Thomas Blackthorne
“What do we do now?’
Those words hung in the air and Blackthorne found that he had no answer to give the woman. He suspected that he and his team would soon be reassigned or split up, depending on how the situation looked to command. She would probably be kept on the ship or relocated.
He was saved from vocalizing his thoughts aloud by the arrival of two men, one of them a heavily armed Marine, the other wearing the red cross of a medic on his shoulder.
“Need to do a full visual inspection Sergeant, sorry. No one stays on the ship without one. CO's (Commanding Officers) orders.”
Blackthorne didn’t bother arguing. He gave the woman another shoulder squeeze and then stood with, offering her a short smile. “I’ll be right back.”
He followed the two men to a temporary screen that had been rigged to hide the view. As he stepped behind it he saw a burly female soldier and a female medic approaching the woman for what he assumed would be the same conversation.
Behind the screen he was asked to strip naked. The medic quickly and expertly checked him over for signs of injury. All the while the Marine who had come with them stood with his firearm leveled at Blackthorne. He offered the Canadian a slight shoulder shrug.
“Sorry Sarge, had a couple turn on the boat while we were preparing to get clear, can’t be to careful.”
Blackthorne nodded. He was tall enough to see over the screen and he managed to catch the eye of the woman he had brought aboard as she head behind her own screen and offered her a wink.
The inspection finished quickly and the Marine lowered his weapon as Blackthorne began to redress. The Medic stepped out and returned a moment later with a set of Marine fatigues.
“Probably a bit more comfortable than your dive suit Sergeant.” He passed the uniform over to Blackthorne who nodded his thanks and stepped thankfully into the warm dry clothes. His legs were raw between the thighs from running in his dive suit and he winced slightly as the cloth rubbed over the sore patches.
“Thank you Sergeant. I’ll check the rest of your team and we can move you guys onward.” Said the Medic as he gestured that Blackthorne was free to go.
Holloway was next. The remainder of the team sat quietly under guard at the rear of the flight deck. Whoever was in charge of this operation wasn’t taking any chances. All of the new arrivals were spaced out, at least four feet between them, if someone turned they would be shot before they could infect someone else, hopefully.
Blackthorne, for the moment alone, took a moment to sit on the edge of the flight deck and look out into the harbor. The Bunker Hill was swiftly approaching the breakwater and the open sea. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a helicopter and he glanced up to see a small helicopter labouring across the sky. It was clearly overloaded and losing its battle with the strain on the engine. For one horrifying moment Blackthorne thought that the pilot was going to try and land on the Cruisers flight deck but then the helicopter gave a last despairing chop at the air and its engine died. He had an impression of scared faces staring at him from the window as the chopper fell and then it slammed into the water no more than twenty feet off the port side and in an instant sailors rushed to the side, harness and ropes in hand. Blackthorne, already seated on the port side could see four heads appear around the quickly sinking aircraft.
One of them vanished almost immediately with a scream as something grabbed him from beneath and Blackthorne shuddered at his own memory of the grasping hands below him in the inky water. He was about to offer to assist the sailors at their task but more rushed from the hanger and quickly had the three new arrivals dragged onto the flight deck.
The helicopter had sank from sight and Blackthorne was turning to study the new arrivals who were quickly being hustled into the medical inspection stations when he found himself face to face with a strange officer he did not know. The man looked exhausted and strained but he offered a genuine smile and shook Blackthornes hand.
“Welcome to the USS Bunker Hill Sergeant. I am Lieutenant Jack Georges, Deck O (Officer). I am sorry to tell you this but we have to put your team back in. Sergeant Holloway tells me he can pilot a chopper and I have two SeaHawks, orders to airlift out as many survivors as I can and no pilots. Holloway said he wouldn’t fly without his team so I have to put you guys back in.”
Blackthorne nodded. His side was still on fire from his clash with the steel hull but it was minor compared to the fate that awaited those still out there. “Yes sir. Permission to re-arm my lads from the ships armoury?”
“Granted. I need you lifting out of here in no more than 30 minutes. My boys are wheeling the chopper out now.”
Even as he spoke the huge hanger door began to grind open and the tail rotor of a SeaHawk helicopter appeared in the flood lights as sailors rolled it onto the flight pad. It was a long lean grey aircraft, identical to the Blackhawk helicopter made so famous by Hollywood, only a fe minor modifications made for firing torpedoes.
The survivors still seated around the flight deck were moved into the now empty hanger as the flight crews began to prep the helicopter. Blackthorne waved his team over and gave them the news. None of them complained and he thanked the gods for their stoic calm in the face of what was the greatest disaster he had ever heard of. It probably helped that none of them had close family or friends, the military was their family.
