by Cliff Happy
Hoover was trying to get Hamilton to do just that, but Brodie’s words seemed to penetrate the angry SEAL’s psyche, and Hamilton, surprisingly, shut his mouth. But he didn’t sit down immediately. Instead, he stared at Brodie. The captain turned, squaring his body with Hamilton’s as Hoover stepped between the two of them. “Trip,” his friend warned as he spoke softly to his teammate. “Trust me, you don’t want to do this.”
Hamilton’s eyes had the look of someone who wasn’t necessarily completely sane. But the commando paused then nodded his head briefly before sitting back down as ordered. However, he continued to watch Brodie, whose gaze had yet to waver. For a few more seconds the two men stared one another down, and then Hamilton’s eyes lost some of their edge. He nodded his head again and looked toward Hoover. “I’m cool.”
“Captain, that man threatened me,” Fitzgerald whined as he stood behind Brodie looking far more comfortable now that Hamilton had sat down.
Brodie turned and jabbed an angry finger into Fitzgerald’s chest. “And you,” he said, the anger he was feeling clear in his voice. “Get out. Now!”
Fitzgerald looked at Brodie in disbelief. “But, Captain, I’m bleeding.”
“Go bleed in the passageway,” Brodie ordered and then turned on Doc Reed who was standing stone still, his eyes open wide in shock at what was happening around him. It wasn’t every day you saw a submarine captain verbally slapping lieutenant commanders and SEALs around. Brodie motioned toward Choi. “Can he talk?”
“I have him sedated, Captain,” Reed replied nervously.
“That isn’t what I asked, is it?” Brodie’s voice was edgy and Kristen heard a combination of anger and urgency in it. “Can this man talk and answer questions?”
“He’s been through a lot, Captain. I would like him to rest,” Reed replied as he studied an EKG strip with a scowl. “I think we’d better wait until we get him to a real hospital, sir.”
“Doc, if we don’t get some information from this guy right now, there might not be any hospitals left an hour from now.” He then snapped angrily, “Now, answer the damn question!”
Reed was visibly startled at hearing Brodie barking at him angrily. Despite his reputation, Kristen knew the captain seldom raised his voice. “Yes, sir. But I might have to wake him up some.”
Brodie then turned toward Kristen. She could feel him looking at her as she hung her head, looking at the deck between her feet. She was still wearing the oversized SEAL work boots they’d given her.
“Wake him up then,” Brodie ordered Reed and then sat down in the seat beside Kristen, his face hard and uncompromising. “Lieutenant?” he said, trying to force a calmness into his voice that he clearly didn’t feel.
Kristen raised her head and looked at him. She instantly felt totally defenseless before him. His grey eyes pierced every emotional defense she had left. It felt like he was peering into her soul. She didn’t want to talk to him or anyone. She just wanted to retreat within herself and begin repairing her damaged psyche. But they were all still in danger, and he needed her. She swallowed hard and once more forced calmness she didn’t feel over her. “Yes, sir?”
“Lieutenant, I know you’ve been through a lot,” he began calmly. “But I need you to translate for me as I ask the doctor some very important questions.”
Charles Horner appeared in the doorway, a digital recording device in one hand and a microphone in the other. Brodie directed him silently to a corner, and then Graves slipped in and stood inside the door. Graves’ and Brodie’s eyes made brief contact and Graves shook his head at the unasked question Kristen saw in Brodie’s eyes.
Kristen looked at him. She could see the strain peering through the hard mask he was trying to keep in place. His grey eyes had been deadly serious and even dangerous as he’d confronted Hamilton. But they were softer now, almost warm as he looked back at her. She had never imagined such fatigue. She’d always been physically active and normally able to outlast virtually anyone in sheer endurance. But she’d never been so utterly exhausted, both physically and mentally, and she wasn’t certain she had the mental capacity remaining to translate. But, as she looked at him, she knew she could deny him nothing.
She nodded and stood on shaky legs. Her right hand was trembling and Brodie gently took her elbow and led her to the table. Kristen gripped the edge of the table to steady herself.
