John Ringo - To Sail a Darkling Sea

“Already done,” the man said. “Por vous.”

“Merci, mon ami,” Thomas said.

The computer did, indeed, have a number of quizzes. There weren’t any on mountaineering. The knot section was multiple choice on how to tie certain knots. There was a note that there would be a second, hands-on, test. He finished the test and was mildly annoyed that he’d only gotten a ninety-five. He must have missed one. He made a note to pay closer attention.

“Civilian shootings was interesting. Most of it was the written portion of the NRA personal defense with firearms test. But there were other questions that were odd and even off the wall. Some of them were phrases well known in the shooting community. “Be polite to everyone and… ” He picked the correct answer: “Have a plan to kill them.” Although he almost clicked “shower the world with random acts of kindness and gentle mercy” just for the hell of it. Some were almost philosophical. “1911 or H amp;K USP?” “AK or M4?” “Kukhri or chainsaw?” There was one question: “.45 or 9mm” that had only one answer: “.45 because there’s no.46.” He almost chuckled on that one.

He scored a 100 with the note: “This test is based upon the experiences of personnel currently involved in operations against infected and, therefore, your answer(s): 1911 has been judged INCORRECT. But we gave you a pass on it since it’s a cult thing with you guys and the Constitution allows for freedom of religion. Even if you’re WRONG. P3L Faith Marie Smith, USMC.”

“P3L?” Thomas said, leaning back. It wasn’t a rank he’d ever seen and he’d seen pretty much every rank. Then he nodded. “Oh. So a Provisional Third Lieutenant is telling me what gun to use, huh?”

He also found it interesting that “AK” and “Kukhri” were correct.

The boating one was the most extensive. It started with a short test that covered basic boating safety and nautical terms. He scored a one hundred on that one. Then a second test came up. He’d seen it, somewhere, before but he wasn’t sure where. He’d never taken this particular test but he’d seen it. Somewhere. He realized about half way through that it was from the master mariner’s course book.

He couldn’t answer all the questions which annoyed him. He’d read the book, once, on a deployment when it was about the only thing around to read. But that had been… during Desert Storm on that barge in the Gulf. He started remembering some of the questions after that, his memory was like that, and went back and checked to find the ones that he’d guessed. He found himself humming The Doors “Riders on the Storm” and remembering more. The SEAL lieutenant commander on the barge was a Doors fan and he played it constantly. The song triggered more memories and he went back and basically started the test all over again.

Others had gone to computers and gotten up as he was working on his tests. A new group had come in and a lady came over as he was working on the master mariner’s test.

“Sir, are you nearly done?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Thomas said. “I’m still only on the mariner portion. There’s truck driving and a couple of other things to go. How long is the linguistics test?”

“There are three questions on the language,” the lady said.

“Okay, be a while there,” Thomas said. “And some of these marine questions are tough. Could you give me a few minutes?”

“Take as much time as you wish,” the lady said. “We weren’t sure… Just take your time… ”

He finally finished the maritime questions and was pleased to see that he’d scored an eighty-nine. That should give him a shot at one of the boat crews. That sounded like more fun than being a linguist.

Then came the linguistics questions. The first question was a screen with click boxes that asked the user to click what languages were “fluent written and spoken.”

Thomas paused at that one. The screen had a few he couldn’t speak and a bunch were missing that he could. Finally he clicked German, French, Russian and because they were in the Canary Islands and they were going to Gitmo, Spanish. He thought about Chinese, Tagalog and Indonesian. But that would probably leave him translating the rest of his cruise and that was the last thing he wanted to do. They also had Arabic and Japanese but, well, the list was longer of what they didn’t have that he spoke and could read and write in cases where they had a written language. They were missing Urdu, Dari, Pashtun and Tajik for example. Not to mention Swahili, Kikongo, Lingala… The list was longer of what they didn’t have…

There was a test on each of them. Three phrases with multiple choice answers as to their translation. All three were what he would term advanced if he was teaching the course. He even recognized a couple of them from DLI.

That one he scored a one hundred. He damned well should, he’d written these tests before.

There were no tests for truck driving or mountaineering so he was done.

He took a seat and waited.

“Thomas Walker?”

* * *

“You were an English as a Second Language instructor?”

There was a printed out folded-paper sign on the desk that read “Matthew Scott Baker.” The placement officer was skinny which vaguely surprised Thomas until he realized that probably everyone had come off a lifeboat or from a compartment like his.

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said. “In England working mostly with Spanish and French managers transferred to England who needed some brushing up on their linguistic skills. But I’d really prefer do something on the nautical side.”

“You certainly appear qualified for that on paper,” Baker said, shaking his head. “We’ve master mariners that couldn’t remember this much of the test. Do you have a mariner’s ticket?”

“No, sir,” Thomas said. “I just enjoyed reading and read the book a few times. Also I had a few friends with boats and I’d cadge rides on yachts. I know my way around. I forgot to include I can also cook. I’ve never been a professional cook but I can find my way around a galley.”

“Cooks we have,” Baker said. “Even professional navy and cruise line cooks. People who know how to pass the mariner’s course are rare. Despite that, you won’t be placed directly into a boat captain’s position. Sorry, it’s a matter of trust. You have to spend some time crewing on a vessel.”

“And cleaning compartments,” Thomas said. “I understand the need for that.”

“Oh, no,” Baker said, shaking his head. “We’ve got a very high priority for persons who can show any ability with these yachts. You’re going to the very head of that list based on your answers. And civilian shooting experience with a one hundred? You’re going to boat crews unless you somehow fooled the tests. I’ll schedule you for the hands-on testing phase for tomorrow’s class if you’re really ready?”

“Absolutely,” Walker said. “I don’t like sitting around.”

“You’re scheduled,” Baker said. “There should be a message passed to you at your compartment but if that gets fouled up, be on the aft deck at eight AM tomorrow morning. And if you’re not on their list, have them call me and I’ll straighten it out. Thank you for volunteering; we really need all the help we can get.”

“Just proud to be here,” Walker said. “Any idea where my compartment might be?”

Baker looked at his screen and shook his head.