area clear so don’t worry about drawing infecteds. One of you, Hill, have your weapon loaded and ready. Hadley, shout and yell to wake the dead. Then, if there’s no response, safe your weapon and board. Check for open doors. Do not go below. Topside only. Understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Hill said.

  “Together, and the ensign can’t HEAR YOU EITHER!”

  “YES, MA’AM!”

  “And I’d like a repeat back,” Sophia said. “From Hill. And not shouted.”

  “Check the topside, aye,” Hill said. “Uh . . . Hadley’s going to yell. I’ll cover. Don’t board until we’re sure there aren’t infected. Just check the topside. Uh . . . I want to ask a question . . .”

  “Not yet,” Barney said.

  “Questions, comments, concerns?” Sophia asked.

  “What do we do if we find an open door, ma’am?” Hill asked.

  “Call it in,” Sophia said. “Otherwise, stay off your radios except to report the yacht clear. But do check the hatches just to see if they’re open.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Hill, you are in charge of the team,” Barney said. “If you have further questions, and only if you have important and valid questions, ask for me on the radio and I will clarify. Understood?”

  “YES, SERGEANT MAJOR!”

  “Very good,” the sergeant major said. “Off you go, lads.”

  “Sorry,” Sophia said. “We’ve really never gotten into the whole discipline thing. Which I know is a bad thing.”

  “The Army and the Navy have very different approaches to, well, most things, ma’am,” Sergeant Major Barney said. “But discipline is important in both, ma’am.”

  “Am I really responsible for Anarchy’s death?” Sophia asked quietly.

  “Officially and legally, yes, ma’am,” the sergeant major said. “That is the hard part of being an officer. Had he any family, it would be your job, not mine, to write them a letter telling them what happened, how he died. You have the authority to order them to perform actions which I do not have the authority to order. By the same token, you bear the responsibility of the result of those actions. From all I’ve gleaned, there was little that you could have done to prevent his death. You were under orders, yourself, to gather the boats. He died as the result of an accident while performing that mission. There will be more, ma’am. That is the nature of this profession and the sea, of itself, takes lives. It is one of the reasons that I am less than sure it is entirely wise placing a teenager in the position of an officer. That is a terrible burden to bear. By the same token, you do the job quite well.”

  “Thank you,” Sophia said, clearly thinking about it. She was watching Hill and Hadley tentatively board one of the yachts.

  “If I may add, ma’am,” the sergeant major said. “The other problem of being in this position is that you have to set aside such thoughts. It is my job to watch the teams and ensure that everyone is doing their jobs and doing so in such a way that they, probably, are not going to kill themselves. Speaking of which, I need to get up to the defense team in a moment. However, your job, ma’am, is to put aside anything but anticipating future issues and plans. Let me handle this. You think about what is next. Because, among other things, I haven’t a clue about any of this and don’t know what is probably going to go wrong.”

  “Yacht’s clear. Dead batteries. Fuel. Some stores. No infected. Mechanic’s working on it. As usual, he’s afraid of the dark. What do you want us to do?”

  “Stand by,” Sophia said. “Division, can we get another repair crew? We’ve got four yachts. Topsides are clear on at least two so far. Doors are locked. They’re all going to need batteries. Over.”

  “Away Team, Division. Roger, we’ll scrounge up another mechanic.”

  “Have Hill and Hadley stop checking topsides,” Sophia said. “One of them can stand by and help the engineer on the first yacht then the other on the second.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Sergeant Major Barney said. “We need more than one frequency. Hill, Sergeant Major. Status.”

  “Topside is clear. Door’s locked.”

  “Send Hadley back to the first yacht. You stand by on the second, the one that you are on. Just wait there. Over.”

  “Ok— Roger, Sergeant Major.”

  “Uh . . . Sergeant Major, Rusty. We’ve got an infected coming down the way . . .”

  “Gunboat,” Sophia said, looking through her binoculars. “That’s on me, I think.”

