Cross coughed, cleared his throat, gulped, then coughed again. Though the plan sounded simple, allowing them plenty of time, something always went wrong, causing unforeseeable delays.
“You okay, Marker?” asked Briscoe, slapping him on the back.
“Yeah, I’m okay, I just threw up a little in my mouth. Coffee must be too strong.”
Briscoe, glanced at Broward, winked, then said to Cross, “You’ve just got the jitters, Marker. Navy up, man, and look forward to being back home, lounging wherever you lounge, having a cold beer, watching the Golden Bears win. You’re good enough; I’m good enough; we can do it, bomb or no bomb. Just control your mind. Make the bomb disappear from the equation. You’ll be fine.”
He smiled. “Thanks, Chief. You always have had the right words. Funny, they still affect me the same way.” Then he frowned. “But, I don’t like the Golden Bears. That part sucked.”
Cross stood and said, “Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have to go topside before dark and check the Glider.”
As he departed, Broward looked at Briscoe with a questioning stare. “Think he’s going to make it, Briscoe? I’d hate to see him choke in the bottom of the ninth inning.”
“He’s all right Captain, I’ve seen this happen many times before. He seems to go into a fight-or-flight mode at times like this. Fortunately, his fight always wins.”
“Good to know, Briscoe. Commander Norton and I are counting on you. As a matter of fact, all of California is counting on you, too… but don’t tell them. They’ll know soon enough.”
With that, the Captain finished his coffee and left the Mess. Briscoe sat alone at the Captain’s table rehearsing tomorrow’s dive. Suddenly he realized the tow cable they had used to tie Adam to the Glider was tossed aside during the Osprey’s airlift frenzy. The crew had replaced it with a harness fitting the drop hook. Wonder if there’s another one, he thought. It would save a step, not having to trade out the makeshift cabling mess before the Osprey’s liftoff. He never realized there might be a warhead harness.
In the maintenance shop, Briscoe called a crewman over to ask about another harness. Disappearing into a corner, he returned with three over his arm, nested like woven baskets. “How many would you like? We make these almost monthly. The Navy seems to lose a lot of warheads, these days. We stay prepared.”
“Just one. I’d like it latched into the Glider’s forward cable reel, right under the starboard flood. The old one’s gone, somewhere. Probably blew off the deck during the storm.”
“Oh, we have that, too. Would you like it back?”
“No, thank you. The halter will be perfect.”
Briscoe checked that worry off his mental list and went topside to join Cross. On the forward port deck, lit by the Glider’s floods, he saw the manipulator arms going through wild motions. The sun, falling over the horizon, threw brilliant red and yellow rays overhead. The scene was from a horror movie; a monster coming alive in the fading dusk, feeling for anything to grasp onto.
“Hey, Marker, what are you doing?”
A voice from the cabin echoed through the hatch, “Practicing. Practice makes perfect, you know.”
“You’re going to have plenty of time for that in the morning, you know? At least four hours.”
“Not enough time, Chief. Not enough time.”
Briscoe paused, thinking Cross was having predive anxiety panic: too much to do, too little time, undetermined consequences. He had repeatedly seen it teaching dive classes, particularly when the outcome involved life-threatening or indeterminate results. He knew he had to calm Cross down, bring him back to reality, assuage his fears. Not an easy task on the brink of extinction.
“Marker, stop! Come down here. I need to talk to you right now.”
The manipulators ceased movement, Cross climbed through the hatch, and jumped down to the deck; then he stepped over to him.
“What?” he asked, indignantly.
“I’m not diving with you in your shape. You need rest, meditation, a healthy meal, then a good night’s sleep. Can you do that for me, Marker?”
A scolded child, he nodded, “I can, Chief. I’m just worried that I’ll make another mistake, like dropping the probe. That was inexcusable.”
“Did everybody live? Can we return and find it using the pi-ball’s beacon? Is it replaceable?” He glared at Cross. “Huh?”
“Well, yes to everything, Chief. I guess you’re right. I have to put it all into perspective; my worries are insignificant compared to a nuclear blast under us.”
“Exactly. And we can’t let that happen. Now, let’s go to Mess, have a good meal and forget about tomorrow. It will come soon enough.”
Cross smiled, “That’s a good plan. I’m ready for some down time.”
Over piled-high trays of a savory beef stroganoff, the chef’s specialty, they chatted. “So what will you do when you return home, Marker?”
“First I’m going to give my wife, Lindy, a long, long kiss. Depending on where that goes, I’ll pop a beer. Then I’ll prop my feet up on the coffee table, turn on the TV and let my mind go blank. Next, I’ll call into work and ask for a few days off. I’ve been on this case nineteen days straight; I need a vacation with her on top of a mountain somewhere, maybe Big Bear Lake. We can stay in bed, under the covers, all day, every day. Hmmm. How about you, Chief? What are you going to do?”
“Let’s see. I’ll go home to Barb. She’ll be glad to see me, especially if I’m no longer radioactive. She’ll put up with me for a few days, then want me out of her hair. I’ll go back to my cruiser and patrol route keeping our roads safe. That’s about it. My life is fairly boring, unless I’m on a high-speed chase. I love those.”
“No vacation?”
“Unfortunately, we have a lot of bills. My Navy pension and my CHP salary barely pay them, with very little left over for fun times. We’re stuck in the middle class rat race. Just can’t catch a break.”
Cross rubbed his chin, saddened, thinking. He forked a bite of noodles into his mouth and, chewing, said, “Tell you what Chief. I’m going to give you and Barb the break you need. I want you both to be my guests at Big Bear. I’d like to pay for everything. Can you get a week off?”
“Wh… what are you talking about? You can’t do that. You’re still young. Must have a lot of bills, yourself.”
“I do, but my corporation, MBORC, is paying me a hefty sum for this contract. I want to share it with you and Barb since I really couldn’t have done it without your help. Can you get a week off?” He was more insistent with the question.
“I think… think I can. But wh… why would you do that for us?”
“Chief, I’ve told you before; I would never have been where I am if it weren’t for you. You gave me knowledge, confidence, self-worth. And you’re still doing it, today. You are truly a master diver, more importantly you have a kind heart. Don’t ever forget that.”
He tore a corner off his paper napkin, took a pen from his pocket, and wrote on it. As he passed it to Briscoe, tears welled in the Chief’s eyes; he looked back at Cross, trembling and asked, “Is this real, Marker? You can’t mean it.”
It was an IOU for $500,000.
“I mean it, Chief. As soon as I get paid, I’ll write you a check. I’m still keeping a huge chunk of change. You and the wife can stop worrying about bills for a while.”
“But this is ten-year’s salary for me, Marker. Hell, I can stop worrying about traffic for a while, too. How could I ever repay you? “
“You already have, Chief. Go live your dreams for a while. Make me smile with your letters from far-away places. I’ll be living mine, under the sea, as always.”
Briscoe, leaned over, hugged Cross, then sat up, trying to compose himself. ”You’ll never know how much this means to me. Wish I could tell Barb. She’ll remember you; I used to talk about you all the time when I was teaching. You were my star pupil in every class; always did everything perfectly. Still doing it, too.”