Georges led them down to the armoury where each of them was outfitted with their choice of weapons and the far more comfortable Marine battle dress, their dive suits tossed over the side to prevent any of the matter on them from contaminating the ship.
They were back, fully kitted out, in the hanger within 15 minutes. They gathered around Georges who had a simple roadmap of LA covered in all sorts of markings. It was clear that the ship had not been ready for any domestic operations. The few other maps that had been posted on the bulkheads (Walls) all showed various maps of the Gulf of Aden.
“For the moment we need you guys to start taking people off rooftops. It’ll be your discretion on ROEs (Rules of Engagement) as well as who you will and will not attempt to recover. If the situation looks like total shit, don’t risk it. We can’t afford to lose you or that chopper. Command has issued strict orders that we are not to get into any pissing matches with the Walkers, nor are you to attempt to enter structures. Understand?”
The soldiers gathered around him nodded and he gave them a tired smile. “I know it’s been a long day gents but we don’t have anyone else we can rely on. God speed.”
He offered them a salute and they turned and jogged towards the helicopter. It’s blades were already slowly rotating as Holloway, the only one not in the briefing, engaged the engine. The cabin light, a low vis red light, glowed eerily on him as they ran and he gave Blackthorne a thumbs up through the windshield.
Blackthorne was halfway across the hanger floor when he caught sight of the woman from the beach sitting amongst the refugees, staring at him. He turned towards her and jogged over, kneeling down in front of her.
“We’re going back in to look for survivors.” He wasn’t entirely sure why he was telling her, maybe it was because he had no one else who might care and suddenly, in the midst of all the chaos, he needed someone to come back to. “We’ll be back.” He took her hand in his and smiled. “Keep a light on for us okay?”
She managed to smile back and then he was gone, hurrying to the helicopter that was now throttling up to a heavy roar. Lieutenant Georges stood at the hanger door and Blackthorne could see a number of the refugees and ships crew join him.
The helicopter began to lift off even as the Bunker Hill cleared the breakwater. On the flight deck Lieutenant Georges waved his hand in farewell and spoke almost under his breath. “You brave bastards. Go with God.”
Blackthorne, one leg thrown over the side of the chopper so that it hung into space, waved back as the helicopter circled the ship once and then dipped its nose and roared back towards the city in the ever increasing darkness. For a moment it was silhouetted against the flames that seemed to be growing everywhere and then it passed into the smoke and was gone.
Those words hung in the air and Blackthorne found that he had no answer to give the woman. He suspected that he and his team would soon be reassigned or split up, depending on how the situation looked to command. She would probably be kept on the ship or relocated.
He was saved from vocalizing his thoughts aloud by the arrival of two men, one of them a heavily armed Marine, the other wearing the red cross of a medic on his shoulder.
“Need to do a full visual inspection Sergeant, sorry. No one stays on the ship without one. CO's (Commanding Officers) orders.”
Blackthorne didn’t bother arguing. He gave the woman another shoulder squeeze and then stood with, offering her a short smile. “I’ll be right back.”
He followed the two men to a temporary screen that had been rigged to hide the view. As he stepped behind it he saw a burly female soldier and a female medic approaching the woman for what he assumed would be the same conversation.
Behind the screen he was asked to strip naked. The medic quickly and expertly checked him over for signs of injury. All the while the Marine who had come with them stood with his firearm leveled at Blackthorne. He offered the Canadian a slight shoulder shrug.
“Sorry Sarge, had a couple turn on the boat while we were preparing to get clear, can’t be to careful.”
Blackthorne nodded. He was tall enough to see over the screen and he managed to catch the eye of the woman he had brought aboard as she head behind her own screen and offered her a wink.
The inspection finished quickly and the Marine lowered his weapon as Blackthorne began to redress. The Medic stepped out and returned a moment later with a set of Marine fatigues.
“Probably a bit more comfortable than your dive suit Sergeant.” He passed the uniform over to Blackthorne who nodded his thanks and stepped thankfully into the warm dry clothes. His legs were raw between the thighs from running in his dive suit and he winced slightly as the cloth rubbed over the sore patches.
“Thank you Sergeant. I’ll check the rest of your team and we can move you guys onward.” Said the Medic as he gestured that Blackthorne was free to go.
Holloway was next. The remainder of the team sat quietly under guard at the rear of the flight deck. Whoever was in charge of this operation wasn’t taking any chances. All of the new arrivals were spaced out, at least four feet between them, if someone turned they would be shot before they could infect someone else, hopefully.