  “Very well, ma’am,” Sergeant Major Barney said. “but if I may . . . Singer Team. Stand by. Gunboat should take care of it. Do not fire unless ordered.”

  “Uh . . . Roger, Sergeant Major.”

  * * *

  “We’re Singer Team, right?” Rusty said.

  “Hell, I dunno . . .”

  * * *

  “Guppy, Away Team, over.”

  “Away Team, Guppy. Yes, we can.”

  “If you would, please,” Sophia radioed. “Nuke ’em from orbit. It’s the only way to be sure.”

  * * *

  “Aim,” Chief Schmidt growled, pointing at the oncoming infected. It was approaching more or less directly at the gunboat’s position. “If you cannot hit that target with your first burst, I will find a new gunner and you can just spend the rest of your career humping ammo.”

  “Yes, Chief,” the seaman recruit said, sweating.

  “One burst,” Schmidt said. “Take your time.”

  “Yes, Chief,” the gunner said.

  “Wait,” the chief said. “Your sight’s off for this range.” He clicked the ladder sight. “You’d have fired over.”

  “Thanks,” the gunner said.

  “Fire.”

  The burst, fortunately for the gunner, hit the infected with one of its rounds.

  “And you get to keep your job,” Schmidt said, taking off his earmuffs. “For now.”

  “Thanks,” the gunner said.

  “That would be . . . what?”

  “Thank you, Chief,” the gunner said and gulped.

  “Better.”

  * * *

  “Okay,” Sophia said as the last yacht cleared the marina and joined the growing flotilla. “Now we need wheels if we’re going to clear this town.”

  With the yachts cleared, the team had gathered at the point where the breakwater reached the shore for a little huddle.

  “Very well, ma’am,” the sergeant major said. “If I may?”

  “On you, Sergeant Major,” Sophia said, nodding.

  “First, all but Zelenova Team and Singer Team, drop your magazines and clear your weapons.”

  “Sergeant Major?” Rusty said, raising his hand. He had the 240 slung.

  “You’re not in bloody primary school, Seaman Apprentice,” the sergeant major said. “Seaman Recruit Steinholtz, what is the proper way to ask a question?”

  “Permission to speak, Sergeant Major,” Steinholtz said.

  “So, Seaman Apprentice,” the sergeant major said. “Try it again.”

  “Permission to speak, Sergeant Major?” Rusty said.

  “Permission granted, Seaman Apprentice,” Barney said.

  “Uh . . .” Rusty said. “I forgot what I was gonna ask . . .”

  Sophia turned around and covered her mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. She coughed instead.

  “Bloody hell . . .” Sergeant Major Barney said, just getting warmed
up.

  “Sergeant Major!” the assistant gunner said, quickly raising his hand. “Permission to speak, Sergeant Major!”

  “Permission bloody granted,” Barney said. “And it had better be bloody important!”

  “Are we Singer Team, Sergeant Major?” the AG asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” Rusty said. “That was it . . .”

  “Yes,” Sergeant Major Barney said, nodding. “You and Seaman Apprentice Bennett are Singer Team. That was my mistake. Singer is British Army slang for a machine gun. Now, everyone but the machine-gun team and Olga’s team, clear your weapons. And don’t bloody ask why. You know why. Right. Hadley, carry the jumper cables. Steinholtz, carry the battery. Zelenova team has point. Then the ensign, Singer Team, Hadley and Steinholtz, myself and Hill. Is that clear?”

  “Clear, Sergeant Major,” Olga said.

  “There’s gates on this marina,” Sophia said. “Get them closed so we have a secure fallback point.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Barney said. “SR Zelenova, move out.”

  The reason the infected had only been trickling in to the marina was clear when they got to the gate. There were two. The larger rolling gate was locked. The smaller swing gate was jammed by a small car that had hit the partially open gate and rolled over, blocking the entrance. The passenger side window had been smashed out.

