Lt. Commander Mollie Sanders

by Miller, Mitchell R.

  This time the response came: ANQ-GENY-246 MAGELLAN. An automated navigation system for ANS. Combines inertial navigation with GPS fixes and ocean-mapping data from sonar sensors. Manufacturer claims will be able to supplant entire navigation department, reducing crew size. To be evaluated on first Neptune operational cruise.

  Mollie stared at the screen, concentrating on this information. At this moment the XO came over to her and she quickly shut her laptop screen.

  “Is there a problem, Commander Sanders?”

  “I … no problem, sir. Everything’s fine, sir.”

  “The system’s all loaded and running, Commander? No bugs?”

  “Good to go, sir,” she said. “0630 tomorrow, sir?”

  “Roger that, Commander. Permission to leave the boat granted.”

  Mollie stood. “Sir!”

  CHAPTER XIII – OUT TO SEA

  T’ai chi studio

  September 13

  1400 hours

  Mollie was pleased that Mrs. Chen could fit in a private training session this afternoon. After Mollie’s visit to the sub this morning she hoped the clarity t’ai chi often brought would help with the confusion in her mind.

  Something was not right on board the Neptune. But what exactly her discovery meant eluded her.

  As Mollie completed an exercise, Mrs. Chen said, “Do not move your back. Keep the stomach muscles relaxed.”

  Mollie nodded, then said, “This session has to last me a long time. I’m sailing tomorrow.”

  Mrs. Chen raised a warning hand. “You must guard against tension in your body. All your movements must be without tension. Please repeat from ‘playing the lute.’”

  Mollie repeated the last part of the exercise, forcing herself to concentrate only on t’ai chi and not her waiting berth on the Navy’s most advanced submarine.

  “Your form is excellent,” Mrs. Chen said. “But your chi is not in balance. You’re not letting go. You must let go to get more.”

  Mollie adjusted her position, then looked at Mrs. Chen. “I don’t know if I can.”

  Mrs. Chen nodded slightly. “It must become your way – if you wish success in your life’s journey.” Mrs. Chen moved toward Mollie. “Now we will practice toi-sho. Please attack.”

  Mollie attacked Mrs. Chen, who, without seeming to touch her, threw Mollie against the wall.

  Then they reversed and Mollie threw Mrs. Chen.

  **

  Pier at the Naval Base

  September 14

  0630 hours

  Mollie looked at Surfer as he stopped the government sedan. He had insisted on driving her and she hadn’t had the heart to say no. Besides, she owed him. He’d warned her in time so that she could demand her due.

  All around them sailors and officers embraced their wives, their girlfriends and children. No one knew how long the sub would be away.

  Surfer lifted her seabag from the sedan’s trunk and Mollie took the seabag from him. Then she took the hand he extended to her.

  “Have a good voyage, Gearhead.”

  “Thank you, Surfer.”

  Mollie walked down the pier and the XO came forward as she showed the guard her I.D and her orders.

  “That was a cold goodbye,” the XO said. “Breaking up before a patrol? Good move. I frequently do that myself.”

  What an arrogant SOB she thought. She said, “I was not breaking up with him.”

  “Then that’s a very high-ranking taxi driver.”

  Mollie couldn’t help a slight smile. “He’s the Chief of Naval Operations’ aide, if you must know.”

  The XO raised his eyebrows. “Woooo, powerful stuff. Chief of Naval Operations’ aide. Good person to have on your side.”

  “May I get to the boat, Commander?”

  The XO reached out for her bag. “Let me take your bag,” he said.

  Mollie said, “As long as I can carry yours next time.”

  The XO dropped his hand.

  **

  0700 hours

  Richard stood in a rigging harness, clipped to the aft topside of the Neptune. The sub’s teardrop hull and manta wings left no room for a stern deck. He could see the other members of the deck crew, all similarly rigged, standing by.

