Seawolf Mask of Command (34 page)

“I’m…” she coughed, clearly having a hard time catching her breath, “I’m okay,” she croaked before going into another coughing fit.

Reed looked at COB. “I think she’ll be okay. Once I’ve finished my assessment, I’ll let you know.”

Relieved that she was at least conscious and breathing on her own, COB questioned Darby briefly before heading back to the galley where he found the XO. Once the two of them finished inspecting the damage, they went up to the control room where Brodie was standing on the periscope platform.

Everyone on board was still wearing EBA or OBAs, their sleeves rolled down, and coveralls buttoned up to the collar. Everyone that is, except for Brodie, who was standing without either an EBA or OBA, his sleeves still rolled up, and looking as focused as COB had ever seen him.

“What’s the damage?” Brodie asked as they stepped onto the platform with him.

“The fire was contained in the galley,” Graves explained. “Other than some seared paint and blackened overhead pipes, we’re okay.” He then added, “We got off lucky, Boss.”

Brodie exhaled in relief and then looked at COB. “Casualties?”

“Darby was in the galley when the fire started,” COB answered, watching Brodie carefully. Brodie, COB knew from firsthand experience, had a frightening temper.

“Was he the one who discharged the Halon canisters?” Brodie asked.

“No, sir,” COB replied doing his best to hide his own anger. “He’s one of the new men, and he panicked and ran.”

“Okay, give me the rest of it,” Brodie said. He appeared to steel himself for bad news as his left hand gripped a handle on one of the two periscopes.

COB lowered his voice. “It was Lieutenant Whitaker, Skipper,” COB explained. “She must have been studying in the wardroom and entered the galley from there. She pulled the Halon.” COB had seen Brodie in just about every possible situation, including combat. He’d always been absolutely unflappable in a crisis.

Until now.

COB now saw his long-time friend grimace slightly.

“How bad?” he asked, his face showing a hint of anguish.

“She ate a lot of Halon, Skipper. Plus to reach the Halon suppression trigger, she had to go into the fire.”

“How bad?” Brodie asked again, a dangerous edge now evident in his tone. COB noticed the white-knuckle fury as Brodie gripped the periscope handle so hard COB thought it might snap off.

“She has some first and second degree burns, plus Doc is giving her some oxygen to help her breathe,” COB explained.

Brodie’s head lowered. He looked to be trying to burn a hole in the deck beneath them with his eyes.

“Doc Reed says she should be okay, Skipper. There were no third degree burns, and he said something about starting a steroid drip, or some crap like that,” COB explained, not accustomed to seeing Brodie ever show emotion during an emergency.

“You okay, Captain?” Graves whispered softly in concern.

Brodie let out a lungful of air and looked up. Whatever emotions he’d been feeling were once more hidden behind the stoic mask of command. “All right, I’ll stay at periscope depth until we have the full DC report, and we know for certain we aren’t beat up too bad. I want a complete check of the electrical wiring and other piping running through the space. We can’t get back underway until we know for certain what damage there is,” Brodie ordered and although he looked calm, COB could see he was still gripping the periscope handle as if intent on crushing it.

“How did it start?” he asked.

COB didn’t want to tell him but wasn’t about to lie either. “Darby threw a grease-stained apron onto a hot burner and then panicked,” he explained.

Brodie nodded in understanding. “All right, I’ll deal with him later. You two see to the repairs.”

“Maybe you should let me handle Darby, Skipper,” COB offered.

Brodie shook his head, his jaw muscles twitching slightly. “Not this time, Spike,” he told his old friend. “She’s already taken one for the team. Not again. Darby’s all mine.”

COB nodded in reply and stepped back, thankful Darby was not within eyesight of Brodie at the moment, thinking the captain mad enough to kill the fool.

