Marching Out

Story Code: M/F, M+/F, Incest, Bro/Sis, Action story

It had been a week since I lost my virginity to George Campbell. He was a stranger that I met on the train to Glasgow. I'd been heading north to find my mother's sister who I hadn't seen since I was a little girl and my mother left home. It was going to take a while to find my mother as I didn't even know her sisters address, just the rough part of Glasgow that she lived in and that twenty-five years ago, she lived in a house with a distinctive roof over her front bay window.

My journey had been interrupted in Birmingham by signals failure to the north and George and I took the last bed available in the Railway Hotel. George was a few years younger than me and in his Armani suit, he looked like a City Banker but I'd been around soldiers enough over the past ten years that I spotted him for military or former military at least but he was too young to have served the minimum nine year term so I'd pegged him as some kind of 'Undercover operative'.

I hadn't really formulated much of a plan for after I found my mother but as I'd become estranged from my father, my mother and my aunty were all the family I had left and if I ever found her I'd probably find accommodation close to her and try to build a relationship with her.

I'd only known George for a week and I had discovered quite by chance that he was actually my brother. We'd gone to his auntie's house; we'd entered via the back door so I hadn't spotted the distinctive roof that I was planning to look for. When I'd last seen my aunty she had been a fiery redhead that was almost six feet tall, now she had grey hair, stooped and closer to five feet tall so all the things that I had planned to look for while seeking out my aunty were missing. My mother had changed much like her sister, she had lost a lot of weight from my mental image of her and her face had wrinkled so I had no visual clues at all.

For that six days I'd been living under my mother's roof without actually revealing that we were related, I'd fallen in love with George...head over heels...it wasn't uncommon for a girl to fall for the man that takes her virginity and that even many years later, if they were estranged and met up again, there would always be that spark!

"What are you thinking darling?"

"Sorry...I was just wondering what kind of job I should look for, my pension from the army won't put a roof over my head."

George had been out of the room talking on his phone, he'd only been out of bed for ten minutes but that was the longest we'd been separated since we arrived in Glasgow.

"How do you fancy a Caribbean honeymoon?"

"What...is that some kind of clumsy proposal?"

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George's face split in a massive grin, "I wasn't proposing you crazy Muppet, just a honeymoon...not the whole wedding thing!"

"Then that would just be a holiday with lots of sex rather than a honeymoon."

"Well, it could be that but people of our age don't usually take Caribbean cruises whereas honeymooners do!"

"Don't think I fancy a cruise, I don't really like boats, I get seasick on the boating lake in the park."

"Well, It's more of an essential holiday than something you would like to do or want to do!"

George walked over to where my suitcase was standing, he opened the envelope that I'd been given as I marched out of my final camp, he shuffled through the papers, "You remember reading this page?"

"Well, I scanned through it, didn't read it properly, it's just about the army being able to call me back into service at times of national need."

"Well Second lieutenant Porter...consider yourself 'Called back' and we're going to fly out to the Caribbean at the end of the week."

"I'm a sergeant...was a sergeant and I don't think that you have the power to call me back into the army."

"Well, that's the funny thing, I didn't actually call you back, it was Field Marshal Appleton that actually signed the order calling you back but I have to admit that it was me that requested you."

"Anyway, I can't go to the Caribbean, I didn't renew my passport, once I knew that I was definitely leaving the army I didn't bother and they need to still have over six months on them to be able to travel transcontinental."

"We'll get full supporting paperwork, a brand new wedding certificate, new passport but in your old name for the sake of reality."

"So why do we have to go on a Caribbean cruise?"

"We've had chatter, it's been going on for months, just that something big was going to happen and the latest messages have been that a cruise ship in the Caribbean was going to be the target. American Seals are looking after the American Cruise ships in the Caribbean; German 'Kommando Spezialkräfte' are on the German cruise ships and the Italian 'Marina Militare' are looking after Italian ships. There are five British cruise ships in the Caribbean at the moment, we only have four women available in our unit at the right now, I would normally have been teamed up with Kelly but I asked if I could team up with you."

