To Sail a Darkling Sea

sail away. As long as you are not further known to engage in hostilities, stay away from us, don’t pirate vessels, and don’t kill uninfected, we’ll let bygones be bygones. Come to our attention in a negative way and you will be dealt with. As I believe Lieutenant Smith pointed out, we have ‘go away’ and ‘death’ as our only current penalties. This is the ‘go away’ option. You have fifteen minutes to prepare.”

The heavyset man was on the back upper deck, by the entrance to the main saloon. He still had the hand- set Rusty had been carrying.

“Do you know who I am? I am Nazar Lavrenty! This is my yacht. You speak of piracy but you are stealing my yacht.”

“I didn’t know who you were until I contacted higher,” Vancel replied. “They, in turn, contacted the Russians they are in communication with. General Kazimov’s response was ебать твою мать.”

The man was waving his arms and shouting into the radio.

“KAZIMOV! KAZIMOV? HE IS NOT THE RUSSIAN GOVERNMENT!”

“Think that name touches a nerve?” Paula said, grinning.

“Sounds like it,” Sophia said.

“He is what is left,” Vancel radioed. “We might have tried to work with you and left you in some control of the vessel, which we need, had you not shown your inability to be trusted. This has been authorized by higher, and what remains of the Russian government. That is all there is to it. You have fifteen minutes or US Marines will perform a hostile boarding. If you survive that you shall be given a very brief trial, shot, and dumped over the side. The clock starts now.”

The sailboat was brought alongside. Some of the crew on the Money caught the tossed lines and secured it while the Wolf crew unassed into a dinghy and headed back to the Large.

In a bit more than fifteen minutes, “Lavrenty” came out with his henchmen and the same number of women.

“Coincidence?” Paula said. “I don’t think so.”

“Lavrenty, leave the women on the yacht. Board the sailboat with your personnel. Put the women on the radio, one by one, on the upper aft deck away from the sailboat with the radio. We have to have assurances they are not under duress. Do not attempt to exit the boat while we are getting those assurances. The machine-gun crew on the Large will take you under fire if you try to exit.”

“These are girlfriends. And they don’t speak English.”

“You’d be surprised how many translators survived,” Vancel replied. “Pick a language. It was not a request.”

The following conversation was in foreign languages. Most of them, after a few gabbled words, dropped the, fortunately robust, radio and darted back into the interior of the yacht. Only two went with Lavrenty in the end.

“They’re going to be busy,” Paula said, drily. “Not that they weren’t already.”

Most of the women were visibly pregnant.

“What happens in the compartment,” Sophia said. “I sincerely doubt any of them were virgins before they got on that boat.”

“Point.”

There was a good bit of arm waving and angst onboard the Knotty Problem. Apparently, while it was supplied, the supply crew had not bothered to clean it up. Then there was the issue of the women. One of the “henchmen” slapped one of the women right in front of God and everybody which earned him a burst of machine-gun fire from the Large. Finally the aptly named sailboat started up its engines and putted away from the megayacht.

“If there are any qualified crewmen left onboard, could you pick up the radio, please… ”

* * *

“Permission to come aboard?” Sophia said, tossing the line of the dinghy to a sailor on the wash deck of the megayacht.

“Come aboard, please.” The woman waiting on the wash deck was gorgeous. Most notable were long, incredibly shapely legs. “I am Olga Zelenova, and you are…?”

“No Tan Lines,” Sophia said, hopping onto the deck.

“Never leave the boat” referred to boardings of hostile or potentially hostile vessels. Not boarding the new flagship of the flotilla.

“I… yes, I have no tan… What?” Olga said, confused.

“Sorry,” Sophia said. “It’s a Navy thing. I’m the skipper of the No Tan Lines. Acting Ensign Third Class Sophia Smith.”

“Ah,” Olga said, brightening up. “The boat which found us. Thank you. Yes, ‘You may have a rocket launcher but I have a submarine.’ Very funny. And, yes, Nazar was, as you say, a ‘fucktard.’ ”

“You know where the meeting’s at?” Sophia asked.

“This way,” Olga said. “I am greeting the visitors.”

“Nice,” Sophia said as they entered the main saloon. “Much nicer than the Alpha. Of course, you never got overrun with infected.”

The saloon had taken a beating in use, no question. But it was still reasonably clean and very very ornate. And huge. If anything it was bigger than the Alpha’s. Now that the ship was under power again, it was even pleasantly air conditioned.

“It is very nice,” Olga said. “At first. When you are on here with no power or water and people you really did not like in the first place… It is less nice. I am pleased there is new ownership.”

“Were you one of the ones Lavrenty tried to run off with?” Sophia asked.

“Yes,” Olga said, frowning. “I do not want to go. But they still had guns, you know, pistols. And they are… brutal. Still, all has come out well.”

“I don’t know about well,” Sophia said as they entered the massive dining room. “But better.”

“Lieutenant,” Kuzma said, waving to a chair.

“I’m not late, am I?” Sophia asked.

“No,” Kuzma said. “And we’re still waiting on Captain Sava. Miss Zelenova, if you could see where the captain’s got to?”

“Sava?” Sophia asked when the girl had left the room.

“Skipper of this,” Captain Lloyd A. Behm II said.

“Who is, probably, going to keep on being the skipper,” Kuzma said. “With some security onboard, of course.”

“I am sorry I am late.” The skipper of the ship was medium height with dark black hair and a heavily muscled body. “One of the water pumps is still not working. I was discussing it with the chief engineer.”

“You’re actually right on time,” Kuzma said. “All right, everyone, Captain Vladan Sava, skipper of the… akuba…?

“Perhaps ‘Money for Nothing’…?” Captain Sava said. “It is the rough translation.”

“Skipper of the Money for Nothing,” Kuzma said. “From left to right, Captain Behm of the Sea Hooky. Captain Poole of the Noby Dick.”

“Yo,” Gary Poole said, waving. The skipper of the awkwardly-named 73' Arquela was tall, still quite emaciated, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a broad-brimmed straw hat. “So wish tradition let me change the name… ”

After Sophia had decided it would honor the owners to keep the name “No Tan Lines,” the tradition had stuck fast. Captain Poole just happened to draw a very short straw.

“Captain Richard Estep of the N2 Deep. Captain Elias Rostad of the One Toy Two Many. And Captain Richard Purser of the Finally Fishin’.”