“At least Murph and the others didn’t go through all that for nothing.”
“And can you please get through today without sending me any new patients?”
He smiled at her. “We’re just leaving port, but no promises.”
She chuffed at him and went back to her reading. Juan continued on to find Max waiting for him at the door to the boardroom. He held out a card to Juan.
“This was forwarded to us courtesy of Langston Overholt,” Max said.
It was a postcard with a picture of a red crab on the front. Juan flipped it over. The caption said, “Christmas Island, Australia.” The card was addressed to Captain Juan Cabrillo at the Pentagon.
Dear Juan,
I hate using email, and I remembered you were a Navy man, so I thought the Navy would get to you eventually. Just wanted to let you know Renee and I are happily reacquainted. Don’t know what you’re doing, but it can’t be as good as where I am right now. Thanks for saving my life and giving me a new start.
Take care,
Bob Parsons
“You never told him you weren’t actually a Navy vet?” Max said.
“I didn’t see a reason to spoil things by saying I used to be a CIA operative,” Juan said. “Is this why you asked me down here?”
“Nope. In here.”
He ushered Juan into the boardroom. There was a black silk cloth draped over something on the wall next to the plaque honoring the Oregon’s fallen crew members.
“You’ve been decorating?” Juan said.
“I wanted to surprise you.” Max whisked away the cloth to reveal a shiny golden aquila. The eagle with its wings spread was identical to the one they’d recovered from the Roman bireme.
“Did you make this?”
“No, the Italian government sent it to us as a thank you. Gold-plated, of course. They weren’t going to give us one made of solid gold like the original.”
Juan had decided that the aquila belonged back in Rome after being away for two thousand years. He’d arranged to have it returned as long as it was displayed in a museum, with credit given to the archaeologists who discovered the wreck of the Salacia in the first place. The ship was now the site of a massive excavation that was revealing previously unknown details about Roman culture.
“I thought it could be the Oregon’s new standard,” Max said. “But we certainly couldn’t mount it on the jackstaff.”
“This is a great place for it,” Juan said. He thought it represented the gallantry of the Oregon crew well, especially those who had given their lives in its service, like Jerry Pulaski and Mike Trono, whose names were on the plaque beside it.
“Shall we set sail?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Max said, practically rubbing his hands with glee at the thought of taking his updated toy for a spin.
When they entered the op center, they were greeted by Maurice, who was holding a tray of champagne flutes.
“I thought it appropriate for you to celebrate this sailing since we didn’t have a proper send-off the last time,” Maurice said. “Dom Pérignon. I chose the year to honor the christening date of our previous ship.”
He handed Juan one of the glasses.
“Thank you, Maurice,” Juan said. “Very thoughtful of you.”
Max took one and went to his post at engineering. Maurice then gave a glass to Linda at the radar and sonar station, Hali at comms, and Murph at weapons. Only a single person was missing.
Eric rushed into the room and grabbed the last champagne.
Maurice cleared his throat and handed Eric a bright white napkin. Eric stared at it in confusion until Murph chuckled and said, “You’ve got lipstick on your face, lover boy.”
Eric blushed again and wiped off the telltale red marks. Maurice held out the tray for him to discard the napkin.
“Bon voyage, Captain,” he said, and then left the room with patrician grace.
Juan went to stand in front of the main view screen and had Hali pipe in, by video chat, Eddie, Linc, Raven, and MacD on the bridge, Julia and her staff in the medical bay, and every other crew member, to join in for a toast.
“They say a ship is only as good as her crew,” Juan said. “I couldn’t agree more. I’m proud to say that the Oregon has been, is, and always will be the finest ship afloat.”
He held his glass high and was matched by the others.
“Fair winds and following seas,” he said.
The rest of them gave a rousing “Hear! Hear!” and drank.
Hali switched the view back to the external cameras and the bridge crew took their seats.
“Ship status?” Juan asked as he gazed at the construction shed exit on the main view screen.
“Weapons are stowed and secure,” Murph said.
“Engines are operating normally and at your command,” Max said.
“The port has given us clearance to leave,” Hali said.
“Boat traffic has made way,” Linda said. “The route out of the harbor is clear.”
“Lines have been cast off,” Eric said. “We are ready to depart.”
Juan sat down in his chair, the place where he always felt the most at home. The light ahead seemed to beckon them.
“Take us out, Mr. Stone,” he said. “It’s time to see what the Oregon can really do.”
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Clive Cussler is the author of more than seventy books in five bestselling series, including Dirk Pitt, NUMA Files, Oregon Files, Isaac Bell, and Sam and Remi Fargo. His life nearly parallels that of his hero Dirk Pitt. Whether searching for lost aircraft or leading expeditions to find famous shipwrecks, he and his NUMA crew of volunteers have discovered and surveyed more than seventy-five lost ships of historic significance, including the long-lost Confederate submarine Hunley, which was raised in 2000 with much publicity. Like Pitt, Cussler collects classic automobiles. His collection features more than one hundred examples of custom coachwork. Cussler and his wife make their home in Arizona.
Boyd Morrison is the coauthor with Cussler of the Oregon Files novels Piranha, The Emperor's Revenge, Typhoon Fury, and Shadow Tyrants, and the author of six other books. He is also an actor and engineer, with a doctorate in engineering from Virginia Tech, who has worked on NASA's space station project at Johnson Space Center and developed several patents at Thomson/RCA. In 2003, he fulfilled a lifelong dream by becoming a Jeopardy! Champion. He lives in Seattle.
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