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"I'm not trained for special forces duties!"

"You taught unarmed combat for seven years, you actually taught two of my team and you taught them very well, you are a prizewinning marksman and probably ten times fitter than anyone I know in special operations. We're not there to fight, we're on intelligence gathering and if anything happens we have 'Boots on' in five islands of the Caribbean and the ship will be wrapped up tighter than a drum in hours. At the moment there are thirty ships working the Caribbean so if anything does happen it's a one in thirty chance that we'll be on the right ship."

"Wrong ship."

George grinned again, "Right ship for me, wrong ship for the bad guys."

"What was that crap about Second lieutenant Porter?"

"Well, my unit doesn't have any enlisted women in it, all the woman are Rupert's and it is quite normal for a sergeant being called back into service to be given a small promotion as a sweetener."

"Will I get anything in writing?"

"We do put things in writing but you won't get to see it, it'll be put in your permanent file and that will be moved to Hereford."

"Hereford, so you are SAS then!"

"As of ten minutes ago...so are you."

We spent most of the rest of that day in bed together, I had a lot of making up to do, I'd missed out on so many years that I could have been having sex and just didn't...convincing myself that I didn't need it...and now that I'd tried it, I didn't want to miss a single second that I could be fucking.

At six-thirty the next morning we flew British Airways flight 8721 from Glasgow Airport to London City Airport on the banks of the Thames. We took a taxi to The Corinthia Hotel on Northumberland Avenue, we slipped past the reception desk and into the basement, there was a storage cupboard that hid a doorway into a long passage that ran from the hotel to the Old War Office. I was handed a new passport and new identity papers, my occupation was listed as a therapeutic masseur, my pay would be placed in the same bank account that all the rest of my pay had been deposited in, most of which was still in my account, I hadn't spent very much in the previous ten years so I had a very healthy bank balance, not that it was earning me very much interest but it would go a long way towards buying me a house when I was ready to settle down.

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We got a pair of tickets for a flight to The Azores, the ship that George had been assigned to had already set sail from Tilbury's Cruise Terminal just twenty-seven miles to the east of the room we were standing in and it would call into The Azores in two days time for a six hour visit.

The stuffed shirt that was in charge of the briefing session pulled up a picture of a ship on the plasma screen, "It looks like an old ocean liner from the nineteen twenties." I blurted out. My discomfort with the idea of travelling on a ship across the Atlantic Ocean was starting to play on my mind.

"You're right, it does have a little of that look about it, it was built in Russia in nineteen sixty-six at the height of the Cold War, it was built to carry seven hundred passengers in comfort..."

"Looks bigger in that picture sir." I said.

"You don't have to 'Sir' me Victoria...actually...marks of rank and the likes can be very dangerous in our game. The ship looks larger because it is, it was built as a passenger liner but it could carry five T-thirty-four tanks in its belly as well as two anti aircraft missile batteries and all their supporting equipment, not to mention a mobile radar station."

"Was it built as an undercover war ship...a 'Q' ship?"

"No, but all Russian civilian ships had to be able to be converted quickly into war ships, they made no secret of that. It's called The Marco Polo now but was built as the Alexander Pushkin, it is unusual for anyone to join a ship two days into its cruise so we've made up a cover story, Young George here is the Godson of Cruise and Maritime Voyages' CEO and as the ship's most expensive suite was still vacant at the time of departure and you and George had just got married, the trip was his wedding present to the two of you."

So we had our cover story, we even had a hand full of confetti stuffed into our bags so that it would fall out whenever we looked for anything. Our flight out of Heathrow Airport was on a De-Havilland Dash-eight one hundred, a thirty eight seat aircraft routed to Lisbon in Portugal and from there we'd transfer to another aircraft to fly to Ponta Delgada Airport in the Azores.

