The Cruiser: A Dan Lenson Novel (29 page)

He looked around for Quincoches, but the chief was already gone. “I’ll find out,” said Danenhower, and went after him.

Dan found an empty chair and sagged into it. Should he go out and observe as the gunner’s mates, missile, went in? No. He’d just be in the way. Where was Almarshadi, though? He called CIC again, then the bridge, but the exec was at neither, and didn’t answer on his Hydra. “What the hell,” Dan muttered.

He got up, and raised his voice so everyone in CCS could hear. “Good job, everybody—plus we got lucky. Bart, I want you and Matt to head up an investigation team. Find out how that fire started and what we can recommend as a class change, so it doesn’t happen again.” He paused, wondering if there was anything he should add. If so, it wasn’t occurring to him. His head felt like cast lead. “Okay, well, I’m headed back up to the bridge.” He slapped McMottie’s shoulder, gave a thumbs-up to everyone else, and stepped through a door someone jerked open for him.

*   *   *

BY
the time he got back to Combat the reaction, whatever it was, was slowing him down. His throat seemed to be closing up. It was harder than usual to catch his breath after climbing four sets of ladders. He leaned on the back of his chair and took slow deep breaths, contemplating the large-screen displays.
Lahav
had closed; their two pips were nearly merged. The group out of As-Suways, the Iranians, were tracking northeast at twelve knots. Aside from that, the east Med was empty. He started to tell Mills what was going on, but the combat systems officer said quietly he’d already put the word about the fire out over chat. Task Force staff wanted a status as soon as he could get it but were glad it was under control. And the leading chief aft, Quincoches, was in the module now inspecting damage. He’d make a report as soon as possible on how the fire had initiated.

Dan nodded. “Good. I’m gonna depend on you to write that up, Matt. Then get with Quincoches and Amy and Hermelinda about what we need for repairs. Maybe they can helo-lift us some spare cables or whatever from
Cape St. George
or
San Jacinto
when this fucking snow lets up.”

He ran a hand back over his hair, which felt greasy and sweaty. Unfortunately, he could forget about fresh missiles to replace the burned-out and flooded ones. VLS-equipped ships had such a large capacity to start with that the Navy had pretty much dismissed any provision for underway replenishment. He checked the status board; not surprisingly, the
MISSILE READY
number had dropped by half. He caught Donnie Wenck’s eye on the far side of the compartment and went over. Christ, I’m juiced, he thought. He lifted his hand and watched it shake, as if it were someone else’s. As he reached the Aegis consoles the door to CIC creaked and a slim figure slipped through. Singhe nodded, and he remembered Quincoches’s dig.
“She ain’t down here.”

“Afternoon, sir,” she said. He nodded back coolly.

Wenck said, “Damn, sir, glad we got that sucker put to bed.”

“You and me both, Donnie. But now we’re down to two Block 4s. How’s ALIS doing?”

“She’s hanging in there,” said Terranova from her console. “Actually, we got a little good news, sir. The space track system’s back up.”

“You’re kidding. How’d you get that fixed?”

Wenck got that distant look. “Well, glitch was, when we downloaded the TLE data file, the Space Five wouldn’t display any satellites. Like they wasn’t there at all. So we’re like, what the fuck, over? It was like, the system just wouldn’t display any acquisition requests. Right?”

“Yeah, uh, I guess—”

Singhe said, “I can background you on that, sir. If you’d like it.”

“All right. Sure.”

She said, “When we’re in tactical mode, SCUS develops the SAR messages based on satellite orbital data, own ship position, and common Aegis time-slash-date. This queues the array to search a given volume of space for something that meets the acquisition parameters. Turns out one of Petty Officer Terranova’s team made a slight mistake. Eastwood downloaded the wrong bulk two-line element catalog data from a training-mode file. Not hard to do, by the way—”

“Just a second.” Dan keyed the Hydra and checked in with CCS. Temperatures were still falling in the affected cells. They’d gotten the hatch in 16 pried open, and dewatering was under way. “Sorry, go ahead. You were saying—”

“Sayin’, they oughta have some kind of warning flag when you’re accessing training-mode stuff,” Wenck said.

Mills nodded. “I’ll put it in my recommendations. But when the system bumps that against its own source selects for current ops, it deletes them all, because the satellite header data doesn’t match. And you go blank screen.”

The chief said, “Once we got that figured out we redownloaded from the right catalog and suddenly everything lines up cherries and bells ring and quarters start coming out.”

