To Sail a Darkling Sea btr-2

by John Ringo

“So we come around a corner and there’s, like, this wall of zombies,” Sophia said. “I’m in the lead in a little Toyota RAV4 with Rusty out the sunroof with the Singer and all I can think is ‘roll up the windows!’ For some reason, ‘open fire’ doesn’t even cross my mind. So, that’s what I say. ‘Roll up the windows! Back up!’ And I’m on the radio, ‘Roll up your windows, back up!’ And all of a sudden it occurs to me that there’s a guy with a machine gun stuck out of the sunroof for a reason… ”

  “And they say you’re the smart one,” Faith said, shaking her head.

  “Didn’t he open fire, ma’am?” Januscheitis asked.

  “No rank in the spa,” Faith said. “Jan owes a quarter. Unless it’s one of the ones with a bazillion screaming zeds. Then rank is fine.”

  “No he didn’t open fire, Jan,” Sophia said. “Because the Sergeant Major had been putting the fear of God into everyone. And, besides, it’s Rusty. He’s not the sharpest Halligan tool in the shed. So I kind of go, ‘Uh, Rusty?’ ‘Yes, ma’am?’ ‘You can open fire.’ ‘Oh, thanks!’ And it wasn’t even a real wall. About twenty. Rusty pretty much took care of it. I’ll leave the ground combat stuff to you Marines.”

  “I was sorry to hear about Specialist Mcgarity, Miss,” Januscheitis said. “He was a good man.”

  “He was,” Sophia said, taking a sip of wine. “For God’s sake, watch your step boarding.”

  “Heh,” Faith said. “Watch your step in the bilges. I still think Pag pushed him.”

  “Oh?” Sophia said. She really was tired of discussing her sole casualty. She missed Anarchy which was as much a reason not to talk about it as any.

  “The bilges on these things are massive,” Lieutenant Volpe said. “I don’t think they used to be filled with sewage but they are now. And oil and occasionally zeds. So Corporal Derek Douglas has decided he is on a one man crusade to eliminate the word ‘zombie’ from the vocabulary. This is not a zombie apocalypse. These are not zombies. They are not the living dead and do not particularly eat brains.”

  “The Gunny told him if he rolled his eyes one more time behind his back he was going to scoop them out and feed them to him,” Januscheitis said. “That was right after the Gunny had used the z word.”

  “So there was a little ‘incident’ in the bilges,” Faith said, grinning. “They’d just popped a deck hatch to check a portion of them and Derek… slipped. Or, possibly, was pushed.”

  “He wasn’t injured,” Januscheitis said. “He was just covered in oil and crap-filled water. Which since he was in the water got in under his gear. And it still stinks.”

  “Which has got him to shut up about the zombie thing,” Faith said. “Thank God.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait to get back to cruising,” Sophia said, leaning back in the water. “Looking for survivors, do a little fishing, clear some small boats, auto-pilot and just go!”

  “Meanwhile, we’re going to be training on boarding from zodiacs,” Faith said. “Which we’ll apparently be taking all over hell and gone. While you’re catching a suntan on your flying bridge.”

  “You can catch a suntan on your zodiac,” Sophia said. “Of course, you’ll be being beat to hell while you do. Have fun.”

  “I hate you,” Faith said. “I really do.”

  CHAPTER 30

  A soldier will fight long and hard for a bit of colored ribbon.

  Napoleon Bonaparte

  “From what PO Paxton says about you, you should be the captain,” Sophia said, yawning and looking at the print-out from the new guy’s “nautical training course.” “Scored a ninety-eight on the written? That’s better than most of our pro captains. Better than I did.”

  It was ten AM but she’d had a late night partying with the Marines. Even Faith had finally gotten into the act. Which sort of pissed Sophia off since Faith was a way better dancer. And she could drink better than Sophia, who had been practicing for God’s sake.

  The new crewman was both fairly good looking for an older guy and oddly… unnoticeable. He should have been sunburned after going from a compartment to the nautical course but instead was just starting to brown. Eyes so blue they were nearly black, grey-shot black hair and she could look him in the eye standing up which meant he was short as hell for a guy. There was something about him she couldn’t put a finger on. She’d been raised to be a paranoid and compared to most of her generation she was. But in this case what should have triggered paranoia, “something odd,” was instead triggering a feeling of… relief? She had the oddest feeling that the man, unnoticeable though he might be, was going to be a real asset.

