“How’re things in sonar?” Brodie asked her after receiving Graves’ and Ski’s reports.
“Two of three port side passive arrays are off line, plus Martinez’s head went halfway through the class stack. Technicians are working to repair all damage as we speak, but the port arrays aren’t looking too promising at the moment, Captain,” Kristen reported, keeping it all business.
“Good job on the Akula,” Graves offered with an approving nod.
“He was good, sir,” she replied. “Plus I had a lot of help.” Kristen didn’t feel responsible for anything. A combination of factors had decided the fight with the Akula, and she certainly wasn’t the only cause of the hard fought victory. “Excuse me, Captain. I was hoping to go to sickbay and check on Chief Miller and Martinez.”
Brodie’s expression was unreadable. As impassive as ever. His eyes were cold and without any hint of emotion. But when Brodie didn’t answer her question, Kristen realized why. She looked at the XO with a questioning eye.
Graves’ expression was somber.
“No,” she whispered desperately.
“Doc Reed pronounced Chief Miller dead a few minutes after he got to sickbay, Lieutenant,” Graves explained sadly.
Kristen was rocked by the news. She looked at Brodie and saw, barely contained by the mask of command, something she’d yet to see in his eyes. He was trying to hide it, but there was profound pain there. “Sir?”
“Petty Officer Gibbs,” Brodie said in a barely audible tone.
Kristen felt her insides twist painfully. “No,” she whispered.
Brodie replied with a steady gaze but said no more. She knew Brodie and Gibbs were close, but as the captain, he couldn’t afford any emotion at the moment. Everyone was counting on him to keep them safe.
Graves explained, “He was in engineering when the torpedo detonated.”
Ski looked pretty broken up about it as he added, “A steam pressure line ruptured. To reach the shut off valve, someone had to go through the rushing steam.” Kristen didn’t have to hear more. The steam lines contained high-pressure steam at over a thousand degrees. No one could survive it. “He didn’t even hesitate,” Ski said, choking up.
Kristen forced down the emotions, remembering how — when she’d first come on board — it had been Gibbs who’d gone the extra mile to make her feel welcome. Now he was gone.
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” Brodie offered with a tightly controlled voice.
Kristen looked at them. Ski was almost crying. Graves was shaking his head in grief, but Brodie was a rock. Or perhaps he was to the others, but she knew it was all an act. He was grieving as much as, if not more than, anyone. Kristen recognized what he was doing, and knew she had to do it, too. She had to force the grief, the pain, and the sorrow down deep until the crisis was over. Fortunately, she had some experience with burying her pain.
Kristen took a deep, steadying breath and slowly exhaled, forcing the memories of Gibbs aside for the moment. “Sir, with your permission, I’d still like to check on Petty Officer Martinez.”
Brodie nodded. “We’re relaxing Zebra and going to Yoke so everyone can get some grub. Make sure you stop by the galley. We’ll need you fresh and alert if another Akula comes after us.”
Ski cut in bitterly, “Which will certainly happen. Everyone within a thousand miles must know we’re here by now.”
There could be no doubt about this assessment from the Chief Engineer. The Iranians would know for certain about the loss of their frigate and quite probably the loss of their Kilo submarines. As for the Akula, if it was under Russian control — which no one on the Seawolf knew for certain — it would have some sort of distress beacon similar to the BST-1 Buoy employed by US submarines. So, it was only a matter of time before the surrounding water filled with search and rescue craft, and other predators looking to settle the score with the Seawolf.
Kristen went directly to sickbay. As she walked, she suppressed the guilt she felt for not having helped Miller when he’d collapsed in the sonar shack. She knew CPR; she might have been able to save him, but she’d coldly ordered him taken away and returned to her duty. The pain of losing Gibbs was far harder to suppress. He’d been a friend, certainly the closest one she’d had on the Seawolf, yet she knew almost nothing about him. Brodie knew everything about everyone on board, yet her frosty exterior automatically meant she kept people at a distance.
She entered sickbay and found about half a dozen men there. Most had already been treated, and a few were ready to return to duty. The majority of injuries were minor lacerations, a couple of broken bones, and one man with minor electrical burns to a hand.
“Are you injured, Lieutenant?” Reed asked as he glanced up from a laceration he was sewing closed.
“No,” she replied. “I wanted to check on Martinez and….” She glanced over at a table and saw the bulk of Chief Miller’s body lying on it. A sheet covered his head and most of his body, but his lower legs and shoes were still visible. Then she saw a body bag lying on the deck.
“Doc says I’m okay, Miss,” Martinez told her from where he was lying in a bunk. There were several cuts on his face and head that had already been sutured. “He said I’m lucky I’ve got a hard head.”
Kristen hardly heard him as her eyes focused on the body bag. She swallowed the grief still threatening to overwhelm her, and stepped over to Martinez’s bunk to visit with him for a moment while trying not to think of Gibbs or Miller any longer. Kristen finished visiting with Martinez and left him with, “You just take it easy, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She then walked over to a cabinet and silently removed a second sheet. While the others watched in silence, she completed covering Miller up.
“Sorry, ma’am,” Reed offered. “There was nothing we could do.”
Kristen said no more. Instead, she just nodded solemnly.
“I’m really sorry, ma’am,” Reed repeated.
Kristen paused, knowing Reed was probably feeling guilty, too. She looked at him, knowing it wasn’t his fault. “Me too, Doc,” she admitted. “Me, too.”
Then came the hard part; she turned and knelt down beside the body bag. She steeled her nerves, knowing that Gibbs’ body wouldn’t be pretty. The images would be seared into her psyche forever if she opened the bag, but her friend deserved no less. With the others watching, she unzipped the bag to look upon him a final time. High-pressure steam burns weren’t pretty to look at. She tensed her stomach to swallow a bitter cry as she looked upon Gibbs’ horribly burned face.
“He didn’t suffer long, ma’am,” Reed offered, as if that might lessen her pain.
Kristen didn’t respond; instead, she silently zipped the bag closed and walked out.
Chapter Twenty Three
Captain Ahadi was in the tiny wardroom looking over the latest reports on crew efficiency. They’d come a long way since he and his men had come on board, and he was growing more confident in his crew’s ability. Soon, they would be able to take over from their Russian counterparts permanently, and it couldn’t happen soon enough for Ahadi.
“Your tracking parties are still too slow,” Captain Zuyev said bluntly as smoke rose from the cigarette in his hand. “They need more battle drills.”
Ahadi knew his men still needed more training and didn’t like Zuyev pointing it out. But he nodded, knowing that if the Americans forced their way through the Strait of Hormuz, then he and his men would get plenty of real-world experience. He was, of course, aware of the Iranian seizure of the Musandam Peninsula, and he fully supported it. His only regret was that his orders precluded him participating in the struggle. Whereas the rest of the Islamic Republic’s naval forces were guarding the Strait and the vital supply lane between Iran and the troops on the Peninsula, the Borei’s orders were to hide in the Gulf to serve as a deterrent against any attempt by the Zionist powers to break through the cordon guarding the Strait.