With that, they'd had him hooked. Command the naval portion of an amphibious assault? My so-far-frustrated life's ambition? Be still my heart. Where do I sign? I've only got the one firstborn child. Can I offer you a couple of grandchildren?
Still, it's going to be a bitch, Ed thought, glancing up at the gantry. Sure, the thing will move back and forward, but not one inch further back than to reach the middle of a twenty foot container parked in front of the superstructure. That still means that a plane taking off from just forward of that is going to have to pass under the gantry before going airborne. Cruz says he can do it-says any good small plane pilot could do it-and that, in any case, these planes are really short take off.
But I'm mighty glad I won't be in any of those planes. And, if they really decide to load out the Pilatus', taking off a PC-6 through that window is going to be hairy, even if they won't have to land again.
Note to self: Talk Stauer out of trying to launch the PC-6s from the ship; be bad on the paint job.
And speaking of landing, those Hips are best put on the back deck. And there they're going to be tight as shit. And the Chinese still haven't put in the fuel tanks and pump. Yeah, they're working on it. That, and the check's in the mail and I won't come . . .
Kosciusko became aware of a small presence standing behind him and slightly to his right. He turned and saw the tiny boss of the Chinese crew that was doing the modifications. The Chinese spoke English rather well.
"Yes, Mr. Chin?" Ed asked.
The Chinese sighed. "It used to be Captain Chin, you know, skipper."
Ed gave a small sympathetic nod. He'd had enough of the Chinese's background to have guessed it. That, and that the man had been beached a few years before Ed, himself, had.
Chin looked at the deck and said, "You know, skipper, that you are building this thing into a clandestine assault carrier is so obvious to anyone who really looks that I'm surprised you haven't had us paint "USN" in tiny letters all over the thing."
Ed's eyes flew wide. It wasn't obvious. He was sure it wasn't.
Chin smiled and said, "Imagine, Captain Kosciusko, that you are a poor country with a rebellious province on, say, an island far out at sea. Imagine further that the greatest power in the world-a great and hostile power-had a fleet sitting between you and said rebellious province. How might you consider getting a military force to that island in a way your great adversary would be unlikely to discern? Might you, say, consider using merchant vessels rigged out to transport troops and aircraft? Might you then, say . . . "
Kosciusko understood then. "That's what you used to do in the Chinese Navy," he said, definitively.
"Yesss, skipper," Chin nodded. "For the last dozen years of my service, anyway. And that is why it is so obvious that you are doing the same . . . except that I doubt you intend to take on Taiwan. Now, Captain Kosciusko, I have seen your plans and if I may offer some useful suggestions?"
"What do you want from it?" Ed asked.
"Not much," Chin replied. "Enough money to get a fishing yawl somewhere else than the PRC, and that you take me and a dozen of my crew with you when you go. Us, and our families. Our families are small, what with the one child policy they used to enforce here."
"I don't know about that," Ed answered.
"The alternative . . ." Chin left the thought hanging.
"Let me contact my principal."
"Tell him my select crew is all composed of long service regulars with the Peoples' Liberation Army Navy. We will be useful."
"One question, Mr. Chin," Ed emphasized the "Mr." to remind the Chinese that a ship could have only one captain. "You're a seaman. Why didn't you just grab a ship with your men and leave?"
"And do what? We had no money to set up again somewhere else. Assuming the PLAN wouldn't have simply sunk us at sea. See . . . I probably know just a little too much to let go."
"Fair enough. Why leave?"
Chin sighed, wearily and hopelessly. "Captain, I am a communist. Do you know what communism means here now? It means that high party cadres are able to shunt tremendous wealth to their children. It means nothing else. And I want out. It will be bad enough living under capitalism, I suppose. But it can't be as bad as living under industrial feudalism pretending it's communism."
Chin's face grew wry. "Why, captain, do you suppose I'm not commanding a ship right now? Because all the commands are going to the children of high party cadres, that's why.
"So, no thanks."
"You realize," Ed said, "that there will probably be no more viscerally anti-communist group under the sun than the one you would be working with."
Chin shrugged. "Are they hypocrites about it, Captain?
The corners of Kosciusko's mouth bent down as he shook his head no.
"Then I would relish it."
"I'll ask," Kosciusko agreed.
"I can ask for no more," Chin said. "And, since I can see no reason for your principal not to agree to accept a baker's dozen highly trained and competent seamen, I have the following suggestion: You have us welding in two large areas of "hull reinforcement." It's not necessary. Yes, you need a mess and planning deck. But for passageways and such, there's no reason we can't make a normal configuration of containers and simply cut side passages through them. We can also, if you or your principal will pay for lumber, build stairs and ladders to access a second level of containers. I don't think we'll need three levels."
"You think?"
"Yes, Captain. And while we're on the subject, your storage arrangements are suboptimal. There is no reason to have all the food immediately accessible. We can dump containers over the side, if necessary, to get at food needed later. And, on that note, you need to add a magnetic attachment to the crane, a rather powerful one. Fortunately, Hangzhou Permanent Magnet Group, Limited, makes them. I can get you a good deal; I have a cousin-the capitalist bastard-who works for them. Moreover, your medical plan doesn't seem to include a decent way to get the wounded down to the facilities. I suggest moving it . . . "
"To where?" Ed asked.
"Superstructure. We don't have time to put in elevators to bring the wounded down to the lower levels."
Kosciusko nodded. "Let me make a phone call."
Although there were a couple of hundred workers involved in refitting the ship, only thirteen of them were clustered, twelve and Chin, at the base of the superstructure, when Kosciusko emerged from making his call. Of those, he didn't know how many spoke English. Probably none of them as well as Chin does, he thought.
"You're in," Ed announced, without fanfare. "But you're in until the operation is past and everyone is dispersed. And you won't know what the operation is until we are well at sea and you've all been strip searched for communication devices."
"Our families?" Chin asked.
"Can your wives cook?"
"We have, among the thirteen of us, eleven wives. Two of them are nurses. One, Mrs. Lin, is a doctor, a surgeon. One is a machinist. Another is an accountant. There is a small engine-" Chin stopped momentarily, struggling for the word-"repairer? No, that's not quite right. Repairman? But she's not a man. Anyway, she fixes little engines. Plus a highly skilled welder." He pointed at one of his sailors. "And Liu here's wife is a superb freight crane operator. My wife is a naval intelligence analyst. The remaining two can, I suppose, cook."
"Then they're in, too."