“It allows a submarine to spend weeks underwater without snorkeling, even while making appreciable headway, and I want my entire fleet to have that advantage. I had my Taiwanese partners build the Specter with it. They are quite capable of cutting the Wraith’s hull and inserting a MESMA section.”
Sagging skin at the corner of Navarro’s eyes betrayed his fatigue as he offered a rare smile.
“I should have an agreement within hours to retake Mischief Reef,” he said. “I can expand our fishing areas to fertile seas in the morning, and I can deploy an oil platform in four days. Despite losing a frigate, two gun boats, and a rusting beached hulk, I consider this a monumental evening.”
The Frenchman blew smoke into the ventilation system.
“I earn my clients by repeat business and word of mouth,” he said. “It has been my pleasure, and I trust that you’ll keep me in mind for your future needs and those of your allies.”
CHAPTER 22
The next night, Jake watched the stopwatch on his phone tick off the final minute of the sixty that had elapsed since taking his Naltrexone pill.
“Time!” he said.
“Here’s your coldie, mate!”
The Australian slid him a pint, and he chugged it until the sting in his throat forced him to slam the quarter-full glass onto the table.
“This pill Pierre’s making me take has no effect,” he said. “I still love beer.”
“Give it a few months,” Renard said. “There’s no need for alarm. Your love of beer will remain intact. It’s the craving that will subside.”
“Well, for now, you’ll excuse me if I pickle myself as fast as I can.”
The same foursome sat around the same table where they had met prior to the railgun module’s deployment. However, Jake noticed a refreshing levity, even from the chief of staff.
“I think I’ll have another,” Navarro said.
“You earned it, my friend,” Renard said.
The Frenchman levied a perfect pour with a foamy head.
“Nicely done, mate!”
Cahill’s smile ebbed and he looked into his beer. Jake knew what troubled him.
“Are you sure you don’t want to fight it?” he asked.
“Nah, it’s okay, mate. I’ve been through it a thousand times in me head. I’m done with the navy.”
Upon his arrival at the covered pier, Cahill had shared the news that his admiralty had relieved him of command for interfering in a bilateral engagement between the Philippines and China. He had been ordered to observe and share information with the Philippine forces, but engaging the Shang, even with a limpet weapon, had violated his orders.
“I’d fight it out of principle,” Jake said.
“There’s nothing to fight for, really. I’ve angered too many people to expect any future promotions, and if I get me ship back, everything’s downhill from yesterday as far as adventure goes.”
“So that’s it? You quit?”
“Technically, I’ve been fired.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“No idea, mate. Go home and take this uniform off. Find me a sheila and settle down. I’m sure there’s some sort of work I could do. I haven’t given it much thought yet.”
“No kidding. This is bullshit and it’s happening so fast,” Jake said. “You were commanding a submarine in combat last night.”
He finished his beer, poured himself another, and gulped.
“Combat,” Cahill said. “It feels like I went through it all in someone else’s body. I think I was scared when all those ships passed by me with their sonars blaring, but I don’t remember feeling anything.”
“That’s how it is, man,” Jake said. “It’s weird like that. But what happened? How’d you tag that Shang?”
“It’s as easy as you might guess. I just pushed ahead, waited, and listened. It was moving too fast to miss. I figured you could use the help, what with everything that was going on.”
“You took advantage of an opportunity and may have saved my life. I can’t believe the Royal Australian Navy doesn’t get it.”
“You have to see it from their perspective. I took Her Majesty’s Australian Ship and a crew that’s worth tens of millions of dollars in training investments, and I risked it all to help a mercenary take hostile action against an angry giant. Not exactly a recipe for making me a candidate for prime minister.”
Finishing his second beer, Jake decided to slow his pace with the third. He poured with a savoring grace. As he slid the empty pitcher to the edge of the table, he noticed Renard in deep thought.
His mentor’s face appeared hard, the lines of age more pronounced than he’d remembered. An unspoken vibe from the Frenchman tuned itself to Jake’s empathetic frequency, and he knew to leave his friend undisturbed.
“After your service to our nation, I would hate to see you unemployed,” Navarro said. “Admiral Torres could benefit from your services as an advisor. Our first submarine will be here soon, and we need technical and tactical experts to guide us. Of course, you’d need to be here frequently, but travel arrangements could be made to allow you to spend a significant time in Australia.”
“Well, I’m flattered, mate, and I thank you. And I have no trouble traveling. I’d love to look into your offer. After last night, I’m feeling a real need for adventure.”
“Then command my submarine!” Renard said.
Silence spread throughout the entire bar, its blend of French, Philippine, and Australian patrons entering a shared schism in the space-time-logic continuum.
Jake studied his mentor with burning eyes. As he absorbed the news, he suspected he had slipped into a dream.
“I have two submarines and only one Jake,” Renard said. “I wanted to lead the Specter in defending the oil platform, but I’ve conceded that I’m too old. I need a man like you. No offense to Mister Navarro, but he can find consultants elsewhere. I, however, consider it a gift when I find a man of mettle whose vision aligns with mine and has the freedom to join me.”
Having broken free of the tortuous path to his decision and the bondage of its secrecy, the Frenchman blushed with relief.
“Holy shit,” Jake said.
“I hope you take no offense, Mister Navarro,” Renard said.
“None taken. He would be underutilized as an advisor. I was merely trying to prevent his leaving the submarine field entirely.”
“You know I appreciate the offer, Pierre. I really do. Words don’t describe the honor of your confidence in me.”
The Frenchman’s response might have sounded like a plea from a weaker man, or it might have sounded like an order from an impatient man. But from Renard, it issued as destiny.
“Then say ‘yes’.”
The color in Cahill’s face and the dilation of his pupils betrayed his exhilaration. The Australian had no chance, but he jockeyed for breathing room.
“How long do I have to decide?”
“The Specter deploys in two days. I’ll give you until the lines are cast off.”
Cahill sipped from his beer in a moment of silence that made Jake uncomfortable. He wanted to slap the answer out of him as the Australian lowered his glass.
“To be clear. You want me to command the Specter? It would be mine?”
“Initially,” Renard said. “I would then task you in overseeing the addition of the MESMA plant to the Wraith. I’ll want you to be as familiar with both ships as Jake is so that I can call on either of you to command either ship.”
“And me crew?”
“Jake is fluent in French, and I’ll keep pulling his crew from the French Navy. However, everyone in my fleet must be fluent in English, and I’ll want cross-decking to assure knowledge transfer between teams. For your crew, I’ll recruit from Anglophone navies.”