Sickbay, USS Seawolf

K
risten was feeling light headed. Doc Reed had given her a shot of something for the pain, and since she seldom used medication, she was struggling to make sense of what was happening around her. She was back in the same bunk she’d spent several days in following the overboard experience. Above her, an IV was hanging, and she had oxygen flowing through a tube beneath her nose.

The pain medication had hit her so hard, she was only vaguely aware of COB, the XO, Chiefs O’Rourke and Miller, plus a few men from her division coming in to visit her. She was struggling to clear her head when she heard Reed speaking to someone and recognized the captain’s voice. But they were speaking too softly for her to make out what they were saying. She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to clear it.

Kristen opened her eyes to see the captain stepping up alongside her bunk. Reed was with him and explaining the extent of her injuries. She’d received minor burns to her arms, neck, and side of her face.

“More like a bad sunburn, sir,” Reed assured the captain. “Except on her left arm where she has some second degree burns.”

“Captain?” she asked feebly. She had a hard time concentrating. “I’m all right.”

“What about the smoke inhalation?” Brodie asked Reed, ignoring her for the moment.

Kristen shook her head again, trying to get rid of the cobwebs. But the world around her was dreamlike. Nothing was real, everything was out of focus, and the voices were strangely different.

“I’m not sure what really got her worse, the smoke or the concentrated Halon,” Reed admitted. “I think she sucked in a lung full of the crap.” Reed then glanced down at her. “I gave her a shot of Demerol for the pain, so she should be able to rest well enough.”

Brodie patted Reed’s shoulder. “Good job, Doc.” He then turned his attention to her. “How’re you feeling, Lieutenant?”

“Well done,” she admitted. She was having a hard time focusing on him. He looked bigger than she remembered. The sleeves of his overalls were rolled up, and she noticed his bare arms. Feebly, she reached for his left arm, wanting to see his tattoo again.

“I bet,” Brodie replied as she shook her head again to clear it. He gently put her arm back at her side.

“I’m okay, sir, really,” she tried to assure him, afraid he would medevac her off the boat, but her tongue didn’t work right and her words were slurred. He studied her for several seconds but didn’t respond. “Sir?”

Brodie exhaled deeply, betraying no hint of what he was thinking behind the smoldering grey eyes. “I should’ve had your cabin prepared here in sickbay,” he told her as he finally spoke. “It certainly would’ve been more convenient.”

Kristen smiled slightly and responded to his attempt at humor with a bit of her own, “You aren’t allowed to tease me,” she said. The Demerol had removed her usual inhibitions entirely, and once more, her hand reached for his left bicep, determined to see the tattoo again. “Visitors to grievously wounded patients are supposed to be kind, sympathetic, and supportive.”

Brodie gave her a soft, warm smile and she felt her skin tingle.

“And is that sarcasm I hear in your voice, Lieutenant?”

“Who me?” she asked, her head spinning. “Never.”

There was a long, expectant pause, and Kristen felt a bit uncomfortable with the way he was looking at her, as if studying her and trying to decide what to do with her. “You aren’t going to put me off, are you?” she asked, nervously. Despite the fog she was laboring under, she was determined to let him know she was okay.

“I thought you said you’re grievously wounded?” he asked gently.

“I lied.”

“You’re not supposed to lie to your captain.”

Kristen searched his face, wishing she could clear her head so she might know what he was thinking. He was still studying her, but his eyes seemed softer than she remembered. “Captain, please…” she pleaded, hoping not to be sent ashore.

“You look tired, Lieutenant. Try to get some sleep.”

“I think Doc over served me a bit on the painkillers, but otherwise I’m fine.” Kristen raised both of her forearms, turning them slightly to show him. She could see burn ointment glistening off her reddened flesh. But she was too doped up to notice the blisters on her left forearm. “See! Doc says it’s nothing?” She then lowered her arms and added, “Please don’t put me ashore.”

“Just rest, Lieutenant,” Brodie replied, again avoiding her plea.

“Is the boat okay?” she asked. “What about Darby?”

