To Sail a Darkling Sea

CHAPTER 12

“God I love this system!” Anarchy said. He was stroking the trigger of the Browning in bursts because there just weren’t enough infected to engage full-bore. “The only thing that would make it better was if it was duals or quads!”

The two “gunships” had moved to the end of the pier, right by a bright red harbor tug, and were engaging infecteds “infiltrating” from the direction of the city. The sound of the guns didn’t really carry all that far, but infected from all over were converging on the usual flocks of gulls.

“It’s sweet,” Rusty said. As one of the more “senior” people in the squadron who had transferred over to the Navy, he had been chosen as one of the “primary gunners.” More junior people were humping the ammo. Which worked for him. “What’s a dual?”

“Uh, oh,” Anarchy said. A huge group of infected had just come into view. Previously they’d been trickling in in small groups or singles. This was a couple of hundred and it looked like more behind them. “Rock concert time! Rusty, get the leakers!” he started engaging at long range. The BMG could kill out to nearly a mile. This was less than a thousand yards. But the single gun wasn’t stopping the tidal wave.

“Division, you see this? Tell them to get a move on!”

* * *

“Roger, I see it,” Lieutenant Chen said. He’d taken a position well outboard from where the containers were being put into place just so his boat would be the primary on engagement. “Boat Two, stop the leakers. Rusty, engage long. Repeat, engage long. Garcia, Garcia,” he radioed. “What’s the status on closure, over?”

* * *

“Oh, my,” Faith said, looking through binoculars at the oncoming horde. The away team had landed on the pier as the better way to keep the infected from boarding the supply ship. The Alan Garcia was tied up, stern first, to the pier and was just maneuvering the first container into place. “That’s a bunch, all right.”

“And there’s a problem,” Januscheitis said.

“Which is?” Faith asked, looking over her shoulder. “Oh.”

The crane on the Alan Garcia was designed for dropping cargo containers on piers at small ports or onto lighters in small harbors where there weren’t better systems. It was not designed to move them far from the ship. Just get them “on dock.” It had had to be modified just to get them to drop “inline” with the ship for the “mechanical clearance” devices. Getting it to drop them “further out” was out of the question. It would need an entirely different crane.

And the “outboard” container didn’t quite make it to the seawall. Thus there was going to be a gap. There was a pedestrian walkway with lights along it on the seawall side. They’d already checked and the container was going to crush the lights when it landed on them. But it didn’t, in fact, make it. There was a solid four foot gap. Two sailors were straining at lines to get it to swing out, but it just wasn’t happening.

“Ground team, division, you seeing what we’re seeing?” Captain Walker radioed. “And by that I mean the gap not the oncoming football hooligans.”

“We see it,” Faith replied. “There’s a gap. Drop it and put the next one in place. We’ll figure out the gap later.”

“Doors,” Januscheitis said.

“Squirrel,” Faith replied. “Why are we playing word association games?”

“We open the doors on the container and tie them back, ma’am,” Januscheitis said. “The one that’s on the south side will push into the wall so the more they push it the tighter it will get.”

“That is a brilliant suggestion, Staff Sergeant,” Faith said. “Infected are holding from the fire. Let’s make it so. We’re going to need to smash away some of the lights.”

“Kirby. Hammer!”

“Yes, Staff Sergeant,” Kirby said.

“Wait… ” Januscheitis said. “Squirrel, ma’am…?”

* * *

“What the hell is this?” Faith asked when they’d opened the container. The container was filled with pallets of wooden boxes that were narrow, wide and about man sized. A short man, anyway.

“Dunno, ma’am,” Januscheitis said, firing twice. “But we’re going to need to be on the other side of the door when those infected get here.”

The fire from the combined gunboats was slowing the tide of infected but a few leakers were getting through. And eventually that would be “a lot” of leakers.

Faith pulled one of the shipping manifests off a pallet and looked at it, tipping her head.

“Yves Saint Laurent… Oh, my GOD! It’s DRESSES! We can’t use this! They’re going to get RUINED!”

“Ma’am… ” Januscheitis said.