  “Yu,” Barney said. “Climb up on the car and see what the other side looks like.”

  “Nothing, Sergeant Major,” Yu said, looking around. “Some cars scattered around. I don’t see any infected.”

  “Orders, ma’am?” Barney asked. “Do we clear the gate or try to get the other open?”

  “Can we clear it?” Sophia asked.

  “Oh, yes, ma’am,” the sergeant major said.

  “Clear the gate, Sergeant Major,” Sophia said, stepping back.

  “Singer team, drop your Singer,” the sergeant major said. “Jumper team, drop your gear. Over there to the side you bloody idiots, not in the bloody way. Zelenova team, outside and keep an eye both directions. Hill team, that’s Hadley and Hill, over the car to the far side. Singer Team, take the bonnet side. Steinholtz, that side, I’ve got this. Now, the trick is for everyone to lift on command, with your knees . . . The command will be a two part, prepare to lift and lift. Team, prepare to lift . . . Lift! Walk it to the water . . . careful . . .”

  The Fiat 500 only weighed 2400 pounds. Six reasonably in-shape guys could lift it easily. Once it was out of the gate, they set it down.

  “Keys are in it, ma’am,” the sergeant major said. “Tip it upright and try to get it started?”

  “We’re going to need cars that are a bit bigger,” Sophia said. “But might as well just to get it out of the way.”

  “Right, and here’s how you do that . . .”

  * * *

  After several months upside down the Fiat wouldn’t start but there were plenty of other cars abandoned outside the gates.

  “Orders, ma’am,” the sergeant major said as the abandoned small SUV finally caught.

  “The way the Marines usually do this is two-man teams,” Sophia said. “I don’t think we should split up, though. Find a car with a sunroof. Put the Singer up there. Put that in the lead. I’ll take that one. Then the rest of the teams, two to a car. Wait . . .” She stopped and thought. “Stand by. Division, Away Team.”

  “Away team, Division.”

  “We can secure this marina. There are gates and we can get them closed. Request additional support for hand-off of refugees at the marina gate. We’ll handle the town. Over.”

  “Roger, away team, we’re observing that. We’ll unload the security element from the Guppy to hold the gate, over. Also going to check on the fuel situation. One of these yachts is nearly dry.”

  “Thanks, Division. Seawolf out. Okay, that’s got us a secure point to fall back on. We’ll go as a group forward. If we find refugees, we’ll send them back with a two-man security team. Does that sound like a plan?”

  “Sounds like a plan, ma’am,” Sergeant Major Barney said. “All right, you horrible lot . . . !”

  * * *

  “Hola!” Sophia said as an emaciated man staggered out of the apartment complex. He was being helped along by Olga and Yu. “Buenos dias!”

  “Buenos dias, verdaderamente,” the man said. “Bendice a la Armada de Estados Unidos!”

  There were four more refugees with him, each skinny as a rail. But most people they found were. The apocalypse had been the best diet plan in history.

  “Bendiciones para los habitantes de las islas Canarias,” Sophia said. “Sergeant Major?”

  “Hill, Hadley, get these people back to the marina, then catch up.”

  “YES, SERGEANT MAJOR.”

  CHAPTER 26

  “Before we move you over to the other boat, you need to go through a decontamination shower.”

  Thomas Walker covered his shades-covered eyes with his arms against the sun and just reveled for a moment at the touch of sunshine. There were thin clouds that cut down on it a bit but that was for the good. After so long in that fetid hold it was glorious. The smell of rotting flesh had become so common he barely noticed it. What he mostly noticed was the strong, fresh, wind from the sea. It smelled like wine it was so clean.

  Thomas Walker wasn’t his real name. It was a common alias he’d used over the years. So common, he’d stopped using it years before the Plague. He knew why he’d instinctively given an alias when the crap hit the rotary impeller. He was out in the cold. Until he was sure what he was dealing with, he was staying under cover. Right now what he seemed to be dealing with was some sort of militia, not the pre-Plague military.

