by John Ringo
“Me too,” Isham said.
“So we’re going to have to move,” Steve said.
“Move?” Isham said. “Why? We’ve got a good harbor here.”
“You’ve got Bermuda harbor,” Gilbert said. “Which is an okay harbor. You get hit by a really hard late season, I’m-going-to-rip-you-a-new-asshole hurricane, this is not the harbor you want to be in.”
“And with the ships, absent a truly excellent harbor, it’s better to be at sea,” Steve said. “If you’ve got the right crew. Which we don’t. And the small craft… There’s a reason they call it a ‘small craft advisory.’ Between the late season hurricanes that we’re going to get soon and the diurnals and winter storms… I’m thinking Canary Islands?”
“Good choice,” Gilbert said, nodding. “We’re going to have to fuel. I mean, the Grace has plenty for herself and could probably enough for a while for the small boats. But not to constantly refuel the Alpha.”
“Could you tow a full sized tanker?” Steve asked.
“Yes,” Gilbert said. “But I’d need a tow crew who knew what they were doing.”
“How about a guy who knows what he is doing and some people willing to learn?” Steve said, grinning. “Because that is the best you are going to get for any job in this flotilla.”
“What fun what fun,” Gilbert said, grimacing. “In that case, I can try. But I’ll be perfectly content to cut it loose.”
“Works,” Steve said. “ I think we’re going to have to leave the Vicky. I really should have gotten Mike in on this. But you’ve got quite a few accommodations from what I saw.”
“We could have carried a lot more people than we did,” Gilbert said, then sighed. “I don’t think that would have been a good idea.”
“There were few good choices,” Steve said. “As I said, my family was lucky. Although,” he added, shrugging. “The basic plan would have worked. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without one aspect but… Be that as it may, we can put more people on the Grace. We can put people on the Alpha. I’m willing to push it to the first diurnal or if we see a cyclone coming this way. For the diurnal we’ll bring the small boats in. But when either happens, we are upping stakes and heading away from the northeast Atlantic.”
“There are still a lot of boats and rafts out there,” Isham pointed out.
“And we can’t rescue anyone if we’re dead,” Steve said. “I am audacious, not stupid. Thereafter we will head to the Canaries and do this same thing, more or less. There are distress beacons everywhere and only we few, we happy few, to clear them. Depending on how many EPIRBs there are in that area, we may cut back across the ocean to the Carribean in winter. I would like to be off of Cuba by January. But I do not want to do that at the cost of leaving many behind. Which means we need more boats and more captains… Despite that, I’m going to start shutting down the thirty-fives, including the Endeavor. And I’m going to drag Captain Sherill out if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Good luck,” Isham said.
“Sherill?”
“Fully rated captain,” Steve said. “Who is totally stuck on his tiny little Bertram Thirty-Five. Used to run freighters for Maersk and chucked it, had a hissy fit as he puts it, for being a charter captain out of Charleston. Doesn’t want the responsibility. I’m going to have to convince him otherwise.”
“Like I said,” Isham said. “Good luck.”
There was a knock on the door and Isham looked at Steve.
“Enter!” Steve called.
“Commodore,” the young woman said nervously. “Sorry, but Captain Sherill is calling and he says it’s urgent.”
“Speaking of Captain Gilligan,” Steve said. “Where’s the radio room on this tub?”
* * *
“What’s up, Gi… Sea Fit?” Steve said.
“You need to get out here,” Sherill replied, instantly. “Now.”
Steve was used to the irrascible skipper’s usual tones. Desperately serious was a new one.
“Details,” he replied.
“You know how you’re always talking about people dying waiting for rescue in compartments?”
“Yes,” Steve said.
“It’s a cruise ship. I’m watching that in real time. Get in your fucking tub and get your Aussie ass and all the guns you can find out here. I’ll help clear this one. There are people still alive in their staterooms and they’re looking at me. I’m making a banner that says ‘Help is on the way. Hold on.’ Get out here, Wolf. Now.”