  A tugboat nosed into the U-shaped berth, and a sailor on the foredeck tossed a light line to the Neptune’s sternmost crewman. He caught it, bent over to loop it around a stanchion, then tossed it back to the tug’s crewman, who hauled away until the attached heavy line reached the Neptune. The deck crewman, Johnson, cleated it around the stanchion with ease, then raised his arm in a thumb’s-up signal.

  “Towline secured,” Richard spoke into his headset mike. Back came the response, “Towline secured, aye!”

  Over the comline and simultaneously on a bullhorn, Richard heard “Cast off all lines, cast off all lines!”

  Immediately the deck crew cast off the lines securing the boat, which were hauled ashore by hard-hatted dockworkers.

  Richard reported into his mike: “All stern lines away!” He heard: “All bow lines away,” then “All lines away, aye!” over the comline. Then the captain’s voice: “Moran Andrea, take us out, if you please.”

  The tug backed out into the harbor channel, towing the Neptune. The sub was perfectly capable of docking and undocking herself, and even spinning around in the space of her berth, but there was no reason to reveal that to any eyes, friendly or unfriendly.

  Once they reached the channel, Richard spoke over the com: “Stand by to cast off towline.” The aft crewman waved his arm to indicate he had heard.

  The tug began moving to starboard, pulling Neptune’s stern with it. As soon as the boat had swung 45 degrees, Richard radioed in “Clear to release towline!”

  “Clear to release towline, aye!”

  “Moran Andrea, slack on the towline, please. Cast off towline!”

  “Cast off towline, aye!”

  Before Richard had a chance to repeat the command, Johnson uncleated the tug’s towline and tossed it into the water. The tug’s crew quickly hauled it aboard.

  “Moran Andrea, thank you for the lift” came the captain’s voice. The tugboat tooted its reply, then moved off.

  Over the com, Richard heard a grizzled New Englander’s voice. “Give ‘em hell, Captain!”

  “Will do, Andrea!” Degama replied, then “Left 45 degree rudder, all ahead slow. Deck crew, stand to!”

  This wasn’t much of a display, compared to a surface ship or even a traditional submarine, with only a dozen officers and men outside on the hull.

  As he faced the shore at parade rest, Richard’s mind was occupied with the ship’s new weapons officer. If she wanted to be treated as one of the boys, he’d do his best to accommodate her. But it wasn’t going to be easy. Why the hell had the Navy decided to put her onboard on Neptune’s first operational mission?

  With the sub pulling away, Richard saw some of the crowd jump into their cars and drive down a road paralleling the channel.

  The sub approached the edge of the spit of land that jutted into the open ocean. A Coast Guard patrol boat joined the submarine in its procession out to sea.

  The cars pulled up to the edge of the spit. The women and children jumped out of the cars and waved and yelled goodbye, goodbye. Richard couldn’t help noting that the aide to the Chief of Naval Operations was not among them.

  “Deck crew below. All hands to stations!”

  Richard waited until the last man had worked his way to the hatch, then followed. He shucked off his harness and jacket, and he took his place on the bridge.

  Next to Richard the captain again spoke into the walkie-talkie. “Charlie Echo Foxtrot, this is Kilo November Sierra. Requesting clearance to depart.”

  From the com a young male voice: “Kilo November Sierra, this is Charlie Echo Foxtrot. You are good to go.”

  “Roger that,” the captain said.

  He turned to Richard. “How’s our new Defensive Systems Officer doing?”

  “Too
early to tell, sir.”

  “Just be sure to keep her occupied at all times.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  Degama nodded, then said, “Prepare to dive, XO.”

  “Prepare to dive, aye, sir!” Richard said. He raised his voice: “Clear the bridge!”

  The sailors on the bridge headed for the hatch and jumped down the pole, a concession to submarine tradition. Richard followed, leaving the captain as the last to depart the bridge.

  When Degama’s feet hit the CIC deck, Richard threw a switch and the hatch closed with a hydraulic hiss.

  **

  A few minutes later in the control room Mollie sat at her electronics console. All around her men sat or stood at their diving stations. A few feet from her the captain picked up a mike.

