John Ringo - To Sail a Darkling Sea

“ We’ll set up for fire on the inner jetty ,” Lieutenant Zachary “Zack” Chen radioed from the USNA Wet Debt , formerly the Fishing Vessel (F/V) Wet Debt , a sixty-foot oceanic shrimp trawler. Lieutenant Chen was the division commander for Littoral Clearance Division One. The recently rescued navy lieutenant had previously been an ordnance officer on the Arleigh Burke-class destroyer USS Truxtun . The Truxtun was also known to be somewhere in the Sargasso Sea but with the exception of the lieutenant and another survivor from a life raft, so far nobody had seen hide nor hair of it. It wasn’t at its last reported position; Sophia had broken away from the division on the way down to the Canary Islands to check. He’d elected to command the division from the fishing trawler. The No Tan Lines carried the Marine Assault Team and would act as a ferry for any survivors from the town who wished to evacuate.

“ Stand by while we anchor and watch the shoals.”

The Wet Debt dropped anchor off the jetty seaward towards the outer breakwater. It dropped anchor nearly at the breakwater, paid it out, then used the pivot point to arrange itself so it was at a forty-five degree angle to the inner jetty about a hundred meters out. There it dropped two more “stream” anchors at points of a triangle and last paid in on the main anchor so it was about a hundred and fifty meters from the jetty.

The second fishing trawler, the Golden Guppy , did much the same thing at the reverse angles, starting from landward. Then Sophia dropped anchor with the No Tan Lines well back, in line with the end of the jetty and in parallel.

“You know,” Januscheitis said. “The sound of an anchor going down used to be one of those great moments. Port call. Exotic wom… Port calls… ”

“Join the Marines, they said,” Derek said. “Travel to foreign lands, they said… ”

“Meet interesting zombies and kill them,” Faith finished. “I say we just party til tomorrow.”

“More or less the plan,” Sophia said, shutting down the engine. She flipped on the stereo and set it to full blast then plugged in her new iPod, Mister Lawton’s “gift.”

There had been a stash of iPods on the Alpha . Apparently Mickerberg handed them out as party favors. Problem being, nobody had the “permissions” to load anything on them.

Lawton’s company hadn’t been involved in hacking but Lawton himself had attained his degree in computer engineering at the age of nineteen. He was a past master of all things hardware and software. For him, creating a bot to fix the permissions issue was child’s play.

Thus what he had given to Sophia was not just a newer and better iPod but a six terabyte hard drive filled with about a gazillion songs. She was still ooing and awing over some of the stuff that was on the hard drive.

On the way down she’d set up a playlist. The fishing boats didn’t have the same system but she could retrans it to their radios and they pumped it through their loud-hailers.

The zombies had been ignoring the boats until the music started. At the first blast of reverb guitar their heads popped up and they started moving towards the end of the jetty.

“ Becoming the Bull ,” Faith said, nodding. “Nice choice. Appropriate.”

“I thought so,” Sophia said as the Wet Debt fired a burst at the group of zombies. “Hell with taking the bull by the horns. We’re gonna be the bull.”

“And now they have something to eat,” Januscheitis said, nodding. Seagulls descended on the dead infecteds and that must have been a signal for other zombies. More appeared from the town, heading for the pile of new carrion.

“I knew I forgot something,” Sophia said, snapping her fingers.

“What?” Faith asked.

“ Flock of Seagulls .”

“Oh, please, ma’am,” Derek said. “ Anything but that.”

“Who?” Faith said.

“Okay, now we wait,” Chen radioed. “Like, say, crab fishing. Let the bait do the work for you. Good choice by the way, Seawolf. Crank it up.”

“Hope you like the rest of the playlist, sir,” Sophia replied. “Okay, let’s party.”

“By the way,” Chen radioed. “Do you have Flock of Seagulls?”

“Oh, God,” Derek said. “No, no, no… ”

“Not on this playlist, sir,” Sophia said. “I’ll have to check my hard drive… ”

* * *

“What’s wrong with this song, Derek?” Faith asked, writhing to the music.

The sun had slowly set over the harbor and the boats had all their lights on full blaze along with the booming music. They’d even been firing off flares from time to time as the party got into full swing.

Lieutenant Chen was an Annapolis grad and raised in the tradition, going back to the first Secretary of the Navy, of ships being dry. He also was trained in the tradition of “never give a rule you know won’t be obeyed.” They’d compromised on “light drinking” for the “zombie bait party.”

“You okay, Derek?” Faith asked.

There were plenty of military rules, as well, about having a party involving officers and enlisteds. Chen, again, was smart enough to know that in this mix, that was impossible to manage. There were no “wardrooms” or “officer’s clubs.” Just tiny boats with people packed cheek to jowl. So the party on the boats was decidedly mixed. And Faith had been enjoying a chance to metaphorically and literally let her hair down. Until Derek stopped dancing.

“I just remembered why I didn’t like this song, ma’am,” Derek said, looking off into the darkness. There was a light sea breeze, a tropical night in a picturesque harbor. A perfect evening. “My parents used to play it all the time whenever we’d go on a long drive and sing it together. It was one of their songs.”

“Oh, Christ, Der,” Faith said, stopping dancing. “You want me to get Sophia to… ”

“No, ma’am,” Derek said, starting to dance. “I just decided it’s one of my favorites… ”

* * *

“Okay, try this , ma’am,” Januscheitis said, setting down a shot glass with a clear liquid in it.

“What is this?” Faith said. She sniffed it and her nose wrinkled. “Seriously? A Marine has to drink?”

“Not has to, ma’am,” Januscheitis said. “Just interested. And it’s chilled vodka. Try it.”

Faith tossed back the drink as the assembled group watched with sneaky smiles.

“Okay, that’s not bad,” Faith said, shrugging.

“No reaction at all?” Paula said, looking shocked. “No coughing? No choking?”

“Was there supposed to be one?” Faith asked. She picked up the bottle, poured another shot and tossed it back. “There, happy?”

“Try this one… ” Sophia said, carefully, sliding across a shot of dark liquor.

“Ick,” Faith said. “That’s not so good. What was it?”

“Twenty-five-year-old Strathsclyde,” Sophia said.

“Which is?” Faith asked.

“Scotch, ma’am,” Januscheitis said. “Good scotch.”

“Tastes like piss,” Faith said. “Not that I’ve ever drunk piss. Okay, what else you got?”

* * *

Thirty minutes later there were a dozen bottles on the table and Faith had had at least one shot from each.

“Okay, rum’s pretty good,” she said, smacking her lips. “Not as good as Razzleberry tea but not bad.”

“She’s not even slightly drunk?” Derek slurred. He was, for sure.

“Isn’t it supposed to be doing something by now?” Faith asked, taking another shot of 151.

* * *

“I mean, I’d just finished seventh grade ,” Faith said. “I’ve been to, like, two school dances! I’m never going to get to go to prom … ” She took another drink and frowned. “That sucks . That’s one of the reasons I hate fucking zombies. I’m never going to get to go to prom.”