John Ringo - Under a Graveyard Sky

“There were few good choices,” Steve said. “As I said, my family was lucky. Although,” he added, shrugging. “The basic plan would have worked. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without one aspect but… Be that as it may, we can put more people on the Grace . We can put people on the Alpha . I’m willing to push it to the first diurnal or if we see a cyclone coming this way. For the diurnal we’ll bring the small boats in. But when either happens, we are upping stakes and heading away from the northeast Atlantic.”

“There are still a lot of boats and rafts out there,” Isham pointed out.

“And we can’t rescue anyone if we’re dead,” Steve said. “I am audacious, not stupid. Thereafter we will head to the Canaries and do this same thing, more or less. There are distress beacons everywhere and only we few, we happy few, to clear them. Depending on how many EPIRBs there are in that area, we may cut back across the ocean to the Carribean in winter. I would like to be off of Cuba by January. But I do not want to do that at the cost of leaving many behind. Which means we need more boats and more captains… Despite that, I’m going to start shutting down the thirty-fives, including the Endeavor . And I’m going to drag Captain Sherill out if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Good luck,” Isham said.

“Sherill?”

“Fully rated captain,” Steve said. “Who is totally stuck on his tiny little Bertram Thirty-Five. Used to run freighters for Maersk and chucked it, had a hissy fit as he puts it, for being a charter captain out of Charleston. Doesn’t want the responsibility. I’m going to have to convince him otherwise.”

“Like I said,” Isham said. “Good luck.”

There was a knock on the door and Isham looked at Steve.

“Enter!” Steve called.

“Commodore,” the young woman said nervously. “Sorry, but Captain Sherill is calling and he says it’s urgent.”

“Speaking of Captain Gilligan,” Steve said. “Where’s the radio room on this tub?”

* * *

“What’s up, Gi… Sea Fit ?” Steve said.

“You need to get out here,” Sherill replied, instantly. “Now.”

Steve was used to the irrascible skipper’s usual tones. Desperately serious was a new one.

“Details,” he replied.

“ You know how you’re always talking about people dying waiting for rescue in compartments?”

“Yes,” Steve said.

“It’s a cruise ship. I’m watching that in real time. Get in your fucking tub and get your Aussie ass and all the guns you can find out here. I’ll help clear this one. There are people still alive in their staterooms and they’re looking at me. I’m making a banner that says ‘Help is on the way. Hold on.’ Get out here, Wolf. Now.”

“All ships, relay that information to all receiving stations,” Steve said. “All vessels converge His Sea Fit ’s location. Large , time to earn your munificent pay from your friendly Uncle. And time to fish or cut bait on the arms locker. Victoria , begin transfer all personnel and mobile equipment to Grace. Endeavor, Endeavor, Endeavor, Commodore, are you in radio range, over?”

“En- vo- proce- Sea-fit…”

“Endeavor’s about twenty miles away, Commodore,” Sherill called. “Their response was proceeding our location.”

“Begin surface clearance,” Steve said. “Do not do entry until I arrive. Relay that, Sherill. Commodore moving to location now. All vessels: don’t spare the horses. Wolf, out.”

He looked over at Isham and Gilbert.

“Get all of Victoria’s personnel and stores on your boat, Gilbert,” Steve said. “And any of the SLLs left. When you’re cross-loaded, head to the location. Isham, tell Captain Miguel to make ready for sea.”

“Are you taking this?”

“No time,” Steve said. “I wish I had something faster than the Toy .”

* * *

“That tears it,” Galloway said.

“Sir…” Commander Freeman said.

“I’m not talking about the captaincy , Commander,” Galloway said. “But we’re also not going to stand by and let who knows how many survivors die sealed into a cruise ship. Get me the Dallas and Charlotte …”

“Time, time, time,” Steve said pushing the throttles of the Toy forward again. It didn’t give him any more speed. “Ask me for anything but…”

He stopped speaking as an attack boat made a fast surface off his starboard bow at about 1000 yards. He noted in the back of his mind that they’d surfaced upwind.

“ Tina’s Toy , USS Dallas , over ,” the radio crackled.

“Steve!” Stacey screamed from below.

“I see it,” Steve said, picking up the radio. “Wolf Actual, over.”

“Wolf, all possible support has been authorized for this operation,” the Dallas said. “USS Charlotte is in the process of taking the Campbell under tow to bring it to the cruise ship. We cannot supply clearance personnel but access to all USCG materials are, say again, are authorized and USCG personnel are to place themselves, temporarily, under your command for clearance and rescue support. We don’t have much in the way of shotgun rounds but we’re going to float what we have off in a boat, as will Charlotte upon arrival, to assist your clearance teams. Current weather report is no fronts or tropical activity for this area for a minimum of ten days. Some convection storms are possible but they are scattered. We will be monitoring all area channels but are now authorized to direct communicate. We will be taking over Marine Channel Thirty-Three. We will continue to give what support we can without being contaminated. Do you have any questions at this time?”

“Not that I can think of,” Steve said.

“We will draw ahead of you and drop off a radio on a float,” Dallas said, speeding up.

The Tina’s Toy was a fairly fast yacht. Not a racing yacht but no lubber. The Dallas just left it behind. On the surface .

“That radio is for your use and your use only, Commodore Wolf,” Dallas continued. “Higher would like to have a secure chat. Proceeding to the Sea Fit’s location. Good luck, Wolf.”

A bright orange buoy ejected from a launcher and the Dallas slipped below the waves. Steve was pretty sure by the time it disappeared it was going faster than a cigarette boat.

Stacey sat down next to him and wrapped her arms around him. Her eyes were misty.

“We’re in contact,” Steve said, hugging her.

“That’s not what I’m crying about,” Stacey said.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked.

“Nothing,” Stacey said, hugging him again. “The commander of a U.S. Navy nuclear submarine called you ‘Commodore.’ And I don’t think he even realized he’d said it.”

“Oh, that,” Steve said, slowing the boat as Pat pulled out a boat hook to catch the buoy. “No worries, wife ’o mine. I’m sure he’s regretting it already.”

* * *

“Where do you want me to put it, Faith?” Sophia asked.

“How the fuck should I know?” Faith said. She sounded desperate. There was reason to be.

The cruise ship was massive. Really seriously stupidly huge. The boats around it were so many mice, no, fleas circling an elephant. A wounded and still bleeding elephant. Because rising as high as a sky scraper, or so it seemed from the water-line, there were state rooms. With exterior balconies. And on at least a dozen of those there were people watching the circling craft. People that looked like survivors of the death camps. Most of them couldn’t even stand. They were leaning against the railings, just staring with glassy eyes at the help just a few hundred yards away.