John Ringo - To Sail a Darkling Sea

“Got it, sir,” Isham said. “And get me some more staff.”

“I’ll work on that,” Steve said.

CHAPTER 18

Freedom is not free, but the U.S. Marine Corps will pay most of your share.

Ned Dolan

“I’m totally freaking out!” Faith said, adjusting her uniform as she approached the doors to the ballroom. She’d been informed as the “junior Marine” she had to give the toast and was, therefore, required to be in uniform. Her beautiful dress was relegated to the closet. Worse, all she had was MarCam.

“You’ll be fine,” Olga said.

“Easy for you to say!” Faith said. “You get to wear girl clothes!”

“Take a deep breath,” Olga said, hand on the door. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Faith said.

* * *

“Do you think you could increase your father’s knowledge base, Lieutenant?” Steve said at breakfast the next morning.

“I’ll try, Da,” Faith said, holding her hand up to her face. She was wearing oversized glasses and make-up which was unusual to say the least. And she didn’t seem to want to move her hand away from the left side of her face.

“Is there a reason that the Gunnery Sergeant is sporting one hell of a shiner?” Steve asked.

“What happens at the Ball, stays at the Ball, Da,” Faith said, chewing carefully…

“Hey, Ernest,” Steve said as Zumwald tentatively entered his office. “Grab a chair. I understand you’re a scotch drinker?” He laid out two glasses and pulled out a bottle.

“So what’s this? Last drink before you put me on a desert island?” Zumwald said, picking up the glass and sniffing it. “Strathisclyde? Where’d you get Strathisclyde?”

“My daughter Sophia clears a lot of ships,” Steve said. “I mentioned that. There’s always booze left. Zombies don’t drink it. Cheers, mate,” Steve said, taking a sip. “By the way, is it Ernest or do you prefer to be called something else? I doubt, sincerely, it’s Ernie.”

“Nobody’s called me Ernie since I was in grade school,” Zumwald said. “Ernest, usually.”

“Cheers, Ernest,” Steve said.

“Seriously, why are you being nice to me?” Zumwald asked. “What do you want?”

“It’s like any abusive relationship,” Steve said. “I smacked you around, at least emotionally, you did what I needed you to do, and you did it well according to the Gunny. Now I’m being nice.”

“As long as I keep doing what you need, right?” Zumwald said, chuckling. “Seriously, you should have been in my industry. What, you need a movie done?”

“No,” Steve said, then frowned. “And, yes. But there’s a kid who used to do documentaries, small things, and he’s working on that. This is history in the making. I’m not… I’m not a narcissist. But that’s the reality. At least if we manage to keep the ball rolling. Which is why, yeah, I’ll slap you around or feed you good scotch, whatever it takes, if I need something to keep that ball rolling.”

“So what balls do you need rolled?” Zumwald asked.

“You got someone who can take over the whole gear thing?” Steve asked.

“I didn’t get the pick of the litter,” Zumwald said, balefully. “But, yeah, I got somebody who can probably handle running it. Do I get a reprieve, finally?”

“I only ever saw that as both something I needed done and something that you’d do well but still hate,” Steve said. “And as I said, you’ve managed it well. Even though, yeah, you got the bottom of the barrel to do it. This is different. We’re going to be closing out the liner clearance in about a week. Then we’ll do some reconfiguration. After that, we’re going to cross the Atlantic. Isham’s been looking at the logistics of that and it’s going to be tough. And he’s buried in the day to day and can’t concentrate on planning it.”

“So you want me to plan it?” Zumwald said. “What’s in it for me?”

“You get to quit being a washing girl?” Steve said. “There’s not a lot in the way of really good staff available but you get your pick of that. As for the rest, we’ll figure something out. This is… what was that movie, Ben Stiller thing about some movie that was being made in the jungle… ”

“ Tropic Thunder ?” Zumwald said, frowning. “What a crock.”

“I’d wondered if you were the original for Les Grossman,” Steve said, grinning.

“No, I wasn’t,” Zumwald said. “And Cruise can bite my ass.”

“He’s probably a zombie at this point,” Steve said. “Still, the point remains. This is the deal zone. What do you want? And don’t say, ‘the world back the way it was.’ Nobody can do that.”

“What is there?” Zumwald said. “I mean, really? What I’d like is a steak.”

“Don’t we all,” Steve said, grinning. “You’ll get the top ration level. Lieutenant equivalency. Isham’s still only a Lieutenant and I can’t really put you ahead of him. But it’s the same stuff I eat. I’m thinking of sending one of the boats up to do a lobster run to Bermuda. But we’ll at least have that once we reach the Caribbean. And the same on booze ration. Which means by the bottle, which I happen to know you’ve already been arranging. But you can just hit the Class Six for it. And the good stuff when available,” he added, raising his still barely touched glass.

“Better accommodations?” Zumwald said. “I’m getting sick of my roommate. Fucker picks his nose. I can’t believe I have a roommate. I didn’t have a roommate in college .”

“Deluxe cabin on the Boadicea ,” Steve said. “To yourself. Share a steward. Probably with Isham. I’ll see if one of the ones that’s still intact is available.”

“Reluctantly,” Zumwald said. “It’s not exactly the Ritz.”

“I just realized the other day that I’m running a commune,” Steve said. “Which is odd since I loathe communism.”

“What?” Zumwald said. “Sort of out of the blue, there.”

“Not really,” Steve said, musingly. “I’m sort of puzzled by it myself. But the overall drive is from everyone according to his ability, to everyone according to their needs. More like classic Soviet economy, though. For example, I’m offering you the equivalent of a better apartment and access to the good stores to run some stuff that I don’t want to be bothered with. You get the similarity?”

“Yeah,” Zumwald said. “And they made lousy films.”

“Oh, they made lousy everything,” Steve said, chuckling. “But the military has a lot of similarities. Another fact I realized the other night. In the military you get relatively little pay and some generalized living support, not much, for what is really seriously lousy work. You’ve seen the results. Then there’s the guys running the ships, the cooks… It’s really a communism but there’s a reason that it works. And that this works, sort of. Where you from, Ernest? Where’s home?”

“I’ve lived in LA most of my life,” Zumwald said, staring at him like he was wondering if Smith had lost it. “But really the City’s home.”

“Where?” Steve asked. “The City is many cities in one.”

“Brooklyn,” Zumwald said.

“Family?” Steve asked.

“I got the word that’s not something to talk about, mostly,” Zumwald said. “Slew of greedy ex wives. No kids. Got myself fixed after my first close call.”

“You like New York?” Steve said. “It’s pretty clear you’re all about number one. But is it something you miss?”

“Yeah,” Zumwald admitted after a few moments. “Yeah. I do. What’s your point?”