“I just need to find a size eight!” Faith screamed, pulling out a knife. “Okay, ten… twelve is the highest I’ll go… ”

“Oh, jeeze,” Januscheitis said. “Derk! Get the 240 and a bunch of ammo! Pag, Kirby… Find the LT a dress… ”

* * *

“. . Roger, Division, we’re… uh… reconfiguring our plan, here. There’s some high value material in this container so we’re jamming the forward door to keep the infected out rather than tying back the rear… ”

“No. God no, that color would look horrible on me… ”

“Be about… Could be a while, Division… ”

“Seriously? That would barely fit my sister… ”

“. . got the door jammed open, reinforcing it, still working the exercise, Division… ”

“No, Lance Corporal, I am not going to wear that dress in public… I’m not sure I’d wear it in private… ”

“. . Pag, go see if you can get one of those cargo-handlers moving. We’ll jam it up against the door… And pick up some more seven six two… ”

“Oh, God. Oh, God, yes. YES! YES! YES!”

“Roger, Division, breaking contact now… ”

“Now all I need to find is a container-load of shoes… ”

* * *

“Good Lord,” Paula said. “That’s gorgeous.”

The long-sought dress was basically red but the holographic silk changed it to rippling cascade of different shades from pink to burgundy.

“Can you alter it for me?” Faith said. “I got it sort of large… ”

“Easily,” Paula said. “We’ll need some time to do a fitting.”

“Annnd we have more,” Januscheitis said, patiently gesturing to PFC Kirby who was more or less invisible under a pile of fabric.

“I figured you were about Sophia’s size,” Faith said, pulling the dresses off the PFC. “There’s a bunch… ”

“Ahem. LT? Now that we’ve got that emergency fixed?”

“Oh, yeah, the liner,” Faith said, grumpily. “Right, where’s that techy? We need to see if we can get the port side embarkation ramp open and the starboard side closed… ”

* * *

“Are you sure that door’s going to hold?” Dougherty asked, nervously, looking around the interior of the cruise liner. He’d puked, again, when he had to walk nearly knee deep in dead bodies just to get to the hatch controls.

“No,” Januscheitis said, sighing. “But we’ve got it chocked, braced and a cargo handler jammed up against it. And the other door is open and tied back. If the first one fails, well, they ain’t getting’ past the second.”

“If the infected get into that cargo container, every woman in the Fleet will tear you apart limb from limb, Staff Sergeant,” Faith said. “You’re not a woman. You don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t, LT,” Januscheitis said. “But we were fine giving you cover fire while you found a dress. And it’s damned pretty, ma’am. It will look good on you.”

“Thank you, Staff Sergeant,” Faith said, giving his arm a punch. “Sorry I went a little nuts back there.”

“No issues, ma’am,” Januscheitis said. “It’s sort of why we follow you around.”

“So… What do you need to get this hatch open,” Faith said, pointing at the offending hatch, “and that hatch closed?”

“Power,” Dougherty said. “And some time and tools. And not having to worry about getting eaten by zombies would help.”

“Get the pierside hatch closed and you’re golden on that one,” Faith said. “But it would be nice if we didn’t have to fight out way out of the ship to get back to the boat so… water side open first, maybe?”

“I’ll go get some tools… ”

* * *

“The pier side embarkation doors are closed all three liners,” Lieutenant Chen said. “And water side are all open. Infected have been cleared from all embarkation areas and the pier has been somewhat secured against infiltration from the city.”

The rest of the Squadron had arrived just before dawn. Captain Smith had called for a “command and staff” meeting at 0800 hours to prepare for clearance of the vessels. Given that getting the embarkation areas of the liners was the most critical step, things seemed to be going well enough.

“Reconnaissance and clearance has been conducted on the supermax up to the level of Deck Five. Ground team commander?”

“It is believed that stores were being prepared for distribution either to passengers in cabins or to secure areas,” Faith said, looking at the notes that Januscheitis had given her. She was really uncomfortable speaking in public and especially to the “command and staff” meeting. She’d never met half the people there including the new senior Marine, she was bleary from sleep deprivation and she was terrified she’d look like an idiot. Which led her to read slowly and in a monotone.

“The stores were stockpiled in the embarkation area. Most of them were in non-metallic containers so the infected were able to… access them. This led to high levels of infected in the embarkation area. The watertight doors between the embarkation area and the atrium on Deck Five were all open. Continued infiltration of infected into the embarkation area led to a decision to commence clearance for the purposes of finding the entries and securing them.

“Infected subjects were found in all areas up to Deck Five. There were indications that there is a significant infected presence above and below Deck Five as well as on Deck Four, the embarkation level. Primary watertight doors leading to the embarkation area were closed and partially secured. The doors don’t have manual dogs on them, it’s some sort of electronic locking mechanism, so the best we could do was jam them shut.

