Carnifex. Part 44

15/6/468 AC, BdL Dos Lindas, Hajipur, Sind "I don' know, skipper," the master of the ship fitting company said, shaking his head. The master was an old man. Underneath his turbaned head, Fosa thought, his hair was likely as gray as his beard.

The Dos Lindas Dos Lindas rode at dock, Cazadors guarding from the landward side while corvettes and the rode at dock, Cazadors guarding from the landward side while corvettes and the Agustin Agustin watched to seaward. Getting her here? Through one of the worst storms in the history of the Sea of Sind? With waves battering at the temporary patch welded over the spot where the watched to seaward. Getting her here? Through one of the worst storms in the history of the Sea of Sind? With waves battering at the temporary patch welded over the spot where the Ikhwan Ikhwan cruise missile had struck home? That would take a volume. Suffice to say that there were a lot more cruise missile had struck home? That would take a volume. Suffice to say that there were a lot more Cruces de Coraje Cruces de Coraje earned by the crew. Some heroism was never recorded. For that, for those unknowns washed over the side, Carrera had issued the first unit citation in the history of the earned by the crew. Some heroism was never recorded. For that, for those unknowns washed over the side, Carrera had issued the first unit citation in the history of the Legion del Cid. Legion del Cid.

"I don' know," the master repeated, tapping the temporary patches on the flight deck with his cane and he and Fosa toured the ship with an eye to damages and estimates. "It gonna cost."

"That's not the point," Fosa said. "I don't care what it costs, as long as my fleet isn't being cheated. The point is, can you repair my ship?"

"We do flight deck, hull, hangar deck" the master shipfitter, answered, with a shrug. "Those...easy. Cut sections from old ship up coast; drag down. Weld into place. Paint. My people tell me can replace lost AZIPOD, if you buy, and fix other. Have to wait for dry-dock open up but...no sweat. Form and weld on new gun tubs? Also, no sweat. Replace guns? You get guns, we replace. Radar? You get radar; we replace. Same, same; laser up top. Got nephew at SIT, Sind Inst.i.tute Technology. He good with s.h.i.t like that. Him got friends good, too."

"Buuut?" Fosa asked.

"But got build new f.u.c.king elevator from scratch. Hard. Tough. Expensive. Never do before."

"Hmmm. What if someone made an elevator and shipped it here?" Fosa asked.

"Like other s.h.i.t; you get elevator; we replace."

17/6/468 AC, Kamakura, Yamato "Kurita did request, in his last will and testament, that we continue to support the ronin ronin as much as possible," Yamagata said. as much as possible," Yamagata said.

"I know," Saito agreed, "and it's hardly that grand a request. The problem is that n.o.body here has made or designed an elevator for an aircraft carrier in decades. Many Many decades. And the decades. And the ronin ronin need their elevator need their elevator now now. Between design, tooling up, and actual production, we're looking at half a year to a year."

"And no one makes elevators like this anymore, do they?" Yamagata asked, rhetorically.

Saito shook his head in the negative. "The nearest thing to what the ronin ronin need-or, in any event, could use-is a side mounted elevator the Federated States put on some of their amphibious carriers. The ship, however, is not designed for that." need-or, in any event, could use-is a side mounted elevator the Federated States put on some of their amphibious carriers. The ship, however, is not designed for that."

"Could it be modified?"

"I have sent a naval engineer to enquire. There is also one other possibility that gets them an elevator quickly and gives us time to have one custom designed and built."

20/6/468 AC, Isla Real and Bay of Balboa The waters quaked with the pounding of newly christened BdL Tadeo Kurita Tadeo Kurita at gunnery practice a few miles away. From the bridge of the conning tower of the spare carrier, never given a name but referred to simply at BdEL1( at gunnery practice a few miles away. From the bridge of the conning tower of the spare carrier, never given a name but referred to simply at BdEL1(Barco del Entrenamiento Legionario Numero Uno, Legionary Training Ship Number One), the exec of the Cla.s.sis Don John Cla.s.sis Don John could see the top of could see the top of Isla Santa Josefina Isla Santa Josefina, the artillery impact island. The place was wreathed in smoke and flame, only the crest of the central ma.s.sif visible, and that not all the time.

Overhead came a near continuous freight train rumble as Tadeo Kurita Tadeo Kurita lobbed salvo after salvo toward the impact area island. If the lobbed salvo after salvo toward the impact area island. If the cla.s.sis cla.s.sis exec cared to, he could have climbed topside and seen the cruiser as she fired. Even in daytime, the clouds above flickered with an orange glow with each broadside. exec cared to, he could have climbed topside and seen the cruiser as she fired. Even in daytime, the clouds above flickered with an orange glow with each broadside.