Shortly after takeoff the two cabin staff were busy taking newspapers and coffee around the aircraft and George dragged me into the toilet just behind the cockpit and he put his cock in the pit of my stomach. We joined the mile high club, not a long drawn out fuck, it would only take the crew ten minutes to serve the coffee to the other passengers so we had to be quick.

I thought that the 'Dash-eight' was a small aircraft but the plane that took us to Ponta Delgada was smaller than some cars. It only had eight passenger seats and there was no in-flight service on that flight.

We saw the Marco Polo in the bay just outside Ponta Delgada city as we came in for our landing and took a taxi to the port. It wasn't a walk in the park though, we didn't have the right card to get into the cruise terminal so George had to ring the ship and get someone out to the main gate to get us in.

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Apparently when new passengers turn up on a ship, they do all of the embarkation paperwork in the terminal on shore, a card is produced with their details on it, and photographs are taken to accompany the card so that security can check that we have the right to board the ship. We did all of that at the ships reception desk giving George plenty of opportunities to spill confetti over the carpet in front of the desk and at least twenty of the pensioners that were milling around the floating geriatrics home saw and heard that we were newly-weds on our honeymoon.

We had lunch on the ship in the Waldorf Restaurant and sat at a table for eight so that we could further spread our cover story. The ship had eight hundred and sixty passengers travelling to the Caribbean and we had five days at sea between Ponta Delgada and Antigua, our first Caribbean port. We made a point of talking to almost every one of those eight hundred and eighty passengers during that five days. The average age of the passengers was seventy-three years old and that included me at twenty-eight and George at twenty-five.

We spent our days getting to know the ship and our fellow passengers, we spent the evenings, while the other passengers were at the show or dinner, researching the ships blueprints, setting ourselves scenarios, the whole, 'If I were a terrorist, how would I attack the ship!' scenarios.

The passengers were the soft target of course but George had another idea, he pointed out that the ship had been built by the Russians to work in the High Arctic Region, the ship was an icebreaker, it had a specially strengthened bow.

"If a terrorist group could capture this cruise ship, they would have over eight hundred valuable passengers to use for propaganda and four hundred lower valued crew but they could make more millage out of ramming one of the big Italian or American cruise ships, they could terrorise between six thousand families and eight thousand if they could ram a larger ship at speed. There is even an American aircraft carrier in this region at the moment; would the American's sink a ship full of British pensioners if this ship was used to attack them?"

After our terrorist role playing evenings we put the large and very comfortable bed in our cabin to good use as George taught me all he knew about sex and then we started to invent new stuff of our own. I got used to walking around in front of George in the nude and even put on a show for him one time when he asked me if I could perform a striptease. I undressed to music and once I was naked I masturbated myself in an arm chair opposite the bed and after I climaxed George asked if I'd like to finish things off with a blow job. I got to practice a very new skill and sucked his cock for him but I had to disappoint him and wouldn't take him to completion in my mouth as I'd discovered that I disliked the taste of his spunk immensely.

We used a satellite phone to report to Hereford that none of the passengers or crew on the ship looked like they could be suspects and George was angling for permission to leave the Marco Polo at Antigua so that he could do something more useful. George was told that the chatter had increased and that Grenada was being mentioned more often in communications now.

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Marco Polo was going to sail to Grenada in a few days time so he was told to keep his powder dry until then at least. Grenada had been taken over for a short time by a Marxist Communist coup and thirty American medical students had been kidnapped and used for propaganda and human shields. Eventually, the American Government took military action to free their citizens and now, it looked like a few of the Marxists had escaped the mopping up process and they had festered on the island until now and now, they wanted to make a point to the whole world.

"The terrorists on Grenada are pissed off at the British for allowing the American's to invade the island in nineteen eighty-three, many members of their families were killed in the American action and many more were imprisoned in the American's terrorists prison on Cuba. We're likely to be up against the children of the original communists or even their grandchildren!"

