“Hopefully I won’t have to,” she answered, but felt a small tug on her leg.
Charlotte, plush owl in tow, looked up at her. “You didn’t come back. I almost fell asleep,” she complained.
Jerry laughed and scooped her up. He announced, “Group hug!”
After a collective squeeze, Emily stepped back. “Well, it’s definitely your turn to read to Carly tonight. I’ll let you explain where you are going and how long it will be.”
“To a four-year-old? I’ll do my best,” he said bravely. “The driver is due any time. Please tell him to stand by. I’ll read Goodnight Moon to her at least twice.”
12
WORKING AGREEMENT
Lieutenant Commander Joshua Segerson came awake to violent shaking. He couldn’t imagine the source, since they were in dry dock, but the possibilities brought him wide awake instantly. Then the light suddenly came on in the stateroom. Blinking, he saw Petty Officer Bailey stepping back. “Sorry, XO,” she apologized. “You weren’t answering your phone, and the quarterdeck just got a call from the skipper. He’s inbound, ETA about fifteen minutes.”
Rubbing his face as he sat up, the XO answered, “All right, Tiff. Thank you.”
Segerson glanced at the clock, squinted, and took a moment to put his glasses on. It still read 4:20 in the morning. It was going to be a very long day, but the captain had been summoned to Washington in one hell of a hurry. Evidently, he was coming back the same way. That meant there might be news, which would be welcome.
Segerson dressed and washed up quickly. It wasn’t mandatory that he meet the skipper as he came aboard, but it was his policy. He was out of his stateroom in ten minutes, and threaded his way aft toward the forward escape trunk.
It was cool but clammy as he came topside and crossed the brow to the side of the graving dock. Jimmy Carter’s massive hull was lit by hundreds of work lights on the sides of the dock. More lights clustered around the quarterdeck shack. Ensign Truitt, the duty officer, saluted as the XO approached. “Skipper should be here any time, sir.”
After the XO returned the salute, Truitt asked, “Sir, do you think he’ll finally have some word on what the f— I mean, what we’re supposed to be doing?”
“I’m hopeful, Jim. If we do get word, is your division ready?”
“Twelve hours’ notice, sir. We’ve gotten a lot of stuff done. I’ve scheduled training today for…” He stopped as a pair of headlights appeared. They turned off as the car got closer, and Segerson saw CDR Weiss get out, accompanied by a fortyish man in civilian clothes.
The watch took care of their luggage while Weiss introduced Dr. Daniel Cavanaugh to the XO. The skipper’s explanation that the civilian was a “subject matter expert” did nothing to satisfy Segerson’s curiosity, but he understood the skipper would tell him what he could, when he could.
The three went aboard and down the escape trunk, then forward. Weiss led the way, then Cavanaugh, following clumsily, and Segerson in trail to keep the newcomer from making a wrong turn. Reluctant to slow down the two submariners, Cavanaugh tried to move too quickly at first, and paid for it by connecting solidly with a valve at shin level, then collected what had to be a bruised shoulder from a junction box. The second hit was enough to make him slow down and look carefully before taking each step.
When they reached officer’s country, Weiss disappeared into his stateroom, while Segerson helped the civilian get settled in the XO’s cabin next door. This involved moving stacks of papers off the extra upper bunk while Cavanaugh unpacked. Segerson mixed instructions about life on the sub with general questions. The civilian seemed pleasant enough. The last thing Segerson needed was a finicky or abrasive roommate.
Weiss rapped on the open door, and simply said, “When you can, XO,” then went back in his stateroom. After making sure that Cavanaugh knew where everything was, including the head between their stateroom and the CO’s, Segerson closed his door, took three steps, and knocked lightly on the captain’s stateroom door.
He heard “Enter,” and then as he came in, “Close the door.” Weiss motioned to an empty chair. As the XO sat, the captain announced, “We’re getting underway tonight. There’s a six-hour window when there are no Russian or Chinese imagery satellites overhead. They’ll begin flooding the dock at 2115 tonight, and not a moment before. The shipyard will recover the dock, and pump it back down after we leave. If we do it smoothly, we’ll be gone with no one the wiser.”
Segerson grasped the plan’s intent instantly. “How long does the deception have to last?”
“As long as possible,” Weiss answered. “A week would be nice, two would be ideal.”
The XO nodded his understanding and Weiss continued, “The crew will find out about the destination after we’re underway. It’s close enough to reveille now that we’ll give all hands the word about the sailing at officer’s call and quarters. Make sure everyone hears two things: when everyone is to be onboard, and that nobody outside this graving dock should know we’ve left. Nobody talks to anyone outside EB, no social media, no phone calls home, no e-mails, no nothing. The rest of the world needs to believe we are still high and dry in this dock.”
Weiss handed his XO an envelope. “This is where we’re going and what we’ll do when we get there. For the moment, just concentrate on getting us headed in the right direction.”
He gestured toward the XO stateroom. “Dr. Cavanaugh is completely briefed about our mission, so we can speak freely around him. I’ll give you the details about his role later.”
Segerson nodded. “Aye, aye, sir.” He didn’t know where they were going, but knowing they were going somewhere lifted his spirits. He was impatient to look at the material the captain had given him, and one part of his mind was already trying to remember where the tide would be late tonight.
“There’s one more thing, XO.” Weiss’s tone remained serious, almost grim. “Commodore Mitchell has been assigned as mission commander. He’s en route, and will arrive sometime this morning.”
The XO stifled his first reaction, an incredulous “What?” but really couldn’t think of what to say. There was a small chance he’d misunderstood the skipper, and he asked, “COMDEVRON Five is going with us?”
“Yes,” Weiss replied, then explained. “This mission is huge, Josh. I was briefed with President Hardy sitting next to me. He’s the one who decided Mitchell should be in charge.”
Segerson’s mind followed several tracks at once. The first thought to leave the station was Where the hell are we going? Pulling out shortly after that was He couldn’t say “No” to the Big Skipper. Finally, This sucks brought up the rear.
Lieutenant Commander Joshua Segerson had been aboard longer than Weiss, and comparing his current skipper with CDR Prindell, the last captain, he’d already decided that Weiss was the better officer, and the better leader. Prindell had been competent, methodical, and easy to work for. Just do whatever the book said. But he’d been cautious, and a little withdrawn. Weiss was outgoing, wanting to know everything, and had nerves of steel. He wasn’t reckless, but on the last two patrols he’d shown a keen ability to know when to take risks, and then ride out the results, good or bad.