“You want to blow up my engines?” asked Paul with a desperate tone in his voice.
“They’re my engines,” replied Scott with a voice of steel. “And I don’t want to blow them up. But I will, if that is what it takes to keep possession of this ship. My ship. Understand?”
“Yes sir,” Paul answered. “But do we have to do it for real? Can’t we try to fake them out first?”
“What do you have in mind?” asked Scott. He prided himself on always being open to others’ ideas. “Is there something critical you could blow up and easily replace later?”
“Yes, sir, I think there is,” replied Mr. Lunt. “The transmission gears. The ones for the port and starboard engines aren’t even made anymore except by special order. We replaced them at great expense last year, if you recall. But I saved the old gears as emergency spares because they still had a little life in them. So I can reinstall the old ones and hide the new ones. Then we could destroy the old ones without damage to the actual engines, if we have to.”
“Brilliant!” said Captain Fisher. He glanced at Scott, who nodded, and confirmed his initial reaction. “Do it.”
“What about the new engine?” Scott asked. “What can we do convince them it’s toast too?”
“Well,” replied Mr. Lunt, “We could blow the transmission on that one too, and I do have a spare. But they might have some in San Diego too. It’s brand new. Off the shelf in a major harbor with ship yards like San Diego. I’d recommend removing the computer controls and only destroying them if you have to. I have some spare components for that CPU, but only the factory in Taiwan could replace the whole rack. Without it, that engine is toast too.”
Scott and Captain Fisher exchanged glances again. That new engine was precious. A quarter million dollars worth of precious. Irreplaceable now. And it gave the Sovereign Spirit her best endurance cruise range. Using only the center engine, the ship could travel at 8 knots for close to 9,000 miles on a full tank. Without it, their best range was 6,000 miles using both of the other engines at 12 knots. Together the three engines gave a best range of about 7,000 miles at 15 knots. Maximum speed on the center engine alone was 12 knots for 6,000 miles. Max speed on all three engines was 22 knots for 4,500 miles. These calculations used to be economic. Now they may have become critical matters of survival. Either way, the center engine was the most critical.
“Can you make a dummy rack for the center engine CPU?” asked Scott. “One that we could blow up on video if we had to and would pass at least casual inspection by the Navy later? Then hide the real rack?”
“Sure, if I use some of the spare parts to make it look real,” said Paul Lunt. “How much time do I have?”
“About eight hours,” said the captain. “We’re going to join up with the Coast Guard cutter before we aim for San Diego and until then we will shut down the port and starboard engines, so you can replace the transmissions. We’ll run on the center engine until you finish replacing the other transmissions, then switch over to them to give you time to play with the center engine’s computer rack. We’ll be making about 10 knots the whole way and we don’t want to arrive until daylight anyway. Then I think we’ll have to find some reason to remain outside the harbor. Then we bargain. Then we bluff. Then we see if we have to follow through. Does that sound about right, Commodore?”
Scott was startled when Captain Fisher called him that, but realized that Jordan would need to start thinking that way. If he was going to be able to justify deceiving and possibly defying the Navy he had served for so many years, Captain Fisher needed to consider Scott his commander – his Commodore.
“Yes, captain,” replied Commodore Scott Allen. “Make it so.”
*****
As they steamed ever closer to United States border, Scott went back up to his own master suite on the Sky Deck to spend some time with his wife and see what type of news was still available on the satellite TV. Michelle was busy painting a seascape in her well lit and fully equipped art studio. Her gifted artwork was an outlet that had kept her from fixating upon the horrors that were engulfing the world beyond their secure domain aboard the luxurious ship.
“How you doing, honey?” asked Scott as he entered the studio. “That looks beautiful,” he continued, referring to the vivid colors of a sunset above a breaking wave that flowed gracefully across the canvas with apparent ease. She was a natural artist, whereas Scott could barely doodle, and her paintings had recently been selling for tens of thousands of dollars in prestigious art galleries.
“I’m okay,” replied Michelle. “How about you? I heard about the Coast Guard. Will they let us pass?”
“I’m still not sure, baby.” Scott replied honestly. “They say we can go to San Diego, but I’m a bit worried that they won’t let us leave. They might even try to take the ship away from us.”
“What? They wouldn’t dare! Would they?” Michelle asked appalled.
“Well, they might,” Scott admitted. “But I’m working on a few schemes to prevent it. Right now I want to check the news. We should be close enough to receive any local TV or radio broadcasts still coming out of San Diego now. I need to get a handle on what we are sailing into. Want to take a break and join me?”
“Sure,” Michelle said as she carefully laid down her brush and pallet. “This needs to dry before I add another layer of color to the clouds anyway. How’s everyone else holding up?”
“Billy and his friends are still focused on getting information from the internet and contacting more survivors. I’ve asked them to start looking for news from San Diego online too. A lot of the other people are watching the news on GNN down in the aft lounge. Some are drinking a bit more than they should, but I can’t blame them. Your brother has been spending a lot of time in the bowling alley. He’s organized a crew to put up some thick wood and drywall barriers backed by steel plate above the pins. I’m going to turn the bowling alley into a firing range, so everyone can get some practice shooting guns before we face any zombies.”
