Shaughnessy nodded. Of all the disasters they could face on board the carrier, a flight deck fire was one of the worst, second only to a fire in main Engineering. Uncontrolled, the flames could quickly engulf parked aircraft, weapons waiting to be uploaded onto wings, as well as the fuel outlets. In a matter of moments, a conflagration could destroy the entire fighting capability of an aircraft carrier. It had happened before.
“Let’s get suited up.” Shaughnessy took the lead as they darted toward their damage-control compartment. They joined a crowd of sailors thronging around it, struggling into asbestos-proofed fire-fighting ensembles, manning sound-powered phones, and generally gearing up for battle. It was the standard precaution. Even though there was no sign of fire now on the flight deck, there was no telling what damage the explosion had done belowand how it would spread.
Shaughnessy slipped the ensemble hood over her head, and the clear-tempered glass face mask immediately started fogging up. That was one of the worst parts about being suited up. While the gear provided excellent protection against most of the conditions a fire-fighting team would expect to encounter, the heat inside it quickly rose to a stifling temperature.
“Not yet,” the damage-control-party leader said, motioning to Shaughnessy. “Stand by, thoughso far it looks like all we’ve got is structural damage.”
Shaughnessy gratefully took off the hood and took a deep breath of the fresh air. “What happened?”
Mike turned to her. “You were right down the passageway from it, weren’t you?”
“Are you hurt?” the damage-control-party leader asked. He assessed her carefully. “Big raw gash on your foreheadwhat else?”
“I’m fine.” Shaughnessy shook her head, aware of the ache that was already spreading down her back. “Knocked me around a little bit, but that’s all.”
“Well.” The damage-control-party leader dropped the matter, relying on her assessment of her own condition.
“But what happened?” Mike demanded again.
“I don’t know. I’d just passed an admiral in the passagewaySixth Fleet, actuallyand I was headed for the line shack. Then there was this big noise, and a flash. I must have hit the damage-control gear mounted on the bulkhead.”
She shook her head, remembering just how fast it had gone.
There hadn’t been time to react, not even time to be afraid. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. “The admiralwhat happened to him?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see anyone else in the passageway, but it was dark too.” Mike shrugged, and touched her gently on the back of the head. “Repair 2 will be on it. If he’s there, they’ll find him.”
Shaughnessy nodded slowly. It wasn’t her problem, not right now.
Still, Admiral Magruder had been in command of her carrier battle group during her last cruise. He seemed like a good guy, as admirals went. Be a shame if something happened to him.
“What was the explosion?” she asked. “There’s nothing in that part of the ship that could detonate like that.”
Mike shrugged. “You’re right about that.”
An uneasy feeling wormed its way into Shaughnessy’s gut. Disaster was possible in any part of the carriershe knew that. The entire structure was honeycombed with electrical lines, fuel lines, and myriad other conduits. There was nowhere that was entirely safe, not even the flag passageway.
But a fire in that area of the ship would more likely be electrical in nature, not explosive. Smoldering circuits, the stench of burning insulationthat was what she would have expected to find if she had been dispatched as primary investigator during a disaster. Not explosives. It was almost as though-
“You don’t think somebody could have planted a bomb on the ship, do you?” she said, hearing just how very terrifying the words sounded even as she said them. “Not a bomb.”
“Team Leader, Investigator.” The point man on the fire team crouched down low in the passageway over the crumpled form. “One casualtysend a corpsman up ASAP.”
“Investigator, Team Leader. Interrogative conditions in your area? The corpsmancan he make it up there?”
The investigator assessed the condition of the passageway. The bulkheads were charred and black smoke still boiled and eddied about him.
Still, there were no signs of an actual fire. Not yet. That was his role on the damage-control team, to be the first in, to report back to the team leader, who could then decide how to dispatch his fire parties and desmoking teams.
“Put him in a suit, but I don’t see any flames around. And get the desmoking teams on thisthat looks to be the main problem right now.”
“Roger.”
The investigator knelt down by the body and ran his hands gently over it. There were no obvious signs of damage other than unconsciousnessit could be that the victim had simply been overcome by the smoke. But the position he was lying in indicated that he hadn’t dropped gently to the deck.
The investigator glanced down the passageway, trying to locate the original source of the explosion. It couldn’t be too far, and there was every chance that this casualty had been caught in the immediate vicinity of it. No, better not to move himlet the corpsman take a look at him first. If he had hit the wall, maybe slid down from there, he could have fractured his neck or his back. To move him now would be to risk permanent paralysis.
Leaning over him to look at the other side of the man’s uniform, the investigator checked for a name. It was one of the things he would want to report immediately to the team leader, to answer questions about why the injured sailor hadn’t shown up at his General Quarters station.
As his eyes lit on the collar, the investigator sucked in a hard breath. Stars. He brought his portable radio back up to his mouth. “Team Leader, I’ve identified the casualty. It’s Admiral Magruder.”
“The admiral? Are you certain?”
“Unless you know somebody else on board who’s got three stars on his collar, that’s who it is.”
“Roger. The corpsman is on the way.”
The investigator stayed with Admiral Magruder until two other team members showed up accompanying the corpsman. He left the admiral in their care, and proceeded on down the passageway to complete his preliminary examination.
Near the admiral’s quarters, the nonstructural bulkheads were twisted and warped. The smoke was thicker, and the scent of it seeped in under his ensemble hood. He pulled it down tighter, breathing out a heavy breath to clear it out.
Around the corner now, easy, don’t be getting in a rush. It looks like this is whereyes. The investigator picked up his radio for a third time. “Team Leader, in Compartment…”
He glanced up at the overhead and reeled off a series of figures from the barely legible brass plaque. “I have a possible Class Alpha fire.”
The investigator could hear the feet, the noises of a fire team moving as quickly as they could in their cumbersome gear. The hose slithered across the deck, clunking as the metal joints between sections scraped over the knee-knockers. A few moments later, he saw the lead hoseman materialize out of the smoke.
The investigator stepped back and let the rest of the damage-control team have complete access to the area.
Not a bad onenot as fires go. From the looks of it, most of the damage was done by the initial explosion. Just some residual fireshould be easy to extinguish.
The investigator left the scene and began circling through the adjoining compartments, checking for where the fire might have spread.
Another investigator was also checking the decks immediately above and below, although Repair 8 would have primary responsibility for any damage on the flight deck. Still, it never hurt to double-check. Fire had a way of doing that aboard a ship, creeping along through empty spaces and between decks, getting out of hand before a fire party really knew what was happening.