by John Ringo
“Before Lieutenant Smith leaves, any questions? Captain Wilkes.”
“Any intel on the ships other than ‘there’s lots of infected,’ Lieutenant?” Wilkes asked.
“We found a security point on the supermax, sir,” Faith said, tapping the report. “There are the usual brochure maps and one detail map that covers the non-passenger areas, sir. We also recovered several keycards, one of them a senior purser. They give access to some areas. We found one door we couldn’t open but… That’s as far as we got, sir.”
“Numbers?” Wilkes said. “Useful intelligence?”
“I’ll cover that, Captain,” Captain Smith said. “For your general information on clearance of a large ship, you can never determine numbers of survivors or infected until you open a hatch, Captain. Infected only need water. They’ll eat each other if there’s no other food source. If there are reserves of water, you can expect infected. So when you analyze the map, assume infected in any area with fresh water sources. Survivors are generally, not always, found in areas with food storage below the fresh-water tanks. Otherwise, your guess is as good as anyone’s.”
“Look out for the spa,” Faith said, muzzily. “There’s a spa listed. Spas aren’t good. You get in the scrum in spas.”
“Translated as use a large force for spa clearance which I and Lieutenant Fontana can cover,” Steve said. “Lieutenant, you’re dismissed until tomorrow morning. Have your team ready for clearance ops by 0800 hours tomorrow. Understood?”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Faith said.
“Your gear should already have been moved over here. Ask Mrs. Bailey where it’s at.”
“Yes, sir,” Faith said.
“That means you can get up and leave, Faith,” Steve said, shooing her. “Go.”
“Roger,” Faith said, standing up. “See you tomorrow.”
* * *
“As to ‘useful intelligence,’ Captain,” Steve said. “The fact that the Lieutenant’s team was able to get us full deck plans is a blessing. We might be able to make a rational guess where survivors are located and we’ll concentrate on that at first.”
“I was not meaning to imply any lack of confidence in the Lieutenant, sir,” Wilkes said, tightly.
“Captain, your lack of confidence in my daughter is writ large,” Steve said, chuckling. “You don’t care for her being a Marine officer. I get that. For that matter, you don’t like that I’m an instant Navy Captain and your boss. Get that as well. When you’ve had some experience clearing a large vessel, you can, as the Gunnery Sergeant did, revisit your calculation. It is experiential. You may retain your opinion or modify it. I really don’t care which as long as it doesn’t interfere with the mission. Now, we’re going to pull out those blueprints the Lieutenant’s team found and try to go at this with an actual plan for a change… ”
* * *
“Captain, a moment of your time?” Lieutenant Chen said as the meeting broke up.
“Sure, Lieutenant,” Steve said. “What’s up.”
“I… I do not have Captain Wilkes’ issues with Lieutenant Smith,” Chen said. “Either Smith. I’ve found them both to be extremely competent especially given their age. They’re… I’m not blowing smoke, sir, when I say they’re a real credit to you and your wife, sir.”
“They’re… ” Steve said then shrugged. “It’s both a very proud papa and a trying to be dispassionate observer who agrees. Their achievements speak for themselves. I take it, though, that there has been an issue?”
“There was, sir,” Chen said, reluctantly. “Any good officer knows that there are things to overlook. For example, there are shall we say ‘special stores’ on the boats… ”
“Given that there’s no real pay to be seen on the horizon, I’ve ignored the fact that boats like Sophia’s are turning into floating treasure galleons,” Steve said. “And as for the booze… I was once told by an officer I admired that there’s no point in giving an order you know won’t be obeyed. But if you want me to discuss it with Sophia… ”
“I’m going to do that, sir,” Chen said. “But that’s not the issue, sir. Sir, in the middle of the battle yesterday, Faith went dress shopping.”
“Excuse me?” Steve said.
“One of the containers we used to block the quay turned out to contain some formal dresses, sir,” Chen said. “Faith… protracted the engagement to sort through them looking for a dress for the Marine Corps Ball, sir.”
“Seriously?” Steve said. “I mean… Seriously?”
