by John Ringo
“How does the Nick know we’re good officers?” Faith asked. “It’s not like he’s here.”
“There’s a good bit of back channel going on through the subs,” Steve said. “I don’t mind it; the pros want to know that I’m not going hog wild. And we’re about the only entertainment the subs and The Hole have these days. So, yes, the Nick knows who you are and the officers in the Hole can make some rational judgments as to whether you’re doing your jobs and are worthy of promotion. Under Secretary Galloway says that your reports are getting much better, Faith. I’m putting Lieutenant Buford in charge of ensuring that improvement continues. And that you continue your schooling.”
“Ugh,” Faith said. “And I was looking forward to this float.”
“Sophia, your new deck crewman was an ESL teacher,” Steve said. “From the test scores, he has to be a fairly smart fellow. So I’m going to put him in charge of continuing your education as well. If that doesn’t work out, we’ll figure out something.”
“And running a Division and a boat,” Sophia said. “Da, this is getting worse than that walk in the rain.”
“Don’t remind me of that,” Faith said.
“There will be universities again someday,” Steve said. “Somewhere. And when there are, you’re both going. You have to be prepared, however. Now… we all have duties. Stay safe, please.”
“We will, Da,” Faith said. “As long as the fricking toy you put me on doesn’t sink.”
* * *
“We have a cook?” Sophia asked, stepping into the zodiac and sitting down quickly. “Get us gone from this mob, Tom.”
The new crew member had picked up some threads on his expedition. He now was wearing a bright Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts that appeared a size too large for him. On the other hand, there was a bag in the dinghy that had a blue jumpsuit in it.
“We are out of here,” Tom said, puttering through the crowd of boats. Fortunately, they were all inflatables and while he occasionally bumped other boats, they were, well, inflatables. The inner tubes just bounced off each other.
“Batari Dian Eko, Ensign Sophia Smith.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Eko,” Sophia said.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Acting Ensign,” Batari said, carefully.
The cook was, if anything, more round than Celementina. This was going to be interesting.
“My mistake, hang on,” Tom said. He chattered at the cook for a moment.
“I apologize,” Batari said. “I am not good with the rank. Congratulations on your promotion, Ensign.”
“Thanks,” Sophia said. “It was a completely surprise. So was the promotion to Division Commander.”
“My automatic reaction based on my previous service is to flinch,” Tom said. “You’re not ready to command thirty-two thousand men. Then I remembered with the Navy that’s a three or four element unit. Three boats?”
“Yes,” Sophia said. “And you’re going to be getting some personal orders to assist in my continuing education.”
“I’m not surprised your father is interested in that,” Tom said. “Being a teacher as he was. I can handle pretty much anything you need taught.”
“I was taking Chemistry,” Sophia said.
“Analytical or experimental?” Walker said. “And I don’t know where we’re going to find a lab but I can probably gin up some doozy experiments with explosives.”
“Not on my boat,” Sophia said, laughing. “Where did you learn explosives?”
“I’ve been around the block a few times,” Tom said. “Let’s say that while a zombie apocalypse is my first apocalypse, disasters I’ve seen a few. ESL teacher is a somethingth career. I can and have taught a good number of classes. It will be an honor continuing your education, Ensign.”
“And we have a group photo op the day of the float,” Sophia said. “And I need to get ahold of my two new Division boat captains and actually meet them. They were somewhere in the crowd but there was no way to find them.”
“Which boats?” Tom asked.
“Negocio Arriesgado and Finally Friday,” Sophia said. “I don’t know either of the skippers. Rainey and McCarthy. Both civilians.”
“Should we just call it the Risky Business?” Tom asked.
“Probably,” Sophia said. “I’ll get up with them when we get back to the boat.”
CHAPTER 31
Once upon a night we’ll wake to the carnival of life
The beauty of this ride ahead such an incredible height
It’s hard to light a candle, easy to curse the dark instead
This moment the dawn of humanity
Last ride of the day
Nightwish
“Last Ride of the Day”
“Well, I can guess what people are going to call this Division,” Lillie Rainey of the Negocio Arriesgado said, taking a sushi roll from the tray. The skipper was above average height for most women, although shorter than Sophia’s towering sister, “well endowed” with fiery red hair that must be natural. The one real oddity was a tattoo planted squarely in her cleavage. So squarely most of it was invisible. All that was really visible were two wings. Sophia was mildly curious what the whole tattoo looked like but not so much as to ask her to, ahem, “spread.”
