Dangerous Ground

by Larry Bond

  O’Connell quickly shook his head. “No, sir. I’ve never seen this.”

  Hardy said, “Ma’am, our charts of that area are poor. Normally the Navigator develops a track and the XO and I approve it.”

  The XO, who had been studying the track, chimed in. “Sir, she’s got us moving through some pretty shallow water.” Hardy quickly stood up and examined Patterson’s track.

  Patterson refused to budge. “This plan will work. It’s perfectly all right.”

  Hardy, studying the chart, said, “No, ma’am, it’s not. You’ve just drawn lines connecting these different sites. We pass too close to some known wrecks, over an explosive dumping area, through very shallow water, and in some of these locations it’s almost impossible to get out of if we’re detected. The Navigator will review your plan. He will make sure to show you any changes and get your approval,” he offered.

  Patterson agreed reluctantly. “As long as it doesn’t add a lot of time to the mission. We have to be back with the samples by the end of June. The Sao Paulo congress starts on July 8. If we’re too late, then the whole mission will be wasted.”

  “I won’t risk the ship’s machinery breaking down in the middle of the Atlantic or running aground on the Russian coast for some political boondoggle.”

  “You’ll do whatever’s required to accomplish the mission. Those are the President’s orders.” Her tone was preemptory. Jerry certainly didn’t like Captain Hardy, but he resented her speaking to his captain that way.

  Hardy, angry and defensive, started to reply, then stopped himself, fighting for control. Jerry watched emotions play over his face, and then the Captain sighed. “We’ll get back by the end of June.”

  Patterson smiled, almost triumphantly, but she tried to make it just a pleasant expression. She picked up her pad and studied it, trying to get the brief back to business. “I just have one more question. How can I send and receive e-mail while I’m aboard? I’m sure there are already several urgent messages waiting for me.”

  Hardy, for once surprised, didn’t answer immediately, and Bair spoke up. “Ma’am, we can receive the Fleet broadcast three times a day. Any messages to you will be added to that. The crew receives personal messages the same way.”

  “No, no,” she countered. “I asked about this before I left. They said that all Navy ships can send and receive e-mail these days.”

  “Navy surface ships, yes, through a commercial satellite system. We can’t transmit while submerged, and even when we come up for the Fleet broadcasts, we usually only receive. Transmitting any radio signal is like waving a big ‘We’re over here’ sign. Our mission orders specifically cite security as having a high priority.”

  Patterson became alarmed. “But that means I’ll be out of touch for weeks. You don’t understand. I work for the President. I deal with crises every day. If I can’t communicate...” she paused, as she tried to imagine being incommunicado for months. Finally she faced Hardy and said, “This is simply unacceptable. You have to let me read my e-mail,” she announced.

  Hardy had trouble hiding his enjoyment. “I’m sorry, Doctor. It’s impossible.”

  “It’s entirely possible. I’m the mission commander and I need to stay in close touch with my office and with the President.”

  His expression hardened. “And I’m the captain of this vessel. I will not do anything that so grossly compromises our security. And the mission, I might add.”

  “You’re a glorified bus driver who needs to remember who’s in charge!”

  “And you need a lesson on the chain of command,” Hardy stormed. He started to say something else, then stopped himself again and quickly left the wardroom.

  Patterson, also fuming, followed.

  A few moments later, Jerry heard the door to the Captain’s cabin slam shut, and after a pause, open, and slam again. Considering that Hardy’s stateroom was one deck up, Jerry wondered if it was still on its hinges.

  Bair, finding himself suddenly in charge of the briefing, looked at the charts for a minute, then turned to the assembled officers and chiefs. “The briefing’s over. I’m sure everyone has duties elsewhere,” he said firmly.

  The wardroom quickly emptied. Jerry grabbed his qualification book and headed aft—and almost got caught in the crush of everyone else with the same idea. A small part of Jerry wanted to be a fly on the wall in the Captain’s stateroom, but most of him wanted to be as far away from forward compartment upper level as possible. Nothing good would come of the Captain’s fight with Patterson and Jerry wanted to be long gone when they came out.

  And at that moment, Jerry really wanted to be somewhere else, far away from Memphis. They’d just started out on the mission and already they seemed headed for disaster. With Hardy and Patterson at each other’s throats over who was in charge, it seemed unlikely that the rest of the crew would be able to function properly. The thought of an antagonistic command element combined with the unfamiliar equipment, gave Jerry little hope for success. Searching for distraction, he fortified his resolve with a cup of hot cocoa from the galley and marched off to the engine room to delve into the mysteries of the lube oil system.

  Dinner that night in the wardroom was silent, tense, and uncomfortable. While Patterson wasn’t at the first sitting, Hardy was, and it was obvious to everyone that he was still in a foul mood. Jerry noticed that Emily was still a little pale and ate sparingly. Whether this was due to her claustrophobia or embarrassment over Patterson’s behavior, he didn’t know. Regardless, she retired to her stateroom immediately after dinner. Jerry did likewise, but he spent most of the evening preparing for his next checkout and turned in late. Sleep came surprisingly easily.