“That’s a good idea,” Michelle agreed. “I want to learn how to shoot too.”
“Absolutely, honey,” Scott confirmed as they walked into their bedroom and he reached for the TV remote control. “Everyone needs to know how to defend themselves now, but I don’t want you or the kids going ashore any time soon.” He turned on the TV and flicked through the input options until he found digital broadcast. Most of the channels were off the air, or showing only a test pattern, but then he came across one that was still live.
“…last reported locations of protected shelters are outdated. There has been no contact with any shelter south of Balboa Park since yesterday. The 40th street Navy base has been evacuated. All of the active ships have left the docks and appear to be anchored out in the bay, or docked at Coronado. Survivors trying to reach those ships on small boats have reportedly been fired upon. We have confirmed that the Navy is not accepting any more civilian refugees aboard their vessels.
“The Marine Corps Recruit Depot has also been evacuated. The Navy and Marines have consolidated their lines on Point Loma and Coronado Island. The Coronado Bridge is closed and fortified. The east half of the bridge is flooded with zombies and the bodies of former zombies. Marines and Navy SEALS are holding the center of the bridge with constant gunfire and there is discussion of blowing up the center span to permanently secure the island. Do not attempt to cross the bridge. It is impossible.
“Numerous water-taxis and harbor cruise boats that have been commandeered by the Navy are still ferrying survivors across the bay to Coronado from secure docks on Shelter Island, Harbor Island and Seaport Village. The Hotel Del Coronado is the largest active shelter in the San Diego area, but it is overflowing with refugees and new arrivals are being placed into tents provided by the Navy.
“Navy SEALS and military police continue their house-to-house search throughout Coronado to exterminate any infected persons on the island. The Marines are concentrating on fortifying their lines across the Silver Str
and, preventing the infected from entering Coronado from the south. Heavy equipment is working behind their fighting lines to construct a permanent defensive wall and a water-filled channel between the ocean and the bay. As noted previously, zombies are afraid of bodies of water and do not swim. The new moat should hold back the press of infected coming from the South Bay and Imperial Beach, as well as those reported to be coming up from Mexico.
“Downtown San Diego is a no-man’s-land. There are uncontrolled fires burning in the Gas Lamp District. The City College shelter was overrun last night, as was most of Balboa Park, although several thousand refugees have taken shelter in the San Diego Zoo. Military and civilian first responders have evacuated the downtown area. Thousands of residents in apartments, condos, hotels and office buildings are essentially trapped. The streets are full of rampaging zombies. Lindbergh Field airport is closed and unsecured. Stay away from Downtown San Diego.
“All bridges to Harbor Island and Shelter Island were destroyed by the military before they withdrew. Conditions are slightly better there than Downtown, with groups of survivors defending hotels and marinas from moderate levels of zombie attacks. There has been little word of conditions in the Mission Bay area since yesterday, but it is believed that Fiesta Island and Sea World are still secure evacuation centers. However, West Mission Bay and Sea World Drives are now jammed with abandoned vehicles and zombies are attacking anyone who approaches. So there is no way for additional refugees to reach those safe zones, except by boat on Mission Bay.
“Miramar Marine Corps Air Station has been abandoned. All operational aircraft were flown to the North Island Naval Air Station on Coronado. Inland suburbs are suffering various levels of zombie infestation. It remains unsafe to travel through communities anywhere in San Diego County. Wilderness areas are less dangerous, but not completely safe. Be aware of the threat at all times and avoid contact with anyone who may be infected.
“If you leave your home it is recommended that you go armed. If you stay at home it is recommended that you barricade your doors and windows. Remember that the only sure way to disable the infected is to destroy their brains. This is best accomplished by gun shots to the head, but can also be done with blunt force trauma, or sharp objects through the ears, eyes, or base of the neck.”
Scott had heard enough. He turned off the TV and noticed that tears were flowing down Michelle’s cheeks. He remembered that most of her cousins lived in the San Diego area and realized how hard this news would hit her.
“I’m sorry, Michelle,” Scott whispered as he gave her a hug and felt her tremble in his embrace. “Quite a few people are holding out. The military have established secure lines, even if they had to give up most of the city. A lot of survivors have made it over to Coronado. It’s quite possible that your cousins and their families are in a safe zone now, or got out of the city. And we will do whatever we can to find them.”
“Oh, shut up, Scott!” she blurted. “We won’t find them. And it sounds like the military isn’t taking in any more refugees. I think you are right to be worried about them taking this ship away from us too. Why wouldn’t they? We’re nothing to them when the whole world is falling apart around them.” She continued to sob for another minute while Scott held her and hardened his resolve to protect her and everyone aboard his ship from the ravages of this zombie war. He had to ensure that they were not forced to give up the ship and join the chaos in San Diego.
