Islands of Rage and Hope

CHAPTER 9

“Change of agenda for the meeting,” Steve said, pulling up a satellite shot of an island. All of the officers as well as Walker, Gunny Sands, Sergeant Major Barney and Chief Schmidt were present. General Brice and Dr. Dobson were attending via satellite video. “Marines and some presently unspecified Naval forces will head down to the Leeward Islands. Part of that will be to sweep for any remaining medical supplies, textbooks and so on. Part of it will be other missions. Which is the primary focus of this meeting. First, the good news. We now have a possibility of getting not only a microbiologist but several mechanical engineers, a former SEAL and, will wonders never cease, an MD.”

“Where?” Walker asked.

“Well, that is in part up to Colonel Hamilton,” Steve said. “General Brice?”

“We’ve been looking at this mission for some time,” General Brice said. “Mission is to thoroughly clear a small island—our suggestion on that is Anguilla in the British Leeward Islands—and then secure a golf course on that island.”

“General,” Walker said, “with the forces that we have, securing a golf course would be functionally impossible.”

“It’s not a suggestion, sir,” Brice said, sir. “It’s more of a desperation move. And it’s not exactly ‘secure the golf-course.’ It’s ‘secure the island with focus on the golf course.’ We’re just hoping that the Dragon can hit an island.”

“Dragon?” Faith said excitedly. “They’re real?”

“The ISS resupply vessel?” Sophia asked. “I didn’t think they were personnel rated.”

“Oh,” Faith said. “Rats, I was hoping…Oooh, astronauts?”

“The ISS,” Colonel Hamilton said, shaking his head.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Sergeant Major Barney said.

“I thought it was evacuated, ma’am,” Faith said. “That was what we’d been told, ma’am.”

“Which was true for values of true, Lieutenant,” Brice said. “When it was impossible to return the full crew, we were holding off on mentioning that there were still five on the station. Just before the Fall, a prototype Dragon crew vehicle was shot up to the station with, well, as much in the way of supplies and parts as they could fit. But the decision was made for the crew to remain in space. The crews have reduced immune systems, along with dozens of other physical problems. Dropping them into the middle of a plague was not a good idea. Everyone hoped that…we’d be able to keep things under control. Get a handle on the Plague. Three returned on a Soyuz. What happened to them, and one of them was an American mission specialist, we don’t know. But five are still trapped on the station. The Dragon has never been tested for human reentry. It has been refitted for it, but… They’re out of time, materials, air and their last heat exchanger is about to fail. When it does, the ISS will turn into an oven. A really, really hot one.

“The problem has been, well, obvious…”

“A sufficiently large area sufficiently clear of infected,” Colonel Hamilton said.

“Which has people there to help them and people with vaccine,” General Brice said. “There’s an ironic aspect to this. The initial Dragon was similar to the early U.S. space missions: it was designed to land at sea and be picked up by boats. The one that was sent up as an emergency resupply and rescue vehicle was their ground landing prototype. Even if things got bad, they envisioned that someone, somewhere, would hold the land and, of course, there was no way that they could get help in an apocalypse at sea.”

“Oh, God,” Sophia said, holding her hand over her mouth and trying not to laugh.

“Yes, Ensign,” Brice said drily. “They’ve been up there for months watching the squadron build and cursing their luck. Some of those night sky videos, they provided.”

“How accurately can they land?” Walker asked.

“Much more than Soyuz, apparently,” Brice said. “They say they think they can hit the driving range on the golf course. Assuming that an untested prototype works. I’m saying secure the whole thing and set a perimeter to stay out from under—well, an untested prototype space-to-ground landing vehicle that has some pretty serious rockets it uses to land.”

“Shelley,” Walker said, shaking his head. “You’re overthinking it.”

“Oh?” Brice said. “Sorry; oh, sir?”

“Quit that,” Walker said, smiling. “There is exactly zero we can do to support the landing. It’s going to land just fine or it’s not. And if it’s off a bit, we’ll have troops under very powerful rockets. Last, sorry, General, there is no way that this number of personnel can secure that large a perimeter. So we back off. We stay onboard the ships. We let her land. Then we go back ashore and get them out.”