Dan had more or less followed this explanation. “And who actually
did
figure that out? Just for my own information?”

Singhe pointed to Terranova. So did Wenck. “Okay, really good,” Dan said. “Well done, Petty Officer. But I’m surprised Dr. Noblos didn’t catch it. He’s the one who’s been telling us we’re not up to expectations.”

Wenck lowered his voice. “I’m not sure he’s as much of an operator as he’s, like, more of a high-level guy, Dan. I mean,
Captain.
He’s got the math at his fingertips, sure. But when it’s a question of which line of code you go to to pick up satellite ephemeridae, he’s like a deer in the headlights.”

Dan blinked, trying not to look like a deer. “Uh-huh. Well, good. So all your troops are straight on this now, Terror? I mean, Petty Officer Terranova? Eastwood’s not gonna do that again?”

“Yessir, all my guys are on step. Got a checklist to run through when we download the data set.”

“And how often do we do that?”

“Every twelve hours.”

“We miss an update, what happens?”

“The solutions degrade,” Wenck said. “But gracefully. We can miss one update and it’s not a big deal. Miss two or three, the track starts to wander off. You don’t know if you’re looking at your own system degradation, or increasing uncertainty exactly where that piece of space junk you’re tracking really is.” Singhe nodded.

Dan nodded too. He started to turn away, then remembered. “Hey, any of you seen the XO?”

“They were looking for him a while ago.” Wenck shrugged. “Wasn’t here, or in Strike.”

“He hasn’t been on the bridge since before the fire.” Singhe looked concerned. “We called his stateroom several times.”

“Anybody go down and knock?”

“I’m not sure, Captain.”

Dan clicked on his Hydra, but got a blinking low-battery alarm. He swapped it for a recharged battery and called the bridge. “CO here. Anybody seen the XO yet?”

Pardees’s languid voice murmured that they hadn’t. Dan told him to send the boatswain’s mate down to check Almarshadi’s stateroom. “Tell him we need him online right away, and where’s he been—he was supposed to—no, never mind. Just tell him to contact me right away in CIC.”

Singhe frowned. “Should we put out a man overboard, sir?”

“That’s the next step, but let’s see if he’s just crashed so hard he’s not answering his phone.” Actually he didn’t want to think about a man overboard. Not when he remembered how depressed and upset Almarshadi had been at their last meeting. If he’d thrown a leg over the lifelines, they’d never find him in these seas. He pushed that vision away. “Okay, we’re still up on ALIS, our SCUS is back online, and we’ve got two Block 4s live. Eric, let
Lahav
know our fire’s out and we no longer need his presence close aboard. So thanks and he can resume his … uh, his station on us. Or no—just thank him. Say we’ve got everything under control. Same to
Pittsburgh
. Okay, any updates from the war zone?”

Mills said nothing much new had come through from Iraq or the task force. The Coalition land forces seemed to be punching through the initial defenses. “They’re saying this might not be a very long war.”

“That’d be good.” He slicked back his hair again. Why was he still perspiring? Maybe because if his defenses were crumbling, the dictator might not wait to wind up his Sunday punch.
Savo
might be the only shield between helpless people and that roundhouse, whatever shape it came in.

A stir at the door from aft. He lifted his gaze to Almarshadi, in darker than usual blue coveralls. The little man’s onyx eyes slid aside, wandered back. The XO nodded to Mills, who pointed to Dan. As he reached them Dan saw the darker tone was dampness; Almarshadi’s coveralls were wet through.

“Skipper? Looking for me?”

Dan kept his voice down, but with an effort. “Where
were
you, Fahad? We had a fire aft. I needed you on the bridge. We’ve been looking all over.”

Almarshadi glanced at Singhe, Wenck, Terranova. “Where was I? Down in the breaker. Having a smoke.”

“A
smoke
? We just had a magazine fire. For Christ’s sake…” Dan got a deep breath, let it out. Not now. Not in front of their juniors. “Let’s go over there and—”

Mills called, “Captain? McMottie on the line. Wants to ask about debris disposal?”

“Over the side.”

“Got it, sir.”

At the far end of Combat, by the darkened nav table, they were finally out of earshot of everybody but the Phalanx operator. Dan put his back to the console and muttered, “Damn it, Fahad. We had a burning booster in the VLS. You weren’t on the bridge. Weren’t in your rack. I was about to call away a man overboard! And you’re down smoking in the breaker? This is totally unsat. I mean, there’s got to be two of you aboard. Just one guy couldn’t mess up this bad.”