“You just worry about feeling better, Lieutenant,” he directed her. “Let the rest of us take care of the boat for a while.”

Kristen nodded, wishing she had a mirror so she might know what he was seeing. She was suddenly a bit self-conscious about how she might appear. “What about Darby?” she mumbled, wishing her lips and tongue would cooperate; she could barely form words.

“Doc says Seaman Darby is fine.” Brodie’s voice turned a bit hard, and she recognized the dangerous edge in it. “You just rest, now.”

“What will happen to him?” Kristen asked, recalling how scared Darby had looked standing in the Wolf’s Den as the fire in the galley grew. Brodie didn’t reply, but even in her drugged state she could imagine things not going well for the frightened seaman. “He was scared, Captain,” she offered in Darby’s defense.

“I would imagine he was,” Brodie allowed, eyeing her carefully. “Just as I’m certain you were when you entered the galley and saw the fire. Except whereas Darby ran…” he paused and struggled with his words for a moment, taking another deep, steadying breath. “You ran into the flames and pulled the Halon activation lever, saving the boat from anything more than superficial damage in the galley.”

Kristen was a bit uncomfortable hearing him describe it. He made it sound heroic, yet all she remembered was being terrified. “I was scared out of my wits,” she admitted. “It was all I could think to do.”

There was a long period of silence between them as he continued to study her face. He slowly reached across her and gently pulled a lock of hair from her face and placed it on the pillow. “I wish everyone reacted as well as you do when they’re scared out of their wits,” he informed her in a gentle, yet serious tone. He then answered her previous question about whether or not he was sending her ashore. “No, Lieutenant,” he concluded. “You aren’t going anywhere. You’re what I call ‘a keeper,’ and I think I’d better just hold on to you as long as I can.”

Kristen smiled, the Demerol relaxing her more than she would have preferred. “I like the sound of that,” she exhaled happily knowing she was staying on board. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Is there anything I can get you? Anything at all?”

Kristen felt herself fading as sleep crept up on her. She shook her head, trying to stay with him for a few more minutes. Her right hand again reached for his arm. Once more he gently placed it at her side. “Could you maybe see to it Gibbs brings me my own robe this time,” she asked. “Last time he brought me that really big one; it smelled terrible.”

His calm, cool captain’s demeanor dissolved. She’d never seen him laugh, but he was laughing now. A warm and heartfelt belly laugh.

“It was a little big,” Kristen admitted remembering how Gibbs and Reed had been able to nearly wrap it around her twice. “I told Gibbs I have one in my cabin…”

A warm smile lingered after the laughter faded, and she found herself smiling as well. “I’ll see to it, Lieutenant. Anything else?”

Kristen thought for a moment. She was once again looking at his arms. “Officers aren’t supposed to have tattoos,” she murmured groggily. The Demerol was now in total control, and she looked up at his face. She felt like she was already dreaming, so she could say or do anything without any recourse. But, she swallowed the words that were forming on her lips.

“Merry Christmas, Captain,” she said instead as her eyes closed.

“Merry Christmas, Lieutenant.”

Army Headquarters, Republic of Korea, Seoul

M
in-ji Rhee was at her desk early as usual. She’d already cleaned the coffee cups, prepared a fresh pot and was ready to pour as soon as her boss arrived at 7:55. She appreciated his punctuality. After all, he was a military man and it seemed only proper. She paused for a few moments to study her appearance in a small mirror she kept in her middle desk drawer. Her long black hair was neatly arranged, and her eye liner had been applied just right. She touched up her lipstick, using the passion red she felt best complimented her light, porcelain skin. Once certain her lipstick and makeup were just right, she put the mirror away and stood, running a smoothing hand over her white blouse and dark skirt. She walked over to the credenza in the corner of her small office where the coffee service was, and poured two cups of strong, black coffee for the general and his aide. She then stepped back to her desk and waited dutifully by the corner.