Undetected

by Dee Henderson

  Gina would inevitably change in little ways while he was gone. The young cats would fill out into full-grown cats. Even Pongo would have developed past the tendency to stumble over his own feet. Survive refit, get the patrol over with, and get back home. The days he had lived for the joy of command and patrol were slamming into the reality that he would really like to be home with his wife for the next three months rather than be at sea.

  He was still mulling over that shift in his priorities and half dozing when Gina returned, Pongo racing into the room in front of her. The dog was determined to get onto the ottoman before the cats claimed it. Mark smiled at the ambition in the puppy. The cats left his lap to contest the matter. “What were those last three words you said to me?” he asked his wife.

  “Love you too.”

  “Make it the last four words.”

  “I love you too.”

  “Last ten?”

  She chuckled and, with one hand resting on the back of the couch and the other on his shoulder, leaned down to kiss him. “Dinner is about ready.”

  He let her pull him to his feet, slid his arms around her waist. “It’s nice to hear the words. You say them beautifully.” He rested his forehead against hers. “I’d like a real honeymoon after our big wedding. Hawaii maybe, or New York.”

  “Montana.”

  He grinned. “Where did that come from?”

  “I’ve never been, and there’s no water. I have to share you with the sea right now. I’m finding I lean toward being landlocked for the honeymoon.”

  “I’m inclined to accommodate you if you’re serious.”

  “I’ve never ridden a horse.”

  He laughed. “Now the real purpose begins to appear.”

  “You’d look good wearing a cowboy hat.”

  He kissed her. “I’ll ask around for recommendations on Montana.”

  She kissed him back. “I’m so glad I married you, Mark,” she whispered.

  “So am I.”

  The world felt right just then, with no pieces missing. Mark hugged his wife and wondered if this would be the highlight of the year. They were facing their first deployment and separation. If he was lucky, the marriage would be able to absorb the absence and re-stitch itself back together without too much disturbance when he returned. But he had too much experience, both in his own history and with his crew, not to realize a marriage couldn’t absorb this kind of separation without some price being paid. He hoped and prayed Gina was confident enough in the two of them to absorb the doubts and insecurities that would inevitably come. He rested his chin against her hair. “Promise me something, Gina.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t allow the age gap to bother you while I’m on patrol. Don’t let yourself go back to thinking ‘I’m too young for him.’”

  She leaned back, puzzled. “Have I been suggesting it’s a concern?”

  “Confidence is a fragile thing. You have it now, and I don’t want you to lose it. You’re the wife I need. The wife I want. I don’t expect you to be able to handle everything that comes up while I’m gone. Check in with Amy Delheart. Jeff when he’s around. Or Daniel. Don’t let some idea of what a commander’s wife is supposed to be to stop you from asking for help.

  “You’ll have the wives and girlfriends of gold crew calling you, wanting advice about the patrol, the Navy, their relationships, the separation. I want you to feel okay about handing those calls off to Delheart. I want you living the life that fits who you are—days at the TCC, working with the JPL group, traveling back to Chicago if it’s useful—not getting derailed being the commander’s wife, wondering what you signed up for and how you’re supposed to help someone who thinks you have all the answers when you’re practically the same age as they are.”

  She smiled and patted his chest with the flat of her hand. “I’m going to surprise you with how well I manage this patrol. I like being Mrs. Commander Mark Bishop.”

  “I don’t want you to stop liking it, or liking me,” he mentioned.

  She grinned. “As if. Let’s have this conversation again when you get back from patrol, Mark. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

  “I’ll worry anyway. It’s what husbands do.”

  “Well, I’ll try not to worry about you, no matter what. I have every confidence in Nevada gold, and in you.”

  “I’ll be home safe and sound in 90 days,” he said, determined to make those words come true. He leaned down to seal that promise with another kiss. “You can trust me on that.”

  “I do. Now go have your shower, then come eat.”

  24

  Gina’s send-off for the Nevada were caramels she and the wives of the gold crew had made, individually wrapped with a ribbon and note attached for every sailor, each package containing a dozen pieces. Bishop popped his first caramel in his mouth as he scanned the open ocean waters, leaning on the rail high above the sub. Bright blue sky, a clear horizon ahead of him, two Coast Guard cutters on escort, the smell of the ocean and the salt spray, the sun beating down on him—it all made him feel energized and alive.

  “It’s time,” he said to his executive officer.

  His second-in-command nodded. “It’s going to be a good patrol, sir.”

  Bishop took one last glance at the coast behind them. They were leaving a lot of loved ones behind. He’d bring this boat back safe and sound. He looked over at his friend, smiled. “XO, clear the deck.”

  Kingman grinned, nodded. “Clear the deck, aye, sir.” The XO looked up higher into the sail. “Lookouts, below.”

  Bishop stepped over to the hatch and headed down the ladder to command-and-control. He slid his sunglasses into the red case by the captain’s chair, knowing if the world cooperated it would be three months before he wore them again. The windshield was hauled down from the sail, along with the communications gear, and the men on lookout descended. The crew around the center was eager—he could feel it throughout the room—the good tension of being back on a boat at sea, no more refit maintenance, resupply and upkeep. Now it was time to do what they were trained to do: go sailing.