“Yes, sir,” Chen said. “I haven’t formally investigated it, sir, but… ”
“I hear what you’re saying, Lieutenant,” Steve said, carefully. “And I understand your concern. It… it just doesn’t sound like Faith. She’s not normally a shopaholic.”
“The Marines think it’s funny, sir,” Chen said, seriously. “Just another example of, well, ‘Miss Faith.’ But it put them in a dangerous position while the Lieutenant went, well, dress shopping, sir. I understand she is your daughter, sir, but… ”
“That’s… Yes,” Steve said. “She is. However, I convinced the Gunny she was worthy of a lieutenancy on the basis that she’s not quite as immature as she acts. This is a counter example. Did she give any argument in favor? I mean, I cannot find an argument but… ”
“I haven’t brought it up with her, yet, sir,” Chen said. “It’s a touchy subject. The Marines think the world of her and they think it was hilarious. But it was not only putting her Marines in jeopardy to go dress shopping, it was using them for personal privilege, sir. On the other hand, she’s a Marine, not Navy, and she’s your daughter, sir. I’d considered bringing it up with Captain Wilkes but… You’re my chain of command, sir. And she’s your daughter.”
“Well, I’m her chain of command as well,” Steve said. “I’d like to bring her in to discuss it. See if she has any reasonable arguments. If not… Letter of reprimand?”
“I… wouldn’t go that far, sir,” Chen said. “Possibly a written counseling statement.”
“Very well,” Steve said. “I’ve got a slot at fourteen-thirty. Bring her by.”
* * *
Faith woke from a dream that all the women who’d been raped and murdered on the Alpha were trying to talk to her. She couldn’t understand their words, though. Just that they were warning her of something.
She really didn’t like being on the Alpha. She’d had to clear it with her Dad and Sergeant Fontana and it was one of the clearances that gave her nightmares. On the other hand, she had a cabin to herself and a private bathroom. She’d put up with the nightmares.
Someone had kindly laid out a pair of shorts and a Marines T-shirt on her bed before she got there. And all her stuff was not only in the room but unpacked and put in drawers. Her hard-found dress was in the closet and someone had even put it in a plastic bag.
She’d just dropped her uniform on the deck, pulled off her bra and crawled into the sheets, she was that tired. The brown T-shirt and panties were fresh. Good enough.
She got up and went into the bathroom and examined herself in the mirror.
“Okay, now I get what they mean by ‘death warmed over.’ ” Her face was drained. She looked like a recent kill. Maybe that’s what the women were trying to tell her. “You look like shit, Faith.”
She wasn’t even sure what time it was. She could see it was twilight. Probably the sun was going down, not coming up. If it was coming up, she was already late for assembly.
There was a sign in the shower stall: “Please conserve water. Wet down. Turn off the water. Lather up. Rinse off.”
She turned the shower on full and just hung her head under it. Screw water conservation. They could get some from the fresh water tanks on the freighter. The freighter her team had fucking cleared. And if they ran out? Well, they’d just clear another fucking freighter. Or get it from the liner. Liners always had big fucking fresh water tanks.
The shower helped. She did some push-ups and sit-ups and stretches and that helped
more.
By the time she’d gotten done with that, her stomach was rumbling.
“Time to find food,” she muttered.
She was off duty so she just wore the Marine T-shirt and shorts and some flip-flops. If anybody had a problem with that, they could bite her.
When she got to the main saloon, there was a buffet laid out and it was about full of people. What got her, initially, was that there were very few she’d recognized. While her team had been clearing the towns in the Canaries, the rest of the Squadron had been doing recovery ops at sea and apparently they’d been pretty successful. She saw a few of the girls from the Money scattered around but they seemed to be “sponsors.” Mostly it was one to a table. And you could tell a lot of the people were “freshies,” fresh off the lifeboat or out of a compartment. The “boaties” all had super dark tans. The “ghosts,” compartment people, were all wearing shades and were either ghost white or sunburned.
She grabbed a tray and started filling up a plate. She’d always worried about her weight but clearance ops were calorie intensive. You could eat about anything you wanted when you were spending all day climbing stairs carrying a hundred pounds of gear, ammo and weapons and fighting zombies. Another benefit of a zombie apocalypse.