  * * *

  “I’m a quick study, ma’am,” Walker said. He was trying not to laugh at the situation.

  “The only question I’ve got is can you take orders from a fifteen-year-old?” the girl said, looking up finally. “According to this, you’ve also got some civilian shooting experience and you’re a vet. Which is great. But I’ve been fighting this damned war since the last sign of civilization fell. So can you, will you, do what you’re told when a fifteen-year-old girl tells you to do it?”

  “There was a saying in the Army, ma’am,” Walker said. “Respect the rank, not the person. But you have been doing this job the whole time and you’re still alive and sane. So I respect both. And I’ve taken orders from people younger than myself. Yes, I’ll follow your orders, ma’am.”

  “Sorry,” The Lieutenant said, shrugging. “We got a guy came down with the prize crews and he did not have that attitude. Which was why I pitched him off my boat as soon as we got back. There can only be one captain on a boat. And they took most of my crew down in Gulmar. They’d been with me for months. Paula and Patrick went back to when Dad kicked me off the Tina’s Toy to take over a boat. I’m not handling the transition very well. But… Welcome aboard the Bella Senorita.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Thomas said. He really was trying not to chuckle that he was now working for one of the youngest officers in the DoD. One of the youngest in history if his recollection was correct.

  “If I may ask a question, ma’am?”

  “We don’t usually stand on that much ceremony, Walker,” The Lieutenant said. “But go.”

  “Aren’t you one of the youngest officers in Navy history?”

  “There was a fourteen-year-old probationary third in the War of Eighteen Twelve,” the skipper said. “But my sister has him beat. There hasn’t been one younger than sixteen since. That young was more of a British Navy thing. They had a twelve-year-old Lieutenant put in charge of a prize crew during the Napoleonic Wars from what one of the Limeys told me. That kid had to be peeing his short pants. But, yes, my sister and I are sort of throw-backs. Da points out that this is also the smallest and most desperate the Navy’s been since the War of Eighteen Twelve.”

  “A valid point,” Walker said. “But historically interesting.”

  “We are living history,” The Lieutenant said, shrugging. “Each and every one of us. The founding fathers and mothers of a new nation. Which Da points out at every opportunity. Usually adding ‘conceived in liberty’ although we’re pretty much all stuck in conditions of tyranny. The next step is meet the rest of the crew. We also have a new quote engineer coming aboard. We’ll see how that works out. And Olga is staying aboard, thank God. That much I insisted on.”

  “Olga?” Walker asked.

  “Seaman Apprentice, just promoted, Olga Zelenova,” the skipper said. “She’s from Chicago, sort of. Ukrainian by birth but grew up in the States. She… can take some getting used to. Guys usually sort of drop their jaws and follow her around with their tongues out. But she’s actually pretty good at clearance. I got her the promotion cause she was one of the few people I could trust at my back. And she can drive the boat well enough to stand watch and she doesn’t mind doing the chores. Now if I could just get us a real cook.”

  “I’m an okay cook, ma’am,” Walker said.

  “I’m not bad,” The Lieutenant said. “Neither is Olga. But I’d
like more or less a full time cook. We’re going to be doing pretty much continuous operations and I’d rather have someone handling the galley who has just that job. It’s not what they’re saying we need. I don’t think they’re right. So I’m going to grab a bottle of hooch and go wheedle HR. Olga!”

  “Mon Capitan?” Olga said, popping her head up from below. “I wasn’t eavesdropping. Much.”

  The girl was wearing bikini top and shorts. Tom successfully managed not to leer. It was tough, but he managed. The knife scars were rather surprising though, especially given that they were too old to have happened due to the apocalypse.

  “This is Tom Walker,” The Lieutenant said. “Show him around the boat. I’m going to go see if I can scrounge up a cook.”

  “Will do,” Olga said. “Hello, Tom, welcome to the Bella Senorita.”

  “Between the captain and the clearance specialist, the boat is well named,” Tom said. “Before we take the cook’s tour: Ma’am, I met your father the other night.”