  The other reason was, this was a new world. That was what none of the idiots he’d shared the compartment with for six long months could understand. Who you had been, what you had done, accomplishments and failures, no longer existed. The only thing that existed, now, is who you really were.

  For now, he would be Thomas Walker, English as a Second Language Instructor, and just go with the flow.

  The harbor of Santa Cruz de Tenerife was crowded with boats and ships. There were two megayachts, a dozen smaller yachts, two supply ships, a small passenger liner and a tanker all moored in the channel. Around and between them zipped at least a dozen inflatables.

  What he noticed, first, was that one of the megayachts was the Den´gi Ni Za Chto. That was Nazar Lavrenty’s yacht. So the oligarch was apparently involved. Not something in the group’s favor: he couldn’t imagine Lavrenty changing his spots. An American flag was flying from it, but flags could be changed. There were some uniforms, all U.S. Navy and he’d seen one Coast Guard driving a boat. Uniforms could have come from a salvaged vessel. Although it would take a ballsy militia to loot a Navy ship. Or complete idiots, like the Somalis. The team that found them identified themselves as United States Marines and they had the sound. Except for the woman who he’d pegged as teenage girl despite the encumbering gear. Teenage girls were not Marine lieutenants. Or, perhaps they were in an apocalypse. New world. Which was rather exciting, since he had been getting bored with the old one.

  “There are some clothes, not much, over here,” the man said. “Grab a pair of shorts, a shirt, a towel and one of the plastic trash bags. Put the shorts, shirt and towel on the table by the shower. Get in the shower. Put your clothes and personal effects in the bag. Then turn on the water. You get one temperature, which generally feels scalding at first. You can take as long as you’d like, we refilter the water, but please clean off quickly. We’ve got more survivors coming through. Do not drink the water. It has decontamination chemicals in it and while it won’t kill you, it will make you throw up. If you’re really thirsty, right now, there are bottles of water. So grab some clothes and let’s get moving.”

  “May I ask a question, sir?” Walker said, raising his hand.

  “It’s gone,” the young man said. “It’s all gone. It’s the first question I asked, too. It’s what everyone asks. I
f you don’t believe me, try to get one of the Zodiac guys to drop you off on the shore. Ask the zombies. Whatever place you’re asking about, we probably don’t have contact and we don’t know. There’s some Yanks who are in a headquarters somewhere in the U.S. Omaha or something like that. They’re sort of in charge but they can’t get out. Now, we really need to do the showers so I can get you over to the boat and you can get some food, a bunk and people who are there to answer your questions.”

  The response sounded rote. The guy had answered the question before. A lot.

  “Decontamination shower” had some rather unpleasant historical connotations. But he could smell the chemicals and there was enough spray around that if it was mixed with, say, Tabun, the guy running the shower would have been doing the dying cockroach.

  Thomas grabbed a pair of Navy PT shorts and a Marine T-shirt. Someone had found a well-stocked U.S. Navy ship. Presumably the Hole had given them permission to loot it.

  The shower was, as advertised, hot. And that was good after spending months in a hold with limited, and always cold, water.

  He showered quickly. He wanted to just sit under the water for an hour. But he washed grabbed his towel, shorts and shirt, put them on and got out.

  “Put the towel in the bucket, please,” the young man said, pointing to a blue bucket. “They get laundered and reused. What compartment were you in?”

  “L-1438,” Thomas said tossing the towel in the barrel.

  The kid pulled out a piece of plastic and a Sharpie and carefully wrote L-1438 on it.

  “Were all you in the same compartment?” he asked, handing it to Thomas.

  “Yes.”

  “Right,” the kid said, pulling out more plastic and starting to write the compartment on them.

  “May I ask the purpose of this?” Thomas asked.

  “They keep people in the same compartment together at first, mostly,” the kid said. “You may bloody hate your compartment mates but they’re the only people you know at first.”