“On the other two liners we started by finding and shutting the doors, first, then entering with technical personnel to get the embarkation hatches switched around.” She paused and her lips worked for a second. “By midnight, all embarkation areas were converted to water-side entry. Significant infected levels, in excess of the Boadicea, were found on all vessels. No evidence of survivors. However, penetration was limited to embarkation areas and immediate surroundings.

“I would like to commend Mister Gregory Dougherty, engineering mate from the Garcia, on his ex… emplary actions in getting the doors switched around often under conditions of some threat. That concludes my report.”

She sat down quickly.

“I know that you have the word ‘exemplary’ in your vocabulary, Lieutenant,” Steve said, drily. “But that really didn’t sound like your writing.”

“Staff Sergeant Januscheitis has been training me on… military report writing, sir,” Faith replied. “But in this case, yes, the Staff Sergeant pretty much wrote the report, sir. We got the doors configured by midnight. We were still picking out and clearing infected on the pier at one. There were a bunch of the little bastards. The Staff Sergeant and I worked on the report last night but I think I passed out around four. The Staff Sergeant shoved the report into my hands on the way to the meeting, sir. I really don’t know what I’d do without the Staff Sergeant, sir.”

“So you’re working on, what, two hours sleep?” Steve said. “Remember the thing about no more than twelve hour’s clearance a day, Lieutenant?”

“That would be on me, sir,” Chen said. “We were trying to prepare for the arrival of the Squadron. I wanted things to be in place so you could begin clearance ops without issue.”

“And it just took longer than we’d thought, sir,” Faith said, shrugging. “I didn’t go into detail on getting the doors configured. We had to have a generator to run them. And every time we cranked the generator, we’d find we’d missed a damn hatch and, hello, here come a bunch of fricking zombies! Then Greg would dive for cover while we fought out way through the infected to the hatch we’d missed and get it closed. Or hatches in one case. So it just took a long time.”

“You’re off duty until tomorrow morning after this meeting,” Steve said. “As are the rest of the members of your team. We have sufficient Marines for this clearance and I’m not going to have you or your team clearing in your condition.”

“Yes, sir,” Faith said. “I can still clear, sir. Meetings not so good but I can clear in my sleep. But for my team I thank you. They really busted their… butts yesterday. Sir.”

“Before Lieutenant Smith leaves, any questions? Captain Wilkes.”

“Any intel on the ships other than ‘there’s lots of infected,’ Lieutenant?” Wilkes asked.

“We found a security point on the supermax, sir,” Faith said, tapping the report. “There are the usual brochure maps and one detail map that covers the non-passenger areas, sir. We also recovered several keycards, one of them a senior purser. They give access to some areas. We found one door we couldn’t open but… That’s as far as we got, sir.”

“Numbers?” Wilkes said. “Useful intelligence?”

“I’ll cover that, Captain,” Captain Smith said. “For your general information on clearance of a large ship, you can never determine numbers of survivors or infected until you open a hatch, Captain. Infected only need water. They’ll eat each other if there’s no other food source. If there are reserves of water, you can expect infected. So when you analyze the map, assume infected in any area with fresh water sources. Survivors are generally, not always, found in areas with food storage below the fresh-water tanks. Otherwise, your guess is as good as anyone’s.”

“Look out for the spa,” Faith said, muzzily. “There’s a spa listed. Spas aren’t good. You get in the scrum in spas.”

“Translated as use a large force for spa clearance which I and Lieutenant Fontana can cover,” Steve said. “Lieutenant, you’re dismissed until tomorrow morning. Have your team ready for clearance ops by 0800 hours tomorrow. Understood?”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Faith said.

“Your gear should already have been moved over here. Ask Mrs. Bailey where it’s at.”

“Yes, sir,” Faith said.

“That means you can get up and leave, Faith,” Steve said, shooing her. “Go.”

“Roger,” Faith said, standing up. “See you tomorrow.”

* * *

“As to ‘useful intelligence,’ Captain,” Steve said. “The fact that the Lieutenant’s team was able to get us full deck plans is a blessing. We might be able to make a rational guess where survivors are located and we’ll concentrate on that at first.”

“I was not meaning to imply any lack of confidence in the Lieutenant, sir,” Wilkes said, tightly.