“All ships, relay that information to all receiving stations,” Steve said. “All vessels converge His Sea Fit’s location. Large, time to earn your munificent pay from your friendly Uncle. And time to fish or cut bait on the arms locker. Victoria, begin transfer all personnel and mobile equipment to Grace. Endeavor, Endeavor, Endeavor, Commodore, are you in radio range, over?”
“En- vo- proce- Sea-fit…”
“Endeavor’s about twenty miles away, Commodore,” Sherill called. “Their response was proceeding our location.”
“Begin surface clearance,” Steve said. “Do not do entry until I arrive. Relay that, Sherill. Commodore moving to location now. All vessels: don’t spare the horses. Wolf, out.”
He looked over at Isham and Gilbert.
“Get all of Victoria’s personnel and stores on your boat, Gilbert,” Steve said. “And any of the SLLs left. When you’re cross-loaded, head to the location. Isham, tell Captain Miguel to make ready for sea.”
“Are you taking this?”
“No time,” Steve said. “I wish I had something faster than the Toy.”
* * *
“That tears it,” Galloway said.
“Sir…” Commander Freeman said.
“I’m not talking about the captaincy, Commander,” Galloway said. “But we’re also not going to stand by and let who knows how many survivors die sealed into a cruise ship. Get me the Dallas and Charlotte…”
CHAPTER 28
“Time, time, time,” Steve said pushing the throttles of the Toy forward again. It didn’t give him any more speed. “Ask me for anything but…”
He stopped speaking as an attack boat made a fast surface off his starboard bow at about 1000 yards. He noted in the back of his mind that they’d surfaced upwind.
“Tina’s Toy, USS Dallas, over,” the radio crackled.
“Steve!” Stacey screamed from below.
“I see it,” Steve said, picking up the radio. “Wolf Actual, over.”
“Wolf, all possible support has been authorized for this operation,” the Dallas said. “USS Charlotte is in the process of taking the Campbell under tow to bring it to the cruise ship. We cannot supply clearance personnel but access to all USCG materials are, say again, are authorized and USCG personnel are to place themselves, temporarily, under your command for clearance and rescue support. We don’t have much in the way of shotgun rounds but we’re going to float what we have off in a boat, as will Charlotte upon arrival, to assist your clearance teams. Current weather report is no fronts or tropical activity for this area for a minimum of ten days. Some convection storms are possible but they are scattered. We will be monitoring all area channels but are now authorized to direct communicate. We will be taking over Marine Channel Thirty-Three. We will continue to give what support we can without being contaminated. Do you have any questions at this time?”
“Not that I can think of,” Steve said.
“We will draw ahead of you and drop off a radio on a float,” Dallas said, speeding up.
The Tina’s Toy was a fairly fast yacht. Not a racing yacht but no lubber. The Dallas just left it behind. On the surface.
“That radio is for your use and your use only, Commodore Wolf,” Dallas continued. “Higher would like to have a secure chat. Proceeding to the Sea Fit’s location. Good luck, Wolf.”
A bright orange buoy ejected from a launcher and the Dallas slipped below the waves. Steve was pretty sure by the time it disappeared it was going faster than a cigare
tte boat.
Stacey sat down next to him and wrapped her arms around him. Her eyes were misty.
“We’re in contact,” Steve said, hugging her.
“That’s not what I’m crying about,” Stacey said.
“What’s wrong?” Steve asked.
“Nothing,” Stacey said, hugging him again. “The commander of a U.S. Navy nuclear submarine called you ‘Commodore.’ And I don’t think he even realized he’d said it.”
“Oh, that,” Steve said, slowing the boat as Pat pulled out a boat hook to catch the buoy. “No worries, wife ’o mine. I’m sure he’s regretting it already.”
* * *
“Where do you want me to put it, Faith?” Sophia asked.
“How the fuck should I know?” Faith said. She sounded desperate. There was reason to be.
The cruise ship was massive. Really seriously stupidly huge. The boats around it were so many mice, no, fleas circling an elephant. A wounded and still bleeding elephant. Because rising as high as a sky scraper, or so it seemed from the water-line, there were state rooms. With exterior balconies. And on at least a dozen of those there were people watching the circling craft. People that looked like survivors of the death camps. Most of them couldn’t even stand. They were leaning against the railings, just staring with glassy eyes at the help just a few hundred yards away.