“Hey, LT,” a voice said.
She turned around and thought about it. The face was familiar…
“Sergeant Smith,” Smith said. “I was in the compartment with Staff Sergeant Januscheitis, Lieutenant.”
“Smitty,” Faith said, nodding. “He talks about you a lot.”
“Marines are over on the other side of the messdeck,” Smitty said, gesturing with a thumb. “The Staff Sergeant’s still down. But Derk and Pag are over there.”
“I’ll be right over,” Faith said. “Just let me load up with some carbs.”
“I can get that for you, ma’am,” Smitty said.
“I think I can carry my own tray, Sergeant,” Faith said. “But thanks.”
She skipped the deserts, her tray was getting overloaded and she could always come back, and headed over to the table.
“Room for one more?” she asked.
“Right here, Skipper,” Pagliaro said, pulling out a chair.
“Why thank you, kind sir,” Faith said, sitting down. “And I know you work for a living.”
“How’d the meeting go, ma’am?” Derek asked.
“I only sort of vaguely remember it,” Faith said. “I get the feeling Captain Wilkes doesn’t like me.”
“He’s trade school, ma’am,” one of the Marines said. “Citadel of all places. He’s not really that up on ROTC officers. And he’s a pilot. They’re all ‘I’m a pilot so I’m hot shit.’ ”
“He’s doing okay at running the clearance,” another said, shrugging. “For a guy who’s not infantry.”
“How’s it going?” Faith asked. She was vaguely aware that it wasn’t a good idea for an officer to get into running down a superior.
“Lots of zombies,” one of the Marines said. “Lots of fucking zombies.”
“Lieutenant Fontana said it’s almost as bad as the Voyage,” another said. “But the cabins weren’t locked down.”
“How come so many survived?” Pagliaro said. “I mean, water, hello!”
“Fountains,” Sergeant Smith said. “The place has fucking fountains and pools everywhere. And they were all full. There’s also pools on the upper deck that caught rainwater. And most of the doors were open so they could move around. Some of the compartments below the water tanks had valves leaking or partially opened. It’s a fucking zombie fest.”
“Which Captain Wilkes has been careful to avoid,” one of the Marines said. “He hasn’t gone past the embarkation area.”
“And he had us lay out all the bodies and ‘prepare them for proper burial,’ ” another said. “If he expects us to do that with the whole ship… ”
“Then we’ll do it with the whole ship,” Sergeant Smith said.
“Da’ll just have us scatter beetles,” Faith said. “There’s no way to clear two or three thousand bodies.”
“What I don’t get is how you and your dad cleared one of these by yourselves,” a Marine said. “Jesus, ma’am. I mean… We’ve only got two decks clear.”
“One compartment at a time,” Faith said. “And it wasn’t just Da and I. There was Sergeant… Lieutenant Fontana and Hooch. But, yeah, it was a bit of a wanker. Really rather change the subject. Okay, we’re all Marines, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Smitty said.
“Not everybody in the saloon?”
“No, ma’am,” Smith said, frowning.
“How come half the people in this room are wearing Marine and Navy T-shirts?” Faith asked.
“Oh, that,” Smitty said, chuckling. “There was a big stash of them on the Iwo. You know how finding clothes that fit is tough, ma’am. So they just are handing them out to whoever gets found.”
“Ah,” Faith said. “That makes sense. It sort of makes it hard separating the sheep from the goats, though.”
“Well, I guess we could give them all dresses, ma’am,” Derek said.
“Bite your tongue,” Faith said. “Those are works of art!”
“We heard about your little combat shopping spree, ma’am,” Sergeant Smith said over the chuckles.
“Okay, okay, so I went a little nuts,” Faith said. “Sue me. You’re guys. You don’t get it.”
“We figure we’d do the same thing if it was a container full of Guinness, ma’am,” Derek said, grinning. “Don’t sweat it. No worries.”
“Is the door still holding?” Faith asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” Smitty said. “We did some reinforcing on it. Well, covered some Navy guys who reinforced it.”