On the bridge, the exec studied diagrams of the ship. The schematics were old and the paper crisp and yellow with age. Worse, they were in Portuguese which was more or less intelligible to Spanish speakers, but always a strain.

"Ah, well," muttered the exec. "Could have been worse. Could have been in something uncivilized...like English English."

And with that, the exec set himself to solving the problem of how to disa.s.semble a major component of one ship, the elevator, get it loaded aboard another ship, somehow, and move it to a foreign harbor wherein sat a third ship, the Dos Lindas. Dos Lindas.

f.u.c.king Fosa; thought the thought the cla.s.sis cla.s.sis exec. exec. What kind of miracle worker does he think I am? Worse, how the f.u.c.k am I supposed to train replacement crew here with only one working elevator? What kind of miracle worker does he think I am? Worse, how the f.u.c.k am I supposed to train replacement crew here with only one working elevator?

The exec heard something very soft behind him. He turned and saw the Yamatan engineer, Keiji Higara, pensively tapping his lips while looking out across the bay at where a seaborne crane was in the process of removing turrets from one of those Suvarov Cla.s.s cruisers not schedule for refit.

"I am idiot," Keiji announced.

"Why's that, Hig?" the exec asked.

"I been worried...you know...getting this ship someplace where is crane powerful enough lift the elevator a.s.sembly out from hull. That was problem since docking facilities in Ciudad Ciudad Balboa under...enemy control. Then, too, ship immobile. And whole time I been worrying...there was Balboa under...enemy control. Then, too, ship immobile. And whole time I been worrying...there was that that." He pointed at the crane ship.

"You mean we can do it."

In answer, Higara snapped his fingers.

33/6/468 AC, Quarters Number 2, Isla Real "Look, it only makes sense, Patricio," Jimenez said, punctuating with a snap of his fingers. "I'm shipping over to Pashtia with the Fourth Legion in the not too distant future. So I'll have no use or need for this big old white elephant. Even when I come back, what do I need? A bedroom? An office? Someplace to eat? Artemisia and Mac can give me all that, right here. And And they'll have a place to stay suitable for their position." they'll have a place to stay suitable for their position."

Jimenez, Lourdes, and Carrera sat on the upper balcony, looking over the parade field. On the table between them was a bucket of ice and some scotch. The air was heavy, both with the natural humidity and the smoke of Xavier's and Carrera's cigars.

"Have you mentioned this to them them, Xavier? Mac's a serious stickler for protocol and propriety." Carrera asked, wearily, flicking an ash over the railing and onto the lawn. He'd just flown in this morning from Pashtia with the tail end of 1st and 2 and 2nd Legions and was clearly feeling the toll of both the long flight and the time zone change. Legions and was clearly feeling the toll of both the long flight and the time zone change.

"No," Jimenez admitted. "Why should I? It's your your house and house and your your Legion; Legion; you you get to decide." get to decide."

It does make a certain sense, Carrera admitted to himself. I get to billet my best friends and number one and two subordinates right next door where I can hara.s.s them mercilessly. Mac gets a house to go with the wife he's getting. Artemisia-G.o.d, she's achingly good to look at, isn't she?-gets the house she probably deserves. Probably? No probably about it. She makes my sergeant major happy and she deserves whatever I can give her. I get to billet my best friends and number one and two subordinates right next door where I can hara.s.s them mercilessly. Mac gets a house to go with the wife he's getting. Artemisia-G.o.d, she's achingly good to look at, isn't she?-gets the house she probably deserves. Probably? No probably about it. She makes my sergeant major happy and she deserves whatever I can give her.

Jimenez continued, "Besides, Pat, Mac's living in the senior centurion's bachelor quarters. That's no place to raise a family and if you want your sergeant major happy you had better make his wife happy...and Arti wants a family. Soon. As soon as possible."

Jimenez smiled and then began to give off a most unmilitary giggle.

"What's so funny?"

With some difficulty, Xavier got control of himself and answered, "I was just thinking about how badly Arti wants to bear Mac's children. It isn't like they didn't start work on that months months ago." ago."

So much for Lourdes giving them the use of a room for privacy, Carrera thought, drily, looking over at his wife. She, too, was laughing, even while she tried hiding her face with her hand. Carrera thought, drily, looking over at his wife. She, too, was laughing, even while she tried hiding her face with her hand.

"Well, Patricio, I tried tried," she said.

"What about when you get married?" Carrera asked.