  Early the next morning the mood on board had improved somewhat. At least some of the junior officers talked with each other during breakfast. But if Patterson or Hardy entered the wardroom, all conversation immediately ceased and everyone stared intently at their meal, careful to avoid direct eye contact with either of them. Neither seemed to care that their ongoing feud was adversely affecting everyone else on board.

  And Jerry’s musings made him lose track of the time. He had to get up to control for his first watch as Diving Officer under instruction. Jerry wolfed down a sticky bun and some cereal, grabbed his qual book, and literally ran up to control. For the next six hours, Jerry started applying some of the basic concepts necessary to keep Memphis at its ordered depth with a balanced trim. Lenny Berg was the OOD on the 0600 to 1200 watch and he passed on a few tricks as well.

  Before they went to the wardroom for lunch, both Jerry and Lenny went to the stateroom to grab their notebooks. There would be little time after lunch before Davis would give her presentation on the capabilities of the ROVs and go over the launch and retrieval procedures. Rustling around his disorganized desk, Lenny looked over his shoulder at Jerry and asked, “So, who do you think is going to win round two? Yesterday was a bit of a draw.”

  Sighing, Jerry replied, “I’m entertaining the fleeting hope that both will act like civilized human beings this afternoon.”

  “Ha! Little chance of that, I’m afraid,” chortled Berg. “But, as much as I hate to admit it, the Captain has every right to be pissed off. Patterson is way out of line.”

  “She certainly knows all the right buttons to push, doesn’t she?”

  “Well, since they are both control freaks, it doesn’t take a Sherlock Holmes to see that they have the same buttons,” stated Lenny firmly. “Ah, there’s my notebook. What say we go and enjoy a quiet lunch at Chez Memphis before this afternoon’s festivities.”

  Lunch was indeed quiet, with only four at second sitting. Jerry, Lenny, Al Millunzi, and Jim Porter had all just come off watch and they enjoyed their temporary isolation from the rest of the boat. During the meal, they talked, joked, and generally enjoyed each other’s company. For a brief moment, Jerry saw the wardroom atmosphere he appreciated so much during his days at the squadron. He was glad to see that the camaraderie he missed wasn’t completely
dead on Memphis, just buried under the oppressive cloud cast by Hardy’s command style.

  Just as the dishes were being cleared away, Emily Davis walked in with her laptop. The four officers rose to greet her and then helped her hook up the computer to the flat panel display on the forward bulkhead. The mood remained pleasant and the banter lighthearted. It included the predictable joke by Berg on how many engineers did it take to screw in a light bulb. No sooner had the groans died down when Patterson burst into the wardroom.

  The change in the room was palpable. Instantly everyone, including Emily, became tense and silent. Everywhere she went, Jerry thought, her sour, cold disposition dragged everyone down. Jerry found himself deeply resenting Patterson’s influence.

  After briefly conferring with Emily about the afternoon’s presentation, Patterson poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the wardroom table. The room was now so quiet that her sipping could easily be heard. Ten minutes later, the wardroom was full to capacity, but it remained just as quiet. Hardy finally entered and motioned for those that had them to take their seats. He didn’t even look at Patterson.

  “Dr. Davis is going to brief us on the capabilities of the ROVs. Since very few of us have NMRS experience, I expect you all to give her your undivided attention. In an hour and a half, we’ll slow down and give each ROV a shakedown test. We’ll resume our transit north once the tests have been completed,” declared Hardy. “These ROVs are crucial to the success of our mission and I expect a flawless performance from everyone involved. Dr. Davis, the floor is yours.”

  “Thank you, sir,” replied Emily nervously. “As the Captain has already mentioned, the Draper Environmental Survey ROVs are based on Near Term Mine Reconnaissance System vehicles. However, they have been heavily modified to collect environmental data from undersea sites that are suspected to contain radiological contamination.”

  Emily was fidgety, tense, and definitely uncomfortable giving the briefing as she moved through the introductory material very quickly. As hard as he tried, Jerry just couldn’t keep up with all the new information as Emily flew from one slide to the next. From the frustrated expression on a number of the crew’s faces, he wasn’t the only one, and Hardy was starting to get that impatient look. Fortunately, the XO piped up and asked Davis to go back a slide and clarify a point she had just made. As she looked at Bair to provide further explanation, Jerry saw him mouth the words: “Slow down.” Emily nodded and her pace noticeably slowed.

  It was only after she got to the detailed technical specifications of the ROVs that she seemed to reach her comfort zone. Slowly and deliberately, she went over every system and explained its function in detail. She also went over each step in the launch and recovery processes with the same degree of detail.

  Jerry was furiously writing notes as he listened, and he couldn’t help but be impressed with Emily’s technical competence. Every question posed by a crew member was answered thoroughly and professionally. Even Hardy was getting into the briefing, leaning forward in his chair as Emily highlighted the various features of her vehicles. Patterson, on the other hand, seemed bored with the whole thing. Toward the end of the presentation, there was a lot of discussion on the sampling system and how it operated.

