“Back to the main base road, hang a right, couple of miles up on the right.”
“Kirby, find us a place to turn around…”
“Team Two, Clearance Ops.”
The sun was sinking in the west and Faith had been half wondering when they’d get the call. Clearance on boats was a day or night proposition. Didn’t really matter when you were in the bowels of a ship. Clearing on land, zombies could come at you from any direction. The plan had been to suspend at sunset.
“Team Two,” Faith replied. They’d found fifteen survivors in addition to the “survival centers.” Most of them were dependents, a couple of civilian workers and two Navy storesmen. They’d found one Marine, the only survivor of a team sent out to shut down and redirect some of the water mains. He’d holed up in the base club with a group of dependents that hadn’t made it to the survival center. Fortunately, they’d left the water on to the base club.
“Suspend clearance,” Ops radioed. “Return to piers for evac.”
“Roger, Ops,” Faith said and switched frequencies. “Janu, we’re done for the day. Turning around and heading for the pier.”
“Roger,” Staff Sergeant Januscheitis replied.
What they hadn’t seen in the last two hours was infected. The combination of the gunboats and their own sweeps appeared to have run them out of town.
“This job is getting boring,” Faith said, dropping into the seat in the five-ton. “I’m ready for a serious scrum.”
“Ma’am, with due respect, knowing your father there’s all sorts of scrums we’re going to get into in the future,” PFC Kirby said.
“There’s that,” Faith said, crossing her arms. “But I’m named Faith not Patience. At least I’m not doing paperwork….”
“…proceeded…through…base…housing…area…four…” Faith typed, laboriously, with two fingers, her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth. “Re…covered…four…survivors… God, I hate reports!”
“Oh, nummy, nummy,” Sophia said as she pulled up to the dock. “Nummy nummy Navy preprepared rations. What a treat!”
“I can do many things with these, ma’am,” Batari said.
“Getting them loaded is going to be the interesting part,” Sophia said. She had two pregnant crewmen. Very pregnant at this point. “We’ll have to…” She paused as the radio squawked.
“Bella Senorita, Flotilla.”
“Bella Senorita,” Sophia said, handling the radio as she pulled up to the dock.
“Change of orders. Stop replenishment ops and proceed to the Boadicea. Master to meet with Squadron Commander.”
“Frack,” Sophia said, backing the boat. “Cancel replenishment, aye. Report Squadron Commander, aye. You hear that everybody?” She keyed the loudhailer. “We just had a change of mission. See you guys later!”
“Check-in time with Dad?” Walker asked.
“I have no clue,” Sophia said. But she had a sinking feeling she did.
“Bella Senorita, Flotilla.”
“Bella Senorita.”
“Additional orders: Crewman Thomas Walker, report Squadron Commander.”
“Have you been bad, Thomas?” Sophia asked.
“I was born bad, miss.”
CHAPTER 8
“…WAS THE WRATH OF ALLAH UPON THE UNHOLY INFIDELS AND THE APOSTATE WHO CALLED THEMSELVES THE CHILDREN OF ALLAH…”
“Ensign Smith reporting as ordered with party of one,” Sophia said, saluting.
“Have a seat Ensign,” Steve said, waving to the chair. “And Mr. Walker of course.”
“Bit of deja vu,” Walker said, grinning.
“We have Gitmo,” Steve said. “Marines reported essentially no resistance by fifteen hundred hours. So now we’ve got to see if the main hospital is as good as promised. You two will be part of the ‘special survey’ team entering the hospital tomorrow morning to look for vaccine production materials. Right now I’m holding off on your identity as the vaccine production expert. But you’re going to have to partially break cover tomorrow. CDC has sent a list of materials they think you’ll need based on needs, wants and desires. You know what most of it is at least; I can’t make heads or tails of it.” He slid a sheet across the table.
“Better than I’d have written,” Sophia said, looking at the list. “Some of the stuff I wasn’t sure what you called it. The filter stuff is going to be critical.”
“Dr. Dobson will be up on a satellite video link through a laptop courtesy of some of the Navy people and Mr. Lawton,” Steve said. “If you can’t figure out whether something is useable or what it is, he can advise.”
“Yes, sir,” Sophia said.
“Mr. Walker, I’d appreciate your support in this as well,” Steve said.
“Captain, when I signed on I put myself under your de jure command,” Walker said. “If you were asking me to do something clearly illegal, then I’d have to think about it. Absent that, you’re the commander, Captain. You don’t have to tap dance about giving me orders.”
“I appreciate that,” Steve said drily. “We’re also going to be stripping the hospital of general medical supplies, equipment and medicine. That will be your area, primarily. Although everything is potentially useful, items related to obstetrics are high on my personal list of priorities.”
“Understood,” Walker said.
“You’ll be working with Dr. Chang through the same sort of link,” Steve said. “Brief is at zero five thirty tomorrow morning in Conference Room One. Just bring your entry gear with you. Do either of you have body armor?”
“I think I’ll skip it, sir,” Sophia said. “It’s only of use against bouncers. I’d rather wear Tyvek if that’s permitted.”
“Up to you,” Steve said. “The Marines are going to be providing security and clearance so you should be able to do this in short sleeves.”
“What’s your status, Sergeant?” Staff Sergeant Barnard asked, sticking her head in the door of the cabin.
The Marines had been assigned cabins in “Marine Country” on the cruise liner. Sheila was sharing a room with Sergeant Cutter from Building Eighteen but this was the lap of luxury compared to the “Survival Centers.”
Hoag was enjoying sybaritic pleasures like a working flush toilet, a shower with currently no water restriction and a real, honest-to-goodness comfortable rack. She knew as a Marine she should be all about Spartan but it would be damned nice to be able to lay her head down in an almost private room and snore the snore of the just. She wasn’t sure what to do with the rest of her three day pass but she’d heard there was a spa. She was seriously thinking massage.
“I just had my first shower in six months, Staff Sergeant,” Hoag said, grinning. “My status is glorious, thank you. I was just trying to decide whether to hit the gym or grab some chow.”
“Unfortunately, we just caught a mission,” Barnard said.
“Oh come…” Hoag started to say, then stopped. She was a Marine and there was only one thing to say. “Aye, aye, Staff Sergeant.”
“Sorry, Sheila,” Barnard said. “I know we were supposed to get three days off but just about everybody is getting tasked. At least Marines. Too many jobs.”