  “Sonar, control. Report all near contacts.”

  “Control, sonar. Surface contacts only. Two Coast Guard cutters, three personal craft, nearest vessel 200 feet off the port side.”

  “Very well.”

  He picked up the phone and called engineering for a report, then phoned the missile bay. Satisfied with their updates, Bishop turned to Kingman. “XO, make our depth 85 feet.”

  “Make our depth 85 feet, aye, Captain.” Kingman turned. “Lieutenant Olson, report on all hatches.”

  “I have a green board, sir. All hatches are secure.”

  The XO picked up the intercom and set it to 1MC. “Dive, dive, dive.” He reached over and flipped the dive alarm switch, the distinct warble sounding throughout the boat. “Dive, dive, dive.” He turned to scan the ballast board. “Helm, make our depth 85 feet.”

  The helmsman opened the valves. The ballast tanks filled with a whoosh. Above them, water washed across the hull and deck.

  The XO checked with officers around the room. “Captain, the boat is tight.”

  “Very well. Come to heading 270, make our depth 300 feet.”

  The XO confirmed the order, turned to the helmsman and planesman to execute it.

  Bishop reached for his notebook and his plan for the first day at sea.

  “Steady on heading 270, depth 300 feet, sir,” Kingman reported minutes later.

  “Very well. XO, let’s find out how the refit did. Angles and dangles at the bottom of the hour.”

  Kingman smiled and confirmed the command. He reached for the intercom. “Nevada, this is the XO. Prepare for angles and dangles.”

  Gina watched a blip on the TCC ocean map move another dot to the west. She could pretend to work with the best of them when it suited her, and it suited her to be sitting at her desk facing into the Tactical Command Center with her feet propped up on the credenza drawer, a pad of paper
in her lap. She was occasionally jotting herself a note because the idea she’d had during the night refused to shut off, but she was mainly watching the ocean board.

  Daniel came in, slid an orchid into the vase on her desk. “From your husband. He wanted a fresh flower always on your desk while he’s on patrol.”

  “A wonderful choice. I miss him, Daniel.”

  “I can tell. You’ve been practically haunting this place.”

  Bishop had been gone 19 days. Even Jeff’s return on the Seawolf hadn’t filled much of the hole she felt. She was glad Daniel was around. The initial awkwardness had passed, their friendship was intact, as solid as it had been when they were dating. She liked the fact she didn’t have to plan out her words with him when she had a thought. “Nevada gold drew the north box for this patrol, didn’t they?”

  “Russia, China, North Korea—the top of the list doesn’t change. Bishop will soon be in the middle of the Pacific with no one around him, if that helps.”

  “It does.” There was a blue square on the Pacific map, marking off the north boomer patrol box. Somewhere in those hundreds of miles of water, the Nevada gold crew and her husband would take station. The area had been swept by two fast-attacks running cross-sonar. The area was clear. He would be as safe as was possible on a nuclear submarine hundreds of feet below the surface of the sea.

  “What are you working on?” Daniel asked.

  She glanced at her notes. “I’d like to be able to predict solar flares, at least the large ones.”

  “Think you can?”

  She shrugged. “JPL has some interesting theories on what triggers them, and I’ve got a few ideas of my own, so maybe. I think it’s magnetics in the core of the sun, rather than a building pressure like with a volcano here on earth, that causes the burst to flare out.”

  “Interesting.” Daniel settled into the guest chair. “Jeff is looking for you.”

  “I got his call. I’m meeting him for dinner. You want to come with us? He wants to bring Tiffany.”

  “A replay of old times,” he commented. “Jeff and the Seawolf are back to sea in 48 hours?”

  She nodded again. “Resupply is about finished. They’ll be making for Japan. Looking at that map, it makes sense. China and Japan are still skirmishing over those islands and the gas fields in the East China Sea. I just wish Jeff wasn’t a fast-attack. They’re likely to have him sit between the two sides like a referee saying ‘Cool it, boys.’”

  Daniel smiled. “Comes with the job,” he said. “What time are you meeting Jeff?”

  “Quarter to six.”

  “I’ll come along,” Daniel agreed.

  Gina said good-night to the security officer who had escorted her home and stepped into the quiet house. Pongo made a dash from the kitchen to meet her, and she knelt to greet him. She missed Mark, more than she had prepared herself for. The nights were the worst. She’d lived alone for years, but it took only months with a husband for her to change so profoundly she struggled to be content on her own anymore. As had become a habit, she curled up on the couch in the living room, pulled out stationery and pen, and wrote him a letter.

  Dear Mark,

  I still haven’t settled on an easy endearment for you like Precious, which you’ve given to me. I wish I did, so these letters would feel more personal. I’m missing you something fierce.

  I went out to dinner with Jeff and Tiffany and Daniel tonight. A last gathering before Jeff heads back to sea. Daniel did his best to get me to laugh, and he’s been faithfully bringing the fresh flowers you asked him to provide for my office. I’m still curious how you got him to accept that assignment, but he’s mum about that last conversation the two of you had before you deployed. As nice as the evening was, I felt a huge hole that you weren’t there with me. I kept turning to my left, expecting to see you beside me.

