“Lot more ‘I’ve got a better plan, get out of the way…’ Sergeant,” Lance Corporal Saul said.
“There was that,” Weisskopf admitted. “But some of them had their act together. Some of it was actually helpful. A lot, really. Face it, a CEO is sort of a civilian general and sometimes you need that.”
“Some of them were just people who were rich,” Faith said, shrugging. “Some of them were people who got that way through being smart. Even retired CEOs tend to know how to get shit done. Probably a situation of too many cooks but that’s a problem for the Dutch authorities on the island.”
“I guess I need to go check in with the colonel,” Faith said, finishing off her light meal. “Training day is gonna be—”
“Ma’am,” Corporal Douglas said. He’d entered the mess compartment, looked around and made a bee line to her table. “Colonel would like to see you at your convenience.”
“I was just headed that way, Derk,” Faith said, standing up. “Gonna be another oorah day in the Marine Corps, Marines.”
“Oorah, ma’am,” Sergeant Weisskopf said, grinning.
“I’ll get your tray, ma’am,” Derek said. “I’m pretty sure from his tone ‘at your convenience’ meant ‘double time.’ And he sent word for the gunny, your sister and that Dutch Marine sergeant. It’s a general ‘right now’ call.”
“I’ll let you take it, then,” Faith said, frowning. That list made sense for the training day but the urgency didn’t.
“Go right in,” Sandra said. The refugee had taken over as the colonel’s administrative assistant. “Something’s up.”
“Reporting as ordered, sir,” Faith said.
The Grace Tan was big but it was also crowded and not really set up as a command and control ship. The colonel’s office wasn’t much bigger than her closet. If the people on the plasma had been in it, her da, General Brice and the NCCC, there wouldn’t have been room for Faith. And that meant something was up. It was zero four hundred Omaha time. They weren’t there to kibbitz on the training of the locals.
“Think you’re standing, Faith,” Colonel Hamilton said. “We won’t be long. Captain?”
“We just got a priority extraction,” Steve said. “Doehler, show them the image.”
The faces were replaced by a satellite image of a burned-out city. It was big and had a river running through it was all Faith could tell. It looked familiar but she couldn’t place it. The image zoomed down and held on some sort of fort or castle by the river. In the middle of the courtyard—there was some other word for it but Faith couldn’t dredge it up from memory—was a sign picked out in white rocks that read: “HRH.” A group of men were standing by the sign. Two of them were holding up a white cardboard sign with more writing.
The view zoomed again and it was clearer.
The sign said “Remaining rations:…days.” There was a “60” crossed out, then a “30” and now a “7.”
And the person standing by the sign, his face up and pointed at the passing satellite, was very recognizable. Also very thin. But Prince Harry of Wales, just possibly King of England, was alive.
“How old is this?” Colonel Hamilton asked.
“The pass was yesterday,” General Brice replied. “And for those who don’t recognize it, that is the Tower of London. The following is not for discussion. Task Force Kodiak will halt all sweeps in the Caribbean, proceed immediately to Guantanamo to pick up Marine and Navy helo forces, then proceed directly to London to effect extraction of His Royal Highness and his bodyguards.”
“What kind of helos do we have?” Colonel Hamilton asked.
“We’ve got a CH-53 up and running,” Steve replied. “We’ll put a Seahawk aboard as deck cargo. It’s ninety percent there and Lieutenant Szafranski assures me they can get it up by the time you get there. We’ll have the Shivak accompany you in case something happens to the Grace. If worse comes to worst, you can all pack into the Shivak. The Grace’s helipad is rated for a bird the size of a 53. The only pause will be ensuring that it’s up to its rating and to take on fuel and supplies. You’ll take onboard all the helo support people and then steam out. Can you refuel there?”
“Not yet,” Colonel Hamilton said.
“Well, we’ve got the fueling dock up and running,” Steve said. “Sergeant Roosevelt.”
“Sir?” Sergeant Roosevelt said.
“You were Dutch commando trained, is that correct?” Steve said.
“Yes, sir,” Roosevelt replied. “I was in MARSOF for eight years, sir. MARSOF is what it was called these days, sir.”
“That includes significant air-assault training?” Steve asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“All of the infantry Marines have air-assault training but it is limited,” Steve said. “I cannot order you and your men to accompany this mission but there is a second one that is almost as high priority and will need significant air-assault training in the run-up. We need your expertise, badly.”
“That will leave this island with a group of…untrained refugees of questionable nature to defend it, sir,” Roosevelt said, frowning.
“We’ll leave a Navy security team to defend it as well as the POL people who are also combat trained,” Steve said. “And we really need your expertise. For that matter, the secondary mission could use your people’s help as well.”
“What is the secondary mission, sir?” Colonel Hamilton asked.
“Doehler, research institute,” General Brice said.
The image swerved to a building in London. Although much of the city had burned, that portion was still intact. The fires had just missed it by a couple of streets.
“This is the London Research Institute,” General Brice said. “It was primarily a cancer research facility but it also did other biological research. And cancer research uses the same materials you need for vaccine production. We had been looking at an insertion into USAMRIID, Bethesda or Johns Hopkins, all of which might have gel and all of which are near the ocean. However, since you’re going to London anyway…
“Marine forces with supplementary materials experts will be performing an air assault on this facility with the primary purpose of extracting vaccine production materials as well as the usual ‘get anything that’s useful medically’ out of it. That is after you have rescued the prince. And that, Sergeant, is why we need you and your people. That’s a big damned building in the middle of a city and we can see some of the doors are still opened. It’s liable to be crawling with infected and will have to be extensively searched for materials.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the sergeant said, clearly less than thrilled to have to tell a general no. “I can see the importance of both missions, General. However, the problem of the security of…General, this is all that remains of the Dutch holdings, ma’am. Leaving it unsecured…”
“Sergeant Major Barney will absolutely flip being left behind on this one,” Steve said. “But he’s getting left behind. Sergeant, we will leave two Naval security teams and the sergeant major to ensure the security of your island and train the local militia. I would leave either Faith or Sophia so you could have some personal assurances that I’m not going to let pirates or infected take it over. But one is our ‘materials expert’ and the other is our Marine Platoon Leader. They both have to go. And, Sergeant, I’m sending my daughters out across a massive and very violent, wreck-filled, ocean, in winter, to perform this mission. That is how important we all gauge it. Nothing is going to happen, further, to Sint Eustatius. Not on my watch. If for no other reason than we’re going to need that POL.”