Jessamy Beech Ch. 10: Plymouth

It was the first time any of them had had a clear look at O'Brian in daylight. He was a big man. His black uniform stretched taught over tattooed forearms, bulging biceps and shoulder muscles. O'Brian's nose had been badly broken and a jagged scar ran from the corner of his mouth up under his beret. Jessamy found it uncomfortable making eye contact with him for more than a few moments.

O'Brian somehow didn't look like a sailor to her. He looked more like ...

"Aren't you going to join us for breakfast?" Alison asked.

O'Brian smirked, "This is the Officers' Mess, Corporal. Officers only. The captain is only allowing the three of you to eat here because you're guests."

. . .

Breakfast in the naval base's Officers' Mess was a peculiar affair. There were three long tables in the wood panelled hall. One had perhaps a dozen smartly dressed but harried looking junior officers who ate in silence, casting the odd curious glance in the women's direction. But they said nothing.

Across the room another table held twice that number of more senior officers, looking less well groomed or even scruffy. Many were unshaven and red-eyed, looking as if they'd had late nights. A few whispered amongst themselves as they eyed Jessamy, Mpenzi and Alison up. The women sat at the middle, unoccupied table.

Weapons were prohibited in the Wardroom, so the women hadn't bothered collecting theirs from the armoury. But Jessamy wished she had at least a handgun as a deterrent, as they tucked into a small but tasty fried breakfast surrounded by a tense atmosphere of brooding menace.

"What the fuck is going on in this place?" Mpenzi whispered after one of the downtrodden looking staff had brought them a fresh pot of coffee, avoiding eye contact and not uttering a word.

. . .

O'Brian showed them the base's gym, vehicle maintenance sheds and recycling areas. Scavenging parties were sent out on a daily basis to see what could be salvaged and put to good use - parts for vehicles or weapons or even plant seeds.

Devonport's extensive playing fields had been ploughed up and planted with every vegetable Jessamy had ever heard of. She made a pledge to herself to get out and about on the scavenging parties if she remained for any amount of time, not doing backbreaking work toiling in the fields.

The dockyards had a shop where personnel could barter, using found items or offering services, a medical centre where wounds and injuries could be treated, a theatre where a show was put on once a month to boost morale, and even a barber and a tattooist.

Everywhere both navy and civilians worked busily at clearing rubble, demolishing damaged buildings and beginning the process of rebuilding - or at least making living conditions a little less harsh.

"You'll be assigned to whatever suits your skill set," O'Brian told them, "work hard and you'll be sheltered and well fed."

"Just like the army then," Mpenzi replied.

"Don't worry, we won't try to press gang you into joining the navy. Like I said, we have a few army personnel here, but I think as sergeant you're probably one of the highest ranking."

Mpenzi looked astounded, "What, nobody above sergeant? Now THAT sounds like a great idea to me."

O'Brian shrugged. Jessamy found it impossible not to notice that all over the base there seemed to be two distinct kinds of people. Timid men and women who quietly went about their business not even making eye contact as they passed, and loudly spoken individuals - mostly men - who greeted O'Brian with jokes and raucous laughter, treating him not as their superior but as an old friend who they'd shared some life changing experience with.

PART THREE: JACK AUBREY

Three days passed. Jessamy was allowed on scavenging missions into Plymouth's city centre, escorted by two of O'Brian's well-armed men. But after eleven years, pickings were slim and more often than not they returned empty handed.

Mpenzi helped out demolishing the huge redundant submarine pens that had become unsafe and in danger of collapse, securing sections of sheet metal on the roofs of the hangar like buildings to be lowered safely down to the ground.

Alison, understandably given her skills, was given the task of trying to fix some of the base's comms equipment in the HQ building.

Jessamy took the opportunity one day to conceal her bow outside the building, rather than suffer the withering looks of the woman in the armoury. While no-one was watching she tucked it behind some wheelie bins that, judging by the amount of rubbish blowing freely around, hadn't been used since before Thanatos.

. . .

The following morning dawned dull and overcast with a brisk wind blowing in off the sea. As they left the Wardroom after breakfast, they couldn't help but notice a tall figure standing on the stone steps directly outside the main entrance doors. He looked immaculate in standard navy working uniform complete with rank slides of gleaming gold braid.

"Ah good morning ladies," he stepped forward offering a hand to each of them in turn, "I'm Captain Aubrey. Jack Aubrey. I'm so pleased to finally meet you all."