“I apologize if I don’t meet your standards.”

Dan slammed a fist at an equipment frame, pulling the punch at the last microsecond, so he didn’t break his knuckles. “They’re not
my
goddamn standards, Commander! We’re in Condition Three ABM. We can get a missile down our throats on fifteen seconds’ notice. I needed you to spell me in the command seat. Can I depend on you to be there?”

The liquid eyes slid aside. The exec was at parade rest, hands locked behind him. The ship leaned, creaking around them. A metallic snap somewhere aft. The superstructure again? Dan almost missed the softly spoken reply. “I’m not sure you can, sir.”

He cleared his throat, suddenly at sea in more ways than one. What was going on here? He’d had difficult subordinates before. Been a headache to his own seniors more than once. But he’d never come across someone like this. How had this guy made commander? How had he made
jaygee
? “I’m sort of at a loss here, Fahad. You’re saying … I can’t count on you? Or I’d better not? Or what? Exactly?”

“No sir. It was you who said that.”

“So what’s your take on it?”

“I was in the breaker.”

“Why are you all wet?”

“There’s spray coming over the bow. It’s getting rougher out there.” The little man tilted a wrist to check his watch. His voice quavered, but he appeared to be growing more resolute, not less. Dan was fitting together words, exploring how to ask whether he’d been down there contemplating doing away with himself, when his second in command murmured, “I don’t believe this was my scheduled time in CIC anyway. Not according to the rotation.”

“True, but I needed you.” He remembered the Motorola, and glanced at Almarshadi’s belt line. The XO wasn’t wearing it. “Where’s your Hydra? We’ve been calling you on that just about nonstop.”

“It’s back in my stateroom. Recharging.” Almarshadi frowned, as if taking back the initiative. “Captain, I have to protest. I was off duty. I went to my stateroom, put my battery on charge, then went down to the breaker for a smoke. Yes, I heard something aft. I didn’t know what it was. But the next thing I know, when I come in, you’re about to call away a man-overboard muster for me. And then you’re insulting me in front of the junior officers. Even the enlisted.

“To be frank, this is unjust. I know your wife was injured in the attack on the World Trade Center. I know you were hurt at the Pentagon. And yes, I am an Arab. I may have my shortcomings as an exec. If I’m not performing to your expectations, relieve me. But I’m not your enemy, Daniel.”

Dan splayed his fingertips to his temples. What was this asshole saying? That this whole fuckup was
his
fault? He said thickly, “This discussion’s over. Go to your stateroom. Don’t leave it again. Until I get … until I decide what to do about you.”

“Aye aye, sir.” Fahad nodded, about-faced crisply, and faded like a specter down the row of antisubmarine consoles, past the curtains of Sonar, passing from sight.

Dan lowered his hands, shaking. He’d pressed them to his temples so he couldn’t wrap them around Almarshadi’s throat. “Son of a
bitch,
” he whispered. Every time he faced off with the guy, he understood him less. He was sinking away, losing contact. Only who was actually receding? The other, or himself?

Mills, voice lifted to reach the far end of the space. “Captain? Prelim bitchback from Chief Quincoches. On the 21MC.”

“I’ll be right there.” He cleared his throat, which seemed to be closing up again. Then with swift, tired strides, headed back for his post.

14

Oparea Adamantine

HE
shifted in his chair as the night came for him out of the east. Out of a graphite, darkening sky, out of the blasts of snow.

The bridge was in full darken ship, every pilot lamp and screen turned to its night setting. The bridge team spoke in murmurs, near whispers. Dan kneaded his cheeks. So fucking tired.…

He’d watched as Quincoches and the other gunner’s mates had very gingerly boat-hooked the charred remains of a Sparrow II RIM-7P frag-and-blast warhead up out of the pried-open hatch. They’d set it on a cargo net. Ollie Uskavitch had pointed out the fuze booster to Dan, the weapons officer explaining how it had been designed to melt instead of detonating the main charge. It was melted, all right: a shapeless blob of blackened material that didn’t look like much of anything now. The main charge had burned entirely, leaving only a cagelike structure of charred, warped steel. Dan couldn’t stop a shiver ratcheting his spine as Grissett, who seemed to be the ship’s photographer as well as the chief corpsman, bent close, snapping off shot after shot. Turning the thing over, snapping off more. The lightning flicker of the strobe illuminated only a tiny circle of the deck.