John Ringo - To Sail a Darkling Sea

“Married forty-three years, four months, nineteen days, sir,” Chief Schmidt said, pulling out a pen. “Twenty-three of those were in the Navy. Dorene was a great Navy spouse but she never liked it. She said she’d strangle me if I ever joined the Navy again. I guess it’s a good thing I had to do it to her when she turned, sir.”

He signed on the line.

* * *

Puerto De Gulmar was just another damned town with another damned marina. With more damned boats and more damned zombies. And sharks.

“What are you doing?” Sophia asked, walking up on the flying bridge. The pop, pop, of an M4 discharging had made that obvious.

“Shooting sharks,” Olga replied. She had her M4 pointed at the water. “You shoot one, the other ones close in for the kill. Then you’ve got a target rich environment. And they’re not at the bottom of a fucking marina and out of range.”

“Olga,” Sophia said, carefully. “Unload your weapon and hand me the magazine.”

“They ate Cody!” Olga said, angrily.

“I saw,” Sophia said. “Helped pull him out. Remember?”

“You weren’t there!” Olga said. “You didn’t see him. He was trying ! He nearly got his… ”

“Seaman Recruit, put down the weapon,” Sophia said. “Put it down. Now.”

“Screw this,” Olga said, throwing the M4 down. “Screw this. Screw this Navy shit… ”

“Olga,” Sophia said. “Sit.”

“No,” Olga said, crossing her arms.

“Sit,” Sophia said. “Now. That was not a request.”

Olga sat down with her arms folded. She looked like she was saving up spit.

Sophia picked up the M4 and unloaded it. She noticed that Olga had put it on safe before tossing it down which showed she wasn’t really round the bend.

“Olga… ” Sophia said, then paused. “Okay, let’s start with, ‘this Navy shit.’ ”

“It’s stupid,” Olga said. “Aye, aye this and three bags full and port and starboard and sheets go on a bed !”

“That’s not a big town,” Sophia said. “And tomorrow, whoever we get to climb aboard a dinghy is going to go in and pull out survivors. And you are going. You’re going not because you want to. But because I’m going to order you to. And if you don’t, Olga, I’m going to put you up on charges.”

“Oh, thanks a lot, Sophia!” Olga said. “Thanks a lot!”

“You’ll spend the rest of your time in the Squadron in a little cabin with other people who have committed crimes,” Sophia said. “Because you raised your right hand and said that you swore to obey orders. You don’t want to go onshore. I know that. But the choice is between going and spending years in a cell. And it will be years, Olga. I’ll make sure of it. You’ll be old and white and gray by the time you see a town like this again.”

“I thought you were my friend,” Olga said, crying.

“I am,” Sophia said. “And I’m your commander. And you are going to get in the boat. And you are going to cut out some of those yachts. And you are going to sweep the town. Because if I let you slide, nobody will get on the boats. Nobody will get those yachts. And one of those yachts will find more than the number of people we’ll lose getting them. That’s it. Cold, hard, math. And that’s what all this Navy shit is all about. When it gets down to something like tomorrow, it’s about forcing people to do things they don’t want to do because the alternative is worse .”

“And I suppose you’ll just stay on the boat, fat and happy?” Olga said.

“No,” Sophia said. “Tomorrow, at least, I’ll be leading the away team. Frankly, I’d rather do that than sit on the boats and watch my people go out. Lieutenant Chen wanted to lead it but I convince him not only do I have more ground combat experience, he needed to be on the boats. I want to make sure they’re here when we get back. And what I really want to do is go find some harbor that’s not teeming with sharks and catch a tan and drink some rum and maybe do a little diving. But that’s not what we get to do right now.

“What we get to do is go find people who are dying and hopeless. So that in a few weeks, some of them will be back, hopefully, helping do the same thing. And maybe, just maybe, if we get enough of them, one day we can go find that beach that’s not black fucking volcanic sand surrounded by friends-eating sharks and drink some rum and talk about Cody.

“But now, it’s Navy shit. Cold, hard, math. And tomorrow, you’re going to be getting in that dinghy, in a shark filled marina, and cutting out yachts. And if you really want to honor Cody, instead of shooting sharks, remember to keep your damned balance and don’t feed them. The correct response is ‘Aye, aye, Lieutenant.’ ”

“Aye, aye, Lieutenant,” Olga said.

“Last thing,” Sophia said. “If it had been you in the water and Cody sitting here, what would he have done tomorrow?”

Olga thought about that for a while and shrugged.

“He’d have gotten in the dinghy,” Olga said.

“Because Cody was always about the God damned mission,” Sophia said, choking.

“Oh, don’t you cry, too,” Olga said. “We’re never going to get anything done if you start crying.”

“Like a river,” Sophia said. “And all we’ve got to do right now is play bait.”

“I should have screwed him,” Olga said. “I was going to. I was just playing hard to get.”

“Yeah, probably,” Sophia said, shrugging. “But that was yesterday. For tonight… Well, I’m going to have to clear with a hangover in the morning. Let’s have a wake… ”

* * *

“Bloody hell,” Sergeant Major Barney said as the military “fast-boat” inflatable finally slowed. It had been going balls to the wall most of the night, more or less bouncing from wave-top to wave top. And not regularly by any stretch of the imagination. Barney’s kidneys felt as if they were going to bleed for a week. But the “Flotilla” was finally in sight, the only electric lights they’d seen since leaving Tenerife. “I thought Ferrets beat you up. I hope to never have to repeat this experience.”

“Gotta love the ocean, Mick,” Chief Schmidt said. He’d slept like a baby most of the ride or at least seemed to have. “Think of her as a mother. An abusive one.”

“Ah, well, that makes so much more sense, Yank, thanks,” Barney said. “But how do you handle it? I had a mum and dad.”

“Flotilla, Fast Twenty-Nine.”

The kid driving the boat was, well, a kid. He couldn’t have been more than twelve. But he seemed to know what he was doing. He’d found the Flotilla at least.

“Oh, come on,” the kid said. “Somebody’s got to hear the radio, right?”

As they neared the Flotilla they could hear music playing. Loudly. And there were people on deck dancing to the music. It looked like a party, not a military operation.

Zombies apparently wanted to join in. The Flotilla was broken into two groups, one by a marina and one by some beaches to the north. Zombies were roaming both the marina and the beaches, obviously trying to join the party.

“Yeah, what’s up?” a slurred voice answered . “And what’s a fast twenty-nine? Sounds like a band… ”

“Fast boat coming up on your party, over,” the kid said. “Bringing some reinforcements from Squadron.”

“Yeah, I dunno nothin’ about that. Hang on …”

“S’up?”

The new voice was female and just as clearly drunk.

“This is Fast Boat Twenty-Nine?” the kid said. “From the Squadron? I’ve got two replacements for you.”

“A’ight. Hey, hey, Paula! Get the flare gun. Go to the boats by the marina. Go to the one that fires the flare. Just tie up alongside. We’re having a rockin’ wake for Anarchy.”