After days of expecting to find some sort of ogre in charge, it came as a surprise for Jessamy to discover the captain was so ... normal. He was in his mid forties, average looking, bordering on handsome with nondescript mousy coloured hair and muddy blue-grey eyes.

"It's a pleasure to meet you sir," said Mpenzi, "thank you for taking us in."

"Not at all sergeant, not at all. I'm so sorry I've been indisposed for a few days. I've been on a ... supply hunt, up in Newton Abbot, Teignmouth, that sort of area," Aubrey's accent had the sort of superior sounding poshness about it that Jessamy had come to associate with high ranking military.

"We've been fine, thank you sir for the hospitality," Mpenzi was being very well behaved, Jessamy noticed.

"Has O'Brian been taking care of you? Showing you around?"

Alison nodded eagerly, "Sir, your c-communications set up is amazing. I'd love the opportunity to spend time g-getting it all up and running ..."

Aubrey smiled indulgently, "You'll have plenty of time Corporal. I suspect there is one area O'Brian hasn't given you all a tour of though."

"Where's that sir?" asked Mpenzi.

"Now that you've settled in I think it's time I showed you my ship. The Poseidon," Aubrey eyes gleamed with excitement, like a small boy wanting to show off a new toy, "I need to go aboard to check on a few things anyway, so if you all tag along I'll show you around."

Aubrey led them away, chatting animatedly with Mpenzi about conditions in the north and their journey.

"It's not normal for a high ranking officer to do this sort of thing you know," whispered Alison.

Jessamy started. It was the first full sentence Alison had spoken to her for days, "I think he's just a typical man wanting to impress the ladies, polish his ego by showing off the size of his ... equipment."

. . .

HMS Poseidon sat sleek and silent. Moored securely to the dockside she towered above them. A streamlined grey hull blending into a blocky superstructure. A single enormous gun dominated the bow area while the flat stern was given over to a hangar and helicopter landing pad.

Naval ratings and a few civilian technicians scurried up and down the two gangways, the military saluting Captain Aubrey while the others merely nodded respectful greetings.

"Have we heard back yet Jasper?" Aubrey shouted to a Warrant Officer standing on the dock.

"Wh ... uh, no sir. Thought we'd give them a few more hours," answered the man.

"They've had long enough. Muster your team at 0600 tomorrow."

"0600. Aye-aye sir."

Aubrey stood to one side as they reached the gangway and waved them aboard, "After you ladies."

. . .

"The Poseidon is the last of the Type 26 frigates, built for anti-submarine warfare missions and, um ... what not."

"What not?" asked Mpenzi. She squeezed back against the bulkhead as a couple of naval ratings hurried past.

"Yeah, you know," answered Captain Aubrey vaguely, "Poseidon is the only ship that was left in dock when the shit hit the fan, and we've, um ... assumed the rest of the fleet is either out of range or destroyed at sea by meteorite strikes. There's been absolutely no contact for almost ten years."

Jessamy peered into side cabins as they wandered past. Bunk beds stacked in threes, narrow lockers for uniforms and personal effects, fold down desks. The bare minimum amount of space needed, and all empty.

A few pieces of discarded clothing, an empty mug, a toothbrush, explicit pornography sellotaped to some of the painted bulkheads was the only evidence that the Poseidon had ever had anyone on board.

"She's a good little ship ..." Aubrey continued, "over 490 feet long, nearly 70 feet wide and runs on a Rolls Royce MT30 gas turbine powered by four, um ... great big diesel generators ... that we uh, currently don't actually have any diesel for. Our fuel dump took a direct hit years ago. We can go to and fro around the bay on emergency batteries but that's about it for now. When she's running she can get up to 26 knots top speed with a range of 7,000 nautical. Impressive eh?"

"Where are the crew?" Mpenzi asked, catching Jessamy's eye.

"The full complement is 150-ish usually, but uh ... as we're not actually going anywhere soon we just keep a skeleton crew on board to man the weapons and comms."

"Weapons?" Mpenzi asked, interrupting Alison before she could ask something geeky about the frigate's communications systems.

"Yeah. We've got surface to air missiles ... but no specialist with the training to fire the fu ... damn things. We've got a Mark 45 naval gun - that's the biggy on the front ..."

'Front?' thought Jessamy.

They'd reached a steep steel ladder leading up to the next deck.

"Ladies first," Aubrey gestured with a lopsided grin. Mpenzi and Alison began climbing but Jessamy hung back, watching the captain carefully. He carried himself like a navy officer but didn't always quite speak like one.

