Strands of Sorrow (9 page)
Authors: John Ringo
Tags: #Fiction, #science fiction, #General, #Apocalyptic & Post-Apocalyptic, #Military
“Yes, Petty Officer?” she barked.
“Lieutenant Commander Kinsey would like to see you at the Headquarters Building at your earliest convenience, ma’am,” the PO said.
His uniform was straight out of the package and missing a nametag. His facial skin also had a reddened look and a very distinct beard tan-line. Together with the buzz-razor burns on his head, she could spot a “veteran” refugee who had been shanghaied.
“Roger,” Faith said. “Staff Sergeant!”
“Ma’am!” Decker said.
“Receive tools!”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Decker said, making a mental inventory of the present tools. “One seven-eighths wrench is not in inventory, ma’am!”
“My bad,” Faith said a little sheepishly. She pulled the wrench out of a cargo pocket after a bit of patting, wiped it down with a cloth and set it in the toolbox. “One seven-eighths wrench, Staff Sergeant.”
“Tool receipt complete, ma’am!” Decker said.
“Carry on with maintenance, Staff Sergeant!” Faith said.
“Aye, aye, ma’am!”
“Headquarters building is . . . Nine, right, PO?” Faith asked.
“Roger, ma’am,” the petty officer said. “Do you know the way? I am to act as escort.”
“Only at night, PO,” Faith said, smiling thinly. She picked up her battle rattle, put it on and got it adjusted, then attached her M4, dropped the mag, racked it a couple of times to check the action, then did the same with her H&K. The H&K felt a little sticky so she squirted in some CLP.
“Ma’am, with due respect,” the PO said. “If you are unaware, ‘at your earliest convenience’ actually means ‘right away.’”
“I am aware, Petty Officer,” Faith said, holstering the H&K now that it cycled to her satisfaction.
Then
she started walking. “And I will walk from here to there with only a master-at-arms whose combat capabilities I do not know when I am assured that my safety is as fully as possible in
my
hands and not his. Including duly functioning weapons.
“You will note that Lance Corporal Condrey is on security, as I have been familiarizing with the maintenance procedures of an amtrack. For your information, zombies just pop the fuck up no matter
how
many times you’ve swept an area like this. So if you have just been
strolling
around this base, we may shortly be less one petty officer second class. And if a zombie gets you ’cause you’re not being paranoid enough, it will be no great loss to Naval Landing Security Force. Is that clear, Petty Officer?”
“Clear, ma’am,” the petty officer said in a certain “tone.” The tone an experienced soldier uses on a second lieutenant who thinks she’s salty.
“Heh,” Faith said. “Where’d Sophia pick you up?”
“Ma’am?” the PO said.
“The helo pilot is my sister, Petty Officer,” Faith said. “Where’d you get picked up?”
“On a nearby island, ma’am,” the PO said. “Doesn’t really have a name, ma’am.”
“I am aware that you are prior service,” Faith said. “Not Navy, right?”
“Army, ma’am,” the petty officer said. “Florida National Guard light cav.”
“I know all about ‘butter bars,’ oorah?” Faith said. “I get your assumptions. It’s sort of like the assumptions about me being a teenager. And a girl. And cute. Although the scar on my cheek should be a dime for a clue, Petty Officer. I don’t even care at this point, especially not about assumptions from some No-Go sergeant who just got off the chopper. So I’ll just go on and let you assume. No reply is necessary.”
* * *
“Lieutenant Smith reporting as ordered, sir!” Faith barked as soon as she found the commander. She added a salute since she was in the vernacular, “Under arms.”
“Shewolf,” Lieutenant Commander Kinsey said, returning the salute. He was sitting at a desk that was part of a large “cube farm” and had turned around as she approached. The gunnery sergeant was at another desk, keying through an inventory. “We’re in.”
“Mr. Lawton, sir?” Faith asked, looking at the screen. All it was, from her perspective, was a mass of long numbers and strange acronyms.
“The man is a wizard,” Kinsey said, spinning back around to the screen. “Dismissed to security post, Petty Officer.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” the PO said.
“Defense Logistics Management System,” Kinsey said, pointing at the screen. “Version 9.6. Which is, amazingly, an improvement over versions one through nine point five. Fairly intuitive, easily sortable, pretty good search functions. You need to become familiar with it. From now on, all your requisitions will be by computer and we’re actually going to have an inventory control system. If for no other reason than to anticipate when we’re going to run out of stuff and get more. Logistics was never my chosen field but here I sit and I do intend to do a good job. So you can’t just grab stuff anymore, Lieutenant. Got it?”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Faith said.