LeEllen McCartney of the Finally Friday was slightly shorter than Rainey, still taller than their “boss” with dark black hair shot with gray, dark hazel eyes and a figure that hinted she’d been at the least athletic before the Fall and possibly a female weight lifter.
Both were pregnant.
“The Pussy Patrol?” Olga said. “The Pregnancy Patrol? The Bun Brigade?”
“Ease, SA,” Sophia said. “Olga is my clearance specialist. And nearly entirely incorrigible.”
“Then we’ll get along,” Rainey said, grinning. “Trade?”
“Not on your life,” Sophia said. “She’s one of the few people I trust around me with guns.”
“Seriously, trade?” Rainey said. “I’ve got a security guy but I’m not sure I’d trust him to fight his way out of a paper bag. Don Knotts seemed more competent.”
“Which brings me to a point I need to make,” Sophia said. “Few points. The first is security of the boat. The security people are, technically, along for light clearance. Light means up to about a hundred foot yacht. If it’s a ship or a megayacht, that’s heavy clearance. Let Marines handle it.
“They’re also along for boat security. Most rescuees are grateful to be off whatever you’ve rescued them from and just want to get their feet back on dry land or even a larger boat. Some food, a bunk, shelter from the elements, they’re golden at least for a few days. You’ve both been there I take it?”
“I was on the Voyage,” Rainey said, patting her tummy. “What happens in the compartment stayed in the compartment. Except for my little bun. Just say I was quite thrilled when your father came along.”
“Same here,” LeEllen said. “I take it that’s not always the case.”
“Besides certain oligarchs that tried to jack my boat, I’ve dealt with, well, a lot of people,” Sophia said. “Most of them are great. Some of them aren’t. What happens in the compartment, stays in the compartment. Or should. Some of them think that they can keep acting like they did on the lifeboat. Sometimes they were ‘somebody’ before the Plague and try to order you around. Sometimes they can’t handle women as authority figures. That’s particularly the case with non-Western cultures but you’ve got idiots in all societies.”
“Amen,” Rainey said.
“Step on it,” Sophia said. “Hard. You’re the skipper, do not accept anyone’s shit. Not even an ounce. If you have the vaguest thought that there’s a real threat, go armed. Hell, go armed most of the time when you’ve got passengers. Keep weapons locked down or on your persons, with a lanyard or combat harness, at all times. Do not assume that the meek are not an issue. I’ve had people who were the ‘quiet’ one on a lifeboat go off. If the person cannot figure out that they’re ba
ck in civilization, even if the ‘civilization’ is a boat, lock them up, chain them down, tie them up, and call for pick-up. You can be as high-handed as you’d like short of shooting them. And you can shoot them if they become a real threat to your boat or try to grab a weapon. But do not let anyone subvert, undermine or, especially, overrule your authority. Is that understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” LeEllen said, a touch oddly.
“Got it,” Lillie said. “I’m all for going armed.”
“Skipper McCartney?” Sophia said. “Question?”
“No,” McCartney said, quickly then shrugged and sighed. “I didn’t have a question I was just… You’re… Some people think you’re an Ensign cause you’re your father’s daughter… ”
“Most I’d guess,” Sophia said.
“I’d heard from some people who worked with you, even before I got transferred to your Division, not to think of you as some regular teenager,” McCartney said, biting her lip. “Sorry. My daughter was not much younger than you… ”
“I’m sorry for your loss never covers it,” Sophia said, wincing. “We were lucky. Some of it was planning but a lot of it was luck.”
“My point was,” LeEllen said. “I couldn’t help thinking ‘Oh, God, teenage girl.’ I’m… sorry for that thought. It was not deserved.”