  I don’t have a particular reason to be writing tonight. You’re going to get a stack of letters which say very little of substance. But I wanted to put on paper the fact I love you, I miss you, and I pray for you to safely come back home.

  I found your glove-box note for me today. I was looking for the tire pressure gauge for Jeff to use when I saw the note with my name clipped to the registration and insurance cards. I read it and then put the note back in its place, so it will be there if it’s needed. You love me very well. Thank you, my husband.

  With much love, your precious,

  Gina

  She folded the page and slipped it into an envelope, dated it. She would put the letter in the nightstand with the others for when he returned.

  Her husband had surprised her with the numerous notes he had left for her around the house and office. She’d found the first one in her purse when she went to get grocery money at the ATM. Found the second one when she opened her Bible. Another had been taped to the top of the ice cream carton. The one she had found in the car this afternoon had been both loving and thoughtful, her husband planning ahead.

  Gina,

  If you just got a speeding ticket, know I’m praying it was a minor few miles over the limit and that you won’t kick yourself too much for the error. Money to cover a ticket is in my sock drawer if you need it.

  Love, Mark

  She had married a man who did his best to think through what might happen and be there for her even if he couldn’t be there in person—it was the kind of man he was. And she loved him for it.

  The cats and dog followed her to the kitchen, accustomed to her late-night stop by the freezer for a piece of chocolate, hoping she’d open the refrigerator and find a leftover to share. She picked up the puppy and hugged him. She noticed for the first time the second dog tag on his collar, turned it to read the words etched on both sides.

  First dog of Nevada gold. Reward for return to Bangor submarine base.

  “You’re special, Pongo. Do you realize that?” She gave the dog another hug and set him back down. Mark was taking care of his entire family.

  The first six weeks passed so slowly that by mid-June, Gina felt like she had aged a year merely from boredom. She was working too many hours just to keep her mind off the fact Mark wasn’t around, wasn’t there when she went to bed at night, wasn’t there when she woke up. The dog had been in mourning since about week two, and now even the cats were beginning to look distressed.

  She arrived at the TCC, showed her security badge at the door, and slipped quietly inside, knowing from the text Daniel had sent that the room would be busy tonight. She spotted him in the theater seats and took one beside him. “What’s happening on the other side of the Pacific? Things still tense with the Chinese?”

  “South Korea and Japan signed a mutual defense treaty to cover their territorial waters rather than accept U.S. assurances under our current treaties with them. The pact has got China very annoyed. There’ve been some naval movements around the two islands with contested ownership, as well as activity near the ocean-floor gas fields.”

  Daniel pointed to the map showing an enlargement of the waters between Taiwan and Japan. “That’s Jeff and the Seawolf on station, hovering over the submerged seamounts south of Japan. He’s been there about 30 hours, sitting in the midst of a buffer area that’s shown up between the two sides.”

  “Is this posturing, or intent on the part of China’s military?” Gina asked, keeping her voice low.

  “Hard to tell.” Daniel looked at his watch. “We’re at 58 hours after the solar flare.”

  “It turned out to be a weak burst. First reflections might show up in the narrow wavelengths in a couple of hours, but the best we can hope for is the beginnings of a fuzzy picture in about 12 hours.”

  Captain Strong, pacing the room as he monitored the screens, paused to join the conversation. “That will still be helpful, Gina. I need to know how many subs China deployed, Japan, what South Korea is doing. How the boats are deployed tells me a lot about the difference between rhetoric simply for political purposes and true military intent.”

  “I hope it
does help, sir.”

  “I’ll take whatever I can get. What are the odds of another solar flare this month?”

  “Reasonable, sir. A series of weak flares often indicate a stronger one is building.”

  Gina looked at the ocean maps. “Any change with North Korea, sir?”

  “They’ve moved long-range missiles to the launch area on the East Coast, but they haven’t fueled them yet. So far it’s just been the usual rhetoric—Armageddon-level destruction of the South Korean capital, Seoul, a fire from above raining down on Japan—nothing particularly new about the bellicose threats. But with China annoyed, there may be less restraint applied to keep North Korea from overstepping a redline.”

  “Do you anticipate trouble?”

  Strong smiled. “The only thing this job anticipates is trouble.” He took the message traffic the duty officer brought over, scanned it, then glanced back at her. “Let me know if there’s anything you need, Gina. I can use that photo.”

  “I will, sir.”

  He headed over to the communications desk.

  “Do you think this escalates, Daniel?”

  Her friend shrugged. “China and Japan have been heading toward a collision for over a decade, but I doubt either side particularly wants a confrontation right now. The question is, what does that mutual defense agreement trigger? South Korea joining up with Japan in defending the islands in dispute? I personally think the moral claim, the legal claim, of ownership is with Japan, but China obviously disagrees. Settling that dispute via the military is a bad outcome the U.S. would like to avoid.”

  “Hence the Seawolf sitting there like a referee to watch both sides.”

  “Yes. Your brother is good at his job. He can handle the assignment. And the Ohio and the Michigan are near enough for support without it appearing like we are deliberately trying to get involved in this shoving contest.”