Survivalist - 18 - The Struggle Read Online Free

First City in full strength within twelve hours from now. They must still reel from the blow they have already sustained. Order the commander of our army in Lydveldid Island to consolidate his forces within the Hekla volcanic cone itself and to abandon, then destroy the German Base outside Hekla. I want a full airborne assault force ready to move at a moment’s notice against Eden Base in American Georgia. I want that force ready within twelve hours. A coordinated attack will further sap German military strength. I fly to the Underground City. For troops.”
    Antonovitch quickened his pace to a run, his gunship’s rotor blades turning, snow swirling cyclonically in their downdraft. There was one other possibility, if he could carry it off without losing everything. If he could make contact…
    Louise Walenski was smiling like an idiot, almost laughing as she bumped into him. “Excuse me! Sir.”
    Jason Darkwood was halfway over the flange for the watertight door leading to the Reagan’s bridge when he noticed her eyes. “Is something wrong, Lieutenant? Do I have my shoes on backward or something?” She laughed, running the free hand that didn’t hold her clipboard back through her pretty hair. He wasn’t wearing shoes at all, of course, but rather issue combat boots as he always wore with his Class B uniform. “Lieutenant?”
    “Ohh, nothing, sir—I ahh—I was just really pleased that we caught onto that transponder signal in time to get them all out of the water. I think Lieutenant Mott did a great job with tracking. And Lieutenant Bowman, too, of course. Where would Communica
    tions have been without Navigation, after all.”
    “Words to ponder indeed, Lieutenant.” Darkwood continued on his way, through the companionway, through the next watertight doorway, and to the Con.
    Lieutenant Junior Grade Arturo Rodriguez sang out, “Captain’s on the bridge!”
    The Reagan’s bridge crew started to attention, or what was left of them, anyway; Darkwood called out the anticipated “Carry on,” then proceeded toward his command chair as the bridge personnel looked back to their stations.
    Not only was his warfare officer, Lieutenant Walenski, missing, but so were Lieutenants Junior Grade Kelly and Bowman. Darkwood sat down, ran his fingers over the console arms, and looked at Sebastian, his tall, leanly muscled First Officer leaning over the illuminated plotting board. “Mr. Sebastian?”
    “Aye, sir?” Sebastian answered.
    “Where are the female members of the bridge crew? I literally bumped into Lieutenant Walenski—back there,” and he gestured behind him.
    “You pose an interesting question, Captain” was all Sebastian responded.
    “Interesting question,” Darkwood nodded. “Do you have an interesting answer?”
    “No, sir.Not at all. The answer isn’t that terribly interesting at all.”
    Darkwood stood up, took the three steps down, and stood leaning against the First Officer’s chair. “Even if it isn’t interesting, Mr. Sebastian, share it with me anyway.”
    Lieutenant CommanderTJ. Sebastian’s eyes shifted quickly aft along the bridge and then to Darkwood’s face, Sebastian’s brown hands distending over the illuminated surface of the chart table as if it were one of the tactile sensitive video games with which television news broadcasters contended teenagers at Mid-Wake
    were obsessed. “Actually, Jason, surprise!”
    Darkwood started to speak when he heard laughter behind him, then Margaret Barrow’s voice. “Congratulations, Jason—Captain Jason Darkwood, Captain U.S.S. Ronald Wilson Reagan.” She held a radio-fax transcription in her left hand. Radio-fax messages were only possible when the ship was surfaced.
    Behind him, he heard the click of the microphone which Sebastian used when relaying orders from the bridge. “Attention all hands; now hear this. This is First Officer Sebastian speaking.” Captain? Darkwood thought He was Captain of the Reagan well enough, but his rank