Islands of Rage and Hope (eARC)

by John Ringo

  The problem of landing the ammo was that they, as usual, could not just pull the Grace Tan up to the dock. There were too many wrecks and it wasn't a big dock. So the ammo had to be cross-loaded to small boats and then carried to the dock, or the beach, and unloaded. The term was "lightering."

  Sophia was in charge of supervising the Zodiacs unloading on the beach and providing security. The actual security of island was demonstrated by the fact that they were unloading predawn and an infected had so far failed to show up for the buffet.

  A few of the refugees and locals had agreed to get out of bed and help out. Anna was, unsurprisingly, one of them.

  "Looks that way," Sophia said. She felt kind of like a schmo not helping unload the ammo. But she was busy as a one armed paper-hanger.

  "Can I go?" Anna asked, sadly. "It's...my home."

  "London is a burned-out shell," Sophia said, signing another damned sheet of paper. The ammo couldn't just be handed over, willy-nilly. It had to be signed for. She had Olga making sure the numbers were right. "There's not really anything to see. We're not taking anybody who's not critical to the operation and I'm not taking my boat so I can't smuggle you along. So...I don't see a way."

  "Are the astronauts going?" Anna asked.

  "Oh...crap," Sophia said. "That question never even came up. Since I handed off quarantine duty...I had completely forgotten about them. I mean, not completely, but...Crap. I need to go. I'll see if I can get a slot for you on the float, but...I need to go."

  "Go," Anna said, hefting a case of 5.56. "I can handle hanging out on Statia. But I'd like to at least see England."

  "It's covered, Ensign," Hamilton said. He, too, was on the beach supervising the offload.

  "Aye, aye, sir," Sophia said. "I was just wondering."

  "Occasionally, people do think of things before you, Ensign," Hamilton said. "It's covered."

  "Yes, sir," Sophia said. "I'll get back to counting ammo boxes."

  "Sir," Lieutenant Bowman said, pen poised over the sheet of paper. "Please tell me that if this is off by, say, a couple thousand rounds it is not going to come back and bite me in the ass."

  Ammo and supplies were piled higgledy-piggledy all over the beaches and piers of Sint Eustatius. There was no way in hell the inventory was accurate.

  "Do a recount after we're gone," Hamilton said, looking at his watch, then up to the sky which was clearly starting to lighten. "I'll recertify it. And, no, it's not going to bite you in the ass, Lieutenant. Holding me up will bite you in the ass."

  "Yes, sir," Bowman said, taking a deep breath and signing for more ammo than any one newbie straight-from-civilian lieutenant should be responsible for.

  "Grace, up anchor," Hamilton said, keying his mike. "Get moving. I'll catch up in a Zod."

  "Roger."

  "Thank you, Lieutenant," Hamilton said, taking his copy of the receipt. "Good luck."

  "Thank you, sir," Bowman said. He stepped back, came to the best position of attention he could muster and saluted. "I'll make sure the island doesn't go anywhere while you're gone."

  "Oorah," Hamilton said, returning the salute. He stepped into the waiting Zodiac and keyed his mike again. "Gunny, tell me that we've got everyone we need off this beach."

  "We are all feet wet except for yourself, sir," Gunny Sands replied. "So, with due respect, if you would kindly get your ass moving, sir."

  "Aye, aye, Gunny," Colonel Hamilton said, making sure the mike wasn't open. He grinned. "I was getting tired of this island, anyway..."

  Councilor Van Der Beek stepped out onto the ramparts of Fort Oranj, scratching his bare and very hairy stomach. It had become his custom to step out each morning and urinate over the wall, hopefully on one of the damned zombies.

  He idly looked out into the harbor, then stopped. He looked north. He looked south. He looked down at the beach where some remaining Navy personnel were apparently counting the piles of boxes that had mysteriously appeared overnight. What he did not see--

  "Waarom zijn alle boten verdwenen?" he asked. "En waar zijn mijn mariniers? WAAR ZIJN MIJN MARINIERS?"

  CHAPTER 29

  I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps,

  They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;

  I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps:

  His day is marching on.

  (chorus)

  --"The Battle Hymn of the Republic"

  "Ah, beautiful Guantanamo Bay," Sophia said as the Grace rounded Corinaso Point. "Again."