“Oh, please let it land safely,” Sophia said, holding her hands in prayer. “I so don’t want to run the vaccine program.”

“Thought you’d like to hear that, Seawolf,” Brice said.

“Does it matter if they hit, well, scrub on the way down?” Walker asked. He was looking at the island on a laptop.

“I’d have to ask them,” Brice said. “I’m sure a tree or large rock would ruin their day, and the slope of the LZ is obviously important. Why?”

“The golf course is on the narrow part of the island,” Walker said. “If they land in the water, I assume that’s pretty much all she wrote. If they can handle scrub, the eastern end of the island is much broader, has a relatively low area that is mostly scrub with several large fields. Why not there? For that matter, there’s an airfield.”

“I was thinking in terms of securing a perimeter, sir,” Brice admitted. “If we’re not going to…I’ll get with them. We have a very limited remaining link—dit/dash code, believe it or not—or I’d have them in on this conversation.”

“Then the order to them is shoot for anywhere on Anguilla,” Walker said. “And we’ll come get them. Or, rather, two charming young ladies will come get them while Marines and Navy landing personnel hold the perimeter. Do not open the hatch until they get ‘shave and a haircut.’ Infected are attracted to light and sound signatures and whoa is this going to be a doozy…If that meets with your approval, Colonel, Captain, General.”

The colonel, captain and general looked at each other for a moment.

“Looks like a good outline,” Captain Smith said after a moment. “Questions, comments, concerns.”

“Fire, sirs, ma’am,” Faith said. “The whole area’s already burned but it’s grown back.” She’d been looking at the satellite images as well.

“Good point,” Colonel Hamilton said. “The area is very dry. The rocket motor is going to cause a fire. Possibly a large one. The area has already been swept by them several times.”

“Question, ma’am,” Sophia said, raising her hand.

“Go, Ensign,” Brice said.

“Why not Gitmo?” Sophia asked. “It has a golf course.”

“Not as flat,” Brice said. “Gitmo is surrounded by rather steep hills in case you haven’t noticed. Anguilla is not flat but it is flatter. Essentially it’s an atoll. It appears to be the best island which is closest and also has a medical school so you can do two missions with one clearance. Also do we really want to drop a prototype rocket on our only land base? We’ve been gaming this for a while, Ensign. The decision was made in favor of not possibly destroying Gitmo even if we lost the ISS crew. There are no good choices in this world these days only less bad ones. Fire.”

“Look for a fire truck?” Sophia said, shrugging. “There should be one somewhere on the island.”

“Assuming we can get to it,” Walker said. “We’ll have to have the truck near the landing point for the roll out. But, honestly, most of this is going to have to be done on the fly.”

“How long until they are completely gone, ma’am?” Hamilton asked.

“Depends on the heat exchanger,” Brice said. “They have air for another two weeks, water for about a month. They’re out of food and have been for a week and on very short rations before then. But they are down to one heat exchanger which means they hit nearly a hundred and fifty degrees on the interior every time they fly through the sun zone. That goes out and they bake to death on their next pass. In the meantime, it’s bake, freeze, bake, freeze…”

“So as soon as possible it is,” Hamilton said. “Point of order…Mr. Walker’s exact position is somewhat ambiguous…”

“And it will remain that way for the time being,” Brice said. “Absent Mr. Walker wanting to take over this mission?”

“Pass,” Walker said. “Accompany, yes. Help? Absolutely. Among other things, we will be unable to perform the operation without the support of some of the pregnant women and at least one baby doctor along is going to be necessary. I recommend putting it under Colonel Hamilton. We don’t have an equivalent Naval officer of rank other than Captain Smith. I suppose we could put Lieutenant Commander Isham in charge.”

“Oh, hell, no,” Isham said, laughing. “I just make sure the paperwork is straight.”

“Which was my plan,” Steve said. “Very well. Mission of the task force is to begin clearance and sweep operations of the Leeward Islands beginning with the island of Anguilla with first mission being recovery of the astronauts. Details of clearance of that island to be determined when you get there. We’re pretty good at snap-kicking but I think we’ll need to look at how you’re going to be supported and supplied before you leave. So, despite the time issues and the problems of the ISS crew, plan for leaving in three or four days. Any questions?”

