Stonemeyer moved toward the starboard edge of Sea Base. “You seen the sharks yet?”
He had, but he shook his head, shocking himself. He’d just lied when he had no reason for it.
“Well, you have to see them. Within moments of Sea Base unfolding, they filled the ocean beneath us. All sizes,” Stone-meyer said. Whenever Stonemeyer spoke, he turned to face Andrew as they walked. The young man bubbled with enthusiasm as he shared his thoughts with the new shipmate.
When the two reached the safety lines running along the edge of Sea Base, there were no sharks to be seen. Stone-meyer whined that most likely it was too bright for them out here. Maybe they’re only in the shaded areas of Sea Base. He promised to show them to Andrew after GQ was secured.
As they turned toward the rail gun, Stonemeyer continued. “What I was saying was that we have a Bible study group on board, if you’re interested. Only about six of us, but we try to meet every night.”
Andrew smiled. God had sent Stonemeyer to him. He was not alone. “I would be honored to speak to all of you tonight.” Stonemeyer’s face scrunched in confusion. “Speak to us?” “Of course. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
Stonemeyer smiled and looked uncomfortable. “Of course. We’d love to have you speak with us tonight. It would be good to hear your experiences.” Then, almost in a conspiratorial whisper, he added, “Not many such as us make time to study His words.”
“I can understand that,” Andrew said, reaching out and patting the man on the shoulder. “Into every flock a shepherd must come. As much to lead as to protect.” He let out a deep breath. “Brother, I am glad God has brought us together. He has so much love and I have so much to do in His name.”
“I’m happy too. You will be the first newcomer to our group in over a month,” Stonemeyer replied too quickly.
Andrew heard the joy in the man’s voice. Is this man a disciple sent from God, or only a dove to lead him to others who could be molded into an arm of God’s Army? Thoughts of killing Jacobs and Agazzi were still there, but the thrill of meeting other worshippers overrode the immediacy of the deed. His father had his flock and Andrew needed his. He wondered how many tonight would recognize his omnipotence when he arrived.
After a while, it became obvious to Andrew that this Stone-meyer had no close friends. He hoped the others at tonight’s Bible group were of similar nature to this Stonemeyer. Lonely people turn to God more often, and are always looking for a shepherd to help with their burdens.
TEN
Garcia leaned forward; his elbow bumped the empty coffee cup lodged in the holder on his Captain’s chair. The electronic hum of background noise mixed with the soft patter of voices in the blue light of the darkened Combat Information Center. Long wires ran from sockets in the bulkheads crisscrossing the deck like giant vines in some cavernous fantasy, until they leaped upward to the headsets of the sound-powered telephone talkers.
Sound-powered telephone talkers dotted the area within Combat, one hand always on the button of the mouthpiece, pushing it down when they talked quietly into it. The slight clicks reminded Garcia of crickets. His eyes went from one sound-powered phone talker to another. The most junior sailors usually manned the sound-powered phones, which were the last vestige of a technology long superseded by a rapidly changing world of information. As much as information technology and communications continued to advance in the twenty-first century, the risk of it all coming down to these simple early-twentieth-century devices for internal communications existed. They had not changed much since World War
II. Bulbous helmets with protruding mouthpieces and earpieces made you think of soldier ants with giant mandibles. But those cumbersome helmets, trailing wires, and junior sailors were the last and final line of maintaining communications within the ship. The antiquated sound-powered telephones gave the Captain the ability to fight and save the ship regardless of battle damage.
The overhead speaker squeaked, drawing his attention back to the situations unfolding in front of him.
“Black Formation, Raptor Formation, and Weasel; this is Mother, I have control, report status.”
Garcia bit his lower lip and nodded once. The words came from the red speaker mounted overhead to his left. Red meant the transmissions were protected by secure enciphered communications. Only those with the right security keys could hear it. Mother was the call sign for the British carrier Elizabeth. The Sea Base F-22A Raptors had crossed out of Garcia’s area of operations and into the British area of control.
“Raptor Haven, Raptor Leader; formation of two F-22A fighters switching to Mother control.”
“Roger, Raptor Leader; good hunting. Check in with Raptor Air Intercept Control upon commencement of return flight.”
Garcia nodded once in silent acknowledgment to that broadcast transferring the final two fighters to British control. Major Johnson and her formation were heading south into the Taiwan Strait because the Chinese were trying to encircle the Rivet Joint bird. Major Crawford and his wingman were only minutes behind her. Now, Captain Nolan and Captain Delaney were heading into the fray. Meanwhile, Garcia had eight missing torpedoes to add to the mystery of these tactical dances between the Chinese and them.
“Roger, Raptor Haven.”
Garcia motioned Stapler over.
“Stan, I want to listen to the TACAIR channel even though I know they’ve transferred under the control of the Elizabeth. I want to keep us aware of the ongoing action with the RC-135.”
Stapler twisted his head slightly and nodded at the speaker. “No plans to change it, sir,” Stapler replied. “All our F-22s are launched. Only the Air Force hangar queen left on the deck.
Nothing left to do but handle our submarine problem and listen to them.”
Garcia nodded. “Good,” he said, his tone firm. He was enjoying this role of a war-fighter. A month ago, he was a Navy captain whose whole career, since XO on a destroyer as a lieutenant commander, had been taking ships out to sea to test new programs, equipment, and systems. In this past month, he had fought a major sea battle and an attempt to land forces on Sea Base. He smiled until he thought of the young pilot in the burn unit in San Antonio. A breath of fear traced across his conscious. He began to recite the Rosary silently. At about the third Hail Mary, a slight smile spread for a moment across his face as the peace in his prayer eased his guilt over the proud feelings of his performance in the Sea of Japan.
“Shit,” whispered the first-class petty officer to a second class standing nearby.
“What’s wrong?”
“Iron Man smiled,” he replied, nudging the other sailor to look at Garcia.
The sailor visibly shivered. “Shit, man. He’s not smiling now. You sure he smiled? Maybe he yawned.”
“Man, I know the difference between a yawn and a smile. He smiled. Ain’t good.”
“Means he’s looking forward to whatever shit is about to happen.”
“Torpedoes coming at us. Invisible aircraft trying to shoot down our invisible aircraft and he’s smiling.” The first class let out a big sigh and grinned. “Damn glad I’m on his side of this.” “Me too. I’m about ready to change my skivvies and he’s sitting there, legs crossed and smiling. Almost as if he wants someone to fuck with us.”
“They don’t know what sex is until Iron Man fucks with them.”
“Yeah, man.”
The main war-fighting consoles were aligned like slot machines in a semicircle directly across from Garcia’s chair. He could easily sit here, sip coffee, and fight this humongous floating island without ever leaving his seat. He lifted his cup, noticed it was empty, and put it back in the holder.