Brodie nodded toward Reed. “Wake him up, Doc.”
Kristen looked up at Brodie and noticed the folded messages in his left breast pocket. They were distinctly colored. She then saw that Horner had beads of sweat on his face, his coveralls were soaked through under his arms, and he was clearly worried. Despite her exhaustion, she began to get an inkling about why Brodie was determined to question Choi.
“Sir?”
“Yes?”
“Have we received an EAM?”
He gave her a grim nod in reply.
“Dear God,” she whispered, wondering how much worse it might get.
“Lieutenant, I need you to do one more thing for me as you translate,” he asked.
“Yes, sir?” Kristen rubbed her throbbing temple as she leaned against the table, feeling a bit lightheaded.
“I need you to tell me if he’s telling the truth.”
She looked at him as if it was some kind of cruel joke. She could barely remember her own name at the moment, and he was asking her to not only translate, but to be a lie detector as well. “I don’t know if I can do that, Captain.” she replied, realizing the gravity of the situation, but feeling she had to be honest and not just tell him what he wanted to hear.
“Do your best, Lieutenant.” He patted her hand with what she wanted to believe was tenderness. “It’s always been more than good enough.”
Choi’s eyes fluttered open. Upon seeing Kristen leaning over him, the Korean smiled. His eyes rested on her for a few seconds, then looked at Brodie. Kristen heard the steady chirping of Choi’s heart monitor change as his heart rate increased upon seeing Brodie. The aging Korean began chattering groggily to Kristen.
“What’s he saying?” Brodie asked.
“He’s says I look tired, sir.” Kristen answered honestly.
“All right, tell him I need to ask him a few questions regarding his country’s strategic rocket program. Explain to him it is of the utmost importance to the people of both our countries that he answer me quickly and honestly.”
Kristen rubbed her tired eyes. Her brain felt like mush from the jumble of languages floating around in it. She then explained to Choi what Brodie told her to say, and the man looked up at Brodie and said a few more words.
“What did he say?” Brodie asked with forced patience in his voice.
“He wants to know who you are.”
“Tell him.”
Choi looked back from Kristen to Brodie and began chattering again, pointing at Brodie and gripping her hand tightly.
“He says you look scary, sir.” Kristen translated, wishing she could close her eyes and wake up in a week with all of this having been a bad dream.
“He has no idea,” Brodie replied.
Kristen didn’t speak, assuming Brodie didn’t want her to translate his words.
“All right, tell him I need to ask a few questions, and I’m not going to hurt him.”
She did as ordered, and the man, whose heart rate had now gone up markedly, gave her a brief answer. “He says he doesn’t believe you, sir.” Kristen then leaned down and began talking to Choi, trying to reassure him.
“Come on,” Graves whispered anxiously.
“Whatever you’re saying to him, keep it up,” Doc Reed said as the monitor indicated Choi’s heart rate was again settling down to a less alarming rate.
Kristen continued talking to him, reassuring him that no one would hurt him. Over the past few hours she’d been with him constantly, always calm, always comforting, and he trusted her.
“Tell him I need to know the current capabilities for the Unha-3 missile,” Brod
ie pressed her.
Kristen translated almost automatically, doing her best to set aside everything else and turn every ounce of her intellect into getting the translations correct. Not to mention trying to determine if the answers the frightened Choi provided were truthful. She could see the fragile doctor was in no condition to answer questions. The ominous beeping coming from the heart monitor was still not reassuring her the Korean wasn’t in mortal danger. He was sweating profusely even though his skin looked pale. He again told her he couldn’t breathe.
“Can he have some more oxygen, Doc?” she asked, momentarily ignoring Brodie—a very dangerous thing given the gravity of the situation.
But Reed handed her an oxygen mask, and she placed it over Choi’s mouth and nose, holding it there as he began speaking. She immediately translated giving the rocket’s size, launch weight, maximum range, guidance capabilities, and other pertinent information. As Kristen translated, Charles Horner moved alongside the table, holding the microphone closer.
