John Ringo - To Sail a Darkling Sea

Sophia didn’t bother to look over her shoulder, she just watched their faces as the Alexandria came to the surface a kilometer out.

“So, yes, there is still a United States Navy and yes, I am a United States Naval officer and yes, you are in a heap of trouble. But we can work that out. So far it’s no harm, no foul. So you can put down your poxie little crap AK knockoffs and your dinky little RPG or I can sink you. I’ll even give you the choice of machine-gun fire, torpedo, Harpoon missile or Tomahawk. Your call, fucktard.”

* * *

Rusty had collected the AKs, dumped the RPG into the drink, left the water and come back to the boat. In the meantime, the Alex had contacted Flotilla. After that it was a matter of a nine-hour wait until Kuzma showed up in the Large along with the Midlife Crisis which was captained by another CG petty officer, the Pit Stop and a sailboat Sophia had never seen before called the Knotty Problem . Appropriate name. The Large had a machine-gun team on the “sundeck” forward. Sophia knew that while the two “security specialists” were both “into” guns-civilian shooters, that is-neither of them had ever handled a machine gun before the Plague. So she was really hoping it wouldn’t come to that.

“See why the skipper doesn’t do away teams?” Kuzma radioed when he was alongside.

“Yes, and in agreement, sir,” Sophia said. “On the other hand, wasn’t going to in this case. Knew there was something fishy. How are we going to handle this, sir?”

“Do we have some clue who are goats and who are sheep?” Kuzma asked.

“When the guns came out we took video,” Sophia said. “There were seven who were armed. We don’t know who they are, but we know what they look like.”

“Roger.”

“Russian vessel, this is Commander Vancel, skipper of the united States Navy Attack Submarine USS Alexandria . There were seven armed personnel who threatened to hijack a Us Navy vessel onboard your ship. Those persons will stand on the wash deck of the vessel. The sailboat Knotty Problem will be brought alongside along with two dinghies. We will toss you lines. Tie it up. Our crew will offload, taking one of the dinghies. Those seven will enter the sailboat. Anyone who wants to accompany the seven may leave with them as long as it is clearly of their own free will. Any evidence of coercion will be dealt with by lethal force.

“The sailboat has been resupplied and refueled. The engines, peripherals and all sailing equipment are in good running order. There is one, repeat, one pistol onboard for self defense or light clearance for the purposes of salvage. The seven individuals as well as any others who wish to accompany them will then sail away. As long as you are not further known to engage in hostilities, stay away from us, don’t pirate vessels, and don’t kill uninfected, we’ll let bygones be bygones. Come to our attention in a negative way and you will be dealt with. As I believe Lieutenant Smith pointed out, we have ‘go away’ and ‘death’ as our only current penalties. This is the ‘go away’ option. You have fifteen minutes to prepare.”

The heavyset man was on the back upper deck, by the entrance to the main saloon. He still had the hand-set Rusty had been carrying.

“Do you know who I am? I am Nazar Lavrenty! This is my yacht. You speak of piracy but you are stealing my yacht.”

“I didn’t know who you were until I contacted higher,” Vancel replied. “They, in turn, contacted the Russians they are in communication with. General Kazimov’s response was ебать твою мать.”

The man was waving his arms and shouting into the radio.

“KAZIMOV! KAZIMOV? HE IS NOT THE RUSSIAN GOVERNMENT!”

“Think that name touches a nerve?” Paula said, grinning.

“Sounds like it,” Sophia said.

“He is what is left,” Vancel radioed. “We might have tried to work with you and left you in some control of the vessel, which we need, had you not shown your inability to be trusted. This has been authorized by higher, and what remains of the Russian government. That is all there is to it. You have fifteen minutes or US Marines will perform a hostile boarding. If you survive that you shall be given a very brief trial, shot, and dumped over the side. The clock starts now.”

The sailboat was brought alongside. Some of the crew on the Money caught the tossed lines and secured it while the Wolf crew unassed into a dinghy and headed back to the Large .

In a bit more than fifteen minutes, “Lavrenty” came out with his henchmen and the same number of women.

“Coincidence?” Paula said. “I don’t think so.”

“Lavrenty, leave the women on the yacht. Board the sailboat with your personnel. Put the women on the radio, one by one, on the upper aft deck away from the sailboat with the radio. We have to have assurances they are not under duress. Do not attempt to exit the boat while we are getting those assurances. The machine-gun crew on the Large will take you under fire if you try to exit.”

“These are girlfriends. And they don’t speak English.”

“You’d be surprised how many translators survived ,” Vancel replied. “Pick a language. It was not a request.”

The following conversation was in foreign languages. Most of them, after a few gabbled words, dropped the, fortunately robust, radio and darted back into the interior of the yacht. Only two went with Lavrenty in the end.

“They’re going to be busy,” Paula said, drily. “Not that they weren’t already.”

Most of the women were visibly pregnant.

“What happens in the compartment,” Sophia said. “I sincerely doubt any of them were virgins before they got on that boat.”

“Point.”

There was a good bit of arm waving and angst onboard the Knotty Problem. Apparently, while it was supplied, the supply crew had not bothered to clean it up. Then there was the issue of the women. One of the “henchmen” slapped one of the women right in front of God and everybody which earned him a burst of machine-gun fire from the Large . Finally the aptly named sailboat started up its engines and putted away from the megayacht.

“If there are any qualified crewmen left onboard, could you pick up the radio, please… ”

* * *

“Permission to come aboard?” Sophia said, tossing the line of the dinghy to a sailor on the wash deck of the megayacht.

“Come aboard, please.” The woman waiting on the wash deck was gorgeous. Most notable were long, incredibly shapely legs. “I am Olga Zelenova, and you are…?”

“ No Tan Lines ,” Sophia said, hopping onto the deck.

“Never leave the boat” referred to boardings of hostile or potentially hostile vessels. Not boarding the new flagship of the flotilla.

“I… yes, I have no tan… What?” Olga said, confused.

“Sorry,” Sophia said. “It’s a Navy thing. I’m the skipper of the No Tan Lines . Acting Ensign Third Class Sophia Smith.”

“Ah,” Olga said, brightening up. “The boat which found us. Thank you. Yes, ‘You may have a rocket launcher but I have a submarine.’ Very funny. And, yes, Nazar was, as you say, a ‘fucktard.’ ”

“You know where the meeting’s at?” Sophia asked.

“This way,” Olga said. “I am greeting the visitors.”

“Nice,” Sophia said as they entered the main saloon. “Much nicer than the Alpha . Of course, you never got overrun with infected.”