  It had been a forty hour run back to Gitmo with the Grace Tan more or less "hauling ass" at its flank speed of 25 knots. Which was not exactly smoking for most combat ships but truly was hauling ass for a support and supply ship.

  It was the middle of the night but the dockyard areas were bright as day and tugs were already prepared to take the big support ship alongside.

  "That's got to be attracting some infected," Faith said, leaning on the railing.

  "I heard that every now and again there's a boom from over at the fence line," Sophia said. "When they hit the minefield."

  "That's one way to get rid of them," Faith said.

  "You don't sound your usual chipper self, Sis," Sophia said. "This is me being supportive."

  "You heard the colonel, Soph," Faith said. "Two words: Air Assault."

  "Oh..." Sophia said, trying not to laugh. "Seriously? I'm looking forward to it!"

  "You like roller coasters," Faith growled. "And I thought you were being supportive?"

  "The heroic, the indomitable, Lieutenant Faith Smith, darling of the Marine Corps!" Sophia said.

  "Terrified of heights," they both said in unison.

  "Bite me, Sophia," Faith said.

  "Whatever you do, don't let them see you sweat," Sophia said seriously. "You can do it. 'Cause you have to. You know that."

  "I know I can do it," Faith said. "I know. Doesn't mean I want to. I'd almost rather fight my way in on foot if that made any sense at all."

  "I asked Colonel Hamilton about the astronauts," Sophia said, changing the subject. "He told me it was covered. Do you know what the plan is?"

  "Nope," Faith said. "But it's above my pay grade. I need to go get ready to take aboard all the gear and ammo we need for this. I don't know who is signing for all the helo parts but I know it's not me. Or, at least, it better not be. I don't know for helo parts."

  "My question is, where the hell are we putting it all?" Sophia said.

  "So, basically, we're going to have to break down your quarantine," Walker said, shrugging. "You're eight days into the cycle. If you have an immune system at all, it's either working or it's not. And we need to get this container off the ship."

  "Doctor, do you concur?" Commander Daniels asked.

  "We're probably going to get sick," Dr. Price said. "But we're going to get sick, anyway. Breaks of the job. You always do. We should be sufficiently resistant to the neurological packet we should not 'turn' at this point if that is what you are asking. Even assuming some reservoir of H7D3. Most of which should have burned out at this point. We should be fine."

  "Dr. Shelley," Walker said. "Mrs. Doctor, that is. The powers-that-be have asked if you'd be willing to accompany the mission. Not to do insertions, you understand. But we can take helmet cams along and your expertise could be crucial. Also, are either of you familiar with the London Research Institute?"

  "We've both been there many times," Tom Shelley replied. "Is that your target?"

  "For the vaccine materials, yes," Walker said. "It's a big building. We can use any intel on where materials might be stored."

  "Am I invited as well?" Tom asked.

  "That would be a natural assumption, Doctor," Walker said. "I did not mean to leave you out."

  "I understand that my wife has more experience in this matter," Tom said. "Rizwana? Are you willing to take an ocean voyage in winter?"

  "I will accompany you, of course," Rizwana said unh
appily. "Would there be any possibility of making a slight detour?"

  "How slight and to where?" Walker asked.

  "Our daughter lives in Clapham," Tom said quietly. "It's a borough of South London."

  "Oh," Walker said. "We'll have to see what the situation is when we arrive but...should be doable. Don't get your hopes up. The overheads are... Don't get your hopes up. Two last questions for the group. Well, passing an order and one question. Lieutenant Lyons, you are included on the mission. You may not be up to clearing buildings by then but we can use you for an air assault instructor."

  "Got it," Lyons said.

  "Oddly enough, no one has asked me to help on that one," Walker said. "Air-assault that is. But I'm a bit tied up being a baby doctor at the moment. Last, Colonel Kuznetsov. Captain Wilkes has asked if you would agree to be his copilot?"

  "Absolutely," the mission's assistant commander said. "I look forward to flying with the captain. I look forward to it so much, I don't even mind being a copilot."

  "It may be variable," Walker said. "The captain's previous experience was with SeaCobras, Hueys and CH-46s. The 53 flies more like an upgraded Hip. The size is taking some getting used to, from what I hear."

