by John Ringo
“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. 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 unhappily. “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 av
oidance 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 tugs 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 as 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.
“You’re on a secure line, ma’am,” Sergeant Roosevelt said. Two American Marines were belaying the line attached to her harness. “Even if you miss the grab you’re going to be fine.”
“There is nothing fine about this, Sergeant,” Faith snapped. She wished she could close her eyes but there was no way she was fumbling in mid-air, on the edge of a catwalk, with nothing below here but . . . well, air.
She leaned out and snatched the rope. The combination of swells and the weight of the rope more or less dragged her off the catwalk and fortunately she got both hands around the rope as it did.
“AAAAAHHHHH!” she screamed as she slid down the slick rope.
“You were supposed to get your legs around it, too, ma’am,” Staff Sergeant Januscheitis said. “And you can let go, now. Ma’am? You can let go . . .”
Faith slowly unclenched her fingers from the rope.
“And that was a really lousy job, with no disrespect, ma’am,” Januscheitis said. “Back up and try it again, ma’am.”
“I don’t wanna be a Marine anymore,” Faith muttered, trotting to the ladder. “I don’t wanna be a Marine anymore . . .” But she kept it down.
* * *
“Wheeee!” Sophia squealed, sliding down the rope. She hit the ground with a spring in her step and bounced back up. “Can I do it again?”
“Go for it, ma’am,” Januscheitis said, grinning.
“That was fun!”
* * *
“Ooooraaaah!” Faith said all the way down.
“That, ma’am, was better, and admittedly it’s not the first time I’ve ever heard someone scream ‘Oorah’ in terror, ma’am,” Januscheitis said. “With no disrespect intended, ma’am, it was not exactly motivational. And, again, you need to get your legs around the rope, ma’am.”
* * *
“But you have to let up enough to slide down,” Roosevelt said. “Ma’am? You have to unclench, ma’am. . . .”
* * *
“I can and will do it,” Faith said, picking at her mashed potatoes. “I am a Marine officer. I will not let fear keep me from performing my duty. That does not mean I like it.”
“That’s sort of the definition of courage, ma’am,” Staff Sergeant Januscheitis said. “It’s not about being fearless, it’s about overcoming your fears, ma’am. But you’re going to need to get to the point you can do it without screaming the whole way down. It’s unsettling to the troops.”
“I’ll be all right on the night,” Faith said. “And we get to rescue a prince. That’s cool.”
She looked around the mess hall and then at the cups hanging from racks in the corner.
“Is it just me, or are we bouncing more . . . ?”
* * *
“What do you want to do, Colonel?” Gilbert asked.
The weather map was one giant red swirl off the coast of Carolina.
“We can weather it, Captain.” Colonel Hamilton asked. “Correct?”
“Oh, we can plow right through,” Gilbert said. “Wouldn’t want to be in a small boat but we can do it. Assuming I go out enough from the Outer Banks. Going to get a bit nautical, but we’ll be fine. You can’t train, though. No flying, none of the planned actual air-assault training. And there’s another one right behind that one. Basically, looks to me like we’re going to be hitting one squall after another from here to England except maybe mid-Atlantic and you don’t want to do your training in those conditions. And whatever the Marines may think about fast-roping off my bridge in a storm, I’m not going to allow it in this weather. It’s flat out unsafe. I could duck into the Chesapeake and take a few days there between squalls . . .”
“No,” Hamilton said, shaking his head. “We’re just going to have to go with what we’ve got. We don’t have time to turn aside. Plow on, Mr. Gilbert, plow on. But do, please, try to miss the Outer Banks. Grounding would be decidedly unpleasant to report.”
* * *
“This is why I loooove being a Marine,” Faith said as the ship nosed up and then crashed down again. She was looking fairly green.
“Bah,” Sophia said, taking another bite of eggs. “Big boat sailors! This is nothing! Why this one time off of Spain . . .”
“You’ve never been to Spain,” Faith said, glowering.
“Ma’am,�
� Sergeant Januscheitis said, grinning. “Don’t never get in the way of a good sea story, with due respect. Were there mermaids?”
“Let me tell you about mermaids, Staff Sergeant,” Sophia said in a gravelly voice, waving her coffee cup.
“We sure she’s not bucking for chief?” Derek asked.
“I think I just spent too much time around Chief Schmidt,” Sophia said, laughing. “You okay, Sister dear?”
“I hate you . . .”
CHAPTER 30
I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel:
“As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal”;
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,
His God is marching on.
(CHORUS)
—“The Battle Hymn of the Republic”
“HOLY FUCK!” Faith screamed as she stepped out of the hatch.
The storm that had kept them below-decks for two days had finally passed and she could step outside and breathe free air. Which was UNBELIEVABLY FUCKING COLD!
“AAAAAHHHH,” she said, thinking her breath would appear as smoke. But, no, it was simply wrenched away by the wind. Or, and this was a distinct possibility, instantly turned to ice. There was ice accumulating on the ammo containers.
“They did not cover this in the recruiting video,” she muttered.
She slammed the hatch shut and went below.
“Gunny,” she said, sticking her head in his compartment.
“Ma’am?” Gunny Sands replied.
“Tell me we remembered cold weather gear,” she said.
“None available, ma’am,” the gunny replied. “Not short of going back to the Iwo to find it and break it out. We’ve got wooly pully’s for most personnel including yourself. We’ll need to start acclimatization training as soon as possible. Other than that, ma’am, it’s exigencies of service.”
“Roger,” Faith said, closing the hatch. “This mission just keeps getting better and better. Five days ago we were sweating like a river on a volcano, now we’re going to turn into corpse-sicles.” She walked down the corridor and thought about that. “Heh, heh. Corps-sicles . . .”