“Captain, your lack of confidence in my daughter is writ large,” Steve said, chuckling. “You don’t care for her being a Marine officer. I get that. For that matter, you don’t like that I’m an instant Navy Captain and your boss. Get that as well. When you’ve had some experience clearing a large vessel, you can, as the Gunnery Sergeant did, revisit your calculation. It is experiential. You may retain your opinion or modify it. I really don’t care which as long as it doesn’t interfere with the mission. Now, we’re going to pull out those blueprints the Lieutenant’s team found and try to go at this with an actual plan for a change… ”

* * *

“Captain, a moment of your time?” Lieutenant Chen said as the meeting broke up.

“Sure, Lieutenant,” Steve said. “What’s up.”

“I… I do not have Captain Wilkes’ issues with Lieutenant Smith,” Chen said. “Either Smith. I’ve found them both to be extremely competent especially given their age. They’re… I’m not blowing smoke, sir, when I say they’re a real credit to you and your wife, sir.”

“They’re… ” Steve said then shrugged. “It’s both a very proud papa and a trying to be dispassionate observer who agrees. Their achievements speak for themselves. I take it, though, that there has been an issue?”

“There was, sir,” Chen said, reluctantly. “Any good officer knows that there are things to overlook. For example, there are shall we say ‘special stores’ on the boats… ”

“Given that there’s no real pay to be seen on the horizon, I’ve ignored the fact that boats like Sophia’s are turning into floating treasure galleons,” Steve said. “And as for the booze… I was once told by an officer I admired that there’s no point in giving an order you know won’t be obeyed. But if you want me to discuss it with Sophia… ”

“I’m going to do that, sir,” Chen said. “But that’s not the issue, sir. Sir, in the middle of the battle yesterday, Faith went dress shopping.”

“Excuse me?” Steve said.

“One of the containers we used to block the quay turned out to contain some formal dresses, sir,” Chen said. “Faith… protracted the engagement to sort through them looking for a dress for the Marine Corps Ball, sir.”

“Seriously?” Steve said. “I mean… Seriously?”

“Yes, sir,” Chen said. “I haven’t formally investigated it, sir, but… ”

“I hear what you’re saying, Lieutenant,” Steve said, carefully. “And I understand your concern. It… it just doesn’t sound like Faith. She’s not normally a shopaholic.”

“The Marines think it’s funny, sir,” Chen said, seriously. “Just another example of, well, ‘Miss Faith.’ But it put them in a dangerous position while the Lieutenant went, well, dress shopping, sir. I understand she is your daughter, sir, but… ”

“That’s… Yes,” Steve said. “She is. However, I convinced the Gunny she was worthy of a lieutenancy on the basis that she’s not quite as immature as she acts. This is a counter example. Did she give any argument in favor? I mean, I cannot find an argument but… ”

“I haven’t brought it up with her, yet, sir,” Chen said. “It’s a touchy subject. The Marines think the world of her and they think it was hilarious. But it was not only putting her Marines in jeopardy to go dress shopping, it was using them for personal privilege, sir. On the other hand, she’s a Marine, not Navy, and she’s your daughter, sir. I’d considered bringing it up with Captain Wilkes but… You’re my chain of command, sir. And she’s your daughter.”

“Well, I’m her chain of command as well,” Steve said. “I’d like to bring her in to discuss it. See if she has any reasonable arguments. If not… Letter of reprimand?”

“I… wouldn’t go that far, sir,” Chen said. “Possibly a written counseling statement.”

“Very well,” Steve said. “I’ve got a slot at fourteen-thirty. Bring her by.”

* * *

Faith woke from a dream that all the women who’d been raped and murdered on the Alpha were trying to talk to her. She couldn’t understand their words, though. Just that they were warning her of something.

She really didn’t like being on the Alpha. She’d had to clear it with her Dad and Sergeant Fontana and it was one of the clearances that gave her nightmares. On the other hand, she had a cabin to herself and a private bathroom. She’d put up with the nightmares.

Someone had kindly laid out a pair of shorts and a Marines T-shirt on her bed before she got there. And all her stuff was not only in the room but unpacked and put in drawers. Her hard-found dress was in the closet and someone had even put it in a plastic bag.

She’d just dropped her uniform on the deck, pulled off her bra and crawled into the sheets, she was that tired. The brown T-shirt and panties were fresh. Good enough.

