“You’d already thought of it, sir,” Faith said.
“The definition of intelligence is generally said to be when someone has the same idea you have,” Hamilton said. “I’ve found it to be when someone has a better idea. But you’re getting there….”
“Hi, folks,” Hamilton said, looking through the plexiglass. There was an intercom with a hand mike set up. “I’m Colonel Hamilton, commander of Kodiak Force. Sorry I haven’t made it down here before now. You all nominal?”
“Nominal, Colonel,” Commander Daniels said, sticking up a thumb.
“Now that we’ve got the plasma running, we’re working on getting you up on video with the Hole and suchlike,” Hamilton said. “We also took the time to extract the seats from the capsule. Doctor, do you think those would be preferable if we can decontaminate them?”
“How contaminated are they?” Dr. Price asked.
“We used the same protocols to recover them that we used to extract you,” Hamilton said. “They’re in the five-ton, which you can’t see is still parked right behind the container. We’re just not sure if it’s worth the risk. On the other hand, the bedding you are on just came off the cleanest boats we could find that didn’t appear to have been opened since the plague broke out. We cleaned the hell out of them, obviously, but…Those have a higher likelihood of contagion than your capsule seats.”
“More wonderful news,” Dr. Price said. “The seats would be preferable. They’re conformal and we actually need to be somewhat vertical to get our bodies adjusted to gravity.”
“I’ll have them moved in next shift,” Hamilton said. “For general information on the progress of any potential contagion, our experience is that most people who turn start to do so in the first several weeks after exposure. According to Dr. Dobson at the CDC, with your reduced immune systems, that’s more like three to five days. So if you’re going to turn we should know in a week or so. I’m not trying to be depressing with that. Simply the realities of current existence.”
“Understood,” Dr. Price said. “We’d discussed on the station what was likely when we landed.”
“We’d discussed simply reentering more or less at random,” Commander Daniels said. “But the Hole assured us that all we’d find is infected.”
“It really is all gone?” Rizwana said.
“It is,” Hamilton said, simply. “This is the first place we’ve cleared that you reasonably can walk around with minimal arms and security. And it took a heck of a lot to make it that way.”
“Even looking at the view at night,” Tom said, shaking his head. “It’s hard to believe.”
“It’s like that for people who were in enclosed spaces, even lifeboats,” Hamilton said. “Cognitive dissonance and denial are fairly normal responses in the current environment. I was in a warehouse. When you can go out at night and there is not a light to be seen and no humans but infected…it’s easier to believe and understand.”
“Do you have family, Colonel?” Rizwana asked. “We have a daughter in England.”
“Point of protocol is that that’s generally not a subject of discussion,” Hamilton said. “But since you did ask, I had to kill my wife and son, ma’am.”
“Oh, my Lord, Colonel,” the physicist said, her hand over her mouth. “I am sorry for…” she shook her head again.
“And that is why the subject of family is generally off-limits, Doctor,” Hamilton said.
“What is the plan for us when we’re recovered?” Matveev asked.
“You’re probably all headed back to Gitmo,” Hamilton said. “If you wish to help out, that’s where you’re most likely to be of help. We’re on a rather specific mission. But back to Gitmo is the plan.”
“What is going on there?” Tom Shelley asked. “I assume that the detainees have been released?”
“None of the detainees made it,” Hamilton said. “At the point that we were trying to manage their extraction, things pretty much fell apart. I’m assuming the few who were resistant were eaten by the rest or died in their cells of dehydration or starvation. It was not intentional, there was more effort put into securing the detainees than other, arguably more vital, issues. Like a lot of things, it just didn’t work out. At the time I was handling other issues. Family among others. Guantanamo Bay is currently our only land base and it’s not even fully secure, from what I’ve been getting. They’re trying to get helos operational as well as building zombie traps. That’s where all the building is happening and with the exception of Mr. Lyons, it’s assumed that you all would prefer to be builders rather than this rather nasty but necessary destruction.”
“Am I being reactivated, sir?” Troy asked, his eyes narrowing.
“Not if you are resistant, Mr. Lyons,” Hamilton said. “Your mechanical expertise would be quite useful on the civilian side. But I’ve got a thirteen-year-old running my Marines and a fifteen-year-old running my Naval Landing Parties. Competently or they wouldn’t be doing so. But you’ll understand that I’m not going to turn down the help of a former Naval Special Warfare officer if it’s offered.”
“I’m not exactly in shape at the moment,” Lyons said, raising his arm with some difficulty.
“That is what food and exercise are for, Mr. Lyons,” Hamilton said. “My only gunnery sergeant, who is not here unfortunately, had to be carried off the Iwo Jima. He is currently again leading PT at Gitmo. Although they go running in combat gear since they occasionally run into infected who have penetrated the fences.”
“You have helos,” Kuznetsov said. “Do you have other aircraft?”
“The helos are yet to be certified for flight,” Hamilton said. “That is where a good bit of my Marines are, working on them. As to other aircraft, there are no current plans to get airplanes working. The only strip we could use is Gitmo and possibly here. And we have virtually no mechanics qualified to work on most of them. Obviously, if we’re talking about a Cessna, any of the Marine mechanics could fix one up.”
“Any of us could fix one up,” Commander Daniels said. “Well, most of us. And drive them.”
“Captain Smith is concentrated on helos,” Hamilton said thoughtfully. “There are planes at this airstrip. The ones at Gitmo are either too large to be viable—there’s a Hercules there—or too complex. Most of the rest are corporate jets. But I suspect there are some smaller ones here. Probably not worth the effort, though. We don’t do much in the way of reconnaissance and that would be about their only real utility.”
“Critical parts and supplies?” Commander Daniels said.
“Scavenge and kludge,” Hamilton replied.
“Seriously?” Lyons said.
“Pretty much what we do,” Hamilton said. “Captain Smith noted to me that his master’s thesis was on the Siege of Malta and the many work-arounds that were used to keep their aircraft flying. He holds the opinion that letting people scrounge in a situation like this, if not at will then widely, is more effective than trying to do everything by the book. So far it’s working, so I suppose my boss has a point. It’s a decidedly eccentric one, however.”
“What about medical evacuation?” Dr. Price said.
“The most serious issue we’ve had on this float was an AD,” Hamilton said. “Which was an abdominal through and through.”
“Ouch,” Troy said. “What happened?”
“As Lieutenant Smith said when I asked, we’re taking undertrained Marines mixed with trained ones, few of them infantry MOS, and throwing them out into a chaotic environment,” Hamilton said. “The short answer is one of them swept his buddy and jerked the trigger in panic. Mr. Walker—whose medical training was an intense but brief course thirty-some-odd years ago and about three years experience putting bandages on pimples—then opened him up like a trout and stitched everything back together as best he could remember. I’m given to understand he had someone hold open a copy of Gray’s Anatomy while he was working.”