John Ringo - Von Neumann’s War

“Top, see if you can find anything to improve sheltering,” Shane said, rubbing his shoulder. “Get out some perimeter. Mahoney, set up your boxes. I want at least thirty percent personnel up at all times; these things don’t care about day and night.”

“Gregory,” Cady said. “Take Jones and Letorres and do a survey for any shelter that’s still standing. Just a couple of walls will do. Angle down towards the port. The rest of you, get the gear in a huddle and put in a perimeter. Nelms, center up again, potato guns out and carbines in. Let’s get it moving, people.”

“Nothing, nada, zilch,” Jones said an hour later. The three soldiers had moved southward through the base, looking for anything that could be used for shelter. But the vast majority of the buildings had been concrete from which the rebar had been pulled. They weren’t even sure where on the base they were; the road signs were gone and most of the roads had been dug up for metal.

“We need to get heading back,” Gregory said, looking at the sun. Despite trying, the Huntsville team hadn’t been able to come up with any really good nonmetallic watches.

“I could use some rest,” Letorres said, shaking his head. “I could swear that bit of rubble just moved,” he added, pointing to a section of what had probably been wall.

“Me, too,” Jones said, drifting sideways and then taking a knee to target the pile of broken concrete.

Gregory spun slowly in place, taking in the sky and ground, then turned back to the pile.

“Slow advance,” the staff sergeant said. “Jones, keep it covered. Letorres right and rear, I’ll take left and rear.”

The three spread out in a rough triangle and approached the rubbled wall, which was about seventy meters away.

When they were about fifty meters from the pile or rubble, Jones raised a closed fist, then stopped and took a knee.

“What?” Gregory asked, keeping security left and to the rear.

“Shit,” Jones said after a moment. He stood up and let his weapon drop on its sling, cupping his hands around his mouth. “HEY!”

The rubble seemed to shift slightly and then Gregory realized that it was a gray suit of ghillie cloth.

“What the fuck are you guys doing over there ?” the soldier under the ghillie cloth asked, raising up to take a knee. Except for wearing a mottled gray digi-cam uniform he was outfitted in essentially the same manner as the capture team. “You were supposed to be approaching from the east!”

Gregory realized that in their perambulations they’d gotten over to the west side of the base and, apparently, snuck up on someone that was looking for them .

“We’re setting up camp over on the east side by the runways,” Gregory said, waving in that direction.

“Why?” the soldier asked, waving over his shoulder, then stepping down off the rubble. “Don’t you want to go home?”

“Lieutenant Cragar, Alpha Platoon, SEAL Team One, sir,” the SEAL officer said, saluting Shane.

“Good to see you, Lieutenant,” Shane said, wearily returning the salute. “And, especially, additional bodies to carry all this crap. Don’t get any metal around the red-marked bag; it’s got a live one in it.”

The SEAL platoon had been set up near the port, with OPs out to watch for Shane’s team. As it turned out, the teams had been less than two hundred meters apart and in the cratered landscape of the former base they had missed each other entirely.

Cragar, though, had picked up the whole platoon and moved it to the recon team’s site when the SEAL sentry had brought in Gregory and his team.

“Holy shit,” the SEAL said, shaking his head. “Good work, sir!”

“It was an accident,” Shane admitted. “We got bounced on the way back. They got the Humvees, we got a live one. I call that a win.”

“No shit,” Cragar said, his eyes wide. “You won ?”

“Beat the crap out of them, sir,” Cady said, his face split in a broad grin.

“We can do it,” Shane said, quietly. “We’ve proved that. The question is, can we do it enough .”

“Well, we’ve got transport out to the sub, sir,” Cragar said, waving his platoon forward to help carry the probe samples. “It’s going to be a bit rough. And you’ll want to put these on,” he added, holding out a plastic packet.

“What’s this?” Shane asked, looking at the pack. “Scopolamine?”

“As I said, sir, it’s going to be a bit rough,” Cragar said, grinning.

“Just climb in,” the SEAL said to Cady, gesturing at the ocean kayak. It was colored in gray-blue digi-cam that made it almost disappear into the lapping water. The kayak had been drawn up on a pebbled shore but beyond the small cove the waves were crashing in foaming white water. “Keep your weight down or you’re going in the drink and you really don’t want to go swimming, even in the suit.”

The team had been hastily stuffed into immersion suits as soon as they got to the beach and now were boarding the kayaks as the SEALs loaded their samples and equipment.

“I don’t care for water, much,” Cady said, clambering cautiously over the bow. “I’m too solid to swim good. My massive, godlike penis drags me down.”

“Got it,” the SEAL said, grinning. He hung onto the side of the kayak and made his way into the waist-deep water by the side of the small boat. “Slide your legs, and your godlike dick if it will fit, into that opening,” the SEAL said, gesturing to the front seat.

Cady managed to get into the opening although it was a tight fit. The SEAL pulled up something that looked vaguely like a cross between a poncho and a harness and hooked it over the sergeant major’s shoulders.

“Cinch that buckle in if you would, Sergeant Major,” the SEAL said, gesturing at an unbuckled clasp. “Not too tight, but it’s what’s going to keep you from getting soaked.”

“Works for me,” Cady said, sliding the straps out so they’d fit around his chest and then hooking up.

“These things are stable as hell,” the SEAL said as he pushed the kayak into the water. He slid along the side, using lines that were laced there for the purpose, until he got to the rear. Then he slid over the side and into his own compartment, hooking up and picking up his paddle. As soon as they were out from the beach he spun the kayak in a circle and made his way into the cove where several of the other kayaks were assembling.

“Why kayaks?” Cady asked. “I thought you guys used Zodiacs. And do you want me to help paddle?” He’d noticed that there was one lashed by his seat.

“I can handle it,” the SEAL said. “You’re pretty solid but this takes a certain set of muscle groups and it’d probably kick your ass after a while. And the reason we’re using these instead of Zods is that the sub is about ten miles out. Paddling a Zod for ten miles is a bitch and a half. This isn’t easy , but it’s a fuck of a lot better than paddling a Zod. Especially in this shit.”

The kayaks had assembled about fifty meters offshore and about the same from the opening to the cove. As soon as the last kayak was with the group, Lieutenant Cragar waved to the south and they headed for the opening.

“This is pretty rough, huh?” Cady asked as the kayak swooped up and down on the waves in the cove.

“Light chop,” the SEAL said. “Now, out there, we’ve got seven to ten foot waves. There’s a storm coming in from the southeast, which is why they’re running so high. It’s gonna be interesting getting out to the sub. We surfed most of the way in.”

“There wasn’t anybody at the base,” Cady said as they cleared the cove and the first real wave hit them. The nose of the boat pitched up until it was pointed at the sky and the kayak rolled slightly to the side. Then it headed for the trough like a rocket, the bow digging into the oncoming wave and covering the front of the kayak in green and white water. Then they headed back up the next wall of water. “Jesus!”