  “Dr. Davis, since many of the sediment and water samples may be radioactive, how do we safely get them back to nucleonics, where the analysis equipment is installed?” asked Ho. “I’m concerned about the risk of spreading contamination throughout a good chunk of this boat.”

  “I understand your concern,” replied Emily. “The sediment and water sampling systems are encased in individual watertight containment modules and are removed from the ROV as complete assemblies. They’ve been pressure-tested to four hundred pounds per square inch. The test pressure is greater than the ROV’s maximum design depth.”

  “Good,” said Hardy. Then, turning toward Jeff Ho, he continued, “Engineer, only your people will be allowed to transport the sample modules from the torpedo room to Nucleonics. And I expect radiation surveys to be made along the entire route to verify that there was no leakage.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” responded Ho.

  “Any other questions?” demanded Hardy. When none were forthcoming, he said, “All right, then, we’ll man ROV launch stations in half an hour. Dr. Davis, make sure the XO has a copy of your brief so it can be uploaded to the network for reference by the crew. Dismissed.”

  As people filed out of the wardroom, a number of the officers and chiefs paused to compliment Davis on her presentation. Patterson appeared annoyed by the attention that Emily was getting and left in a huff, nearly running over Cal Richards in the process.

  Jerry stayed behind in the wardroom and waited for an opportunity to talk to Emily. It took a few minutes before he was able to get near enough to speak without having to raise his voice. “Great presentation, Emily. Even the Captain seemed to like it. I’d interpret that as a rare compliment.”

  “Thanks, it did seem to go well. Still, I’m just glad it’s over.”

  “How are you doing with your little issue that we talked about yesterday?”

  “Better, thank you. I’m still somewhat nervous, but the XO was very helpful in talking me through it. Thanks again for all your help,” replied Emily sincerely.

  “Glad to be of service, ma’am.” Jerry said with a mock bow. He then took a quick look around the wardroom to make sure Patterson wasn’t within earshot. “Switching topics, I noticed that Dr. Patterson didn’t look too thrilled during your presentation. You’d think she would be more interested, seeing as these ROVs of yours are key to the success of this mission.”

  “Well, Jerry, in her defense, she has seen this brief over a dozen times,” said Emily apologetically. “I’m sure it starts to get a bit stale after the fourth time.”

  “Yeah . . . well, I see your point. I guess I’m just reacting to her sandpaper approach to interpersonal relationships. She damn near ran over Mr. Richards getting out of the wardroom.”

  “She’s still upset with Captain Hardy. They had a terrible fight after the meeting yesterday and apparently Hardy read her the riot act on what she can and cannot do in regard to this mission. From what little she has told me, she’d turn this sub around right now if she hadn’t committed herself in front of the President.” Emily paused while she finished putting her laptop away. She then looked Jerry in the eye and said, “Dr. Patterson doesn’t take it well when people oppose her. She’s used to being in charge and she’s used to getting her way.”

  “Sounds vaguely like my commanding officer,” remarked Jerry sympathetically. “But if we are going to pull this mission off, we all need to learn to play nice.”

  “Teamwork is not something Joanna Patterson is good at. Just ask about a half dozen former White House staffers,” replied Emily with a slight hint of humor.

  “Wonderful! And Captain Hardy’s afraid of joining them.”

  “That’s about how I see it, Mr. Mitchell.”

  “Well, then, with that cheery thought in mind, Dr. Davis, shall we head off to the torpedo room and prepare your vehicles for their test runs?”

  “Certainly.” She brightened as Jerry changed the subject. “But I need to get something to drink. My throat is dry after all that talking.” The hoarseness of Emily’s voice reinforced her statement.

  “Sure thing. We can swing by the galley and grab a cup of bug juice on the way,” said Jerry.

  “Ewwww, that sounds disgusting! Why do you guys have to be so gross?” complained Emily.

  “Sorry, Navy tradition. How about we grab you a cup of cheap Kool-Aid? I believe they are serving green and purple today.”

  “Huh? What’s with the colors? Don’t you Navy types believe in flavors like the rest of the us?”

  “In theory, there are flavors. I think the green is supposed to be lime and the purple is grape. But they pretty much taste the same, so we go by colors. That’s what you get when you buy from the lowest bidder.”

  Making their way
to the galley, Jerry and Emily picked up their drinks and then headed forward to the ladder that led to forward compartment lower level and the torpedo room. Since the ladder ended up in the twenty-one-man bunkroom, Jerry went down first to make sure no one would be “surprised” by Emily’s appearance. With the coast clear, Emily quickly made her descent and the two of them entered the torpedo room.

  Senior Chief Foster already had the entire torpedo division assembled when Jerry and Emily arrived. Foster was reviewing the ROV launch procedures with the men and paid little attention to the two as they headed over to the ROV control area.

  Emily sat down at the control and display pallet and powered up the computer systems. Jerry looked around the space as she went through the initial system checks. He focused on the two ROVs in their support cradles and his eye caught the stenciled H and D on the vehicles. He asked, “Emily, I have a question for you. What do the ‘H’ and ‘D’ stand for on the ROVs?”