“It is, sometimes,” Sophia said, shrugging. “I’ve been doing this a while, though. Most of it is rote. The running a division thing will be a new experience. Which gets us to a few more points. Security… ” she looked at her notes. “Ah, we’re going to be back of beyond and we’re looking at a month’s float. Satellite imagery indicates some boats out there but we never know what we’re going to find. Watch your consumables. Fuel especially. The Pit Stop is going to be an oceangoing, well, Pit Stop for emergencies. It will be extremely embarrassing if the emergency is ‘Uh, I’m out of gas.’ I like you both and you seem like great people. Run out of gas twice without good reason and I’ll get you replaced in a heartbeat. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” McCartney said.
“Absolutely agree,” Rainey said.
“Food, water, fuel and a running engine,” Sophia said. “The Holy Quaternary of boating. But first and foremost are fuel and a running engine. All the rest you can fix easily if you can get from Point A to Point B. On the running engine… we’re just going to have to take our chances. We don’t have geniuses for engineers in general and we don’t have a real supply line for parts. If you find a boat that has parts, strip them. In fact, strip every boat that has anything like supplies. Food, clothing, booze, toilet paper… ”
“I’m sort of a packrat on things like that,” Rainey admitted, reluctantly. “I usually grab the sheets and towels.”
“Good,” Sophia said. “Do that. Even if we’re going to use the boat, strip it. If we use a boat, it generally will need to be refueled. That’s one point where you can run out. If it runs but is out of fuel and you’re below a half a tank, put a beacon on it and leave it. If it’s got gas but putting enough in it will drop you past a half a tank, ditto. Hopefully we’ll find a freighter with diesel or something.
“When, if, we get rotated back to the main wing support ships for crew rest, we’re going to have to offload, and I quote, all our damned stores. Lieutenant Commander Isham was insistent on that.”
“All?” Rainey asked. “Including my cabernet collection?”
“That’s the point,” Sophia said. “You and each crew member can, by my orders, stash about a foot locker’s worth. But, yeah, that’s it. The ships need the supplies so we’re going to have to give up more than we’re used to. Which is why, yep, strip any boat, any freighter, anything we find. By the same token, it is possible to overload these boats. If you’re to the point of overload on supplies, unlikely, I’ll send you back to the Grace or the Shivak to unload. And, yes, Lillie, you have to give up the supplies.”
“Damn,” Rainey said.
“Think of it as charity,” LeEllen said.
“Or think of it as duty,” Sophia said. “Part of our job is being the gatherers for this little flock.”
“Wow,” Rainey said. “We’re back to the most traditional gender roles possible.”
“What?” LeEllen said.
“Hunter gatherer society?” Rainey said. “Men hunted, women gathered?”
“Men killed, women gathered,” Sophia corrected. “Men brought in less than ten percent of goods to the tribe in really traditional hunter-gatherer societies. With the exception of special conditions like sub-arctic zones and plains where large ungulate hunting was a mainstay, men really didn’t contribute much in the way of game. What they were hunting was men and women from other tribes. Men to kill, women to steal. Sorry, did a paper on it in school. My teacher really hated it but I still got an A cause it was so well researched.”
“Oh,” Lillie said.
“Yeah, not just a pretty face,” Sophia said. “I’ve been teaching myself calculus when I’ve got the time. I find it soothing. Never mind. Last points, usual stuff. Fire in a boat: bad. When you strip boats, even if you’re not grabbing much, grab fire extinguishers. I’m going to scream and holler to hold on to as many as is feasible. The big industrial ones are the bomb. We really should give them up for the ships but I want at least two in every boat if we can swing it. Salt Water goes outside the boat. Keep an eye on your bilge pumps. If you’re pumping a lot, you’ve got a problem. There are ways to fix it but that’s advanced seamanship. Call your Division Commander if you’ve got a leak or anything similar. Ditto a fire onboard, even if you get it put out. Any emergencies, day or night, call me. Sometimes I know the answer, sometimes I don’t, but I still need to know. Even if you’re embarrassed by it. Understood?”
“Understood,” LeEllen said.
“Roger,” Lillie said.