“We need to get those out of the container and into safety,” Faith said. “Seriously. Those are works of art. You don’t just leave them to get rained on or overrun by infected.” She looked at her empty plate and sighed. “I really shouldn’t do dessert… ”
“I’ll get you something, ma’am,” one of the Marines said. “What do you want?”
“I appreciate it, again,” Faith said, standing up. “But, you guys have been clearing all day while I was napping. I should do my own fetching.”
* * *
“So that’s Shewolf?” one of the Marines said as she walked away. He added a whistle. “Damn that’s some fine jailbait.”
“Olsen, I will personally ram a fork down your throat,” Pagliaro said.
“And the rest of us will hold you down,” Smitty added. “Not to mention disrespect to a superior officer.”
“I wasn’t being… ” Olsen said. “I guess I was but, just… wow! And I am being very respectful of the LT, Sergeant. Nothing but admiration. But is she really… I mean, she’s big for a chick, especially a, you know, thirteen-year-old chick, but is she really as badass as everybody says?”
“Worse,” Derek said. “Dead killer combat shooter, rifle or pistol. She’s killed so many infected she just does it without thinking. Muscle fucking memory. Sees an infected, kills it. I’ve never seen her use her kukhri but Lieutenant Fontana said she’s pretty much the same at melee range. You’ve seen the video, right?”
“Yes, Corporal, I have,” Olsen said. “Just having hard time connecting Miss Hotty with it.”
“Then there’s the drinking thing,” Derek said, shaking his head.
“Drinking?” Olsen said. “Isn’t she a little young?”
“Rather the not drinking, usually, thing,” Derek said. “She only drinks, like, water and fruit juice. Doesn’t like the taste of beer or wine.”
“But she’s okay with straight liquor,” Pag said, chuckling.
“Straight?” Olsen said.
“Drinks it like water,” Derek said. “Isn’t really into it cause it barely gives her a buzz. Just takes a couple shots ‘Is this supposed to be doing something?’ I’ve seen her drink enough to put down a Gunny and it not even faze her.”
“Damn,” Ol
sen said, laughing. “Okay, I guess she can be an officer.”
“As if it’s up to you to judge,” Derek said.
“She does have a tendency to pass out at a certain point,” Pagliaro said, snickering.
“Pass out?” Olsen said.
“First night we were clearing the Boadicea she practically face planted in her plate at dinner,” Pag said, laughing. “Like ‘I’ve got reports to write. . . . Snore . . .’ ”
“She’s thirteen,” Derek said. “She’s still growing. I’m always surprised she hangs as long as she does. And, Pag, you were ten minutes behind her.”
“I get that,” one of the Marines said. “Clearing is fucking hell on your adrenal gland. I thought the Stan was bad.”
“Fuck, I’m a God damned airframe mechanic,” Olsen said. “This shit is for Oh-Three-Elevens.”
“We’re all infantry now,” Derek said. “At least, that’s the way Captain Carrion sees it. And he is another Smith I am not going to fuck with. Hooch says her dad is as badass as Faith. And that’s pretty fucking badass for a Navy Captain.”
* * *
Faith trolled the dessert tray but she’d filled up on “regular” food and wasn’t quite ready to pile on pure sugar. The chocolate tray was tempting. Apparently someone had found a stash of Godiva. She ate a couple at the buffet then headed back to the Marine table. She was still tired and dessert could wait.
Half way across the room a hand grabbed her arm.
“Hey, Tootsie,” the man said, holding out an empty high-ball glass. “Get me another Glenlivet.”
Faith just stood there in shock for a moment. The dude, who looked to be in his early fifties, was clearly a “boat” freshy. He had one hell of a tan.
“Uh, sir… ” The table “sponsor” looked like one of the Money girls and had a slight Slavic accent. “That’s… ”
“Let go of my arm,” Faith said. “The last person who grabbed me I literally cut their fucking hand off at the wrist.”
“Do you know who I am?” the man snapped.
“Somebody who needs to learn some fucking manners,” Faith said, grabbing his thumb and twisting it into a lock.
“Ow!” the man said. “Jesus, let go of me you crazy bitch!”
