Dan cleared his throat, then wished he hadn’t. Coming over the bridge speaker, it sounded horrible. But at least it would wake up anybody who was still asleep.
“This is the captain speaking.
“We’ve received new orders. Leave the Miyako area. Proceed to Guam for rearm and repairs. En route, carry out ASW operations, and also, check out where the Roosevelt battle group was last reported, looking for any survivors.
“I won’t kid you. We no longer have air cover or antimissile defenses. We do have some self-defense capability left, but we’ll have to use it wisely to get out of what, just between you and me, is a hell of a jam. We’ll all need to work together to get home safe.
“But we will make it out. And we’ll be back. The U.S. Navy has had to retreat before. But we’ve never given up. We’ve endured, rebuilt, come back, and, eventually, prevailed.”
He paused, fighting renewed nausea. He wasn’t sure he could make it to the bridge wing in time if he had to. Maybe the trash can was a better bet. Yeah… okay… He was still holding the fucking mike.… What else? “I know I can count on you. Let’s do our best, get through this, and… may God help us all.”
When he clicked off there was absolute silence for a moment. Then someone began clapping. It spread, and the southerners added rebel yells. All over the ship the clamor rose, mingled, and slowly died away.
He was throwing cold water on his face in his sea cabin when Nuckols came on the 1MC. “Now flight quarters, flight quarters. All hands man your flight quarters stations. Remove all covers topside. The smoking lamp is out on all weather decks. Muster the crash and salvage team with the team leader in the helo hangar. Muster the ready boat crew on the starboard boat deck.”
Dan contemplated shaving, but was too exhansted. Red-rimmed eyes stared back from the mirror. The battered, frightened face of a defeated, skedaddling commander. “Fuck that,” he muttered, but couldn’t say whom he was talking to. “Pull it together, Lenson. Pretend you know the answers.”
The trouble was, he wasn’t at all confident he did.
When he got back to CIC it was filled. The off watches had turned out to help. Well, he’d said they’d need to work together. But this was overdoing it. He told the CIC officer to clear the space unless someone had a good reason for staying. Then headed for the chair again, looking forward to another nap. That soft leather would suck him down like padded quicksand.…
But as he passed the air controller’s station the talker held up a hand. “Sir, ready boat crew reports—” The petty officer stopped, frowned, listening.
“What is it?” Dan said.
“There’s no RHIB.”
“What? What?”
“The boat deck’s empty. Davits are down. Ready fuel’s gone. Somebody already put it in the water.”
Dan rubbed his face. “What the heck? But—”
Then he understood. He told the crew to shift to the other boat, get it ready instead. Then pulled his Hydra off his belt. “Master-at-Arms, Captain.”
A sleepy voice. “Sheriff Toan, sir.”
“Who’s on duty, guarding Doctor Noblos?”
“Uh… that would still be the Special Agent, sir.”
“Check on her. Right now.”
Toan said he was on his way. Dan leaned back as Mills brought Savo around to launch course. Cautiously, since the seas were coming from that direction and he didn’t want to stress the damaged bow.
“Captain, CMA.”
“Go.”
“Sir, one of my men is here, in the passageway, but looks like somebody knocked him out. Noblos’s door is open. But he’s not in his cabin.”
Dan exchanged glances with Staurulakis. He told Toan, “Okay, get him medical attention. Then roust the agent. Get her up here ASAP.”
The little Vietnamese and his assistants hustled Aisha along the red-lit corridors as if she were the criminal. She’d been in her cabin, asleep, after handing off the guard duty. But then been awakened by a pounding at her door, and orders to dress as quickly as possible. Which she’d done so haphazardly, pulling on the coveralls and over-wrap she’d left on the floor, that she realized only halfway down the passageway she’d forgotten a head covering. She halted. “Wait. I forgot—”
“Never mind. CO wants you.”
“Don’t be so rough. Who’s got a bandanna?” She patted her shoulder, where the holster would be. She’d forgotten her gun, too. No, she’d given it to the petty officer who’d relieved her on guard duty. At last, in her pocket, her fingers closed on her baton.
CIC was almost bright after the passageways. She looked around for the physicist’s angular form, his brush-cut hair, but didn’t see him. A flash hood lay over the back of an empty chair. That would do. “Where is he?” she asked Toan as she draped it over her head, arranged it so her hair was covered again.
“You were supposed to guard the prisoner.”
“Goree offered to relieve me so I could sleep. Why?” A presentiment pricked her. “He didn’t do away with himself? In his cabin.”
“Noblos? No. Unfortunately.”
“Then what’s going on?”
The Vietnamese nodded behind her, and she spun to face Lenson. The captain looked ashen. Drawn. Those gray eyes barely seemed to note her. He muttered past her, to Toan, “Did you get hold of Medical?”
“Yessir. Hospitalman Ryan’s on the way.”
“What’s Ryan got to do with this?” Aisha asked. “What happened? Is Goree okay?”
A man at a console called, “Sir, boat officer reports the port RHIB manned and ready, with one exception.”
“Go,” Lenson said.
“The mechanic, EN1 Benyamin. Which is weird, ’cause usually he’s first on station. They sent a guy down to check, see if he’s in his bunk.”
Dan told Toan to get Chief McMottie up and looking for Benyamin. But a suspicion was growing. He crossed to the surface warfare supervisor’s station. Put a hand on the operator’s shoulder. “Any close-in contacts?” Past him he caught the special agent’s quizzical stare. She was in one of her dark wraps, with a flash hood over her head, so all he could see was her eyes. As though she wore a burqa.
“What’s going on, Captain?” she asked.
He held up a finger. “Just one minute.”
The operator was pointing at a speckle on his screen. Only a faint one, among a lot of random returns. They discussed it. The captain straightened, and ran his hands through his hair. Sighed.
“What’s going on?” she said again.
“Special Agent. The situation is… not totally clear at the moment. But we have a missing boat.”
She frowned. “Missing?”
“The starboard inflatable. It was swung out and fueled. But when we went to man up, it was gone. Along with one of the crew, apparently.”
“Who?”
“An engineman. Benyamin.”
“One of our original suspects,” she murmured.
“Excuse me?”
“He was on the short list. A serious misogynist. A rape-game player. With access to the electrical system.”
“But you cleared him? As a suspect, I mean?”
Aisha said carefully, “No sir. Only found better evidence pointing elsewhere.”
Toan put in, “Somebody knocked Goree out, Special Agent. Dr. Noblos is missing too.”
Aisha said, “Did Goree have a pistol on him, Chief? I loaned him mine. To stand guard with. Did you find it on him?”