“Tomorrow morning we have this stupid group photo op,” Sophia said, shrugging. “We’ve sort of done them before but not since we’ve been a real ‘Squadron.’ It is going to be, I assure you, a madhouse. Just don’t ding your boats and don’t let anybody else ding your boats. Then we’re out and away. If you can’t start your boat tomorrow morning, I like you and you seem like great people, but… Make sure your boat is good.”
“Got it,” Lillie said.
“Any questions?” Sophia asked.
“Nope,” Lillie said.
LeEllen just shook her head.
“Be up early,” Sophia said. “We’re going to be jockeying around all morning. Be prepared for a lot of hurry up and wait… ”
* * *
“Skipper McCartney,” Sophia said as the meeting broke up. “Moment of your time?”
“Of course, Ensign,” LeEllen said.
Sophia waited until the saloon cleared, with a significant glance at Olga saying “be elsewhere.”
“Or should I say ‘Colonel McCartney?’ ” Sophia asked.
“Please don’t,” LeEllen said with a grimace.
“Most people are automatically reactivated,” Sophia said, sitting down. “I sort of need… clarification?”
“I’m one of your skippers, Ensign,” McCartney said. “No more, no less.”
“But you were a colonel?” Sophia said.
“US Air Force Academy, twenty-four years as an Air Force officer,” LeEllen said. “Retired as a colonel. Same rank as your Father holds now.”
“Sooo… ” Sophia said. “We need skippers, don’t get me wrong. But I’d say Da needs staff officers more.”
“There’s an issue,” McCartney said, shrugging.
“You got courtmartialed?” Sophia asked.
“No,” LeEllen said, snorting. “Got a couple of people out of them.” She looked at Sophia and shrugged. “I guess you really do need some background. I was an SJA Colonel. I retired as the OIC of the MDW SJA office. Not the national, SJA, just the SJA for MDW.”
“Just the fact that you know all those acronyms points out that you might be useful to the cause somewhere other than driving
a boat,” Sophia said. “That’s a backhand way of saying I have no clue what you just said.”
“I was a military defense lawyer,” LeEllen said, smiling. “Like a public defender, but for military personnel facing charges.”
“Okay,” Sophia said. “And the rest?”
“I was in charge of the Washington, DC office,” LeEllen said. “That’s where I retired from. Took up boating and then… ”
“Zombie apocalypse,” Sophia said. “Better than being in DC. So why not come back as a colonel?”
“Don’t get me wrong when I say this,” LeEllen said, frowning. “I support what we’re doing here. I even support how we’re doing it. That does not make anything that we’re doing actually legal.”
“It’s not?” Sophia said, grimacing. “I thought we had… what’s that term?”
“Controlling legal authority?” LeEllen said, chortling. “It’s not. Not really. Not fully and legally. That’s the point. I know what ‘controlling legal authority’ and the difference between ‘Laws of Land Warfare’ and regulations are. And I know what the US military is legally allowed to do and what it is not allowed to do.”
“Like… what?” Sophia asked.
“It might, possibly, be legal to slaughter civilian persons some of whom are and some of whom are not American citizens without due process,” LeEllen said. “If we had a clear Congressional Mandate of such. Possibly. But what we are effectively engaging in every time we kill an infected is genocide.”
“So what in the hell are we supposed to do?” Sophia asked, a touch angrily.
“Exactly what we’re doing,” LeEllen said. “I agree with the plan, I agree with the program. But it’s not, technically, legal. No matter if the NCCC says it’s ‘okay.’ That’s why I said ‘Oh, hell, no, I’m not taking back a commission.’ It probably doesn’t matter but my legal side has been screaming every time I see half the stuff we’re doing. Seizing vessels willy-nilly. Clearing foreign towns without clearance from the legal government. No Rules of Engagement at all. Again, it’s a zombie apocalypse. You do what has to be done. But the hell if I’m going to do it as a commissioned officer. Not with my understanding of the issues. For you, probably doesn’t matter. Above your paygrade. But if I came back as a colonel, with my background and expertise, I’d be obligated to object and basically be a pain in the ass. Obligated. Required. And we really don’t need that. So I said ‘Bring me back as a civilian and I can ignore it.’ ”
