“Excuse me, sir, but what strategy will we put into play once we cross the perimeter?”
The Captain managed a bare smile.
“I guess that’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it, Lieutenant? I’d say that the best way to start things out is for you to find us a nice, deep hole somewhere between San Clemente and Catalina. If nature cooperates, perhaps we’ll also come up with a clearly defined thermal to further mask us. Then all we have to do is shut down all systems and wait for our pursuers to show themselves.
Once we know precisely who’s after us and where they’re coming from, determining a tactic to further evade them will be a hell of a lot easier.”
Pushing his chair back from the table, the Captain continued, “If there are no other questions, gentlemen, I’d say that it’s time for both of you to get down to some serious work.”
Taking this cue, the XO stood and allowed the Navigator room to slide out from the booth and stand beside him. Benton watched as Lieutenant McClure, noticeably taller and thinner than his own five-foot, nine-inch frame, efficiently gathered the charts that had been spread out before the Captain. Once this task was accomplished, both officers exited through the forward hatchway that led to the boat’s control room.
Alone now in the wardroom, Exeter gazed at the framed picture hung above the booth to his left. Here was drawn a full-colored representation of the fierce animal they were so aptly named for. With eyes bulging and showing no fear, the lean, long-bodied wild hog prepared to charge a full-grown bear. Oblivious to the fact that it was clearly outsized, the razorback was about to initiate its attack with stubborn determination and pointed tusks as its only apparent strong points.
How fitting it was that this beast should be their namesake, thought Exeter. Like the charging hog in the picture, his submarine faced a most formidable challenge. Designed in a technological era that had yet to put a man in space, their twenty-seven year-old vessel had been forced to prove its current worth time after time. Manned by sailors who weren’t even born when its hull was laid, the Razorback found itself in a totally new world of micro-chips and minicomputers.
Were they a mere anachronism as many in the Navy currently believed, or did they still have a valuable purpose to serve? In Philip Exeter’s mind, there was no doubt about the answer to this question. As long as he was the commanding officer, the sub would give its all and prove her critics wrong.
Distracted by the presence of another individual to his right, Exeter pivoted and set his glance on the doleful-eyed seaman presently responsible for upkeep of the officer’s galley.
“Excuse me. Captain, but can I fix you a platter of fresh scrambled eggs and sausage? Cooky’s just pulled a mess of hot biscuits out of the oven, and there’s still some cinnamon rolls left to boot.”
Though he had yet to eat a thing since the previous day’s late lunch with Carla, thoughts of food didn’t entice Exeter in the least.
“I’m afraid I’m going to pass on that, Simpson. I’d like you to fill my thermos with some fresh coffee, though. Please set it up in my quarters.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” replied the soft-spoken seaman, who immediately began carrying out the request.
Most aware of the work that still faced him, Exeter stood and stretched his cramped frame. Crossing the hallway, he took less than a half-dozen steps to reach the space reserved for his private domain. Seaman Simpson was just leaving as he shut the folding door behind him and took a seat before his compact, wallmounted desk.
Because the Razorback had been in San Diego a mere three days after returning from their month’s assignment up north, he found himself faced with a variety of memos and reports and a stack of unopened mail. Each of these documents would have to be carefully scrutinized. Before tackling this time consuming project, he decided that his attentions should be first turned to the sealed manila envelope his own wife had given him the previous afternoon.
Slitting open the flap with a letter opener, he pulled out the envelope’s contents, a single eight-by-eleven inch photograph.
The picture was of Carla and his two daughters, Connie and Carmen. It had to have been taken recently, for his wife was wearing that new kimono he had brought her from Seattle only four days before. Carla loved it when he bought her new clothes and, as always, she had been quick to, make a fuss over this newest outfit. In fact, she had been modeling it for him the previous afternoon when the messenger had arrived with the surprise order calling him back to the base. Just as shocked as she was, Philip had accepted her offer to drive him over to Point Loma to see what the order was all about.
One look at his CO’s face and he knew that they’d be going off to sea once again. Even though they had just returned from thirty days of joint U.S.-Canadian ASW exercises in the Gulf of Alaska, Command needed the Razorback for yet another mission. Ever mindful of his sworn duty, he had sent Carla homeward with her heart full of disappointment and her eyes full of tears. It was as she prepared to leave the base that she had handed him the sealed envelope and had made him promise he’d open it once they were out of port.
As he studied the glossy photograph, he became aware of his own rising emotions. His girls appeared before him, glowing with life and full of inner beauty. His Carla looked as gorgeous as the day he had first met her, over twenty-one years before. The pink kimono he had bought her fit her tiny figure perfectly. He knew her size well, for her waistline hadn’t changed for over two decades. Considering her cooking skills, this was quite an accomplishment.
Standing on Carla’s right was their oldest, Connie.
Appearing like a carbon copy of her mother, from her slim, compact figure to her pixie-like haircut, Connie seemed full of intense energy. Considering her busy schedule of late, Philip was surprised that Carla had been able to get her to take some time out for this photo. Why, even after being gone an entire month, he had only gotten to see Connie a single time, on the first evening he had returned home.
Far from taking it as a personal affront, Philip knew that she was at the age at which there just didn’t seem to be enough hours in the day. Lord knows she had never been the type of girl he had ever had to worry about. A straight-A student for as long as he could remember, Connie was the kind of kid a parent dreamed of. Level-headed and most aware of her responsibilities, she complimented her excellent schoolwork with both a weekend and full-time summer job.
For the last four years she had been working at Sea World. There she had become particularly fascinated with the dolphins. So intense was her interest that she even planned to make oceanography her major when she entered the University of California at San Diego as a freshman that fall.
Philip shook his head with wonder upon realizing that he’d soon have a girl in college. The years’ swift passage were even more apparent in the face and figure of the young woman standing at Carla’s left.
Even though she was three years her sister’s junior, Carmen was already the taller of the two, and still growing. Even her full figure seemed to be more developed. Philip knew this could be trouble in the months to come, because Carmen was having enough problems with the boys as it was. Drawn to her long, dark hair, baby-blue eyes, and warm, devilish smile, the boys at Loma High were already falling under her spell, just as he had.
Though Carmen was in many ways Connie’s opposite, Philip always had a soft spot in his heart for her.
Perpetually in disciplinary trouble, and struggling just to keep a C average. Carmen found it hard to keep her attention focused on a subject for any significant length of time. Particularly weak in science and mathematics, she was right at home in physical education. Tennis, swimming, and jogging were her favorites. A natural athlete, Carmen had a closet full of trophies and ribbons. Most of these awards had been won at the Navy country club.