*****
The Sovereign Spirit and her little flotilla of tagalongs were still about twenty miles offshore when they met up with Coast Guard cutter Stratton at the international border with Mexico. It was a couple of hours before dawn, but the sky was lit by a false dawn from the flames that were consuming Tijuana on the eastern horizon. An unknown source had sparked it. Now it was consuming the bullfighting ring near the beach and all the buildings lined up against the border fence. Luckily, the clear zone on the U.S. side would act as a fire break and the wind was mostly calm now. The border fence, reinforced by a line of closely spaced concrete columns, would also prevent a horde of “illegal” zombies from stampeding into San Diego. Not that they wouldn’t have been embraced by a welcoming committee of equally zombified locals, many of whom had shared the same ethnic background.
Scott was up on the bridge with Captain Fisher again, after taking a two hour nap. They were monitoring the preparations in the engine room via closed circuit TV as they watched the Coast Guard Cutter Stratton take station off their port bow. It was an impressive ship, almost as big as the Sovereign Spirit, and brand new too, commissioned only last month with all the modern bells and whistles. The new National Security Cutters were quasi war ships, armed with one 57mm Bofors automatic cannon to attack surface targets or aircraft, a 20mm Phalanx close-in-weapons-system for missile defense, several 50 caliber machine guns, and a full suite of electronic warfare gear and countermeasures. An armed MH-65D Dolphin helicopter was perched on the aft deck and another might be concealed in the double hanger.
The USCGC Stratton also carried two high speed patrol boats on an aft ramp deck, one of them a Short Range Prosecutor and the other one a Long Range Interceptor. They could be launched towards suspected smugglers, pirates, or terrorists while the ship was underway and carried their own machine guns and grenade launchers. Scott was certain that there were plenty of armed Coast Guardsmen to man them too.
“Sovereign Spirit, this is Captain McCloud on the Stratton,” was the radio call they were expecting. “Please prepare to change course and follow us to San Diego. What is the best speed you and your convoy can make?”
Scott and Captain Fisher exchanged glances before the captain replied, “Normally we could all make fifteen knots, but one of our engines is down for repairs and we would prefer not to arrive before dawn. We can make ten knots. Is that acceptable, Captain McCloud?”
“Affirmative, Sovereign Spirit, make it ten knots and prepare to take a course of zero three zero true. Over.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Captain Fisher, “Sovereign Spirit and convoy will comply.” They had not been able to communicate their plan to George and the rest of their ragtag flotilla. Scott actually thought it best that they were kept out of the information loop anyway. The people on those yachts could play their parts in his plan best if they simply reacted with natural indignity and thoughts of self preservation when – no, still if – the authorities chose to commandeer the Sovereign Spirit, or turn the other boats away.
“So,” said the captain, “What should we do now?”
“Well, we’re not going to sail right into San Diego Bay,” replied Scott. “I need to get more confirmation of their intentions. And I won’t get that here. Tell Mick to prep the chopper for a flight to San Diego. We might stop on the cutter first, but I need to meet the new head honchos before this ship enters that harbor. And we need to be able to provide a live video feed of those engines, in case I need to order you to execute phase one of Plan Phoenix. You okay with that, captain?”
“Yes, Commodore,” replied Fisher with a determined tone. “Just give the word. I’ll talk to the boys about setting up a live feed to the helicopter. I think we can relay it from there to your laptop, or I-pad, as long as you are within Wi-Fi range of the chopper.”
“We can also put a live feed online at the sovereignspirit.net website,” added Marty Larson, the communications technician. “We still have internet access, so the Navy must have it too, right? Even if major nodes and servers are falling off the net every hour, we have our own server here. Satellite bandwidth is limited and declining, but it should play video over the net even if it takes some buffering. So we can still provide a streaming video from the engine room cameras online, if you want us to.”
“Sounds good,” confirmed Scott. “But add a pass code to view it.”
“Aye aye, commodore,” said Captain Fisher with a smile. “Make it so, Marty.”
*****
Scott told Mick, Mark and Clint to get ready for another flight in the
helicopter after confirming that Sam had replaced the damaged hydraulic line. Then he got on the radio to set the stage for the next act in his passion play.
“Captain McCloud,” Scott said into the radio, ignoring normal call sign procedures. “This is Scott Allen again. Do you read me?” There was close to least a minute of dead air space after that transmission.
“Yes, Mr. Allen, this is Captain McCloud on the Stratton. What can I do for you now?” The tone of voice conveyed a note of impatience.
“Captain McCloud,” said Scott carefully. “I’m afraid I can’t order my ship and the boats following us to sail right into San Diego Bay without knowing what awaits us there. I have a serious responsibility to my passengers, my crew, and the people on the boats of this flotilla to ensure that I don’t take them into worse danger than they are already in. Since I have the capability to launch aerial reconnaissance, I have decided to do so. Over.”
Voyage of the Dead - Book One Sovereign Spirit Saga Page 17