Blackthorne, for the moment alone, took a moment to sit on the edge of the flight deck and look out into the harbor. The Bunker Hill was swiftly approaching the breakwater and the open sea. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a helicopter and he glanced up to see a small helicopter labouring across the sky. It was clearly overloaded and losing its battle with the strain on the engine. For one horrifying moment Blackthorne thought that the pilot was going to try and land on the Cruisers flight deck but then the helicopter gave a last despairing chop at the air and its engine died. He had an impression of scared faces staring at him from the window as the chopper fell and then it slammed into the water no more than twenty feet off the port side and in an instant sailors rushed to the side, harness and ropes in hand. Blackthorne, already seated on the port side could see four heads appear around the quickly sinking aircraft.
One of them vanished almost immediately with a scream as something grabbed him from beneath and Blackthorne shuddered at his own memory of the grasping hands below him in the inky water. He was about to offer to assist the sailors at their task but more rushed from the hanger and quickly had the three new arrivals dragged onto the flight deck.
The helicopter had sank from sight and Blackthorne was turning to study the new arrivals who were quickly being hustled into the medical inspection stations when he found himself face to face with a strange officer he did not know. The man looked exhausted and strained but he offered a genuine smile and shook Blackthornes hand.
“Welcome to the USS Bunker Hill Sergeant. I am Lieutenant Jack Georges, Deck O (Officer). I am sorry to tell you this but we have to put your team back in. Sergeant Holloway tells me he can pilot a chopper and I have two SeaHawks, orders to airlift out as many survivors as I can and no pilots. Holloway said he wouldn’t fly without his team so I have to put you guys back in.”
Blackthorne nodded. His side was still on fire from his clash with the steel hull but it was minor compared to the fate that awaited those still out there. “Yes sir. Permission to re-arm my lads from the ships armoury?”
“Granted. I need you lifting out of here in no more than 30 minutes. My boys are wheeling the chopper out now.”
Even as he spoke the huge hanger door began to grind open and the tail rotor of a SeaHawk helicopter appeared in the flood lights as sailors rolled it onto the flight pad. It was a long lean grey aircraft, identical to the Blackhawk helicopter made so famous by Hollywood, only a fe minor modifications made for firing torpedoes.
The survivors still seated around the flight deck were moved into the now empty hanger as the flight crews began to prep the helicopter. Blackthorne waved his team over and gave them the news. None of them complained and he thanked the gods for their stoic calm in the face of what was the greatest disaster he had ever heard of. It probably helped that none of them had close family or friends, the military was their family.
Georges led them down to the armoury where each of them was outfitted with their choice of weapons and the far more comfortable Marine battle dress, their dive suits tossed over the side to prevent any of the matter on them from contaminating the ship.
They were back, fully kitted out, in the hanger within 15 minutes. They gathered around Georges who had a simple roadmap of LA covered in all sorts of markings. It was clear that the ship had not been ready for any domestic operations. The few other maps that had been posted on the bulkheads (Walls) all showed various maps of the Gulf of Aden.
“For the moment we need you guys to start taking people off rooftops. It’ll be your discretion on ROEs (Rules of Engagement) as well as who you will and will not attempt to recover. If the situation looks like total shit, don’t risk it. We can’t afford to lose you or that chopper. Command has issued strict orders that we are not to get into any pissing matches with the Walkers, nor are you to attempt to enter structures. Understand?”
The soldiers gathered around him nodded and he gave them a tired smile. “I know it’s been a long day gents but we don’t have anyone else we can rely on. God speed.”
He offered them a salute and they turned and jogged towards the helicopter. It’s blades were already slowly rotating as Holloway, the only one not in the briefing, engaged the engine. The cabin light, a low vis red light, glowed eerily on him as they ran and he gave Blackthorne a thumbs up through the windshield.
Blackthorne was halfway across the hanger floor when he caught sight of the woman from the beach sitting amongst the refugees, staring at him. He turned towards her and jogged over, kneeling down in front of her.
“We’re going back in to look for survivors.” He wasn’t entirely sure why he was telling her, maybe it was because he had no one else who might care and suddenly, in the midst of all the chaos, he needed someone to come back to. “We’ll be back.” He took her hand in his and smiled. “Keep a light on for us okay?”
She managed to smile back and then he was gone, hurrying to the helicopter that was now throttling up to a heavy roar. Lieutenant Georges stood at the hanger door and Blackthorne could see a number of the refugees and ships crew join him.
The helicopter began to lift off even as the Bunker Hill cleared the breakwater. On the flight deck Lieutenant Georges waved his hand in farewell and spoke almost under his breath. “You brave bastards. Go with God.”
Blackthorne, one leg thrown over the side of the chopper so that it hung into space, waved back as the helicopter circled the ship once and then dipped its nose and roared back towards the city in the ever increasing darkness. For a moment it was silhouetted against the flames that seemed to be growing everywhere and then it passed into the smoke and was gone.