  "It would," Colonel Kuznetsov said. "On the other hand, I've never landed on a moving ship."

  "As long as it's not a pitching deck it's easier than it sounds," Walker said. "Again, nobody's asked if I can fly a helo. Much less a 53. All things considered, we should do this with some ceremony, but if you're ready to crack the hatch... We're scheduled to pick this container up in about ten minutes."

  "Time to go breathe real air again," Commander Daniels said, pulling himself up. "We're still a bit unsteady. Can we get a hand?"

  "Line of people waiting on you," Walker said.

  "Colonel," Steve said, saluting the colors and returning Hamilton's salute as he bounded up the gangway of the Grace Tan. "Good to have you back, however briefly."

  "Good to be back, sir," Hamilton said, looking around. While the piers weren't in quite as good a shape as before the plague, they were in remarkable shape given the time they'd been gone and were a scene of bustling activity. "Hell of a job here, sir."

  "Mostly Isham," Steve said. "Guy has a positive fury at messy industrial areas. How'd the astronauts take the news?"

  "They're all out of the container, sir," Hamilton said. "I understand we're taking Lieutenant Lyons, Colonel Kuznetsov and the Shelleys, sir? What about Dr. Price?"

  "We've got more total bodies here at Gitmo," Steve said. "And a lot more pregnant women. He's more needed here. And I've got plans for the others if they're willing to pitch in. So, yes, just those four. You'll be taking Walker, of course. He'll have to do for a doctor. We've got a container of ammo, including ammo for the door guns on the 53, a container of helo parts and tools, the Seahawk and mixed supplies to load. And the rest of your Marines as well as Lieutenant Szafranski are prepared to board. Last but not least, in the event you find the materials to make the vaccine, since you're taking the experts with you, one container has been made up as a turn-key lab for vaccine production. Hopefully, the glassware will survive the journey. Despite all of that, I want you out of here by zero four hundred."

  "Aye, aye, sir," Hamilton said. "We've got the working parties ready to start loading."

  "Not sure what we're waiting for, then," Steve said. "Time's a-wastin'."

  "I'm aware this is completely inappropriate," Faith said, hugging Staff Sergeant Januscheitis. "And I really don't give a shit."

  Faith had taken time she really shouldn't to track Janu down to where he was getting his gear secured in his quarters.

  "Good to see you, too, ma'am," Janu said, hugging her back.

  "You know, before this last float, losing you was 'well, that's how it goes,'" Faith said, releasing him. "Now, I'm fully prepared to bitch, whine, moan and complain until I get you back. You have no clue. All Marine Staff NCOs turn out to not be the same."

  "Issues, ma'am?" Januscheitis asked.

  "Nothing that I'm prepared to discuss officially, Staff Sergeant," Faith said. "But, yes, issues. Serious issues. Now I really need to go. I'm sure there's something I'm supposed to sign for."

  "So do I, ma'am," Januscheitis said. "I need to oversee loading the Seahawk. And Captain Wilkes is flying aboard with the Super Stallion and I'll need to be there to ensure it's secured properly."

  "We'll have time to talk on the float," Faith said. "But for now, mission face."

  "That is sort of..." Sophia said as the Seahawk was slung aboard from a barge. "It's sort of odd watching a helicopter get loaded. Flown on, I can see..."

  "Yeah, well, this ain't getting signed by itself, Sophia," Olga said, holding out the clipboard.

  "Work, work, work," Sophia said, looking at the form. "Wait a second. Why am I signing for a helicopter?"

  "You're the officer of the deck," Olga said, shrugging. "I'm sure as hell not signing for it."

  "Is it complete?" Sophia asked. "I mean, are all the parts installed?"

  "I don't know!" Olga said. "How the hell would I know? It has to be signed for, though."

  "Looks like I'm just signing for the airframe," Sophia said dubiously. "And that looks like it's all there... Hey! Staff Sergeant Januscheitis!"

  "Yes, ma'am!" Januscheitis shouted.

  "When you sign for a helicopter, are you signing for all the parts or what?"

  "Just the airframe, ma'am," Januscheitis replied. "And it's got all its parts. It just hasn't been fully certified, yet."