  “Now hear this. This is the captain speaking. Gentlemen, we have achieved what we worked towards for the past year – the privilege of being the first crew to take the Advanced Nuclear Submarine to sea on an operational patrol. We have the best equipment, the best weapons, and the best damn crew in the world. Let’s kick some ass!”

  The crew shouted in response as Degama hung up the mike. Mollie thought of a men’s locker room before the big football game.

  Degama turned to the diving officer. “Mr. Martinez, dive the boat.”

  “Diving the boat, aye, aye, sir.”

  The diving horn sounded. The crew checked various instruments, ensuring all was in order.

  A crewman said, “My board is green.”

  Another crewman said, “Confirm green board, sir.”

  The diving officer said, “Flood negative. Three degrees down bubble.”

  Mollie told herself this was for real, but it felt no different than the simulator.

  “Let’s see what she can do,” the captain said. Then he turned to the XO.

  “Give Commander Sanders a cup of coffee.”

  “Thank you, sir. I don’t need one right now,” she said.

  “I insist, Commander,” he said. “Coffee is the most basic necessity of life on a submarine.” He paused. “Commander Sanders, just go over and get a cup from the XO, would you?”

  Then to the diving officer he said, “Ten degrees down bubble.”

  The diving officer replied, “Ten degrees down bubble, aye.”

  The helmsman said, “Making my bubble ten degrees down, sir.”

  Mollie walked over to the XO, who poured a cup of coffee from a thermos at the captain’s place and handed Mollie the cup. She noticed he didn’t meet her eyes.

  At that moment the ship went into a high-angle dive. The coffee sloshed all over Mollie as she attempted to remain upright.

  Around her the men broke out in uproarious laughter.

  Mollie didn’t swear or say anything. She’d lived through this kind of harassment before. She simply sucked it up.

  Degama ostentatiously shook out his wrists, indicating he had nothing in his hands. Then he strode over to Mollie, reached behind both ears, and held up coins he’d seemingly pulled from her ears. The men laughed harder.

  Mollie forced a smile. Locker room antics.

  **

  Officers’ Wardroom

  1130 hours

  Richard entered the wardroom and spotted Sanders sitting by herself at one end of the table with her laptop open in front of her. He looked over her shoulder and saw a chess board on the screen.

  “Playing by correspondence?” he asked. She jumped at his voice, then smiled.

  “On a sub? Hardly. Playing Kasparov.”

  That was a surprising answer. Before he could reply she went on: “I’ve got all the chess masters’ games. I like to look for places where the losers might have won.”

  “You’re that good?”

  “Russian submarine captains play chess all the time. Sharpens the mind. You should try it sometime.”

  Richard opened his mouth to return the insult, then changed his mind. “Don’t be upset about the coffee. It’s a matter of pride with old-timers that they keep a cup of coffee from spilling during high-angle dives. It’s a submarine initiation rite.”

  He thought she’d be appreciative of his attempt to be nice. But what she said was: “I am perfectly capable of surviving crude masculine jokes.”

  Richard sat down across from her. “This isn’t going to be easy. You’re under a microscope. Everything you do will be scrutinized.”

  Sanders switched off the screen. “Commander, let me assure you that I am totally focused on the mission and that I can keep my pants on. I survived Annapolis, I can survive anything.”

  “How’d you do on Herndon, plebe year?”

  Now she grinned at him. “I did okay. Some guy pulled me off. I got back up and kicked the guy in the head.”

  Richard shook his head. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “How did you do?” she asked.

  “I was the first to reach the top.”

  “So, according to Academy legend,” she said, “you’ll be the first in your class to make admiral. Not that I believe climbing a 21-foot-high grease-covered monument has anything to do with your future performance.”

  Put that way, he had to agree with her, but he wouldn’t admit it. Instead he said, “It wasn’t a big deal – I was in great shape, a football player.”

  She stared at him. “You may not want to be the first of your class to make admiral, but I want to be the first woman to command a sub.”