She got up and went into the bathroom and examined herself in the mirror.

“Okay, now I get what they mean by ‘death warmed over.’ ” Her face was drained. She looked like a recent kill. Maybe that’s what the women were trying to tell her. “You look like shit, Faith.”

She wasn’t even sure what time it was. She could see it was twilight. Probably the sun was going down, not coming up. If it was coming up, she was already late for assembly.

There was a sign in the shower stall: “Please conserve water. Wet down. Turn off the water. Lather up. Rinse off.”

She turned the shower on full and just hung her head under it. Screw water conservation. They could get some from the fresh water tanks on the freighter. The freighter her team had fucking cleared. And if they ran out? Well, they’d just clear another fucking freighter. Or get it from the liner. Liners always had big fucking fresh water tanks.

The shower helped. She did some push-ups and sit-ups and stretches and that helped more.

By the time she’d gotten done with that, her stomach was rumbling.

“Time to find food,” she muttered.

She was off duty so she just wore the Marine T-shirt and shorts and some flip-flops. If anybody had a problem with that, they could bite her.

When she got to the main saloon, there was a buffet laid out and it was about full of people. What got her, initially, was that there were very few she’d recognized. While her team had been clearing the towns in the Canaries, the rest of the Squadron had been doing recovery ops at sea and apparently they’d been pretty successful. She saw a few of the girls from the Money scattered around but they seemed to be “sponsors.” Mostly it was one to a table. And you could tell a lot of the people were “freshies,” fresh off the lifeboat or out of a compartment. The “boaties” all had super dark tans. The “ghosts,” compartment people, were all wearing shades and were either ghost white or sunburned.

She grabbed a tray and started filling up a plate. She’d always worried about her weight but clearance ops were calorie intensive. You could eat about anything you wanted when you were spending all day climbing stairs carrying a hundred pounds of gear, ammo and weapons and fighting zombies. Another benefit of a zombie apocalypse.

“Hey, LT,” a voice said.

She turned around and thought about it. The face was familiar…

“Sergeant Smith,” Smith said. “I was in the compartment with Staff Sergeant Januscheitis, Lieutenant.”

“Smitty,” Faith said, nodding. “He talks about you a lot.”

“Marines are over on the other side of the messdeck,” Smitty said, gesturing with a thumb. “The Staff Sergeant’s still down. But Derk and Pag are over there.”

“I’ll be right over,” Faith said. “Just let me load up with some carbs.”

“I can get that for you, ma’am,” Smitty said.

“I think I can carry my own tray, Sergeant,” Faith said. “But thanks.”

She skipped the deserts, her tray was getting overloaded and she could always come back, and headed over to the table.

“Room for one more?” she asked.

“Right here, Skipper,” Pagliaro said, pulling out a chair.

“Why thank you, kind sir,” Faith said, sitting down. “And I know you work for a living.”

“How’d the meeting go, ma’am?” Derek asked.

“I only sort of vaguely remember it,” Faith said. “I get the feeling Captain Wilkes doesn’t like me.”

“He’s trade school, ma’am,” one of the Marines said. “Citadel of all places. He’s not really that up on ROTC officers. And he’s a pilot. They’re all ‘I’m a pilot so I’m hot shit.’ ”

“He’s doing okay at running the clearance,” another said, shrugging. “For a guy who’s not infantry.”

“How’s it going?” Faith asked. She was vaguely aware that it wasn’t a good idea for an officer to get into running down a superior.

“Lots of zombies,” one of the Marines said. “Lots of fucking zombies.”

“Lieutenant Fontana said it’s almost as bad as the Voyage,” another said. “But the cabins weren’t locked down.”

“How come so many survived?” Pagliaro said. “I mean, water, hello!”

“Fountains,” Sergeant Smith said. “The place has fucking fountains and pools everywhere. And they were all full. There’s also pools on the upper deck that caught rainwater. And most of the doors were open so they could move around. Some of the compartments below the water tanks had valves leaking or partially opened. It’s a fucking zombie fest.”

“Which Captain Wilkes has been careful to avoid,” one of the Marines said. “He hasn’t gone past the embarkation area.”

“And he had us lay out all the bodies and ‘prepare them for proper burial,’ ” another said. “If he expects us to do that with the whole ship… ”

“Then we’ll do it with the whole ship,” Sergeant Smith said.