  "I'm going to regret this," Sophia said, signing the form. "I know I'm going to regret this. Ah, well, they can take it out of my pay..."

  "I don't sign for ammo until the Navy turns it over to us," Faith said, holding her hands up. "And that's on a mission by mission basis. Take it to my sister," she said, pointing.

  "You do sign for weapons," Walker said, handing her a clipboard. "Spare M4s, two-forties and parts for same. Now you understand why I'm sitting out being an officer at the moment."

  "Work, work, work," Faiths said, scribbling her name for what seemed the thousandth time.

  "You're supposed to count those, Lieutenant," Walker said.

  "Sir, aware that you are an actual 'sir,'" Faith said, "and I really should take your advice: One, we're in a hurry. Two, you're the one handing it to me. Three, they'd have to actually pay me to take it out of my pay."

  "You have a point, Lieutenant," Walker said, grinning.

  "Mr. Walker," a seaman said, holding out a clipboard. "Additional medical supplies."

  "Hah!" Faith said. "Your avoidance of responsibility will not avail you now, Flame of Udun!"

  "If I didn't have a perfectly suitable handle, I'd take Balrog," Walker said, looking at the sheet. "Where are these supposed medical supplies, seaman? Because I am going to count them..."

  "How does zero three hundred sound, sir?" Hamilton radioed as the Grace Tan was pulled away from the fueling dock by two harbor tugs.

  "It sounds like Captain Wilkes is taking off," Steve replied. "Any additional questions?"

  "No, sir," Hamilton said. "Although, I'm going to have everyone go back over the inventory of what was just loaded. I'd like you to keep the Pit Stop available to chase us down in case we missed anything critical."

  "Will do," Steve said. "FYI, some fellow named Councilor Van Der Beek has been screaming at everyone who will listen. Something about you shanghaiing his Marines. I have no clue what he's talking about. And apparently you negotiated an oil for food program?"

  "Sor..., si...," Hamilton said. "Skgritch! Sgrrrr! You're break...up... S'...gain...?"

  "Have fun in the North Atlantic, Colonel," Steve said. "I'll take care of it. Come to think of it, sounds like international relations. I'll get him in touch with the Hole..."

  "Whew," Hamilton said, wiping his brow theatrically. "Missed a bullet, there."

  "They'll figure it out," Captain Victor Gilbert said. The captain of the Grace Tan was watching the t
ugs balefully. "At least we left them the Alan Garcia."

  "Honestly, the Shivak and the Garcia were what we should have taken to the islands," Hamilton said. "Not that I haven't enjoyed your company. Question: have you coordinated with anyone on landing the Stallion?"

  "You're assuming I've never worked with a helo before, Colonel," Gilbert said. "We had to get some new radios installed. I'll talk to the pilot when he's in the air."

  "Got some Marine on the air frequency wants to talk to you, Captain," Kolb said.

  "Speaking of which..."

  "Yeah. I know to come into the wind. And I'm not going to be going fast 'cause 'into the wind' is pointed at the shoals. In fact, I ain't gonna be moving at all if I can help it. Roger?"

  "Roger," Captain Milo Wilkes said, banking the Super Stallion around to line up with the M/V Grace Tan. "Honestly, just hold it there. The winds are light. I can put it on the pad where you are."

  "Going aback. How's that? Wind and tide are drifting us a bit."

  "Good," Wilkes said, lowering. "I've got this..."

  He followed Staff Sergeant Januscheitis's hand and arm signals and put the bird down on the platform. He stayed light for a bit, then slowly let off on the collective to test the platform.

  "Marine Six has landed at zero three twenty-two hours," Wilkes radioed, going through shut-down procedures.

  "Yeah. We noticed. As soon are your jarheads have it tied down to my satisfaction, we are out of here. Might be a bit since I ain't easily satisfied."

  "Nice working with a professional," Wilkes muttered, starting his post-flight checklist. "I can tell this is going to be a great float..."

  "You have got to be kidding me..." Faith said.

  The swells off Kings Bay, Georgia weren't bad but there were swells. So the fast-rope hanging from a crane was swaying back and forth. And it was just in reach. She was going to have to step all the way to the edge of the catwalk around the bridge, from which a section of railing had been cut away, and grab it. As it was swaying. And the boat was rocking.