“Sit down with the gunny,” Commander Kinsey said. “He’s going to fill you in on the system, then the two of you are going to figure out what you
already
grabbed and get it released properly . . .”
* * *
“The basin is double fenced and the airfield is double fenced,” Faith said, pointing at the satellite images. “Priority should be elimination of infected inside those fenced areas . . .”
It had taken thirty some-odd Marines, with occasional help from Navy nuke machinists, four
days
to get the amtracks up and running. Getting the computers hacked so they knew where the parts and tools were had helped immensely. On the other hand, she was, personally, tired and frustrated from spending most of the four days in front of a computer or in meetings. In fact there seemed to be an organized conspiracy to keep her away from the actual
work
. She knew that officers were supposed to sit in the office and handle the paperwork while the NCOs got the “real” work done. That was the point to the old saw about “I work for a living.” Officers sat in offices, note the similarity of name, and did important paperwork “stuff.” NCOs did the “real” work. But the last few days had been
insane
. Any time she put on her battle rattle and tried to exit the building, something had come up that needed her attention “right now, Lieutenant.”
And most of it just did not seem to be life and death. She hadn’t gotten so much as a
ride
in an amtrack, yet. It looked like the first ride she was going to get was on the op. The only way she knew they were up and running, other than reports, was that they’d spent what sounded like half the day, yesterday, driving them around to find any remaining faults. And most of the time it was around the headquarters building. Around and around and around honestly sounding like they were circling it. And,
damn
, were those things loud. You could barely hear yourself think.
Worst of all . . . She knew that birthdays weren’t a big deal in the military. She knew that. And she wasn’t going to bitch about getting some time off or anything. But today was her birthday. And nobody had even
mentioned
it. Not a call from her mom and da, not so much as a “Happy Birthday, Sis” from Sophia who was sitting
right there
in the freaking meeting. Nothing. Four days of nothing but paperwork and working her butt off on “Operation Rattlesnake” and nobody had even said “Thanks, Lieutenant, and happy birthday.” It sucked.
“Following airborne clearance, Marine personnel, using amphibious assault vehicles, will enter Mayport Naval Station at this boat launching ramp,” Faith continued, pointing out the ramp on the screen. “The boat launch is outside the perimeter fences. Outer perimeter fence will be breached at this gate, which has to remain in useable condition, and again here. Method on that:
“Amtrack One will move to block the gate with the rest of the team spread out to cover. Entry team will exit Amtrack One. Perform breach doing as little damage as possible. If the key reader will accept standard ID, use that. Key reader is probably nonfunctional and may be set for specific keys. Try it anyway. If that doesn’t work, then use the breacher charges. Once gate is breached and opened, Amtrack One will move inside the gate and to the side. Amtracks Two through Five will move through the gate maintaining overwatch until all personnel are inside the secure area. Close and secure gate.
“Amtracks and dismount personnel will then perform ground level sweep of the basin including sweeping all buildings for infected and survivors, then move to the airfield where they will repeat entry here and here, then sweep the airfield for ground level infected. Once the area is secure, Survey and Salvage personnel will be inserted via helicopter to the two facilities. Marine personnel will remain as security for Survey and Salvage. Amtracks One, Three and Five will remain at the airfield. Amtracks Two and Four will move back to the basin to support Sierra and Sierra on the basin.
“Assault commences at zero seven-thirty hours with departure of amtracks from Blount Island. Helo takes off at same time. Clearance of primary areas scheduled for zero eight hundred hours. amtracks should be to ramp basin by that time. Pick-up of Survey and Salvage personnel by helo currently scheduled for zero nine hundred hours depending upon security condition.
“Extract begins at sixteen-thirty hours. Extract from the airfield will be by helo with amtrack extract to the basin as a back-up for all personnel. Extract will be one flight for the Sierra and Sierra personnel, then one flight for the Marines in the airfield. Extract from the basin will be by boats and will not commence until all personnel have been successfully extracted from the airfield. Marines will leave their amtracks in place for the next day’s operation. In the event of failure of one or more of the amtracks, they are to be towed to the basin for repair if possible and removal at a later date if not possible. In the event of failure during amphibious operations, small boats will be accompanying to support the landing, standard extract to the small boats. In the event of failure of the air unit while in operation, small boats will maneuver to assist personnel if in the water and amtracks will move to assist if on the ground. If the bird can be landed lightly on the ground and isn’t sufficiently damaged to require evacuation, hunker down and we’ll come get you. In the event of overwhelming infected force, extraction will be ordered by force commander and follow same model.
