Around them the noise of rescue and salvage created a din that covered their conversation. Davidson didn’t exactly think of Moose as a friend. He didn’t exactly have any friends. But Moose stood six-four in his bare feet and could probably kill an ox with his right hook. He made a good ally for someone like Slim Jim, who’d always relied on ratbastard cunning to make up for his less-than-intimidating physique. If he was going to work an angle on this, he didn’t need to have the big ape messing things up for him by mouthing off to the new guys.

“You think about it, Moose,” he said in a conspiratorial tone. “You ever meet an officer didn’t think the sun shone out of his ass? It’s because in their world, it does. And there’s nothing you or I can do about it. I don’t know how that bitch got to be captain of a ship like this, but you can bet she thinks she deserves it.”

“But that just can’t be,” Moose argued plaintively.

“It doesn’t matter!” Davidson said, cutting him off sharply. “What should be and what is almost never turn out the same. I should be lying back in a big feather bed at the Waldorf getting my dick sucked by Rita Hayworth. But I’m stuck here covered in blood and shit wondering what the hell happened to the laws of fucking nature this morning. You take my advice, Moose, one of these bastards says boo to you, you just tell ’em yes sir no sir three bags full sir. Even if it’s some broad looks like she should be cleaning the toilets in a fucking speakeasy.”

Moose was silenced by the vehemence of his best friend’s delivery. And everything Slim Jim Davidson had just said ran 100 percent contrary to what his daddy, Moose Sr., had raised him to believe. But of course, Moose Sr. wasn’t here, up to his ass in dead meat and craziness. And Slim Jim had looked after him ever since they’d fetched up in the same quarters. He reluctantly agreed to heed the advice.

“That’s all right then.” Davidson nodded. “Now I gotta take this shit topside and get rid of it. I’ll see you soon.”

And with that he hauled the big, oozing bag away, all the time thinking of where he might stash the treasure he had hidden within it.

Captain Anderson ran her fingers along the join between the two ships. The nanotube sheath armor of the Leyte Gulf met the rivets and iron plating of the Astoria perfectly. She supposed they had bonded at the molecular level.

“How long, Chief?” she asked.