“Yes, Skipper, I understand.”
Thorne smiled and then turned away. He picked up a phone outside the aft torpedo room after he heard his engineering officer ask for him.
“Thorne.”
“Reactors are breathing again, Captain,” reported the reactor officer.
Before Thorne could answer, he heard the main ventilators kick in. He felt the cool air and closed his eyes. He then heard the washing machines in a far-off compartment start up and a loud cheer erupted throughout the boat. He opened his eyes at the sound of cheering, and then he winked at XO Devers. One of his biggest worries was the horrible thought that after both his reactors had scrammed, they wouldn’t be able to get them back up. He felt the relief flood through him just as the main lighting came blaring to full life.
Devers watched as Thorne lowered the phone without saying anything further to the reactor officer. He eased the phone from Thorne’s hand.
“Well done, Lieutenant. Now let’s see if we can get ballast control back up. One step at a time, boys. One step at a time.” He reached out and hung up the phone. He saw Thorne was still holding his head down, and the first officer knew his captain was relieving himself of some of the doubts that had crept into his thinking. He saw his shoulders slump and knew he was trying to control his emotions. He patted the captain on the back and moved forward without him.
“To all crew members. The movie tonight will be Poseidon starring Kurt Russell. All personnel off duty may attend.”
Devers heard the crew give out a cheer. He knew it was just an announcement, but it was a normal announcement. And that was good.
USS Houston was not only breathing once again — it was starting to come back to life.
11
The motor launch ferrying Captain Kreshenko and his first officer over to the Simbirsk rode lightly over the small swells of ocean. Sailors from Shiloh lined her rails after transferring freshwater to the old Russian cruiser to see the great warship up close. Her missile launchers gleamed in the late afternoon sunlight. She was prickled with defensive armaments that looked far more operational than their own. They watched as the Russian sailor tossed one of the Americans a line until Kreshenko and Dishlakov could hop from the whaleboat to the gangway. They were met at the top by Colonel Salkukoff. The three men saluted, and then the colonel gestured for them to follow. Introductions were made, and then the inevitable confrontation between warring sea captains reared its ugly head. Johnson refused to salute the Russian captain.
“What gave you the right to fire upon my ships and aircraft?” Johnson asked angrily.
“The right of any captain to defend his territory, and this ship is Russian territory.” Kreshenko gave Captain Johnson a wide berth.
“That subject will remain closed for the moment, gentlemen. We’re here to find out if we can get these sailors home without killing everyone.”
All eyes went to Jack Collins. Of the eleven men standing at the fantail, it was Kreshenko who looked perplexed.
“What do you mean?” he asked Salkukoff in Russian. The quick exchange registered with everyone when the color drained from Kreshenko’s features. He leaned against the steel cable that wound around the Simbirsk. He looked to be in shock.
Jack took this time to face Captain Johnson. “Look, I know you are angry, Captain. But I need cooperation from these men. Until I get it, you will cease trying to pick a fight that we cannot win at the moment. Besides, you’re accusing the wrong man of firing on your assets. The man you want, the one who gave orders, is that man right there.”
Johnson saw that Collins was pointing at Salkukoff. Johnson grimaced, but he quickly relented and just nodded.
As the group settled in once again around the table, it was Jack who tried to calm things down and bring the men leading this insanity to some form of compromise. He specifically looked at Henri Farbeaux. He had not said much since meeting Salkukoff in person, and Jack knew that not knowing what was on in the Frenchman’s mind usually led to major trouble.
“Captain, welcome aboard. While we can argue rights of salvage forever, I believe the problem at hand should take precedence.”
There were nods around the table, but mostly from the American contingent. The Russians placed poker faces on their countenances.
“Captain, I am proud to say that Master Chief Jenks, Captain Everett, Mr. Ryan, and I served with your half brother during the Overlord operation.”
Captain Kreshenko stood and nodded toward Jack and then simply sat down.
“Before we get into our mutual problem, we have to discuss the defensive posture while we are in this situation. Captain, may I assume you are having the same difficulties as ourselves in regard to the EMP invasion of our integrated systems?”
Kreshenko looked at Salkukoff, who gestured that he should answer the question.
“Yes, all defensive and offensive missile weapons systems are down. We don’t have the necessary replacement boards in ship’s stores. Like your Shiloh, we have only close-in weapons. Basically, small arms.”
“Thank you, Captain, for being honest. As you may have heard, we are in the same boat, no pun intended.”
Kreshenko looked at Salkukoff, and he said that the small pun was nothing to even think about. It seemed the American sense of humor evaded the Russian captain.
“We currently have both weapons officers from Peter the Great and Shiloh evaluating the sixteen-inch gun system aboard Simbirsk. They seem to think those big guns might do us more harm than good if we attempt to fire them. They’ll keep going on their evaluations until they are told otherwise.”
“Captain Johnson, with your command boards for the Aegis system down, do you still have drone capability?” Jack asked, trying to get Johnson back on track as far as cooperation went.
“We had to change out transmitter boards on the Raytheon drone. We cannibalized three personal cell phones and a navy satellite phone, but she’ll be up and running within the hour.”
“Good. We’ll need it. I want that island scouted.” Jack turned to Salkukoff. “Colonel, now that we know that weapons-grade uranium was used in the process for the phase shift experiment, how safe is it for my people and yours to be working around it?”
“I would think at this point safety is the least of our concerns. Are not all hands expendable in this endeavor?”
Most faces registered shock around the makeshift conference table. Jack remained standing while facing down this cold-blooded man he knew was not hesitant to kill or maim those in his way. Jack leaned forward with his hands planted firmly upon the tabletop.
“Let me make this clear to you, Coloneclass="underline" where we come from, no one is expendable. You may blame politicians or think-tank generals, but never assume a field commander will ever give up the life of his people willingly. I repeat, there are no expendables on this or any ship here.”
Salkukoff just smiled. He nodded at Jack, and the colonel felt the Russian was merely mocking him. If truth be told, he felt like shooting the bastard right in front of everyone.
“Radar. Both Peter the Great and Shiloh. Gentlemen, not knowing what’s out here can kill us all. Besides the drone, we need an early warning system up and running. Captains, make that a priority.” He faced Captain Kreshenko and his first officer, Dishlakov. “Captain, right now, we have to throw off any animosity we may have toward each other. If we cease our cooperation, none of our men, mine or yours, will ever see home again. For most of us around this table, that may not affect too many lives. But we all have kids out there who do have families, who do love their children, and they want to get home. They don’t want to get into a pissing contest. That stuff is for the real world, not this one.”