Faith pulled a set of cans off a hook and put them on.
“Hello? Jolly good to see you, Yanks. Captain Carl Whiteshead, First Royal Rifles. Over.”
“Lieutenant Faith Smith, United States Marine Corps,” Faith replied. “Plan is as follows. We have supplies in case you wish to leave a token force. Land on Tower Green, unload security element, unload supplies, load refugees. Given the numbers we’re seeing here, at least two lift sorties. Then the last of the last go out. We cannot guarantee resupply any time in the next six months. So we’re bringing in one year’s supply for twenty people. All we can loft. You’re going to need to figure out if anyone stays and if so who. Is that all clear, over?”
“Roger. Define security element, over.”
“One squad of Marines to assist with loading of refugees, over.”
“Understood. Be aware, you will be under guns until we determine you are, in fact, United States Marines. Over.”
Faith looked at Januscheitis. He nodded and mouthed “Makes sense.”
“Understood,” Faith replied. “Make sure all your personnel know to stay away from the rotors at the rear. It would be a real bitch to spread some of your people all over the walls if they walk into them. Clear the Green and we’re inbound.”
“We’re clearing it, now. Come ahead. Out.”
“Captain Wilkes?” Faith said, switching to intercom.
“Preparing to land,” Colonel Kuznetsov said. “Thirty seconds.”
“On your feet, Marines,” Faith shouted, waving for the Marines to stand up. She took off the cans, put on her helmet, then grinned at Januscheitis. “This is the good part.”
“I’m not counting chickens till they’re all in the boat, ma’am,” Januscheitis said, buckling his own helmet. “Remember to stay away from the rotors yourself, ma’am!”
“Roger,” Faith said, holding the stanchion in a death grip as the helo slowly crested the walls of the Tower. She was fine high for some reason. A thousand feet was just sort of surreal. Fifty feet scared the shit out of her. They were low enough she could see the sentries on the walls clearly and was surprised that they were Oriental. Her innate and highly trained paranoia went off like an alarm bell and she started tapping her pistol.
“Ma’am?” Januscheitis said. He could read her like a book.
“The guards!” Faith shouted, pointing. “They’re not English!”
Januscheitis peered at the one guard in sight suspiciously, then grinned.
“Your knife, ma’am!” the Marine shouted as they flared out.
“What?” Faith yelled.
“Gurkhas!” Januscheitis shouted. “They’re Gurkhas!” He leaned over and tapped the lieutenant’s kukri.
“Oh,” Faith said, walking down the ramp.
One thing that her da had told her, years ago, was that Gurkhas did not like just anyone carrying a kukri. You had to earn it. In their opinion.
“Oh…crap!”
“Lieutenant Faith Smith, United States Marine Corps,” Faith said, saluting the captain. He wasn’t the prince. From his rank tabs, he was the guard unit commander. “Captain Whiteshead, I guess?”
“Yes, Lieutenant,” Whiteshead said, returning the salute. “Although shouldn’t it be ‘I presume’?”
“I’m not sure, sir,” Faith said. “I speak American and Australian, sir, but I’m still working on British. We ready to get unloaded? And are you planning on leaving a contingent?”
“Yes, we are, Lieutenant,” Whiteshead said, clearly bemused by the reply. “And we’re prepared to unload immediately.”
“Gunny!” Faith bellowed, turning around. “Hook in and get those stores moved!”
“Aye, aye, ma’am!” Gunny Sands said. “Start unpacking, Marines!”
A line of civilians and military, mostly the Gurkhas, started unloading the food, a combination of MREs, “humanitarian service packs” and canned rations.
“What’s your preference for moving out your personnel, sir?” Faith said, waving to get away from the still cycling helo.
“We’d prefer to load the women and children, first,” Whiteshead said. “Along with a small military contingent. Then the rest of the men and the soldiers who are going out.”
“Oorah, sir,” Faith said. “How many you got? We couldn’t get a good count from the satellites. We only have occasional overhead and there’s been weather.”
“One hundred twenty-three,” Whiteshead said. “That are going out.”
“Any notable medical conditions other than pregnancy?” Faith said, making a note. “We’ve got a pretty good medic on the ship.”
“We’ve lost most of those,” Whiteshead said, then paused. “Lieutenant, may I inquire…”
“In another month I’m legal to marry in Arkansas,” Faith said, looking up and grinning. “Thirteen is the answer, sir. Almost fourteen. I always get that question about now.”
“Bloody hell,” Whiteshead said.
“Tell you how bad it is,” Faith said. “I’m number…six, I think, in the chain of command of the Marine Corps. Another bad day and I’m the commandant. If you’re going out you’ll meet the rest of the Marine Corps in the ship.”
“Did you bring a helo carrier?” Whiteshead asked.
“Civilian oil platform supply ship,” Faith said, making a note and not looking up. “The Grace Tan. And another support ship and a big yacht for the evacuees. The only LHA we know the location of is the Iwo Jima, and we don’t have enough people to man it. Most of the Marines came from the Iwo or Gitmo. We’re holding Gitmo right now. Took it last month. Stand by, sir.
“Kodiak Ops, Kodiak Ops, Shewolf, over. Okay, Louisville it is. Count is one twenty-three, say again, one-two-three, coming out. No major medical. Malnourishment as usual. Three sorties should do it….Roger. You going to be able to get up on retrans any time soon? Roger…Shewolf, out.
“Okay, sir, you’re good to go. Look like the gunny’s got the bird unloaded. Let’s get to loading… Oh, hello,” she finished as the prince walked up.
“Captain Wales,” Captain Whiteshead said. “Lieutenant Faith Smith, United States Marine Corps.”
“Thank you for coming to our assistance,” Harry said, flashing a smile.
“No problem,” Faith said, shaking hands. “So far I’ve rescued a princess on a tower and a whole bunch of people who think they’re important. You’re my first prince so I can check that off on my bucket list. I’m hoping you’re going out. We need helo pilots.”
“That is the plan,” Prince Harry said, looking slightly confused for a moment. The response was, again, not what anyone would anticipate. The gunny had dubbed his reaction FEWSS: First Encounter With Seawolf Syndrome. “Lieutenant, is there any plan to pick up other survivors? We are sure there are some…”
“Right now, no, sir,” Faith said. “We’ve got one other mission planned which is to raid a research center for some vaccine production materials. That’s planned for tomorrow. Then, as far as I know, we’re going to float back to Gitmo. The priority right now is get the vaccine production up and get the sub crews vaccinated so we can get some trained personnel. You’ll have to take up any further rescue ops with the colonel or higher, sir.”
“I…understand,” Harry said. “Did you happen to see…”
“Saw some on the way in, sir,” Faith said. “Could you give me a second? I’ve got to coordinate with the gunny on the extract, sir.”
“Of course,” Harry said. “Mission comes first.”
“Excuse me, sirs,” Faith said, walking back to the bird.
“Is she as young as she appears?” Harry asked as soon as she was out of earshot.