  This was too much. “And if you’re also the last?”

  An alarm blared in the room. He stood and gestured for her to follow. “Fire drill. Let’s go.”

  Sanders followed him as two crew members came up behind her and purposely pushed against her, slamming her into the bulkhead, then they took off ahead of Richard.

  He reached out his hand to help her, but she brushed him off. “I can handle it,” she said.

  Maybe she could he thought. But could he?

  **

  Officers’ Wardroom

  1230 hours

  Mollie sat at the end of the officers at the table, physically separating herself as they all ate. Degama, the XO and six other officers. Lt. Wozniak tried to answer a question Degama had asked.

  “Sir, uh, we were taught that the mission always comes first. Of course, you must give every thought to your men, but …”

  From Mollie’s position she could see the anger flushing the captain’s face. The XO jumped in.

  “Lt. Wozniak is saying, sir, what the official line at the Naval Academy is – not the way things are once you’re at sea.”

  Why not help out the XO Mollie thought? “Actually, sir, Lt. Wozniak is correctly stating official Navy doctrine. According to NAVPERS Manual 7-1046, ‘Primary consideration will be given at all times to the accomplishment …’”

  Degama leaned toward her end of the table. “Don’t spout that manual crap to me, Sanders! The welfare of your men must always be your first concern. There is nothing more important than loyalty to your men. Nothing.

  He stood up, threw his napkin down on the table, and stormed toward the door, then whirled to face Mollie. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Commander?”

  **

  1245 hours

  Damn! This dressing down had a familiar ring to it. Why was she again being accused of not caring enough for personnel?

  She was tired of this, and she needed to put a lid on it. She knocked on Degama’s door. “Commander Sanders. Permission to enter,” she said.

  “Permission granted” she heard through the door. She opened it and entered.

  In the cramped space there was barely room to stand in front of Degama’s desk, where he sat squeezing a ball in his hand.

  “Permission to speak frankly, sir,” she said.

  “Go ahead, Commander.”

  “Your treatment of me in the wardroom, sir. It was uncalled for. You wouldn’t have said that to a male officer.”

  “Wrong, Commander. What I said had nothing to do with your being a w
oman. It had everything to do with who your father is.”

  Her father? “I beg your pardon, sir. What does my father have to do with this issue?” Mollie quickly added, “Sir!”

  Degama stood, his face inches from Mollie’s face. “You’re dismissed.”

  Mollie opened her mouth to speak, then closed it and left the cabin.

  Once out of his presence, she stopped and took deep breaths, her fists clenched.

  At the sound of footsteps she whirled around. The XO was there.

  “Anything wrong, Commander?” he asked.

  “No, sir.” To herself she said: Nothing that a good kick in the balls wouldn’t cure.

  As she turned and strode away from the XO, she reminded herself this was nothing. What she needed to do was figure out that anomaly in the repeater panel in the captain’s quarters. But how was she going to do that?

  **

  Neptune Workout Compartment

  2100 hours

  Annoyed that the XO insisted on closing the workout compartment to all men while she exercised, Mollie glared at him.

  “All right, Commander, you have one hour,” he said.

  Mollie sat down at the biceps machine and began a series of reps before she answered. “I don’t need a separate workout period. Every gym I’ve ever been to is coed. And I shouldn’t have to wear these damn sweats, either.”

  With peripheral vision she watched the XO try to contain his temper. “Every other gym you’ve ever been to has NOT been on a submarine, underwater for several months with a hundred young, testosterone-loaded men.”

  She hated this shit so she purposely goaded him. “Of whom you doubtlessly think you are the most deserving to get into my rack.”

  “Listen, Commander Sanders. I don’t give a damn about you. I am concerned about the possible problems that might result if you should decide to take someone into your rack.”

  Mollie slammed the biceps bar up above her head and jumped to her feet. “You have no idea of what I’ve had to go through to get here; what I’ve put up with. To sacrifice that for a quick bang with one of you hairy men? Don’t flatter yourself!”

  The XO stared back at her. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”