“Question remains whether to permanently base on Mayport or move all stocks and materials back to Blount Island. That is to be determined based upon ongoing security conditions. Other than that, any questions?”
“Are we going to be airlifting the helos tomorrow?” Captain Wilkes asked.
“Negative,” Colonel Hamilton said. “Survey only. Security survey most importantly. Any other questions? Lieutenant.”
“Rehearsal for all operations scheduled for this afternoon, starting at thirteen hundred hours,” Faith said. “The amtracks have been briefly water tested but we’ll be moving them around in the river more and making sure they don’t sink, basically, as well as testing their ability to land on a similar ramp using one over on the civilian side. Rehearsal will involve moving upriver to the bridge island, performing amphibious landing then reenter water, move to civilian side Blount Island, perform entry using similar ramp, then we’re done. Drive back on land. Whole operation should take less than two hours. Following which is the after actions review, PMCS on vehicles and final day-before prep. Any questions?”
“Sounds good, Lieutenant,” Hamilton said. “We’ll have a working lunch before the operation, officers only, to go over any last concerns. And we’re done.”
CHAPTER 7
“So, any concerns?” Colonel Hamilton asked as they were “enjoying” lunch. One reason to get some land cleared was so people could start growing food again. Canned rations were starting to get old.
“My main concern is I’ve been so snowed under with meetings and paperwork, sir,” Faith said, picking at her food. “I’m supposed to command one of the amtracks and I’ve never even been in one that was moving, much less in the water, sir.”
“You’ve got a driver, Lieutenant,” Hamilton said. “All you have to do is point. It’s not hard. I figured it out right away when I was a nugget.”
“None of our drivers were amtrack drivers pre-Plague, sir,” Faith pointed out.
“Which is why we’re having the rehearsal, Lieutenant,” Colonel Hamilton said. “You sound like you’re taking council of your fears. That isn’t like you.”
“I’m just ready to get back into action, sir,” Faith said. “I think I’m getting better at paperwork, but you know it’s not my first love. At a certain point, it is time to shoot someone. Not getting any younger.”
“Good thing for you the chances of running out of infected any time soon are slight, Sis,” Sophia said. “No matter what we do, there’ll always be somewhere else to clear. And based on General Wa— I mean Commodore Montana, you’ve got, what, sixty more years in you?”
“Something like that,” Faith said, then looked up and around. “How old was he exactly?”
“Not too sure,” Sophia said. “He was never really clear on that. Never even found out his birthday. He never mentioned it.”
“I’m concerned that if the amtracks cannot negotiate the ramp, there are limited choices for entry,” Colonel Hamilton said, frowning.
“We can always swim out to the beach, sir,” Faith said after a moment. “There are some issues about the tides but even if the tide is against us we can probably make it in and out.”
“Good thing we’ve got a nice, clear beach,” Colonel Hamilton said. “You’re not a real Marine till you’ve hit the beach. Maybe if we get it clear enough, we can get some time off and have a beach party again.”
Faith tried not to sigh.
* * *
“I don’t always get along with Faith,” Sophia said, her face working. “But I really was starting to feel like I was pulling the wings off a fly at lunch.”
“Which is why you kept bringing up age, right?” Captain Wilkes said, grinning. “I was just waiting for her to burst out ‘Does anyone at all remember it’s my birthday?’”
“Me too,” Sophia said. “She’s actually starting to exhibit self-control. Which is, like,
bizarre
.”
* * *
“Thataway, Freeman!” Faith said, pointing at the river.
She’d finally gotten to ride in an amtrack. She still wasn’t sure she was enjoying the experience. The fucker was loud as hell and made about a bazillion weird noises. Faster on land than she expected, too. Now she was going to get to find out if it floated.
The track nosed down the bank alongside one of the unused piers. It was actually in the docking port right by the river, on the easternmost point of the island. The
Alexandria
was tied up across the basin and a bunch of the crew were out on the deck of the sub to watch the amtracks sink.
