“Send Brandie Anderson to the archives in Spain,” Brande said.
“You sweet on her?” Thomas asked him.
Dokey glanced briefly at both of them, then said, “He’s not, but I am.”
“The practical research experience will do more for her than a hundred hours of classroom time,” Brande said.
“A free trip to Spain for her? You know what that will cost? Oh, hell. Okay.”
“Did you work up an inspection schedule, Okey?” Brande asked.
“Yup. Right here.”
Dokey slid the paper across the table and Brande studied it for a few minutes. One of the enemies of oceanographic exploration was the sea itself. No matter how waterproof a compartment seemed to be, moisture crept in and corroded delicate electronics, causing shorts and outright failures. All of the ROVs and DepthFinder; though now considered prepared for service, would be inspected regularly, every six hours.
Dokey’s inspection chart listed the times, the primary inspector, the backup inspector, and the test equipment to be used. There were columns in which to pencil in initials and times of examination.
“Looks good, Okey. Go ahead and post it.”
“Okay, Chief”
Dokey slid out of his chair and took his mug of coffee with him.
“Hey, Dane!”
Larry Emry was at his contrived workstation in the first booth. In addition to his computer terminal, a telephone line and a radio transmitter had been added to the booth.
“What’s up, Larry?”
“I just talked to CINCPAC. The first transponder is in place. Dropped by the Houston.”
In keeping with the Navy’s search scheme, the submarines were going to plant transponders — emitting a recorded signal on four different frequencies — at each corner of the search area. Not only would they define the search region, they could be used to triangulate the position of each search vessel. Supplementing the Global Navigation System, the accuracy of the search would be enhanced.
“Did you get the frequencies?” Brande asked.
“Damn betcha. And I’ve got my final chart prepared. Do I ship it to the Kane?”
“I suppose so. Otherwise, I get court-martialed.”
“Can they court-martial a civilian?” Thomas asked.
“I doubt it, but I don’t put them above trying.” Dane called over the back of the booth, “And Larry, send it to CINCPAC, too.”
“How about the subs?”
“Yeah. Ask Pearl Harbor for contact frequencies, and when the subs come up for air or something, we’ll zip them some charts.”
“If we’re going that far,” Thomas asked, “should we include the Russians in our mailing list? And the Japanese?”
“Let’s hold off for now. Maybe we’ll need a bargaining chip later.”
Thomas had reached the last page of her notes.
“Anything else, Rae? I want to put everyone on sleep duty. They’ll need to get as much as they can before we go into action.”
“One item, Dane. On the workboats, Iʼm going to sell off Priscilla. We’ll use the proceeds to overhaul and retrofit Cockamamie and Mighty Moose *
“Is that your final decision?” he asked.
“What?” Defensively.
“I think it’s great. Can we paint them white, with the yellow diagonal?”
“If we get enough money out of Priscilla.ˮ
“Not firing Bull Kontas?”
“He’ll retire soon, I suppose.” She gave him a lopsided grin.
Brande slid out of the booth. “If that’s it, Rae, Iʼm going to go tuck people in.”
“They won’t tuck very well in broad daylight,” she said. “Can we talk for a minute?”
“Sure.”
“Out on deck.”
Thomas rose from the bench seat, and he followed her out of the wardroom. She was wearing white deck shoes, white slacks, and a blue-and-white striped, bow-necked polo shirt. Her stride was very deliberate, countering the slight rise and fall of the deck. He found himself appreciating the taut fabric of her slacks.
Brande reached around her to open the door to the side deck, and they stepped out. The sun was bright, and the wind created by the speed of the ship was warm. It tousled her hair. Somewhat sensuously, Brande thought. To the west, the view was more dismal. Tall stratocumulus clouds reached for the sky, and their bases were dark and threatening.
Thomas turned and leaned against the railing.
He stepped close to her, so they did not have to shout over the breeze and the loud whisper of water passing the hull.
“About last night … ” she started.
“All right. What about last night?”
“Iʼm sorry I fell apart like that.”
“Nothing to be sorry about, Rae. All of us are frightened from time to time, and right now is a damned good time to be scared.”
“It’s certainly not the image I want to project as a manager.”
“Who’s to know?”
“Well, Okey…”
“In spite of popular belief, Okey is very tight-mouthed about the important things.”
Her mouth was barely touched with cinnamon lipstick. It suddenly looked inviting to Brande.
“Can I ask you a question? One that Iʼve always wanted to ask?”
“Sure.”
“Why won’t you call me Kaylene?”
Flash of blue-green water, so clear that he could see for a hundred feet. Yellow and orange and red streaking the seabed. Her eyes closing so slowly.
“My wife’s name was Kay. Janelle Kay. I guess I shy away from it.”
“Oh, my God!” Thomas’s hand went to her mouth. “I didn’t even know you were married, Dane.”
“She died on a dive in the Caribbean,” he said, trying to not relive it.
Her hand left her mouth and gripped his left forearm. “I’m so sorry, Dane. Sorry I brought it up, too.”
“I guess I assume that people know my history,” he said. “But Okey’s probably the only one who does. He doesn’t talk about it, and I’ve never felt a need to do so.”
The ship heeled to port a few degrees, and Brande took one step closer to her before he regained his balance.
“If I can be candid,” Thomas said, “that’s one thing that’s bothered me about you. About MVU.”
“What’s that?”
“You seem so open with everybody, and you’re usually in good humor. Everyone adores you. And yet, no one here really knows you. It makes you less…human, somehow. To me, anyway.”
Brande had to think about that for a little bit. It was probably true.
“I’m not trying to be critical,” she said.
He detected a whiff of her perfume. A trace of bougainvillea.
“Maybe Iʼm just programmed?” he told her. “Like Atlas?ˮ
“You’re sloughing it off.” Her other hand came up to grasp his upper arm. “But, Iʼll give up prying. I don’t want to be a snoop, and I don’t mean to be overly critical.”
“That’s okay. The president should know her people.”
“Even the boss?”
“Why not?”
Brande freed his arm, put it around her shoulders, and gave her a hug. He felt a trifle awkward doing it. He had never been the touchy type.
Then he turned back toward the door and reached out for the handle.
Looked up.
Connie Alvarez-Sorenson was standing on the port wing, looking down at them. She winked.
“Well,” Thomas said, “I can forget about Okey. There’s one mouth that’s difficult to control.”
“Your government fully expects that you will provide them with the latest data as it becomes available to you,” Mr. Sato said.