“Is it an opportune time to discuss the wider mission, sir?” Hamilton asked.

“How difficult do you think it will be to sweep the minor islands, Colonel?” Steve asked.

“Seriously, Da?” Faith said with a snort, then clapped her hand over her mouth.

“My subordinate seems to think it would be a walk to just clear them all,” Colonel Hamilton said drily. “Lieutenant Smith?”

“Looking at the maps, these are going to be as easy to clear as the Canaries or easier,” Faith said, shrugging. “These are small islands, small towns. Smaller than the Canary towns in most cases. Some of the islands are the size of Corillo. With the additional Marines, even without the ones that have been drawn off for helo work, we can blow through these like Michael Moore eating a bag of Oreos…”

Colonel Hamilton did a facepalm as most of the rest of the conference clearly tried not to laugh. The exception was Dr. Dobson who looked momentarily offended, realized the group he was dealing with and composed his features. Faith didn’t seem to notice as she scrolled around on her screen.

“Some of them are just too big,” Faith said, still ignoring the meeting. “I’m not sure, right now, which are possible and which aren’t…”

“Which task I’ll assign you,” Hamilton said. “Determining which are doable and which aren’t. To answer the captain’s question.”

“Here’s the real bitch, sir,” Faith said, still poking at the computer. “How recent are these shots?”

“Post-Plague,” General Brice said.

“Any way I can bring this up on the plasma, ma’am?” Faith asked.

“You’re locked in,” a voice said. What Faith was looking at came up on the plasma.

“Oh…damnit!” Steve snarled.

“Every big harbor I was looking at had cruise ships,” Faith said, looking up. “Those we can’t blow through. And they’re all, or mostly, big islands. Do we ignore them?”

“Primary mission is rescue the ISS crew,” General Brice said tightly. “Secondary mission is find materials to produce vaccine. The survivors are going to have enough supplies to hold out until we have time to clear them, or…they are not.”

“Input?” Sophia said.

“Go ahead, Ensign,” General Brice said.

“Once hard clearance is complete on most of these towns, my…Navy crews can generally sweep for the materials, ma’am,” Sophia said. “Marines could then potentially do what they can about cruise liners? While we’re doing that?”

“Can they clear hospitals, Lieutenant Commander Chen?” General Brice asked.

“Getting there, ma’am,” Chen replied. “If they’re in the same condition as the one here…yes.”

“Take that on a case by case basis,” General Brice said. “Priorities are as stated. The sub and ISS crews are not going to last forever. And, sorry, they have more critical skills than the average cruisegoer. You do not clear liners, which takes forever, at the expense of the mission. Captain Smith?”

“Are you looking for my concurrence, General?” Steve said. “I concur. And we can roll the light boat flotillas at any time. Marines have been rearmed and while the Gitmo Marines haven’t had much down time, I’m sure they can roll at any time.”

“Mission is to secure vaccine materials and other medical supplies from small islands in the Caribbean, focusing on the Leeward Islands,” General Brice said. “Supplemental but priority mission to clear an island, Anguilla is our suggestion, to recover the ISS capsule and the personnel. Which will require a quarantine facility as well. Force structure and commander shall be designated by squadron commander. Mission may engage in rescue, including hard clearance rescue, so long as it does not interfere or degrade primary mission. Mission commander can use discretion on target size. Wolf?”

“Light boat Wings,” Steve said. “All five. Supported by the Grace Tan and Money for Nothing. Marine force can use the bunks on the Grace Tan. Overall Command, Colonel Hamilton. Critical personnel, Mr. Walker, who is already in the light boat flotilla, and Ensign Smith, ditto. Lieutenant Fontana will remain with the squadron to begin establishing conditions for the coming baby wave, which we need to keep in mind. Try to leave refugees either in place or centralized on one island. We’ve spare weapons from one place or another and mission commander can arm refugees with said weapons and ammo for defense against the infected as he sees fit. Questions?”

“Operation name,” Isham said, looking at his notes. He looked up and shrugged. “It’s a military thing, right?”

“It’s a military thing, yes,” General Brice said, smiling slightly.

“Operation Leeward Sweep,” Steve said, shrugging. “Not like we need to keep it secret or anything. Although…” He paused in thought. “We do need to keep the ISS thing secure.”

