Ghost Fleet : A Novel of the Next World War (9780544145979) Read Free Page A

Russian forces in Siberia.
    â€œGame was a blowout, but the no-hitter by Parsons fell apart at the bottom of the eighth,” said Mike. “Too bad for the A’s.”
    Torres, busted, took off the glasses and glared at Mike, whose eyes continued to pan across the steely water.
    The young sailor knew not to say anything more. Shouting at a contractor was a quick path to another write-up. And more important, there was something about the old man that made it clear that, even though he was retired, he would like nothing more than to toss Torres overboard, and he’d do it without spilling a drop of coffee.
    â€œSeaman, you’re on duty. I may be a civilian now and out of your chain of command,” said Mike, “but you work for the Navy. Do not disrespect the Navy by disappearing into those damn glasses.”
    â€œYes, sir,” said Torres.
    â€œIt’s ‘Chief,’” said Mike. “‘Sir’ is for officers. I actually work for a living.”
    He smiled at the old military joke, winking to let Torres know the situation was over as far as he was concerned. That was it, right there. The sly charm that had gotten him so far and simultaneously held him back. If Torres hadn’t been aboard, the chief could have puttered across the bay at a leisurely seven knots and pulled up, if he had the tide right, at the St. Francis Yacht Club. Grab a seat at the bar and swap old sea stories. After a while, one of the divorcées who hung out there would send over a drink, maybe say something about how much he looked like that old Hollywood actor, the one with all the adopted kids from around the world. Mike would then crack the old line that he had kids around the world too, he just didn’t know them, and the play would be on.
    The rising sun began to reveal the outlines of the warships moored around them. The calls of a flight of gulls overhead made the silent, rusting vessels seem that much more lifeless.
    â€œUsed to be a bunch of scrap stuck in the Ghost Fleet,” 9 said Mike, giving a running commentary as they passed between an old fleet tanker from the 1980s and an Aegis cruiser 10 retired after the first debt crisis. “But a lot of ships here were put down before their time. Retired all the same, though.”

    â€œI don’t get why we’re even here, Chief. These old ships, they’re done. They don’t need us,” said Torres. “And we don’t need them.”
    â€œThat’s where you’re wrong,” said Mike. “It may seem like putting lipstick on old whores in a retirement home, but you’re looking at the Navy’s insurance policy, small as it may now be. You know, they kept something like five hundred ships 11 in the Ghost Fleet back during the Cold War, just in case.”

    â€œFloater, port side,” said Torres.
    â€œThanks,” said Mike, steering the launch around a faded blue plastic barrel bobbing in the water.
    â€œAnd here’s our newest arrival, the
Zumwalt
,” Mike announced, pointing out the next ship anchored in line. “It didn’t fit in with the fleet when they wasted champagne on that ugly bow, and it doesn’t belong here now. Got no history, no credibility. They should have turned it into a reef, but all that fake composite crap would just kill all the fish.”
    â€œWhat’s the deal with that bow?” said Torres. “It’s going the wrong direction.”
    â€œ
Reverse tumblehome
is the technical term,” said Mike. “See how the chine of the hull angles toward the center of the ship, like a box-cutter blade? That’s what happens when you go trying to grab the future while still being stuck two steps behind the present. DD(X) is what they 12 called them at the start, as if the
X
made it special. Navy was going to build 13 a new fleet of twenty-first-century stealthy battleships with electric guns and all that shit. Plan was to build thirty-two