John Ringo - Under a Graveyard Sky

“Because before you were a pain and a problem I did not need,” Steve said. “Now you are a potential asset. I’ll even loan you a respirator.”

“Toy, Cooper. Are you serious ?”

“You want these headaches?” Steve asked. “You’re the second choice for this.”

“No way,” Chris responded.

“So there’s a hook,” Isham said.

“Actually, I can see you seeing it as a positive,” Steve said. “You’re also going stir-crazy with nothing to do. I want to offer you an opportunity.”

“This is going to be a doozy, ain’t it?”

* * *

“You son of a bitch,” was the first thing Isham said as he stepped onto the flush deck.

“I feel the same way,” Steve said, holding out a respirator. “Take a walk with me.”

“I know you don’t want me to captain this thing,” Isham said, putting the respirator on. “How the hell do you use this thing?”

Steve showed him how to fit it.

“You could barely figure out how to steer it,” Steve said, walking up the back deck. “However, part of the opportunity is being able to sleep on it in a very comfortable cabin.”

“One that stinks,” Isham said, looking at the saloon. “Jesus, this is a wreck.”

“And someone needs to clean it up,” Steve said. “Some ones . It will take a lot of people to clean it. And to run it.”

“So you can have the big yacht?” Isham growled.

“So that we can use it as an at-sea support base,” Steve said. “Somewhere for the refugees and the crews to fall back on for rest and refit. I don’t know if you’d realized it, but there are storms that are about to start sweeping down on this area. We’re going to have to leave soon. Our crews aren’t good enough, our boats aren’t good enough, to survive the North Atlantic in winter. Or a bad tropical. We need a base. The Large isn’t big enough.”

“How are you…?” Isham said, shaking his head.

“I’ll provide plenty of answers,” Steve said. “But I want you to follow me and see something, first.”

* * *

“Dead bodies,” Isham said. He’d seen quite a few on the way down. Since he hadn’t been working with the flotilla he’d had to stop and try not to puke at the first few.

“Both in body armor,” Steve said. “Because there was a mutiny by the, well, mercenaries the owner hired. He wasn’t killed. They deliberately infected him with the zombie virus.”

“Jesus,” Isham said. “Sick. What’s your point.”

“This is why I threw you out,” Steve said, pointing. “And why I’ve thrown others out. What they wanted was the power and control. It’s what you want. But they couldn’t say ‘I’ve been given x amount of power and control and I’m fine with that.’ They wanted all the pussy and all the booze and all the gold. And they each wanted all of it.”

“I wasn’t going to rape your daughters, Smith,” Isham said.

“But you would have had others following you that would,” Steve said. “Or would try. Everyone talks about Faith but I would not suggest it with either one. This is the darkness that every one of us has in us, Jack. And this is what happens when we let that darkness loose. Fontana has it. I have it. And you have it but you use other means. What I understand, what Fontana understands, is that when you let it loose this is the result. No man can trust another. You desire power, control, prestige. I’m willing to give you those. But. The moment that I suspect that you are going in this direction… Then I will kill you, Jack. Without hesitation and without warning. This will not happen on my watch.”

“You still haven’t said exactly what you want,” Isham said.

“I want you to be the XO of the Flotilla and of this boat,” Steve said. “The operations officer if you prefer. I want you to, first, get this place cleaned up. We’ll recruit the people in Coventry for it. Which is part of the challenge because they’re not exactly self-starters.”

“God no,” Isham said, grimacing.

“They’re who we have,” Steve said, shrugging. “You’re a micro-manager. It will give vent to that. Then find the ones that can do jobs, actually do them, and set them to it on this boat. Others will be sent onboard that are actually skilled. I want this to be turned into a support boat, not a floating palace. And we need to get the resupply system under control, repairs to the boats, division of materials, organize salvage teams… That will all be on your shoulders. Something for you to do, Jack. Prestige, power, control.”

“And the second I let it go to my head I get a bullet in the back of the head?” Isham said with a dry laugh.

“I won’t say that we’re not playing fast and loose with the law of the sea,” Steve said. “But the law has always held that sedition, mutiny if you would, is grounds for the death sentence. Try to use the authority I’m giving you to take over and, yes, I will put a bullet in your head. Not because I want the power and authority and control. Because I know it will lead to this,” he said, pointing at his feet. “I don’t know if you understand that. If you ever can.”

“I can’t exactly mutiny if you’ve got all the guns,” Isham said.

“There will be guns,” Steve said. “I’m about done waiting for whoever that is on the phone to make up his mind. If I don’t get a call, soon, I’m going to strip that damned cutter without permission and damn to them. And one point to this is a place to put materials.”

“You really have been talking to Washington?” Isham asked.

“Washington is gone,” Steve said. “You know that. I heard about your trip to the coast. I don’t know who they are. Just that the subs, or some subs, follow their orders. Jack, I need someone to ramrod this, to get it done. You’re a get it done person. Can I trust you not to knife me in the back?”

“You’re so trusting,” Isham said.

“It is a well known fact that Australia is a nation populated entirely by criminals,” Steve intoned. “And criminals trust no one.”

“Funny,” Isham said.

“So you want the job?” Steve asked.

“I dunno,” Isham said, rubbing his head. “Lemme see the cabin.”

* * *

“It got trashed out by the mutineers but not the zombies,” Steve said.

The starboard side cabin was the size of a small home with a magnificent sweep of windows, and a bathroom that was worthy of any palatial home. On the other hand, some of the fixtures had been ripped out.

“Gold?” Isham said, fingering a hole in the alabaster counter top where a faucet had been pulled out.

“Probably,” Steve said.

“I don’t suppose it’s still onboard?”

“Funny story that…”

* * *

Steve turned the Toy away as the Alpha dropped anchor in Jew Bay and headed for the Livin’ Large .

“ Livin’ Large, Toy, over ,” Steve called.

“ Toy, Livin’ Large. Just had to one up us, over ?”

“Something like that,” Steve replied. “Coming alongside for a chat.”

* * *

“Hey, Steve,” Kuzma said, shaking his hand.

The Petty Officer looked much better than the last time Steve had seen him. And he had to admit that the Coasties had been a real help. Most of the refugees were being slowly moved back to Bermuda harbor. After a few days rest out of the waves they were given the choice of joining the Flotilla or going to Coventry. Those that volunteered for the Flotilla had stayed onboard the Large. The Coasties had been managing that process, taking some of the burden off of Steve.

“How’s the personnel situation?” Steve asked.

“Nominal,” Kuzma said. “Until we get more boats, we’ve got more volunteers than we’ve got slots.”