Jimenez snorted. "What sane woman would marry me? Not an issue, Patricio; it's never going to happen. Besides, I'm married to the Fourth and that's b.i.t.c.h enough for me-no offense, Lourdes. No...I'll be just fine as a sometime guest here."

Carrera shrugged, thinking, No...actually you won't be a sometime guest here, since we're going to be moving the legions to the mainland over the next year. So...I suppose...why not? No...actually you won't be a sometime guest here, since we're going to be moving the legions to the mainland over the next year. So...I suppose...why not?

"Yeah...okay," he conceded. "Mac and Arti can have Number Two. Now that she's about to be married at least the young signifers and tribunes will stop trying to serenade her under her window."

"Tell me about it," Jimenez said. "I mean, it wouldn't be so bad if they could sing sing."

Quarters Number One Lourdes hummed the wedding march softly to herself as she crossed the hundred and twenty meters from her old home, Number Two, to Number One. Having Mac and Arti as next door neighbors was going to be great; she just knew it.

And, better still, when they thump the bed against the wall all night, I won't be able to hear it. Besides, it reminds me of what I am missing when Patricio is away.

Entering by the front door, Lourdes took one look at McNamara and Artemisia-coming down the stairs arm and arm, he looking guilty and she like the cat who fell into the vat of cream-and she started laughing again. She ran to the nearest room, her husband's library, to hide her discomposure. She closed the door behind her and covered her mouth again to try to stifle her laughter.

"What's so funny, Mama?" little Hamilcar asked, looking up from one of his father's books.

"I'll tell you when you're older," Lourdes answered. Curious, she walked over to the desk and picked up the book that her son had been reading. That he was reading was no surprise; the child had been literate for almost two years. The t.i.tle, however, she found worrisome; The Battle of Kuantan The Battle of Kuantan by Tadeo Kurita. by Tadeo Kurita.

Can it be genetic, somehow? she wondered, suddenly growing utterly serious and seriously worried. she wondered, suddenly growing utterly serious and seriously worried. Did my son inherit his father's taste for battle? G.o.d, please don't take my baby from me. He's not even five yet. Did my son inherit his father's taste for battle? G.o.d, please don't take my baby from me. He's not even five yet.

After his mother had left, Hamilcar returned to his reading. Kurita's dry account of the exchange between his battlecruiser and the Federated States Navy's superdreadnought, Andrew Jackson Andrew Jackson, soon had the boy quivering with excitement and a wordless longing to be be there, to trade shot for shot and blow for blow. Never mind that he was, half ways, from the Federated States, nor that his other half had had little involvement in the Great Global War. It was the battle, itself, that drew him. And, he already knew, it always would. there, to trade shot for shot and blow for blow. Never mind that he was, half ways, from the Federated States, nor that his other half had had little involvement in the Great Global War. It was the battle, itself, that drew him. And, he already knew, it always would.

He knew, too, that he already understood things that were forever barred to most human beings, at any age. He understood, instinctively, without Kurita explaining it, what it meant to cross the Jackson Jackson's T and why Kurita had accepted a couple of bad hits to get his own ship in position to do that. Hamilcar understood, without anyone explaining it, the logistic and time-s.p.a.ce factors that had dictated why the Battle of Kuantan had happened where it had and when it had.

In short, Hamilcar Carrera-Nunez already knew, at age four, that he had the knack knack.

He closed the book, sighing, and thought, Mama and I need to have a long talk. Mama and I need to have a long talk.

4/7/468 AC, Main Parade Field, Isla Real "I've seen you under fire, Sergeant Major, and I've never seen you look nervous like today."

"Sir...f.u.c.k you, sir," McNamara answered. "T'isn't every day a man gets married. And it's almost never a man marries a woman like Artemisia. If I'm nervous..."

"You have a right to be, Mac," Carrera answered, gently. "I just like pulling your leg and needling you. Because, you know, if I didn't know you were watching me, there's a half dozen times, over the years, that I'd have been gibbering. By G.o.d, I've a right right to needle you. If only for the G.o.dd.a.m.ned bed thumping that's kept me up every night but the last few." to needle you. If only for the G.o.dd.a.m.ned bed thumping that's kept me up every night but the last few."

To that McNamara had no answer, but only a sort of a question. "It worries me, sir, you know? I'm pushing sixty. She's less t'an half my age. I've got to, you know...get the gettin' while the gettin's good. T'e day's not long off..."

"My a.s.s."

A white tent sat not far from where McNamara and Carrera traded jibes and worries. In the tent Lourdes and a bevy of bridesmaids fussed and fluttered around Artemisia Jimenez, fluffing, primping, and generally polishing. She looked amazing.