One of them on a lower balcony lurched to his feet and started to climb the rail.
“No, no, no,” Faith shouted.
“No! No! Sharks! Sharks! Sharks!” Sophia shouted over the loudhailer.
The man couldn’t seem to hear or understand. He more fell than dove over the side.
Hocieniec started firing from the aft deck but there was no way. There were sharks everywhere. It was unlikely that he was the first person who’d taken that way out in preference to starvation or dehydration. The man didn’t even scream as he was taken under.
“Why, damnit, why?” Faith shouted. She picked up the mike for the loudhailer. “STAY WHERE YOU FUCKING ARE! WE WILL COME FOR YOU. JUST HOLD ON!”
“How?” Sophia asked. “There’s no entries. And that promenade…”
It wasn’t really a promenade. It was the life-boat deck. And that was fifty feet above the flying bridge of the Endeavor.
“How the hell am I supposed to know?” Faith repeated.
“You’re the entry specialist,” Sophia said, calmly. “I’m trying not to stress you. I really am asking.”
“Hooch,” Faith shouted. “How would the Marines board this thing?”
“A helicopter!” Hooch shouted back. “Or a boarding ladder.”
“There’s a helo on the Alpha,” Sophia said.
“You know how to fly one?” Faith asked, somewhat hysterically.
“Faith, take some breaths, sis,” Sophia said, calmly. “We’re going to do this. We are.”
“Okay, okay,” Faith said. “We get a grapnel up. Then… I dunno, maybe with some knots in it or something?”
“There we go,” Sophia said. “It’s going to be a bitch to climb.”
“Yeah,” Faith said. “Especially in armor. And if we drop in the drink… Shit…”
“Keep going,” Sophia said.
“Well…” Faith said, then stopped. “Or maybe we could ask the sub if they’ve got an idea.”
“What su…” Sophia said, looking around, then stopped.
“Local Wolf Squadron boats, USS Dallas. Looking for the boarding action commander. Please switch to Channel Thirty-Three. All captains may monitor but request not break. Again, USS Dallas looking for boarding action commander. Shewolf, you on the Endeavor, over?”
“So we’re Wolf Squadron, huh?” Sophia said, picking up the radio and handing it to Faith. “Faith, honey, take a deep breath and don’t get hysterical when you’re talking to him.”
“I’m not the boarding action commander,” Faith said. “That’s Da.”
“You’re the closest,” Sophia said. “Want me to take it?”
“No,” Faith said, her face firming. She took the radio and cleared her throat. “Thirty three?”
“You’re on,” Sophia said.
“Dallas, Shewolf,” Faith said. “Over.”
“Shewolf, we’ve been monitoring your squadron’s communications. Your reputation precedes you. The man who is filling in as president says that the moment he meets you he’s going to cover you with so many medals, you’re not going to be able to move. Of course the same can be said of everyone in this squadron. But we know you’re the Squadron’s premier clearance specialist. This has got to be a nightmare for you. Over.”
“Got it in one,” Faith said. “Over.”
“We can’t get out of this tin can. We’re still uninfected and can’t change that for any reason. But we are going to do everything else we can to help. Have you discussed how to do entry?”
“Roger,” Faith said. “All we’ve got so far is throw up a grapnel with a knotted rope. Lance Corporal Hocieniec is still not really in shape. And I’m not what you call a great climber. That completely skips the whole man-eating sharks, part. And the zombies at the top. Still thinkin it, over. Over.” ///copy editor: sic///
“We have an assault boarding ladder,” Dallas replied. “We will float that off along with all of our onboard shotgun ammo and the shotguns. We use nine mil onboard. Can you use that, over?”
“Not really,” Faith said. “Limited guns for it and we carry mostly forty-five. We’re okay, for now, on forty-five. The shotgun ammo is, yeah, going to be helpful. But,” she unkeyed the mike for a second. “Hey, Hooch, you know how to use an ‘assault boarding ladder’?”