The driver gunned the engine and drove down into the water. Faith was up in the TC hatch, confidently expecting she’d have to put the inflatable life vest to good use. She was putting a game face on things, but she really didn’t think something made of steel and the size and general shape of an ocean-going Winnebago had any chance of floating.
It floated. Remarkably enough. Once the tracks were clear of the ground, Freeman opened up the water-jet drive, really just a couple of propellers, and cranked that puppy up to its blistering top speed of seven knots.
She looked over and back to check the bilge pump. It was pumping but not much. Good that it appeared to be working. “Not much” could mean it wasn’t working well or, remarkably, they weren’t taking on much water.
She ducked down in the TC hatch and looked at the Marines in the cargo, sorry, “troop,” compartment.
“How’s the leakage?” she yelled.
Sergeant Hocieniec made an “OK” sign. She could barely see him by the weird, green-brown light filtered through the water and let in by view-ports in the interior.
She shook her head and got back up in the TC hatch. So far, so good.
And it wasn’t a bad day. Sky was clear. Temperatures were fairly balmy. And they were boating in a not-tank that was sticking all of ten inches, in places, out of the water. Amtracks were kind of like icebergs that way, with ninety percent below the water line.
The amtrack had cleared the small harbor and she used her left hand to knock her right upwards, then outwards to the west.
“TO ZEE LUMBER YARD!” she radioed, her arm jutting out as if mechanical. “TAKING ZEE BEACHES VE ARE! UND VE’LL HAFF SOME STREUDEL UND SOME SHERRY . . .”
* * *
“Looks like she’s getting her mojo back, over,” Januscheitis radioed on an encrypted frequency.
“We should have done it
before
she got to ride in the amtracks,”
Gunny Sands replied.
“I’ll get with the colonel on finding something to bring her down. Out . . .”
* * *
“Ground Force Commander, Force Ops, over.”
“Ground Force, over,” Faith replied.
“Reminder from higher to maintain radio protocol, over.”
Faith growled and glared balefully at the water for a moment.
“Roger, Force Ops.”
“Force Ops, out.”
“Son of a
bitch
. I need something to shoot.” She switched to intercom. “Twitchman! Any zombies in sight?”
“Negative, ma’am,” PFC Twitchell replied. “No targets.”
“Give me a target,” Faith said, clasping her hands and looking at the sky. “Please. It’s my birthday . . .”
* * *
“Force Ops, Ground Force,” Faith radioed. “Ready to try the ramp landing, over.”
Good news. Still nice weather. Amtracks could make it up to the island, onto the island, around the island, off the island, back onto the island, across the island, back off the island . . . The things they were told to do got longer and longer and screwier and screwier while Sophia circled in her bird probably laughing her ass off and half the base seemed to have turned up in Zodiacs.
Bad news: Force ops had been on her
ass
all afternoon, at least half of it relayed from the colonel. And she hadn’t seen any valid targets. She’d considered having Twitchman shoot up some of the gators that infested the area, but since they were basically part of the island’s defenses that seemed counterproductive.
They’d, finally, “completed all certification tasks” and were now up for the last task of the day: pulling up on the relatively narrow boat launch ramp.
The boat launch, probably to support the many outboard boats a port like this needed, was nearly at the back side of the island by the older Blount Island Boulevard Bridge. And it was narrow compared to the amtrack.
“Freeman, if you miss the ramp I am going to turn the matter over to the gunny,” Faith said. “Who will use nearly fifteen years of experience making you regret it.”
“I will not miss the ramp, ma’am,” Freeman said. He lined up on it and pulled forward, tracks churning. As the tracks grabbed, the amtrack heaved itself out of the water for about the hundredth time that day and pulled easily up the concrete ramp.
The other four followed like baby ducks, one after another.
Faith could practically hear the sarcastic applause from the circling helo. Why they couldn’t have sent it off to rescue people she had no idea. It was part of the “emergency assistance plan” the colonel had insisted on.
“Force Ops, Ground,” Faith radioed. “All tasks complete. Ramp exit successful. RTB, over.”
“Stand by, Ground Ops,”
Force replied.
“Hold position for further task . . .”
“Aaaah!” Faith shouted, grinding her teeth. “What
now
?”
“Ground, Force Ops, over.”
“Ground Force, over,” Faith said sweetly.
“Admin task. Pick up critical inventory hardcopy, civilian side, Building Fourteen.”