“Sir?” Hamilton said, frowning.

“General Brice withheld the information about the ISS due to morale concerns,” Steve said. “Given that six plus billion people just died, that we lost the people on the ISS is just a blip. Knowing that they could get back was what was withheld with the cover of ‘they already came back.’ That morale issue remains. We’ll have to do all the preparations without explaining why. Give orders. Do not inform your personnel, until the last possible moment, of the purpose. They should get a chance to see it inbound. But there’s a good possibility that some aspect of this, besides the final landing, may fail. If it fails before it comes into sight, call it a drill and carry on. Understood?”

“We’ll get it done, sir,” Colonel Hamilton said.

“However, time is awasting and we need to get started.”

“At this point I think the better is the enemy of the good,” Steve said. “General?”

“Concur,” Brice said. “Good luck. SAC is out.”

“I’m not sure what I’m going to tell my people,” Sophia said. “Going to get a lot of questions.”

“Leave that up to me, ma’am,” the sergeant major growled. “Of course, you may have to sit on Seaman Apprentice Zelenova.”

“Olga I can manage,” Sophia said.

“Any issues, Lieutenant Smith?” Steve asked.

“No, sir,” Faith barked. “We will proceed in a gung ho manner, Captain. Or my Marines will regret the day they were born, sir. Personally looking forward to a stroll in the dark.”

“Oorah,” Walker said, stifling a chuckle.

“Remember that the better is the enemy of the good in this,” Smith said, standing up. “Meeting adjourned.”

“St. Croix…maybe,” Faith muttered, looking at the screen. “St. Martin, no God-damned way…”

“Busy, Sis?” Sophia asked, tapping on the open office hatch.

“Colonel Hamilton has me figuring out which islands we’re going to conquer,” Faith said, snarling. “Since they’re on the way, he had me add in Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands. First of all I have to figure out where all these damn medical schools are, then figure out, by eyeball, if I think they’re clearable. Then I’ve got to figure out how much ammo and supplies we’re going to need!”

“Which is what I’ve got to do,” Sophia said. “Figure out how much fifty we’re going to need. My suggestion of ‘why not just fill the gunboats with double that on the Grace’ was not taken well. Anyway, I need to know what the targets are so I can submit a requisition for ammo that, coincidentally, is ‘fill up the gunboats with double that on the Grace.’”

“So hurry up?” Faith snapped.

“No,” Sophia said, sighing. “This is called ‘coordination.’ We’re supposed to work together.”

“Oh, joy,” Faith said.

“Can I suggest a shortcut?” Sophia said.

“Think you’re smarter than I am, as usual?” Faith said, then winced. “Sorry, Soph. I know you’re smarter than I am. I just hate this paperwork crap. I agree with you. Just take all the ammo and food we can load and figure out the rest later. But if you think you know which islands to clear…?”

“It’s not that,” Sophia said. “Just… You think Nevis is clearable?”

“Yes,” Faith said. “The towns aren’t all that big. I’m sort of worried about Zylons infiltrating behind us, but…yeah. Not even tough.”

“Bring up a spreadsheet,” Sophia said, pulling up a chair. “Now, you said St. Croix, maybe. St. Martin?”

“No damned way,” Faith said. “Or…it looks like it would just take a hell of a long time and ammo…”

“Right, you got population and area of those islands…?”

“I hate you, Sis,” Faith said about thirty minutes later. “I really do.”

The answer lay in the combination of population density and area. Even with an intensely populated island, which none of them were, it was possible to clear one if the area of the island wasn’t too great and the building structures weren’t overlarge. Really it was just a matter of finding the population density and maximum population. Which boiled down to “Nevis, yes, St. Martin, no.” Various other islands fell into similar categories with a few in the “maybe” column.

“I hate you, too, Faith,” Sophia said, smiling. “Want the really bad part?”

“What?” Faith asked.

“Hang on…” Sophia said, going to the main menu. A couple of seconds later a video screen came up. “Hi, COB!”

“Hello, Ensign Smith,” the COB of the Alexandria replied. “Am I finally getting a chance to meet your sister?”

“That you are, COB,” Sophia said. “Lieutenant Faith Smith, Chief Petty Officer James LeRoy, Chief of Boat of the Alexandria.”