“Ask him about the ballistic nose cone on the rocket,” Brodie ordered. “We need to know if the cone is capable of carrying a payload and if it can withstand reentry.”
Kristen wiped her filthy hand across her face as Choi spoke.
“What’s he saying?” Brodie asked.
“He was thanking me for the oxygen, Captain,” she answered, doing her level best not to show her inner thoughts. It seemed obvious to her Choi was in distress and needed to rest. But they couldn’t let him. The knowledge he had could very well prevent a nuclear war.
“Ask him about the nose cone,” Brodie ordered again.
Kristen worked out the words in her head for the precise translation before speaking. Choi answered the question, looking Kristen in the eye and not glancing at Brodie. She listened and then looked back at her captain, not liking what Choi had said. “He says the nose cone is truly ballistic and can carry a payload into a low orbit, or potentially carry a warhead back through the atmosphere.”
Brodie and the XO exchanged nervous looks. Brodie nodded toward Graves and apparently it was enough communication for Graves to understand what needed to be done. “Aye, Captain,” Graves replied and immediately exited the sickbay.
Kristen saw him turn to move forward in the passageway in the direction of the torpedo room. Without a word being exchanged, Kristen understood. The XO was going forward to direct the loading of at least one of the nuclear-tipped Tomahawk missiles.
“Okay, ask him about the payload weight. How much can it carry?” Brodie asked after Graves left.
She did as ordered and Choi replied, but his answer was unusually long, and Kristen had trouble hearing it all.
“What was all that?” Brodie asked, his own nervousness revealed in his voice.
“He says the rocket can carry up to two hundred kilograms,” she replied. “But he also wanted me to tell you we have nothing to fear from the rocket.”
“And why is that?” Brodie asked. But Choi’s heart rate was becoming erratic and his eyes were fluttering.
“Captain, we’re losing him,” Reed’s warned with concern.
But Kristen understood the importance of getting the information and asked the doctor to explain. She then translated almost as fast as he spoke. “He says his country currently has no fully functional nuclear device. They’re trying to develop one, but they haven’t achieved true nuclear fission yet,” she told the others as she listened to the doctor continue with his rapid explanation. “He also says the smallest device they have so far weighs several tons and couldn’t possibly go into a warhead.”
The doctor grimaced in pain. Reed tried to step forward, but Brodie stopped him with a Medusa-like gaze, freezing Reed in his tracks. “Captain…” Reed whispered with concern for Choi who was clearly in distress.
Brodie had no sympathy in his eyes however, only resolve. “Ask him how he knows this information.”
Kristen did as ordered, watching Choi closely, seeing the old man growing more agitated. He began talking, his words coming fast, and she struggled with the proper translation. “Sir, he says he knows several of the engineers working on their strategic weapons. They have met several times to discuss the functional necessities of a warhead for the Unha-3.”
“Skipper, his heart rate is approaching dangerous levels. His blood pressure is increasing,” Reed warned.
Doc Hoover stepped forward and glanced at the data on the monitor. “He’s gonna stroke on you,” he offered calmly, his eyes on the vital signs.
Brodie ignored the warnings. “Ask him their names and the exact dates and places where they met.”
“Sir,” Kristen warned Brodie, “he’s not doing well…”
“Just do it!” Brodie insisted sharply.
Kristen did as he ordered, and Choi began giving a list of names as well as places and dates where the meetings occurred. She translated everything as quickly as she could.
Brodie then paused, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “Why are they threatening nuclear war if they don’t have the capacity to actually fight even a limited one?”
It was a rhetorical question, but Kristen translated it regardless.
She’d lowered her head beside Choi’s so she could hear his answer as he whispered. But his words were now barely audible. He grimaced in pain and she gripped his hand. He lifted his head slightly, trying to speak to her. His words came in short, weakening bursts, accentuating the distress he was in. His words were becoming garbled, and she couldn’t make some of them out while others made no sense at all. Then his body tensed in pain and he gasped. She saw his eyes bulge slightly in terror. His hand clamped down on hers so tightly she grimaced herself.