In Grenada, while most of the passengers were visiting the Nutmeg plantations, the chocolate factories, the water falls or a typical Grenadian village, George and I were on the side of the sundeck watching the comings and goings on the dock. We'd done the same at three other Caribbean ports so far, a bag with two hidden cameras was hung from the rail, positioned carefully to give us a view of the whole dock area that was fed down to two iPads, one for George to watch and the other for me. The whole seven hours that we were destined to be in port was being stored on a hard drive so that we could review it later if we needed to.

The process was the same at all three ports, the first thing the crew did was to hook up a fresh water pipe to fill our water tanks. The second thing on each port was a sewage tanker, a lorry mounted tank to drain our effluent tanks down. The third step was large skip lorryies to collect a mountain of black plastic sacks full of rubbish. The rubbish was thrown from the ship's loading bay by crew members straight into the skips.

The forth step was replenishment of stores, taking on fresh fruit and vegetables, perhaps alcohol as well if the island was a cheap supplier of a particular beverage.

George was watching the loading bay area at the front of the ship.

"That's unusual Vicky...can you see a fork lift truck on your screen?"

"No, I can see the delivery lorry though, looks like a hand-balling job at this port."

George flicked through a sheaf of briefing notes, last time this ship was here there was an incident; the Caterpillar Tele-handler dropped a box of bananas into the sea. I can't see a Tele-handler at my end of the dock."

"There isn't one at the back of the ship either, just eleven dock workers carrying boxes from the lorry to the ship."

George took out his mobile phone and dialled the number for the ships bridge. He spoke to the captain, asked if the ship had ever been hand loaded at Grenada before.

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"Right, you keep an eye on both screens, I'm going to get closer to the loading bay."

"Hold on George, look at this, looks like a classic distraction."

We both watched as the security guard was distracted by the driver of the lorry lighting a cigarette at the side of the ship. The security guard rushed over to try to stop him lighting his cigarette so he wasn't watching the eleven men loading the ship.

"And then there were four. I only see four men loading the ship now so seven are probably onboard the ship."

I was detailed to go and talk to the captain on the bridge. We had developed a plan for an attack happening on a dock, large numbers of the passengers would be on trips and each trip had a member of the crew escorting them with mobile phone contact with the ship, we would arrange for the trips to be extended, keeping as many passengers away from the ship as possible. The rest of the passengers would be gathered into the main dining room where there were only four doors that needed to be protected and all four of those doors could be covered by fireproof doors to keep the passengers out of sight of potential trouble.

I had a fight on my hands to get to the bridge but once the captain realised who I was, he relaxed his normal security protocols and allowed me on to the bridge. He got the excursions manager to ring around all of the escorts to keep the coaches away from the ship until further notice and while that was being done the heads of departments were being called to the bridge for me to brief them. I was playing things down as much as I could.

"Treat this as an exercise ladies and gentlemen, I'm hoping that we've got it wrong and there is no danger to the ship or passengers but just in case, please have your staff walk through the ship and get all passengers that are still on board into the Waldorf Restaurant. Please impress on your staff not to challenge anyone looking suspicious. Please use the telephone system and not your walky-talky radios to pass information back to the bridge."

It was like an explosion as men and women rushed away from the bridge to their own areas of the ship. They had well practiced routines to deal with emergencies but they usually used their radios to communicate around the ship.

There were cameras all over the ship and we flicked through them, we saw housekeeping staff working their way through the cabin areas, opening cabin doors and checking that there were no passengers in their cabins. We saw what passengers there were around the ship being sent from one crew member to the next at every corner, every stairway and every room had members of crew making sure that any routes to the main restaurant were still safe.

On the lower level we spotted a body on the deck, one of the crew was laying face down on the floor and two men dressed from head to toe were dragging the crewman towards the open loading bay doors. They suddenly dropped the body and ran towards the cold storeroom. George appeared in shot and checked the pulse point on the man's neck. Mr Modi, the head of Security flicked to another angle, from the loading bay doors into the hold area, we could see George from another angle and that there was no one in the passageway ahead of him.