“Pleasure to meet with you, Chief,” Faith said, nodding at the video screen.

“Same to you, Lieutenant,” the troll-like chief said, his face creaking into what might have been a smile. “You and your sister have been real morale boosters when we needed it. So to what do I owe the pleasure, ma’ams?”

“Your guys got some time on their hands?” Sophia asked.

“Too much,” LeRoy replied.

“Faith has been assigned to determine better and worse targets for possible clearance in Eastern Caribbean. We’ve come up with a matrix of size and population density with known max/mins. Think your guys could refine it down a bit for us?”

“Cheating on your homework, again, Ensign?” LeRoy said, smiling.

“Cross-check, Chief,” Sophia said. “And something for your guys to do. Besides, we’re officers. We’re supposed to buff our nails while enlisted do all the work.”

“Shoot the rough over,” the chief said, clearly trying not to break his expression. “I’ll make sure you’re on the right track, ma’am.”

“Thanks, Chief,” Sophia said, closing the connection.

“You cheat?” Faith asked.

“If you ain’t cheatin’, you ain’t tryin’,” Sophia said. “The point, Sis, is first let computers do as much of the work for you as you can get them to do, and don’t hesitate to reach out to people who a.) have time on their hands and b.) are going to be much better than either of us at doing this. You need to know how to do it, don’t get me wrong. But wasting your time crunching numbers that the sub crews can crunch isn’t, in fact, what an officer is supposed to be doing with her time. You figured out, basically, what is and is not doable. The model. Nevis is doable, St. Martin isn’t. That’s what you know and they don’t and you put it in a form that gives them an outline. Now let them work inside those parameters to pick out possible targets and you refine that down. Because the next step is figuring out how much ammo and materials we’re going to need.”

“Aaagh,” Faith said, clutching her head. “I hate logistics! No, I take it back. If you’ve got enough ammo, you’re good. You just steal the rest.”

“Oh, good God, Sis,” Sophia said. “It’s not that hard.”

“Sophia,” Faith said carefully. “Seriously. First of all, you’ve always been the brain. I admit that, okay. Just like you’d admit I can kick your ass, right?”

“You’ve done it enough times,” Sophia said, frowning.

“Second, you were in high school. I was barely working with fractions and they still give me a headache.”

“You want to be an officer or not?” Sophia asked. “Serious question.”

Faith thought about it for a long few seconds.

“Yes,” Faith said. “I’d sort of like to be a grunt and there’s… Yes. So I guess you’re saying I’ve got to get smarter?”

“Just willing to learn, Faith,” Sophia said. “I know you get headaches with this stuff. Pain is…”

“Weakness leaving the body,” Faith said. “So how do we figure out how much stuff we need?”

“Fortunately, we have the Canaries to draw on as an example,” Sophia said, going into the server and hunting through files. “This is it. This is all the ammo and material we used in the Canaries by operation. Okay, I’m not going to do this for you. How do we use this stuff to figure out how much we’re going to need?”

Faith just looked at her for a second. Sophia hated that look.

“Is this a word problem?” Faith said. “I hate word problems.”

“Yes, this is a word problem,” Sophia said, trying not to sigh. “Life is a word problem. Okay, okay, hint. How big is Charlestown?”

“You mean in Nevis?” Faith said, starting to look it up then pausing. “Oh, Walker knew that. Fifteen hundred or so. How did he know that, you know?”

“Just… Let’s skip the subject of Walker for right now,” Sophia said uncomfortably. “Okay, fifteen hundred. What was the population of, say, San Sebastian de la Gomera?”

“I have no idea,” Faith said.

“Faith, I’m not going to hold your hand the whole time,” Sophia said. “Try to think.”

“I don’t remember ever seeing it,” Faith said.

“So…”

“I don’t have an internet to look it up, Sophia!” Faith snapped. “You know where I can get an atlas that would have it?”

“Oh, good God, Faith!” Sophia said. “Do you mean you haven’t been accessing the Hole?”

“We can access the Hole?” Faith asked.

“They’ve got a massive database which is accessible to all military personnel,” Sophia said, shaking her head. “I mean, a bunch of it’s classified of course… Okay, type in your network password….”