The heart monitor sounded an alarm and Reed stepped in front of Brodie who relented, stepping back as Hoover grabbed an AED and pushed past Kristen, ripping the container open. Kristen stepped back as Choi’s eyes continued to stare at her. Reed was already doing emergency chest compressions while Hoover began placing the electrodes on the doctor’s unmoving chest.
Brodie glanced at Charles Horner who was staring in disbelief as Hoover and Reed began trying to revive the doctor.
“Send it all,” Brodie ordered, but Horner seemed transfixed by all that had happened and didn’t respond. “Do it now!” Brodie barked, startling Horner who bolted out of the sickbay.
Kristen sat down in a chair along the wall. She looked back at Choi whose eyes—now glassy and lifeless—managed to still stare at her accusingly.
Chapter Fifty Three
Captain’s Cabin, USS Seawolf
Brodie rubbed his sore eyes. He’d never known such exhaustion. Over the years he’d slowly conditioned himself to the long hours required of a submarine captain. But ever since he’d received their mission over a month earlier he’d struggled to sleep, and since leaving Bremerton, what sleep he’d managed had been brief and seldom restful. Once more beyond North Korean waters, the Seawolf was out of immediate danger, and he could turn his attention to making repairs and seeing to his crew. However, none of this good news meant he could rest yet. His boat was damaged, and Graves was finishing the damage report.
They’d been lucky.
The torpedo had detonated above them and far enough from the hull to cause only superficial damage. There had been some minor flooding and a few injuries. “The Dry Deck Shelter is badly damaged,” Graves explained as he completed his damage report. Brodie’s best friend and XO was seated in a chair, “but with the SDV destroyed, I don’t think we’ll be needing the DDS again.”
This was hardly the end of it. The bean counters in Washington would want Brodie to account for the actions that resulted in the loss of the very valuable SDV, not to mention the death of the two SEALs back in Korea, and—of course—Dr. Dar-Hyun Choi. “We’ll worry about the DDS when we get back to Sasebo,” he said and handed Graves a recent message from COMSUBPAC ordering them to the joint US naval base in Sasebo, Japan. “For now, let’s worry about patching ourselves up.”
; Graves shook his head, exhaling tiredly. He looked as worn out as Brodie felt. “Damn, that was close,” he mused thoughtfully, referring to their orders to launch a nuclear strike that had been quickly rescinded after they’d reported what Choi had revealed. “I’ll be honest with you, buddy,” Graves admitted, “I haven’t been sleeping very well.”
Brodie nodded thoughtfully, feeling the same sense of relief. He could think of few things he wanted more than the two nuclear weapons removed from his submarine.
“Any other word on what’s happening in North Korea?” the XO asked.
Brodie assumed it was the same question everyone back in Washington was asking. None of it made sense. The DPRK had brought the world to the brink of war simply as a bluff. He shrugged, too tired to think about it anymore. “Insanity? Some sort of power struggle within the DPRK? Your guess is as good as anyone’s.”
“I’m getting too old for this shit,” Graves commented in frustration as he rolled his head on his shoulders to loosen his neck muscles.
Brodie nodded in agreement, thinking of the report he had to prepare for Washington. There had been a steady flood of messages demanding answers to an even greater flood of questions. The short run to Sasebo would barely give him enough time to gather the facts and prepare his report, and there would be no time for sleep. “How’s the crew?” he asked, knowing they’d all been on the ragged edge for weeks.
“Relieved to be out of DPRK territorial waters,” Graves admitted. “I cancelled training temporarily so everyone can catch up on their sleep.”
Brodie agreed without saying so. Graves knew what he was doing and didn’t need Brodie micromanaging him. “The SEALs?”
“The two survivors were both wounded, but should be okay. Doc Reed said they’re already back on their feet.”
Brodie nodded, appreciating the good news. “They need to prepare reports of what happened in North Korea. Top Secret, of course, so keep the circle of people in the know to the minimum.”