Kreshenko looked at Dishlakov. Barely understanding the language, he raised his brows in question.
“He means we don’t need to see who has the biggest muscles,” Charlie said, clarifying the “pissing contest” comment.
Jack was just getting ready to get people back to work when again alarm bells started to sound, and men started running to prepositioned action stations aboard Simbirsk.
“Watercraft coming in from the south!” an American lookout from Shiloh shouted.
Jack and the others went to the railing. Carl handed Collins a pair of field glasses.
“Where away?” Carl called out as he raised his own glasses to his eyes.
“Ten points off the stern,” a Russian sailor called out.
Jack had trouble finding them. Then Everett nudged Jack. “To the right, coming right at us.”
Collins adjusted his view, and there they were.
“Holy shit,” Ellenshaw said as he became excited and wrested the binoculars from Master Chief Jenks, who scowled.
“Look at them all,” Captain Kreshenko said aloud. “Amazing. It’s as though we are in the South Pacific.”
Seven hundred yards away, riding low in the water, the reason for them to get so close without the lookouts seeing them, were at least a hundred small boats. Some were larger than others, but most were no more than thirty-five feet long. They had sails and outriggers, the sort used by fishermen all around the world. The sails were brightly colored in flashes of orange, blue, and yellow. The larger of these boats rode in the center of the teeming mass. The smaller boats surrounded the larger in a protective cocoon.
“Count?” Jack asked as he scanned the insides of the boats for the first time.
“I have one hundred and twelve small boats and six large. No armaments visible,” Everett called out.
“I have the same count,” said Dishlakov.
Charlie was aghast. “Armaments?” He quickly moved away from the railing and faced Jack. “Colonel, it’s obvious that these people are fishermen. These people are like the Jundiai fishermen in the Galapagos Islands. They use the larger boats for hauling the smaller boats’ catches. That’s all. Colonel, do these people no harm.”
“Calm down, Charlie,” Collins said as he centered his glasses on the largest, middle boat.
“My God. Look at their skin color,” Dishlakov said.
Collins focused and saw that the skin color was perfectly white. The people were small, maybe five foot or a little more, and their hair was blond. As the boats came closer, the men on the Simbirsk could see the newcomers’ curiosity was as great as their own. Heads moved, popped up, and they jabbered, but they soon calmed as they came alongside Simbirsk.
The fishermen came close, but their sails remained unfurled, and they slowly started to slide past the giant warship.
“Mud — they use it to protect their skin from the sun and sea. That’s why they’re white skinned.” Charlie turned to Jack and Carl with a large smile on his face. “They’re almost prehistoric. This is amazing!”
Several of the officers lining the railing stepped back when they heard Ellenshaw’s words of excitement. They all had the same smiles and inquisitive looks on their faces as they watched the strange, thin, white-haired man dance a jig. Jack couldn’t help it; he smiled at Everett. Charlie was in his element. He lost his smile when Charlie started waving his hands in greeting.
Jack watched the first of the boats slide past. The small fishermen of the largest boat just looked up at them, less excited to see the strangers than they were to see them. As Collins watched on, the small man standing at the front of his boat — Collins could see that this was their leader — simply watched the strangers in their high perch on board Simbirsk. The thin, bearded man looked up, and their eyes met. Still the boats silently slid by. All eyes of this indigenous people looked up with what could only be described as mild curiosity. They saw the large men looking down on them as they sailed past with their massive haul of fish, but the strangers held no more interest to them than a large log in the water would in regard to their safely navigating their way.
Charlie became quiet as the last of the boats slid by and toward the island five miles away.
“What is it, Charlie?” Jack asked.
“The fish inside the larger of the boats. I didn’t recognize any species. Of course, I was not as close as I would have liked to have been. Still, I failed to recognize any of those fish.”
“Captain, what do you say we get that drone in the air and see what our fishermen are up to on that island?”
Johnson nodded and left.
Jack’s eyes then went to Colonel Salkukoff. The man was just watching the fishing fleet as they became smaller as they went home. His eyes finally looked up, and he saw the American looking at him. The Russian held the look momentarily, and then Jack watched him walk away with Captain Kreshenko in tow.
Carl and Farbeaux came up to Jack, and they all watched the Russians walk away.
“Gentlemen, what are your impressions of Captain Kreshenko and his man Dishlakov?”
“Typical Russian Navy,” Carl said as he watched the retreating backs of the Russians.
“There is hatred, or at the very least a stern dislike there, I think,” Farbeaux offered.
“I agree. Kreshenko didn’t fire on Shiloh and her escorts, and he didn’t order us shot down. That order came from Salkukoff, and the Russian captain resents it.”
“Precisely my thoughts,” Farbeaux said.
“Henri, I wasn’t too thrilled with that order MI6 passed on to you. No man should be placed in that situation.” Jack turned and faced the Frenchman. “But that man cannot return with us. I think the world would be a better place without him.”
No more words were said as the announcement was heard coming from Shiloh.
“Prepare to launch drone.”
An hour later, Captain Johnson was throwing a fit. A US Marine guard stood in front of the hatch leading to the combat information center and refused to allow the two Russians inside the extensive and far-reaching advanced electronic center. Pictures and visitors were not ever allowed inside because they could compromise the security of the Aegis combat system. No Russian had ever even seen a drawing of the advanced radar and control apparatus.
“Captain, I will take full responsibility. Make sure none of your Aegis systems are in operation for the duration of their visit. Nothing but dark screens. But they must be allowed inside so they can independently verify what it is the drone will see. We need their trust and cooperation. Master Chief Jenks and their Professor Gervais are pretty close to discovering why that damn phase shift engine keeps coming on by itself. We will eventually need it to turn on when we want it to. For that, we need Gervais. He knows more about the mechanics involved than the master chief.”
“Stand down,” Johnson told the two marines. “I will enter the visit in the ship’s logbook.”
Jack watched the captain open the hatch, and then he and the others went into the most highly secretive compartment in any US Navy vessel — the Aegis Control Room.