Aubrey continued to talk, "We have a pair of 30mm guns, pair of miniguns, four general purpose machine guns ... and we've got facility to carry a fully armed Wildcat helicopter in the hangar at the back ..."

'Back?' thought Jessamy as she ascended behind Aubrey.

"... that we don't have either because they were all onboard HMS Queen Elizabeth when we lost, uh ... lost contact with it. Her, I mean."

They reached the companionway leading through on to the ship's bridge.

"Exactly how long have you been in the navy, captain?" Jessamy blurted.

"Me? Oh, you know, uh ... years."

"What's the main gun's range?" Mpenzi asked inquisitively. The sergeant was gazing through one of the corridor's thick side windows. Looking inland towards Plymouth with a thoughtful expression.

"About 13 nautical. And with our targeting computer accurate up to about ten yards."

Alison whistled, then wandered off around the virtually deserted bridge to examine the frigate's sophisticated radar, sonar and communications apparatus, leaving Mpenzi still deep in thought.

"What do you think?" Aubrey had come to stand at Jessamy's shoulder so quietly that she hadn't realised he was there until he spoke.

What did you say to a captain who showed off his ship then waited like an excited puppy for your nod of approval? Men always turned everything into a pissing match to see who had the biggest this, the biggest that. And they liked nothing more than impressing the ladies with the size of their guns.

"It's ... nice," she said simply.

Aubrey looked deflated, more than a little put out, "Nice?" he blustered, "this ship is one of the most technologically advanced vessels anywhere in the world."

Jessamy smirked, "But you're not anywhere in the world, sir. You're here, stuck in Plymouth because your itty bitty ship hasn't got any fuel."

Her attitude had the desired effect on Aubrey. He frowned at her for a moment, then laughed, "You're right. A ship with no fuel may as well not be a ship at all. I like you Private Beech."

"Please, call me Jessamy," she gazed up into his eyes in a way that she hoped he'd find alluring. A look she'd copied from Merida that always seemed to get what she wanted.

"Jessamy," Aubrey repeated, as if trying out the word for size, "Jessamy. A beautiful name for a beautiful young lady."

This guy was seriously creepy. Jessamy bit her lip as she spotted Mpenzi over Aubrey's shoulder making an obscene gesture behind his back, "Um, thankyou."

"Would you do me the honour of joining me for dinner this evening Jessamy Beech?"

Jessamy blushed, "I don't really ..."

Aubrey gripped her slender shoulders in his big hands, "Please? I can see that there's a stunning young woman under that rather unflattering soldier's uniform. You're funny, clever and you show no respect for my authority ... which I find quite refreshing. That's why I'm inviting you to dinner."

Behind Aubrey, Mpenzi gave her a warning look. Alison was oblivious, excitedly removing a maintenance panel from one of the comms consoles to look inside.

"I don't have anything to wear apart from this 'rather unflattering soldier's uniform' though," Jessamy pinched the frayed MTP between thumb and forefinger.

"Leave it to me. Give my aide your measurements and shoe size. We cleared everything from the big stores in town after the first strikes for possible recycling. And I mean everything. If there isn't a dress that would suit you in amongst it all I'll eat my proverbial hat."

Jack Aubrey really was a prize wanker, Jessamy realised. Stupid, gullible, easily led and with an ego bigger than his stranded ship. But time alone with the ranking officer might prove useful to them, as long as he didn't get any ideas. But she'd been quite capable of looking after herself since Tobermory.

Jessamy nodded, "Alright. Dinner. What time?"

"Say ... seven? My quarters upstairs in the Wardroom. I'll send a driver. Now ... let's see about getting you all back ashore before your Corporal dismantles my bridge."

. . .

Back in their shared accommodation later, Mpenzi angrily punched the peeling wall, "I don't know who these fuckers are but they aren't any navy I'm familiar with. Aubrey said that that big gun can hit anything up to 13 miles away. That village we passed through ..."

"Yelverton?"

"Yeah. That was barely half that. Ugly shithead on top the barricade said something about fuel. And there'd been someone else there before us asking about it. It wasn't a meteorite strike hit that village. I'll bet my right tit that it was the Poseidon's big gun."

"Maybe. But why? Why would the navy do something like that? They're here to protect civilians," said Alison.

"If their CO started giving unreasonable orders like that he'd have a mutiny on his hands," Mpenzi continued.