  “Was Da his normal charming self?” the skipper asked.

  “He was,” Walker said. “However, it was an interesting subject. Why sometimes doing things… off the books was better than officially.”

  “Basis of Da’s master’s thesis,” the Lieutenant said. “Your point?”

  “The compartment I was in included two Indonesian waitresses,” Walker said. “One of them, Batari, was also a cook. She’s currently doing forensic cleaning. But I’m sure I could persuade her to join us. Several issues: She hasn’t been through the nautical course. The answer to that is she practically grew up in a galley. Her father had a fishing boat in Indonesia. Issue: She’s pregnant.”

  “By you?” the skipper asked.

  “I believe the phrase is, ‘what happens in the compartment stays in the compartment,’ ” Walker said. “There were four other males in the compartment. The best I can say is possibly, I’d lean so far as ‘probably,’ and there was no rape involved.”

  “Lucky her,” Olga said.

  “So what are you saying?” the Lieutenant said. “Go steal her?”

  “I understand boat crews get to scrounge more or less at will,” Walker said. “I think she’d prefer that to working for chits on one of the ships. Who is going to say I can’t bring her over to the boat? I doubt anyone’s going to miss one Indonesian cook.”

  “How pregnant?” Olga asked.

  “About six months,” Walker said.

  “Fast work,” The Lieutenant said. “That sounds a bit like rape.”

  “There wasn’t much to do in the compartment, ma’am,” Walker said. “You can ask her if you’d like. She speaks a bit of English. And I know where to find her this evening. That way you don’t have to waste your time wheedling HR.”

  “I didn’t really have time for it anyway,” The Lieutenant said. “We’re getting Flotilla assignments this afternoon and having a meeting on the crossing. Okay, if you think you can scrounge a cook this evening, great. I’m all for it. And if she’s anything like Sari, Da’s cook, all the better.”

  “So do I still get to show him around the boat?” Olga asked. “He’s cute. And he’s small. I bet he can fit in all sorts of spaces in the engine room.”

  “She’s mostly a flirt,” The Lieutenant said. “Mostly.”

  “After you, Miss Seaman,” Walker said, gesturing for her to precede him. “That way I can watch your butt while ignoring what you’re saying.”

  “I zeenk I zee the beginning of zee beautiful relationship,” Olga said.

  “Vos yeux sont de la couleur de la mer du Nord,” Walker replied.

  “Oooo,” Olga said. “It speaks French.”

  “It also speaks Ukrainian so I can know what you’re saying about me in your sleep,” Walker said.

  “No hanky panky til I see if the new engineer is a prick,” The Lieutenant said.

  * * *

  The new engineer was a Filipino female.

  “Celementina Rosamaria Starshine Sagman,” the girl said, shaking Sophia’s hand. “At your service, ma’am.”

  “You’re a mechanic?” Sophia asked. She didn’t look like a mechanic. She looked like a China doll and younger than Sophia. Her documents said twenty but the Lieutenant was having a hard time believing them. And she was, unsurprisingly, pregnant. So much for that being an issue.

  “My father was a mechanic, si,” Sagman said. “I grew up in the shop. I was a maid on the Festival. But I am a good mechanic.”

  “Scores are high,” Sophia said. She was starting to wonder if Da was pulling strings in that regard. Walker’s scores had been through the roof. “Is that going to be an issue?” she asked, gesturing awkwardly at the young woman’s round belly.

  “I will perform my duties, ma’am,” Celementina said. “I have been working with it already. This is not… ” She shrugged. “I am Filipino, ma’am. We don’t have the same attitude about it that some women have.”

  “American?” Sophia said. “Or Western in general?”

  “I was not meaning to be offensive, ma’am,” Celementina said.

  “I get your point,” Sophia said. “In the US we’d say ‘suck it up and drive on.’ I guess Filipino women just… do. Okay. ROWPU is running slow. See if you can get it figured out. I’ve asked for a replacement but there aren’t any with the same capacity. At least that they’re willing to give up. It’s probably the filters but that’s just a guess. And we don’t have any spare ROWPU filters. So… try to figure it out. Once we start at-sea clearance, if there is any at-sea clearance, we might be able to find a new one or some filters. But for now, we need this one working. Tanking water is a pain.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the mechanic said. “Are there tools?”

