There was a test on each of them. Three phrases with multiple choice answers as to their translation. All three were what he would term advanced if he was teaching the course. He even recognized a couple of them from DLI.
That one he scored a one hundred. He damned well should, he’d written these tests before.
There were no tests for truck driving or mountaineering so he was done.
He took a seat and waited.
“Thomas Walker?”
* * *
“You were an English as a Second Language instructor?”
There was a printed out folded-paper sign on the desk that read “Matthew Scott Baker.” The placement officer was skinny which vaguely surprised Thomas until he realized that probably everyone had come off a lifeboat or from a compartment like his.
“Yes, sir,” Thomas said. “In England working mostly with Spanish and French managers transferred to England who needed some brushing up on their linguistic skills. But I’d really prefer do something on the nautical side.”
“You certainly appear qualified for that on paper,” Baker said, shaking his head. “We’ve master mariners that couldn’t remember this much of the test. Do you have a mariner’s ticket?”
“No, sir,” Thomas said. “I just enjoyed reading and read the book a few times. Also I had a few friends with boats and I’d cadge rides on yachts. I know my way around. I forgot to include I can also cook. I’ve never been a professional cook but I can find my way around a galley.”
“Cooks we have,” Baker said. “Even professional navy and cruise line cooks. People who know how to pass the mariner’s course are rare. Despite that, you won’t be placed directly into a boat captain’s position. Sorry, it’s a matter of trust. You have to spend some time crewing on a vessel.”
“And cleaning compartments,” Thomas said. “I understand the need for that.”
“Oh, no,” Baker said, shaking his head. “We’ve got a very high priority for persons who can show any ability with these yachts. You’re going to the very head of that list based on your answers. And civilian shooting experience with a one hundred? You’re going to boat crews unless you somehow fooled the tests. I’ll schedule you for the hands-on testing phase for tomorrow’s class if you’re really ready?”
“Absolutely,” Walker said. “I don’t like sitting around.”
“You’re scheduled,” Baker said. “There should be a message passed to you at your compartment but if that gets fouled up, be on the aft deck at eight AM tomorrow morning. And if you’re not on their list, have them call me and I’ll straighten it out. Thank you for volunteering; we really need all the help we can get.”
“Just proud to be here,” Walker said. “Any idea where my compartment might be?”
Baker looked at his screen and shook his head.
“You didn’t even get assigned a cabin?” he asked.
“No, sir,” Walker said. “I just signed in and came down here.”
“I can assign one from here, I know I can… ” Baker said. He tapped at the keyboard and fiddled for a bit then nodded. “All right, I’m assigning you cabin as well as a provisional boat crew ration level. The only pay right now is how good your quarters and food is. And there’s not, truly, much difference. Boat crews, civilian and Navy, get a share of the salvage. So they generally eat well and can pick up some pretties to wow the ladies. I’m also told that when you run into someone you’ve rescued, they tend to be fairly grateful. I know I was to Seawolf but I’m not going to try to express it physically, you understand.”
Thomas didn’t but he just nodded.
“Go back to the main saloon,” Baker said, taking a print-out from his computer and signing it. “The port side is the… Oh, I don’t suppose I have to explain port and starboard?”
“No,” Walker said.
“On the port side, forward, there’s a desk that says ‘Reservations.’ Go there and they will issue you your rations card and your room key. You may or may not get a room on this boat. But you still need to be back on the transom deck by eight AM. There are those zodiacs that move around all over. If you end up on a different ship, catch a ride back. All right?”
“All right,” Walker said.
“Welcome to Wolf Squadron and good luck,” Baker said, shaking his hand. “I’ll leave you the small boats. I bounced around in a lifeboat for long enough, this isn’t even big enough for me.”
“I’m looking forward to the fresh air,” Walker said.
* * *
“You just got out of a compartment and you’re already signed up for crewman training?” the lady at “Reservations” said. “Have you even had anything to eat?”
“I had some soup,” Walker said. “There was food in the compartment. And I’ve been sitting on my ass for six months. I’m ready to do something.”
“We’re out of cabins on this boat,” she said, looking at her computer. “I’ll put you on the Boadicea. They have some cabins that just came open. They should be clean but they may be a bit whiff. Well, the boat may be a bit whiff. Are you extremely claustrophobic after being in the compartment?”
“No,” Thomas said.
“I’ll put you in an interior compartment, then,” the lady said. “I can put you in a stateroom that way. You get your own bathroom and shower.”
“A flush toilet will be luxury in itself,” Thomas said. “I thank you.”
“This is your rations card and, functionally, your identification for now,” the lady said, handing him what looked like a hotel room key. “The people on the Boadicea will have to issue you your room key. This will let you get something to eat on any of the ships.” She handed him a yellow card on a lanyard. “This shows that you’re in training for one of the regular squadron positions. It allows you access to any of the public areas on any of the ships as well as travel from ship to ship. By the ships I mean the ships in the Squadron, not the liners such as you came off of. Those are off-limits to non-clearance personnel. Even if you have something that was in your cabin, until you get cleared they are off-limits. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Walker said. “I can imagine you don’t want people roaming around on them getting lost.”
“Or getting shot by the Marines by mistake,” she said. “You can pick up a zodiac headed to the Boadicea on the transom deck. That’s the waterline spot at the back of the boat you entered by. And you’re scheduled for your first class at eight AM tomorrow. Be back here on time. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Thomas said, taking the IDs.
“Thank you for signing up. There’s a big world to save. We need all the help we can get.”
* * *
“Anybody headed to the Boadicea?” Thomas asked.
There were three RHIBs tied up on the transom deck. The presumable drivers were chatting up one of the Russian chicks. The drivers were all young, teens or twenties.
“I am,” one said. He had a strong Scottish accent. “But unless you’re in a hurry, I’m waiting on some more passengers.”
“No rush,” Thomas said. It was a nice day to be out of the compartment.
“Did you not just come aboard?” the Russian chick asked.
“I didn’t want to sit around for three days doing nothing,” Walker said, shrugging. “So I signed up for the nautical course already and they put me on the Boadicea.”
“That’s a fair do, mate,” the Scot said. “Must be a tough old bird.”
“Just don’t like sitting around,” Walker said. “Did you take the course? I mean, am I gonna get stuck on a zodiac?”
“That’s the shit, man,” one of the others said. “Driving these things is a blast.”
“Be a bit less fun when we get offshore, mate,” the Scot said. “But, aye, it’s one of the choices. Mostly they put young blokes on it, no offense. It’s a bit physical for most of the older blokes.”