"Aubrey doesn't talk like he's been in the navy for years either," added Jessamy, "not that I'm any expert."

"No, you're right," Mpenzi agreed grimly, "I want some answers. Jessamy. When you're with the captain later, keep his glass topped up - if you know what I mean. Loosen his tongue, get him talking."

Jessamy nodded, "What about you two?"

"We'll be going for a walk around the perimeter. See if we can find a way out of this place if everything goes south the way I'm expecting it to. They might be who they say they are but it always pays to have a Plan B."

"In that case," Jessamy fished around in her jacket pockets, "can you look after this for me?"

"A list of names? What's so important about this?" Mpenzi asked.

"Trust me. It's very important. I'll tell you one day, I promise."

Mpenzi tucked Bromden's list in her own jacket for safekeeping, "You better go get yourself glammed up Private Beech."

Jessamy nodded and went to get showered and looking presentable. As Jack Aubrey had promised, just a few minutes later a greasy haired rating knocked at the door carrying a selection of dresses still on their hangers with matching shoes for each.

"Would the lady like any help tryin' these on, know what I mean?" he asked, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue.

"No she wouldn't," Mpenzi scowled imperiously down at him and winked, "and if she did it'd be down to us, her two nymphomaniac lesbian girlfriends."

Across the room Alison blushed.

Mpenzi slammed the door before the man could reply or make any comment about the slim possibility of just watching.

. . .

At five minutes to seven or thereabouts - Jessamy guessed as none of them had any way to tell the time to any degree of accuracy - a dark blue Royal Navy Land Rover pulled up outside the accommodation block.

"Good luck," nodded Mpenzi, stepping back from the window. Alison watched but said nothing.

Jessamy had wanted to wear a loose fitting dark green dress from the selection available, with a long slit up the side that left her legs free for running and climbing. She guessed it would also provide camouflage if she had to make a quick getaway and hide amongst the stunted undergrowth. She also liked the colour.

But Mpenzi had insisted Jessamy wear a tight, figure hugging sequinned blue dress that matched her eyes and left her arms and her legs from mid thigh completely bare. She was bra-less too, so as not to spoil the 'lines of the dress' as Mpenzi explained. Though thankfully the imposing black woman hadn't forced her to wear one of those ridiculous thong things ...

"You need to put him off his guard, distract him," she'd said, "and if I'd seen you dressed like this on a night out back in Jo'burg it certainly would've distracted ME."

That hadn't been helpful. The chill wind blasting in from Plymouth Sound brought goosebumps out on Jessamy's exposed limbs and stiffened her nipples as, shivering, she wrapped her filthy MTP jacket around her naked shoulders and tottered out to the waiting vehicle.

That was the other thing Mpenzi had practically ordered her to wear. Ridiculously impractical blue stiletto heels that matched the dress. The last time she'd worn such footwear had been for her 'date' with Butcher Beaconsfield on Mull and she remembered how THAT evening had turned out.

The driver was the greasy little oik who'd dropped off the dresses. She caught him staring as she clambered into the passenger seat and tugged down the hem of the dress so as not to show too much thigh. Despite the cold her cheeks felt suddenly warm.

"A'right love?" winked the driver, "you the skipper's 'entertainment' for this evenin' are ya? He likes blondes. Young 'uns too like yerself, know what I mean? Nothin' personal but I would've gone for yer black friend. The Souf African?"

Jessamy gritted her teeth, wishing she had a weapon. Any weapon, "Just drive."

Jessamy could have walked the few hundred yards to the Officers' Mess building. If she'd been wearing normal shoes. With the stilettos over cobbles and chewed up tarmac, progress would have been so painfully slow that she would no doubt have taken the shoes off halfway and continued barefoot.

The driver drew up outside the impressive stone porch and yanked up the handbrake, "Have a nice evening yer ladyship. An' if you still got the energy in the morning I don't mind sloppy seconds. Know what I mean?"

"Fuck you!" Jessamy snarled and clambered out of the vehicle. Her exit would've been more impressive if she hadn't lost her balance the first step she took, almost twisting her ankle in the process. She felt humiliated ...

"Doubt you'll be able to walk at all come mornin'," called the driver, leaning his head out of the Land Rover's cab, "know what I mean?"

Jessamy placed a hand flat against the passenger side door and slammed it as hard as she could against his sneering face, then turned and pushed through the impressive leaded glass doors into the Officers' Mess.