“Da’ll just have us scatter beetles,” Faith said. “There’s no way to clear two or three thousand bodies.”

“What I don’t get is how you and your dad cleared one of these by yourselves,” a Marine said. “Jesus, ma’am. I mean… We’ve only got two decks clear.”

“One compartment at a time,” Faith said. “And it wasn’t just Da and I. There was Sergeant… Lieutenant Fontana and Hooch. But, yeah, it was a bit of a wanker. Really rather change the subject. Okay, we’re all Marines, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Smitty said.

“Not everybody in the saloon?”

“No, ma’am,” Smith said, frowning.

“How come half the people in this room are wearing Marine and Navy T-shirts?” Faith asked.

“Oh, that,” Smitty said, chuckling. “There was a big stash of them on the Iwo. You know how finding clothes that fit is tough, ma’am. So they just are handing them out to whoever gets found.”

“Ah,” Faith said. “That makes sense. It sort of makes it hard separating the sheep from the goats, though.”

“Well, I guess we could give them all dresses, ma’am,” Derek said.

“Bite your tongue,” Faith said. “Those are works of art!”

“We heard about your little combat shopping spree, ma’am,” Sergeant Smith said over the chuckles.

“Okay, okay, so I went a little nuts,” Faith said. “Sue me. You’re guys. You don’t get it.”

“We figure we’d do the same thing if it was a container full of Guinness, ma’am,” Derek said, grinning. “Don’t sweat it. No worries.”

“Is the door still holding?” Faith asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Smitty said. “We did some reinforcing on it. Well, covered some Navy guys who reinforced it.”

“We need to get those out of the container and into safety,” Faith said. “Seriously. Those are works of art. You don’t just leave them to get rained on or overrun by infected.” She looked at her empty plate and sighed. “I really shouldn’t do dessert… ”

“I’ll get you something, ma’am,” one of the Marines said. “What do you want?”

“I appreciate it, again,” Faith said, standing up. “But, you guys have been clearing all day while I was napping. I should do my own fetching.”

* * *

“So that’s Shewolf?” one of the Marines said as she walked away. He added a whistle. “Damn that’s some fine jailbait.”

“Olsen, I will personally ram a fork down your throat,” Pagliaro said.

“And the rest of us will hold you down,” Smitty added. “Not to mention disrespect to a superior officer.”

“I wasn’t being… ” Olsen said. “I guess I was but, just… wow! And I am being very respectful of the LT, Sergeant. Nothing but admiration. But is she really… I mean, she’s big for a chick, especially a, you know, thirteen-year-old chick, but is she really as badass as everybody says?”

“Worse,” Derek said. “Dead killer combat shooter, rifle or pistol. She’s killed so many infected she just does it without thinking. Muscle fucking memory. Sees an infected, kills it. I’ve never seen her use her kukhri but Lieutenant Fontana said she’s pretty much the same at melee range. You’ve seen the video, right?”

“Yes, Corporal, I have,” Olsen said. “Just having hard time connecting Miss Hotty with it.”

“Then there’s the drinking thing,” Derek said, shaking his head.

“Drinking?” Olsen said. “Isn’t she a little young?”

“Rather the not drinking, usually, thing,” Derek said. “She only drinks, like, water and fruit juice. Doesn’t like the taste of beer or wine.”

“But she’s okay with straight liquor,” Pag said, chuckling.

“Straight?” Olsen said.

“Drinks it like water,” Derek said. “Isn’t really into it cause it barely gives her a buzz. Just takes a couple shots ‘Is this supposed to be doing something?’ I’ve seen her drink enough to put down a Gunny and it not even faze her.”

“Damn,” Olsen said, laughing. “Okay, I guess she can be an officer.”

“As if it’s up to you to judge,” Derek said.

“She does have a tendency to pass out at a certain point,” Pagliaro said, snickering.

“Pass out?” Olsen said.

“First night we were clearing the Boadicea she practically face planted in her plate at dinner,” Pag said, laughing. “Like ‘I’ve got reports to write. . Snore. .’ ”

“She’s thirteen,” Derek said. “She’s still growing. I’m always surprised she hangs as long as she does. And, Pag, you were ten minutes behind her.”

“I get that,” one of the Marines said. “Clearing is fucking hell on your adrenal gland. I thought the Stan was bad.”

“Fuck, I’m a God damned airframe mechanic,” Olsen said. “This shit is for Oh-Three-Elevens.”