  “Pat should have left most of his,” Sophia said. “And, again, if not wheedle, beg or borrow. We could maybe go raid one of the liners. That’s how we roll.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Celementina said. “I am used to this.”

  “And I’m off to a meeting,” Sophia said. “Walker!”

  “In the engine room, ma’am,” Walker yelled.

  “Grab the inflatable,” Sophia yelled. “You’re running me over to the Bo.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Walker said.

  * * *

  “Ma’am,” the mate said on the way over to the liner. The inflatable was a 25' Brig Eagle center console. It had the name ‘Anarchy’ written on the side in flowing script. “Since I’m here, mind if I go try to find Batari?”

  “The cook?” Sophia said. “No time like the present. We could definitely use a full-time cook.”

  “I shall endeavor to provide, ma’am,” Walker said. “When should I pick you up?”

  “They’ll radio the boat,” Sophia said. “Should be at least two hours. Probably more. You’ll know when all the other boats start flocking around.”

  The floating dock of the Boadicea was crowded with boats. It took some time to get the Lieutenant to the dock.

  “Be available in two hours, max,” Sophia said.

  “Roger, ma’am,” Walker replied. “I’ll wait for some of this to clear down to board.”

  “See you in a few,” Sophia said.

  * * *

  The meeting was in the theater and there was a seating chart. The Flotilla and division commanders were down front and the boat captains were to the rear, port, organized by boat names, alphabetically. The Marine contingent was starboard along with engineering and support. She found her seat and chuckled. Each of the seats had a yellow pad, clipboard and a pen on them. Just in case the attendees forgot they’d need to take notes.

  She sat down and looked at the skipper next to her. He was an older guy she didn’t know. There were getting to be more and more people she didn’t know which was encouraging.

  “Lieutenant Sophia Smith,” she said, offering her hand. “Bella Senorita.”

  “James Dave Back,” the captain said, shaking her hand. “Bare Naked.”

  “I hope that’s the name of your
boat and not a Freudian slip,” Sophia said, chuckling.

  “I was told it had become tradition not to rename your boat,” Back said. “So, yes, boat name.”

  “That’s probably my fault,” Sophia said. “At least in part. I used that as an excuse to keep the name ‘No Tan Lines’ on my second boat.”

  “Second?” Back said.

  “I’m on my third,” Sophia said. “The first was a thirty-five and they retired it. Then I had a mechanical out-and-away on the lines and there was this sweet ninety-footer just aching for a new crew… ”

  “Wait,” Back said. “Smith? Seawolf Smith?”

  “Don’t let my sister’s stories fool you,” Sophia said. “She liiies.”

  “Quiet down,” Isham said. “Time to get this started… ” He paused as the murmur of conversation continued.

  “AT EASE!” Gunny Sands boomed.

  “Thank you, Gunnery Sergeant,” Isham said. “Welcome to the first full captain’s meeting of the Wolf Squadron, my name, in case you don’t know me, is Lieutenant Commander Jack Isham. I’m the Squadron Chief of Staff. A small smattering of applause is welcome since I got promoted this morning.”

  “Oh, he’s going to be insufferable for the next couple of weeks,” Sophia said, clapping politely.

  “Know him?” Back asked.

  “Loathe him,” Sophia said, smiling. “Capable. Real ass.”

  “There are a series of promotions to announce before we begin since they affect the management of the upcoming crossing,” Isham said. “Hold your applause on these, we have to get through this meeting as quickly as possible. Chen, Zachary, Lieutenant Commander, USNR. That’s a permanent position, Zack, approved by the NCCC. Not frocked as the Navy says. Garman, Charles, Lieutenant Commander, USNR. Kuzma, Robert, Lieutenant Commander, USCG. Volpe, Michael, Captain, USMC. Paris, Elizabeth, Lieutenant, USNR… ”

  Sophia knew all of them and wanted to applaud every one. She found herself trying not to cry.

  “You okay?” Back asked.

  “These are all great people,” Sophia said, sniffling. “Just… great people. I’m so happy for the… ”