* * *
Colonel Hamilton was trying to maintain his composure watching the retrans from the helo above. Faith was banging her helmet on the upper deck of the amtrack. Then she threw her arms in the air wildly, banged on the top deck with both hands and finally keyed the microphone.
“Roger, Force Ops,”
the lieutenant said in a remarkably sweet voice.
“Which section, over?”
“Stand by for steers, over,” the petty officer said, then looked at the colonel.
“Take her and the group all over the civilian side,” Colonel Hamilton said. “Make sure that you make it as confusing as possible and repeatedly have it seem to be, or at least convey that it is, her fault.”
“Roger, sir,” the petty officer said, shaking his head. “Remind me never to get on your cruel side, sir.”
“I want her thoroughly pissed off when she gets to the building,” Colonel Hamilton said. “I need to go. Make it good.”
* * *
“Ground force, order was turn
left
, over.”
“This is left!” Faith replied. Because of all the cars and other vehicles in the way, there were few direct routes to the building. It was like trying to negotiate a maze. Especially the way that Force Ops was taking them. “And the damned building is
that
way! I
know
you can see me from the helo! It’s
that
way!”
“Left from the angle of the helicopter, over . . .”
* * *
“I
did
turn right!”
“You wanted steers from
your
angle, Ground Force . . .”
* * *
“God I wish I was there,” Commodore Montana said, laughing. Getting started in the Pacific had him as busy as a one-armed paperhanger, but he was willing to take time for this. “If there wasn’t something nice at the end of this, she
would
kill someone.”
“I hope everybody is behind cover when she gets there is all,” Lieutenant Lyons said, shaking his head. “She is armed.”
“Lieutenant Smith is
always
armed, Lieutenant,” the commodore said. “She sleeps with a gun
and
a knife under her pillow. Even
I
only sleep with a gun.”
“I won’t ask how you know that, sir.”
* * *
“Ma’am?”
Januscheitis radioed in a dubious voice.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer me to lead the convoy, ma’am? Some of the troops are getting a little concerned. We’re heading completely away from Fourteen at the moment, ma’am.”
“This is
not
my fault, Staff Sergeant,” Faith radioed as they had to turn around, again! “I’m getting my steers to Building Fourteen from
Ops
!”
“Yes, ma’am, but we can
see
Building Fourteen from here . . .”
* * *
“Oh, J,”
the gunny radioed.
“Nice salt in the wounds! ‘I’m not saying you’re lost, LT, but you’re lost, LT.’”
“Thanks,” Januscheitis replied. “Just want it to be special . . .”
* * *
“Get the helo up a little higher,” General Brice said, laughing so hard tears were coming out of her eyes. “I wanna see how close she is to the objective . . .”
“We are cruel, cruel, people,” Undersecretary Galloway said.
“All in a good cause, sir,” General Brice said. “All in a good cause. Lieutenants need a certain amount of frustration in their lives so they can handle being generals and dealing with politicians.”
“Touché, General,” Galloway said. “Touché.”
* * *
“GAWWWWWDAMNIT, OPS! I’M JUST GOING TO DRIVE
OVER
THESE FUCKING
CARS
! I CAN
SEE
BUILDING FOURTEEN!”
* * *
“Colonel,” Steve said over the video link. “I believe we have tortured my daughter enough. She is armed and not particularly self-disciplined. Let her pick up the ‘paperwork’ before she drives back and opens fire on the
Tan
. And
everyone
higher wants me to reiterate that they had
better
see her face when she opens the door.”
“Concur, sir,” Colonel Hamilton said. “We’ve got the camera pointed
right
at it.” He keyed the portable radio and assumed a stern voice. “Force Ops, Force Commander! The unit needs to turn
left
, there, not right! Ground Force, Force Commander!”
“Ground Force,”
Faith said in a defeated voice.
“Follow
own
direction to Building Fourteen,” Hamilton said. “Critical paperwork in main hangar area. Door on the south side marked nine has been breached. Paperwork is Federal Inventories, Special Materials, Top Secret. Ground Force Commander and Ground Force Commander only to observe. Read back, over.”
“Main hangar area, aye,”
Faith said dispiritedly.
“Door on south marked nine entry, aye. Ground Force Commander only, aye.”
“Just get it
done
,” Hamilton radioed sternly. “A simple errand should
not
have taken this long, Ground Force. ForceCom, out.”
“There is one, last, issue, sir,” Gunny Sands said, from over his shoulder. The helo was carefully following the movement of the Marine convoy as it approached the building.