“Don’t look,” Faith said, shifting her shoulder. She slowly typed in a long password.

“Maybe you should go for enlisted,” Sophia said, shaking her head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Faith snapped.

“‘I love Gregory Januscheitis’ is not what you call the most secure password,” Sophia said. “Not to mention kind of being an issue since you’re an officer and he’s enlisted.”

“Hah, if that’s all you know!” Faith said. “It’s got a 1 for the I and two dashes.”

“How in the hell did we come from the same parents?” Sophia asked. “I swear you have to be adopted. Okay, click on the link that says… What?”

“What?” Faith said, looking at a series of named buttons.

“What are we looking for?” Sophia asked.

“I don’t…Wait…Population of…Gomera.”

“Pre-Plague, mind you, although…I wonder if the secure areas might have infected populations, that would be useful…So, what is population data in terms of those icons?”

Faith searched through the buttons.

“Oh,” Faith said, clicking one. “Human geography.”

“Got it,” Sophia said.

“I don’t see Canary Islands…”

“Try Spain,” Sophia said, trying not to sigh.

“Oh, yeah,” Faith said. “Spain…Canary Islands…Gomera…San Sebastian de la Gomera…about eight thousand.”

“How much ammo did we use?” Sophia asked.

She got the look again but Faith flipped over and checked the other sheet.

“Holy cow,” Faith said. “We used thirty-five thousand rounds of fifty-cal in Gomera?”

“And you guys used another nine thousand rounds of seven-six-two and six thousand of five-five-six,” Sophia pointed out. “For about eight thousand residents before the Plague.”

“I start to get Gunny’s whole thing about one shot, one kill,” Faith said, poking around the data. “I thought so. We only use an average of ten rounds to the population of a liner…Some of that, not much, was on the Bo….”

“Most of the ‘inhabitants’ of a liner are, sorry, dead,” Sophia pointed out. “And it’s real short range. But you’re on the right track. To figure out how many rounds we’re going to need for the operation…”

“How many rounds of each caliber per kill?” Faith said.

“Per population of the town before the Plague which is the only hard data we’ve got,” Sophia corrected. “And it’s different, like you said. Liners are different but the towns are different, too.”

“So…averages,” Faith said. “Figure out how many rounds we used per pre-plague citizen of the towns at each town and then figure it out for the towns and islands we’re going to take. Agh. Spreadsheets and spreadsheets…”

“But you’ve figured out what we need in terms of data, right?” Sophia said.

“Yeah,” Faith said.

“Can you write it out as an equation?” Sophia asked.

“I think so,” Faith said. “I’m not sure about the right, you know, notification or whatever. But it’s like rounds used by type versus the pre-Plague populations and then get an average?”

“Okay, what we do is we write that up and we get the subs to do it,” Sophia said.

“Again with the subs,” Faith said.

“One, they’re nukes,” Sophia said. “They’re serious math guys. This is actually too easy for them. Two, they’re bored. Three, they feel like they’re not really contributing. This does help. But you figured out what we needed in terms of information. Which is what officers are for. Okay, other supplies.”

“Seriously, we can probably scavenge for most of it,” Faith said. “We’re going to need ammo and if we’re going to do the liners, probably batteries. Food, water, fuel…there’s boats and stores.”

“Not as much fuel stores as you might think,” Sophia said. “We were having a hard time finding those in the Canaries. The tanks at the marinas were mostly dry ’cause people tanked up and ran.”

“Fuel…we just load up the Grace Tan? What’s it’s max tankage?”

“Which is pretty much the answer we’re going to have to give,” Sophia said. “Fortunately, we do have fuel here at the base. The tanks are almost topped up. Water? These islands don’t have much.”

“They reconfigured Gitmo as a disaster support base,” Faith said, grinning and diving into the server for another file. “I was talking about it with Smitty. There are diesel powered water filtration systems, big ones, big enough to supply a small town. We’ll take some of those along with us on the Grace. That gives us water. There are…five of them in a warehouse over by Grenadillo.”

“Put in a requisition for them,” Sophia said. “Okay, food, yeah, we can probably scavenge. But we need a base supply. Enough for the unit for, say, thirty days…”