"Does my a.s.s look fat in this, Lourdes?" Artemisia asked, worriedly.

Lourdes looked. I should have such an a.s.s I should have such an a.s.s, she thought. Then she looked again. "No, Arti, your rear end is not fat. But unless I'm much mistaken you've grown a bra cup size. How many months along are you."

Artemisia smiled wickedly. "Six weeks. I had had to, don't you see? He might have backed out." to, don't you see? He might have backed out."

"Does Mac know?"

"I was going to tell him tonight. Otherwise, he'll be so worried about me...h.e.l.l, this is John McNamara we're talking about; he'd be so embarra.s.sed embarra.s.sed at our being caught jumping the gun; he'd probably blow his lines. And those, he at our being caught jumping the gun; he'd probably blow his lines. And those, he must must get right." get right."

"And besides," Lourdes said, drily, "if he screws this up enough to delay the wedding, you'll need a new dress, won't you?"

Artemisia dimpled. "So you see my point in not upsetting him, right?"

"You've upset the signifers and some of the tribunes," Carrera said, pointing with his chin at two sets of bleachers filled to overflowing with sixty or more junior officers, all in dress whites and every man wearing a black armband.

"Young punks," McNamara said, when he saw.

"It's a compliment, Sergeant Major. Take it that way."

"I suppose so," he admitted, with bad grace. "T'ough if t'ey t'tought about it, t'ey'd realize t'eir lives are about to get a lot more pleasant when I have somet'ing to do besides ride t'eir t'eir a.s.ses." a.s.ses."

"That's one way to look at it," Carrera agreed. "They really ought-" He hushed suddenly, even as the crowd did (for ringing the field there were thousands thousands of legionaries, plus their families, who had come to watch). of legionaries, plus their families, who had come to watch).

Artemisia, escorted by her uncle, Xavier, brilliant in his dress whites, had emerged from the tent. Lourdes followed, as did another eleven girls, about half and half Arti's close in-laws and the girls she had competed against for Miss Balboa. In the bleachers, sixty signifers and junior tribunes looked at the procession and suddenly had the same thought: Well...there Well...there are are some other opportunities out there. some other opportunities out there.

"You are such such a lucky b.a.s.t.a.r.d, Top. I believe that's the only woman I've ever seen to match my Linda." a lucky b.a.s.t.a.r.d, Top. I believe that's the only woman I've ever seen to match my Linda."

The band of the Legion del Cid, Legion del Cid, mercifully sans drums and bagpipes, picked up the wedding march. mercifully sans drums and bagpipes, picked up the wedding march.

Oh, G.o.d, I'm so so nervous nervous, thought Artemisia as she led her party forward along the carpets laid to protect her shoes and dress from the gra.s.s. What if I'm not a good wife? What if he gets tired of me? What if...? What if I'm not a good wife? What if he gets tired of me? What if...?

Stop being an idiot, Arti, you and he are perfect perfect together. It's going to be wonderful. together. It's going to be wonderful.

But what if my t.i.ts sag after the baby comes?

Then you get pregnant again and reinflate them.

But what if he get tired of my cooking?

Then you hire a cook. Lourdes already said that Patricio's gift to us is "impressive and of many parts." Besides, John's salary with the Legion, plus his retired pay from the FS Army, is huge huge by Balboan standards. And I can work, too. And then, too, Uncle Xavier is going to contribute. by Balboan standards. And I can work, too. And then, too, Uncle Xavier is going to contribute.

But what if-?

"I'm sooo glad t'at's over, sir," McNamara whispered.

Carrera answered, "Men don't not enjoy the ceremony, generally, Top, but endure it because of the state it formalizes. By the way, did you know you're going to be a daddy?"

Mac sighed, embarra.s.sed. "She hasn't told me, but, yeah...I kinda figured it out."

Smiling, Carrera chided, "Bad, wicked, naughty sergeant major. Bad, wicked, evil, naughty, bad, bad, bad sergeant major. You should be ashamed. Oh...and Lourdes and I would like to stand as G.o.dparents, if that's okay with you and Arti."

"We'd be honored, sir."

"You got to be focking s.h.i.ttin' me, sir. I mean...well...we knew Lourdes had set up the honeymoon but..."

Carrera just smiled as there, on the parade field, a smallish airship descended and lowered ropes to half a dozen waiting heavy-duty recovery trucks packed to the brim with sandbags. Chartering the thing had cost a not-inconsiderable fortune but for his his sergeant major, no expense was too great. sergeant major, no expense was too great.