We quickly gathered, just after the stacks, on the second level after hastily erecting flimsy barricades with lounge chairs, tables and whatever else that wasn’t nailed down on the first level. Wasting no time we distributed the all that was left of the additional ammunition supplies the Chinese had prudently brought along. Stevens, one of the three remaining technicians, gave each fire team an I.E.D. (improvised explosive device) that he had concocted during our short time on board the G.M.
The I.E.D.’s consisted of chemicals and materials taken from the ship’s machine-shop, kitchen and tropical green house and ‘a little something special’ as Stevens described it. Each of the four ‘special packages’ was attached to a grouping of six propane tanks from one of the ship’s kitchen’s. The I.E.D.’s were positioned at the base of the towering stacks.
Portly looked extremely sour as his scanner and lap-top had been taken away by his boss, Doctor Favre Palmer. Doctor Palmer was a skinny greasy-haired technician with wire-framed glasses and more brains than balls. He being head of the tech-team single-handedly decided that he was too valuable and should be extracted first along with all the valuable data “he” (meaning Portly) had gleaned from the G.M. As such he decided to wait on the helipad, the place furthest from the intended engagement, while the other two remaining technicians, Portly and Stevens, remained on the second level trying desperately to restore the satellite communications with the PWR Operations Command Centre in New York City or the in-bound USS Stennis; where our Arch-angel transports waited for our call. Thus far they had only been able to partially restore our short-range COMMs.
Hunched over a metal ammo-box, searching for additional clips for my USP46 side-arm I saw Huck limp over to Portly. Wincing with every step he reached out and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Better give’m here sweet-heart,” he said condescendingly as he un-ceremoniously yanked the Chinese M4A1 rifle away from the protesting technician. “Wouldn’t want you hurt’in yourself now would we?”
Limping towards me on a freshly bandaged but bleeding leg Huck tossed me his OCIWv2,
“The Colonel said to give you a weapon,” he growled. “Heard you lost yours”, he scoffed. “Stupid rookie’ll get us all killed just like Ox.” He muttered audibly as he hobbled off with the superior A1M1 triple pulse assault rifle.
His words stung like a slap to the face.
Suddenly I felt a touch on my shoulder – Sabre. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. It was a discreet consoling gesture that, to me, spoke volumes. Then she said,
“Screw him, Rabbit. You earned the right to be part of this team. Now you just got to start acting like it.” Then she slapped me hard on my back and smiled at me playfully, “So man-up, ya pussy!”
A few minutes later we stood in place behind our ‘make-shift’ barricades roughly twenty metres from the entrances. Two fire-teams on the port-side. The other two on the starboard side. Every few minutes the quiet tension ramped up as a muffled explosion vibrated across the deck. The Podies were setting off motion sensitive bombs the Chinese had planted along the interior decks, that could not be sealed off, in an attempt to deter their advance. Unfortunately this measure had also failed.
As the Podies made their way up through the decks the explosions became louder and the vibrations, along the deck, stronger, punctuating the long tense silences. Ominous reminders of an approaching and relentless danger.
I was part of the starboard side fire-team closest the ramp that led to the huge open entrance where the Podies would emerge. Our temporary designation: F.T.-ONE. F.T.-ONE comprised of me, Sabre, Blade, and the Commander.
Sabre spat out some gum she had been chewing and put on a bright-red ‘Chicago Bulls’ cap she pulled from her vest. Turning it backward she tugged it tightly over her short-cropped blonde hair.
“You know I always thought it would be so cool to work on a cruise ship,” she said softly as she knelt beside me shouldering her rifle.
She actually sounded nervous.
“Really,” I said trying to sound calm. “What do you think now?”
“Honestly…,” she replied grinning. “…I think it might be a bit over-rated.”
Without warning the Colonel’s voice came in over everyone’s Comms.
“Gentlemen, I’m not going to coat this in b.s. As you all know we are trying to re- establish contact with the U.S.S. Stennis. However, at this moment we find ourselves facing an unknown number of adversaries that may or may not be the civilians and crew that were traveling on this ship.”
“Doctor Palmer believes,” he continued slowly, “that these people may have been infected with some sort of virus. And as such cannot be allowed to leave the Gossamer muse. The line has been drawn, People,” the Colonel said somberly.
Sighing sharply Bishop paused thoughtfully continued,
”Do not kill women and children. Do not engage civilians or use them as human shields. These are our rules. . But our enemies do not follow these rules. They say that it is our moral code that differentiates us from our enemies. But today, we do not have the luxury of being better men.”
The Colonel paused to give all of us a chance to come to grips with the grim realization that he was about to give the order to engage civilians with ‘extreme prejudice.’
“As it stands, we are the only thing that stands in the way of these infected people leaving this ship. If the Doctor’s theory is correct we are out-numbered. But know this – regardless of our current situation – no infected will leave this ship. And we will hold this line…at all cost. Aces…, “the Colonel paused for a moment.
“To the last bullet. To our last breath. To the last man. Today we will earn our stories! Now, let’s live to regret them!”
The Colonel punctuated his speech by un-safing and chambering a round in his assault-rifle. The other armed A.C.E. officers responded in kind in unison.
Suddenly the last motion-triggered charge placed at the bottom of the ramp, in front of us detonated with a deafening boom punctuating the Colonel’s brief monologue. The explosion was immediately followed by a spectacular fireworks-like cascade of concrete, plaster, and tempered steel. Then as the dust slowly settled they appeared.
Chapter 8
April 20th 2021
0731 hours
Gossamer Muse Super Cruise-liner
Lido Deck
Advancing silently through the smoldering rubble they moved with a sickly gait. Their naked hair-less, paper-white bodies were covered with dark splotches and varicose veins from head to toe. They were mouth-less with large, lid-less yellow eyes and large gill-like slits on each cheek. Disproportionately muscular shoulders balanced over emaciated abdomens and powerful backward arching legs. The left arm of each podie from the elbow down were shaped like scythes made of bone; while the hands of their right arms were webbed fingers with tapered claws.
They looked disoriented and confused as they stepped out into the open. The head and chest of two Podies out in front exploded with loud wet cracks. A geyser of black blood spewed into the air as they went down. Further behind two small explosions flung Podies into the air. Priest’s artificial voice-synthesizer came over our Comm-link,
“Head-shot’s good.”
Then cougar reported, “Upper centre mass kill-shot confirmed, Sir.”
Acting as our snipers, Cougar and Priest hung from rope-harnesses attached to the rim of each of the two main stacks. Standing horizontally against the stacks, facing downward, they looked as if they