Pacino slowly became aware of his surroundings. The sound of the air rushing around him, the feel of the bed, the slicing, throbbing pain in his side, the bandages there, the sheets covering him. His lips were dry. But strangely, the sensation of the bandage over his left eye was now gone. He had gotten used to that sensation but now it was absent.
He tried to open his eyes, the lids coming open, but the world appeared as if seen through Vaseline. He blinked but still couldn’t see clearly. Finally a white shape appeared over him.
“Admiral.” A woman’s voice.
Eileen Constance.
“I got your note when I was at sea,” Pacino said, his voice a hoarse croak. “Thanks… thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
“Are my eyes okay?”
“They’ll be back to normal in a few days. You have some drops in them.”
“My side…?”
“We did surgery, you were bleeding internally.”
“Were you there?”
“I assisted. And I can tell you that even flag officers are made of snakes, snails and puppy dog tails. Don’t laugh, it’ll hurt your incision.”
“So… what happened?”
“We operated and—”
“No. Japan.”
“You don’t know. Of course. You and the Piranha sank all but two of their operational submarines. Some of the others had to return to port because of failures but of the ones that worked, only two survived. President Warner received Prime Minister Kurita in the White House yesterday. He offered a full apology for attacking Greater Manchuria and invited the UN and US forces into Japan. The Destiny subs are now under UN guard, the Firestar fighters have been flown to the Philippines and all the radioactive weapons are in the custody of the US Army.”
“I missed a lot,” Pacino’s lips tried to smile.
“I was watching the news. I put some of it on a disk, in case you want to look at it later.”
“Your word’s good enough.”
“President Warner wanted to know when you came to. She sent this note. Want me to read it?”
“Sure.”
” ‘To Vice Admiral Michael Pacino’—”
“She got my rank wrong.”
“You’re always the last to know. Admiral. Your third star came in with the note. You’re confirmed by Congress. Warner struck while the iron was hot. Should I be jealous of you two?”
“Just read the damned note,” Pacino croaked, but his chapped lips were smiling.
“‘To Vice Admiral Michael Pacino — thanks to your courage, tactical foresight and strategic brilliance, the United States has prevailed in this struggle with Japan. A grateful nation could never fully thank you enough, but as a measure of our esteem I have nominated you and Congress has confirmed you as Vice Admiral United States Navy. In addition, your name has been submitted by me personally for the Navy Cross, third award. With fondest wishes and hopes for your full recovery, I remain your grateful commander in chief, Jaisal Warner, President.’ Personally I think the Medal of Honor would be more appropriate,” she added.
“Why?” Pacino frowned, the expression adding to his headache.
“Ask Paully White. By the way, he’s okay. So is Captain Kane, although he had a nasty collision with a bulkhead.”
“How many men did we lose?”
“There were forty-two survivors from the Barracuda.”
Pacino bit his aching lip. That meant some eighty men had lost their lives aboard the sub, in addition to the other eight 688-class subs lost in the Oparea. He couldn’t help wondering if it had been worth it, but then realized there was no telling what Japan would have become or would have done if not for Operation Enlightened Curtain.
“What now. Admiral?”
“Maybe I’ll retire to Florida. Where did you say you were going to med school?”
Her kiss felt good, but he was already sinking into a deep sleep even before she pulled her lips away.
* * *
The USS Mount Whitney steamed on. Pearl Harbor bound, the sun setting in the Pacific astern of her, the flash of green its last salute as it vanished below the horizon.
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Barracuda: Final Bearing mp-4 Page 40