Free Survivalist - 18 - The Struggle by Jerry Ahern Page B

They’re like the ones in your day, more or less.”
    “I’ll fake it,” Annie told her, muttering, “Your day” under her breath, going to the cabinet Margaret Barrow gestured toward. Annie Rubenstein realized, of course, that she was a living breathing walking and talking anachronism.
    “And first chance you get, in my office I’ve got some extra clothes—just in case there’s a bleeder and I zig when I should have zagged. Just take the rank insignia off the collar, okay?”
    “Okay.” She began to check the syringes.

Chapter Eleven
    Darkwood sat in his command chair. There had been no Island Class Submarine waiting for them and they were hiding now well off the coast of Iwo Jima in deep water, still at Battle Stations.
    In a ragged semicircle between his chair and the steps stood Sam Aldridge, Tom Stanhope, and Sebastian. “I’m betting Sebastian’s right, gentlemen. That means we’ve got a bunch of our GIs in shit up to their elbows back there on Iwo Jima. And aboard the Reagan we’ve got Doctor Rourke’s daughter, a German officer, and Major Tiemerovna, the two women certainly potential bargaining chips our garden variety Soviet enemies could use as a wedge with the Soviet forces on the surface. An alliance like that could mean the end for all of us. There’s one clear course of action. And that’s our only chance. Sebastian?”
    “Yes, Jason.”
    “You’ll take the Reagan and make best speed toward Mid-Wake. Once you’re out of range of the Island Classer our Marine Spetznas friends came from, attempt to contact the Wayne. Notify them of the situation and ask them to come to our aid. Mr. Stanhope—”
    “Sir!”
    “Lieutenant—you’ll be in charge of security aboard the Reagan and that means looking after our passengers. If anything happens, they go before the women and children. Got me?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Good. Sam. You and I are taking the majority of the Marine Security detail and heading for Iwo Jima. No sense attacking some damned Island Classer with bare hands and Bowie knives. We hit the side of the island where the lagoon is, on the assumption that some of our guys are still going to be operational. The plan’s loose, but the crux of the whole thing is that we win. You can fill in the blanks however you wish.”
    “Gee whiz, Jase.”
    “Yeah—I knew you’d love it.” And Darkwood looked at Sebastian. “I’ll expect you back here for us as quick as you can get our charges to Mid-Wake. And don’t forget about helping Mrs. Rubenstein to contact her father and her husband. There’s got to be some way of doing it. And knowing Doctor Rourke, he’ll be looking for her and for Major Tiemerovna.”
    “Yes, Captain.”
    “I’ll want you to get us within range of the island. I’m officially transfering to you temporary command of the Reagan as of—” And Darkwood looked at the Steinmetz. “As of 0952 hours, and Captain Aldridge and Lieutenant Stanhope witness that and I’ll make certain the log reflects that. God Bless us all.”
    “Amen to that,” Sam Aldridge grunted.

Chapter Twelve
    Her office was at once Spartan and luxurious, elegant in its austerity. The desk was unadorned, but was of real wood, something almost impossible to obtain within the underground city. The wristwatch she wore was of the most expensive brand. Her clothes, tailored, functional, also of the finest fabrics. He had known many women of the Underground City. This one dressed like the mistress of a commissar.
    “This is the original prototype of the plasma-powered particle beam gun. It has been successfully tested on armored vehicles, helicopters, and bipod mounted as a replacement for the conventional caseless machine gun in the current inventory.”
    She was beautiful. Nicolai Antonovitch was having a hard time concentrating on anything else but that fact. “How many and how fast, Comrade Doctor Alexsova?”
    “At present, Comrade Marshal, the weapons must be calibrated by hand and this