“Yeah!” Hooch said. “Sort of. I mean, I’ve seen it done.”
“Dallas, we may need somebody to coach us through using an assault boarding ladder, over,” Faith said.
“We’ll do that, Shewolf,” Dallas responded. “The tough part is the throw. It’s got a double line. You get the grapnel up, make sure it’s on, then pull in on one of the lines. That pulls the ladder up and it hooks in at the top. Then it’s just a matter of climbing the ladder. Stand by….”
“Roger,” Faith said, shrugging at Sophia’s look.
“Shewolf, have your boats pull back. We’re going to do a close approach and send up a party to clear off some of the zombies from your boarding area. We may, say again may, be able to get the ladder in place for you.”
“Don’t get yourselves contaminated doing that,” Faith replied, sharply. “You’re the closest thing we’ve got to home left, Dallas. Look… Just. Standby.”
“Roger, Shewolf.”
“Hooch,” Faith called. “They want to shoot some zombies off the side and maybe get the boarding ladder in place. I’m afraid they’re going to get contaminated.”
“They’ve got suits like moonsuits onboard, Faith,” Hooch called back. “And a machinegun. I think they can do it. The question is can they get the zombies up to the boarding area?”
“Dallas, you sure you can do this and not contaminate yourself?” Faith asked. “Cause I just thought of something.”
* * *
“She’s more worried about losing a sub than her own life,” Galloway said. “I am going to cover that girl in medals. So help me God.”
* * *
“What is your suggestion, Shewolf?”
“We’ve got some vaccine,” she said, looking at Sophia. “It’s still good, right?” she whispered.
“Should be,” Sophia said. “We even stabilized it.”
“Not a lot left, but enough for a small team. We’d really appreciate the help with the boarding. But I’m worried about the rest of your crew getting contaminated. So… Your guys clear the group off. Get the ladder up if they can. Then put them off in a lifeboat or something. We’ll get them some vaccine. It’s supposed to take two weeks to work. But they can’t get the blood pathogen except with a bite or getting blood in a cut. And if that’s all you get, well, I survived after just the primer. So all they get, maybe, is the
flu bug. And we’ll keep away from them so they shouldn’t get that. I guess you can float them rations or something. So… They hang out until they’re boosted. Ten days on a raft. Most of the…squadron has done two months. If you can spare them and if somebody wants to volunteer. And if that makes any sort of sense. Over.”
“Interesting plan. Considering that, Shewolf. Being discussed by experts. We have volunteers either one way or both. Have your boats clear back from the port side. We are going to do a close approach for direct fire.”
“Roger, Dallas,” Faith said. “Thanks. Really, really appreciate it.”
“Hey, you’ve got the tough part, miss. Dallas out.”
“Squadron, this is Seawolf,” Sophia said over the flotilla net. She engaged the engines to full and turned to port as she said it. “Clear the port side, say again, port side of the ship. Dallas is going to do a ‘close approach for direct fire.’ Get way, way back. In fact, get forward and way back or on the far side of the ship. Ricochets from machine-gun fire can kill you at a mile.”
“You girls just know too damned much about guns,” Sherill growled. “Moving around to the far side. I do want to watch, but not enough to get hulled.”
“We were approaching your location,” Chris called from the Cooper. “But on consideration, I’m stopping about five miles out. Nice to see the bloody USN decided to finally show up to the party.”
“Navy’s here?” someone called. “Hallelujiah!”
“Submarine,” Sophia said. “It can’t do much but fire from range. They’re not contaminated and don’t want to be that way. But, yeah, we’ve got some support. Finally.”
“Chuck, switch to twenty-three and I’ll fill you in,” Chris said. “I was monitoring the conversation.”
“Be nice to get some help. Switching.”
* * *
The “radio” was a blue satellite phone with no markings on it. Steve set the Toy on autopilot and hit the only number listed.
“Strategic Armaments Control, is this Commodore Wolf?”
“Roger,” Steve said.
“Stand by, please.”
There was a click.
“Wolf?”
“Roger.”
