Walcott didn’t look too certain, at least not as confident as Brodie, who looked quite convinced of the viability of the plan. “Any questions?” Brodie asked the assembled officers.
Kristen shot a warning glance at Martin who was still standing quietly to the side, but he said nothing.
“How certain are you there aren’t any mines floating free and drifting into the lanes?” Walcott asked her.
Kristen was leaning against the table, feeling the full weight of responsibility for all their lives, not to mention the three billion dollar boat, on her shoulders. She swiped a wayward lock of hair from her eyes and shook her head. “The drones didn’t detect any, but…” she wanted to sound more positive, but the reality was she couldn’t be certain.
“We go,” Brodie said simply, ending the discussion. She felt a tingling sensation course through her body as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Good work, Lieutenant,” he said simply and patted her on the shoulder. She’d seen him do this to several men since coming on board. It was his way of rewarding good work, and she knew it should mean nothing more to her than that. He removed his hand. “All right, let’s get to it.”
The decision having been made, the officers headed for the doorway leading out of the wardroom. Kristen watched them file out, feeling almost numb with fatigue and emotionally spent. She slipped her glasses into a pocket as she watched Brodie walk toward the door, wishing she had the courage to stop him. Within an hour they would be in the minefield, and then — if they were only slightly off course — their small steel world would be crushed with a single blast. Martin, although panicky and possibly losing what little self-control he had left, was right. What Brodie was planning was dangerous and could, quite possibly, kill them all.
Brief thoughts of Gibbs and Miller entered her mind, followed by the words Patricia had said to her. Kristen had sacrificed everything to reach this point, and the possibility that it hadn’t been worth the sacrifice was haunting her. Additionally, physical and mental fatigue were taking their toll, preventing her usually disciplined mind from keeping her wayward thoughts in check.
“Captain?” Kristen heard herself call to him and immediately regretted it as he turned toward her. He paused just inside the wardroom. The other officers continued on.
“Yes, Lieutenant?” he asked, his eyes not quite as hard as they’d been a few moments earlier when he made the decision on the path through the minefield.
She stared at him dumbly, her mind racing with contradictory thoughts and conflicting feelings. She had to tell him. She wanted to tell him. But this was hardly the time or the place.
But if not now, when? He himself had told them there were no more tomorrows.
She stood on her trembling knees but just shook her head. “Nothing, sir. It’s nothing.”
But he didn’t walk off. He didn’t turn and walk away, leaving her alone to curse her weakness. Instead, he asked, “Are you all right, Kris?”
She felt his eyes upon her. She couldn’t imagine him not seeing what had to be plainly visible on her face. How many times had those eyes looked right through her? How many nights had she seen those eyes in her dreams? Fatigue and stress had combined to weaken any emotional control she had, and she was certain her feelings were evident. Was he toying with her? Was this his idea of some sort of cruel game?
“It’s nothing, sir,” she insisted. “I’m just a bit punchy,” she lied, looking away from him and then added, “I’d better get back to sonar.”
They were in the wardroom and all alone. She could tell him and be done with it. They were about to enter a minefield. She had the courage to do that, but she couldn’t summon the courage to tell him what she was feeling. Instead, she stepped past him and kept walking, terrified he might stop her and ask her what was really on her mind. At the same time, another part of her was afraid he would just let her go.
Chapter Twenty Five
“Here we go,” Fabrini whispered.
In the cramped sonar room, every eye was turned to the MIDAS alarm. It would be their only warning before disaster if a mine happened to be floating loose, or if the Seawolf drifted outside the carefully prescribed course. No one had to remind any of them that what they were attempting had never been done before. Certainly not in a submarine the size of the Seawolf. There was no room for error.
The crew was at general quarters with every watertight hatch sealed in the event of disaster. But no one really believed this would save them if they hit a mine. It was simply one of the few precautions they could take. Kristen stood with Fabrini behind the sonar operators who would be virtually useless during the transit through the meager lane in the minefield. Above their heads, the squawk box was turned on so they could hear every word coming in from the control room and vice versa.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Greenberg whispered anxiously from his seat at the narrowband stack.
“Just stay sharp,” Kristen offered, wishing she were more confident.
Brodie was taking an awful risk. Once they entered the minefield there was no turning back. The lane they were going to try and pass through was sixteen miles long, but so narrow it would be impossible to turn around once committed. If even one mine had come loose and drifted in front of them, the Seawolf would be crippled at best.
Fabrini and Kristen watched the painstakingly slow progress of the Seawolf through the channel on the tactical display, their eyes and ears never far from the MIDAS alarm.
Fatigue, or at least the burning desire to sleep, left her as she focused on the tactical display. After nearly thirty minutes, the Seawolf reached the first turn, and Kristen found her left hand gripping an overhead pipe firmly, as if waiting for a sudden blast. She watched the display as the Seawolf turned slowly, staying in the exact center of the narrow channel. She felt something moving against her right leg and looked down to see her right hand trembling slightly. She shoved it into her pocket, tightening her hand into a fist.
Not now, damn you!
The whine of the MIDAS alarm nearly caused her to come out of her skin.
“MIDAS Alert! Mine bearing zero-one-five,” Kristen and Fabrini said almost in unison. She heard Brodie make a quick course change. The Seawolf turned slightly to port to avoid the mine and then, as they passed to the left of the errant mine, they resumed their base course. Everyone was now riveted to the alarm panel, expecting it to sound again at any moment. Where there was one mine out of position, there would be more.
But as the Seawolf continued on, the alarm stayed silent. After another eighteen minutes precisely, with everyone on board listening nervously to the sounds outside the submarine, the Seawolf made another turn and set up for the narrowest portion of the entire run through the minefield. The massive field was not one field at all, but dozens of smaller individual fields set seemingly at random with no rhyme or reason. In places there were gaps of nearly a mile between some mines, and in others they were almost on top of one another.
The Seawolf lined up to make a run between two of the random fields less than seventy yards apart. The narrow passage between them was nearly half a mile long, and at their current four knot speed they would take eight long minutes to slip through the gap.
Kristen felt sweat trickling down the small of her back, and she wiped some from her forehead as she reached up and gripped another overhead pipe. Around her, the others were holding on tight. The air in the small space — already stale — suddenly felt so thick with tension it was hard to draw a breath. The feeling that imminent death was at hand was like a great crushing weight. Kristen felt her right hand trembling in her pocket, and she closed her fist tight again, willing herself to hide her fear.