“We’re all infantry now,” Derek said. “At least, that’s the way Captain Carrion sees it. And he is another Smith I am not going to fuck with. Hooch says her dad is as badass as Faith. And that’s pretty fucking badass for a Navy Captain.”

* * *

Faith trolled the dessert tray but she’d filled up on “regular” food and wasn’t quite ready to pile on pure sugar. The chocolate tray was tempting. Apparently someone had found a stash of Godiva. She ate a couple at the buffet then headed back to the Marine table. She was still tired and dessert could wait.

Half way across the room a hand grabbed her arm.

“Hey, Tootsie,” the man said, holding out an empty high-ball glass. “Get me another Glenlivet.”

Faith just stood there in shock for a moment. The dude, who looked to be in his early fifties, was clearly a “boat” freshy. He had one hell of a tan.

“Uh, sir… ” The table “sponsor” looked like one of the Money girls and had a slight Slavic accent. “That’s… ”

“Let go of my arm,” Faith said. “The last person who grabbed me I literally cut their fucking hand off at the wrist.”

“Do you know who I am?” the man snapped.

“Somebody who needs to learn some fucking manners,” Faith said, grabbing his thumb and twisting it into a lock.

“Ow!” the man said. “Jesus, let go of me you crazy bitch!”

Faith’s eyes blazed and she threw the man to the ground, putting his head in a lock with his arm twisted behind his back.

“I don’t know who you are, but do you know who I am?” Faith snarled.

“Lieutenant!” a voice snapped from behind her. “Let go of Mister Zumwald!”

She looked over her shoulder and it was, of course, Captain Wilkes. Great.

She released the man and rolled to her feet.

“Sorry, sir,” Faith said. “But I don’t like being grabbed and I especially didn’t like being called a bitch, sir.”

“Mister Zumwald, I apologize for the lieutenant’s overreaction.”

“Lieutenant?” the man gargled. “She’s insane! She needs to be locked up!”

“I will, I assure you, counsel the lieutenant on actions becoming of an officer in the United States military, sir,” Wilkes said. “Lieutenant, a moment of your time?”

* * *

Wilkes led Faith out of the main saloon onto the foredeck and turned around, hands on his hips.

“Lieutenant, would you care to explain your actions in there? You don’t put a major Hollywood executive in a headlock!”

“Sir… ” Faith said. She tended to get at a loss for words when she was being scolded and she really didn’t know what to say. “He grabbed me, sir!”

“So you put him in a chokehold?” Wilkes said. “There are situations that can be resolved without violence, Lieutenant. Has anyone ever explained to you the term ‘conduct unbecoming of an officer’? It means you don’t go brawling with anyone, especially major film executives, in public!”

“What was I supposed to do, sir?” Faith asked, angrily. “Bat my fucking eyes at him and go get him his fucking drink?”

“Lieutenant,” Wilkes said, coldly. “You are being officially counseled on what actions are becoming of an officer of the United States Naval Service. In addition, since you don’t know shit from shinola about being an officer, let me add that you don’t get to use a disrespectful tone or disrespectful language to the officer that is counseling you. These are articles of the Uniform Code of Military Justice, Lieutenant. You can be charged with conduct unbecoming for your recent actions. You also can be charged with disrespect to a superior officer for that outburst. Do you understand that, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir,” Faith said.

“Do you understand that an officer of the United States Naval service does not start a brawl because someone asked her to get them a drink?” Wilkes said.

“Yes, sir,” Faith said.

“And that an officer of the United States Naval service does not put someone in a chokehold, especially a major Hollywood executive?”

“Yes, sir,” Faith said.

“In addition, while you have had to, of necessity, spend a good bit of personal time with your Marines, when off-duty, when it is possible as is the case here on the Alpha, your place is with the officers, not the enlisted. There was an officer’s table in the saloon. Spend your time there.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ve had a trying few weeks,” Wilkes said. “You really shouldn’t have been sent out on a functionally independent mission given your age and inexperience. I will try to keep this incident from being reflected on your FITREP. But you had better start learning conduct becoming an officer or I will not be able to avoid reflecting that. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Faith said.

“I’ll go smooth things over with Mister Zumwald,” Wilkes said. “You should probably go to your cabin and get some more sleep. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

Faith went back to her cabin, avoiding the saloon, wrapped herself around Trixie and cried herself to sleep.